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fernthefanciful · 3 years

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A princess is a creature of grace, poise, decorum. They are soft, gentle, patient. I, however, was none of those things, much to my parents’ despair.

They only brought that upon themselves, of course. A firstborn daughter, a royal invitation to greet the new monarch not sent, and therefore an insult perceived by a powerful magical being. You know how the story goes. I was cursed and, in my story, there were no blessings to gentle it. No other wishes for my future, or what little she left of it. Just a creature of shadow and talon which appeared, damned the bright vision my parents had of my life, and vanished.

My childhood was a moderately happy one, even with the dark cloud of the curse hanging forever in my periphery. My parents loved me. My sisters, when they were born, did the same. And I of course love them with all that I am. My parents hired tutors, made sure I learned what it meant to be a monarch, made sure I was prepared for a future of rule. They simply made sure my sister learned as well.

“Just in case.” My father would say, his gaze flitting across the empty hallways as if something unseen was always listening, always watching.

And when I got too restless, when the green of the forest and the blue of the lake called to me and I couldn’t help but give in to the need to run, to chase, they took me riding. We’d make trips, have picnics, run around on the heather-filled fields and watch the sky change her colour with the setting sun. For the longest time, we were as happy as we could be.

My eighteenth birthday was a beautiful and clear full moon night. The air rife with the scents of fresh bread and roasted meats of the feast held in honour of my coming of age. Gentle and joyful music filled the ballroom as people danced and laughed all night.

In an empty hallway, as far away from people as I could get, I screamed and cried as my body tore itself apart. As the wildness that had always lived inside of me wanted out. The howl that tore from my newly changed throat was loud enough to wake the entire city.

I should have been terrified. I should be lamenting the turn my life had taken, all the things I now no longer could do. I should have felt all of those things. But when I made my way out of the castle and into the forest, the ground soft underneath my paws, the silver moonlight a gentle caress on my fur, I couldn’t help but think that his curse tasted a lot like freedom.

The wildness that had always lived inside of me, the parts that longed to shed the tight clothing and even tighter responsibilities of nobility, were torn from the inner shadow where I had hidden them and shoved into the light. The parts of me that wished to run, to hunt, to feast, finally had a chance to be free.

Things changed after that.

Now, people are wary, afraid. My parents try, they really do. To teach me to act normal, ladylike, human. It’s of no use. The wolf lurks under my skin, peering out of my eyes.

People whisper about how much of a waste it is, such a shame, that a curse has changed me so. They don’t see, they don’t understand. The wolf, the wildness, the hunger, has always been there. It is me, the deepest parts of my soul given physical form.

Life goes on. My sister, perfect, composed, kind, steps into the limelight. Or is pushed, I should say. To placate those who question my place at Court. Meanwhile I am forced into the background. An animal in the shadows meant to be forgotten.

My wolf balks at the idea of corsets, of rules, of restriction. Doesn’t understand the need for playing nice with nobles it doesn’t like. She’s a creature of instinct, simplicity, and therefore, so am I.

I spend my days roaming the grounds, protecting what is mine. The people of the city avert their eyes as I go past. Whisper about curses and how they spread, about what it means for the Kingdom that their princess is now a different creature altogether.

My wolf claims the entirety kingdom as her territory and as I get older, I travel further. Checking in daily with the people on the far edges of the lands. The misfits and the outcasts. The ones with wisdom and magic who have been pushed towards the edges of the kingdom long before I was born. Hatred and fear pushed us all here, to the lands where the briar grows three men tall. Where the trees and the shadows move on their own and where the water of the lake is always smooth, no matter how fierce the storm.

I help where I can, chasing off the foxes for the farmers, climbing trees to hang fetches and talismans for protection, bringing food to those who need it most. Most time is spent drinking tea and discussing life with the old lady whom everyone calls ‘witch’. She teaches me all she knows. Things the tutors at the castle never knew to teach me. About the plants and trees that grow, the animals that roam deep within the forest. About life here, on the outskirts of society, and all the peoples and creatures that are part of it. Here, the people look me in the eye. They bow their heads in respect but never in fear. The bravest of the children ask to card their hands through my fur. The old woman laughingly gifts me a crown of twigs and burrs and rowanberries the colour of blood. Every time I’m in my human skin I wear that crown with pride.

One day, deep within the forest at the edge of my territory, I meet her. The being who has brought all that was hidden within me to the front and then illuminated it. I shift back to human, standing before her, naked and open, but never vulnerable, thanks to her. I thank her for the gifts she has given me. For the freedom and power and strength. The look on her face when I name her fairy godmother is priceless.

She smiles at me then, a flash of razor-sharp teeth. I bare my own fangs back at her. She asks me then, if I understand. How they are being treated. Those who do not fit in, those who are made of wildness and shadow and blood. How they are shunned because of what they are.

She tells me this will change, once I am queen. When I tell her that I never will be, that my parents will never find a match for me, she simply laughs and tells me not to worry. After all, I have a fairy godmother now.

She keeps close after that. Always watching, always near, but never interfering. Not unless I ask her to. So when war, inevitably, finds itself at our borders, I ask for her aid. I stand in the middle of the bloodied battlefield, staring at the incoming forces. The wolf in me is itching underneath my skin. She wishes to hunt, to kill, to feel flesh rip underneath her claws, blood filling her mouth as she tears them apart. So I call out to my fairy godmother, asking if she would join me for a hunt, before I shed my skin along with my humanity and charge forward.

The battle is brutal and short. The enemy army is better trained, but not against the army of outcasts led by myself and my fairy godmother. Their swords and shields quickly fall against our teeth, claws and magic.

Afterwards, I greet my father on the battlefield. Bare and covered in blood. There is fear in his eyes, yes, but also respect. And, for the first time, trust.

Things change once again. I am brought back into the castle, but nothing is the same. I spend most of my time in the forests, still, but I also find myself fighting. Training with weapons other than tooth and claw. Weathered old men, tutors, hired by my father to teach me all they know. I learn how much I don’t know, how much there is still to learn. I earn my scars, even if they never stay for long. I earn their respect, even if it is hard won. I am no longer alone, some of my people from the outskirts join me and never leave their princess’ side.

It doesn’t take long before suitors come from all over the world, wishing to marry one of my sisters. Singing praises about the small kingdom that could so quickly put an end to war. That could tame monsters and wild things. Silly men, none of us were tamed, we simply chose to fight.

My parents and sisters work hard to get the most advantageous matches. To make sure that both the kingdom and my sisters will continue to grow and prosper. Bargains are struck, feasts are had. One by one my sisters move away, happy with their chosen husbands. All of them are visited by a giant wolf at least once. They know to treat my sisters well, or one night feel the sharp tips of my fangs against their throat.

Years later I am gifted another crown. It is a beautiful thing. Delicate golden flowers and bright shining gems. It feels uncomfortable to me the way all pretty things do. “It might not suit you,” my father tells me, “but you have earned it.”

“As you have earned your rest.” I tell him.

“You will be wonderful, my Queen.”

Rumors start spreading, about the Wolfqueen, the Wild One, sitting upon a blood-red throne. About the Kingdom of monsters where beasts, fae and man live free. About the Queen with the Iron Heart, who turns away all who wish to court her, and kills all who dare more.

It’s not that I do not want someone at my side. I do. I wish for the love that my parents share. That my sisters eventually found with their husbands. But all those who come for my hand, those who finally dare when I have no more free sisters left, come for just that. My hand but not my heart. They are all poised and polished. Perfect little princes who look towards the wealth of the castle but away from the wildness within me. They are afraid to meet my wolf’s cold, assessing gaze.

Some even try to change me, to find the human underneath the wolf. They only try once.

For years, I rule alone. Through another war, through a plague born of magic, through prosperity and abundance. My people always by my side but no one to claim my heart.

But then, a commotion. A man, dressed in furs. No scars on his body, but plenty on his soul. His eyes glowing the same gold as mine in the gentle torchlight. A wildness in them that my wolf recognizes. A challenge that my wolf is eager to take, to rise up to.

“Your Oracle told me to come here.” He tells me, “I asked for guidance, to find what my heart truly desires, and she sent me to you.”

My fairy godmother steps up behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I can’t see her, but I know she is smiling a smile of sharp pointed teeth. No doubt the oracle he speaks of.

“My Queen,” he continues, bowing deep, his eyes never leaving mine, “I came looking for connection, for freedom. I believe I will find it with your time and your company. Will you grant me it?”

“And what, my prince,” for if my fairy godmother sent him, he can only be that, “will you grant me in return?” I lean forward, eager, hungry.

“Loyalty,” he steps forward, onto the dais, “companionship and understanding.” He leans over me for a single, challenging moment, before kneeling before me, baring his throat. “Perhaps in time even love. But for now, the thrill of a hunt. Of a chase.” He grins, baring sharp fangs. A breath, and a beautiful black-furred wolf sits in front of me.

Oh – the hunt is on. A thrill goes through me as I shift, ready to run, to chase him down and claim him for my own. For if one thing is certain, it is that I am a wild thing, a Queen, a hunter, but never, ever, prey.

(First posted on my website)

#fiction #story #short story #werewolf #fairy tale #faeries #fairy #queen #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #fantasy #princess #wolf #romance #well sort of #at the end #fairy godmother #fairytale

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wizardofstars · 3 years

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Every time a baby was born in the kingdom, the healer would write their name down and send it to the capital to be marked in the book. No matter the blood—be it a beggar’s or a lord's—each name was equal and had to be registered in the grand book. From the moment of the birth, until their dying breath as old magic bound to the book marked them gone.

No one knew where it really came from, not anymore, but everyone knew it was impossible to avoid the register. No amount of bribery, threatening—or pleading—could sway the report, the healers always had to send it, lest they faced the knights shutting down their ability to help others.

.Chancellor Palpatine—now the Emperor—still kept the old law. Restricting it further to have anyone visiting be registered temporarily, and those who wished to migrate to be written in permanently. Knights now regularly inspected clinics, healers, anyone who would have such information, arresting any who defined the new laws

Other lands did not hold such a high level of registry of their own populations, mostly keeping records of those who crossed their borders. Most suspected it was due to no one knowing how to replicate the magic within Coruscant's tome, and so it stayed one of a kind.

And now newly named Lord Vader found himself standing before it, staring at the book with contempt. He knew his old name was still hidden within those pages, mocking the existence of Lord Vader.

But that was not why he was here.

Anyone who resided in the old Republic, even if not born there, would be written in, as such was done for the senators, who made it their whole life to serve their own people in the capital.

Knight Skywalker had been there when Senator Amidala had her name officially written in, as her silent shadow and protector.

But Vader needed to know if Palpatine was right.

Opening the grand tome was easier than expected, the weight of it feeling almost non-existent compared to its massive size, but Vader paid that no attention.

The order was alphabetical, after the family name, so did not take a lot to find hers. Vader’s golden eyes scanned the correct page, and when he finally saw it, he felt his metal knees almost give out. His gloved hand caught him on the dais, his fingers digging into the wood.

There it was, Amidala, Padmé. Crossed out.

Vader closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

So it was true.

Numbly, he flickered the pages, landing on another name.

Kenobi, Obi-Wan.

Alive.

He felt as the snarl pulled at his scarred face, glaring at the name almost like he could will it to cross itself out.

It didn’t.

His curiosity satisfied, he moved to close the tome, but something stopped him. A small push inside of him caused him to change the page again, and before he knew it, he was staring at his own discarded name.

Uncrossed.

He huffed, the claws of his gauntlets scratching at the wood as he tightened his grip. It was obvious it would not be crossed out until the moment his scorched heart stopped beating.

And with the Darkness and fire filling his whole being, it would take a long time.

The Force was foolish in thinking just glancing at his name would change anything.

Vader moved to close the tome, to finally put his past behind him when another name caught his attention.

Just below his own, it stood there innocently, shattering his whole world. It made the air seize in Vader’s chest, the fire within him threatening to reduce the fortress around him to dust as his rage grew.

Skywalker, Luke.

She said it would be a boy. She said she wanted to name him Luke.

No one but him and her knew.

The ink was dark, still fresh, so it- he was a child. A boy, with the name she wanted, and with his mother’s legacy. Vader was no longer focused on the calligraphic letters, his mind wandering as it slowly clicked.

Registered, and uncrossed.

As delicately as he could, he ran his claws over the letters, tracing them, his scarred lips soundlessly mouthing the name.

His child.

Palpatine had lied.

The knowledge his beloved Padmé had perished still made his chest tighten painfully, but he hadn’t killed her. She lived long enough to name their son.

Luke...

Palpatine couldn’t know.

The realisation froze Vader. The fire in his veins felt like ice, the hand still bracing him against the dais clenching down, the wood groaning, nearly splitting.

The Emperor would demand Vader to find Luke. In the best scenario, he would try to replace Vader with his son.

In the worst, he would demand he killed Luke.

At the very idea, his whole body tensed, the Darkness roaring within him, thirsty for carnage and blood. For Palpatine’s decapitated head in his claws.

Without even thinking, he carefully glided the razor-sharp metal over the page near the gutter, the paper disconnecting without an issue. For a moment Vader thought some magical trap would spring up, devouring him within a moment for desecrating such an important object.

Yet nothing happened, and he was left with the page in his hand, his focus only on one name. Momentarily, he thought about destroying it, taking care of two birds with one stone, but something in him hesitated. This was his only way of knowing his child still lived.

Without a moment more, he folded the paper, hiding it within his armour, over his heart, before closing the book.

He would find his son.

And no one would stand in his way.

---

“Gone?”

Vader did not even look up at the guards, their armour clicking together as they fidgeted. He was more focused on the map in front of him, his anger building.

“Y-Yes, my Lord. The knights at the border said a man named Ben had passed onto Alderaan days ago.” They paused, and each word stoked Vader’s inner fire more and more, “From their descriptions, it seems he was travelling far, and—”

“And what.”

The guards must have noticed the gauges Vader’s claws had created in the desk, as they straightened; “He had a child with him, sir.”

Both of them had been smart enough to duck as a chair flew over their heads, smashing into the wall, splinters raining upon them.

“I want him found.” His voice was low, nearly a growl as he slowly placed his hands on the table, his uncovered golden eyes staring at the two troopers before him, “I want him caught, alive.”

The two quickly nodded, turning to leave as they took it as a dismissal, but his words froze them in their tracks.

“And remember troopers,” Vader felt his fangs catch at his flesh as he spoke, “If any harm comes to that child, I will not be forgiving.”

The moment his hand rose to wave them away, they were already gone, leaving Vader alone in his dark study as he traced the Empire’s border with the kingdom of Alderaan.

“You are running Obi-Wan,” He murmured, “But where.

“Where are you taking my son?”

---

In another land, one covered in sand, with the sun scorching every inch of the kingdom, was a lost man. He lost everything in a day, and yet gained so much by the end of it.

In his arms lay a child, no more than a week old, bundled up and sleeping peacefully.

But Obi-Wan— Ben, knew it would not last long.

He begged the nurse to not send the letter, that he would take the child away to another land, but she did not listen to him. She wrote the name down, sending it to the fallen capital, and Ben knew she signed the child for death.

So he ran, as fast and far as he could, Luke in his arms the whole time.

He knew where the child would stay, for Anakin— he swore to never return to that place, where his step-brother’s family lived. Tatooine Desert.

Sighing, Ben curled on himself, bringing the infant closer, his eyes closing. How had everything gone down so fast? He most likely would never know.

But he knew he needed to protect the child in his arms, for he was the only one who could save them.

---

“Name.”

“Luke.”

The guard looked up from his book, giving the hooded figure before him an unimpressed look, “Full name if you wish to enter.”

“Of course, my apologies.” The man- by the height, more likely a boy— bowed his head, “Luke Skywalker.”

Scribbling the name down, the guard did not look at the youth as he asked; “And the purpose of your journey?”

There was a pause, the sound of uncertain shuffling, muffled by the soft rain.

“I’m visiting family. My father, specifically.”

With a grumble, the guard wrote it as well, before rolling it up and tying to the messaging raven, “Welcome to the Empire then, Mister Skywalker.”

#*jazz hands*#lil fun oneshot

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hiraethhh-h · 3 years

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red camellias

notes: all im gonna say is… tikytok made me do it (/hj). reader is gender neutral

wordcount: 644

warning(s): borderline smut, strong language, angy satan, body marking/some blood, spoilers for early lessons, a bit of yandere satan(?), implied sex.

satan hated the way you looked at lucifer-. no, the very idea that you were infatuated with his brother pissed him off.

the first time you left the devildom, he (and the others) could hear the sounds of pleasure all the way from lucifer’s room. needless to say, satan woke up to a few extra holes in his wall and bruised knuckles. ever since then, he’s been planning on how to make you his.

the avatar of wrath had invited you to his room late at night, what for exactly? you weren’t sure. your mind ran about, trying to figure out why he would call you over. satan’s personality had always been a mystery ever since you met him. not in a bad way per se, but it was only natural to fear what you didn’t know. nonetheless, you still couldn’t help but trust him.

you drummed your fingers on the wooden surface of his door, using the combination he taught you so satan could discern you from his brothers. after a few moments of silence, you stepped into his room. it was messy as always, books strewn about or stacked into piles that practically touched the ceiling. as normal as satan’s room looked, the air felt… off.

“satan?” you called, walking further into his room. the aforementioned demon was nowhere to be seen, not even at his secret spot behind a wall of books.

a loud, guttural, growl came from behind you, immediately snapping you out of your thoughts. satan’s rough hand pushed you back against the bookshelf behind you, his claws digging into the flesh of your shoulder. you blinked a few times, trying to regain your bearings. the avatar of wrath had you caged in his arms and he did not look happy. his green eyes were thin slits, black onyx horns curling away from the sides of his head, and surprisingly enough, his tail was swishing around behind him in small arcs.

“do you trust me?” he asked in a deep, sultry tone. you could only muster up the courage to give a small nod in response. “you have no fucking idea how long i’ve been waiting for this moment…” satan snarled, his head immediately lunging for your neck.

he wasted no time in digging his fangs into your supple flesh, enough to draw the tiniest bit of blood. satan’s tongue lapped up the crimson liquid that dribbled out, another growl tearing itself out of his chest. surely the bite mark would remain for weeks on end.

“the way you look at him drives me mad,” satan murmured, his tone a mix between anger and sadness, “the way you eye lucifer like a predator would with its prey…” with one last lick, he pulled away. satan’s clawed hands came to lift your chin so you looked directly into his eyes.

“tell me kitten, what can he provide you with that i can’t, hm?”

his armored tail curled up around your leg, giving the limb a good squeeze. tears pricked the corners of your eyes upon feeling the pinching, stinging, sensation the plates left. the hand that held your chin moved to wipe the tears away, a dark chuckle leaving his lips.

“those won’t be the only tears you shed tonight kitten…”

the sharp tip of his tail caressed the skin of your inner thigh, his other clawed hand trailing behind. “i’ll be sure you only think of my name tonight.” satan growled, grasping your thigh roughly. a startled yelp left your lips at the gesture. your cheeks were flushed at this point, your heart threatening to leap out of your chest.

the lust in the air was thick, heavy, and mixed in with a dose of anger. you were certain you might not be able to feel your legs tomorrow, much less walk for a few days, possibly even weeks…

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#obey me swd #obey me satan #satan obey me #om satan #om satan x reader #satan x reader #obey me fic #obey me scenarios #obey me x reader

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angelicsentinel · 3 years

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the silence in black and white (1/?)

Prompt: Expertise | Emotion: Longing

The lights from the vanity washed Saguru out. Stadium after stadium, tour after tour. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy like bruises. He lost himself, staring at the mirror. How had it come to this? He picked up his eyeliner, tapping it between his fingers against the vanity’s top.

The crackling sound of burning fire. Saguru watched the mirror, empty of everything save his own reflection. But mirrors obscured just as much as they revealed. He was there. Saguru knew, even if the mirror didn’t.

Hands wrapped against his bare, muscled chest. A warm chuckle in his ear as a broad chest pressed against his back. He smelled of the faintest hint of embers.

“I didn’t summon you,” Saguru said.

“Didn’t you?” the demon asked. He reached out with his long claws and rubbed the area over Saguru’s heart with one rough palm. He then closed his fingers, his hand forming a five pointed star, and jabbed his nails into Saguru’s flesh.

Saguru winced, and a bright blue five pointed star appeared on his skin temporarily before disappearing. “Is it time for the deal to come due?” he asked.

“That would be telling, wouldn’t it, Sa-gu-ru?” he said, singsong.

“You’re needlessly cruel,” Saguru said.

“You’re the one that asked for my expertise,” the demon said, burying his face in his neck and licking his throat with one forked tongue. Saguru shivered and tilted his head to the side. “And my my, how that’s made you millions.”

"I wasn't what we agreed on," Saguru said. "I wanted you to save their lives."

"And the money did, didn't it?" He rubbed his horn against Saguru's face. Spiraled and twisted, shaped like a markhor goat’s, but covered in soft velvet.

From memory, Saguru knew he had eyes the colour of the ocean depths that burned indigo with inner fire. That if he turned to look, he’d have unnaturally pale skin, almost the same colour of ice. Inhuman, one might say, if one were so inclined.

Saguru was so inclined.

“Didn’t it?” he repeated.

“Yes,” Saguru said hoarsely. “Are you taking your voice back?” If so, Saguru would be glad to be rid of it.

“That’s not how this works,” Kid said, tickling his claws up his neck to cup his throat. “It’s yours to keep.” He laughed. “The way you are mine to keep.”

“And if I refuse to perform?” Saguru asked, snapping the eyeliner pencil in half.

“You will,” Kid said, and nuzzled against his cheek. “My dearest former detective.” He spun the chair around and seated himself in Saguru’s lap sideways, booted legs hanging over the edge of the chair. Saguru was taller, but only by nine centimeters or so. The boots he wore were leather, shin-high and thick-soled and buckled. Motorcycle boots, if Saguru had to guess. Leather trousers, fingerless gloves, a fishnet shirt, and a studded leather jacket finished the ensemble. He patted Saguru’s cheek. “Your boyfriend commands it.”

Saguru couldn’t help the way his lip curled. “Boyfriend?”

“It has come to my attention I need to keep a closer watch on you,” he said, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"You've already taken enough. My privacy, too?" What little he had left of it, anyway. After the paparazzi and the fans.

"I think you'll find that won't be much of a problem anymore," he said. He grinned wickedly, his teeth razor sharp, and snapped his fingers. Fire sparked, bright blue. Saguru felt the heat, watching it warily. He snapped again and the eyeliner pieces levitated and became whole.

Kid shifted so that he was straddling him. Saguru sucked in a breath at the intimate position. He felt the heat through both layers of leather. "I'm not going to give in."

Another laugh. "Do you think you have a choice?" He cupped his cheek, tapping his claws on his temple, next to his eyes. “That’s cute.”

He leaned in for a kiss. Saguru's lips parted against his will; he struggled against the movement, but the binding was whole and complete. He could only feel; his lips were obscenely warm; his tongue carried the taste of flame.

His body reacted against his will. Despite his inhuman looks and his new attitude, his body was still Kuroba's. The demon was exceptionally, exceptionally cruel.

Saguru still managed to pull away. "Enough," he said, his voice rough, both from arousal and from fighting the binding.

"But Saguru, isn't this what you wanted?" Kid said with a pout.

He shifted in his lap, and Saguru cursed. "Not like this," he said, his voice weighted with want.

Kid traced his lips. “You should hear how he feels about this. I wonder if you’d sing a different tune, then.”

Saguru turned his head, cross at the reminder that he wore Kuroba’s face. “I don’t want to sing at all.”

Kid tapped the glowing blue tattoo over his heart, causing Saguru’s body to lock into place and turn rigid, and wrenched his head back so Saguru was facing him. His eyes gleamed. “Too bad, puppet. You signed up for it. No take backsies. Kiss me,” he commanded, and Saguru had to obey.

He fought hard as his hands and body shifted of its own accord. No matter how hard he struggled, it was fruitless.

(Maybe, he thought, it was because he really didn’t want to fight it at all. It was Kuroba’s body and it wore Kuroba’s face, and it said that Kuroba wanted this, but it would say anything to get Saguru to do what it wanted and therefore it couldn’t be trusted)

The kiss was soft, slow. Exploratory. Kid’s lips were soft. Saguru felt himself give in, little by little as Kid shifted to be more flush against his lap. Kid pulled him close, wrapping his arms around his back; his touch was hot.

Saguru had yearned for this for a long time, and it was all fake.

But he would take what he could get. Keeping the demon close would keep Kuroba close, and it knew it. It knew how to press all of his buttons and shape him to its will.

The fire was there long before, and oh, how it burned.

The door to his dressing room burst open. “Mister Hakuba, the band sent me to tell you to start your vocal exercises, you’re on in thirty—Oh, I’m so sorry!” his personal assistant held up her clipboard to cover her eyes.

Not that she’d see anything, since Kid had reverted to human as soon as the door swung out.

“Don’t worry, his voice will get a lot of exercise before then,” Kid said, baring his teeth at her. She took a step back.

“Kuroba,” Saguru scolded. He looked up at Diana and nodded. “I’ll be ready by then, don’t worry.”

“Alright!” she squeaked, and slammed the door behind her on her way out.

“You didn’t have to scare her,” Saguru said.

“A little fear is healthy,” Kid said, horns and fangs and claws back. “Let's get you warmed up, so we can play a little more before your performance.” A flame appeared on the tip of his finger and he touched it to Saguru’s throat. Warmth spread up through his throat, and he exhaled slowly.

“You’ll enchant the whole arena tonight,” Kid murmured. “I am not the demon of music for nothing.”

That was all well and good, but Saguru longed to be free.

[two]

#magic kaito #dcmk #sagukai #hakuba saguru #kuroba kaito #demons #dubious consent #rock star au #kissing #dcmkemogust2021 #rating: t

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

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Stranded Part 4

Savage x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

WARNINGS: Gore, Blood, Death, All around violence, Oof fucking angst. Don’t read if you have a weak stomach.

A/N: So I haven’t written anything this graphic before and I’m positive there’s A LOT worse out there but I did push my personal limits. I kept this chapter short so if anyone needs to skip it, they can. It’s probably not as bad as I’m hyping it up to be but if gore bothers you badly you can absolutely skip this chapter and it won’t hurt the overall story. I’ll be sure to mention the important parts in the next chapter so if you do skip you won’t miss anything too important.

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Savage watched through moonlit woods, aided by his night vision. The gangly creatures dragged his princess away by her legs. She clawed at the dirt, tearing at anything she could grasp, raking at roots and soil as she was pulled deeper. Overwhelmed with terror, she let out a scream, “Savage!” Giving chase immediately with his saber-staff in an iron grip; his body tore through the underbrush. Running as quickly as his feet would carry him. These beasts were fast; their bodies whipped through the air around over growth and thick tree trunks. He lost sight of them but could still hear the guttural shrieks of the monsters and the terrified howls of his princess rip through the freezing night air.

Why now? Why had they breached the bounds of their territory tonight after all these years? What changed?

He could feel them through the force. Cold, slippery signatures surrounded her bright flourishing light, attempting to violate what was pure. As he pushed forward, ignoring the branches and thorns scraping his flesh, their numbers grew. His mind wasn’t working fast enough to realize he was running into an ambush. Even if he did realize it, he would continue towards her anyway. Glowing putrid green eyes shone through dead branches, the occasional snarl tearing through the atmosphere.

Her signature was fading into the distance.

He had fallen too far behind.

Her screams had stopped.

He regretted leaving her alone in the first place.

Panic began flaring in his chest, lighting his nerves on fire and boiling his blood.

But he was a hunter; as was his brother and his father before him.

This is what he had been bred for.

Fight for and protect the woman that had not only chosen him, but he had also chosen.

He stopped and closed his eyes, focusing on her scent and her fluttering force signature.

There.

He knew what path to follow.

He lit his saber and spun on the ball of his foot, cutting down one of the creatures that dared to leap out at him from the canopy. When its body dropped limply into a smoking heap the seal had been broken and chaos rained down on the golden Zabrak.

Dozens of the snarling beings dropped out of the branches swiping sharpened claws at his throat and his legs. He was born, lived and hunted in the night on Dathomir. Growing and training until he was the most fearsome thing that stalked through the forests once the sun had set. His roar tore from his throat as the red of his blade cut down any living nightmare that dared to stand in the way of his princess.

One of the creatures latched onto his back and before he could bite into Savage’s throat the Zabrak reached behind him, sank his claws into his shoulder blades and swung the monster over his head onto the rocky ground below him. An almost deafening crack of the monster’s spine rang out, killing it instantly. Igniting both sides of his saber-staff he twirled it in his hands and turned, gutting the three closest to him. The cauterization not stopping their entrails from dropping out of their now hollow bellies.

Savage leapt at the next one nearest him and tore out its esophagus with his fangs, blackened blood dripped down his chin as he stretched his arms out and gripped two more in a steely force choke. He squeezed until their heads sprang from their necks. He kicked another in its sunken chest, propelling it into the trunk of a tree. He made quick work of the remaining creatures with his saber in a barrage of quick and brutal moves.

Just before her signature gave out the last of the beasts dropped into a crumpled heap at his feet hissing out the last of their breaths. Taking off towards the flickering light he ran; ignoring the blood that seeped from the deep lacerations from the beasts’ claws.

He came upon a break in the tree line that opened into a large circular clearing. Moonlight shone on a tree that towered higher than any of the others growing in the center of the clearing. Its trunk thicker than the ship he had crashed here on. He could feel the dark side of the force ebbing and flowing from deep within it. He could smell her blood on the breeze. He could see her claw marks in the soil leading to a hollow within the trunk; sparse bloodied handprints dragged across the dead bark of the great tree. Her light was slowly being snuffed out by darkness.

He stepped inside and nearly stumbled over broken roots. With no moonlight to reflect off of his surroundings for his eyes to pick up he had to see by the light of his saber. His stomach lurched at the sight before him.

Bathed in a red glow, her body lay in the center of the hollow, barely moving. Her eyes were foggy and her chest was hardly rising or falling as they tore into her legs, her arms and her stomach.

One lifted its gaunt face from her neck, pulling a chunk of flesh away with its teeth, to shriek a warning at him. Grabbing it by its throat, he smashed its head into the ground, skull crashing under his palm and spurting black blood across the floor. He reached out with the force and pulled the other three off of her and sheathed his saber inside their chests in succession.

He looked upon his princess, bitten, bloodied, broken.

Her limbs were bent incorrectly, chunks of missing flesh revealed the muscles and tendons that lay beneath the skin.

She lay limp on the earth.

Wet tear tracks ran from her eyes down her cheeks and pooled on the soil below, mixing with the blood that had poured out of her neck wound.

Her breath came out in rasping wheezes as she raised a trembling hand out to his face.

She didn’t have the strength to close the distance between them and when her conviction ran out, her hand fell to the earth.

He dropped to his knees beside her and lifted her into his arms, pulling her into his chest as tears pricked at his eyes. She opened her mouth and tried to speak but only a quiet gurgling left her lips, followed by droplets of blood that leaked out of the corners of her mouth. He watched her eyes cloud over as her pupils dilated from the loss of blood and she lost consciousness, going limp in his embrace.

Her pulse fluttered sporadically, weakly in his ears.

A sob escaped him as he lay her back down on the ground and gently as he could, placed one hand on her chest and the other on her legs. Letting out one last wavering breath he closed his eyes and imagined his life force flowing from his hearts, through his arms and into her. Through the force he reached out to her, pleading for her not to leave him. Begging the gods for the strength to heal the only other love he has ever known, to allow him to repent for his brother’s murder.

He could feel his body weakening as hers started to mend itself. Flesh regrew over wounds before his very eyes, her pulse beat stronger with each passing second. Just before it became too much for him her eyes snapped open and a loud gasp left her lips. She force pushed herself away from the center of the hollow until her back thud agianst the inner wall of the tree. Glancing around the small space frantically before realizing that she and Savage were the only living beings in proximity.

“P-princess. I’m sorry I.. wasn’t… fast enough..” Savage toppled over from his knees onto his back and lost consciousness.

When he woke, the first thing he saw was the familiar wooden ceiling of their small cabin. He groaned and raised his hand to rub his throbbing head. He had tried to sit up but two small warm hands pressed lightly agianst his chest, softly pushing him back to a laying down position.

“You must rest my love.”

He turned his head to look into your eyes and a thankful smile graced his lips before turning into a grimace.

“I did not fail…” he whispered.

“No, my sweet darling,” you cupped his cheeks in your hands and placed a lingering kiss on his lips, “you saved my life. I owe you for every breath I take now.”

“You owe me.. nothing,” his brows creased in effort, “I only returned what you have given me,” he allowed his eyes to close as you peppered his face in kisses and massaged his scalp; eliciting a rumbling purr.

“H-how did we get back here..?”

“Mira found us. You killed them all. There are no more beasts in the trees, the valley is free of them. She must have sensed it and came to our aid.”

“Mmm, remind me to save the best cuts of my next few hunts for her.”

You smiled, utterly grateful for the brave warrior that both saved your life and survived the ordeal himself.

“Please my love, rest now. You expelled much of your life force into me when you healed me. The sun will return soon, sleep.”

And so he did. Safe back home with the love of his life, he slept for days. Thanking the gods every minute for granting him what he required to vanquish the monsters that had haunted your nightmares and feasted upon your body.

While your love rested you rubbed the muscles in your arms. The creatures; bite must have been venomous. The veins in your arms and legs had blacked just under your skin and you could feel the subtle burn. Right now, all you wanted was to lay and rest with your Zabrak. Force healing could cure infections, mend bone and flesh, but toxins had to be treated appropriately. Not now, now you needed rest as much as Savage.

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@thundersheild

#savage opress #savage opress x reader #savage opress fluff #savage opress angst #tw: gore #tw: injury #SWTCW #SWTCW au #Zabrak #nightbrother #night brother #savage x reader #nightbrother x reader #night brother x reader

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7demonhoes · 3 years

Text

The devildom and hell are not the same part 3

This took too long to write but it is done! Thank you to everyone who asked me to write a third and final installment to my short story series! If you’re interested, here is Part 1 and Part 2. And if you have any idea for fics you want to read, let me know, I need the ideas! I do angst, nsfw stuff, and fluff :)

Description: MC has decided that they would lose anything rather than be apart from the demon brothers. But now, after making their decision, MC must come to terms with the new wickedness inside of them.

Word Count: 4,942

Warnings: Violence, death.

I stand in the cellar of the House of Lamentation, surrounded by gray statues of demons as old as time. Each statue cups a ball of fire in their hands, the green flame burning for eternity. Shadows cross ominously throughout the room, dancing in the knowledge of the ritual that is to come.

I stand in the middle of the large room, staring at the impressive pillars that carry the weight of the mansion above me. Details of the brothers Falling are carved into each slab of marble. I shudder, both from the cold and from the anxiety. What does it feel like to be immortal? Will life seem redundant in a few hundred years? Will I regret this decision to shed my humanity?

Someone coughs, not out of necessity but to get my attention instead. Seven demons surround me, their emotions filling the air with electric tension. They all stand perfectly still, their eyes glowing apprehensively.

The one who coughed, Lucifer, raises his eyebrows at me in a silent question. Are you ready?

I swallow in an attempt to soothe my parched throat. Nodding, I steady myself and lower my eyes to the black goblet in front of me. It stands on a stone table, the contents within empty for now.

After making my decision and telling the brothers that I would rather become a demon and spend eternity with them than forget my time in the Devildom, I was immediately taken to the House of Lamentation to prepare for the ritual. I shift worriedly in my robe, the dark gray fabric flowing in the air with an impossible wind.

From somewhere beyond my vision, Diavolo steps forward and into my line of sight. He stands proudly in his demon form, all signs of his former anger completely eradicated. He gives me a fanged grin. "Once the ritual begins, there is no turning back. Are you prepared for what's to come?"

I take in a shuddering breath, thinking it over once again. I scan the faces of the demon brothers, their eyes hopeful and desperate. Would I give up an eternity with them to live a mundane, human life?

No. Never.

I nod. "I'm ready," I say, and my voice is filled with strong convention.

Each of the seven brothers give an audible sigh of relief. Diavolo chuckles quietly. "Let it be done," he says, and I swear that a humming sound of pleasure comes from the statues at the edge of the room.

"In order to grant you power in your demon form," Diavolo starts, "We will incorporate the power of your pacts into the ritual. You will not be a lesser demon; you will hold the same power that each of the brothers hold within them. This is our gift to you."

I blink, surprised. "How?"

"Through blood." Diavolo lifts his arms gesturing towards the demon brothers. "Come forth."

Belgaphore approaches me first. He's the most awake I've ever seen him, eyes wide and clear. He smiles almost shyly at me, eyes flickering with mischievous light. He walks so that he's behind me.

Diavolo whispers my name. I stare at him expectantly. "Remove your robe," he demands.

I begin to protest, then stop. I'm becoming a demon; I don't think I should be worrying about modesty. I stare at a spot of the wall in front of me, keeping my eyes away from the men surrounding me. I bite my inside of my cheek and remove my robe, the breeze making my naked body prickle.

"Blood will be mixed with blood," Diavolo whispers, his eyes bright with apprehension.

I feel Belphie's clawed hand against my upper back. I gasp at the sudden touch, twisting my head to look at him. "Sorry," he smirks at me, "this is going to hurt a little."

He swipes a claw across my skin. I suck in a gasp as hot blood wells in a shallow cut. He quickly swipes at the palm of his hand before pressing it against my back. Almost immediately, the mark of our pack glows in a purple light, washing his face in it's hue. The flesh tingles, completely replacing the pain with a feeling of rolling needles.

Belphie steps away. I turn to face Beel, who smiles encouragingly at me. "I'm excited to spend eternity with you," he sighs happily, bringing his wrist to his mouth and biting down. He makes a small, careful cut right above my stomach, mumbling apologies the entire time. When he pressed his wrist against my cut, the pack burns bright red. A feeling of hunger washes over me, so powerful that I almost double over with the strange need for something more, something fulfilling.

Asmo approaches me next, a familiar, flirtatious smile on his full lips. He kneels in front of me, a hand snaking up to caress my inner thigh. I blush, fighting against myself to back away. Asmo giggles, "The pain feels good, doesn't it? Don't worry darling; you're almost done." He takes a beautiful knife out from the sleeve of his shirt, the hilt carved in pink roses. He licks the blade, leaving a thin trace of blood on the steel. He lowers his face to my thigh, and with a warm brush of his breath on my skin, bites down.

I gasp as pink light glows from my thighs. Asmo winks as he walks away, and I have to take a deep breath to steady the rapid breathing of my heart. Something wicked and exciting tickles in my gut.

Satan is next to step forward. He gently takes my hand, thumb swiping across my knuckles. "You were the first being in existence to make me feel something other than rage." He bares his teeth in a fanged smile. "After today, let's do something truly demonic together." He slashes three claws across my knuckles before pressing a knife to my hand. "Your turn."

Without hesitating, I take it and grab his hand, turning it so that the pad of his thumb is facing upwards. I take the tip of the knife and press downwards until blood pools. I press his thumb against my knuckles. The pack marks against my knuckles burn green with a maddening heat. I immediately have to clench my hands into my fists.

Behind me, I hear Levi's timid voice. "M- my turn." When I turn my head to look at him, his face is completely red. "Please don't look at me!" He begs, "Especially when you- you're…" he hides his head in his hoodie. "...naked."

I suppress a chuckle, instead taking his wrist and pressing his hand against the back of my neck. "Help me finish this, Levi."

He gulps, curling his fingers and grabbing at the skin at my neck. I turn as he cuts me, waiting for the warmth of his blood pressing against my own.

When it comes, goosebumps ripple on my neck and a selfish chill travels down my spine. Levi hurries away. I blink, and Mammon is in front of me. He pressed a golden claw ring against his palm. He gingerly takes my hand before pressing it against my palm as well. He grasps my hand, and my palms shine brightly in gold. "Remember that I was your first demon, ya hear?"

I nod at him. "And you always will be."

His eyes widen, a blush erupting on his cheeks. "Shuddap, ya human."

Lucifer steps up behind Mammon and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Not for long."

Once he reaches me, he rests his hand against my heart and swipes down with a claw. His eyes are dancing with fire as he makes a shallow cut on his lip.

He rests one hand at my hip before leaning down, pressing his lips against me. My flesh burns blue, an icy feeling creeping from my heart and up to my throat. Lucifer leans forward, lips brushing against my ear. "Remember our pact. You are now mine. Forever."

I gulp as he turns away. Diavolo chuckles, stepping up to the goblet. He picks up a thick blade from beside it, digging it into the flesh of forearm. He rests his hand above the goblet, letting the dark liquid drip steadily into the cup.

I take a moment to concentrate on my body. Washed in a rainbow of glowing colors, my skin ripples and crawls with a mixture of pleasant chills and waves of heat. All anxiety of my decision is gone, even as something in my gut churns more and more with each passing moment. Something wicked prickles at the back of my mind.

Diavolo picks up the goblet and faces me. "You are to make a pact with me." His voice deepens with power. The firelight flickers, casting his face in shadow. "And offer me your soul."

I open my mouth, finding it difficult to speak. Without my soul, what will happen to me? Will I change beyond recognition?

Do I mind if I do?

I bite my lip. No matter what happens, it's already far too late. I've made my decision. It's time to see it through.

"Lord Diavolo," I breathe, feeling the power in my words, "I offer you my soul."

He passes the goblet to me. Warmth spreads across my body as I take it. I look down to see black runes carved into my skin, covering every part of my body from the neck down with shifting marks. The only place where it is not etched into my skin is where the pacts of each of the brothers burn. "Drink," he commands, and I raise the goblet to my lips.

The blood is bitter against my tongue. As I take my first swallow, the world around me dims. Somewhere beyond the black, I hear Diavolo's voice. "Once you have finished this unholy Communion, your journey will be over. You will be one of us: a dark, wicked thing. Drink, leave your humanity behind, and become a demon."

My body hums with his words. Blood steams in my mouth, burning my throat as the thick liquid pours over my tongue. And with one final gulp, I drain the cup.

My hands are shaking as I lower the cup from my mouth, the tremors vibrating them so badly that the goblet in my hands falls to the floor with a sudden clang. I gasp as searing heat spreads throughout my body, as if Diavolo's blood is scorching through my veins. The back of my head feels as if it's about to burst, and with a sudden cry I throw myself to the floor, curling my legs and clutching them to my chest with shaking arms.

Someone growls, and I look up to see Mammon rushing forth. Diavolo stops him, and Mammon feverishly claws at the hulking demon to get to me. With a grunt, Diavolo pushes Mammon's chest, and he flies backwards and crashes into a statue.

Something rises in my throat at the sight of Mammon, his body crumpled against the stone statue. A deep, alien rumbling sound climbs out of my mouth, the low growl echoing throughout the cavern. I feel the heat of eight pairs of eyes on me at once. The flames cease to flicker. The air grows still.

My flesh crawls and writhes as deep lacerations etch themselves into my skin, forming harsh cracks. The growl in my throat turns into a groan, and I watch with wide eyes as the intricate runes glowing from my skin dig themselves deep into me. There is no blood, only deep tunnels of hurt. The pacts scratch into my body, the gouged wounds turning into the color that each pack represents.

Through the pain, I notice the power. My muscles contort as they grow in size, bones lengthening and shifting underneath. I bite down on my cheeks to keep from screaming and taste blood as fangs dig into my own flesh, sharp molars and incisors itching to bite down harder and revel in the taste. A strong, terrible pressure emits from my skull and I scratch at it with newly formed claws, long black nails slicing open skin to reveal what feels like hard tips of rock bursting through my skull. The horns are about three inches in length and are covered in slick red.

And suddenly, the pain stops and turns into a dull throbbing. After a few moments, I take a deep breath and attempt to stand.

Someone wraps the robe around my back just as a different pair of arms help me get to my feet. I pull the robe against my bare skin, though I no longer feel the chill of the air around me.

I have to blink several times as I peer around the room. The cellar, once a dark, shadowy place, now appears to me as a brightly lit room. The details of the faces around me are clearer than they've ever been; I don't think I've ever seen the world around me with such clarity.

Something strange pulls at my chest. A dark, low heat attempts to twist my body towards a certain direction, an excited tingling feeling churning in my gut. The back of my mind prickles, and a mixture of hunger, anger, and need pours through me. The demon pacts of Beel, Satan, and Asmo shine even brighter. I should go to the place that is pulling me.

"What is this?" I ask, slowly turning my head to face the pull.

Beside me, Satan frowns pensively. He looks toward the same direction I am. "You're feeling Hell."

I blink as the realization dawns on me. Something in the back of my mind recoils at the thought, but it's quickly pushed away by the greed to quench the thirst within me. My palms are bathed in bright gold as the color pulses.

"The pull gets stronger the longer you wait," Lucifer says from behind me. "It makes it hard to appear human, and eventually it will tear the beast from under your skin."

I look down at my body, unfamiliar to me. "Is this my True Form?"

"Yes, darling." I hear Asmo's light footsteps approach me. "Would you like to see?"

I nod. He pulls out a hand mirror from his pocket and hands it to me. I open it carefully, unaccustomed to the claws.

I lift the mirror to my face and stare into my reflection.

Tiny runes the size of veins cover my face, giving my face a dark and ethereal glow. I frown at my features thoughtfully; they haven't changed much; my jaw is sharper and my face a little more gaunt.

My eyes, however, shift in color. When the firelight wanes, they glow just as the pacts etched into my skin do.

I silently hand the mirror back to Asmo. I scan the room, noticing that each of the brothers stare at me expectantly. I shift uncomfortably, suddenly realizing that I don't know what to do from here.

I have forever with them. How do I even begin to understand that? Time has always felt limited to me. As a human, the thought of death was never far. And beyond that, I always thought about how my time at the Devildom would come to an end.

And now? Now I have an eternity, and I have no idea how to process that.

I scratch my head lightly with a claw. "Uh," I begin, biting the inside of my cheek, "What happens now?"

Belphie snorts. "For now, you can change into actual clothes. After that, it's no longer my problem." He sticks his tongue out at me, his eyes playful. "I'm taking a nap."

As he leaves the room, Lucifer gestures towards the spiraling staircase. "Belgaphore has a point. Let's get you comfortable and then we can sort out our next steps."

I nod and follow the brothers upstairs. After I change out of the robe, Diavolo, the brothers, and me sit in the common room.

"First thing's first," Diavolo begins, "You must learn how to shift between forms. Then we can focus on training."

I blink. "Training?"

Lucifer nods. "You're a brand new demon. You have powers you are yet to understand; we don't even know what you're truly capable of. You have to not only learn your new strengths, but you have to learn how to live with your new needs and urges."

Satan cuts in, "Like that pull you felt towards Hell. You can still feel it, right?"

The need increases as I concentrate on it. Something dark in my mind salivates at the thought of going to that place. I suppress a chill. I nod silently, trying to push the pull from my mind.

"Once you revert back to your human form, you won't be able to change to your True Form unless you are severely agitated."

"Or in Hell," I whisper.

Satan and Lucifer nod. "Try changing. Focus in on yourself and concentrate on your body." Lucifer leans forward on the couch, watching me intently.

I do as he says. I close my eyes and focus on the beating of my heart, willing it to slow. My body cools as the warmth of the pacts etched into my skin fade. I look down to see my body as it was before my transition.

Asmo, sits at my feet with his arms sprawled across my knees, reaches up and pokes at my biceps. "You've grown some muscle, darling."

I shake my head, eyes traveling across the faces of Levi, Mammon, and Beel. "What now?"

The three of them sit quietly, thinking. After a few moments of silence, Mammon barks a laugh, leaving back on the seat across from me and crossing his arms. "Who cares? You have forever to think about it."

I smile, looking at my demon boys. I think I can get used to forever.

The week passes by in a blur. Days are filled with school, training, and spending time with the brothers. Solomon has asked me to make a pact with him dozens of times. No matter how much time we spend together, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to fully trust that shady wizard enough to offer him control over me.

Learning what I'm capable of has been strange. I'm still getting used to the superhuman strength and speed. I may not have wings, but I'm able to keep up with the fastest of the brothers with ease.

Besides strength and speed, I've yet to learn any other new abilities. I haven't even learned how to shift from my human form; I can never focus my energy enough to change. But I can always feel something dark in my mind black tendrils twisting. I try to keep them at bay. Maybe I don't want to know what I'm truly capable of.

But the pull of Hell is only growing stronger, and I can hardly think about anything but the memory of screaming human souls crashing in my ears. Something shifts and sneers under my skin at the thought of those tortured souls. I push the feeling down, trying desperately to forget it. What happens if I embrace it? Do I lose a part of myself?

I swallow, forcing my attention back to class. I doodle idly in my notebook, my leg bouncing wildly. I ignore the glares of the other demons surrounding me; they never liked me while I was human, but now that I have strength and power equal to theirs or more, their hatred for me is palpable. Eight of the most powerful demons of all time have chosen me as their own. Before, I was prey. Now I'm a challenger.

I keep close to the demon brothers during the school day. I haven't been left alone once during the entire week, but Mammon was summoned by Diavolo for stealing something of his, leaving me alone.

I scratch at the desk. At least I'm meeting most of the brothers for lunch right after this class, so I won't have to watch as all the people around me salivate at the idea of jumping me.

Just as I'm able to calm the anxiety growing inside of me, the teacher coughs before muttering something about ending class early. The pack up and rush out of the room.

Okay. Nevermind. My body stiffens as I slowly look over the room, watching as every demon's eyes turn to me. My spine shivers.

I hope no one can see the soft shaking of my fingers as I slowly put my stuff away and get ready to meet the brothers for lunch. As I stare at my desk, I hear a chair squeak loudly. When I look back up to try to stand, I find a demon standing in the way. He grins maniacally at me, the need for violence written all over his face.

"You're all alone now." The entire room watches us, the tense energy in the air palpable. "What, your high demons turned you into one of us and then threw you away?"

I ignore him, unsure of what else to do. I stand in front of him, hoisting my backpack over my shoulder and moving to walk past him.

He reaches out a hand and places it firmly on my chest. A growl rises in my throat, but before it can be heard the demon pushes me into the air and I fly backwards, crashing into the wall behind me.

The pain hardly even registers beyond the rage. Without thinking, I focus on the darkness whirling in my head and my gut and let it flow through my veins. I get to my feet, wiping at a thin trickle of blood I feel at the back of my head, and as my body fills with a deep rage a distant part of me noticing the strengthening of my muscles. Something pinched at my gums, head, and fingers as black claws, horns and fangs shoot out from shifting skin.

Green runes glow from my knuckles. The demon raises his eyebrows at me. As he stays still, sizing me up, I reach back into myself without thinking and focus on the hunger, the need to win. To gorge myself on this demon's blood.

Something around my gut warms. Muscles tear and grow. When I speak, it's hard to form words beyond the growls. "You think the monster they made wouldn't be able to take care of themself?"

The man erupts into his demon form, saliva dripping from his fat tongue. I focus on the pricking in the back of my neck and focus my envy, borrowing Levi's speed. I do the same for Asmo's grace, and by the time the demon reaches me I'm able to dodge his first blow.

I call out to the brothers and Diavolo in my head, using the strength of the pacts to try and reach them. Each pact suddenly explodes in a blast of fury, and I know that they heard my call.

The demon lunges again and I dodge, springing to the side as huge claws swipe downward towards my eyes. I see an opening near the man's gut and take it, but I'm not used to the sheer strength of my new body and end up becoming off balance.

The demon yells triumphantly as he swipes at me again, lifting his hand to strike. I watch the movement in slow motion as I stumble, unable to do anything. His hand sweeps in a wide arch towards my face into what I know is a killing blow.

Something bellows at the other side of the classroom. Time slams back into motion as Lucifer, Diavolo, and Satan run into the room. The demon attacking me immediately stops, claws inches from my face.

Lucifer opens his mouth, eyes glowing with terrifying anger.

I look at the demon who attacked me. He's half turned to the side, staring at the three high demons with his arm half raised. The darkness and fury I let in swarms, and I can't push it back. I think about the demon, how close it was to killing me. How much I want to return the favor.

Something in me screams.

Before I can register what I'm doing, I step forward and jam my elbow into the demon's exposed throat. He stumbles back, coughing, as I reach for his outstretched arm and twist it so that he turns, his back facing me.

Something wet drips from my chin as I kick him in the back of the knees. He falls to the floor with a quiet moan. My mouth twists into a cruel smile, a clawed hand grabbing the demon by the hair and tilting his head in such a way that he is exposing his already injured neck.

And with a cry of animal excitement, I slash his throat with my claws.

He collapses, gurgling in his own blood. I'm breathing heavily from the adrenaline, heart racing as I look up at the high demons facing me.

Belphie slinks into the room. He sees the twitching body on the floor and nods. "Nice."

Lucifer says my name. I turn to him, but my eyes keep on drifting back to the demon. To his blood.

Diavolo turns to Belphie. "It's time. We have to take them." He sighs, glancing at the body on the floor. "But it would be difficult to take them in their current state."

Belphie nods, stepping over to me. It's hard to register his movement. The demons watching seem to be anxious, seem to understand that I want more. I want their blood, to see it pulsing from open wounds, to watch as their eyes widen in fear and-

Belphie's hand presses softly against my forehead. "Sleep," he commands.

My vision blurs as I slump against him, my last thought about the blood under my fingernails.

I wake up staring at the night sky. I look around, seeing the brothers leaning next to me. Diavolo stands a few paces back. He perks up once he sees I'm awake. "So sorry about that, but you wouldn't have come here without trying to kill a few more demons."

I yawn, blinking rapidly. "Kill?"

"Yeah dude, you went psycho," Belphi says.

"Nevermind that," Satan shakes his head. "How do you feel?"

I raise a hand to my forehead. I don't feel horns, so I must have shifted back to my human form. I groggily try to remember what happened before I passed out. "Fine, I guess," I respond, narrowing my eyes at Belphie as I remember just how I ended up falling asleep.

"Fine?" Levi snorts, sounding almost impressed, "you just teared out some guy's throat."

I wince. Mammon reaches out and leans a hand on my shoulder. "I bet he deserved it," he whispers. "He tried to hurt ya, didn't he?"

I shudder. "I think he was about to kill me." I look to Lucifer, Satan, and Diavolo. "If you hadn't come so quickly…"

Lucifer frowns. "We should discuss that. You were able to call us through our pacts."

I frown, thinking about how I naturally used my newfound abilities while in danger. "I think I drew your power from them."

"You mean you could use our abilities?" Asmo wrinkles his forehead. "That is certainly interesting."

Diavolo walks over, staring at me pointedly. "You have the potential to be much stronger than I realized." He raises his eyebrows. "And you clearly are strong willed."

"What do you mean?"

Belphie scoffs. "Don't you realize where you are?"

I look around. I sit at the top of a steep hill, dry ash covering my clothes and sifting through my fingers as I clutch the black ground. I look to my left and see the shimmering air of a forcefield.

"Oh," I whisper to myself. As soon as I realize where I am, the pull I've grown accustomed to suddenly explodes. I gasp at the power, the burning instinct sending sharp tingles throughout my body. I feel an impossible mixture of each of the seven sins as my pacts glow in an ethereal light.

I shift, the pain almost unnoticeable besides the overwhelming need to step beyond the forcefield. I stand, my limbs moving on their own accord.

"This is it," Beel mutters beside me. "You know what you'll do when you walk through." He grabs my hand. I clutch his, a mixture of desire and disgust swarming in my stomach.

"Are you prepared?" Diavolo asks from behind me.

I swallow. I remember what it felt like to embrace the newfound wickedness within me, how the hot feel of blood under my claws sent shivers of pleasure through me. I remember how much I liked it, and something in me cowers in fear of what I have become.

But the pull will never go away. I have made my choice; I always knew it would come to this. It's time to leave my humanity where I stand.

I take a deep breath, focusing on the black runes that are ready to carve into my skin. I draw in Diavolo's power, using it to force myself to change into my True Form. I grit my teeth through the pain, focusing on the swirling air in front of me.

Once I'm fully changed, I walk with unsteady legs into the forcefield, ears filling with the sound of human screams. And as I stare at the Pit below me, I embrace the tendrils of darkness inside of me. I let it flow through me, my body prickling in excitement. I think about what I'm about to do.

And I smile.

#thank you to everyone who comments on my writing i love you #let me know if you want me to write anything specific #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me angst #like please i am begging for fic ideas rip in peace

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corruptedconfessions · 4 years

Note

You obvs don't have to boo but something along the lines of AOB Werewolf.. Alpha Aizawa in rut finding omega reader wounded~ "You taste even better than you smell"... "Shut up and take it". Ily <3

Ily2 bb <3

Day 2 of Monster a day content~~ This one is s p i c y

Tag List:

@writeiolite

@hqbbg

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

You were whimpering, cowering away from him as you tried to curl your wounded leg in on yourself, flinching and whimpering when all that did was shoot pain through your entire side. This was bad. This was really, really bad.

You had just been trying to get home after accidentally staying out too late, taking a short cut through the woods to try and get back before your heat started. You knew it had been one dumb decision after another, deciding to go over to a friends house despite being so close to your heat, being careless and losing track of the time until it was already past nightfall, still choosing to leave and try and run home even when you felt that familiar heat starting to bubble in your gut.

And look where it had got you, crumpled among the dirt and leaves on the forest floor, clutching your swollen and twisted ankle, unable to even stand up, let alone limp your way back home. If that wasn’t bad enough your phone had broken in the tumble down that had caused said twisted ankle, and already you could feel the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, slick pooling together between your thighs, soaking through your underwear.

You tried to look around, think of anyway to help yourself out of this mess, anything at all, but your mind was going fuzzy as your heat set in. There was little more you could do other than whimper and chirp fearfully into the silent forest, staring out into the darkness with wide frightened eyes.

A twig snapping behind you had you spinning round as best as you could, a soft frightened noise bubbling out of your throat as you watched a large hunched figure stumbled out of the woods, lips curled back into a snarl as he stepped towards you

“I could practically smell you from the other side of the forest…”

His voice was nothing more than a wrecked snarl, deep and vibrating, making your own throat throb in pain at the sound of his shredded vocal cords. His hunched form slowly made its way into the clearing, stepping out of the darkness and letting you see him fully.

He towered over you, easily over six feet even with him practically bent in half, hair (fur?) covered every part of his body that wasn’t covered by the thin pair of pants that already seemed to be straining against sculpted bulging thighs. Though it was the other bulge that was straining against the fabric that had you whining weakly in need, baring you neck for him as you pitifully tried to spread your legs, yelping softly when you moved your injured leg again.

As he stalked closer to you his alpha scent washed over you, both soothing and stoking the heat burning under your skin, pulling another needy keen from your lips as you bared your neck to him, trembling weakly against the forest floor as he approached you. Sharp teeth brushed against your throat, scraping the skin and sending delightful little shivers through your body as he sniffed your neck before slowly dragging a wet lick right across your scent glad, pulling a high pitched desperate moan from you.

"You taste even better than you smell…"

You shivered, unconsciously pumping out more of your heat scent as that deep rumbling voice rolled through your body, leaving you quivering as slick dripped between your thighs. Keening again you gasped as a deep feral growl came from the man with his face still pressed flush against your vulnerable neck, feeling as his lips curled back against your neck to bare his teeth, a low snarl coming from him.

Within an instant you found yourself flipped over, crying out in pain as you were jostled, forced onto your knees as your head was shoved down into the dirt, ass pulled up high in the air. Mounting position. Your inner omega throbbed with need, another gush of slick adding to the mess pooling in your underwear even as you squealed, yelling and whimpering loudly in pain as you tried to kick out with your good leg, being rewarded with a large clawed hand grabbing the back of your head, shoving it down into the dirt as the other shredded away the clothing covering you, leaving you exposed, slick now freely pouring down your thighs as your ass was pushed up higher.

"Shut up and take it"

You tried to muffle your soft whimpers and cries of pain, the noises you couldn’t stop being absorbed by the dirt below you and your ragged breaths as you tried to breathe around the dirt flooding your senses, head spinning. Your cunt was throbbing, heat rolling off you even against the cold fall air, your thighs were shaking, ankle throbbing in pain, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on any of it as hot breath suddenly panted across your heat, leaving you twitching and clenching down on nothing, a loud desperate cry bubbling from your throat.

“Alpha!”

You shrieked, yelping into the dirt when sharp jaws snapped at you, narrowly missing your ass but close enough for you to yelp, trying to scramble forward despite the inhumanly strong hold pinning you down. Whining into the dirt you forced yourself to quiet down again as the wolf draped himself over you, finally letting go of your head just for his clawed hands to clutch your hips, sharp claws sinking into your soft flesh, dragging another pained whine from you.

Drool dripped onto the ground next to you as he thrust roughly against you, cock bumping against your ass with every thrust, catching on your hole just to miss. It took several tries, desperate pleading cries from you and frustrated snarls before he finally hit home, lubed with your slick he thrust all the way inside at once, basking in your pleasured squeal.

Immediately he started fucking you earnestly, hips slapping against yours as he fucked you hard and deep, barely giving you time to even breath as he pushed you into the dirt.

You were left gasping and crying out weakly your blunt nails scrabbling against the dirt fruitlessly as you were dragged back onto his cock over and over again, your ankle throbbing painfully as you were forced to stand on your toes to keep up. Every drag of his dick against your walls had your cunt fluttering, clenching down on him. The fear and pain pumping through cutting through the heat haze that had settled over your brain, but it didn’t stop your body from milking his cock like it was what you were made for, clenching down on him every time he pulled out, desperate to keep him inside.

Low feral snarls and grunts and your loud squeals and moans filled the quiet forest, the wet sounds of your cunt taking his cock seeming deafening to your own sensitive ears as he started fucking you harder faster, his growls getting louder as his rhythm stuttered. You found yourself gasping and whining too, heat pooling in your stomach despite the pain that throbbed through every inch of your body, if anything the pain almost seemed to make the pleasure feel all the more good. Even hurt and scared your body could only focus on one thing: Pups.

Which was exactly why you keened, crying out loudly when you felt his knot swelling at the base of his cock, pushing against your entrance with every thrust, threatening to push into you. Despite yourself you desperately rocked back against it, pushing yourself down harder on him as you whine and drooled for his cock like you were made for it. His claws sunk deeper into your hips, your blood dripping off of them and onto the forest floor but all you could focus on was his knot swelling…swelling…You whimpered up at him as he leaned closer over you, drool trickling down your neck as he opened his jaws, his sharp teeth resting over the back of your neck, resting over your mating spot. Just the idea had your stomach jumping, a soft pleading cry bubbling from your lips as he kept thrusting.

You screamed , arching back against the larger male as his knot finally popped into place, pressing right against your soft spot as he growled and grunted, practically frothing at the mouth around your neck as he jerked his hips, humping you desperately. You shook in his arms, gasping and moaning in pleasure as he rocked against your sweet spot, unable to hold back anymore.

The feeling was apparently mutual as not long after he was roaring loud against your neck, your ears ringing from the intensive of the sound as he pumped you full of his cum. You trembled, jerking back against him desperately as he pumped you full, chasing after your own orgasm just to have it ripped out of you as he sank his fangs into your neck. You screamed, tightening around him, cumming hard as you felt your bond snap into place, forcing you to fall limp, relying on him to hold you up as you whited out from the pleasure pumping through your veins.

You weren’t sure how long you were out but when you slowly came back to your senses you were lowered down onto the forest floor on your side, a warm tongue lapping at the back of your neck, cleaning the mating spot as he ground his cock up into you, basking as your cunt fluttered around his knot, squeezing down on it weakly.

You’re ankle ached worse than when you first hurt it, your neck hurt terribly, and you could feel the cuts still oozing blood from your hips, leaking out onto the forest floor. And yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were stuffed full of cum and warm, a mass of heat pressed up behind you, making you feel safe. Sure, he may still be trying to hump you right after the fact but what else could you expect from a werewolf right?

#yandere #werewolf #monstermonth #fantasyau #aizawa x reader #reader insert

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simpmeon · 4 years

Text

Red: Revenge

Pairing: Any Demon Brother x Gender Neutral MC, Diavolo x Gender Neutral MC

Genre: Angst/ Smut

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: R

Warnings: Cursing// SMUT W/ DIAVOLO (blood, choking, scratching, possessive) I put the smut in between red lines so those who do not wish to read the smut can do so with the implication that there was smut // Blood (in general) // Violence // Mentions of suicide // Hand/Wrist trauma

You let out a shuddered breath and wrapped your arms around your chest, your wings following, just how you rehearsed. You could feel the swell of your reveal, making your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You slowed your breathing, concentrating on the words that Diavolo was saying.

Back facing the curtains....slowly unfurl as the curtains rise....try not to kill that bastard on sight...announce your engagement....retire for the night as the co-ruler of Devildom with Diavolo wrapped up in your arms.

A/N: SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!! I wanted to type something super long to make up for it. This one is LOADED with angst so be careful guys! Thanks for all the love on the series and I hope you enjoy!

The Fall // Rebirth // Betrayal // Companions // Revenge

The time has come. All the other humans and angels lined up two by two in order from the newest down to the first. Barbatos was giving the instructions on how the introductions were going to go and how each one of them would be allowed to have time to say a few words about the program and how it effected their lives in the long run.

“It is important to express all opinions but try to keep them on the positive side and if you do have any complaints about the program you can talk to Diavolo privately on the matter.” He said with a calm smile, but you know there was an underlying threat to his words. All of them had their backs to you, but Solomon held back to keep sneaking glances at you.

Your part of the plan was simple. You and Diavolo rehearsed it a bunch of times after all. You were to wait until Barbatos got the rest of the exchange students out of the hallway and then you were to be escorted by another one of his servants to Diavolo’s chambers so you two could prepare the surprise. You fidget with the clothes and the ring around your neck as you waited as Barbatos concluded his instructions, the time seeming to never tick by. Finally, he leads them down the hallway with an outstretched palm and a calm smile. He trailed behind the rest of the students, glancing in your direction as if to cue you in to go to Diavolo’s chambers.

Your footsteps know the way by now, the heels of your shoes clicking against the cool stone of the castle. Of course, things would be easier to navigate if the castle itself wasn’t so dark. You knew where you were going, but the pathways also seemed to twist together at the same time. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been walking and where you were until you heard moaning coming around the corner of the hallway.

You could sense his presence. You knew he was there. His magic seemed to ooze out of the darkness, so you knew he must have been in his demon form. You heard the growls and the grunts followed by the sweet moans of his current favorite. The sound of his skin slapping against hers made tears of rage prickle at your eyes, only to be escalated by the dirty words that fell from his lips. He would call them his world, his everything, the stars in his sky as he mindlessly fucks them, each syllable being punctuated by a slap across their ass or the slap of his thighs against them. It became too much. You have nothing but control over your demon form, and even that was threatening to show its presence. You gripped the ring around your neck with such force that the ring bent around your fingers.

Calm down…he can’t see you like this. Not yet.

You ripped off the necklace in a fit of rage, your neck immediately feeling cold at the loss of its presence around your neck. You wanted to chuck the necklace at him and gouge his eyes out with your claws. You would have done just that if you didn’t feel a familiar hand on your shoulder, big and comforting. You looked up and saw your eyes met with the warm glow of Diavolo’s, softening as he looked at you. He looked down at you with a mix of anger and sorrow, although you knew the anger wasn’t directed at you. He has ears. He knows what lewd acts are going on around the corner. He knows who it is just as easily as you do, the anger starting to show itself in his grip on your shoulders. You gently wrapped your hand around his, linking your fingers together in one while your other hand crushed the ring into nothing more valuable than a tinfoil ball. The whole interaction was silent but you both knew that this was the end of your feelings for him.

You let the metal slip past your fingers, clinking against the stone almost silently. You knew he would hear it with his heightened hearing and you hoped that once he was done defiling his current lover that he would round the corner and see the ring on the floor and get the message loud and clear that you frankly didn’t give a shit about him anymore.

Diavolo linked his arm with yours as he silently led you back to his chambers to prepare for the big reveal, the anger seething in both of your stomachs.

The door barely clicked behind you before the two of you were on top of each other, shifting into your demon forms instantly. The sound of lustful growling as you wrapped your legs around his waist were all that could be heard in that vast space. The two of you immediately found each others mouths as both of you fought for dominance, Diavolo winning quite easily. You’re a demon now you don’t need to breathe, and the two of you stay like that for what felt like an eternity. Diavolo let out a feral sound before placing his lips against the flesh of your neck, his teeth leaving bite marks all over the flesh. You threw your head back in a moan, only egging him on. His eyes were glowing with lust as he locked eyes with you.

“Clothes. Off. Now.” Diavolo growled against your ears. It was like a trance the way you stripped off your clothes so quickly. Better than having them ripped off in the heat of the moment after all. Diavolo watched as you frevently took off the fancy garmets that donned your body, the urge to mark you up and claim you as his growing with each movement. The minute your chest is exposed he latches himself onto the bare skin, tongue tracing up and down your smooth skin, the wet trails meeting the cool Devildom air made you groan. He hadn’t even done anything significant to you yet, but he already had you moaning and groaning his name. His teeth bit at your nipple harshly, causing you to jolt at the sensation.

“D-Dia-aah!” You moan as he continued to scrape up your skin with his claws and teeth. You weren’t blind. You knew how much Diavolo wanted this and god did you want it too. Your own claws began tangling in his red hair, groans of pleasure and pain coming from Diavolo as your claws gripped him so hard that you were sure you were drawing blood, but all you could see were stars as his mouth moved down your chest and body.

With a low growl your back was met with the silk sheets of his bed, his mouth eagerly moving down to your netheregions. His tongue eagerly went to work, not even giving you a second to adjust to the sudden waves of pleasure that came crashing through your body. His tongue was masterful, almost spelling out how much he wanted this with each swipe.

Your claws scraped at his back and you could smell the blood dripping down his back, right between his wings. The sensation only egged him on, continuing to lick and suck at you until you were reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess. When he added his fingers to the mixture, you became unraveled.

“Did he make you feel this good?” Diavolo growled against you, the vibrations making you gasp. “Did he ever mark you like this?”

You felt the fangs on your inner thigh before you could even get a sound out that wasn’t a moan or groan. You were on the brink of screaming at this point, the familiar build up becoming stronger and stronger by each second. You let out a series of gasps and moans as Diavolo dug his claws into your thigh, the familiar feeling of blood trickling down the skin.

You couldn’t see his cock from this angle, but you could tell that he was about to cum just from pleasuring you. He detached his lips from you, making you growl in frustration. You were about to lunge at him, but he only gave you a lustful and sadistic look as he made his full height known, his cock erect as he positioned himself at the entrance of your body. His claws dug into your hips, pinning you to the silk sheets beneath you. The thin rivers ran down the rest of your bloodied body, a sight that made Diavolo shudder in arousal. He slowly brought his claws up to his lips and licked the blood from them, a feral growl leaving his lips. You just noticed the dried blood around his fangs from all the markings he did.

He gave you a look as if to ask if this was okay. Seeing your needy body grind against nothing, too drunk in lust to form words about how needy you were? God, you were addicting to him.

“Use your words you needly slut.” He purred, grinding his dick against your hole as he did so.

“P-Please!” You managed to scream out, hoarse from all the screaming you have done. Diavolo let out a roar and moved one hand to wrap around your throat, the other pinning you in place. The sudden asphyxiation cut out your scream of pleasure as he entered you, tears in your eyes as he thrusted against you with such a ferocity you were sure that if you were still human he would have killed you. He moved quickly, he had to as he was on a time crunch, the pace at which he was slamming against you was making you dizzy. The build up came back with a vengeance, and if Diavolo’s labored breathing and growls were any indicators, he was close too. His hand only got tighter and tighter around your throat, his claws sunk deeper and deeper into your hip. You couldn’t even focus on him anymore, all your body knew was the pleasure making waves through your body.

“You are mine now. You will take the t-throne. You will be mine forever. You will rule by my side.” He kept growling, almost like a mantra. Each word was punctuated by the sound of his skin slapping against yours. You couldn’t even nod your head in agreement, you were too busy trying to keep your body under control, but you and him were both close. With a ferocious roar from both you and Diavolo, you both buckled down as you both came down from your high.

Diavolo collapsed on top of you, his demon form long abandoned as his massive body just gave out. His hand detatched itself from your throat and although you were a demon and didn’t need air to survive, the feeling of the crisp air of Devildom crashing against your raw throat had you gasping, making Diavolo look up from where he made his pillow on your chest with concern.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked with worry. You almost could laugh at how fast his demeanor changes. He’s back to his old puppy dog self, full of nothing but love and adoration for you. You shook your head, lifting one of your hands to place on his cheek. He melted into your touch, kissing your palms and your wrist tenderly. This wasn’t the first time that you and Diavolo shared relations like this. Demon form was new, but the two of you together was not. You and Diavolo have always been friends with benefits, just more on the friend side than the benefit. He was the first person you had sex with in Devildom, way before you even considered the demon brothers as an option. He was gentle then, making sure you were okay and constantly asking if everything felt okay. You were just a fragile human then, nothing more than a mere taste of what you are now.

“No Dia, you could never hurt me. I’m sure the entire castle heard us though,.” You managed to say, rubbing circles into his cheek. He smiled a wonderful content smile, shifting upwards so he could kiss you softly. Both of you were out of your demon form by now, so your kisses and touches were softer and delicate, completely engulfed in the after glow of each other. He peppered your face in kisses, making you giggle underneath him.

“I made sure to charm the door and the room so that no one could enter and only… certain people could hear.” He said with a mischievous grin. Your eyes went wide and you don’t know if the sound that came out of you was a gasp or a laugh.

After all that happened just now he still can make you smile. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss you, silencing your giggles as you wrapped your arms around his neck. From this angle the golden light of the candles seemed to bounce off his head like a halo. The intricacy of the ceilings only highlighted that aspect. You could see the sweat dripping down his forehead and the warmth of his skin was comforting to you. You wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment and forget the outside world.

“Why Lord Diavolo, I didn’t think you were the jealous type.” You jested, kissing his nose playfully. His face turned serious with your words and for a second you wonder if you struck a nerve. He looked at you with his piercing amber eyes, his huge hands coming up to wrap your face in them.

“My love, you have no idea how jealous I really am. I would watch you two talk for hours, how your smile became brighter whenever he was around. I watched as his fingers would trace your skin and how you always melted into his touches as if they were meant to be for him….how your laugh would be more jovial with him than with anyone else…I wanted that. I wanted you. I wanted to be so in love with you that I would be the one to make you smile and laugh like that.” He whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “When I found out about how you came to us, I was livid. You were asleep of course, God knows you needed it, but I was so angry. I wanted to march up to the house and rip it apart and leave nothing behind of the monster that drove you to your death. I wanted to leave nothing behind, not even a piece of his hair behind in the rubble…Barbatos had to bind me in order to keep me in my place.”

“Dia…” You cooed, bringing your face up to his in a soft kiss. You had no idea he felt this way. Sure, before you and your past lover became a thing, you had a massive crush on the Demon Prince. The way his smile dazzled the room and how his dad jokes would add sparkle to any boring conversation. How he was one of your best friends in Devildom and how he always stuck and arm or leg or even wing out to make sure that you were happy in Devildom. Hearing him say that the entire time he felt jealous over how you and your lover were so close and how he wished that he was in his place warmed your heart. Maybe if you went with Diavolo instead of that stupid brother, you would have been more happy.

You would be alive.

“Y/n….” he started, breaking apart the kiss. Your eyes locked onto his as he took a deep breath in and out. “I love you.”

———————————————————————————————————–

You could feel the eyes on you even through the thick velvet curtains. Diavolo was on the other side talking about the exchange program and you could tell that he had captivated the entire audience. You could see the other exchange students out of the corner of your eye, them on the actual stage and you up near the ceilings. Diavolo was very insistent on you flying down because of how beautiful your wings were. He has said numerous times about how he wanted to run his hand through them for hours and hours, and you’re hoping to garner the same reaction from the boys.

You watched on from above as the other students were lined up, two by two. The order would be from the newest students to the oldest students and each person would give their speeches regarding how great the program is. You can already feel the way they were going to pour their hearts out to the demon bastard that broke your heart, and it infuriated you. You were already in your demon form, but today felt off. You were having more trouble than normal preventing the shift from demon form to your true form, which hasn’t happen since when you were first learning about your true form.

You could keep it in check for long periods of time now, but every now and then you would look down and see the spikes of armor or the claws on your nails become more horrific. Solomon would occasionally sneak worried glances to you, probably sensing that your control is being a bit off right now. Even without a pact from him, he still could pick up on every emotion you have.

Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic

The words were like a mantra to you. It was almost as if those words were the only thing keeping you glued to that spot and sane. You watched with a panic as they all individually left to go on stage and talk about the program and how the program benefitted them. What was wrong with you? You always had a great sense of control when it came to this stuff, why now?

You watched as Solomon left you with a panicked glance behind his shoulder and you can see the gears turning behind his eyes. He was nervous. Solomon was never nervous when it came to these types of things, so why was he nervous now? “Y/N?” A voice whispered.

You turned around and found Barbatos on the other end of the catwalk. You all but ran to him, careful not to make too much noise behind the velvet curtains. Crashing yourself into him, you didn’t even notice you were tearing up until you saw the stains on Barbatos’s jacket. Barbatos lifted his gloved hand gently, stroking your hair as you whimpered.

“B-Barbatos I ca-can’t control it. I’m trying to but its s-so hard.” You choked out, gripping your ever morphing claws around his jacket. You felt the butler sigh and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Y/N there is nothing to be afraid of, I promise you that. Diavolo and I have taken precautions if you get too unruly and we will never cause harm to you.” Barbatos whispered, his words slowing your heart rate down. “You and Diavolo may spar a lot but he would never intentionally hurt the person he is absolutely in love with.”

Love. That’s right the Demon Prince has fell in love with you. You remember the countless nights you would spend with him back when you were a student, whether it be you just helping him out with paperwork by the fire, setting up pranks for the demon brothers, or stealing kisses from each other in the dark…some time during those moments the prince had fallen in love. You wish you could have loved him from the begin. Maybe things would be different. Why did you have to fall for that brother? Why did you fall for his charming words and his gentle touches, when Diavolo’s touches made you feel more alive? Why were you so afraid at first? Was it because Diavolo was the prince and you simply lacked the confidence to be with him? Why did you not choose him before you had to die?

“Barbatos I’m scared. I know he’s in the front row. I can smell him from here…why was I foolish?! I could be alive if it wasn’t for him!” You tried to scream, but your voice never rose above a whisper. You could feel the tears falling faster and faster as you quietly sobbed, your true form becoming more and more known. Maybe you shouldn't try to fight it. Maybe if you let your true form reveal itself then you could tear everyone limb from limb that ever hurt you.

"Shhhhh...." Barbatos hushed, letting you sob into his chest. "Shall I tell Diavolo to make up a lie?"

"No...we both worked too hard for this reveal....I can't abandon him like that." You responded, gripping the fabric beneath your flickering fingertips. "I understand. In the mean time, please wipe your face. We can't have a dramatic reveal with tear stains on our cheeks now can we?" Barbatos says, producing a handkerchief form his pocket. You give him a small smile and he returns it. He straightens up the sleeves on your clothing and wipes at your tears and whatever smudged makeup you were wearing. "Now go out there and show the world the new you."

"Thanks Barbatos." You answered with a small laugh. Barbatos bowed and gave you one of his rare, genuine smiles before stepping to the door that enters to the crosswalk. Solomon must have summoned him whenever you weren’t looking. You flew off the top of the catwalk, your wings letting out a strong flap as you landed softly on the wooden floor. You let out a shuddered breath and wrapped your arms around your chest, your wings following, just how you rehearsed. You could feel the swell of your reveal, making your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You slowed your breathing, concentrating on the words that Diavolo was saying.

“We recently had a late arrival today regarding the students. Our other first year, descendent of Lilith, has decided to join us! They have made a very long journey to meet us and I present to you, Y/N!” Diavolo announced, the music swelling and the sounds of the wheels lifting the heavy curtains squeaking against the weight. You could see the light of the ballroom reflect on your crimson feathers, the sounds of the thundering applause matching your heartbeat. You slowly unfurled your wings and turned around, meeting the gazes of those who stared at you with awe and those you know who did not know what became of you were staring in horror.

You locked eyes with his and your heartbeat stopped. He looked at you with so much hurt...so much intense passion, you swore you saw tears prickling at the end of his eyes. His hand clamped over his mouth in a cheap attempt to cover the sob that left his mouth, the tears flowing freely now. His brothers around him were equally stunned at your demon form. You watched his whole world crumble around him and you felt...ecstasy. You could see the scene, but felt as if you were underwater. The way he jumped across the stage steps, his brothers trying to hold you back, Simeon and Luke looking as if they witnessed your descent all over again....Solomon trying to send protection spells your way...it all happened as if they were trapped in molasses. He broke from his brother’s grip and ran up to you, arms outstretched to you. You didn’t move, you didn’t even dare breathe as his fingers touched your cheeks and everything came to a screeching halt. You could hear the Simeon’s sobs and the brother’s comforting words spoken to him and Luke, while another cusses out Diavolo for keeping such a secret from you. The most prevalent noise though, was escaping from your ex lovers lips.

“Y/N!” He screamed, clawing at your form, “Y/N please! Answer me! Why are you here?! Why are you a DEMON?!”

It was too much. Your composure was cracking. You couldn’t even turn your body, you were just paralyzed. Then, something snapped in you. You started crying, but you were laughing at the same time.

“Baby-” He started, his hand reaching up to you again, but your hand met his in sickening snap. You could hear the bone crunch under the impact, your strength no match for his. He let out a pained hiss and the brothers you have come to love all looked at you with fear and shock.

“You fucking dare call me that...after four years of fucking misery?!” You shouted over all the noise, your voice starting to become distorted with the threat of your true form starting to show. “Do you want me to tell you in excruciating detail about how I died ___? I will be happy to tell you.”

Each word you emphasized, your grip got tighter and stronger. The brothers and Diavolo were on standby, waiting to see if you keep your composure or not.

“For four years I loved you. Four years I stayed loyal to you and just you. While I was staying loyal waiting for your one sentence a FUCKING MONTH ____ you decided you were going to be a fucking whore. You left me feeling so empty...so alone... I committed suicide because of the emptiness because I simply couldn’t fucking TAKE IT ANYMORE...AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE-” You screamed in his face, the tears falling off your cheeks as your skin started to heat up. “TO CALL ME THAT?!”

Your hand left his arm and was now tight against his throat. You could feel the composure slipping little by little, but when you looked into his eyes and saw nothing but fear in those eyes....you remember the last time those eyes held the fear that was in them now. The fingers wrapped around your own throat, your own bones broken, your own breath leaving you. You jumped back as if your hand was burned, your claws retreating as you looked around the room. No one was looking at you in awe anymore....no it was something stronger than that.

Fear.

Every eye was wide, everyone tensed ready to strike. Simeon’s angel form has appeared as he shielded Luke from a possible attack. The brother’s were all in demon form, but you knew they were ready to shift at any moment. Hell, even Barbatos and Diavolo shifted ready to strike if need be. Diavolo was the only one who could even take you down...

You looked down at your ex lover, cradling his arm in one hand, gasping for air. You were a monster. You became a monster. You hurt him. You hurt one of the only men you had ever loved... it was too much. Everything was too much.

You didn’t feel your legs move but they did, the crisp air filling your lungs as your wings carried you somewhere...anywhere but that ballroom. You hurt your past lover and embarrassed your current one. You hurt your friends...they were scared of you. Your true form was trying to shift again, the feelings becoming too much.

You’re a monster now...

“No!” You hissed, clawing at your other arm as it started to shift. You were your own weakness after all. Only you could take yourself down.

You could have killed him...you are truly a demon

“NO!” You screamed this time, clawing at your wings and tearing fistfuls of feathers out of them. You felt yourself crashing, the air whistling in your ears as you screamed. You watched as four figures saw you descent, the largest one speeding after you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hands clamped firmly around your ears to try to drown the noise out.

“I’M NOT A MONSTER!” You screamed as branches whipped against your skin. You heard a sickening crunch followed by the air being knocked out of your lungs as you slammed against the ground of Devildom, sticking you a few feet into the dirt. Your vision had spots and you struggled to keep your eyes open. You heard a voice yell after you...felt the sensation of being picked up gingerly and once again feeling the cool air whip across your face. You felt the tears sting against your cheeks, and fresh ones fall on top of your head. The last thing you saw was when you craned your head to look at who’s arms you were in and your heart skipped a beat.

Diavolo’s face met your own, laced with worry and panic as he held you close. You lifted your hand against his cheek and forced yourself to smile.

And then darkness.

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years

Note

I know I've already given you a request but this is stuck in my head. Could you do a Gyro x female vampire reader who is trying to go without feeding but just becomes weaker as a result and Gyro has to help her? Thank you and you're amazing!!!

Aah, thanks so much for the request and I am so sorry this took so long. I hope this will make up for it. I tried my best as I still need to get used to writing regularly but I sincerely hope you enjoy this!

Regaining Strength

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run

Gyro Zeppeli x Vampire!Fem!Reader

Summary: When the sun begins to raise the three travelers find themselves spending the upcoming day resting at a motel. However you quickly notice something isn’t right and it doesn’t take long before a certain Italian offers his help.

Notes: A bit of blood

The sun peaked over the vast horizon, bringing the rays of yet another morning with it and coating the area in a pleasant warm glow. This would mean yet another day of tiring riding for the majority of the racers of the Steel Ball Run, but not for a certain group of three.

The staff of the small motel looked at you and the two males rather curiously when you reserved a room to spend the day in, having been riding on horseback the entire night. Competitors occasionally traveled during the dark time of the day, however, none did this as consistently and often as you did. And the sole reason for this unusual time of travel was you.

Being a vampire provided a certain set of advantages but with those advantages came things that made life just a tad bit more difficult. Any exposure to sunlight could mean certain death for someone like you so the only way you could advance in the already dangerous race was doing so only when the sun set. Fortunately for you, you quickly found yourself in the company of Johnny and Gyro, the latter of which you had grown quite fond of during the Steel Ball Run.

After the curtains of the room you were to reside in had been closed and the young Joestar fell into a deep sleep on one of the beds, you found yourself looking around the quite charming space surrounding you, while secretly looking for any places from which the deadly sun could seep through. Gyro stood in front of the now-closed curtains and carefully peeked through, as he often did.

“Damn, the daytime looks so weird now. Who knew I’d get used to being awake at night so quickly,” he said while his emerald eyes scanned the sight of the morning before him. You looked at him while standing next to one of the empty beds and chuckled lightly. “Welcome to my world.” The Italian glanced at you and flashed a grin that slightly showed his golden teeth before turning back to the window.

“You sure you don’t wanna come take a look at this? The sun looks awfully pretty today,” he joked, knowing full well that his request would receive no action as you weren’t dumb enough to walk into certain death. Still, you played along.

“Oh, really? Well, perhaps I should-”

“When did you last eat?”

Suddenly, completely out of nowhere your legs gave out and you instinctively relied on the bed next to you for support. Your vision got strangely blurry and everything around you seemed to spin and distort in all kinds of ways. Having heard your sentence cut short as well as the small groan that left your mouth, Gyro quickly turned around, his previous joking attitude disappearing entirely.

“(Name)? Everything alright?” He swiftly approached you and helped you on your feet once more, however the strange dizziness was still very much apparent. “Y-yeah... I just... Felt dizzy all of a sudden...” Your hands held onto him for support while your mind tried to go through the possible causes for this sudden sensation. You were just about to realize what made you feel this sick, but Gyro seemed to reach a conclusion faster.

His question immediately caused you to look up at him and you began thinking back at the earlier events of the night. The distance you rode with your horses was a long one and Gyro made sure you were properly fed the entire time. However, for some reason, the feeling of hunger never hit you, or you had somehow managed to ignore it entirely. “Just before we started moving,” you say quietly, as you know that he realized just how many hours it had been.

Consuming blood was something you never enjoyed, yet you had to do it in order to stay alive. Starvation was already bad for a human, but when a vampire like you was in its clutches, things could get dangerous quickly. Gyro stayed quiet for a few seconds and you expected him to scold you for allowing yourself to go without food for such a long time, but instead, he let go of you and walked to the bed you had been next to, sitting down.

“Alright, you know the drill,” he said and began to remove his scarf that was loosely around his neck, the sight of which immediately made your eyes glow. “You know I’ll worry my ass off if you don’t eat.” His voice was unusually serious. Despite his playful and sometimes sarcastic personality, Gyro took you and anything you needed very seriously, to the point where he didn’t mind offering his blood in order to keep you strong. However, he also knew of your unwillingness to feed on human blood, let alone his.

“Gyro... You know I don’t want to. Besides, I feel just fine. Look,” You spun around a couple of times to try to convince him that you didn’t feel the previous dizziness anymore. But you couldn’t control the underlying desire to consume the delicious liquid flowing under the skin of his neck. Gyro looked at you, giving you a look that was not impressed by your convincing and you secretly knew he wasn’t going to let this one go.

“(Name), you know damn well I’m not gonna move or rest until you’ve been fed.” He said, still looking at you with eyes that were filled with determination and slight worry. He was stubborn about all of this, but it only because he cared. His gaze softened lightly. “I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head off.” The small hint of playfulness in his voice returned and admittedly eased your discomfort slightly. However, you were still reluctant.

“But... What if I drink too much?” Your thoughts immediately went back to the last time you had drunk his blood and just how overwhelming the feeling had been. It was always risky and the last thing you wanted was to hurt him. His brows frowned slightly, but his gorgeous emerald green eyes were still locked on your currently weakened form.

“You won’t.” This caused you to finally look at him. The amount of confidence his words had puzzled you, how could he be so sure? “Gyro, this isn’t a game. How could you possibly know-”

“Because I trust you.” The way he spoke stuck to you like tar, his words reaching the very core of your being. He knew the risks, but was still willing to help you in any way he could, from traveling at night just so he could have you near him, to offering you his very own blood that you needed now more than ever. You accepted defeat with a sigh and made your way to him. It was not merely because his words and trust in a creature of the night had such an effect on you, it was also because the unbearable lust for blood seemed to partially be controlling your movements, your nose picking up the scent of the liquid under his skin.

You swallowed nervously as you sat next to him, the sound of his blood flowing in his veins echoing in your ears. “Just... Please tell me if it gets too intense,” you said, voice barely audible. “Sure thing, cara.” You barely caught the reassuring grin he flashed you as your eyes were already staring at the spot you desperately wanted to sink your fangs into. With slow movements, you lowered yourself to his neck and could hear his heart beating rapidly, despite his calm demeanor from the outside. It calmed you in a way.

With a small sniff you took in the captivating scent of his blood and after placing a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his neck, you pierced the delicate flesh with your fangs and immediately felt him flinch. You held onto him and as soon as the warm liquid hit the sensitive sensors on your tongue, something snapped within you, and that overwhelming lust you experienced last time you did this only seemed to grow. With every gulp, you regained your strength, and the more you consumed, the more addicting it became

It was unreal. Your claws gripped onto the material of his shirt and the desire to feel stronger kept your fangs in his neck even after you had devoured enough. You couldn’t stop. You wanted more. You needed more. All the surrounding sounds were overpowered by your own inner voices demanding more of that heavenly blood of his. It was intense, and Gyro could feel it too.

“W-woah... Hey, listen, (Name),” he said, his voice becoming much quieter and raspier. He felt his blood being drained from him and as your lust grew and your grip on him tightened, he knew it was time to stop. “I... I think you’ve had enough...” He gently grabbed your shoulders, which fortunately seemed to bring you back to reality as almost immediately, he could no longer feel your fangs digging into his skin.

Your (E/C) eyes looked up at him, worry sparkling in them. You were so quick to check up on him, you didn’t even notice the blood dripping from the corners of your mouth. “Are you okay?” You simply asked, feeling stronger than before, but worried about his condition. As a response, he merely chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. And you seem to be as well.” He said and looked at you, noting just how much better and healthier you looked. A sigh of relief escapes your lips and after you wipe the remaining liquid from your lips, you gently bring them to his cheek, as a sign of gratitude.

“Thank you.”

Gyro grinned at your action and immediately threw his arm around you. “Anything for you. Oh, and thank you for not killing me.” He joked once again, which made you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Of course, dear. If you died who would be my personal blood bag?”

The fact that he seemingly took this lightly was unbelievable to you, but then again, Gyro Zeppeli was one of a kind and you were fortunate to have him by your side.

#jjba #jojo #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Steel Ball Run #gyro #gyro zeppeli #jjba gyro #jojo gyro #gyro x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #reader insert

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porphyriosao3 · 3 years

Text

Failed Alliance

Hooves rang out from beneath the walking corpse of a dead horse as it crossed the stone bridge before the main gates of Erebor-that-was. The iron-crowned Mouth of Sauron rode, followed by twenty elite uruk mounted on wargs, the banner of the Red Eye flapping from a lance in the icy wind. Only the cawing of crows disturbed the stillness. He moved forward, ignoring the shifting glances and uncomfortable murmurs that came from the orcs behind him. In all his centuries of life and unlife, the Numenorean sorcerer could not remember seeing a place so utterly desolate.

"O tremendous Smaug, ruin of the dwarves," called out the Mouth of Sauron in a stentorian voice, "come forth and treat with one who has known and honored your kind greatly in times now past." There was no sound. Even the crows had stopped. There was an eerie sense of being watched, but there was no movement behind the gate. A hint of steam emerged from the top of the gate, but blew away in the inconstant breeze. Moments passed, then minutes, and one of the orcs sniggered before a glance and a gesture from the sorcerer made him claw at his throat for a moment.

"O mightiest of wyrms, Smaug the Golden, come forth and hear my words, at least in token of your kind's service of old." More silence. Finally, there was a sound of scraping and movement, an enormous shape more sensed than seen in the cavernous darkness within the gates.

The massive dragon spoke from the gloom. "Little wretched thing, who are you and why have you come to trouble me?"

"I myself am unimportant," the Mouth simpered, "save that I come bearing the words of my lord Sauron the Great. He seeks your friendship, and in time should it prove fruitful, your allegiance. He has sent me with tokens...." The Mouth of Sauron smiled, fangs bared, as he sat upon his undead steed. His iron mask was expressionless but the ceaselessly working lips and tongue gave the impression of constant pain.

"Ha!" Smaug crawled forward a bit, enormous head looming out of the shadows over the tiny party of sorcerer and orcs. The wargs screamed and wished to flee, and the orcs were hard pressed to restrain them. "The Great, is it? The Great! Where is this greatness, little thing? You come before me with no gifts..." a deep sniff of air through gaping nostrils, "Only meat. Your master was a servant to One greater than he, and never master of my kind. You yourself are but the servant of a servant, a little ragged remnant of a fallen kingdom, kept alive through blood and trickery. You are not worth my time." A scraping sound came from the darkness, a vast scaly bulk shifting within the dark halls.

"Oh magnificent wyrm," the Mouth said, licking his lips, "you should not be so quick to dismiss the offer of friendship from one so mighty, be he ever so far away. He was once a servant of One greater, yes, but my master was less then, and that was long ago. But now, his splendor is incomparable, his hand is irresistible, his power can reach..."

"Faugh!" A blast of flame came from deep within the hall, painting the stones above the party with soot. The wargs were shivering and cowering, and the orcs looked as though they wished to do likewise. Only the fear of the Mouth himself and his master restrained them. "His splendor! His power! I have heard of his kingdom in the South, oh yes..." More scraping, and the huge, batlike wings loomed out of the darkness, along with the forelegs. The eyes of the dragon's head shone like lamps, full of malice. "A wretched, burnt place, full of nothing but scurrying maggots like these who are with you. There are no riches there, there is no gold." At the word gold, the dragon's voice sank into a keening whisper. "Yet you think to call me by the old allegiance my kind swore to the Iron Hammer? Bridle me like a horse, to serve at your convenience? HA!" Another burst of fire emerged. One of the orcs panicked and fled, but a gout of flame turned him and his warg to smoking char before he had gotten twenty yards. The others cowered down, whimpering. "Your master could not lift the Hammer, let alone wield it. Glaurung All-Father served, and served willingly. He was slain. Ancalagon acted on the wishes of the Hammer, and was slain. Are these names you know?" The sorcerer gave an impatient nod and opened his mouth to speak, but Smaug continued, "Perhaps a younger, hungrier wyrm would be swayed by your honey-poison words. Perhaps. But I am old, and mighty, and I have all the treasure I desire. In honor of the service my fathers and your master once shared, I will allow you to depart in peace. But go quickly, my patience is not infinite."

The Mouth realized that his mission was at an end. Before he left, he had one last thing to try. "I was bidden by my master to show you this," and with his left hand held up a giant scale, black and burnished. Another deep sniff of air from the gaping nostrils above. "And this," and in the other hand he held a crystalline statue of a dragon head, glowing smokily with an inner red light. Smaug's enormous head dipped, focusing on the statue. He seemed almost hypnotized by it, and the sorcerer smirked in seeming triumph. "So these tokens are known to you?" He reeled back at Smaug's thunderous laughter.

"The scale of Ancalagon, polluted by ages of sorcery? A shiny trinket designed to control the wyrmlings? These are what you brought? These are what this 'Great' lord of yours thought would sway me? ME?" Flames poured down, and orcs died. Within seconds the Mouth of Sauron was left alone, standing before the dragon in the smoldering remains of his war party. His magics protected him from the worst of the fire, but he realized that he had badly miscalculated the strength of the dragon's flame. Even his robes were smoldering, and the iron helmet nailed to his flesh was scorchingly hot. "Go away, little filthmonger. Your lord is too weak to bind the servants of the Hammer of Old to his will. One of Gothmog's lieutenants yet walks, and he cares not for your lord. Others there are, scattered maybe, but going their own way, not in service. Word of your lord's misfortunes has reached me even here. Lost his body, lost his ring... and if he is not exceeding careful, lost his pet diplomat as well. Your audience is at an end. Flee, fool."

Giving a short bow, the sorcerer snarled and wheeled his skeletal horse around, galloping madly across the broken bridge to the sound of grinding laughter behind him. Without an escort, it was going to be a long ride back to the Black Gate through the wilds, and he dreaded recounting this conversation under the Eye. Sauron would not be pleased at this day's work. A thrush, unseen in the shadows above the gate, winged away to seek the counsel of his elders. Word must be sent to Radagast; he would know best what to do.

#smaug mouthofsauron badideas lotr-AU whatif

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babythingcoffee-blog · 3 years

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Birds of a Feather: Prologue | Like a Lead Balloon

Read on Ao3, Wattpad and Patreon! Or - Keep reading!

Right from the center of the Eden garden moved a snake. His shiny black scales reflecting the sunlight onto every leaf and petal he came across while passing through. The snake had just changed a course of events that would put in motion the whole of human history, but his own most significant encounter had yet to happen.

Not only had his lot asked him to "go up there and make some trouble", but he also had a much more prominent task to fulfill. Being the snake of Eden didn't mean THAT much back then, but it sure would in the near and distant future, the eternal Demon Crawly, cast out of Heaven and set on Earth by Hell to both bring down souls but most importantly, to destroy any form of angel to roam near him. Now, he didn't know what had happened to Heaven, how many of its soldiers would come down and how strong they were but Hell had been clear on that. Destroy the forces of the opposition, at any cost.

The wiley serpent came across a hole in the wall as he slithered, someone had made it up recently. Adam perhaps, in a desperate attempt at escaping Her fury. As soon as he turned away from it he had to hide between bushes as quickly as his slithering body allowed him. Behind a few trees, an angel with white curly hair and a white gown was seemingly pacing around nervously for some reason.

Bare feet idly tread across the barren dirt a mere few feet ahead of the prying eyes. A disgruntled yet anxious angel seeming distant and unaffected by the world around him. Ignoring the distant cry of birds, or the growing hammer of thunder rolling in from off the horizon.

How could such a thing have happened? Under HIS guard? A Principality - guardian of the Eastern Gate. His only instructions to keep such dastardly fiends out of the garden. Even having received a flaming sword from the almighty Herself - one that still hummed and glowed within his hands. Illuminating the dew upon the leaves surrounding him.

Now Eve was already due and the garden was no longer safe for her nor Adam. For both of their sake, they would have to leave and venture out into the unknown. With beasts and creatures at every waking corner.

A rustling from the nearby bushes finally seemed to snap the angel out of his internal quarrel, causing him to snap his head up and peer up over the growing foliage. Of course, all there was to expect was none other than Adam and Eve themselves and the angel couldn't help but feel their stomach churn with guilt and dismay at the sight. The couple shrouded towards the quite obvious break in the wall, just barely large enough to fit through. The angel soon stepped forward, their grip on the sword growing tighter and tighter the closer they got to the couple who peered upwards. Clearly afraid they were either going to be stopped or reprimanded by the guardian.

"Here you are-" The angel suddenly blurted out, immediately outstretching his arm towards the couple.

Adam - the first of mankind appeared hesitant at first and even shied away from the threatening weapon. However, upon realizing the ethereal being’s intent, carefully took it into their own hands.

"Flaming sword. Should keep you safe - no need to thank me." The angel blurted out all at once, nerves rising.

Oh Lord, what was he thinking? Giving away such a thing? A weapon made for him and him specifically to keep up with his task - a task he had clearly failed miserably. Now what? He was just going to give it away? While a demon still lurked in the garden?

"And please... don't let the sun go down on you here."

Once more the couple hesitated, Eve, spared a glance towards her partner who seemed evermore perplexed by the sword. By the time his gaze lifted, the angel did no more than gesture back towards the hole. Urging them onward and outward, fearing what may happen if they stayed but a moment longer.

The serpent stared incredulously at the scene. Did an almighty angel just give out a flaming sword to humans just… because?! Angels weren't like that the last time he had checked and even so... He shook his head. Admiration? For an angel? Ridiculous. But now, looking at it from the right perspective… An angel had just given away his most powerful weapon. Yes, this was the perfect chance. He watched as Adam and Eve quickly left the garden and slithered silently behind a tree trunk. He took one last look at the angel before turning into the new corporation Hell had given him. He was very aware that the Principality, which he didn't yet know was his title, could have heard him but it was not the time to back down. 'C'mon you can do this, you can do this' he thought to himself, he hadn't spoken anything to anyone aside from his slytherin whispers but he did know how to, and he sure did know the angel could too. Was he even gonna share words with him before entering a fight? His inner thoughts and his breath were overwhelming him so much he wouldn't have noticed Aziraphale getting closer anyway.

The Principality could only watch as the couple slowly but surely made their way through the desert- finally leaving the safety of the garden and into a whole new and otherwise unexplored world. It was quite dreadful that such an act had to occur, he merely hoped that he had done the right thing and that both parents and their unborn child would be safe.

The angel couldn't help but allow his eyes to close, if but for a moment as a rush of wind swept past them. Feeling the phantom heart in their chest rap hurriedly against his chest. Knowing he would be reprimanded for sure.

However, his thoughts were put on hold by a sound coming from the bushes once more. Seemingly from behind him. As much as he would love more for it to merely be an animal or critter coming to wish the couple farewell, recent circumstances seemed to indicate otherwise.

Hesitantly, the Principality turned back towards the forest. Eyeing the foliage for anything odd or out of place, steadying his stance in case that fiend decided to follow the couple. That was certainly something he could not allow.

Yet without his flaming sword... Well, he wasn't useless per se but... My, my it certainly would have helped. Instead, the Principality opted for a fallen tree branch laying idly near the wall. Most certainly wasn't as good as a sword, but the pointed end would at least make quick work discorperating what may be lurking in the bushes.

Light on his feet, the angel travelled onward. Carefully and steadily inching further and further from the wall until he came upon a rather peculiar sight, to say the least.

Facing away from him seemed to be a figure, shrouded in the darkest robes he had ever seen yet with hair as bright and unyielding as the bundle of roses the angel had come across just the other day. Their hair was extraordinarily long and appeared to curl perfectly between a pair of inky black wings. As dark and frightful as the night sky. A demon no-less.

Immediately the angel’s heart leapt into his throat, a sudden rush of hopelessness and worry clouding his vision if but for a moment. Fearful of what this creature might hold. Fearful of encountering it, but he was a Principality. A soldier. He was the only defence between the garden and imposing demons. He could not be afraid. Not even for a moment.

Instead of fleeing, the angel found courage and approached once more until he was just on the opposite side of the tree trunk. His opponent mere feet away from him. In but an instant, the Principality reached forward and grabbed a lock of the creature's hair- forcing their head to rest back onto the top of the tree trunk. Only a moment later did the broken branch find its place just beneath the fiend's Adam's apple. The spikes on the makeshift weapon ready to piece their flesh within a moment's notice.

The demon was taken by surprise at the sudden grip on his hair and spikes pointed at his throat, he gasped, his heart starting to race. 'No-no-no. How did I get myself defeated already?!'

But oh. This was quite different indeed. Among the angels, no one appeared to have hair as long as the serpents. Most opting for shorter hair after the war but... What was most surprising was just how normal they appeared. Having a similar human corporation. And here the Principality was, having expected something matted and beastly and altogether too far gone to be considered heavenly. And yet? He could have easily mistaken him for an angel - if not for the darkened wings and pungent scent of sulphur waving off of them.

"It's certainly no flaming sword but it shall hurt no less once I discorporate you. State your purpose, demon."

Of course, being no flaming sword nor holy water it wouldn't have killed him for the strict sense of the word, but still, being discorporated was highly inconvenient and laughed upon by other demons. Especially considering it to be so soon.

But with big surprise, the angel didn't discorporate him right away and he even asked him a question..? Maybe it wasn't too late, he could have played it in his favour, he only had to hope he was malleable.

He gulped once more, his Adam's apple struggling under the branch.

"There's no need for such violence, is there..?" He managed to speak out his warmest and most fluent voice, despite his raspy overtone. Charming to say the least.

"I would gladly present myself if you came in sight, much harder to do when I'm only facing trees." His smug tone came out like an invite, a slight smirk running across his face.

Saying that the demon had caught the angel off guard would be a complete understatement. Of course, the angel had been prepared for a fight. For cruel and harsh words to be shared between them before the demon would show their true colours. Perhaps form claws or fangs or... have their hair suddenly turn into a bouquet of snakes? Whatever demons did, or however they looked outside of their corporation. Anything but this really.

"I beg your pardon?" Was all the Principality could think to ask, eyes flickering over the others' form.

A look of bewilderment crossed over the angel’s face in coordination with the demon’s inviting smirk. Eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing in reply.

Being so up close, the angel had to admit he was once again a little underwhelmed by the demon. Once more having expected some horrid and ugly creature, ready to rip his throat out at any given moment. But now? With the red-haired demon beneath him and with practically a splinter pressed against his neck, the angel seemed to be the only one of the two who was barbaric. Especially considering the demon had a much smaller frame to him.

The demon once again gulped, still feeling the pressure. Maybe this wasn't working, he had to think of something fast.

"Well, you… you've asked a question but I can't really think of how to reply when you're pointing a scary spooky branch at my throat and yanking on my hair. Would you mind getting in my field of vision?"

Despite, of course, wanting a clearer sight of the opponent to possibly strike at him, he couldn't deny to himself he was terribly curious to look at him. He had only seen him for a brief moment before having to hide back and curiously he didn't seem to be the kind of angel he had expected to guard the gate of Eden, not someone like Gabriel for a start. A lot less imperative you could say, but he still needed a closer look to be sure of that.

Oh now, this had to be a trick, certainly. Just as the angel had gotten the demon in such a vulnerable state, they were looking for a way to weasel their way out of it.

Though, the angel had to admit... The demon truly wasn't doing much to warrant such an aggressive introduction. Merely minding his own business it had seemed. Nonetheless, the Principality saw no harm in playing coy - if but for a moment.

A gentle sigh left the angel's lips as they slowly lifted the makeshift weapon off from the demon’s neck, seeing a thin red mark where the branch once lay. Following suit, they slowly and gently released the bundle of red hair from within their grasp, allowing the demon to move as they pleased.

Crawly finally let out a breath of relief, closing his eyes. He quickly regained himself and rubbed his neck, fixing his hair from the yank as well but not turning around. Just yet.

The angel watched intently at first, cocking his head and unfurrowing his brows as he watched the demon carefully tidy himself up. Fix up his hair and the suchlike from the angel’s assault, and quite like a fool - he let them.

As soon as Crawly moved his hand from his hair he quickly reached back to grab the angel by the collar of his gown and pulled him against the wall, eyes glowing and pointy fangs showing in a snarl.

Oh now, this - this is much more what Aziraphale was expecting. Serpentine eyes and fangs and the suchlike... But still. Wasn't quite as horrifying or demonic as the other angels had made out, but much more closer to the Principality’s expectations.

If he wasn't so caught up in adrenaline he would have felt his whole body shake furiously. The serpent of Eden had NEVER been so close to an angel since he had become a demon, and absolutely never touched one. He made sure the strong pull he gave him was enough to make him lose grip on the branch and now he was in control not only of him but of his life. Angels had many weapons against demons but without them, most of them weren't much of a fight, while demons… they only had one, and they only needed one. They controlled Hellfire and there was nothing an angel could do against it. But this demon, he had never killed an angel, he had never killed anything. And, he would have never admitted it, but at that moment he had no desire to do so. His gaze easily started to flutter around Azirpahale's facial features. He looked so damn soft to be a guardian, what was Heaven thinking?! 'Who is this guy supposed to scare now?' He thought, still pressing him fiercely against the wall.

While the angel was most certainly caught off guard, their facial expressions didn't overtly seem to hint as to whether the angel was enraged or frightened. Which - if the angel was being truthful - he didn't really feel either. He was just doing his job, that's all, and the demon his. And well, as the archangels said he was merely expendable. Many more soldiers where he came from and all that and now that Adam and Eve were gone he wasn't rightfully sure what purpose he had. Hardly a reason to be afraid or angered. At least he wouldn't have to do the paperwork.

The Guardian of the Eastern Gate could only open and close their shallow fist, having realized their only real means of defence had been dropped. Instead of wriggling or trying to shake the demon off, he merely complied and allowed himself to be pinned against the wall. The back of his head stinging a bit from the impact.

The angel's baby blue gaze slowly flickered over the redhead’s form once more, taking in much more detail now that they were face to face - and so close at that. Though it didn't take much before the angel met those golden eyes, his brows furrowed in confusion once more.

"Are you quite sure you're a demon?" He suddenly asked.

"No offence - really. Awfully clever and frightful you are but... Erm..."

Crawly's eyes widened from confusion, the snarl slowly being replaced by a slightly open frown that had no words to spread. His hands trembled in the hold, his willingness to kill him fading more and more away as he kept looking at him, his lips now trembling a little as well. His white hair looked so pure, as was expected, but it gave him a calming feeling that he would have never imagined to feel in front of an angel. His eyes followed as well, getting him lost in his thoughts with that angelic yet completely oblivious expression. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Uh… I..." He only managed to blurt out a few sounds, not really much of a conversationalist, so he tried a bit harder.

"I'm… pretty sure I am. What… what do you mean?"

Why did he even want to know what some Principality thought about him?! Why did he even indulge so much instead of burning him down? It was probably a trick anyway. It had to be and yet…

"Mmnn. Well..." The angel trailed off, unable to deny the small heartache he felt in response to the demon’s reaction.

Surely it must have been a hurtful thing to ask, having been an angel once before. Though truthfully he hadn't expected this reaction either. Expecting such a creature to only be filled with anger and hellfire. Certainly not as... Well, human as this.

"As far as I've been told, demons are supposed to be quite hideous in fact. 'Unholy combination of man and beast' if I could recall being told... but..." The angel trailed off yet again.

The Principality could feel his wings flap helplessly against the wall, certainly not used to being pinned in such an uncomfortable position. Truly though, he had to admit he worried he had gotten the whole thing wrong. No trick, no lies. Just - overtly confused.

"...well. I'm sure you've seen your corporation. You don't exactly fit the description for hideous... Are all demons supposed to be as pretty as you? I'm quite worried I've been misinformed."

Crawly looked even more surprised, more shocked in fact. His cheeks felt as if they were burning at the angel's words, his heart racing, unable to process the situation. He knew that if he spoke another word he would have probably started stuttering. His nervousness shifted his embarrassment into a violent chuckle. He looked down and slowly let go of the robe as he kept chuckling.

"Oh, now I get it. You're completely out of your mind. That's why you gave the sword away and all that, you don't reason correctly. Heaven must have sent you down here because you weren't useful up there." The demon immediately regretted saying it all. That was awfully mean, unnecessary and evil but he did try to burn him down a few seconds before… so this was better, maybe.

That wasn't what he wanted to say, it really wasn't, but he had no other way to process the way Aziraphale was acting. He had just complimented him for Hell's sake, what was he supposed to answer or even think of that.

"I beg your pardon?" Aziraphale blurted out, quite taken aback by the demon's laughter and words. Having not expected such an adverse reaction at all.

At this, the angel couldn't help but scowl. Eyes narrowing as he pursed his lips once more. Very much not appreciating the reply, and especially not understanding what exactly was so funny.

"Lord, you sound quite like Gabriel." The Principality all but groaned under their breath.

"Now, see - see here you fiend. There are beasts and animals out there, it will be cold and dark soon - and she's expecting already! No thanks to you I presume. As though I were going to let them walk out of here without a means to defend themselves." The angel huffed, quite matter of factly.

"Put it to me to think a demon would have the common decency." They signed, hoping the couple had managed to put some distance between them and the garden. At least be able to hide from the fiend pinning them to the wall.

"And for your information - I'm of Principality. A soldier if you would, and I'm hardly the last either. Whether I'm discorperated or killed, you'll have to deal with another soon enough."

Crawly moved away from him a little, letting him go.

"Well then I can't let you be substituted by someone more competent can I?" He gave him a slight smirk and looked up at the wall, trusting he wouldn't turn upon him with the branch so quickly.

"I don't know about you but I'm definitely going to take a look at the two lovebirds out there." He started and without waiting for a reply, he flew up over the wall and landed gently on his feet, moving a portion of his hair behind his ear.

"Hm? Now hold on a minute-" the angel blurted out, clearly either not heard or ignored as the demon suddenly took to the skies.

He needed a moment to process the encounter, even if the Principality was following him up there again in a moment. He sighed out silently and moved his gaze to the outside desert as the couple encountered their first enemy.

"Oh- oh my."

At first, the Principality thought the darkened wings sickly. His stomach churning at the thought of pure white wings suddenly singeing and going dark... But - they hadn't appeared as awful up close. Once more seemingly painted like the night. Especially as the demon took to the skies, it was hard to deny how iridescent and breathtaking their wings were. Only thinking to relate them to that of a raven - but even then a Raven’s wings barely compared.

The Principality took a deep breath, holding their tongue as they watched the demon suddenly land on the top of the wall. Worrying he would catch sight of the couple and end up flying after them.

Thus, he outstretched his wings and took off as well. Following close behind the redhead and managing to make it to the top of the wall with a single flap of his wings. Only tucking them back in and close to his corporation to ensure he did not miss landing on the wall.

He landed alongside the demon, eyes fixated on him. Ensuring that he would not disappear from his sight. As soon as he landed and stepped forward, he opened his mouth, adamant on giving this demon a piece of his mind before a not-so-distant roar caught him by surprise.

Quickly, the angel turned his gaze around to find what the demon had been watching so adamantly. Adam - fighting a lion. Protecting his expecting partner. Immediately, the angel was transfixed. Worry lines sprouted across his face as he watched with the utmost intent, knowing he could do nothing but watch. Hopefully, the humans reigned victorious.

The angel's hands trembled slightly as he began fidgeting with his fingers in front of him. Gaze softening, no longer overly worried about the redhead at his side. The demon turned his sight to the angel and watched as he reacted to the scene.

"You're… worried. Is it about the fact that you gave away a holy weapon?" His tone seemed smug, but this time the smile on his face seemed of understanding more than making fun of him. He looked back at the battle waiting for an answer he very well knew wasn't sure to come. Of course, Aziraphale wasn't obligated to answer him and after a quick pause to see what the two out there would do, they would have probably gone back to fight each other.

A few spare moments passed by in silence as the two watched the battle unfold in front of them. The angel only seeming to snap from his thoughts once Adam made a devastating blow towards the lion, lashing forward with the flaming sword

They peeled their gaze away from the fight for only a moment, sparking a glance towards the demon in recognition before looking back over the wall.

"No... well, yes. I suppose." The angel started. Carefully picking at the skin around his nails.

"Of course I'm afraid I've done the wrong thing... but... what if it's not enough? For them I mean. It's an awfully dangerous world out there and who knows if they'll be able to defend themselves against everything this world has to offer? And for how long..?"

"Why do you care so much about them?" Crawly asked, turning his head again.

"Of course… task and all but… you know." He actually had no idea how to continue that sentence so he started another one.

"Anyway I don't… think you can actually do the wrong thing." He gazed back at the humans, walking off in the distance with the holy flaming sword in the man's hands. Such a blasphemous scene, it looked hilarious to the demon.

"Oh... I... well, thank you." The angel hesitantly muttered, feeling the tips of their ears and their cheeks flush a deep red.

The last thing Aziraphale had expected from a demon, let alone one that had him pinned up against the wall just a few moments ago, was a compliment. Nonetheless, the angel somehow found solace in his words. Finding himself relaxing if only a bit.

Although, it wasn't long before the humans had disappeared over the horizon. Disappearing from view just as thunder crackled ominously overhead. Causing the angel to jump slightly at the suddenness of it all, especially with the way the earth seemed to tremble beneath their feet.

"Admittedly, I suppose I care for all Her creations." He offered, shrugging at the enemy's question.

"But... even so. I've spent so long by their side. I... just can't stand the thought of them getting hurt. Let alone suffer from Her wrath. Though, I don't suppose you would understand, having tempted them in the first place... It's not quite something I feel I can explain."

Crawly stayed silent. That somehow made him feel bad, not a demon’s bad, just the emotion of feeling not right.

"They just told me to come up here and make some trouble." He said without looking at him and added in almost a whisper of tone.

"I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway." The demon scoffed.

"Why am I even justifying myself with you." He looked back at him.

"So, emotional angel, are we going to get back to our previous exchange?"

"Hm... I suppose we should now, shouldn't we?" The angel muttered, shuffling uncomfortably above the wall.

Truthfully, they weren't altogether particularly fond of the idea of battling with the demon at the moment. Considerably more interested in where the humans were going and what would become of them.

"And true. You no need to justify yourself to me. Nor I to you. We're hereditary enemies. Just... following orders is all."

Before the Principality could move an inch, however, they suddenly felt something cold and wet sprinkle onto their face. They winced slightly before glancing up at the darkened clouds, watching as more of the fragile raindrops began falling from the heavens. Growing in number and speed.

While water wasn't exactly a new invention - Aziraphale had gone to the presentation - they couldn't help but shoot a worried glance towards the serpent of Eden. It was, after all, the first-ever rainfall. Droplets of water just suddenly falling from the sky without much prompt. To an angel, after such an event they could only rightfully assume it to be holy water. That God Herself was crying with anger and sadness at what had befallen her creation.

And certainly, this wouldn't do. There was hardly enough to kill a demon as it were, but it would certainly be enough to hurt the redhead - especially on his place upon the wall alongside him. So instead, the angel did what he thought best.

The Guardian of the Eastern Gate carefully unfurled their wings and draped one over top of the demon. Sheltering them from what they assumed to be holy water falling from above.

"Perhaps... once the storm has passed. If it ever does. Not quite a battle to share amongst our peers if we're both sopping wet. It would be quite embarrassing I should say. We are not animals, after all. It just wouldn't be proper. For either of us." The angel protested, avoiding the demon's gaze as they peered back over the horizon.

Crawly had been hit by a few drops already, fortunately, it wasn't holy water, so it would be an understatement to say he was shocked to see the angel's wing shielding him from the rain. He took a moment to process the action as his cheeks warmed up a little bit. He listened to his words silently then, still without saying a word. He looked back at the horizon, moving closer to the angel to be fully shielded. The fact that it didn't hurt him didn't mean he wished to be soaking wet.

Similarly, Aziraphale couldn't help but feel his cheeks heat up once again as the demon shifted. Feeling their lingering presence inch closer and closer. Their arms brushing against each other every once in a while.

What an odd set of circumstances the pair had found themselves in... Watching the first rainfall on this brand new world. An angel and demon taking place on the wall of Eden, with the angel shielding the demon from the rain. Even the fact that one had not killed the other at first sight was odd enough in their case.

This was the first demon the angel had ever encountered... and possibly he was the first angel the demon had encountered. While he wasn't too sure about how things worked down below, upstairs the angels were given a clear order as to how to proceed if they ever came into contact with them. Discorporate them. Use holy water. They were the enemy after all. Even now, Aziraphale knew it was best. For them both. Though with his flaming sword gone, it would be easier said than done.

"What do they call you..?" The angel found himself asking, his blonde curls now completely soaked through and sticking to his forehead.

"Down there I mean. You all must have names..." He added, spinning the golden ring on his pinky.

The demon noticed the rain had soaked the angel wet and felt kind of weird to be shielded by someone who was taking all the rain for himself.

"Weren't we supposed to both not look like a total mess because, and I'm quoting, ‘we are not animals’?" He shot a slightly amused grin at him then slowly moved his thin index finger to move one of the angel's curls away from his forehead, up in between the rest of it which was soaking, his grin now more obvious.

"I'm Crawly." He said in a gentle and raspy tone.

With Crawly raising his hand towards Aziraphale, they couldn't help but flinch unexpectedly. Having expected to be hit or even flicked by the encroaching demon, quite taken aback to suddenly have a curl be tucked back and away from his vision.

Aziraphale glanced upwards as the demon retreated, as though he could see the now hidden curl. However, he simply turned back away, avoiding the demon’s serpentine gaze. Those yellow eyes seemingly looking into his very being, unable to help but feel exposed every time they made eye contact.

"Crawly..." The angel echoed, seemingly testing the name on his tongue.

Quite a tad on the nose, but no matter. A name was a name after all.

"Hmn. Yes, I suppose, but I can't very well shield myself from the rain. Not very flexible, I'm afraid." He finally answered, fluttering the still wing at his side to emphasize the inability to outstretch it over his own head.

"Besides, I merely meant it would be improper for us to be quarrelling in the mess and mud during such a storm. I'm quite sure I'll dry off soon enough. If this storm is to ever let up, that is. Would you have preferred I take my wing back?" He asked, folding his hands over his stomach as he only partially retracted his wing, almost like a tease or a threat to allow the demon to get as soaked as he. Crawly smiled a little at that. So there was a tiny bastard inside the guy.

"Well… it would be more in character." He agreed and let the angel move his wing away if he wished to.

"You know… I keep wondering if I did the right thing as well, by giving them knowledge of the two sides of things, you know. I could get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing." He chuckled slightly looking down a bit

"It would be funny… if I did the right thing and you did the bad one."

Despite the ever pouring rain, the angel merely returned his wing to its regular position. Opting to keep the demon shielded as the thunder began to slowly fade over the horizon, inching further and further away.

However, as Crawly began to speak, the angel couldn't help but glance over towards him. Only now noticing that when he looked too far to the left or right that a bit of white would appear in his sclera. Looking him over once more, more so with interest this time around considering his comments.

The angel couldn't help but chuckle a little at that, finding some solace in the fact that the demon was terrified of doing the RIGHT thing. It seemed silly at first glance, thinking that both the Guardian of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden had messed up their respective duties. However, it wasn't long before realization set in. Very quickly remembering what exactly happens to angels who disobey. Who end up doing the wrong thing.

"Oh - no." He quickly corrected himself, smile and laughter quickly fading as the angel seemed to grow anxious yet again.

"No, no, no it wouldn't be funny at all!" Aziraphale contradicted, pressing his lips together and looking away. Now a tad bit more on edge regarding his actions.

"I suppose not." Crawly sighed deeply then looked back at the angel.

"You should probably go and keep an eye on them. I would hate to see the product of my work go wasted." He slowly stretched his wing out, over the other's head, and moved his head closer to the angel's, blowing lightly at him, his breath hot but not as much as to burn, more cozy than anything. In an instant, Aziraphale was dry again.

"Oh-" The angel blurted out, quite a bit taken aback from the warmth. Instinctively shying away at first.

Truthfully, he at first expected hellfire to come from their maw. Engulfing him entirely and consuming him evermore, but instead, he merely found himself dry. The angel's cheeks heated, dusted over in a light pink once more although at this point in time he was fairly certain it was now due to the heat.

Aziraphale turned to look at Crawly, placing a gentle hand onto his cheek from the sudden warmth. Their curls more prominent now that the rain had been swept off of them. They took a moment to glance upwards, only now noticing that they had been shielded from the rain.

"Oh. Thank you... I suppose." Aziraphale muttered once more, still very much taken aback by the demon’s sudden kindness. Although, he felt as though he could more so equate it to watching an ocelot playing with their food before devouring them whole.

"Well. Um. Yes. Yes. That I should." They stuttered, stumbling over his words.

Another glance towards the skies showed that the sun was just beginning to peek its way through. The rain steadily became nothing but a light mist that blew among the wind.

Carefully, the angel took his wing back from up and over Crawly's head. Tenderly shaking off the water that had collected on it before tucking it back to his side, prompting Crawly to do the same.

"Well then... I... suppose I should be off." Excused the angel awkwardly, glancing off towards the sun that was beginning to set on the horizon.

"Don't want the happy couple to wander too far off to where I can't follow after all." He explained, hesitantly walking away from the demon and over to the edge of the wall.

For but a moment the angel turned back towards the redhead, lifting his chin slightly.

"I can't imagine the two shall travel far, and I’ll need to return to repair the damage done to the wall at some point or another. So Crawly, please... Try to stay out of trouble. Until I return at least." He teased, smiling faintly at the demon.

"My name is Aziraphale, by the way." He finally introduced, giving the demon one last glance over before allowing himself to slip off of the wall, opening his wings near the last moment to catch an upwards draft and head over the horizon to where the humans were last seen. The demon chuckled a little as he watched the angel go.

"Bastard." He declared softly and with a pairing soft grin.

He reached down from the wall, reentering the garden. If his suspicions turned out to be right, the garden had its days drawn. Of course, demons couldn't love, but whatever it was that Crawly felt for Eden, it sure seemed like it. Seeing it go forever would have been hard for him to swallow but it was not like he could tell anyone about his doubts, so he just took it as a chance to spend as much time in the garden as he could before the end of it.

There are few things certain in this world, but one of them had to be the way Crawly just knew they would meet again. As time went on and he, of course, had to leave the Garden as well to follow humanity rising, he couldn't help but to think that maybe they were linked somehow, maybe it was the fact that in most certainty, no angel had conversed with a demon-like they did, even after almost killing each other a few seconds prior. He couldn't explain to himself why he let the angel go, and he thought neither Aziraphale knew.

#fanfiction #good omens #Ineffable Husbands #good omens eden

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mryddinwilt · 4 years

Text

Like Ships In The Night (you keep passing me by)

Enchanted Forest AU-Princess Emma does a reverse Cinderella and meets a Captain in a tavern instead of a Prince at a ball. It should have been a one-time thing but fate had other plans and they just keep meeting.

It’s been almost 4 years but here is the thrilling conclusion... @spartanguard Happy very late birthday! It felt appropriate to finish this as a birthday gift but it took a little longer than expected!

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Chaos. The world was chaos. All around Killian his fellow monkeys flew, diving to attack the humans, dwarves, and fairies that were storming the castle. Screams and shouts reached him even from his place on top of the tower as those below prepared for the attack from above. All he could do was watch. Zelena had bid him to stay by her side and he was powerless to disobey. With her magic wrapped firmly around him he was merely her grotesque puppet.

“Don’t worry, my pretty, they are no match for us,” Zelena said.

Killian wasn’t worried, he was filled with hope. It had been months since he had become one of the Witch’s flying minions but he still remembered Emma’s promise that she would find him and defeat Zelena. Surely this was their salvation from the Wicked Witch. He searched for blonde hair below.

There was a flash of bright light and several monkeys dropped to the ground, stunned. Killian cried out in triumph as he finally spotted Emma.

“Silence!”

Killian’s mouth snapped shut but he still felt the triumph bubbling inside him.

“That spell is one of Glinda’s. The Savior has had training.” Venom dripped from every word. Another flash of magic and more monkeys fell. Zelena growled and mounted her broom. “She may have some battle magic but she is no match for me.”

Killian wished he could tell Zelena how wrong she was. That he too had made the mistake of underestimating Princess Emma and learned just how strong and capable she really was.

“Now you can make yourself useful. I will distract the Savior. When her attention is diverted you will capture her and bring her to the tower. Keep her occupied until I arrive.”

Killian snarled his displeasure but could do nothing but obey. Zelena smiled sharp and dangerous before letting out a laugh as she flew away. As he spread his wings and sprang into the air dread settled over him. He watched as Zelena dove toward Emma. Killian could hear nothing with the air rushing about his ears. Magic, white and green, flashed. There was a cry of anguish. Zelena laughed and, his strings pulled, Killian fell into a dive. As the ground rushed toward him, he prayed Emma would knock him out and then finish Zelena.

When he got closer he saw that Emma was standing over a large, injured, werewolf. Tears were in her eyes as she screamed her rage at Zelena. The Princess didn’t see him coming.

“Emma! Lookout!” Someone called, but it was too late. They collided, his legs wrapped around her torso, and he plucked her from the ground.

As he pulled up from the dive she thrashed in his grip. Terrified she would fall to the ground and not wanting to gouge her with his claws, he wrapped his arms around her.

She stilled.

“Killian?”

He shivered as her hand ran over his left arm caressing the place where a claw should be. His heart stuttered even as his wings beat steadily, taking them higher and higher. He wished he could fly them far away but he had his orders. He looped around the tower, slowing down for the landing. He unwrapped his legs and with the precision of practice settled them on the balcony. He folded his wings and released Emma.

She didn’t run screaming or attack him. She merely turned around and stared into his blood red eyes as if she could see the real him underneath the fur and fangs.

“Killian it is you isn’t it?”

He nodded.

She caught her breath and lifted her hand to his face. He flinched. How could she bear to touch him? Her hand fell away.

“I found you,” she said, like it was the answer to a question. “I’m sorry I took so long. You remember the legend of the witch in the woods? Her name was Glinda. I found her and she helped me master my magic. You were right. It’s just a tool. ”

He gave a low cry wishing he could tell her how brilliant she was and warn her that Zelena was coming. Slowly he raised his hand to her but when he saw the disgusting paw he dropped it.

Emma pretended not to notice. “Glinda told me there was a prophecy. That my magic is special and that it’s the only kind that can truly destroy the Wicked Witch. That’s why Zelena didn’t attack my kingdom, she was afraid of me. And now that I know how to use my magic I can defeat her and fix you.”

As if summoned a swirl of green smoke appeared behind Emma. The Princess whirled to face the Wicked Witch.

“Hold her,” Zelena said.

Killian obeyed.

Before Emma could understand what was happening Zelena grabbed Emma’s wrist and slapped a leather cuff on it. Killian knew immediately what it was, he had seen the Wicked Witch use it on her enemies. His heart fell as Emma raised her hands as if to blast Zelena with magic. Nothing happened.

Zelena cackled.

“Release her, my pretty.”

Killian let go of Emma and she stepped away. She stared in horror at her hands and then at him, betrayal on her face.

“What did you do?” Emma tried to pull off the bracelet.

“Just a little cursed jewelry. You can’t take it off. Bit hard to defeat me with no magic.”

“No.”

Killian’s heart broke at the whispered word.

“Oh yes, Savior. Don’t tell me you actually believed all of Glinda’s nonsense about prophecies? She had me convinced too, after all you did defeat Regina, but I’ve been watching you Princess and you are weak. Your power is nothing, nothing compared to me.” Zelena’s voice turned shrill.

“If it’s nothing then take this bracelet off and face me.”

“Oh I think not. First I have to go and kill all those peasants you brought with you.” Zelena stepped to Killian. He wanted to rip her heart out but could do nothing but stand there. Zelena smiled as if she knew his inner thoughts. “My pet here will make sure you watch.” She gave him an affectionate stroke on his head.

“Don’t touch him.” Emma snarled.

Zelena turned to Emma but continued to run her hands down to his neck. “Oh that’s right you have a thing for my little broken toy. They say you stood up to the Dark One for him but I didn’t believe it. Is he the reason you attacked the castle? Him? How could a one-handed pirate be worth this suicide mission?”

Killian snarled. Zelena truly didn’t understand. Emma and her army hadn’t come for him, they had come to destroy the Wicked Witch and even without Emma’s magic they were going to fight to their death. Even now he could hear the battle down below.

“I said don’t touch him,” Emma snarled.

Green fire sparked in Zelena’s hand. “You don’t give the orders here.”

Killian could feel the heat building beside him and then the green streaked toward Emma. Killian cried out as she dodged and landed on the floor. Fire grew again in Zelena’s hand and Killian knew this time she wouldn’t miss.

He couldn’t let it happen. Not Emma. He strained against the magical control, wanting to grab Zelena, rip her limb from limb. The puppet strings didn’t break but they stretched. As Zelena released the fire he threw his body in front of it.

Pain exploded in his chest, his scream mingled with Zelena’s cry of outrage. He fell to the ground and through the agony he smelled burnt hair and flesh. The world became a muddle as he stared up at the ceiling. He heard Emma say his name and Zelena’s cursed laugh.

Then Emma was hovering over him, tears in her eyes. He wanted to stroke her cheek and apologize for getting injured, for becoming Zelena’s puppet, and all the misunderstandings of their past. But trapped in a monkey body all he could do was look at her.

“No, no, no, Killian.” Emma pleaded. Her hand cupped his fur covered cheek and he closed his eyes. His memory conjured Emma when he first met her, a princess dressed as a bar wench. A woman that had captivated him completely and made him realize, for the first time since Milah, that he might be capable of loving again. He wished he hadn’t been scared of those feelings, hadn’t been so hurt by her initial lies, that he hadn’t doubled down on his revenge and then betrayed her. So many things he would have done differently but at least he had done something right in the end. All things considered this wasn’t a bad way to die.

Through the haze Killian felt Emma’s breath on his lips and then a different heat filled his body. Bright white light was everywhere, Killian waited for everything to go black but instead the light receded. The room came back into focus. He felt strangely light, though the pain was still there, narrowing his ability to comprehend what was happening. Emma’s face hovered over his, her eyes wide.

“Impossible!” Zelena screeched in the background. Emma’s hand came to his face and this time he noticed the leather bracelet. If only he could remove it for her.

His body obeyed his thought and his hand came round her wrist. He gasped when he saw that it wasn’t furry and clawed but a normal human hand. Killian couldn’t fathom how he had been changed but it didn’t matter he could free Emma now. He used his last ounce of strength to pull off the bracelet.

He saw Emma start to smile as his vision faded and blissful unconsciousness took him.

Killian awoke with a start, his hand going to his chest feeling for charred flesh but finding only smooth skin. Skin. He stared down in wonder, he was human again. Dressed in his usual black leather. The same clothes he had been wearing when he transformed. Even his hook had been restored, a comforting weight at the end of his left arm.

How?

The details were blurred and indistinct, the memory of pain wiping out any nuances after the fire hit him. Emma had been over him, smiling, there had been magic and… he reached but found nothing but a jumble of images and feelings.

The tower room was empty, no sign of Emma or Zelena, just smashed furniture testifying to a fight. A fight that he was sure Emma had won. Otherwise he would be dead.

Killian chuckled as the feeling of victory flooded him. Emma had defeated the Wicked Witch. But if she had won where was she now?

He got to his feet and staggered as he unconsciously tried to compensate for wings that were no longer there. He walked to the balcony and looked down. The courtyard was filled with the aftermath of the battle, the smoke of dying fires, wounded soldiers being tended, flashes of colors as fairies flew about, and cages filled with what looked like flying monkeys. Killian frowned. It was all over and they had apparently forgotten all about him.

He felt adrift, unsure of his bearings. What should he do now? He wanted to find Emma. Discover what had happened and see if she needed his help. A dreaded thought stole into his mind. What if she was injured? What if she was dying?

He spun from the balcony, determined to search the entire castle, to find her. He was halfway across the room when he noticed a dwarf in the doorway. It was the same one that had been his jailer in Emma’s castle.

“You’re awake,” the dwarf said flatly as he shifted his blood stained axe.

“Aye. Where is Emma?”

The dwarf glared at him. “Princess Emma is in a council meeting, busy cleaning up the mess that you got us into. She doesn’t have time for the likes of you, pirate.”

The relief Killian felt at knowing Emma was safe warred with frustration at his jailer. Emma still didn’t trust him.

“Am I a prisoner?” Killian asked.

“If you want to run away to your ship I would be happy to see the back of you but no stealing on your way out.”

Killian furrowed his brow. Back to his ship? Did Emma expect him to return to his ship? Perhaps he should be thinking about his crew or ransacking the castle but all he wanted was to see Emma. The need overshadowed everything else.

“Out of my way dwarf,” Killian commanded as he walked to the door.

“I knew it,” the dwarf said as Killian passed. But he wasn’t interested in what the dwarf thought he knew and continued to the stairs with long strides. He knew where the council room was.

Killian ignored the huffs and stamping of the dwarf as he followed him through the castle. On the way to the council room they passed the ballroom and Killian paused to look inside. Weary warriors were eating at long tables, sleeping in the corners, or chatting in low voices. It looked nothing like the glittering jewel of excess that Killian remembered. It seemed so long ago that the castle had belonged to Prince Walsh and Killian had come to steal the slippers. How shocked and angry he had been to discover the bar wench he couldn’t get out of his mind was a princess and engaged. He smiled remembering how even then he had thrown over his plans just for the chance to speak with her and had been willing to give up his own schemes when he realized Emma needed help. Of course she had pushed him away, kissed him, and left him unconscious in the garden but looking back he no longer blamed her. He only blamed himself for his later actions. Could Emma see past their history? He shook his head and continued on.

They were steps away from the council room when the dwarf realized where they were going.

“Hey nobody invited you to the council.” The dwarf picked up his speed to get in front of Killian.

Killian shot him a deadly smile. “An oversight I am sure.”

He increased his pace but Killian beat him to the door and pushed through with as much swagger as he could manage.

All eyes at the table turned to him but he was only interested in Emma. Surprise and relief flashed over her face and then she frowned and looked away. Before Killian could begin to understand her reaction and his own rushing heartbeat the King spoke.

“Your presence was not requested, pirate.”

Killian turned to the King and gave him a patronizing smile. “And yet here I am.”

The Queen laid a hand on her husband's arm. “We are happy to see you recovered, Captain. Please join us. Your personal knowledge of the Wicked Witch and her domain may prove helpful.”

Killian gave a half-bow and grinned his victory as he made his way to an empty seat. His eyes flicked to Emma but she seemed to be focused on a piece of paper in her hands.

Those at the table were vaguely familiar to him, dirty, tired versions of the people he had met at the last council meeting he had attended. Given that immediately after that meeting he had escaped the castle he couldn’t really fault them for their cold, dismissive manner.

“As I was saying.” Emma put down the paper. “Prince Walsh has not been found in the castle. I think it’s possible Zelena killed him when she took over his kingdom.”

There is a murmur around the table. Did they truly care that the double dealing prince was gone? The man had plotted against Emma, he had tried to trick her into marriage. Surely he deserved his punishment?

“Well that’s a problem.” The older lady beside Killian grumbled.

Killian couldn’t help but wonder if these council members were the same ones that had urged Emma to marry the prince in the first place. Perhaps they still wanted that? Killian shook his head.

“What pirate?” The King asked. “Do you know what happened to Prince Walsh?”

“Actually I do.” All eyes turned to Killian. “The same thing that happened to all Zelena’s enemies. He was turned into a flying monkey.”

Though Killian had never communicated with the other monkeys he had spent enough time with Zelena and heard her use names on several occasions. She had taken particular delight in taunting Walsh and telling him that he was no longer her favorite.

“All of them into flying monkeys?” The Queen asked.

Killian shrugged. “It gave her an army and removed her enemies all at once. Zelena particularly liked the control the spell afforded her.”

“How does the spell work exactly?” The Blue Fairy asked from her place to chairs down.

“I am no expert in magic. ” Killian said.

“Any information will help. How did it affect you?”

“Well, obviously, there is a physical transformation but your mind remains intact. You still reason and feel as a person but you have no free will. Zelena’s will is like a physical tether, you can’t help but obey. She might command a monkey to kill his own family and they wouldn’t be able to resist.”

Killian met Emma’s gaze and hoped she understood that he had been forced to capture her. That he would never wish to hurt her.

“That is horrible.” The Queen reached for her husband's hand. “All those innocent people.”

“Mother, we didn’t kill any of them.” Emma soothed.

“Only because you insisted we not harm them. If we hadn’t listened to you…”

Killian wondered what conversations they had about the monkeys. Had Emma guessed the monkeys were innocent or had she been worried about him getting killed in the battle? Had Emma explained about his transformation or told them anything about their time together in the woods? He had thought often of that night. Of Emma’s magic and her tending his wounds, of waking up with her body pressed to his and how he realized how much he had missed waking up with someone.

“It is a truly vile spell.” The Blue Fairy said. “But Princess Emma has already cured the Captain so there is hope I can learn how she did it and reproduce it.”

Attention shifted to Emma and Killian found himself leaning forward. How had she cured him? He couldn’t remember anything but light and warmth.

Emma looked down at the table. “I don’t think I can repeat what happened.”

Killian frowned. Had Emma used some dangerous magic? All magic came with a price what would she have to pay on his behalf?

“Now Princess I know much of your magic is instinct but if you could even describe what happened I believe that it would be helpful.”

Emma took a deep breath and her eyes flashed to Killian before jumping back to the fairy.

“Blue I have learned a lot in the last few months and I know more about magic than you think. So trust me, you can’t recreate it.

“But if you–”

Emma cut her off. “You need to be looking at counter curses.”

The Blue Fairy opened and then closed her mouth. She looked between Emma and Killian and seemed to come to some kind of realization and pressed her lips together.

“Oh. Emma.” The Queen’s exclamation drew Killian’s attention. The Queen reached for Emma’s hand. Emma’s face was turning red even as her father’s drained to white. Killian knew he had missed something but didn’t know what.

“Emma, what did you do?” Killian’s fear made the question came out more as an accusation.

Emma jumped to her feet and her chair rocked back. “I need some air.” She rushed from the room with all eyes following her. She didn’t look back. As the room erupted in murmurs Killian jumped to his feet and followed her. As far as he was concerned the meeting was over.

Emma wasn’t in the hallway and Killian wondered if she had used magic to whisk herself away. With a sigh he began his search. Guessing that Emma would want to avoid people he headed for the gardens. His mind whirled as he tried to push down the worry that whatever Emma had done with her magic was dangerous. Could it be reversed? He would gladly go back to being a monkey if it would spare Emma. His anxiety mounted until he found her standing in the very spot she had dosed him with poppy powder so long ago.

Her eyes were closed and she seemed lost in thought. Now that he had found her all his questions fled. She looked tired and he wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her worries not interrogate her. He took a step on the gravel and her eyes flew open. She didn’t seem pleased to see him.

“You recovered quickly. I thought you would be asleep for a day at least.”

“And miss all this fun?” He attempted a smirk.

“You have a strange idea of fun.”

Killian shrugged. “It’s important to find the silver lining in life.”

Emma snorted.

“Emma you gained control of your magic, you defeated the Wicked Witch, you saved me from spending my life as a simian. But you act as if you have lost.” He met her eyes and took a step closer as he gathered his courage. “I am grateful for the rescue. Though I don’t remember everything I know I wouldn’t be here without you. But, Emma, if the magic came at a high cost to you…”

“The cost? Killian I…” Emma shook her head “There was no cost, I made no bargains nor dabbled in any dark magic. Though perhaps that would have been easier than this mess.”

He frowned. “Then why–?”

“What do you want Killian?”

The question and the intensity in her voice caught him off guard. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“No. What do you want now that you are free?”

Killian cocked his head as he considered the question. He was free, freer than he had been for centuries. For so long revenge had been his cruel mistress, driving him to betray his own principles to strike at the Dark One. Until Emma had entered his life he hadn’t realized how far he had sunk under its control. Emma had shown him the cost of his villainy and that there was much more to life if only he was brave enough to change. The dwarf had assumed he would run off to his ship and sail away. Given their history, perhaps Emma thought the same. But Killian had no intention of leaving unless it was what Emma wanted. Certainly she could never care for him the way he cared for her but would she accept him in her life?

He searched her eyes but knew the only way to get an answer was to ask.

“You once said that if I stopped living in the past I could be a part of something.”

“I did and then you ran away.”

“I was trying to help, but point taken.” Killian took a deep breath. “This time I would like to stay and try to be a part of something. I know the King and others don’t much care for me but I have some first rate qualities that could be of real use to your kingdom.”

“You would give up buckling swash on the high seas? Be on the council and help with taxation and road building and treaties?” Emma seemed skeptical.

“Given my talents I hope you would give me more exciting duties but, yes. If you are amenable I would like to stay.”

“And that’s all you want a position in my kingdom?”

Her green eyes drew him closer and his heart beat wildly. He thought of the kiss they had shared in this spot, of all the kisses and almost kisses, of how she seemed to know the truth of him but hadn’t turned away. He wanted so much more than a seat on her council.

He stepped closer summoning what little swagger he could.

“Oh, aye, a position in your kingdom and a position in your heart.”

Emma’s mouth opened in surprise. He chuckled as he bent his head and kissed her. It was a soft, teasing thing then Emma took control and transformed it into something much more passionate.

When they pulled apart they touched foreheads and smiled.

“What?” She asked.

“Hmmm… I am just waiting for you to run away or incapacitate me.”

Emma laughed. “I guess it is my turn since you ran away last time.”

“Being turned into a flying monkey is hardly running away, love.”

She pulled back and reverently ran her fingers over his hairline and down his cheek. He smiled at her concern.

“I am sorry it took me so long. That she had you under her control for so long.”

“Emma, you mastered your magic in mere months. It’s a marvel you came as soon as you did. I am the one who is sorry.”

“For what?”

“For betraying you and stealing the urn. For running off and getting injured by flying monkeys because I didn’t trust you enough to share my plan.”

“Killian without all that, without your encouragement and even your transformation, I never would have learned how to use my magic. I would have always been afraid of it. I should be thanking you.”

Killian’s heart swelled at the praise but he couldn’t help but argue. “You saved me, Emma.” He whispered and he was talking about much more than the events of the last day.

“You saved me too.” She replied before kissing him again. This time it was soft and sweet and full of promise.

The kiss was interrupted by the loud clearing of a throat. Emma and Killian came apart. Killian let out a sigh and was composing a litany of curses for their intruder when he turned and realized it was Emma’s parents.

The King looked like he would happily murder him while the Queen smiled blissfully. Emma pulled out of his embrace to face her parents. Killian kept his hand at her hip and it wasn’t just to annoy the King.

“Mother, Father, Captain Jones has accepted the position of naval advisor.”

Killian snickered at her words and the false dignity she gave them.

The King rolled his eyes. “Naval advisor? Really?”

“David, now is not the time.” The Queen warned.

“Now is exactly the time. I will not have this pirate toying with our daughters affections.”

“Your daughter is right here and can make her own decisions.” Emma joined the argument.

“Emma,” the king's voice softened, “I love you. But after Neal and Walsh you deserve someone better.” He looked at Killian and frowned. “You deserve an equal partner that doesn’t have ulterior motives. That won’t abandon you or betray you.”

Killian bristled even as he agreed with the King's assessment. Emma deserved all that and more. He hoped he could be the one to give it to her. He locked eyes with the King.

“Listen, your Majesty, whatever Emma and I become is up to her but I would never betray or abandon her. I am in this for the long haul.” Killian pulled Emma closer.

“Honestly, David, you are being ridiculous.”

“What? I am just looking out for our daughter. There is no proof the pirate and Zelena aren’t working together to trick Emma into thinking he is her True Love.”

Killian frowned in confusion. “True what?”

Nobody answered him. Emma had stepped away to confront her father.

“No proof? Are you kidding me? Dad, you weren’t even there!” Emma’s hands seemed to spark with pent up magic as she gestured to Killian. “I was powerless. Zelena was going to kill me and everyone else. Killian was able to break through her control long enough to throw himself in front of a fireball.”

“That could have been faked, a trick to get you to believe him.” The King grumbled.

“He was dying! I didn’t kiss him to break his curse. I kissed him because I thought it would be the last time.”

Killian remembered the moment, the pain and looking into her desperate face wishing it wasn’t the end. She kissed him and it broke his curse. Realization dawned on him as Emma continued.

“When we kissed there was the flash and it felt just like you and Mom always said. Then he was human. I didn’t imagine or suspect that he… It was real. I know it.”

Killian knew more than most about the power of True Love’s Kiss. It had become a particular obsession of Rumplestilskin’s and so Killian had studied it. It was rare but could break any curse as true love was said to be the most powerful force in all the realms. Killian had been doubtful that such magic existed and had certainly thought it impossible he could share it with anyone after Milah’s death. But he had fallen in love again, though he had denied it, and even more wondrous she loved him back. Killian didn’t blame the King for being skeptical, Killian hardly believed it himself. His relationship with Emma had been unconventional to say the least but Killian would go through it all again if it led him to true love.

The King was struggling to answer his daughter's declaration as the Queen looked smug.

“Quite passionate, Emma.” Killian murmured.

She turned to him and caught his wide grin.

“What?”

“You kissed a monkey.” Killian knew he looked a fool with his smile but he couldn’t help it. Emma rolled her eyes.

“A disgusting monster with fangs.” He continued as he pulled her into his arms. “At least I know you don’t love me for my looks.”

“Can you be serious?” Emma said even as she returned his smile. Killian knew it was hardly the time with her parents looking on but he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I’m your True Love.” Killian tipped his head and bit his lip.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And she did.

#mryddinwilt wrote something #cs ff #captain swan ff #cs au ff #cs fanfic #like ships in the night #i can't not believe how it's been four years #I have been tinkering with this thing on and off #but some things really only crystalized in the last week #so I am actually glad I waited to write it

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callowed · 4 years

Note

☻☺♪★✄♈♓

Headcanons- Open

//Oh man this one got real long

☻: three things that make my muse sad

Failure. Every piece of Tyrian is built to kill. It’s what he’s good at, it’s what he loves. He took it to extremes, let it consume him. It’s all he is. His purpose in life is to be a weapon, he exists for the sole purpose to be used to harm others. So when he fails in his duties, he feels absolutely worthless. His only value, in his eyes, comes from his ability to hurt. You do not expect a knife to do anything but cut, and you expect it to cut well. If he fails to do the one thing he was put in this world to do, then..... what reason does he have to exist at all? A knife that can’t cut is nothing more than scrap metal, garbage.

Denial. He sees the little seeds of darkness inside of people. He likes to nurture them, to encourage them to indulge in their darker impulses. He’s a firm believer that happiness comes from being comfortable with yourself. Knowing what you enjoy, being honest with it, and pursuing it. To see people deny these parts of themselves feels like holding back. It feels like giving up, not letting yourself live your life to the fullest. To see the dull lives that people lead, the way they grit their teeth and simply allow things to continue at such a mediocre, dissatisfying pace... It saddens him. It’s as though these people are already dead.

Neglect. He knows he is not designed for being loved. Undeserving of tenderness. He wishes he could cut it all out, to just leave a monster behind that knows nothing but carnage and euphoria. He wishes it didn’t hurt so much to be ignored, when he knows a weapon lies forgotten until needed. He’s so sure that’s what he is, an instrument of destruction; so the feeling of longing, of wanting to be seen or held, feels like something he shouldn’t have. It feels like a mistake. And it makes the sadness he feels just that much worse, thinking that he shouldn’t be allowed to be sad about something like this.

☺: three things that make my muse happy

Bloodshed. Tyrian is a sadist in its purest, most concentrated form. Feeling flesh tear under his blades, the smell of a city on fire, the taste of blood, a symphony of screams, it’s ecstasy. It’s a thirst that drives him, controls him, and he sees no reason to stop it from doing so when succumbing to it feels so good.

Love. As confused of an understanding that he has of it, Tyrian is very driven by love. He serves Salem because he loves Her. He chose his place in life because he loves doing what he does. When Tyrian loves something, he gives every last piece of himself to it. He loves intensively, obsessively; he wants to drown himself in it. Let it consume his life.

Utility. This is what it means to be loved. To be used is to be needed. For the talents he can provide to have value to someone, for him to be considered an asset, is the closest approximation to love he allows himself. It’s what makes sense to him. He only knows how to break things, so the best he can hope for is to be seen as very good at breaking things.

♪: three songs that remind me of my muse

I have a whole playlist for him, but I’ll pick three of my favorites.

Ready to Die- Andrew WK For obvious reasons, but I like the juxtaposition of aggressive metal instruments playing a very upbeat tune about killing people.

2econd-2ight-2eer- Will Wood I only let myself pick one Will Wood song for this and this is my choice. “The devil made me do it, but I also kind of wanted to” is literally his entire character.

Last Caress- Misfits Violent and obscene, and addresses death like a person; calling it sweet and lovely and waiting for its embrace.

★: a wish my muse has

Sometimes, Tyrian wishes he could be more. More than just death, something a little more human. Something deeper, with pieces capable of loving. But he can’t. He can never move past it. He craves it, it’s not just a part of him... it’s all he is. Without it, there would be nothing left. And he loves it too much to want to let it go, to try to fight it when he knows he will inevitably fail and have the dark pull him in again.

Sometimes he wishes he could have something softer. But most of the time, he wishes he could just kill that softness. Carve it out of himself so that there’s no more doubt, no more feeling besides pain, nothing left of him but claws and fangs and barbs and knives.

✄: is my muse creative?

Yes, and in all the worst ways. When it comes to twisting people’s emotions against them, or causing as much widespread panic as possible, or simply imagining all the different ways to torture a person, very few people are creative as Tyrian. He’s very good at adapting, improvising a plan on the fly, and he’s far better at it than plotting up something beforehand. He’s the most creative person you’ll ever meet when it comes to bloody fantasies.

♈: the most daring thing your muse has ever done

He outdoes himself on this front constantly, but a few moments come to mind of him staring death right in the face and grinning.

Salem’s inner circle is the most informed on Her intentions, Her truth, but there are some others less important that She has twisted the arm of, manipulated, or otherwise blackmailed into acting as informants. The Grimm are Her eyes in the countryside, but these informants can be vital in providing information about more populated areas. Tyrian has had to meet with some before; sometimes for leads in his hunt for maidens or huntsmen, but at other times simply to scare them into obedience when Her Grace catches wind of their wavering loyalties.

It was one such time he found himself meeting in a seedy bar in Anima. Nearly all the dealings here were shady, and nobody’s hands were clean enough to bother batting an eye at any sort of questionable behavior, so long as they didn’t cause any property damage. He sat at the opposite end of a table with the informant in question- A human man, late thirties. Unspeakably plain-looking and unassuming. Perfect for gathering intel undetected. Or at least, he would be, if he were to dismount his high horse. Tyrian bit his tongue and refrained from tearing the man apart at his insolence, the sheer nonchalant disrespect the man showed his Goddess. He knew it came from a place of ignorance. If he truly knew what She was, he wouldn’t say such ridiculous things.

However, the man’s general lack of understanding of his situation was beginning to get on Tyrian’s nerves. He wanted compensation for his work. A reward.

“I don’t think you fully grasp your situation here, Cole Blackwell,” He spoke with a sharp tone, using the man’s full name to add weight to it as he leaned across the table slightly, staring him down. “Your reward is your continued existence. You are in a very poor position to ask for a prize. It is either your cooperation... or your life.” Tyrian’s eye’s bore into the spy, the glint of malice and bloodlust evident in them without him having to say a word. The fool continued to blunder.

“From where I’m sitting...” Cole kept his voice steady, although it was clearly an effort on his part. Tyrian noticed his arms shift under the table. “There’s a third option.” With that, he reached his hand out from below to reveal a gun, and pointed it in Tyrian’s direction. The faunus didn’t so much as flinch. It took everything in him not to break into a fit of cackles and draw attention to their little confrontation in their corner of the bar. A few restrained chuckles shook his shoulders despite his best efforts.

Tyrian leaned even further forward, licking his lips and pressing his forehead against the barrel of the gun, his crazed stare never once straying from the little rebel’s eyes.

“Then do it,” he hissed with a wide grin, “I’ll even drop my aura for you.” And sure enough, Tyrian drew a clawed finger across his face rough enough to leave a mark that noticeably did not heal. He pressed his head into the gun again, relishing in the way he man’s hand trembled slightly in a mixture of fear, confusion, and uncertainty. “You know a bullet in my brain won’t stop this.” Tyrian’s voice was low and dangerous as he stared the man in the eyes like he was daring him to blink first. “She knows where you live. Perhaps if your own life isn’t enough to convince you, we should see if you find theirs more valuable. Two girls, isn’t it? Holly and Ivy?” The color in Cole’s face drained at the mention of the names, his steely facade cracking into a picturesque depiction of absolute dread. Tyrian chuckled darkly. “My Fair Lady would be very displeased to lose me, and I wouldn’t be around to convince Her not to take from you whatever She deems fit as..... retribution.” The man’s hand trembled. Tyrian pulled away with a smirk, never breaking eye contact as he licked the barrel of the gun just to rub salt in the wound. The informant’s eyes were so beautiful as they were, filled to the brim with fear and disgust. He lowered the gun in defeat.

“I knew I could trust you to listen to reason, mister Blackwell~” Tyrian spoke cordially and cheerfully as if he hadn’t had a gun to his head mere seconds ago, as if he didn’t just threaten the man’s family.

“Get fucked,” The man spat, his voice dripping with disdain and reluctance. A sweet sound. “You’re sick.”

A high-pitched cackle was unavoidable at the comment, Tyrian no longer caring to hold it back. As he gathered himself again, he replied, “And you’re in over your head. I suppose we’re both beyond saving then.”

He stood up from his seat, leaning close to the shocked, broken man once more to speak lowly in his ear.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, as always, Cole Blackwell. I’ll see you soon~” his excitement was ominous, and he left the poor man alone to marinate in the darkness of his reality as he sauntered away. Sure, he didn’t have to drop his aura to make a point, he didn’t have to cut it so close. Grey’s finger could have slipped at any second, or perhaps he could have grown a spine and pulled the trigger on purpose. Tyrian simply kissed death because he wanted to. For the fun of it. It’s part of what made his job so ceaselessly entertaining, to be so close to death in so many different ways without letting it take him just yet, was a simple delight he relished in often.

♓: my muse’s biggest secret

I answered one on the previous ask, but as a bonus I will give you one that isn’t so much a huge secret as much as it is something that he would never, ever tell anyone. He hates people who grab or tug at his tail without permission, it’s incredibly rude and objectifying and reminds him too much of his time in the circus when he just had to sit and take it. However. He loves having it pulled near the base. He will never admit this, and anyone who grabs at his tail to find out is likely to get stung unless they are on the very short list of people allowed to do so.

#;take a hammer and fix the canon [headcanon]#//this one uhhh took a while lmao #bambino-muses

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