#Wouldn’t go ahead and knock up this woman that he really barely knows beyond some points

[crustyfloor]

yeah I’m just gonna decimate the concept of Aphmau and Aaron being lovers at all in my mcd rewrite.

#It’s just #they’re relationship felt so rushed to me #And so was their little hellspawn #Like you’d think a guy that’s lost his family #and his whole village #while being still very hung up over it #Wouldn’t go ahead and knock up this woman that he really barely knows beyond some points #Just to die and break her soul #idk just a thought #But yeah #also idrk if I wanna do the mcd rewrite or the mystreet #I might do the mcd first because mystreet is so technical I’d be hung up over it for years #Plus I have so many ideas for mcd #Yeah. That’s the plan #aphmau mcd #minecraft diaries aphmau

[littlesniggy]

Feather Coat

Here is yet another Doflamingo x fem! Reader and this is gonna be Part One of probably Two. 

Summary: You’re a servant at the Dressrosa palace and find a certain pink feather coat. 

Word count: 1.8k

Part Two

Being a servant at the Dressrosa palace wasn’t as bad as one might think. Sure, it was exhausting from time to time but the Donquixote family was surprisingly lenient with their servants – given you didn’t upset them. You’d do the cleaning, do the cooking and look good at the many parties the king threw. Beside that the family left you servants alone most of the time, especially Doflamingo didn’t see the need to interact with all of them more than necessary which was fine by you; he was more than intimidating.

It was one of the days where the king held one of his infamous parties. Unsurprisingly, you were serving drinks to the guests in a sexy bikini, watching the beautiful women who were invited swarming around the Donquixote family members. All of them were trying to get on good terms with them, maybe gaining something out of it for the future; after all, money and power was desired by most people.

Doflamingo was sitting on a huge sofa, surrounded by four beautiful women, giggling at every word he said. Was he actually telling something funny? Probably not. You were slowly walking over to the group, a tray with drinks in your hand. Doflamingo noticed you out of the corners of his eyes and looked at you with his huge trademark grin.

“There we go, finally more drinks.” He announced. You stopped in front of them, bowed a little and served the drinks. The tray was empty in an instant and before you turned around to serve the other guests you were already forgotten by the five people on the couch. You were more than happy by that. The more he you got ignored the easier your life was.

It was late at night and you were finishing up the cleaning of the palace. The guests made quite a mess and some expensive looking objects were laying all over the place, all shattered in little pieces. Beside you, four other servants were cleaning the throne room, chatting quietly with each other. You were friends with most of the other servants; when you lived together it was more or less inventible. All of you had your own small rooms but they were all right next to each other.

You listened in on the conversation of two of the other servants when you noticed something pink out of the corner of your eye. It was laying hidden behind a curtain and almost unnoticeable. Curiously, you walked over and realized it was the king’s feathery coat. Why was it on the floor? You picked it up and as you though it was incredibly heavy. How could feathers be so heavy? The others stopped their chattering when the saw you holding the huge piece of fabric in your hand.

“Why is the king’s coat here?” one of them asked and you shrugged. How would you know? It was strange that it was here but maybe it fell off when Doflamingo had left the party with one of the women, who knew? “What are we supposed to do with it?” “I don’t know. Should we bring it to him?” “At this time? And he’s probably with one of the women. I don’t wanna go to his room.” “Yeah, me neither.” You heard the other servants contemplating and you weren’t sure yourself what to do. Surely, you could just leave it on his thrown, right? He will eventually find it tomorrow, right?  

“Y/n, what do you think?” you looked up at the woman who spoke to you and the others were looking at you as well. “Can’t we just leave it on his throne?” you suggested but the others shook their heads.

“I heard that one servant once found one of his earrings and left it on his throne. The next morning, it was gone and she never to be seen again.” You listened to the story and raised an eyebrow. “But an earring is way easier to steal than this fucking huge coat. Eventually, someone will notice it. It’s not really what you’d call inconspicuous.” You said and made your way over to his throne.

“But what if it gets stolen? I don’t wanna take the blame!” one of them said and the others agreed. You sighed and turned around, holding the coat up at her. “If you insist on bringing it to him, go ahead.” You said, but the others moved away, shaking their heads yet again. “Hell, no! He’s scary! And I don’t wanna see him with another woman having sex of whatever they do. He’ll get mad!”

God, why were they like this? “So, what do you suggest we do?” you asked, obviously annoyed. “None of us wants to go to his room and four out of five don’t want to leave it here. Any solutions?” Silence. All eyes were on you and you knew what they wanted. And they wouldn’t stop bothering you until you agreed to do it. “I mean…you found the coat so it’s your responsibility to bring it back…” You knew you couldn’t argue with them so you sighed again. “Fine, I’ll bring it to his room.  But it’s your fault if he kills me.” You said. “Then you keep cleaning up. You owe me that much.” They all agreed happily and you reluctantly made your way to the king’s chamber.

The hallways were barely lit but you knew the palace like the back of your hand. You’ve been to Doflamingo’s chamber before but most of the time he hasn’t been there so it wasn’t that big of an issue. But now he would be there and most likely not alone. God, this would be more than embarrassing.

You stopped in front of the huge door and tried to listen for any sound from inside the room. You couldn’t hear anything. Maybe he was alone after all? Or he wasn’t in his room? The coat in your arms was heavy and some of the feathers tickled your naked skin. You raised your hand and knocked twice on the huge door. Your heart was beating in your chest, sweat was running down your skin and your whole body was tense. You were scared. What if he was mad? What if he hit you? What if he killed you? But the door remained shut. You were surprised and knocked again but nothing came of it. He really wasn’t there.

Relief flooded your body and you breathed out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. A small smile crossed your lips and you slowly turned the knob in order to open the door. It was dark inside, only the moonlight from outside illuminated some part of the room. The bed was empty and you dared to enter the young master’s chamber. You walked over to his huge bed and wanted to place the coat on it but stopped. An idea crossed your mind – a dangerous idea if you got caught. But he wasn’t here so….

You slowly pulled on the huge coat and walked over to the big mirror on the wall. It was way too big for your small frame and almost touched the ground. And yet again you realized how big this man really was. The coat smelled like him; the expensive cologne and a little bit of his personal scent. You had to admit it didn’t smell bad. You turned around in front of the mirror, looking at your reflection. How could he wear this and still move and fight so elegantly? It was beyond you but then again, he was a huge man so it probably wasn’t as heavy for him as it was for you.

“And what do you think you’re doing with your king’s clothes?” a deep voice brought you back to reality and your body turned cold. Shit. Why was he here? Where did he come from? You were frozen in place, couldn’t move your body nor your mouth, your throat felt dry and you didn’t dare even breathe. You saw his huge form appearing behind you in the reflection of the mirror, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“It’s improper for a servant to wear their master’s clothes. Though I have to say it doesn’t look half bad. Fufufufu.” He chuckled and you felt his huge hands on your shoulders.

You were done for. You knew it. He was mad. You were a servant and had the audacity to do something stupid like this! He must be mad!

“Don’t you have anything to say?” he asked and his grip tightened on your shoulders, pressing you down with his presence alone. Even if you wanted to you couldn’t say a single word. Instead, your body started to tremble under his grip and you were afraid your knees would give in, made you fall to the floor but you tried to compose yourself. The young master chuckled yet again and one of his hands moved to your head, stroking your hair almost lovingly.

“Why did you try on my coat?” his voice was suddenly closer – too close. His mouth was right next to your ear, you didn’t even see his reflection move down next to your ear. “Was it curiosity?” he purred. A shudder ran through your body. “Or is it some kind of fetish you have?” his tongue moved across you neck and it made you jerk away from him. Your shook your head vehemently and Doflamingo laughed in response. “I don’t believe you. But okay. I need to punish you though. After all, you crossed a line.” His voice got more sinister and you couldn’t compose yourself any longer; your knees gave in and you fell to the floor.

He laughed and crouched down behind you, his hand found its way back in your hair, grabbing it tightly. You whimpered and clawed at his hand but he didn’t let go. Tears formed in your eyes and you finally found your voice again. “Please…young master. Don’t do this.” You pleaded. “Don’t do what? I haven’t done anything to you yet.” He chuckled and bent your head back so you had to look at him. You could see your face reflecting in his sunglasses. It looked scared and you didn’t recognize it at all. He made you behave like a completely different person around him. He made you feel small and weak and scared and you hated it but you also knew that it was justified to feel this way; he was a monster after all.

The coat had slid down your shoulder and exposed more of your skin. Doflamingo moved his free hand to touch your skin and moved it across it, over your shoulder, your neck and your throat. “Please, don’t hurt me, Young Master.” You whispered, tears spilling over your cheeks now and your body still trembling. “If you behave, I won’t hurt you.” He purred and you felt relief – for a brief moment before it was crushed by his following words. “At least not too badly.”

#one piece #op #donquixote doflamingo #op doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo x reader #master x servant

[sisterspooky1013]

Sound Conclusions

Rating:Explicit

Words: 3975

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Tagging @today-in-fic

Find it on AO3

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

2000

She hadn’t expected that her desire for him would only increase after she’d had him once. That first night, emboldened by loneliness and a little red wine, she’d found the courage to reach for him, to lean in to his desirous gaze, to walk them slowly to her bedroom between fervent kisses. It was an itch to be scratched, something that you could anticipate fading away once sated, but it hadn’t. Perhaps that was because it had exceeded even her most graphic fantasies about how it might be, the slip of his fingers inside her igniting nerve endings that her vibrator had never located when she had imagined his touch. The grip of his palms on her hips as she writhed, gasping, in his lap a detail she had never known to conjure. The depth of the growl in his throat when she told him she was going to come vibrating through her bones was a memory she couldn’t shake. The smell of his cum in her panties hours after he’d left her apartment had her breathless, wanting him again already, somehow more than she ever had before she knew the taste of his saliva and the scratch of his stubble against her nipples.

They’d arrived to work the following day and acted as though nothing had happened, pretending not to feel things being one of her specialties. She worked hard to mask the new way her pulse quickened when he touched her back, the visceral response she had to the smell of his breath when he leaned in to whisper a snarky comment during their weekly division briefing. She found herself getting lost staring at his hands while he took notes, remembering the way they stroked her insides, and then blushed when he asked her if she was okay. She knew, without a doubt, that she wanted him again. If he at any point had offered to take her right there on his desk, she wouldn’t have been able to say no. And yet, she was so careful to avoid giving him any indication of this, feeling embarrassed and guilty for such wanton desires, for objectifying her partner like this. The Catholic guilt a wet blanket on her newfound lust, suppressing her into the polished, poised, sexless FBI agent she had spent so much time working to be. Weeks passed, her need for him coursing through her veins like a drug, intoxicating her to the point she often forgot terms and concepts that she normally recalled easily, again prompting him to inquire as to whether she was feeling alright, noting that she didn’t seem like herself.

She wasn’t herself. She was a woman obsessed and fixated, aroused by the casual brush of a hand or the timbre of a laugh. She was sitting on the edge of a precipice, teetering between control and absolute abandon. Normally so securely in the driver’s seat of her own body, she was unnerved by the feeling that she barely had a grip on the wheel, that at any point she might let go and crash into him, revealing the truth that she needed human contact and sexual release just as much as anyone did. The vulnerability in that need made her feel unhinged.

She found herself trying to entice him, concurrently hating herself for stooping so low. She left an extra button on her blouse undone, put a switch in her hips when she walked ahead of him, brushed her own fingers across the skin of her neck in a way that would be unnoticeable in anyone else, but she caught him noticing from the corner of her eye. When she anticipated that he’d come by her apartment, she wore shorts or a low v neck shirt, forgetting a bra or sitting cross legged to reveal the milky insides of her thighs, inviting him, wordlessly, to taste them. Sometimes she thought she saw a flash of desire in his eyes, but he always composed himself quickly, sometimes making an excuse to leave. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he hadn’t tried again, that even when she did something as overt as leave her bedroom door open when she changed, he chivalrously averted his eyes. She realized it was unfair to expect him to understand, to know, what she wanted. Even if he did pick up on her painfully subtle, and occasionally obvious, signals, that didn’t mean he returned her feelings. Perhaps that night had been a mistake in his eyes, a slip up never to be repeated. The possibility that he would reject her if she risked reaching out to him again was enough to hold her back from doing so. Though he had enthusiastically participated the last time, that did not preclude him from having regretted it once it was over.

Now she stood before his closed apartment door on a Friday night, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. Not because she was nervous, but because she was on fire. Her pelvis twitched and her spine arched at the idea of being near him in a private space, where the possibilities that ran through her mind all day seemed more plausible. He’d invited her over for dinner and a review of some possible cases they might take on, so they could plan how to spend their time the following week. Since he’d made the proposal that morning, she’d convinced and then talked herself out of his ulterior motives countless times. She knew that working herself up into thinking that something would happen made it even harder, and she heard her grad school professor’s voice in her head saying “expectations are premeditated resentments, Dana.” Gathering her composure, she took a moment to hike her breasts up in her push up bra and tug her jeans up over her hips so that they were snug against her ass. She’d finally settled on jeans and a green T shirt, which felt appropriately casual, but she’d selected a shirt that was a little too snug and a little too low cut, jeans that were half a size too small and slung low on her hips. If she were to bend over the flesh of her back would be exposed, which gave her a tiny thrill. Any stranger on the street would never give her outfit a second glance; it was painfully basic and unremarkable. But for buttoned-up, proper Dana Scully, it was reckless and suggestive. She may as well have been wearing lingerie for how sexy it made her feel.

Putting on her game face, she knocked. From inside the apartment he called “it’s open” and she let herself in, setting her purse on his cluttered dining room table and scanning the adjacent rooms to locate him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor the living room, and she found herself standing in the doorway of his bedroom, eyes roving over his naked chest and belly, a towel slung low on his hips and his hair spiked and wet from the shower. She smirked a little, wondering if this were intentional. Given her recent antics it seemed entirely possible, so she took a risk and didn’t look away, allowing him to see her rake her eyes over him appreciatively, finally reaching his face where a knowing smile played at the corner of his lips. Those lips. She sighed and smiled back at him, and he glanced down her body and back up before saying “hey.”

“Hi” she returned, suddenly feeling shy. She averted her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be out in a minute, this isn’t what I was planning to wear.”

“That‘s too bad” she said in her head. “Okay” is what came out of her mouth before she turned and went to sit on the couch, tortured by the knowledge that he was naked on the other side of the wall. Was she supposed to take that as an invitation? Was he trying to send her signals just as much as she was him? She suddenly remembered why she didn’t bother with dating; all the guesswork was exhausting.

He emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later in a black T shirt and jeans, his feet bare. He looked freshly shaved. “I ordered Italian” he said, sitting down beside her, only a sliver of space between the sides of their thighs. “Should be here in about an hour, they were really busy.” He smelled like soap and his old spice deodorant, mint on his breath. She figured he had played basketball after work and that explained the shower, but did he normally shave and brush his teeth before dinner? Her expectations were weaseling their way into her thoughts again. Stop, she told herself.

“Do you want a beer?” He asked, and she said yes a little too quickly. He opened a beer for each of them and she sipped it steadily, welcoming the way it would smooth the edges of her thoughts but not wanting to appear as though she were planning to get drunk. Mulder was a gentleman beyond gentlemen and wouldn’t dream of touching her if he thought she were incapacitated in any respect. This was a fact she appreciated generally, and resented presently.

They dug into a thin stack of case files, each leaning forward with their elbows braced on their knees. She watched out of her periphery to see if he was looking down her shirt, and bit her cheek to keep from smiling when she saw that he was at regular intervals. Within about 20 minutes they narrowed it down to three cases they’d dig into on Monday, revealing the fact that an entire evening together wasn’t necessary for such a task, but they were both grateful to set the case files aside and just exist outside of suit jackets and basement offices. Scully was sitting sideways, cross legged, with her back against the arm rest, her toes grazing Mulder’s leg as he sat beside her, his torso twisted slightly to face her. She held her nearly empty beer bottle in her hands, picking at the corner of the label with her fingernail.

“So” he said. She felt the prick of anticipation and the hairs on her arms stood at attention, on guard for whatever might come next.

“So” she responded, because what else was she to say?

He studied her intently, his hazel eyes traversing the terrain of her face, darting from eyebrow to lip to nose, searching her for something. Finally the unbroken attention made her so uncomfortable that she was willing to speak.

“What?” She asked him, keeping her tone neither accusatory nor annoyed, simply curious. “What are you thinking about?” it conveyed, without saying as much.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it forcefully. “Was it a mistake, what happened? Do you think of it that way?”

His speaking of the unspeakable caught her off guard and she felt her face flush immediately. “No” she said, but she couldn’t meet his eye. “No, I don’t think of it that way.”

“What was it then? One time thing? Random fluke?”

How he was able to speak so directly about such fraught topics was always a marvel to her. She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, but closed it again each time. What she wanted to say was that she didn’t know what it was supposed to be when she initiated it, but the second it was over she wanted it to be part of her daily routine, like brushing her hair. Finally she gave him a tiny shrug and an “I don’t know.” She hated herself for making it seem like she didn’t care, but she didn’t know how to be honest without sounding like a teenager with a crush.

He studied her face again, and she self consciously fussed with her hair, looking at anything but him. She could feel him thinking, strategizing. She could only hope his strategy ended with her naked in his lap, but she also realized that if that were to happen, she would have to make more of an effort outside of simply not getting up and leaving.

“Do you want it to happen again?” He asked, and she laughed out of surprise, biting her lip but not answering. She lifted her eyes to meet his and her stomach clenched when she saw the stoic expression on his face, his eyes full of self-doubt. She was an asshole for making him think for a second that she didn’t want him. They lingered there, locked in an impromptu staring contest, until Mulder reached out and took the empty beer bottle from her hands and set it on the coffee table. He then lightly grasped her wrist in one hand and pressed the middle and forefinger of his other hand to her pulse point. She knew what he was doing. Her heart, which was already racing, sped up to something resembling the beat of hummingbird wings. After a moment, he removed his fingers and brought his lips to kiss the spot they had just vacated.

“I realize things like this are hard for you to talk about, and I know you well enough to know that if the answer were no, you would have told me as much and high-tailed it out of here. So I’m going to take the fact that you’re still sitting here, as well as the fact that your heart is working triple time, to mean that it would be acceptable if I were to kiss you right now. Is that a sound conclusion?”

“It is” she said in a near whisper, every cell in her body reaching out for him like he was magnetized. They were still locked in eye contact, though with this new understanding it had shifted from awkward to intimate.

They both jumped at the sudden pounding on the door. “Marinos!” Someone called out from the other side, and Mulder stood and went to grab his wallet. While he was gone, Scully let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since she got here, and stood to use the bathroom. She studied her face in the mirror, sniff-checked her armpits, freshened up to be sure there were no errant toilet paper shreds clinging to her anatomy. When she opened the door, she found Mulder standing on the other side, waiting. She gave him a confused but also amused look.

“Hi” she said around a shy smile.

“Welcome back” he replied with a cool bravado, then stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands, drawing her in to a sweet kiss. She sighed into his mouth, the relief after weeks of tension pooling at her feet. She brought her hands to his neck and used his weight as leverage as she leaned her body against his, wanting him closer. In return, he stooped to grab the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. It was still light out, and without the cover of darkness or the clumsiness of a first time, she felt more powerful and in control. She knew he wanted her, and she knew what she wanted from him. He stepped the few feet towards his bed and gently lay her down, moving to plant kisses along her neck. Pushing the bottom hem of her shirt up to expose her belly, he asked “is this okay?” And she replied “you don’t have to ask, you can do whatever you want.”

“Fuck” he breathed. It was an expression of excitement, and nervousness, and amazement that she trusted him so perfectly, and wanted him so completely.

She sat up and he pulled her shirt off over her head, deftly un-hooking her bra before she slipped it down her arms and threw it over the side of the bed. He sucked a nipple between his teeth and she gasped, her hips bucking into him, her head falling back. He repeated it on the other breast and she whimpered, to which he pushed the bulge in his jeans against her thigh, seeking relief. She pulled at his shirt, signaling him to take it off, and he did in a split-second maneuver, not wanting to stray from his task for a moment longer than he had to. Kissing down her belly, he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them forcefully off her hips and down her legs. His actions were desperate and hungry; he couldn’t wait to get at her, and she could not wait to be gotten. When he went to pull her panties off they ripped under his urgency and he tore them away, hooking his arms under her knees and pressing his face into her vulva as he drug her to the end of the bed.

“Jesus Christ” she called out, her hands threading into his hair as he lapped at her hungrily. She could not believe the speed with which she approached orgasm. She would never have described herself as someone who was easy to please in bed, and yet he seemed to locate every pleasure point on her body with admirable ease, slipping a finger inside her to massage her G spot as he sucked on her clit. She felt herself falling over the edge and she hung there deliciously long, the point of release laying across her like a blanket until it crashed against her like a wave.

“Oh, I’m gonna come” she pleaded, the sound more breath than words, as if he didn’t already know from his position on the seat of her orgasm that it was happening. She came for an eternity, unaware of her own sounds or movements, existing only within her body and beneath her pleasure. He stayed with her, teasing out every throb she had to give, running his rough hands over as much skin as he could reach, until she was sated, and lie still and quiet. He rested his head on the inside of her thigh and waited for a signal that she was ready to return to Earth. After a couple minutes, she spoke.

“Holy shit.”

He laughed, and crawled up to lie next to her, tucking his nose into her neck and placing tiny kisses all over her chest.

“I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I am completely naked” she said, a mix of self-consciousness and humor in her voice.

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down and then back up the length of her body. “You most certainly are” he said matter-of-factly, and she wrapped her arms across her chest in mock-modesty.

“You tore my underwear” she accused him, and he shrugged.

“Do you want to tear my underwear as payback?” He thrust his hips against her gently, and she was reminded that he had yet to be touched.

“Perhaps” she said against his lips, biting the lower one gently, signaling that they were not yet done. As she kissed him, she reached for the button of his jeans and flicked it open before easing down the zipper. He shifted up a bit to give her better access and breathed a low moan when she slipped her hand into his pants and grasped his erection.

“Mulder, I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing underwear”

“Maybe if you’d had the same idea I wouldn’t have needed to rip them off” he teased breathlessly.

She pushed his jeans down and he stood to remove them before rejoining her, curling his naked body against her side as she resumed stroking him. “Come here” she directed, moving her leg aside to make space for his body. He hovered over her, their tongues dancing between their mouths as he thrust against her belly. She lifted her knees towards her chest and reached down to grasp him, brushing the head of his cock against her slick lips. He hummed and mumbled words she couldn’t understand, until she guided him inside her and he said “fuck.”

“Watch your language, Mulder” she chastised playfully, and he thrust into her suddenly, eliciting a gasp.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt? He stilled, searching her face.

She shook her head with a sly smile. “Even if it did, that’s not always a bad thing.”

His eyebrows went up in surprise “I’m learning so much about you today” he mused, resuming his thrusts slowly.

“Likewise” she replied, but her breathing was growing ragged, their playful banter becoming unsustainable.

He quickened his pace, kissing her neck and lips, burying his face in her hair when it became too intense for kissing. Suddenly he stopped and withdrew from her, and she looked at him incredulously. “Where are you going?” A question she’d asked him hundreds of times in an entirely new context.

“I’m interested in seeing you in every position imaginable, however I’ve been thinking so much about last time and I’d really like you to be on top again, if you don’t object to that.”

“No objections here” she replied, moving so that he could sit at the head of the bed against the wall. The sun was setting and she felt a little less exposed in the fading light of the bedroom. She climbed into his lap and kissed him for a couple minutes as she teased him at her opening, shifting her hips so he’d slide by, but not enter her. When she finally sunk down onto him, he dropped his head back and moaned in delicious agony. She started rising and falling slowly, planting kisses on his neck and nipping at his earlobes. As his breathing quickened she changed her rhythm, keeping her body close against his and sliding back and forth. His eyes shot open and his head lifted to watch what she was doing, gripping her hips though he made no attempt to control her movements. He reached down between them to touch her clit and she pushed his hand away. “Too much” she panted. “This part is just for you.” He returned his hand to her hip and trained his eyes on the place where their bodies met, slack jawed and wide eyed as she flexed her pelvis forward and back. When she could tell he was close, she increased her pace until he closed his eyes, he tightened his grip on her and cried out. As he crested over the most intense point, he opened his eyes again and looked at her face, locking eyes with her in the dim light of his bedroom as he filled her with his hot cum, desire giving way to the deep affection they held for each other. She collapsed against him and they sat like that for a while until she felt his fading erection slip out of her and a rush of fluid followed.

“Shit!” She said, sitting up with a worried expression. “I forgot about that part.”

He made a face that set her off giggling, which caused even more to drip out of her and into his lap. “Gah, don’t laugh, Scully, that makes it worse!” His protests only made her laugh harder and he smiled at her jiggling breasts as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“How about a shower, then dinner?” He proposed, and she nodded, still regaining composure.

After a hot shower and a borrowed pair of boxer shorts, they sat on his couch eating reheated lasagna and smiling at each other. After Mulder cleared their plates, he sat back down beside her.

“So” he said.

“So” she returned. What else could she say?

“I’m going to take the fact that you’re still here and that you’re wearing my underwear as an indication that this wasn’t a two-time only thing. Is that a sound conclusion?”

“It is” she replied with a smile.

#the x files #xf fanfic #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #txf #sculder #gillovny

[aetherarf]

Could you write something where Rosaria gets blackout drunk to forget about a nightmare she had of her trauma and Diluc helps her home and takes care of her when she wakes up with a hangover?

Here you go! I wrote it as before they became a 'thing', jsyk.

( i struggled too much with any other way of doing it so.... yah. its so bad )

[[ WARNING: HEAVY ALCOHOL ABUSE, TALK OF SEX ]]

[[ Summary: Simply wanting to protect his homeland, he found himself with less and less to do, until a certain sister, walked by, absolutely wasted, and decided to take up his free time.

Word Count: 2'154 ]]

sAnother abyss mage, disappearing into little shards of light and magic, that collapsed to the ground, and slowly...

Gone.

Dead.

Back to the ley lines.

They had been less prominent lately, likely after everything with Stormterror, or rather, Dvalin, and a selfish part of his mind asked him what are you going to do with yourself now?

He didn't really know, but that wasn't the point, brutally silencing that part of his mind, throwing his claymore to the side and, it too, disappeared. Gone and out of sight, until needed again.

The sound of heels on the stone ground of Mondstadt's paths caught his attention... It didn't sound threatening, in fact, the footsteps were far from rhythmic, reminding him of a drunkard who couldn't put one foot in front of the other, likely just about to break their teeth by crashing face-first to the stone.

Instead, there was a thud, but it was quite gentle... And then the footsteps began once again.

Not wanting to have an idiot crack their skull open on the ground, he followed the sound, until he saw a woman, leaning against a building, her head nodding as though she was too drunk to keep it up straight...

Actually, it probably was that, wasn't it?

As he approached, she lifted her head, and an odd, delirious smile fell on her face.

"Hey strawberry man..." She said, slurred, "What's a naughty little business man like you..." Hiccup, '... Doing out so late?"

He examined her clothes... He knew her, Rosaria. Not well, but she was just as much of a drunk as his own brother, and a faint memory of a time he'd rather let die... He was bound to learn her name, and the bare minimum about her.

"Stopping drunks like you from getting killed." He huffed, grabbing her arm, she tugged to try and get her arm away, but it was a lazy attempt that resulted in nothing. "Let's get you back to the Church." He declared, attempting to foist her onto his back, but she just whined at him,

"Nooo... The sisters...' hiccup, "Are bitches... They're just going to yell at meeee..." She flopped onto his back, arms wrapping around him from behind, "Bring me to your place, I'll make it worth your while..."

A slutty sister. He vaguely remembers seeing a piece of erotica like that in Kaeya's room when they were younger...

He shuddered... Then sighed.

She wasn't safe to be left alone... But she also likely wouldn't go back to the Church, or at least, she wouldn't stay there.

It couldn't hurt, could it? He had no intention of taking advantage of her, in fact, he'd probably just stick her in his bed, stay up doing paperwork in his office for the rest of the night, and tell her she absolutely lost it in her inebriation, and that he's not going to 'save her' from herself again.

... seeing how she clung to him, there wasn't really an option, was it? She'd probably cling like a puppy.

"Fine. But you are not to touch me... Below the belt." He said, carefully.

"Oh," she giggled deliriously, "I know how to make anyone squirm just from their neck... Trust me..."

"And stop talking."

She whined, but technically, whining wasn't talking.

So, he lifted her up, carrying her on his back (since she seemed to be content with her face pressed to his upper back) and began walking.

At least it was a good workout, he thought miserably.

...

By the time he got home, a few things happened.

Rosaria had fallen asleep, snored right into his ear, and rain threatening to come.

She then woke up and started singing some horrifyingly bastardized versions of the songs the Church considered holy.

It was almost liberating, in a way, to hear such a thing... He had never been particularly religious, but the Church were oftentimes quite...smothering in their methods.

Not that he would go out of his way to comment on it, not believing it a worthwhile conversation for he himself to have.

Finally to the Vineyard, Rosaria apparently decided that she was content here, stumbling as she tried to take some of the grapes for herself, he all but dragging her inside before she did something truly unforgivable, even if she whined.

"I'm tired..." She said, softly, "I'm so tired of sleeping on the ground. It's cold."

Diluc raised a brow at her, seeing how she seemed... possibly genuinely upset.

"You won't be sleeping on the ground, you'll have a warm bed." He, awkwardly, tried to comfort her, and her expression lit up.

"Really?"

"Yes. Just... follow me. You'll be sleeping alone, however?"

Rosaria stared at him oddly, but managed to walk on her own, despite her stumbling, and he brought her to the room, she gasping near-silently as she saw his big, soft bed, running to it, half tripping over herself as she fell onto the bed, "Ohh... soft... All it's missing... is a kitty."

A kitty.

"Well, I do not own a kitty. Let me..."

He grabbed her leg, removing her shoes--while he knew that he would be too disturbed to do anything but thoroughly wash the bedding the next day, he did not tolerate anyone wearing shoes into bed in the Winery.

... Huh, for a moment, he was reminded of his father. The apple only falls so far from the tree, after all.

"Hehe," Rosaria giggled, undoing those odd claw-like ordaments on her hands, throwing her headdress across the room, and reaching for Diluc--"C'mere."

He wasn't sure why he was humoring her, but after setting her shoes on the ground beside the bed, he leaned over...

And with a shocking amount of force, she grabbed him, rather, hugged him, and then threw them both to the bed, her face hidden in his chest as she held onto him with a vice grip, "Kitty kitty," She said, words muffled into his coat.

"I'm not--"

Snore.

He tried to pry her off of him, astounded by how she was already asleep and snoring softly, but every attempt was met with only more crushing force onto his ribcage...

...

He sighed.

For some reason, he had a feeling that... she wasn't exactly a threat. Not like this, not to him. Not right now.

So... he sat there. After a few long moments of his mind barely even thinking of anything beyond wondering what had wrought her mind so that brought her to this point, he tried again...

No. She was clinging on, tight. And, well, this was easier to deal with than a drunk and loud woman.

...

Dawn could not come sooner.

... ... ...

Rosaria woke up with her head pounding, so bad she almost wondered if she had a nosebleed, running her thumb under her nose... Nothing. Well, nothing more than the slightest trace of drool, as gross as it was, she must've knocked out hard to be at this point.

But, she realized she was not in the Church. The bedding beneath her was soft, comforting...

...

Hm.

She probably slept with some random bloke and blacked out in his bed. Her hand trailed to her crotch, resting just above it, just below her navel...

No, no, she didn't. Afterwards, especially if she herself did not clean up, she was always... filthy. But she was clean. Maybe he was just particularly kind, and skilled, and had gone out of his way to care for her... Or maybe she...

After clearing her throat, it wasn't raspy, it didn't hurt... Maybe she had a night with some woman, instead? But the morning-after breath, the bitter taste on her tongue just wasn't there.

Well, it was over, and hopefully they were as clean as she was.

Standing up, she saw her own faux claws on the ground with her headdress, and her shoes... Picking them all up and putting them on, she walked to the window, pulling the curtain out of the way...

She nearly hissed at the bright light, letting it stay closed, and she instead turned to the main doorway of the room, deciding she'd either just leave, or find whoever owned the place and ask if there's anything she needed to know before she left...

But the door opened, and she froze, seeing a figure...

... Bright red hair, pale skin, with the faintest hint of freckles that most could never see.

Diluc. She never thought she'd see him ever again.

For a long moment, there was a silence between the two of them...

"... I figured you had a hangover and made breakfast. Come."

He still seemed to be as kind as Barbara insisted he was. She was impressed.

She followed him as he went ahead, looking around curiously... The fine decoration, distant scent of wine... The winery. No wonder the bed was so lovely and soft. However, she wouldn't expect a man who had been put in such a position to...

...

Well, when she wasn't absolutely shitfaced, trying to stop hearing the voices that haunted her in the dark, she was usually pretty good at convincing people she was sober when she absolutely wasn't.

They got to the kitchen, and Diluc went out of his way to begin preparing her plate for her- It was a pretty typical brunch, rather than breakfast, and it all seemed quite well made... Minus the hashbrowns, she'd probably just force it down or not touch it.

He pulled out her chair for her, and she chuckled, "What a gentleman," She said, with a fake smile on her face, letting him push her seat in, taking a bite...

It was quite good. It had been... a long time since she had a warm meal. Maybe she was a little bit touched that someone would make a hot meal, just for her.

"So," She said, after swallowing the first bite, "Do you have any diseases? I'd rather not get shamed by the sisters when getting tested if you're clean."

There was a moment of motionless, and he turned to look at her--She just noticed his hair was down... he almost looked like he had the mane of a fluffy kitty. Heh.

"I'm clearly not sick." He said, a little huffy, and she sighed.

"I mean sexual diseases. All this is payback for a good night, ri-"

There was the sound of shattering, and she pushed herself to her feet--

Diluc was staggering, and he managed, somehow, to look even a shade paler.

"We- We did nothing!" He snapped, and then stood up, "Fin-finish your meal, I... I can handle this."

She hesitated, but sat back down...

Somehow, she wasn't surprised he would act like this, but... "We didn't fuck?"

"No," He sounded... strangled. "We did nothing. You wouldn't go to the Church when drunk, I brought you here, and you dragged me into bed and fell asleep with... no... touching."

Does the word hurt your tongue, little boy?

"Huh," She put a forkful of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully, "I guess you're a real gentleman."

"I'm not a gentleman." He insisted, the gentle sound of shards clicking together as he swept it up, "I'm just a decent person."

"Decent people don't bring strangers to stay in their homes."

"You're not a stranger."

...

Well. That wasn't... wrong.

She didn't have anything to say, and went back to eating, as he finished cleaning whatever shattered when he tripped like that... Guess there was a reason she didn't feel gross or achy or messed up. She felt... well, better rested than she had in the past few months, and the shock of it all had made her hangover seem so... distant, even if it threatened to come back.

Shoving the last of the food in her mouth, she downed it and took a big drink of water to force it down, and stood. "Well, I'm sure you want me out of your hair--" "Do you need medicine?" He asked, idly.

"Medicine?"

"For your... headache, migraine, whatever you feel during a hangover. I don't have much experience with those."

She looked at him for a moment.

"I'm alright. The meal was enough. But I'll let you get back to whatever a winery owner has to do."

"... Try not to get drunk like that again," Diluc chided, gently, "I don't want to think about what would of happened if I didn't find you."

She chuckled, taking a few steps towards him, grabbing his chin and angling his face to look down at her.

"What a gentleman. And what if I misbehave? And drink anyway?"

He stared at her... blankly.

"It sounds like you're challenging me to take care of you."

"Is it working?" She asked, bemused... "Oh, don't worry, I'll be a good girl. See you next time."

"I dread the next time."

She couldn't help but smile as she found her way out of the winery...

Well, at least he still seemed to have some life in him, after all that's happened.

#genshin impact #diluc #rosaria #rosaluc #diluc x rosaria #anonymous #angst #angsty bark #// eh #request #bark writes #// this rlly wasnt the request but #// i literally couldnt do it any other way

[thecaptainhelm]

Every Tap of My Heart

Here’s a  valentine’s gift for @savagenutella46, whose a lovely person! Here’s my gift of writer love for a fellow maribat enthusiast, hope you have a wonderful day fit for a wonderful person. xoxo uwu [insert heart heart winky face heart eyes rose]

Thanks to the moderator @eat0crow for setting this up so nicely, ily all!

In a small office, one of the many in the college of liberal arts building, two people sat across from one another in an awkward manner. One, a rather tall, tan, and robust young man with a relaxed and loose posture, and the other, a much smaller brown, older gentleman, salt and peppered hair and frown lines around his mouth.

“Mr. Wetherby,” the young man said in greeting.

“Jonathan.” Mr. Wetherby deadpanned in return. There was a slight pause between the two before the older gentleman spoke again.

“Well, how are you progressing with your midterm project Jonathan? You were well ahead of your peers the last I observed. I trust you have maintained this pace?”

Jon grinned at this, rather than being intimidated by the scholarly demeanor of his professor. Many of his classmates were intimidated by Mr. Wetherby if not for his surprisingly deep voice, then for the juxtaposition of his gentle appearance and his strict teaching. He had only ever felt amused.

“Yes sir, everything is going well. I’ve already checked the business’s schedule and set a meeting with the owner to have a short interview. Everything is totally in order.”

Mr. Wetherby stoically gazed at Jon’s silly grin as they conversed and didn’t say anymore. He simply nodded, typed a few phrases in the computer and turned the screen to Jon. 

“Very good. With this the meeting is complete and you’ve received full marks for the student-teacher progress report. Have a nice day, Jonathan.”

“Right sir, thank you sir, you too sir,” Jon smiled, bright and goofy, unmoving from his seat.

Mr. Wetherby gained a slight tick near his temple.

“Mr. Kent.” The young man blinked, tilting his head with a look comparable to a puppy dog.

“Yes, Mr. Wetherby?”

“You may leave now,” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Have. A good. Day.”

“Right sir, of course sir!” Jon bounced up and carelessly packed his things away. “Have a good day sir!” He energetically left the room and before the remaining occupant could so much as sigh, Jon popped back in, dark hair flopping into his eyes.

“Oh yeah, are we still on for patrol or are you going to call in--”

“Beat it, Corncob!”

“Hahaha!” Jon cackled and dashed away to complete his assignment. Anyone who saw him would do a double take. It seemed as though he was gliding on air, though he wasn’t moving particularly fast. People shrugged and moved about their day, too busy to really care.

Jon Kent was just strange like that.

Sometime later in the evening, the tall and somewhat awkwardly bulky Jon Kent nervously shuffled his way through Metropolis, carefully moving around busy pedestrians and apologizing in a fluster when he didn’t move carefully enough. He knocked into one final person and sheepishly grinned at the irate grunt before arriving at his target location. La Bonne Fée.

The building was sizable, enough space for a backroom, restrooms, a cozy kitchen facility, counter, and booths for people to sit and relax, with enough space left over to not feel compact. The furnishings were all warm, comfortable and the decorations had a slight vintage feel from a  bygone era of classy etiquette and manners. Through the door he could clearly hear the music of an old school juke-box, playing a Jagged Stone album.

Jon had come to such a café to ask the owner for an interview for the school financial magazine’s new column dedicated to new and upcoming businesses.

Some would ask if Jon lost his touch, others if he was touched in the head. Why would he interview a brand new café, one not even a part of a chain, when they were practically all over the city selling the same thing as their competitors.

Jon swallowed hard, and knocked on the softwood door. He picked up a jumping pulse and saw though the window a head of dark hair quickly poke out from behind the counter. His palms had become sweaty and his own heart jumped in his chest when soft footsteps quickly paced to the door and was pulled open with a silent, breathless smile.

“Jon, hey!” Marinette Dupain-Cheng looked up at him with bright grey eyes, almost silver under the city lights and his heart really kicked into high gear then, only slightly less embarrassing when he heard her heart doing the same.

“Glad you could make it,” She nervously fixed the hem of her sweater and pulled her apron on straight.

“Me too,” He smiled at her and was fine getting lost on her eyes before she cleared her throat and held the door wider.

“Would you like to, um if you would--?”

“Oh right, yeah, yeah, yes please, um,” Jon gulped and grinned strangely. He walked in with small quick steps through the door, taking extra care to not bump into her and send the smaller woman three inches through the flooring. God, he wouldn’t ever live that down if that actually happened.

“Well, I’ll grab some refreshments while you set everything up. Be back in a bit,” Marinette grinned as she led him to a booth near the front, out of view of the windows and moved to the counter with a stiff gait. He sat, pulling out his notebook, his voice recorder, pencils and two copies of the agreed upon interview questions. He fiddled with the materials, trying to distract himself from Marinette’s sounds, her heartbeat, her slight hitches in breath as she moved, the sound her petite fingers made when rubbing against the foam cups, all to no avail.

Yes, that’s a suspicious amount of attention to a single, pretty young woman in the city, but he couldn’t help it. He pressed down on the indentation of his index finger, reveling in the simultaneous sensations of hearing and feeling her heartbeat in person.

He couldn’t help it because she was his soulmate.

Jon’s soulmate mark was one he had from birth, thought to be a deformity but what was actually a touch based soul mark. Pressing it would allow him to feel the pulse and heartbeat of his soulmate, so long as they were alive in this life. The doctors had actually thought there might be a twin or a second heart while he was in the womb, but an x-ray via Superman showed that he was a  lone healthy baby. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a small, triracial young woman, with delicate features, a barely noticeable spread of freckles across a small nose and round grey eyes that turned into happy crescents when she beamed wide and unrestrained. This was all he knew about her, from their brief interactions while they set up the interview, all skin deep and superficial knowledge that he wanted to get past. 

This was his soulmate and he knew he shouldn’t rush, but there were so many things that she would have to know about him, things he shouldn’t and couldn’t hide from her, at least not forever, but how was he going to bring up being a superhero? No, wait, how was he going to bring up being half extraterrestrial?! She’d freak!

He tried to relax. He only found out the Marinette was his soulmate when he asked if she would let him interview her and couldn’t help but compare her heart rate to the one on his finger, further panicking when he saw her press her fingertips together in glee and saw the imprint of his finger upon her own. From there he saw that her index finger would snugly fit the imprint on his and he knew it, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his soulmate, that special person the universe found matched perfectly to him in every way that counted. He’d studied and pressed and listened to this heartbeat, wanting to press his head against her back to study and listen in the flesh for years, all before he knew who she was and that she was his and he was hers.

He pressed on it as she walked back to their booth, watching and smiling as she relaxed somewhat, lightly stroking her thumb along her finger as she set the tray of cookies and coffea, the cafe’s specialty fusion drink.

“Sorry for the wait,” She neatly placed the cookies between them after setting down their drinks. He watched the quick and graceful way she tucked the tray into her seat beside her before sending him a dazzling grin that briefly scrambled his brain.

He gaped before managing to stutter out a lame “no trouble” and Marinette merely grinned, cheeks pink. He could dually understand her heart at this time and couldn’t help becoming more flustered. His dumb brain was making him think Marinette had a crush on him, when she was probably just nervous and excited for the interview.

Yeah, that’s all there is to it, nothing more to it at all, he told himself while watching her cheeks darken. 

It wasn’t anything more.

“Well, here’s to a good interview?” Marinette nervously giggled as she raised her cup and Jon did the same without a second thought, only realizing his mistake when she saw his soulmark and paled, honing in like a bat out of hell. He tensed trying to think of an excuse or a lie or something to say but he was stuck. Hope clogged his throat and desire pressed down his tongue.

“You have a soulmark?” She asked after a lengthy pause.

“Y-yes, I do.” His voice cracked from bad nerves and excitement.

“I do too. Touch based.” Her eyes pierced through his soul and pinned him on the spot. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

“Cool. Super cool! I have one too, touch based like yours, yep! Cool!” Jon bobbed his head fervently, searching her gaze and found that she seemed to have the same idea as him. Her hand stretched to the middle of the table and waited for him to meet her in the middle. When he reached, slow and steady, it exposed the subtle quaking of his hand, revealing his inner feelings. He was comforted by the fact that her hand was shaking across from him too. It was a relief she felt the same.

Finally, the fingers touched, a small pale finger tapping two knuckles against the back of his. His shoulders tensed, Marinette mirroring him beat for beat as shoulder collapsed in devastation.

If Jon had thought that feeling Marinette’s heartbeat secondhand was an amazing feeling, then all the wonders of the accumulated sensation were nothing compared to this one touch. The pure physical sensation of another being pulsed through him, the echoing din that had been with him unnoticed all this time becoming known as he melted into himself, feeling it destroy him gently and lovingly.

“Wow,” Marinette breathed shakily. “Wow, I’ve, I never thought,”--an incredulous laugh-- “That was…”

She trailed off taking in his enraptured expression.

“Yeah, me too.” He grinned in wonder. His eyes bored into her own, falling deeper into her spell.

They stared at each other before Marinette finally broke the silence.

“Bonsoir.” She extended her other hand, unwilling to break contact.

“Hi.” He firmly grasped it, giving a strong shake. “Jonathan Kent, miss. Pleased to meet you.”

Marinette smiled beatifically. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The pleasure is all mine, Jon.”

The End

#maribatdrabbleexchange #marinette dupain-cheng #jonathan kent #marijon #maribat #marinette x jon

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love Is Not Forced ~ 14

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,600ish

Summary: The Princess begins her travels to the different kingdoms. Starting with Asgard.

The next two days were all a whirlwind of activity. Upon hearing that King Steven had left to go prepare Brooklyn for the Princess’ arrival, the rest of the royals decided that’s what they were going to do as well. Much of her new wardrobe that the King had made was packed up for the unforeseeable weeks ahead. King Anthony was surprised to hear that his daughter had thought about which kingdoms she wanted to visit first. And gladly agreed to her request. 

It was early in the morning, when the carriages were ready to depart. Wanda was the only one of her servants allowed to come along. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, was to be her head guard and brought five of who he believed to be some of the greatest soldiers in the kingdom. Just in case. To see them off, the King, Queen, and Prince had also risen early.

“Be respectful,” her mother told her as she guided the Princess to the carriage. “Try the food, even if you know you won’t like it. Spend time getting to know the people in each kingdom. One day, soon, some of them will be your people. And try your hardest to get to know each one of them. See beyond the crown.”

“I understand, Mother,” Y/N smiled. 

The Queen stopped them and held her daughter close to her. “I’m so proud of you. And I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Peter grabbed her next. “Don’t let any of them try anything, Y/N/N. You got it?”

“I got it.”

He leaned close to her ear. “I’ve seen the bruise on your wrist. Please be careful, sister.”

“Always am.” She kissed his cheek before moving to the King. The King looked scared. “Afraid, Father?”

“Honestly, a little.” He looped his arm through hers, guiding her away from everyone else. “I’m scared that you’ll come back hating me more. Or that you’ll come back ready to leave me.”

“I don’t hate you, Father. I never could really hate you. You’ve done so much for me.”

Anthony moved a hand up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb across it lovingly. “I’m so proud of you. You’ve handled this so well.” He pulled his daughter into a hug. “If anything happens that I would not approve up, you come home right away. Having you do this, is not worth you getting hurt. I love you, my Princess.”

“I love you too, Father.”

The King held a kiss to her cheek before guiding her back to the carriage and helping her in. He shut the door, studying her. No matter what needed to happen, he would always think of her has his little princess. He gave the carriage a few hits before stepping away and blowing a kiss as the carriage began its journey. Y/N watched out the window until her family, and her kingdom were out of sight. Wanda and her chatted, lightly, the whole way to Asgard. Wanda could tell that the Princess was getting more nervous the further away from Alexandria they got, but she didn’t push her. 

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes, when she noticed Asgard on the horizon. It was shining, glimmering in the light of the sun set. The Princess sat there, wide eyed, as they rode up to the kingdom. The people lined the streets. Banners and streamers decorated the buildings. Y/N waved to the people as the carriage continued towards the palace. As the carriage pulled up, the royal family and the royal guard were standing outside the palace to greet her. Loki was quick to be the first to the carriage, opening the door and holding out a hand.

“Your Highness,” Loki smiled up at her.

Y/N smiled back, setting her hand in his, allowing him to help her out of the carriage. “Prince Loki. It’s good to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Loki kissed her hand before leading her to the others.

“Princess!” Thor greeted, happily. “It’s so good to see you again.” He grabbed her hand, also pressing a kiss to it.

“It’s good to see you too, Prince Thor,” she giggled.

“May I introduce you to our parents,” Loki took over, guided her towards a beautiful woman and a man who’s beard and hair were perfectly white. She also immediately noticed the eye patch adorning his right eye. “This is Queen Frigga and King Odin.”

“I’m so glad to finally meet you both, Your Majesties,” the Princess bowed. 

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Queen Frigga said. “From our sons and your Father. We’re excited to get to know you ourselves.”

“Same here.”

“I don’t think we should hold the Princess up any longer,” Odin spoke up. “She’s had a long journey and is probably tired. Thor, Loki, why don’t you both show her to her room.”

The Princes nodded, both taking a side of the Princess and each taking her arm. They guided her away, pointing out things about the palace as they went. She couldn’t stop being in awe at how magnificent Asgard was. Y/N also couldn’t help smiling, with Thor making her laugh and Loki close by on her other arm. She could imagine every day being like this. If she were to choose one of them. If the choice actually ends up being hers. They came to a halt in front of two large doors.

“This is where you will be for your stay here in Asgard with us,” Loki stated.

“Thank you both for guiding me,” she grinned. “I probably would have gotten lost with out you both.”

Thor threw back his head and laughed. “We wouldn’t let that happen, Princess.”

“We would never let you get lost,” Loki said, causing her to look at him. 

“Well, I really am tired. I had a long day. But, really, thanks. I’m excited to spend my time here.”

“Of course, Princess. We’ll have your dinner sent to your room so you can rest.”

“You will need the rest, Your Highness. The whole kingdom is gathering to celebrate in your honor tomorrow!” Thor announced.

“Oh,” Y/N said, “I will really need my rest then. Thank you both again. Good night.”

“Good night,” they both said as she slipped into her room. 

Wanda was already in there, with all her things put away. Giving Y/N a little time to explore the room between bathing and dinner arriving. She was eating out on the balcony when she noticed a paper, folded, barely tucked under her plate. She unfolded it to read: 

I’ll come visit you in an hour. Make sure you’re alone. - L

Y/N couldn’t hide the smile that grew on her face. It wasn’t that hard for Y/N to convince Wanda to go spend some time with her brother for a little bit. She was pacing back and forth too excited for Loki to visit, when there were knocks on her door. The Princess did her best to compose herself before answering the door. The door was barely open before Loki slipped in and shut it behind him.

“Afraid someone might see you sneaking into my chambers?” Y/N giggled.

“A little,” Loki smiled. He pulled her into him and kissed her softly. “I’ve been wanting to do that since that night in the garden,” Loki whispered upon pulling away.

“Me too.” 

Y/N pressed her lips to him, this time with a little more force. Loki moved them away from the door, scared someone might hear them, but still keeping their lips together. As he gently grasped her wrist, Y/N whimpered in pain. Loki quickly pulled away and Y/N turned around, holding her arm to her chest. 

“What was that?” Loki questioned. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N responded. “I’m just clumsy.”

“I don’t believe you.” He marched over to stand in front of her. She refused to look at him. “What happened?” He carefully brushed some hair behind her ear. “Did someone hurt you?”

“Just let it go,” Y/N said. “Please.”

“No. If someone hurt you, I want to know who and why.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Y/N shook her head. “It was a few days ago and they’re working on their apology.”

“It was King Steven, wasn’t it?” The way Y/N close her eyes and took in a sharp breath, he knew he was right. “He did this to you.”

Y/N looked up at Loki. “Yes. But please don’t tell everyone, or going fighting him. He’s trying to make it up to me. He was just trying to get me to listen.”

“No, he needs to be put in his place. I can’t believe he—“

“Let me deal with it, Loki. After my time in Brooklyn, if he does anything else or I don’t feel like his apology is enough, then I will let you have at him. But, please, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“But you got hurt. First by words and now by his hand.”

She set a hand on his face, getting him to really look at her. “Promise me, Loki. Promise me that you won’t do anything until I say.” She moved her hand so that it was behind his head more and carefully pulled it down so that their foreheads were touching. “Promise me,” she pleaded quietly.

“I promise.” 

next chapter >

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@marinettepotterandplagg​

@learning-howto-be-myselfx3​​

#steve rogers x reader #loki x reader #t'challa imagine #thor x reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel imagine #steve rogers imagine #loki imagine #thor imagine #avengers imagine #king!Steve Rogers x reader #marvel royalty au #marvel medieval au #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 2

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life. 

Ch 1, AO3

~*CS*~

Portland, Maine- April 10th

Emma hadn’t intended to be late to rehearsal.  In fact, she wanted to be early to get a step up on Jones.  She figured just because she was doing Ruby a favor didn’t mean she couldn’t exert a little pressure on the guy at the same time.  By the end of a tour she was usually ready to kick everyone off the bus and finish the damn shows herself and she was good friends with Ruby and the others in the backing band.  Jones had to more than prove himself to her during the rehearsal turned audition.  He had to blow it out of the water.

Of course, that had been before she was the one showing up almost forty minutes late.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” she huffed under her breath as she ran across the parking lot, the guitar strapped across her back knocking her in the ass with every step.

“You’re late Miss Swan.”

Emma grimaced at the sound of her manager, Regina Mills’, voice.  The woman was scary on a normal day with her custom designer suits, red soled stilettos, and three hundred dollar haircuts that made sure not a single dark hair was out of place, or grey.  She was holding open the door for her with a look of extreme annoyance or impatience or disappointment.  It could have been all three but Emma blew past her into the building and down the familiar hallways towards the space she and the others had been rehearsing in for years.

“I know, I know.  Sorry-” she shrugged in apology and nearly dropped the three notebooks and handful of loose papers in her arms.  Hugging them tighter into her chest she kept moving, “The bug wouldn’t start and I had to call Mary Margaret to borrow her car and then there was an accident on the highway.”

“And why couldn’t you have carpooled with Ruby?” Regina asked cooly as she followed, clearly unmoved by her tales of woe.

Emma stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and spun to face Regina, “Ruby can’t be here.  She’s not supposed to drive with the pills she was given.”

“She is and she didn’t,” Regina said with a roll of her eyes, pushing at Emma’s elbow to get her moving again. “Some other woman who has the manners of a barn animal is here with her.  If you keep inviting people to rehearsals I’m going to start charging for the privilege, maybe even turn it into a VIP package.”

“It must be Dorothy,” Emma smiled, her first real one since Ruby’s practically world ending phone call. “Good for her.  And the only other person who should be here is that Jones guy Ruby swears is worthy of replacing her.  She said he’s a session guitarist, do you not know him either?”

She’d opened the door that led to the rehearsal space, looking over her shoulder as she asked.  Regina raised an impeccably plucked brow and settled her gaze behind her.  Turning towards the room she immediately saw who the stranger was and promptly dropped everything in her arms in shock.

“Careful there, Swan, if you’re anything like every other songwriter I know those things are worth more than their weight in gold.”

Emma could do nothing more than stare as Killian Jones set his guitar aside and crossed the room to pick up the papers and notebooks at her feet.  He gathered them all and tried to straighten them before handing them up to her, a crooked grin on his face.  It faltered a little as she continued to stare at him before he chuckled and scratched behind his ear.

Killian Jones was definitely not the random guy off the street Emma had been imagining, he wasn’t even a vaguely familiar face she’d seen in the halls of their rehearsal space.  He had been the lead guitarist and second vocalist for one of the biggest rock bands in the world almost fifteen years earlier.  His band, Realm of Jewels' second album had gone multi platinum, they’d played arenas and headlined festivals across the globe.  Rumor had it that their third album was supposed to be even bigger.  Then there had been a terrible accident and half the band was gone in an instant.  Killian Jones had survived but emerged from the wreck with one hell of a dragon, in the form of alcohol and pills, on his back.

As far as she’d known he was just another rock star that had gotten lost in the world because of his addictions.  Apparently the story hadn’t ended there.  No, it had seemingly kept going with him ending up in her goddamn rehearsal space looking bashful and hot as fuck.

“You’re Killian Jones.”

He blushed and it almost killed her, “Last time I checked.”

“Realm of Jewels,” she challenged, wondering if he’d shy away from his past.

“Once upon a time,” he shot back, a glint of humor in his eyes as his blush faded.

She hummed, “Rolling Stone called you a ‘not so hidden gem in the rock world, poised to be among the pantheon of rock gods’ if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Good memory,” he grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “And that same illustrious publication said you were on the road to being the Stevie Nicks of your generation.  A bit belittling but not far off the mark.”

“Belittling?” She asked sharply, her hackles rising.

He held up his hands in defense, “Not in the way you think, Swan.  If I had written the article I would have perhaps said that you were a talent beyond compare.”

“Oh,” she said, deflating a bit but still on edge due to him being there at all, “um, okay.”

She glanced around the room, trying to find a way out of the suddenly awkward silence that had settled between them.  Tink Greene and Will Scarlet, the other members of her backing band, were huddled by the drumset, watching them with barely hidden awe, clearly star struck at being in the same room with the Killian Jones.  Ruby was sitting on the couch, whispering to the woman sitting next to her, who could only be Dorothy.  Emma caught Ruby’s eye and not so subtly jerked her head back towards the hallway she’d just come from.

“Emma-” Regina snarled as she started backing out of the room.

“I’d like a minute with my guitarist if you don’t mind,” Emma said through gritted teeth, giving Jones an insincere smile that had his own widening in glee.

“Oh, do let them go, Your Majesty,” Jones said with a laugh. “I believe we still need to discuss certain terms and conditions of this little arrangement.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue that nothing was decided when Ruby pushed her fully into the hallway with surprising strength in her uninjured arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me Ruby?” She hissed as soon as the doors closed behind them. “Killian Jones?!”

“So you obviously know there’s no need for him to audition,” Ruby said with a sly smile. “I mean you have seen him in concert four, no fi-”

She covered Ruby’s mouth with her hand, shushing her as she pushed her further down the hallway.  They only made it three steps before Ruby licked her palm, cackling with glee when she yanked her hand back, disgusted.

“It’s not gonna happen.”

“Come on.  He can play, he’s available and he knows the songs.  This is the best you’re going to get and you know it,” Ruby stated proudly, her grin smug.

“The best,” Emma muttered, shaking her head and trying to keep hold of her temper. “The best?  Jesus Christ, Ruby, the second he steps out on stage it’s not my show anymore, it’s his.  I have worked too fucking long and hard for that asshole to come in and take it all from me in some bid to reclaim his glory.”

“Oh, oh no, Emma, that’s totally not at all what this is,” Ruby whispered, her face pale and looking stricken. “He owed me, big time, and I obviously didn’t think about any of that when I called it in.  Look, don’t repeat this to anyone.  Like, anyone.  But Killian hasn’t played in public since he got out of rehab.  That he even agreed to do this is I think big enough for him.  He’s not looking to steal the spotlight.”

“Then why is he here?” Emma asked, slightly mollified but still seething.

“He misses playing for an audience but I think he has a kind of block or something about going for it on his own,” Ruby said softly.  She gave a half-hearted shrug, “I’m just trying to help out two friends in one go.”

The last of her anger drained away at the sincerity in Ruby’s voice.  It wasn’t often that Ruby was the serious one in their friendship but when she was Emma always paid attention.  If she hadn’t she’d have still been waiting tables at Granny’s Diner and only playing her guitar at barbeques and bonfires for their small group of friends at home.  She also wouldn’t have been able to call Storybrooke home for that matter.

No longer angry but still infinitely annoyed she tipped her head back and let out a sigh, “Fine I’ll give him a chance on two conditions.”

“Excellent!” Ruby crowed.  Emma dropped her gaze back down and raised a brow at her, “Whatever the conditions he’ll totally do it.  He wants this, just doesn’t know how badly he does until you start making him jump through hoops to prove it to you.”

“Oh, only one of the conditions is for him,” Emma said with a smirk.

Ruby’s eyes widened, “What?  Why do I have to prove myself?”

“You don’t.  I just want to know how you can call Killian Jones, one of the most famous guitarists-”

“Who you had a poster of on your wall,” Ruby broke in with wiggling eyebrows and a giddy grin, “and a laminated photo in your-”

“Who had a very public and very destructive drug and alcohol problem, your friend,” Emma continued pointedly.

Ruby’s grin faded, “He was in the same rehab facility as my mom.  Well, one of them.  On one of her bad days I went for a walk around the gardens to cool my head a little and recognized him.  Had a bit of a fangirl moment, if I’m being honest.  Not exactly my finest moment since he was there to get his life back together and I go gushing about how great I thought he was before it all went to shit.  I could tell he was humoring me until I started talking about gigs and asking him how to improve my playing, then his eyes kinda lit up and he started offering me advice and some tricks for the road.  So whenever I went to visit my mom I would also stop by to talk to him about music.

“After my mom decided she was done being sober, again, I still went by to see him.  He needed a friend and I guess I needed to believe that someone could actually follow through with getting clean.  When he got out we stayed in touch.  Just a ‘hi, how’re you doing’ text every so often.  Until, of course, the arm thing happened.”

“And you never mentioned it because…?”

“I wanted to but it seemed-” Ruby shrugged, “like an invasion of privacy, somehow?”

Emma nodded, getting what Ruby meant but still a little hurt that she’d kept it from her.  She’d only admit it on threat of death having met him but Jones had been her number one celebrity crush since she’d discovered Realm of Jewels in her senior year of high school.  Ruby was a witness to it then and clearly still remembered that embarrassing fact.  Then it occurred to her that there were dark parts of her life that she wouldn’t want shared with a fan no matter how close of a friend Ruby was with them.  She nodded again, fully accepting the truth of what Ruby had told her.

“I’m not going to go easy on him,” she warned, spinning on her heel and walking back to the rehearsal room.

Ruby laughed, “I would have been suspicious if you did.  So what are you going to make him do?”

“You’ll see,” she said cryptically with a grin before opening the door.

“Finally,” Regina muttered as they walked back in.  She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Emma, “You may be a favorite of the owners here but we’re still paying for every minute this room has people in it.  So start playing or find somewhere else to work out your little grievances.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma apologized again, knowing that if there was something that pissed Regina off more than wasted time it was wasted money.

She felt Killian’s eyes on her as she greeted Tink and Will before moving to the piano.  It was like a phantom pressure between her shoulder blades that she was trying her best to ignore.  If he was trying to unsettle her she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction and if he was trying to figure her out she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.  When she finally had all her things set up how she wanted and ignoring him was no longer an option she turned to face him, valiantly trying to hide that she was still slightly shocked and unnerved that he was there.

“Ruby said that you’re a session guitarist now,” she began without preamble, hoping to gain whatever upper hand she could.

“I may not be hurting for cash, love, but a man does like to keep busy,” his voice dipped low at the end of his statement.  Paired with a raised brow and feral grin she had to hold back a snort of amusement at his innuendo.

“Not your love,” she shot back dismissively, “She also said that you’ve played on my albums?”

His grin faltered, “Aye.”

“And would you say you enjoyed the songs you recorded or were they just a forgettable few in a long set of recordings to… keep you busy?”

There was the sound of a violent snort and then a deep spluttering a cough that belonged to Will from behind her.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ruby rolling her eyes at her and Regina throwing up her hands in exasperation.  She kept her face impassive and gaze on Killian, pleased to see him fidget and scratch behind his ear in what had to be nervousness.

“Erm, well when I first recorded one of your songs I’ll admit I had no clue who you were and no interest in discovering more,” Killian admitted but instead of dropping his eyes he held her gaze. “Then I had the fortune of recording another one and found myself intrigued.  I’ve listened to everything you’ve released up ‘til now and I’ve enjoyed all of it, not just what I was hired to play.”

“Okay then,” she said as cooly as she could, despite the giddiness and disbelief running through her knowing that he liked her music. “Now I hope you don’t mind but I’d like to hear you play something.”

“Play something?” He repeated, flabbergasted.

“Just a few different songs,” she said innocently, “so I know you’ll be a good fit.”

His mouth opened and closed several times before he shot an incredulous look at Ruby.  Emma could barely hold in her laughter as Ruby shrugged and said nothing.

“Problem, Jones?”

He turned back to her, looking incredulous, “Let me get this straight, Swan, you can quote an article from Rolling Stone that was released well over a decade ago about my playing and you want me to audition?”

“Only if you want the gig,” she said with a shrug.

She could see the muscle in Killian’s jaw jumping, though she wasn’t sure if it was from annoyance or contemplation.  Either way it gave her a little inspiration.  While he continued to stew she pulled out her phone and did a quick internet search for what she needed.

“Fine, love,” he said, drawing her attention back to him.  He picked up his guitar and slid the strap over his head. “What would you like to hear?”

“Can you read music?” She asked with honest curiosity.

“I can,” he said warily.

“Good-” she turned to Ruby, “I need your Ipad.”

Ruby gave her a calculating look before slowly extracting the tablet out of her purse and handing it over.  Emma gave her what she hoped was a look of innocence before pulling up what she needed and handing it over to Killian. 

“Layla?  A classic-” he smirked and handed her back the Ipad, “and one I already know by heart.”

With that he started playing, amazingly, and Emma almost didn’t have the heart to stop him.  Almost.

“Whoa there, Jones,” she said loudly, waving her hands for him to stop.  He did with a discordant note and stared at her in confusion.  She handed back the Ipad, “I wanted you to play this.”

He looked at it and then back at her, his brow furrowing even more, “But I was.”

“No, you didn’t read the music-” she wiggled the Ipad at him, “You were playing the lead.  I want to hear you play the rhythm.”

“Ah,” he breathed, a look of bemusement and something that was too much like awe replacing his confusion, “I see.”

From there he played every unflashy guitar part she could throw at him.  He didn’t complain and his annoyance didn’t make a reappearance.  The others listened happily and even offered suggestions, though Regina had left with a disgusted huff after the fourth song.  They passed the tablet back and forth several times before she decided to end the teasing with one of her favorites.

Killian snorted when he saw her choice, “You do know that two great guitarists play on this one right?  Even playing rhythm on this one is an honor.  Although, the same should have been said for Layla, but I have enjoyed this little challenge.”

“Good to know,” she said, smiling. “I don’t want you to play rhythm on this one though.  If you don’t mind.”

“It would be my honor,” he hummed, handing her back the Ipad.

The chatter in the room fell silent as the familiar chords of While My Guitar Gently Weeps swept through the room.  Emma closed her eyes and let the music wash over her.  There was only one constant in her life and it was music, first listening, then playing, and finally creating.  It had never sent her back, never sent her to prison, and never forced her to send her child away.  As Killian played the last notes she felt the familiar pang of melancholy the song invoked in her but made sure the smile she gave him when she opened her eyes was genuine.

“Thanks.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you for giving me the opportunity?  I’ve never had to audition before-”

“Lucky git,” Will grumbled as he ambled by them, heading toward the snack table on one side of the room.

“Will Scarlet, drums, constant pain in the ass but our pain in the ass,” Emma commented lightly, batting away the Red Vine Will had tossed at her.  She hitched her thumb over her shoulder to where she’d last noticed Tink, “That’s Tink Greene, bassist, she’s small but she’ll knock you out if you mess with the current rotation of romance novels she’ll be bringing on the bus.”

Killian raised a brow at her, “I can’t quite tell by your tone but am I to believe I got the gig?”

“You had the gig as soon as she saw your pretty face and hot ass,” Ruby called out from her spot on the couch, causing Emma’s cheeks to heat up and Killian’s lip to curl.

“Yeah, well-” she cleared her throat, “We’ve, uh, already used up our reserved time for today and Regina won’t be happy if we stay late, even if we actually rehearse.  We’ve got a couple more weeks of rehearsals on Mondays and Fridays and then it’ll be almost every day until the tour starts.  If you need somewhere to stay just let Regina know and she’ll book the hotel room or whatever.”

“So I got the gig?” Killian pressed, his blue eyes glittering in mirth.

“You got the gig,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at his toothy grin. Then she let her features settle into what she hoped was a menacing look, “There’s some conditions.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding sagely.

“Your name isn’t going to be in any of the advertising, or brought up in interviews, and absolutely not on any of the damn marquees.  You’re being hired as a guitarist in my backing band, not as the feature player.”

He nodded again but with understanding, “Of course, I have no desire to upstage you or hijack the tour for my own needs.”

“Good,” she said, slightly surprised he agreed so easily. “This is also temporary.  Once Ruby gets the all clear from her doctor she’s back and you’re out.”

“As I wouldn’t want to keep a fellow musician, or friend, out of work I will happily step aside-” he gave a little bow that she refused to see as charming.

“And last, no groupies on the bus,” she added, fighting to keep her face impassive and the blush that threatened from pinkening her cheeks.

It had never been a set rule, in fact it was one they’d each bent a little one time or another, but a weird pressure built in the back of her neck at the thought of having to see and listen to Killian with some doe eyed fan.  Not that she cared.  She just didn’t want to get to know him that intimately, even if it was by proxy, when she barely knew him as anyone other than the rock star she’d had a crush in high school.

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly before he laughed.  It didn’t sound forced or off but somehow Emma knew it was fake all the same.

“Understood, love.”

“Still not your love-” she held out her hand and his hand was calloused and warm when he grasped it, “Welcome to the band.”

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #ouat ff #my writing

[baldrambo]

What do you think Hopper’s funeral was like? I’m kinda curious about whether or not that’s going to be addressed.

I am SO sorry for getting to this like 80 years after you sent it, lmao.  This was such a good question and the more i thought about it the more I got these clear images in my head of that day, and the more I wanted to just write it. I have 0 expectations that it will be addressed, honestly, SO here is Jim Hopper’s funeral service, told through the eyes of 4 non-Party members.

It was the last funeral, and by far the largest.  Karen Wheeler found herself thinking it was also the most beautiful.  She shifted her weight in her tall black heels and glanced around at the throng of solemn people in black.  The casket stood at the epicenter, a large block of shiny wood that shone brightly in the afternoon sun.  In a way, the symbolism of it felt silly.  There wasn’t a body.  There hadn’t been any bodies.

Attempting to banish the morbid thought from her mind, she glanced sideways at Ted who was staring solemnly at Pastor Charles.  Was he reading from the Book of Revelation again? She found it next to impossible to concentrate on any of the readings, anymore.  Ted had willingly attended every funeral with her, without complaint.  A fresh wave of guilt struck, and she swallowed.  Holley peeked over from her Dad’s arms, her large blue eyes carrying a new weight to them.  She was a kid now, not a baby anymore.  Karen reached over and gently caressed Holley’s cheek and that familiar, deep and abounding love for her children coursed through her like a powerful current. Karen wondered how someone could ever survive the loss of a child.

Karen turned to Mike, who stood stoically on her right, his hands at his sides like a soldier standing at attention.  He was staring over Pastor Charles, his attention on the trees in the distance, his eyes unfocused.  His mouth was set in a tight, straight line.  He hadn’t said a word all morning.  Hadn’t said a word since dinner last night.  The dinner table had been deadly silent, the new norm.

“I don’t want to go to the funeral tomorrow,” Mike spoke up, his voice eerily flat and quiet.  Karen looked up from her plate and squinted at Mike, confused.  “It’s the last one, Mike.  And it’s for the Chief.”

He clenched his fork in his fist and looked up at her, a strangely hollow look in his eyes that made her stomach start cramping up in knots.  “I’m not going.”  Karen looked over at Ted for help.  His attention was conveniently focused on Holley.  Karen put her silverware down, gently.  “I know this is upsetting for you, Mike, and….”

“No. No! You don’t know!”

“Mike...” Nancy reached over to put her hand over his and he wrenched it back standing up in his chair abruptly.  “It’s not like I actually wanted him to DIE!” He shouted, kicking at his chair. It went flying backwards, striking the wall.

Karen and Nancy both stood up.  Nancy stopped her.  “I’ll go.” She gave her mom a reassuring look, and wiped her mouth with her napkin, tucking her chair into the table neatly.

Nancy was standing at Jonathan’s side, leaning on his shoulder, her hand wrapped around his arm. Nancy kept sneaking glances at Jonathan, whose hands were in his pants.  Jonathan wouldn’t meet her eye, his attention fixated on Joyce who was staring ahead, stone-faced, at Pastor Charles.  Her face was still strangely devoid of emotion.  Will flanked her on the left, a head taller than her now. Clearly uncomfortable, he kept shifting his weight and looking over at Joyce, too.  

3 days after the fire, Will answered the door, his polite smile more a grimace. He stepped aside to let her in. Joyce was sitting at the kitchen table, a large ashtray full of cigarette butts in front of her.  She’d looked up at Karen, large, dark circles under her dry eyes.  “Thank you for stopping by.”  Karen nodded, watching the trail of smoke from Joyce’s lit cigarette float up towards the ceiling. Joyce redirected her attention to the ashtray, barely blinking. Karen looked nervously over at Will who gestured silently towards the front door.  Unnerved, she stopped in the doorway, turning back.  “If she is upset and needs someone to talk to….”

“She hasn’t said much since the fire,” Will interrupted.  “Thank you for stopping by, Mrs. Wheeler.”

Nancy caught Karen’s eye and gave her a small, sad smile.

Karen had thought, naively, after the fire, that they might, finally, trust her.  Trust her with this weight they carried with them, this weight that had been hanging around since that girl had made an appearance in Hawkins. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew, they ALL knew something she didn’t.  Even Joyce.

She glanced down again at Mike.  His lower lip was quivering.  Karen reached over and slipped her right hand into his.  He gripped it back, tightly.

***

Scott Clarke thought Karen Wheeler was still the most beautiful woman in Hawkins.  He watched her place her hand in Mike’s, her black dress effortlessly drawing attention to her slim figure.  She had been his first crush, he remembered.  She dated Scott’s older brother, Rob, when Karen and Rob were seniors in high school.  He had been in….6th grade? 7th?  It felt like an eternity.  A bead of sweat dripped down his neck in the heat.  He tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his button down.

There were beautiful white lilies lying delicately on the casket and perched in small bunches surrounding the funeral attendees.  They were freshly picked.  Were they the Chief’s favorite flower? It didn’t seem like they would be.  He thought the Chief was probably the type to prefer wildflowers.  He thought he would prefer wildflowers at his funeral, too.

He would remember the morning after the fire for the rest of his life.  He woke up like any other summer day, fried 2 eggs, toasted two slices of bread, and sat down at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee in his Friday mug.  His weekly copy of Science Magazine opened in front of him, he flipped on the news, prepared to ignore another day of local Indianapolis crime.  Within moments, his coffee and breakfast were forgotten.  Frantically thumbing through the prior year’s class roster, he stationed himself in front of the phone for the next 5 hours.  It was around three in the afternoon when he finally got off the phone with the Police Department and marked the last student on his list safe.  Moments later a sobbing Ms. Landon called.  Frank Rose in last year’s 5th period math class disappeared from the 4th of July Festival and was presumed dead in the fire. Scott had gone over and spent the evening with her.

Suddenly growing aware of the silence, Scott blinked, focusing back in on Pastor Charles.  He stepped aside to allow Flo from the Police Station to begin her eulogy.  Scott glanced around him at people growing increasingly uncomfortable in the heat.

Maxine Mayfield was conspicuously absent.  Scott hadn’t seen her since her brother’s funeral.

Lucas Sinclair stood adjacent to Scott, his parents behind him.  He fiddled with the buttons on his coat and his mother swatted at his hands, leaning in and whispering in his ear.  He stood up straighter and turned to his left.  Dustin and Claudia Henderson were standing beside the Sinclair’s, Claudia Henderson periodically blowing her nose loudly into her handkerchief. The boys exchanged a look and turned their attention another ten feet away to a handsome, familiar-looking older boy with longer hair.  The older boy met their gaze and shook his head slowly.  A warning.

It had been the boys that first made him suspect something else was going on.  

A few days after the fire, Scott reached up and knocked on the door.  Erica Sinclair opened it a moment later, staring up at him.  She put her hand on her hip.  “WHO are YOU?”

“Mr. Clarke.  I’m here to see Dustin and Lucas.”  Moments later he heard loud thudding on the steps and the boys appeared in the doorway, shoving a protesting Erica back into the house behind them, shutting the door loudly and standing up against it, staring awkwardly at him.

“I came to check on you, boys.  Dustin, when I stopped by your house your mom said you both had been at the Mall the night of the fire.”  The boys exchanged a worried glance and turned back to Scott.  Lucas grimaced.  “Yeah, we….we were there. It was….it was a really, really big fire.” “Huge,” Dustin interrupted.  “We were…we got caught in it.  But we got out.”  Lucas nodded along enthusiastically.  Scott swiveled between the two of them, skeptically.

“Anywayyyy, we better get back inside.  Almost time for dinner.  Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Clarke!”  Lucas called out as he scrambled for the doorknob.  “Yeah, thanks!”  Dustin scuttled inside after him, shutting the door abruptly.  

Scott looked down at his watch. 2:55pm.

The boys had stopped fidgeting and were focused on Flo now, their faces solemn. Scott looked back over at the older boy, who was staring up at the sky, as if he were trying not to cry.  Steve Harrington!  That was his name. He’d nearly flunked the boy in 7th grade. He had to be 17? 18 now? How did he know Dustin and Lucas?  Frowning, Scott turned back to Flo, who was struggling to finish her statement.  Joyce was standing just beyond the casket, as resolute as ever, the crowd of mourners centered around her and her sons.

Strangely, Scott found himself wondering if Joyce ever figured out what was wrong with her magnets.

***

If only the Chief were here now, Calvin Powell thought to himself, to see the entire town of Hawkins show up for his funeral.  He could just picture him blustering about the office with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  “Just bullshit obligation,” he’d mumble.  And if he knew Flo would be the one giving an impassioned eulogy on his behalf, he would be mortified.  Powell stared over the casket as Flo’s lilt carried across the field.  Well, the Chief could suck it. Because he’d gone and gotten himself killed, and now here they all were.  Without him.

Scott Clarke was standing straight ahead of him, watching over Dustin Henderson and Lucas Sinclair.  There were some hardened people in this town, but that man certainly wasn’t one of them. He’d been on and off the phone with Scott Clarke the day after the fire.  That’s when he’d still been acting as de-facto Chief. Not anymore, of course. The Feds had seen to that.

Powell re-directed his attention to Flo as she walked towards him, wiping at her eyes as she folded her notes up and tucked them inside her dress.  He gave her a small, reassuring smile and squeezed her shoulder as she stood beside him. Callahan was nearby with his young wife.   When the Chief took over, everyone figured he would make Callahan Deputy. He ruffled a few feathers by naming Powell.  He still remembered the Chief’s first week on the job.

“I already TOLD you,” Roger Walsh sneered.  “I’m here to talk to the Chief.  “Well I’m Deputy,” Powell cut in.  “So I’m here to….”  Walsh interrupted by sniffing and crossing his arms, his lip curling in disgust. “Deputy.” He clicked his tongue, staring Powell down.

Hopper waltzed into the station, his eyes red-rimmed, and headed over to the counter for coffee, ignoring the two of them.  “Chief Hopper,” Walsh interrupted him, uncrossing his arms. “I need to speak with you about….”  

“Talk to my Deputy,” Hopper interrupted, tipping his head back and swallowing a swig of coffee.  He turned towards the men, grimacing.  “I don’t have time for whatever *this* is today.”  Hopper headed past the men towards his office. “This is bullshit,” Roger cut in.  “You are the Chief, I don’t want to talk to this nigg…..”

Hopper stopped and swiveled, aggressively grabbing the man by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him forwards.  He smacked his lips.  “What?” He tilted his head, looking down at the man, his face stormy.  “Go ahead.” His voice was dangerously low. “What were you going to say.”  Roger gawked at the Chief, terror in his eyes.  Hopper let go and pushed the man backwards. “Get the fuck out of my station,” he growled.  “Powell, I don’t want to see him again.”

Flo nudged him sympathetically.  He was crying.  Powell sniffed, angry with himself.  He promised himself he wouldn’t do this.  Not here, not now.  The Chief wouldn’t want him to. He swiveled away from her, hoping Callahan hadn’t seen him.   Jonathan Byers was standing next to Pastor Charles now.  He was wearing worn down black trousers, his right hand resting in his pocket, a piece of paper in his left.  He took a deep breath and began reading.

The Feds had showed up within days, sauntering about the office arrogantly.  Powell wasn’t sure how a picture of Hopper’s dead daughter contributed to a federal investigation but then again, what did he know? He was just a small-town cop.

Jonathan Byers had chosen today of all days to demand an audience with Powell. He stood in front of the desk as Powell scooted his chair to the side for a man with dark shades.  The man looked up at Jonathan pointedly and then continued out of the office with a stack of papers from the bottom drawer. Another agent strolled in and also stopped for a moment to stare at Jonathan, recognition all over his features, too.This second man grabbed another box of papers in the corner.  

Powell opened his mouth to question the boy when Jonathan blurted, “Flo said you were helping her with Hopper’s funeral arrangements.  I want to give a eulogy.”  Confused, Powell frowned, scooting his chair back to its proper place. “Son, that is very nice of you to offer, but….”

“He was there for my Mom and I, when Will disappeared,” Jonathan interrupted, passionately.  “When NO ONE else was,” his voice broke and he looked away. Taking a deep breath, he looked back over at Powell.  “We’re the only family he has, now.”  Powell didn’t have it in him to say no.

Things grew quiet and Powell re-directed his attention to the boy, who was struggling.  He stopped to put his head in his hands.  Nancy Wheeler approached slowly and took his other hand, standing with him.  Jonathan got himself together and continued.  Powell glanced over at Joyce, who was staring down, her eyes trained on the grass.

Powell felt the worst for Joyce Byers.  Ever since Lonnie skipped town she’d been on her own, and she always seemed one bad day away from a breakdown. But the Chief had a way with Joyce.  Powell suspected the Chief had been sweet on her, he even teased him about it once.  “I was with her when we found Will in the woods. I’m just doing my job,” the Chief had shrugged.

As Jonathan finished up his speech, he walked back to his mom, hand-in-hand with Nancy.  Jonathan reached for her hand when Joyce turned away suddenly, retreating towards the parking lot.  The entire town watched her as she went.  As if she were the Chief’s Widow.

Powell never bought that the Chief wasn’t sweet on her.  Just like he never bought that Will had been lost in the woods, or the fire at the Mall was just a fire. But then again, what did he know? He was just a small-town cop.

***

Jane always came to visit, at least every two weeks, without fail.  But it had been a long time.  Too long.  Slowly but surely, Terry Ives built up her strength to go and find her daughter.

Terry squeezed her eyes shut, her daughter’s features coming into crystal clear focus.  She reopened them, pushing herself up from the rocking chair.  A bed lay fifteen feet in front of her, a still figure laying on top of it.  

Jane.  Her feet splashing in the inch of water that filled The Void, Terry approached the bed, her heart pounding.  Jane’s eyes were closed, and she stirred for a moment on the sheets. Asleep.  

Standing there for a moment, Terry sized up the faded green comforter and white bedframe.  This wasn’t The Cabin.  Terry kneeled beside the bed, water soaking through the bottom of her nightgown.  Faded tears stained her daughter’s sleeping cheeks and a beige shirt was folded in her arms.  A small patch on the arm read “Hawkins Police.”

Terry leaned forward and rested her hand on her cheek.  “Jane,” she whispered gently.  Her eyes fluttered and opened.  Jane blinked for a moment, confused.  Jane sat up slowly and looked around, still gripping the uniform.  “Jane!” Terry exclaimed, louder this time. El continued to look around the room, the confusion turning into despair.  “Mama?”  She whispered, clutching the shirt tighter.

Something was terribly wrong.  She could barely feel Jane’s energy, it was weak.  Too weak.  Terry rested her hand on her daughter’s cheek again, but she didn’t move.  Jane squeezed her eyes shut tight.  “Mama,” she murmured, and a soft sob escaped from her lips.  She pulled the shirt to her chest.  “I can’t feel you, Mama.  I can’t feel him,” she began to cry, her despondency like painful tendrils reaching into Terry’s own heart.

Horrified, Terry glanced around her desperately.  Why couldn’t Jane see her?  Why couldn’t she feel her? Something fuzzy beside the bed grabbed Terry’s attention. Focusing in on it, a small nightstand materialized.  It was adorned with a lamp, a clock, and a picture frame.  The frame included 2 small boys and a petite brunette woman.

The woman. The woman who came to see her with the Cop. Why was Jane in her house?

Terry heard a noise behind her and turned around slowly.  A small green car came into focus.  Terry took a few small careful steps forward.  The woman was resting her head on her arm, leaning up against the car. She was taking shallow, shuddering breaths, her tiny frame quaking ever so subtly.  In pain.  

She was wearing all black, standing in tall grass.  Not with Jane.  As Terry approached, the woman picked her head up.  Her big brown eyes were filled with tears.  She put her hands up to her eyes, dabbing at them carefully with the backs of her hands.  The grief etched into the lines of her face matched Jane’s. Taking one final deep, sharp breath she squared her shoulders and started walking away.

Terry watched her figure pass by Jane’s bed, fading away into a cloud of smoke. Where was the Cop?  Terry felt the beginnings of exhaustion creeping into her mind and she pushed them away.  She had to find the Cop.  She fought for a mental image of him.  Her mind was going fuzzy, Jane’s bed fading in and out like a t.v. station competing for a signal.  Panic creeping in, she squeezed her eyes shut, pushing for the memory.  Her breath grew raggedy from the strain as she opened her eyes.

Another bed began to materialize, this one without a bed frame, this one far, far away. Yet somehow so close.  Blinking, Terry slowly stepped towards it, the image continuing to cut back and forth with her daughter’s.  As she grew closer to him, The Void seemed to expand around her.  The air grew colder and her heart began beating faster.  Thump, thump, thump.  He was lying on his side, curled up in a ball.  Shivering.  Not safe.  She was a few feet away when his voice grew slightly stronger, his image momentarily clear.

“You don’t tug on Superman’s cape….you don’t….spit.  Into the wind.  You don’t pull…the mask off that old lone ranger…..and you don’t….mess around…..

….with Jim.”  The hopelessness and fear were so powerful, Terry nearly froze.  Mustering her last bit of strength, she reached for him.  Her hand closed over his.  Terry gasped audibly. “El?”  He whispered into the darkness.

And with that, he was gone.  Jane was gone.  Terry felt the sensation of falling, sharply, backwards.  She grasped for something, anything, in front of her as she fell, her hands closing around thin air.  She landed in her rocking chair, now frozen in place.

“Terry?  Terry!”  Becky leaned over her sister.  “Why is the lamp blinking, honey? What is going on?”

“Breathe,” Terry whispered. “Sunflower.  Three to the right, four to the left. Rainbow.  Four fifty. Breathe. Sunflower. Three to the right, four to the left. Rainbow.  Four fifty.”

“Terry, what is it?” Becky whispered, urgently.

Breathe.

#stranger things #jim hopper #joyce byers #el hopper #jonathan byers #will byers #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #jopper #jancy #karen wheeler #scott clarke #officer powell #terry ives #stranger things fic #i hope this hopper callback to will in TUD is obvious that is totally what i was going for!! #anyway hope you enjoy your fic #unpredictablybittersweet #fic

[prolestariwrites]

The Wish [1]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Lady, Eva, Sparda, OC  Rating: General  Tags: Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Typical demon hunting violence

Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth?

A/N: Hooray for a new story! This story takes place sometime between DMC4 and DMC5. Thank you to @solynacea for reading and lending her OC for this fic. If you’re read Promise Me Forever you might recognize Lir, but she is completely different in this fic, so I hope you like it! I’ll be publishing about every week since I’m mostly finished. Your comments are always appreciated, and you can check this out on AO3 and FFNet too!

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Chapter 1: Be Careful What You Wish For

“Nero!” Dante’s voice echoes down the hallway as he peers through the rush of demons, swinging Rebellion as best as he is able as he scans for him. “You good?”

“Need help already?” The kid sounds nearby, but down a ways, and Dante snorts at the smart-aleck response. He bites back a response, remembering what it was like to be nineteen and feel invincible, to have power and stamina and enjoy the rush of killing demons.

It’s different now that he is older, the moves as familiar as breathing, the enemies mundane as paint drying. Meeting Nero and getting to know the kid, training him, especially with his suspicions all but confirmed, has breathed new life into the legendary devil hunter: but it’s still just a regular Friday night, clearing out another warehouse that houses another cell of demons for another client that’s just going to bitch about the holes left in the walls.

Dante continues pushing forward, slicing off arms and heads as he goes. There has to be a queen mother up ahead; no way this many slipped through a portal, these babies were bred. Maybe getting to the big bad will be interesting, and then he and Nero can stop before going into Fortuna to get a drink or six. Maybe he’ll even let Dante crash on the couch, now that he and Kyrie have set up in a house in town and have the room.

The drone of Red Queen suddenly cuts off, the lack of white noise catching his attention. “Nero?” he calls again, but this time instead of a snarky comment two shots ring out in response, followed by the entire building shaking as a roar goes up from inside. “Nero!” Dante shouts, slicing as he doubles his speed, actually trying now so he can find the kid and find out why the hell he needed his gun in such close quarters. Either he forgot one of Dante’s rules for demon hunting (“don’t shoot a gun in a tight space, dumbass”) or he’s in trouble.

Turns out it’s trouble—well, sort of. They are on the third floor, having been going methodically through each level to clear it out, and when Dante skids to a stop in the central part where the elevators are, he finds them gone. Instead, there is a huge hole where the elevators used to be, the concrete and iron in a heap below them where it had collapsed.

He looks up to see Nero on the other side of the giant hole, wiping his brow with his forearm. “You okay, kid?” Dante calls over.

“Yeah,” Nero shouts with a bit of a laugh. “I got them corralled but I guess the weight was too much. Just managed to jump out of the way.”

Dante shakes his head. “Stay there and I’ll come get you.”

“Nah, I got this. There’s gotta be a set of fire stairs at the end.” Nero points Red Queen towards the dark hallway behind him. “Let’s make sure that was the last of them. I’ll meet you at the bottom.”

“Yeah.” Dante sighs as he watches Nero go, and then looks around at where the floor and elevators had broken from the supports and given way. No way the weight made this happen; you could probably park a semi in here and it would hold. The building is structurally sound, supposed to be anyway, and it would take more than a few dozen demons to knock a hole in it. No, something made the floor collapse, and his gaze goes upwards, wondering where the queen bee could be hiding.

Dante doubles back and finds his staircase, taking the steps two at a time upwards. The hallways are eerily empty after the deluge in the bottom floors, and he stalks carefully through, checking each office. The damn place has a thousand places to hide, so there is no telling where the big bad could be.

On the top floor, lucky number seven, he hits the jackpot. The second he steps out from the stairwell Ebony and Ivory are drawn as he picks his way through the nest that covers the walls and floor and even ceiling. The emergency lights give a weird glow to everything, but his demon eyes can see clearly in the dim light as he listens carefully for movement.

He finds the demon in the corner office, thinking it has good taste and laughing at his own joke. At first he doesn’t see the queen, but a shift in the air catches his eye and he fires both guns into the dark, smiling at the sound of bullets making their impact.

With a wail it emerges from the shadow, clutching its chest. “What did you do that for?” the demon yells.

“Eviction notice, numbnuts,” he says. “Time to head back to wherever the fuck you came from.”

“I can’t,” the demon argues. “I have my eggs to hatch, my babies to look after—”

“Babies?” Dante chuckles, scratching his head as he places his other hand on his hip. “Sorry, I think I killed all of ‘em.”

The demon snarls. But instead of threatening him, Dante is surprised when it asks, “What do you want?”

“What?” he blinks.

“What do you want? To leave me alone?”

Dante huffs. “Don’t work like that, sweetheart.”

The demon moves closer and he aims his guns again. It starts to unfold itself from its spot, and Dante’s eyebrows go up to see it’s probably almost seventeen feet tall, completely squished into the office. “My name is Veguaniel,” it says. “I am the demon of fortune.”

“Good for you.”

“How much do you want?” the demon asks. “How much are you being paid to kill me? I can double it. Triple it even.”

“Are you serious?” he groans. “I don’t do this for the money.”

The demon looks him up and down. “That’s obvious.”

“Watch it.” He points the guns at its head, and the demon shrinks back a bit.

“I want to pay you! I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams! You’d never have to slaughter the innocents like me again!” Dante snorts as it tilts its head. “You can’t possibly like doing this.”

He cocks the hammer on each gun. “Not about liking it. About paying the bills.”

The demon gives an annoyed huff. “This is what I’m saying. I can make you rich. I can buy you whatever you want. There’s got to be something you’d rather be doing than this. Would you like a mansion? A yacht? How about a palace?”

Dante chuckles to himself, but admits it’s almost tempting. Suppose this demon has some fortune granting power? He tries to think of himself as some fancy millionaire and fails. To be honest, all he would really want is a nice house and a nicer bike. Maybe work on engines, build things? Meet a pretty girl with a sharp wit and killer smile and settle down, like Nero and Kyrie have.

“This is stupid,” he says. “Not gonna happen.”

“So why do you do it?” it asks. “There must be something a god of fortune can give you for one tiny, little favor.”

Dante growls under his breath, his patience out. “I’m a devil hunter because I’ve been hunted by demons my whole life,” he snaps. “Ever since you fuckers came down on my house when I was a kid, killed my family, and then made my life miserable. Getting paid is just a bonus.”

“Hmmm.” A tentacle slithers out and taps on the demon’s cheek, as if it is thinking. “Did that make you sad?”

“What?”

“Did losing your family and all that make you sad?”

“What the hell? Of course it did!” Dante snaps. “But I don’t see why—”

“So you wouldn’t be a demon hunter if they hadn’t died, is that it?” The demon’s voice trails off, and Dante frowns. “I can grant you a fortune that has nothing to do with money. Would you like your family back?”

He grits his teeth, anger starting to bubble. “Shut the hell up.”

The demon bares its teeth in a grotesque smile. “Done.”

The floor gives way, and Dante shouts as he falls, firing upwards. He gets a glance of the demon waving to him just moments before he lands headfirst on the concrete and the world goes black.

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The squeak of the shower turning on wakes him. Dante opens his eyes and immediately regrets it, pain piercing his temples like an ice pick to the brain. “Damn it,” he sighs, reaching up to rub his forehead.

The ceiling is white, not the faded yellow of his place, so he figures he must be at Nero’s. Damn, did the kid have to find him and save his ass? He’ll never live this down, and as he stretches his stiff limbs he sighs and closes his eyes again.

He remembers the warehouse and the demons, and Nero getting separated. Then he had found the head at the top of the building and it had… asked him about his family? Dante frowns, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes. Demons are getting fucking weirder by the day.

He enjoys the few minutes of quiet until the shower turns off. Dante sighs, moving to roll over and sit up. Either Nero or Kyrie are in there, so he figures he’ll go downstairs and give them privacy, but when he sits up he notices two things. First, he’s in just his boxers, which is weird because that means Nero undressed him. Also, he doesn’t own boxers, preferring to let his junk ride free, knowing the ladies liked how it looked in tight denim.

Second, their bedroom is way different than it was. He’s been there a few times but he helped Nero paint the house and their bedroom was definitely green. Dante remembers this because Nero had bitched about the color to him because he couldn’t to Kyrie. But the bedroom is now a soft shade of blue, and he wonders if the kid finally confessed that the color sage reminded him of puke.

The door to the bathroom opens and a woman walks out wrapped in a towel. He blinks when it’s immediately obvious it is not Kyrie: this one is shorter, slimmer, her platinum hair almost white like his and falling in a trendy bob style at her shoulders. The woman takes no notice of him, moving to a set of drawers and opening the top one.

“Uh, excuse me?” Dante says.

The woman looks over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Who are you?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes. “Har har, very funny.” She goes back to pulling out clothes and says, “I know I said I’d never work on a Saturday, but Jenny’s kid is sick and I didn’t have the heart to make her come in. But I promise it’s only a half shift, and I’ll be home by two.”

That doesn’t answer his question at all, but before he can point that out she drops the towel. Dante spins quickly, his heart pounding as he yanks the sheet up over his lap, hissing, “What are you doing?”

“I told you, I’m covering for Jenny. It’ll be easy enough for a Saturday. It’s a nice day out, nobody goes to the library when it’s sunny.” Dante peeks over to see her thankfully wearing a bra and panties, which he stares at for a moment before remembering he shouldn’t be staring. He looks down at his own lack of clothes and frowns, wondering if it’s her house he slept in. Does that mean they had sex? Maybe he and Nero made it to the bar after all and he got lucky?

Not bad, he thinks as he looks back to where she is shimmying on a pair of jeans. She’s cute enough at least, gorgeous even, although he wishes he could remember her name. “Hey, uh—”

“Don’t forget to be ready by five,” she says, rolling on deodorant. Then she glances over at him and frowns. “You okay?”

“No. Yes. Sorry, five?”

Dante frowns and she laughs. “Yes. Reservations are at five-thirty and you know if we’re a minute late your brother will start complaining.”

That gets his attention, and Dante feels the blood drain from his face. “My… brother?”

“Yes. It’s your parents’ anniversary. Remember?” Dressed now, she runs a brush through her hair as she sighs. “Please tell me you didn’t forget. This has been planned for weeks.”

Dante jumps up and stalks towards her, pulling the brush from her hand and grabbing her elbow to turn her. She only comes up to about his shoulders, and his expression goes menacing as he glares down at her surprised one. “What do you know about my parents?”

“Dante, what in the world? What is wrong with you?” The concern in her voice tempers him a bit, and she pulls her arm away to press a palm to his cheek. She examines his eyes closely as she asks, “Are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head or something? You look strange.”

“I…” I fell, he wants to say, but she brushes his jaw gently. “Why don’t you take it easy today? You’ll have the whole house to yourself. Get some coffee and just relax, and when I get home we’ll see how you feel, okay?”

Did losing your family and all that make you sad? Where did that come from? “What about my parents?” he asks again harshly.

She takes a steady breath. “It’s the thirteenth. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary. We’re all going out to dinner to celebrate.” Then she rubs his arm gently, and it’s then that he notices the band on her ring finger. His eyes go wide, and startled, he looks at his own left hand, where a matching gold band sits on his fourth finger.

His blood is pounding in his ears so loudly he barely hears her goodbye. “Just stay home and relax,” she says, and when she reaches up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek it pulls Dante back to the present.

He watches her walk through the room and grab her purse just as she reaches the door. Then he is left blinking as the door shuts, the sound of his raging heartbeat still thundering in his ears.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante sparda #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dmc fanfiction #fanfiction #the wish

[themuzzleofnemesis]

1-Memory of Settling the Score; Scene 2

The Muzzle of Nemesis, pages 18-39

--Men in military uniform stood around me in a line in the meeting room.

One of them was pointing to a spot on the map that was spread out on top of the table, and explaining something to me.

“—The southern front has already been broken by USE forces. Rolled has been taken from us, and they are currently marching for Lucifenian. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before they retake the Republic of Lucifenia. We’ve managed to hold back the Marlon cruisers to the west with our naval unit, but the situation hasn’t been favorable--”

Why was he saying such things to me?

What—was this man’s name?

…Areus...Yes, he is…General Areus Hymn.

My blurred consciousness gradually began to clear.

And that’s…Gigaty...Polrio...And that man with the glasses is Grand...

I confirmed the names of each of the officers lined up before me inside my head.

Mima...Encheri...Yes, they’re all—my subordinates. My colleagues in the great Tasan Party.

General Areus didn’t look so good as he gave his report.

His expression, more than his words, told of our poor military situation.

“—Our allies have been slow to act. Beelzenia has their hands full with defending themselves, and Jakoku…They’re still suffering from the ‘unfortunate accident’ the other day. We have reports that they’re already preparing a complete surrender to the USE army.”

And there, General Areus stopped moving his mouth.

He seemed to be waiting for me to give some sort of response to his report.

It was the same with the others. There was sweat on his brow, and he remained standing at attention.

Would we surrender?

Or would we continue the war?

They were waiting for my words.

--The words of Elphegort’s führer, Nemesis Sudou.

.

I had been sitting in a chair, and it was there that I stood.

I could tell clearly that everyone was breathless with anticipation.

“…There’s no problem.”

I’m positive that I was smiling.

How could I be smiling in the midst of such a crisis?—That bewilderment showed quite obviously on the officers’ faces.

It wasn’t that I was bluffing.

It was as I had just said—there was no problem.

“Everyone, come with me.”

I approached a bookcase that was deeper in the conference room, and pushed a key that I had on my person into a keyhole on the underside of the shelf.

The bookcase slid to the side, and opened up a doorway to a hidden room.

.

There were various kinds of devices in this room.

There weren’t many who knew what they were for even among the top officers of the Tasan Party.

The first one to speak up was General Areus.

“So you’ve…already made preparations.”

“Correct. We need only activate it now, and everything will be over.” I put my hand on the firing mechanism, and once more flashed a smile. “This bastard child of the gods who will lead us to victory—‘Punishment’.”

It was a new weapon developed by Elphegort’s proud researchers. Its aim was already on the entirety of Evillious.

The two firing tests we had done for it had produced results beyond expectation. The first “Punishment” had completely burned down the Millennium Tree Forest to Elphegort’s south, and the second firing had transformed Jakoku’s Onigashima to a land of ash—To tell the truth, that one had been a miscalculation; by all rights it was supposed to land on an open field on the western edge of the United States of Maistia—we had finished correcting for that configuration error.

“But…Führer.” General Areus’s expression was still stiff, even as he looked upon the firing mechanism. “Do you really intend to use this?”

“Do you have some objection?”

“I have two worries. First—‘Punishment’’s destructive power vastly outstrips any weapon that already exists. No matter where it lands, we won’t be able to avoid having many civilian casualties. The other concern is that there are instabilities in its accuracy from rushing its development. There’s a chance that it may go off course and cause damage to our own country—”

“Our scientists are working to ensure that doesn’t happen. We won’t have another failure like with Jakoku.”

“But—”

General Areus didn’t withdraw. Apparently there were others who shared his thinking among the other officers.

It seemed I would have to first correct their misconception.

“General. I have no actual intention of firing ‘Punishment’ right away. This is—a deterrent.”

“…”

“Word has already spread to other countries of the situation in Onigashima. But the USE forces don’t yet know that we still have several ‘Punishments’ available. It is for that reason they are making such a cocksure advance. They believe that we have no more options available to us. …Once our enemy learns we have yet more ‘Punishments’, and that they are aimed at every country—there will be room for negotiation.”

“…I see.”

“Gentlemen, this next part is your job. Armed with the authority of ‘Punishment’, make the USE army withdraw from our nations!”

“Yes!”

Starting with General Areus, all the officers present saluted me.

“Now go! For Tasan Elphegort!”

“Long live Führer Sudou!”

.

--After the meeting had ended, I took a brief rest in my quarters.

Generally it wasn’t a good idea to stand by the window. There was always the chance of being targeted by an enemy sniper.

Go ahead and kill me, if you can.

I began to gaze at the scenery outside without much hesitation. The windows on the opposite building, its roof, among the branches of the roadside trees—there was no silhouette of an assassin anywhere.

Despite the whole world being at war, it was quiet around Tasan headquarters. I could see an aging woman walking the path, pulling along a cart with a large barrel inside.

I returned my gaze to the inside of my room. I didn’t much care for excessive decoration. As long as I had the bare minimum of what I needed, that was enough for me.

Here there was only a desk, a chair, a bed for napping, several medals and photos pinned up on the wall, and—one large water tank.

At the bottom of the water tank a Ziz Tiama—a blue octopus—was sleeping soundly. Most of the time when visitors first came here, they would seem put off by the octopus. Frankly speaking, perhaps they were more put off by me, for keeping such a thing in my room.

This octopus was one that my mother had given me soon after I was born. I had given him the nickname of “Mr. Ziz”, and doted upon him. We had been together for over thirty years now. He was my oldest friend, and you could say we shared a common destiny.

As long as Mr. Ziz was alive, I would not die—Whenever I told anyone that, they would laugh, thinking I was joking.

There was only one person who took me seriously, without laughing.

--I’m sure that if he were still alive, my life would have taken a very different turn. I wouldn’t be in the position to rule a country like this—I would be living as one woman, as a wife…

What a foolish fantasy.

There’s nothing gained by looking back to the past, and I had no regrets about who I was now.    

I had to save the world.

This world filled with this “anger”.

…Even if I wasn’t the right person to do that.

I couldn’t go back now.

.

I realized there was some commotion going on outside, and once more returned to the window.

The guards were quarreling with someone out by the main gate.

When I looked closer, I saw that it was the same woman who had been pulling the cart before.

“—I’m telling you, I was told to bring this food in here!”

“We haven’t heard anything about that. And this place is closed to the public to begin with.”

“That’s none of my concern! If I don’t finish my work, I won’t get paid! Just let me through!”

It seemed the soldiers weren’t able to run the woman off very well, stupefied at her threatening attitude.

There was a knock on the door, and Colonel Polrio immediately entered. He had several documents in hand.

Before he could speak, I cut in with, “There’s a ruckus going on outside.”

“…I beg your pardon. It looks like some peasant woman trying to push her wares. –Would you like me to give the order to have her shot?”

“She may be a peasant, but we can’t afford to have you harming a citizen of Elphegort without cause. Have her leave politely…If they can’t even do that, then Tasan Elphegort’s soldiers must not be worth much.”

“—Of course. I will do as you ask.”

Colonel Polrio hurriedly left the room, leaving the documents on my desk.

--The populace was suffering from this prolonged war. We had a serious shortage of goods. And we couldn’t rely on aid from our allies.

And here to break this stalemate—

…Is, I suppose, ‘Punishment’.

I had told everyone earlier that I had no intention of using it right away.

Of course, there’s nothing I would prefer more than for all of this to be resolved without anyone being sacrificed.

But…the other me whispered in my heart.

.

“Everything must be purified.”

.

This brutal personality that slept within me. It had tormented me since I was a child.

I’d become mostly able to shut her out since becoming an adult, but--

It felt as though her voice was growing stronger lately.

.

The ruckus was still ongoing outside.

“That’s enough of your nonsense!”

I could hear the soldiers shouting. When I looked out the window they were aiming the machine guns that they carried at the woman.

And in no time at all, several gunshots rang out.

The woman didn’t seem to have been shot. Rather, I could see some faint sand clouds from the ground near her, apparently from warning shots.

“If you don’t want to get shot, leave now!”

Perhaps frightened by the soldiers’ threat, she turned around and then slowly started walking towards her cart.

What a waste of bullets.

I would have to punish them for that later with a pay cut.

Once the woman reached the cart, she didn’t immediately set out.

She put her hand on a cord tying down a sheet on top of the barrel there.

--I suddenly got a bad feeling.

Despite having just been threatened with a gun, the woman’s face bore a calm smile.

She unfastened the cord, and swiftly yanked off the sheet.

What immediately broke through the lid of the barrel and leaped out was—

…A—tiger!?

The guardsmen looked even more surprised than I was. Taking advantage of their immediate inaction, the tiger quickly pounced upon one of the soldiers.

“Aaaaugh!”

By the time the reserve guards had rushed out of the main building, hearing the screams, the tiger had already ripped the man’s throat out.

--At some point the woman had vanished from her place by the cart.

Everyone started to fire at the tiger all at once.

But the tiger ran to escape the rain of bullets, disappearing behind the building on the other side of the road.

“Catch it!”

Complying with their commanders’ order, all the guards headed in the direction the tiger had fled.

They went behind the building, and just as they were out of sight—

Again, the sound of gunshots rang out.

Just now…That didn’t sound like our military guns.

Immediately, a fewer number of soldiers came running back. They then hid behind the perimeter wall of the headquarters, and took up firing stances.

The troop leader blew the whistle to call in reinforcements.

“We’re under attack!”

At the same time, I could hear more firing from the enemy soldiers on the other side.

I immediately pulled away from the window and hid myself in a spot that couldn’t be seen from the outside.

And then I recalled a certain name to mind.

That tiger…I wonder if it’s Feng Li. A ghost of PN.

Then that woman was probably—a disguised Hel Jaakko.

Colonel Polrio sprinted into the room, accompanied by two subordinates.

“We’re under attack!”

“I know that! By who and how many?”

“Judging by their uniforms they’re likely from the United States of Maistia! As for how many…As far as we can tell at present, maybe ten-odd soldiers.”

“Maistia…Quite a feat, coming all the way here from across the ocean.”

It must have been an infiltration unit that came to Elphegort masquerading as peasants.

Still…How reckless. There’s no way these headquarters will fall to such a small number of people.

I heard the sound of my room’s windows violently shattering from enemy fire. Colonel Polrio let out a small wail and hid under my desk.

“Führer, this is too dangerous! We must move to the war council room!”

“That would be wise.”

I started to head for the doorway, crouching down.

“…Colonel Polrio.”

“Yes?”

“Take my water tank to the war council room.”

“Huh? But I can’t do that by myse—”

“What are those men cowering at your side here for?”

Even amid all this chaos, Mr. Ziz was peacefully drifting around in his tank, showing no sign of waking up.

What a carefree creature.

.

While we waited for the battle to end inside the war council room, I pondered on the true identity of our foes.

Why are former PN members with Maistia troops?

There was a justice organization known as the Dark Star Bureau in northern Levianta. This bureau had once created its own personal peace-keeping force separate from the police.

That was “Police Neutrality”—nicknamed “PN”.

After Levianta had broken out into civil war on account of Dark Star Bureau Director Gallerian Marlon’s excesses, PN was disbanded.

The whereabouts of its former members varied. Some were imprisoned, some were recruited into the World Police, some went to spend the rest of their years in their homelands—

I had once worked in PN myself.

…Though I was never an official member. On the surface, PN had the purpose of performing peacekeeping activities in each country as an alternative to the corrupt police, but behind the scenes it also carried out secret assassination jobs against any who would threaten the Dark Star Bureau—or rather, anyone who got in Gallerian’s way.

I had been entrusted with carrying out such “behind the scenes” tasks.

Feng Li, Hel Jaakko…They had been part of PN’s “public” face. For that reason, while I had heard of them, today was my first time ever laying eyes on them.

Perhaps I didn’t need to think too deeply about it. A great deal of time had passed since PN was disbanded. There was nothing particularly odd about anywhere its members ended up working.

--I was more proof of that than anyone.

Who could have imagined that little old Nemesis would be standing at the top of Elphegort? Me, who had once done nothing but make trouble with my friends in the slums of Aceid?

“…It’s quiet.”

At some point the sound of gunshots had faded away.

“Perhaps they’ve finished suppressing our foes,” Colonel Polrio suggested.

About ten party officers including myself were assembled in the council room, the safest place in headquarters.

“…Where is Major Encheri?”

It was then that I finally realized one of the officers was absent.

“Gone, now that you mention it. …Maybe he grabbed a gun and went out to join the fight. He’s quite the daring man, ha ha ha.”

I would have really preferred if General Areus had been joking. “I told him to think of his age and position. It’s not a commander’s job to be standing on the front lines.”

“True, he’ll be in for a scolding when he gets back.”

Suddenly, the door opened.

The man standing there was the very subject of discussion, Major Encheri. Everyone in the room turned their gaze to him at once.

I noticed immediately that he had sweat pouring from his temples. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with having been so late…That’s what I thought for a moment.

No…it’s not that.

General Areus seemed to notice something off about Major Encheri as well when he tried to approach him.

“You—”

But before General Areus could speak to him, Major Encheri pitched forward.

Thrust deep into his back—was a wide knife.

“--!?”

Everyone grasped the situation, and moved to hide behind the desk, drawing their guns.

However…our foe’s movements were just a little bit quicker.

The muzzle of a gun flashed from the other side of the doorway—several people were shot by the bullets flying from it.

“Gah!”

I peered at the fallen from the shadow of the desk.

They got…Gigaty and Grand. General Areus is…just barely alive.

He was lying on the spot, moaning in pain from a shot to his left leg.

Someone then stomped on his wounded leg.

“Haugh!”

Ignoring General Areus’ pitiable cries, the intruders drew closer to me and the others.

“Drop your guns and stand up with your hands in the air!” the man who appeared to be the leader shouted at where we were hidden.

Naturally, we had no intention of obeying his words.

I stood, and showed myself to our enemy—my gun at the ready.

At that signal, the others also stood and pointed their guns at the intruders.

There were less of them than I’d thought.

Only three.

They all hid their faces with cloth and goggles.

We’ve got seven people left. We’ve got superior numbers, but…

There was a clear difference in equipment between us and our foes.

All of the Tasan officers were wielding pistols for personal protection. By contrast, they were equipped with fully automatic rifles. And the vests they were wearing were, without a doubt, bulletproof.

Even if we exchange fire…they’d be the ones left in the end.

Their leader likely realized that.

He aimed the gun at me and declared, showing no sign of fear, “I’ll say it again. Drop your guns. If not, I’ll shoot Führer Sudou first.”

The officers all looked conflicted, but when Colonel Polrio threw down his gun in defeat, the others followed suit one by one.

And so—I was the only one among my allies who was still wielding a gun.

“You don’t know when to give up, do you Führer? Even you must see you have no hope of winning.”

The leader continued to aim his gun at me, the other two watching the captured officers menacingly.

“No.”

And yet, I had no intention of obeying him.

“I see, then you leave me no choice—you will die here, Nemesis.”

The man pulled the trigger without hesitation.

.

--But the bullet never actually left his machine gun.

What happened instead was an “unfortunate accident”

“Guuh…”

The man fell into a crouch, clutching his now blood-covered hand.

He couldn’t have imagined it.

--That his gun would explode the moment he pulled the trigger.

“Guess you weren’t so lucky, heh heh…” I smiled sardonically, but of course this…was not simple “bad luck”.

“Sir!”

One of his allies raced to him, and then pointed their machine gun at me.

“Oh, are you going to shoot next? Go ahead, try it. However…you’d better hope there’s not another ‘accident’.”

He moved to shoot me, angered by my provocation, but the leader stopped him.

“Don’t do it! This woman…did something to the gun.”

The leader took the gun from his comrade and carefully checked it with shaking hands.

“…As I thought. Something’s clinging to the inside of the bolt…Is this…ice?” Finally the man tossed the gun aside, and then glared at me through his goggles. “—You damned witch.”

“My my, don’t use such an anachronistic word. ‘Witches’—their existence was thoroughly debunked by the Dark Star Bureau long ago, you know.”

“…I know. I too was once a member of ‘PN’, after all.”

My heart faintly stirred at hearing that.

I once more looked at his wound.

That bloodied hand…the color of his skin…He was black.

This man…he can’t be…

While holding my gun in one hand, I walked closer to him.

His other comrade kept their machine gun trained on me, but there was no need to fear. Even if they fired, they would meet the same outcome as their leader.

I put my hand on his goggles and ripped them off.

Then I tore away the cloth covering him, and there—

Was a face I knew.

“—So, Bruno Zero…It is you.”

The unsavory organization, PN.

He had been its leader.

“It’s been a while, Nemesis.”

“…You’ve gotten old, Bruno.”

This was a reunion decades apart, but neither of us were smiling.

“Why are you with the Maistian army—Or rather, why are you attacking this place?”

“Do you really need to ask me that? I would think it’s obvious I came to kill you, the enemy of the United States of Maistia…the führer of Tasan Elphegort.”

“If that’s the case why didn’t you shoot me right away? You tried to get me to surrender at first.”

Bruno didn’t reply.

He simply continued to glare at me, silently.

Getting a hold on the situation, Colonel Polrio scooped up his gun and approached my side.

“Is this an acquaintance of yours, Führer?”

“Acquaintance…Yeah. You could say this man—Bruno, is the one to whom I owe my life.”

“My word, then—”

“Search him. You might find something.”

Colonel Polrio quickly seized Bruno, and then began to search his pockets.

As he did, the other officers grabbed Bruno’s comrades and called for reinforcements.

--It was apparent that the combatants who had attacked the main gate at the start were merely a diversion. Then a different unit comprised of Bruno and his allies snuck in while the guards were distracted and reach the council room…That was the gist of it.

“Führer. I found this—” Colonel Polrio handed me a sheet of paper once he had finished searching Bruno. “It looks like orders. It’s been written in code so I don’t know what it says…Shall I have it deciphered?”

“No need.”

I recognized that code.

“Using the same code that you did back in PN—You’ve gone senile, Bruno.”

Its contents…were details on the new weapon that we possessed, “Punishment”.

And also the order to destroy it.

So the information’s been leaked. But I only revealed the existence of the completed “Punishment” to the officers for the first time in the meeting earlier. So then—there’s a chance we have a spy amidst our military scientists.

I would have to look into that later.

First—I needed to decide on what to do with Bruno.

I drew closer to him, and put the muzzle of the pistol in my hand in the middle of his brow.

“Do you remember this gun, Bruno?”

“…Your ‘Naga Custom 44”.

“Yes…The revolver that ‘Postman’ gave me that day. The name of the sender was…’MASTER’.”

“…”

“If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be here now. The person who saved me when I was charged for the crime of sinking the S.S. Titanis and sentenced to be executed—was you.”

“…I regret doing it. You should have died back then.”

Even so, he had saved my life.

Because I—was the daughter of someone he loved.

I lowered the gun, and brought my face closer to look him right in the eyes.

“I will say it once more. I owe you my life. You saved me. And—you are the one who made me into what I am now.”

“So…You’re going to save me now? Is that what you’re about to say?”

I smiled at him.

“Oh no. It’s for that very reason—I’m going to kill you.”

I once more put the muzzle against his brow, and quickly pulled the trigger.

And as the blood splash washed over my face, I felt satisfied down to my very core.

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[prettywordsyouleft]

Neighbourly

Summary: With a drip in your roof, you weren’t going to get any sleep if you stayed in your apartment. It was a good thing you had Jae as a neighbour who owed you a favour.

Pairing: Jae Park x reader

Genre: neighbours to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: So I have a drip in my roof and we’ve had a lot of rain lately. It means I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep as I suffer from misophonia, and this idea stems from waking up exhausted one morning after some heavy rain. Thankfully, I think I’ve solved my issue, now Y/N just needs to solve hers XD

Also, just want to thank @noona-clock because without B’s guidance over this, you probably wouldn’t be getting a DAY6 story today. Xxx

Word count: 3525

You convinced yourself everything was fine. Rolling onto your side, you composed yourself and asked for your slumber to come forth and take you into a peaceful dimension.

Instead, you heard it again.

Letting out a huff of air, you swapped to your other side more vigorously, trying to suppress the somewhat desperate expression now residing on your face.

You would sleep. You would get so much sleep that you were certain you would wake tomorrow fully rested.

It happened again, this time louder than before.

Who were you kidding; there would be no sleep within this predicament.

Sitting up, disgruntled, you glared up at your bedroom ceiling to the spot that seemed to be causing all the ruckus. With heavy rain falling endlessly from the heavens, of course, the roof in your apartment was leaking somewhere with the overflow. Although you didn’t have an actual leak yet, you could tell something was definitely dripping up in the ceiling. You had contacted your landlord earlier in the evening and he had promised someone would come over to clear out the gutters and look into the problem first thing on Monday morning. Given it was Friday night though, and rain was forecasted for the next day as well, you were already at the end of your tether.

You cursed your innate ‘gift’ to hear everything that happened around you.

Staring at the ceiling still, you wondered what you could do. The first thought you had was to shift out to your living room. Over the next ten minutes, you lugged your mattress off your bed and out into the small living space, knowing your tiny sofa just wouldn’t cut it. Once settled back on your bedding, you smiled forcibly and nodded to yourself slowly.

“Let’s get some sleep now,” you instructed your body and mind, closing your eyes and placing your hands over your waist lightly. A posture of peace and tranquillity. You would be slumbering in no time.

You could still hear the drip from out here.

You were laughing now at the ridiculous state of your frazzled mind. It was already closing in on midnight and you would be lucky if you caught the bare minimum of needed rest to function tomorrow. You would have to cancel brunch with your friends in order to return to a decent human after all of this.

But what could you do in the interim?

Glancing around your darkened apartment, you groaned heavily. The rain was too much to travel out in this late at night, and you thought that the constant lashing on the roof above would ease your mind from hearing the dripping pipe within the ceiling. Of course, being someone highly sensitive to sounds meant even if you didn’t want to, your brain was one step ahead of you and focusing solely on the dripping. Exclaiming how clever it was to decipher such a sound with the din outside.

For the umpteenth time in your life, you cursed how easy it was for you to process sounds faster and more precisely than others.

For the next hour, you played games on your phone since you were now wide awake. You caught up on Instagram stories and read a couple of updated fan-fictions. After that, you brewed one of your favourite teas, hoping with the calm aroma, your over-stimulated mind would fall asleep, dripping sound or not.

You were in front of your door twenty minutes later, contemplating an offer your neighbour had once given you.

“If you ever need anything, just knock on my door, Y/N. You’ve helped me out by letting me stay here this week; I’ll gladly return the favour at any time.”

His words played over in your mind as you stood there wrapped up in your blanket, hand half-raised for your front door handle. Jae’s apartment was across the hall from yours and would use a different gutter system than the one attached to yours. You were certain his home would be free from the incessant dripping right now and that was rather appealing.

But was it acceptable to knock on Jae’s door at this time? Surely this hour was out of the jurisdiction of being a friendly neighbour, right? You knew if Jae knocked on your door right now, he wouldn’t unless it was important. And you would no doubt be all too accommodating.

This was kind of important, and so you believed you should at least try.

Steeling yourself for the impending interaction, you placed a smile onto your lips, only to remove it. You needed to look as desperate as you felt. With this thought at the forefront of your mind, you stepped out of your door and over to his, knocking three times on it.

Your usual amount of knocks, of course.

Waiting for a minute, nothing seemed to happen. Resigned, you heaved your blanketing around for the dejected trek back into the dripping symphony within your roof.

“Y/N?” a voice called out sleepily and you whipped around, unbalanced within your blanket burrito. Jae’s eyes flashed open as he reached out to steady you, blinking slowly when you were stable again. “What are you… and like this… is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you started, widening your eyes in what you hoped would show just how distraught you were.

Because you were beyond all rationale now.

“My roof has a leak and I’ve tried to sleep but it just won’t stop dripping and-”

Jae swung his door open wider, padding back inside. You wondered if he was about to shut the door over your ridiculous predicament, yet it remained open and you waited to see what would happen next. He reappeared, scratching at the back of his head in confusion. “Are you coming in?”

“Oh, that was you inviting me in, right,” you babbled and waddled into his home with your array of blanket ends dragging on the ground. Stepping into his small living area, you eyed the sofa in relief. “Thank you, I’ll just take the sofa and-”

“You nursed me for an entire week when I was so sick and my heating went out, do you really think I’m going to let you crash on my sofa?!”

You blushed at his memory and shrugged lightly. “I’m not fussed, honestly.”

“I am, you look like you’re about to strangle something if you don’t get any sleep. I’ll take the sofa, and you can have my bed.”

“Are you sure?”

Jae nodded firmly, prodding you and all of your blanket into his room. Taking his top blanket off the bed, he then gestured for you to lay down, wishing you a restful sleep and closed the door.

You thought it would take some time to fall asleep. After all, you had been so wired up until this point. However, as soon as you were comfortably arranged under your blanket, sleep finally reached out for you and took you off into a deep dream state.

So deep, that you didn’t feel the bed dip when Jae climbed onto it in his own sleepy stupor, nor were you bothered when you rolled into him and felt the warmth of lying next to another person. In fact, you relished in it, burying in deeper and sleeping soundly until the light of the morning infiltrated the room and you had finally gained sufficient hours of sleep.

And then you became aware.

How, when a single dripping sound had almost driven you to a complete meltdown, had you not woken up to Jae climbing into bed with you?! Why was he here anyway? Was the sofa too cold? Did something happen? Your mind raced with multiple scenarios and the longer you contemplated them, the further you became aware of other things around you. Like the arm Jae had slung over your waist loosely and how you hadn’t yet moved it away.

Glancing down at his limb, you chewed on your bottom lip thoughtfully. Should you disturb him? After all, it was a little inappropriate even if you were friendly, to be sleeping this intimately with your neighbour. Yet, you hadn’t been held like this in some time, and a large part of you was kind of enjoying it. Jae’s warmth comforted you and his even breathing made you smile.

No, you couldn’t wake him up.

But what about breakfast? You were hungry by now and it wouldn’t be long until your stomach started to be vocal about it. You didn’t need the embarrassment of not only waking Jae up overnight but expecting breakfast as well.

You were a woman of standards! If anything, it would make sense for you to get up now, head home and make a delicious thank you breakfast and then bring a portion over for Jae. Could you simply look within his refrigerator instead and cook here? Jae would need to eat breakfast. You could just save the trip home and cook for him here.

For the two of you.

You blushed at the thought of doing something like that here.

You were neighbours though, and neighbours this close could make food for one another and not be offended. Or misconstrue sentiments like arms over waists and being in the same bed together.

Right?

It was already too late for logic, your body temperature clearly indicated how affected you were with Jae’s arm over you.

Now was the time to leave. To escape this heady experience where you fell in love with Jae over a drip in the roof and a fumbled, poorly constructed excuse from him about why he was sleeping beside you in the first place.

Life wasn’t a fairytale and you had slept all too well within Jae’s bed because you needed a cold dose of reality to put you in check.

Move, you willed yourself, and you shifted agonisingly slow from Jae’s slumbering side, gently lifting his arm off of you in the process. Before you were fully out from under him, Jae moved, curling the arm you had almost succeeded in escaping back around you and pulling you toward his warm body.

You held your breath, eyes wide when, “Don’t go yet,” tumbled from his lips.

“But I need to.”

“Why?” he mumbled, tightening his arm over you. He let out a deep breath, inhaling you in as he settled back into your side. “Whyyy?”

God, was he always this cute when half-asleep? You thought back to the time when you had looked after him. Jae had definitely been an adorable, albeit whiny patient. He would try to damper down his demands, yet you had fussed over him, making it easy for you to succumb to his whims. During that week, you had gotten to know him pretty well, and one thing that you remembered was his little mumbles whenever he was half-asleep. You had little conversations with him during those moments until he fell asleep, smiling the whole time at his little pouts and whines.

Right now though, he wasn’t sick and you needed to stop smiling.

“I have to go home.”

“No, stay.”

“But I’m hungry,” you continued and he sighed again.

“So eat with me.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed and you couldn’t help but let the small smile itching to cross your lips spread out. Jae nuzzled in again, content with your lack of a response. “Just ten more minutes.”

It didn’t make it to that time before Jae finally became alert. His grip around you loosened off and his posture changed. You realised the dream had come to an end and sat up quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you mentioned, smoothing down your bed hair. “I should have pushed you off. You’re surprised, right? I was too when I found you in here instead of on the sofa but-”

“I must’ve come in here after going to the bathroom,” he explained, though he was smiling.

You nodded all too quickly, reaching out for your blanket to pull off and go home. Back to the dripping and the clarity that would come within your own space.

Jae grabbed on, preventing your hasty escape. “Are you embarrassed?”

“Thank you for letting me stay over.”

“You are,” he commented, chuckling to himself.

It irked you. “Well, it’s not every morning that I expect to wake up in your arms, Jae.”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

“It was just a thing that happened since we were both sleepy and now that we’re…” you trailed off when he tilted his head to the side, his expression still bemused. You stared back at him until he nudged you.

“And now that we’re…?” he prompted, causing you to blink rapidly. He chuckled again. “If I knew you were this cute to wake up to every morning, I would do it more often.”

Excuse me?

You took in his expression properly, noticing behind the amusement, Jae actually looked like he was enjoying this. Not the teasing, well, he was having his fun. But holding you had meant something more than coincidence. You weren’t some other girl he was dreaming of whilst he held you.

It dawned on you that when he was talking to you before, when he stopped you from leaving; it was because he knew it was you.

And he didn’t want it to end either.

Jae got up as you sat there reeling from your discovery, leaving you sitting in his bed as he departed the room. Only to stick his head around the threshold a moment later. “Didn’t you say you were hungry?”

Leaping out from the bed, you ensured your pyjamas were straight before you stepped into the living room, now finding Jae in the kitchen preparing a simple breakfast. You silently joined him and soon you were both seated at his small table to eat. You had just taken a bite of your toast when Jae spoke again.

“Did you contact your landlord?”

You nodded, swallowing down your food before replying. “He said someone would come out Monday morning.”

“Where’s the drip?”

“Bedroom ceiling.”

Jae nodded softly, contemplating. He looked up at you and smiled. “You can stay here until it’s fixed.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t do that, I’ll just go home to my parents for the weekend,” you hurried to say and Jae shook his head.

“Why, you slept fine here last night. Don’t they live like an hour away?”

You didn’t want to inform him of just how well you had slept. You were convinced it was driven from pure exhaustion and not because he somehow wound up at your side during the night.

You wouldn’t let yourself believe in it being any other reason, for the remaining sanity you held onto.

“I can’t expect you to give up your bed for another night,” you told him and Jae chuckled.

“Two nights, and you gave up a whole lot more for me when I was sick.”

“You needed my help back then.”

“And now you need mine,” he pointed out, staring back at you.

You realised he wasn’t going to let up and decided to be straight-forward with him. “I don’t think it’s wise for me to stay again. It’s not that I don’t want to, I appreciate your offer-”

“But?” he interjected and you tried to smile.

“I don’t want to draw conclusions in the wrong way.”

“Like what?” He now leaned his head on a hand, the ghost of a smile licking at the corners of his lips. Was he really fighting back the urge to laugh right now?

Blushing, you glanced away. “It was nice, this morning was. But it can’t happen again.”

“Why not?”

Your head snapped back in his direction and he was smiling now. It was charming and you soaked it in like the love fool you were becoming. Blinking slowly, you then shook off the effect and squared your shoulders. “We’re neighbours.”

“That we are.”

“It would be inappropriate if something happened again.”

“Like me holding you?”

“Must you be so blatant about it?!” you hissed and he finally laughed, nodding once.

“I need to since you’re so blind to my advances otherwise,” Jae announced, folding his arms over his chest. He smirked before continuing. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I won’t pressure you into staying again even if it is the most convenient. And whilst it was an honest sleep-driven mistake that I came back to my bedroom overnight, I’m not ashamed of my actions. You clearly were comfortable with it, heck I think you even liked it more than you’re letting on.”

Your cheeks flamed with obvious colour.

“I just want you to know, it’s fine by me. Us being just neighbours. Or neighbours that share the bed when in a predicament.”

“Or?” you continued, sensing the rest of his sentence that remained on the tip of his tongue. Jae studied you for a moment longer before he answered.

“Or we could be more than just neighbours and admit there’s something between us. At least, I think so.”

You couldn’t deny it; you had had a soft spot for Jae since he had been ill. But was that just it? Fellow comradeship that helped you get through the daily grind? No, you knew there was more to it. You wouldn’t just allow someone else to hold you like Jae had. And even if it had made you anxious initially, he was right.

You had liked it, a whole lot.

“I mean, even if you accept option number three, I can totally sleep on the sofa again tonight.”

“What, so you can stumble in during the night like you did?” you teased and Jae gaped at you dramatically.

“I’ll have you know I can be a gentleman. In fact, I didn’t cross the line even if I did end up climbing into bed with you.”

He had a point. And honestly, the longer you discussed it, the more at ease you were becoming.

It was also kind of giddying to know he liked you more than just a friend, and you were definitely fuelled on by this.

Besides, you were a grown adult. You could share a bed with Jae without doing anything crazy. And even if you did, well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, right?

You decided with how fast your heart started to thump in your chest that keeping things simple for now would be better. You needed a place to stay and Jae was offering you one.

And if it came with his warmth and arm over your body free of service, well, who were you to complain?

Smiling, you nodded. “I’ll stay, thank you.”

“Any stipulations?” he asked, grinning genuinely. It made you mirror his reaction, shaking your head a moment later. Jae leaned closer. “You’re sure about that?”

“Well, you’re right, there is no rush. But if you’re going to just end up coming back into your bed by habit in the middle of the night, you might as well just start out there. Besides, it’s your home, and I’m your guest. I am happy to go with whatever works best.”

“How does a pre-ritual before bed sound then?” he wondered and you frowned at his suggestion. Jae laughed at your reaction and pointed to the sofa he had slept on last night. “We could start there together. Watch a movie or two, eat popcorn, and just enjoy a rainy night in. And then when it comes to bedtime, we can decide what we’re comfortable with then.”

You relaxed, nodding in agreement. Eying the dismal world outside his apartment window, you then turned back to Jae. “What are you doing today?”

“Nothing much with all this rain, why?”

“Should we start the ritual now? Today’s the perfect day for a movie marathon.”

“Is this when I find out whether our tastes in cinematic replay match or not?”

You giggled. “It’s an important thing to discover!”

“You’re on.”

“I’ll just go home and get changed and then come back with supplies. Can’t have it be just only your movies that we watch.”

Jae agreed heartily and with breakfast now finished, you got up, heading to the door of his apartment. He followed you, and you turned to smile at him before reaching for the handle. Just as you were about to open it, he took a hold of your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

He hesitated before smiling at you. “You’re beautiful when you first wake up in the morning.”

Not knowing what to say, you tried not to smile too wide or blush too much, gave his hand a squeeze before you stepped out and over to your own apartment. Taking a moment to regulate your breathing, you bit your lip to suppress the squeal that rose up in your throat, in case Jae was still by his door and heard you. Pushing away from your door, you went into your bedroom, glancing up at the affected area. You listened for the sound of the drip and when you heard it, your smile grew.

You had a lot to thank the rain for.

_________________

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[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 12: The Return

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The gang returns to New York with a well-earned victory under their belts. But that means Nadya has to face Kamilah, and she isn't quite sure she knows how to feel just yet.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Nadya leans on the rail with a wistful sigh. Takes a moment and just… lets herself enjoy the peace of being at peace. No memories haunting her behind her eyelids, no immediate danger… at least none she can see right in front of her.

No, the only thing in front of her is New Orleans. The French Quarter spread out for blocks around her in vibrant colors going pale against the purpling sky. It’ll be dawn soon.

Did she sigh already? Well… no harm in another one.

Taylor’s learned his lesson in sneaking up on her. Why else would he knock on the door leading up to the roof instead of taking advantage of one final attempt to startle her silly?

He clicks his tongue with a wry look. “Careful now, that sigh right there, that’s trouble. Means you’re falling in love with this place and you won’t ever wanna leave.”

Nadya can’t help it that she laughs.

“Are you trying to sound like Garrus?” It sounds like something the fae would say, actually.

“No, and frankly you don’t want to hear my Garrus impersonation,” he hesitates; waits for Nadya’s little go-ahead of a nod before joining her overlooking the city as it begins to put itself to sleep, “it’s not very good. My Ivy on the other hand…”

Their laughter is soft and polite. They wouldn’t dare jostle the world below.

“I mean, when I went off to college I had dreams of road trips on spring break, summers spent with one program or another. New Orleans was always on my list.”

“And did she live up to the hype?”

Now how exactly is Nadya supposed to answer that honestly? “Well college-aged me probably wouldn’t have been hanging around the Graveyard Shift, that’s all I’ll say.”

“Nadya, babe, you have got to stop being a hard mood,” Taylor places a hand to his chest, “my little empath heart just can’t take much more of it.”

She shoves him (gently) and their laugh is a little less awkward the second time around. Probably because he is, indeed, an empath. And he gets exactly what she’s feeling right now.

Longing — exhaustion — trepidation — to name a few.

He nudges her shoulder with his own. “You’ll have to come back when everything’s fixed on your end; see the city for real, you know? Not just all the bad things.”

Not like she goes searching for the bad things, thanks. They just kind of… happen dangerously close in her proximity. “I’d like that. Lil’ too, for sure.”

“Oh, for sure. Though I have a feeling her and Ivy together might be a bit more trouble than Nik’ll want to deal with.”

And on that Nadya can most certainly agree. Not that she does so with words. Strangely she doesn’t feel much like talking right now. Not-so-strangely, Taylor doesn’t either. So they lean in mutual silence and watch the streets below. People going through the motions; living their lives.

Lives far less strange than theirs.

The blue of the dawn is just starting to bleed orange when he finally speaks again.

“You’re not used to winning the day, are you?” She isn’t surprised in the least to look and see that strange iridescence back in his irises.

“I don’t have enough coffee in me to answer a question like that,” which — that’s her answer; but Taylor definitely isn’t taking it, “I mean… back when all this stuff started; we won then, I think. Adrian was exonerated and Jax joined the Council and Vega wasn’t trying to kill me anymore —”

Taylor holds up a finger. “Wait — like the missing Senator, that Vega?”

“You knew him?”

“Uh, Vee and our friend Kristin lived up there together. Wait a second—he was a vam— no… that’s not the point. Sorry, please continue.”

God, is that how I look to other people, Nadya wonders; but it’s humbling to see somehow.

“Anyway… I thought everything turned out for the better, and for a while it was better. But now that I think about it…” Gaius, Jameson, the Trinity; all of them lurking just on the other side of the two-way glass. Waiting for the time to strike and take her happiness away; to pluck memories from her she never asked for all in pursuit of some epic fantasy-level world conquering.

If the fight wasn’t over, did that still count as a victory?

“And you’re left wondering if this is the same deal. If you’ve really won, or if there’s more stuff—worse stuff—just out of sight.” Taylor finishes for her. Still a little weird and possibly more akin to mind-reading than the half-fae originally led her to believe, but for the moment she’s glad to not have to say it.

“Yeah, exactly.”

His hand comes to rest over Nadya’s on the railing. He’s warmer than he should be and the sun’s got nothing to do with it. Likely his weirdness is helped by touch, too. Which Taylor all but confirms aloud when a sudden but not unwelcome ease relaxes the tension she didn’t know she’d gathered in her shoulders.

“I can’t offer any answers, and I don’t think I’d want to. With my luck I’d be wrong and you’d hate me forever.” He’s joking but Nadya still rolls her eyes and shakes her head for it.

“But I can say that no matter what happens? You’ll always have friends here to call up if needed.”

What is she supposed to say to something so sincere? “Same to you, Taylor, same to you.”

A sleek black car with tinted windows pulls around the corner and onto their lonely street to park right in front of the bar.

Looks like their ride is here.

Kamilah isn’t waiting for them when the plane pulls into the nice and shady hangar. Nadya tells herself she isn’t surprised by this… but she’s trying not to tell herself mostly-truths lately either. Luckily she’s still too exhausted (and she’s pretty sure she only got about half an hour’s nap in the entire time they were in New Orleans) to make much of a fuss about it.

In fact, Nadya barely remembers sending a text off before she and Lily both are being ushered into the back seat of one of Adrian’s company cars.

[TEXT]: back in NY and miss you like crazy. can we plz talk?? [TEXT]: its nadia

And its the most dreamless, dead-to-the-world-est sleep she knew she needed but didn’t know how to get. Staying awake for near-days and going through every emotion under the sun and also dealing with a high-stakes pursuit weren’t exactly on her list of viable solutions to her sleeping troubles.

Ergo the point of all this — no one is allowed to think her anything less than totally justified when Nadya wakes up in her own bed, in her own bedroom, sometime well after sunset and thinks for even the smallest second that everything was just a dream. She knows logically that it wasn’t… but still.

Totally justified.

When her eyes adjust to the lack of light Nadya realizes she’s not alone. There’s a figure sitting on the edge of her bed nearest the window, away from the door. Giving her the chance to escape if she needs it; making sure she doesn’t feel trapped.

Only one person would do that.

She fumbles for her glasses on the nightstand but leaves her bedside lamp untouched. Can’t shake the feeling like if she does turn the lights on then Kamilah will vanish. This is better for them both.

“Hi.”

Something moves near her head; Nadya leans back to see the woman pulling her fingertips away from where they had been combing through her hair gently. She wants it back so much she aches from the loss of them.

“Hello,” replies Kamilah; sounding awfully breathless for a woman who doesn’t need to breathe, “did you rest well? You… seemed to need it.”

Probably not what she meant to ask judging by the way the neon signs from across the street illuminate her in postmodern beauty. It’s okay though — Nadya isn’t sure she has the courage yet to say what really needs saying.

“When did you get here…?”

“Shortly after your return. Oh, Lily wished for you to know she’s left for the evening. She didn’t leave a message as to why.”

So it’s just been Nadya and Kamilah in the apartment for at least the daylight hours. Alone; together. And not talking about their problems.

When Nadya sits up (in part to look at Kamilah better, in part to make sure she doesn’t fall back asleep on accident) the bed dips as Kamilah shifts back; makes to stand and leave her with all this twin-sized budget bed kit to herself. And because she can’t stand a thought so terrible Nadya reaches out and stops her with a hand on her arm.

“Kamilah.”

A long pause — then; “Yes, Nadya?”

“Why are you here?”

“You messaged me,” so Nadya of course fumbles for her phone and finds it charging under her pillow, “though I suppose I should have realized you were exhausted beyond recognition.”

“Why’s that?”

“You spelled your own name wrong.”

Upon further inspection yes, yes she did. “Glad you weren’t expecting some other disaster you’re dating also named Nadia…” That she chooses not to dwell on the fact that she may have very well used that word for the first time in the middle of their first fight is actually self-care.

Or — she doesn’t until Kamilah’s been quiet for an awfully long time.

“Uhm — I take that back, actually — what I meant was…”

“I won’t disagree.”

Only Kamilah Sayeed could look so perfect framed in the flickering lights of a discount electronics shop.

“But you’re my disaster.”

Nadya kisses her because every other time it’s been Kamilah who takes the lead, takes charge, takes her. This isn’t some attempt to switch that dynamic either (in fact Nadya’s very happy with it just the way it is) but what else is she supposed to do seeing all these vulnerable parts of such an invulnerable woman one right after the other?

But — no, she can’t fall into this. Fall into her. Not without talking. But holy mother of crap she doesn’t wanna do anything but moan at the lips soft on her cheeks, her chin, her throat…

“Kamilah.”

Nadya only has to say her name once. They both know how this works. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel the hesitance; the resistance before they part and she all but forces them to meet eye-to-eye. Nor does it mean that she doesn’t take just the tiniest bit of happiness from it.

When Nadya starts pulling away Kamilah holds on just a little bit tighter. Only for a moment; then its gone.

“We can’t not —” — talk about this.

“I know; I agree.”

And she’s got a whole speech planned out in bullet points; not even fully seated and she’s already buzzing to jump right into it. Until—

“I was uncertain and without control. I fell back on old habits to bring my life to a heel — but those were the wrong choices to make. They nearly cost me… something very important.”

Kamilah’s hand falls open on top of the bedspread and Nadya takes it for the offering it is. Their fingers slot together familiar and like nothing’s changed but this is different. This is talking about it; this is… this is Kamilah apologizing. “They nearly cost me you, Nadya.”

Now is not the time to go all red in the face and flustered. Nadya’s willpower is astounding frankly. “There was never a second where I doubted that you cared. Not about what I was going through, or what it was doing to… to everything in my life. But I think there was a part of me that didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to believe that you and… and the you I saw were —” — were the same person.

Kamilah’s thumb strokes along her knuckles slow and rhythmic. “My thoughts are the same. I am not fragments of a woman; a queen, different than a soldier, different than a killer, different than who I am today. I am all of those things and more. And perhaps still there are parts of myself I have not yet come to know.”

Nadya chances a look up while she listens, but it’s the words Kamilah doesn’t say that catch her by surprise. The ones about who that person she doesn’t know could be. And—god she hopes she’s not reading too much into this—who she could be that person with.

“I think I get it now.”

“And what would that be?”

She squeezes their hands until it hurts because she knows it’s probably the weight of a feather to someone like Kamilah.

“We were scared of the same thing and for the same reasons; you… and your past. But I wanted to know more. I—I wanted to talk about it, without thinking of how hard bringing up all of those bad memories might be for you.”

Kamilah purses her lips and offers a slow nod. “Insightful; and perhaps I was so insistent on trying to keep that knowledge from you that I did not stop to consider what… I was saying in withholding it.”

Now the question is… where do they go from here?

“So we work on that — we try and… understand what the other is doing when she…”

“Makes a mistake she instantly regrets?”

Nadya smiles, but it’s strained. “That’s half of the things I do anyway though.”

“You know my meaning in the context of this, Nadya.”

“Yeah, but that’s not my only problem.” Which isn’t the best word she could use but at the moment she’s not focusing so much on word choice as actual feelings. And Nadya… feels a problem. There’s a breath of a second where it feels like Kamilah might start to pull away, but it passes.

She thinks better of it. She tries to understand.

“You are amazing, Kamilah. You are this… super gorgeous, super smart, super old—in a good way I swear—and super experienced vampire. But it’s not a smart thing for us to—to ignore that.”

“I wasn’t under the impression we had been.”

This is more painful to admit than Nadya thought it was gonna be. There’s no turning back now though; no ‘Restart from Checkpoint’ or save to load.

And this is so so important. Nadya wants to follow through, and not just for the sake of them. She deserves it for herself. “Maybe you haven’t — but I have. I thought that was the only way we were gonna make this work. Only, if I ignore that then I’m ignoring the fact that you are always going to have a power over me. A physical one. You lashed out and…”

“And I could have hurt you.” That Kamilah’s hand tightens with hers is the literal definition of ironic but she knows it comes from a good place; the same place all that honesty was walled up inside now pouring out.

“Nadya, please tell me you know I would never have hurt you. I don’t think I could.”

“That’s not the point. The point is you were angry, and your first reaction was to try and scare me into running away.”

See, this is Nadya’s problem. There’s a reason her life is so organized — without all her colored pens and sticky notes and multiple tabs that always end up in the strangest places, she’s a literal human mess. Prone to rambling and impulsive actions that aren’t always good for her health; physical and emotional both.

She didn’t organize this part of her talk with Kamilah. She didn’t even know this part existed. And now it’s out there in the world without a label tacked on and… and…

“And I don’t think that’s something I’m quite… over, yet.”

Nadya trusts Kamilah still; she doesn’t flinch away when the woman’s free hand comes up to her cheek — thumbs away a tear she didn’t know was falling. She can separate the then from the now.

But at the end of the day her trust and the way she had felt betrayed that night… they weren’t mutually exclusive.

She turns her face into the lingering palm. When she exhales her breath rattles in her lungs.

“I miss you.”

Kamilah’s hand betrays her composed silence; the barest tremor. “I’m here, Nadya.”

Nadya who doesn’t want to pull back, never wanted to pull back… but what is she saying to herself if she doesn’t?

“I miss you,” she repeats, “and I still care about you — I don’t really see that changing any time soon. And I’ll forgive you, really—I will. I just need some time.”

I know there are no promises you’ll be there when I’m ready, or if you won’t have moved on, or if you can’t forgive me for not forgiving you, or for not understanding you, or for making you feel this way. But I feel this way too.

And in all the things she wants to say but doesn’t, Nadya’s left still and heartbroken. Completely by her own design.

The bed dips and Nadya lets her eyes flutter closed as Kamilah’s lips press to her forehead. Not so much a kiss as a touch; something sincere and solid and so so sad.

Kamilah commits the warmth and life of her to memory. Nadya dares to hope that some day they’ll have all of this again.

She has to. If anything deserves hope right now it’s them.

Finally — too soon, too damned soon — a whisper tickles at her hairline.

“I’ll be here.”

When she opens her eyes Nadya is alone.

Jax has a really good point; if the heat from Adrian’s industrial-grade blowtorch hadn’t been enough to melt the gold, then they probably didn’t need to worry about his sword scratching the stupid thing up in any way that didn’t lend to opening it.

Everyone still backs up a few paces for good measure. They’ve all seen him in action — and the man needs a wide berth.

Nadya closes her eyes and braces herself but she still isn’t prepared for the hollow screeching clang every time the sharpened steel collides with the surface of the Amulet. One—two—three.

He stops after three. Judging by the enraged determination in his eye though he’d keep going given the opportunity.

Lily throws her hands up before crossing out ‘ASSAULT BY KATANA’ on the transparent eraser board. “I’m calling it. This thing is a horcrux.”

“A what?” asks Adrian, but Nadya just gives him the now familiar “I’ll explain it later” wave-off. Because unless pop culture references were the secret puzzle to opening the Amulet of Nero they weren’t that important in the moment.

She pushes her glasses up and unsuccessfully stifles a yawn with the back of her hand. Brings her focus back to their list of attempts to crack open (literally) the case… all of which have failed miserably.

‘METALWORKING HAMMER’ ‘REGULAR HAMMER’ ‘BLOWTORCH’ ‘ASKING IT NICELY’ (Nadya’s idea) ‘OPEN SESAME’ (Maricruz’s idea) ‘ASSAULT BY KATANA’

Off to the left Lily’s circled ‘MISSING KEY??’ over and over in the corner and while they had all agreed to try and hold out on just not having found the right amount of physical force they might as well face it.

They’re running out of options.

Adrian clears his throat and stares hard enough at Nadya that the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Ahem, Nadya, could you…?”

“Oh — yes — sorry guys, my bad.”

When she pulls the cover back over the Amulet the difference is immediate. The tension leaves her friends’ shoulders; they sit a little less restless and their eyes are a little less bordering-vampish.

Nadya wasn’t the only one who had been content to write off the strange aura that had come over the vampires in Isadora de la Rosa’s booth as nothing more than trepidation for the inevitable. Now, however, they have to face the facts.

There’s something in the Amulet that draws vampires to it. Cadence had said so himself — when he talked about generations of vampire influence. It’s not enough to incite a war (about which Nadya was admittedly worried, and with good reason given their track record) but covering it was a noticeable benefit to rational thinking.

They only have one thing going for them right now; if they can’t open it then no one else can, either. Hopefully that includes the Trinity. Maybe it even includes Gaius. Who knows? They certainly don’t.

There are too many unknowns — and they’re starting to take a toll on everyone in one form or another.

Adrian begins to gather up the dozens of data graphs spread out in front of him. “With that, I think we’ve come to a natural stopping point for the evening.” And nobody disagrees.

While Nadya carefully wraps the Amulet back up to return it to the R&D vault, Lily leans on her elbows and watches.

“I take it we still haven’t heard from Cadence? What about calling up Izzy?”

If only she had good news to give. “Nope; and I already did. She definitely remembers feeling that weird magnetism to it before it was repossessed by Persephone but nothing beyond that that she knew of. Actually,” she throws a look over to Adrian, “she suggested one thing; witch-fire? Something like that.”

He seems hesitant to mull the idea over. But they were desperate enough to let Jax hit it repeatedly, so…

“I’ll look into a few contacts. That kind of magic should only be used sparingly and in dire cases.”

“Would this count?”

A beat. “Probably. We would have to run it by the Council, though.” Which kind of nulls even the idea. Since everyone had agreed not to tell the rest of the Council yet. Not only because of the Amulet’s potential.

Lester, Priya, the Baron — Nadya likes to try and see the best in people as much as possible but they don’t make it easy on her. None of them are certain who would, if it came down to it, side against Gaius for a second time.

Nothing is unlikely anymore.

Wow, their shortest-lived idea yet.

Nadya nods towards the vault for Lily to follow. ��As for the other thing — Kathy’s starting to get worried. I guess he left town a day after we did.” Which the Nighthunter had admitted wasn’t off-brand for Cadence. But the museum had let slip (which Nadya knows means ‘been bullied into admitting’) that he had been granted a leave of absence; very off-brand.

“The one thing he’s always had is that damn museum. No identity, no Izzy, and we both know I’m a recent development. He was a manic mess the first time that kind of dissociation happened.” The Nighthunter had kept her cool better than Nadya would have in her situation. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t worried ill.

“What if it’s worse this time,” even through the phone she couldn’t hide her concern; her fear, “what if he hurts himself? What if he hurts someone else?”

Hopefully they find him soon. But she’s met that strange group of people; the regulars at the Graveyard Shift. If anyone has the ability (and sheer force of stubborn will, to be honest) to find Cadence it’s them.

“I mean, if I went Jekyll and Hyde around a chick as crazy as that Trinity woman, I’d probably want to get away for my own health too.”

Lily’s comment doesn’t sit well with her; luckily at her admonishing look she at least looks apologetic. “You know what I mean.”

“I also know a little bit of what he’s going through.”

There’s an “ahem” behind them as Nadya spins the wheel on the vault. Adrian definitely has the look of someone who knows he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping but was anyway.

“Speaking of.”

Only… she’d rather not speak of it until it becomes a problem. “It’s fine,” she replies, and waves it off. That was what they’d agreed on for the time being, right? And there haven’t been any problems.

Turns out feeling the weight of relationship-burdened depression the moment you walk through your front door lends to a pretty heavy sleeping pattern. Like Nadya’s body doesn’t want her to do anything but try to get through the next day, and the next, and maybe… just maybe the one after that.

Adrian doesn’t seem immediately convinced. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” Which — he still doesn’t really get the concept but the verbal agreement is enough.

Once the lab is fully shut down they manage to pile together into the elevator. Jax thumbs at his phone, blows the hair out of his eyes just a little too close to Nadya’s ear for her liking. She swats him away because personal bubble.

“What’s the matter?”

“Eh, Espinoza wants —” But he catches himself with a look in Lily’s direction. “— something. She wants something. And I gotta… go get it.”

Nadya and Adrian just shake their heads and laugh at him while Lily pretends with absolutely no tact whatsoever not to know what he’s talking about. She even sticks her fingers in her ears like that’ll somehow stop her super vampire hearing.

Jax, somehow with even less tact, like negative tact, takes it as permission to lean and murmur on Nadya’s free side. “Apparently Lula got into the cake. So…”

“Weren’t there three?” Adrian hisses, surprised.

“You’ll get it when you meet her.”

Nadya reaches around and pats Jax’s chest awkwardly. “Good luck with that. Maybe try putting them in the passenger seat this time.”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying… third time’s the charm you know.”

When she gives Lily a nod in ‘all clear’ everyone knows she heard everything. But she’s just excited to know Maricruz is going as all-out as she possibly can, so who would be so heartless as to spoil the whole thing by just admitting the obvious?

Adrian lets them all off on the ground level and offers Nadya one last chance to go home early. “What do you pay her for if you keep giving her chances to not work?” And Jax raises a good point — too good of a point. She maybe shoves him in front of her with all her might, and he maybe stumbles. The world may never know. “Just saying — let me know next time there’s an opening.”

“I’ll be up in a sec. I just have to stake him first.”

She and Lily wave until the doors close. Yes, they live together and see each other every day. Yes, they recently defied death in New Orleans together. But its rare now that Nadya and Lily get a chance to unwind like they used to. So whenever it comes along they’re both there to indulge greedy and giggling.

“Mari’s really going all out with this party, huh?”

It’s a valiant effort but Lily doesn’t look so much humbly embarrassed as expectantly excited. “I think I’m in love, Nadi’,” she jumps the next few steps like hopscotch, “she was fully ready to get a bouncy castle.”

“How are they going to fit a bouncy castle in the Shadow Den?”

“Oh I didn’t say I let her. But she was planning on it, and isn’t that what true love is all about?”

Nadya tries not to falter. Key word being tries. And around anyone else she might do everything in her power not to draw attention to it but this is Lily. Who found her huddled up in bed hours after Kamilah’s farewell and called to cancel her own date to stay with her; to be there for her and give her all the hugs she desperately needed but didn’t know how to ask for.

She doesn’t need to pretend around that kind of love and friendship.

But before Nadya can apologize Lily starts up an air drum solo in front of her while they walk. “And winner for Most Insensitive Best Friend Ever is — drum roll…”

“You’re fine, Lil’.”

“I’m gushing about my life while you’re… not so hot.”

Nope, Nadya won’t have it. “You’re gonna gush because you have every right to gush, okay? You’ve been a vampire for a whole year. That’s super important. You survived Turning, became the digital fanged crusader, and it’s ten times more cool because you did it all without a brand. Jax and Adrian can’t say that. Heck… even Kamilah can’t.

“So if you want a Turning party, you’re gonna get a Turning party. I’m not the only one who thinks you’re worth celebrating.” They lace their fingers and Nadya squeezes. “Plus if Jax shows up with the third set of cakes to a canceled party I think he might flip his lid.”

Lily gives a dramatic little sniffle — pretends to wipe a nonexistent tear from her eye. “Please tell me you just memorized all that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be the speech to end all speeches.”

Together they play-shove all the way through the Raines Building atrium. Right before the revolving door Lily spins her around, takes both of their hands together and swings them gently.

“Do you want me to uninvite her? She probably doesn’t even care.”

“No — and even if we broke up, like, badly I wouldn’t want that. I’m just not that kind of person.”

“True, you’d probably invite them to Christmas dinner or something.”

She rolls her eyes at that and ignores it for her own sanity. “And for the record — as someone with experience in decoding Kamilah-isms, I think you surprised her. She admires strength, and Lily… you’re the strongest person I know.”

When they hug, like always, their glasses get jostled in the middle and the following laughter lightens both of their hearts. Lily makes her promise to add that last line to her speech (which inadvertently is a promise to write a speech, she’s guessing) and only when she’s out the doors and around the corner of the block does Nadya head back up to the office.

Adrian is leaning in his open doorway when she exits the elevator — Nadya slows her steps for a hesitant second before coming to realize he’s just having another one of his pensive moods. He’s been having them a lot lately. More and more since they returned from New Orleans.

This one looks different though. He’s not staring into space — he’s staring at her.

“What?” She finally yields, glancing at her boss over her shoulder while the computer boots up slow as a snail. “What’s that face for?”

Nadya nearly convinces herself he isn’t going to answer.

“It’s good to see you smiling, that’s all.” He leans out and squeezes her shoulder; something soft and friendly and so sweet her teeth ache from it. Before Adrian can pull away Nadya makes sure to return the gesture.

“It’s good to smile,” which is far more bleak than she would like, “you know something?”

Adrian pauses mid-step. “Hm?”

“It’s even better to mean it.”

#bloodbound #playchoices fanfiction #choices bb #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #adrian raines #jax matsuo #lily spencer #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[mischiefmaxed]

TASK TWO┊THE THIRD DEGREE.

the interviewer had said nothing about eating snacks during said interview. with her cheek addressed, courtesy of fletcher, and the continued go ahead through the entire screening process, max couldn't help feeling like a breeze. she sat back in the chair, feet up on the table, stuffing a rather large portion of a sweet pastry into her mouth, her eyes narrowed as she watched the gentleman in charge of this section of the operation prepare himself.

"are you nervous?" she asks, her voice a chorus of sweet tidings. "you don' need to be, mon ami. i'm an open book, me. the trouble you're goin' to have is shuttin' me up, oui?"

the man clears his throat. "could you get your feet off the table, please?"

"aw, when you ask so nicely."

max readjusts her position in her chair, removing her feet from the table with a graceful motion of her legs. she keeps her eyes on the man with rose in his cheeks and grins, choosing to instead lean on the table with her elbows, batting her eyelashes. "go on then," she murmurs after swallowing her treat. "ask away."

"yes, well then — your name is max, correct?"

"that it is, oui."

"and you're from?"

"a swamp in the south, if you ain' already noticed."

"specifically?"

"louisiana. you wan' me to be more specific?"

"ah, no, that'll do." the interviewer writes her answer down, and max continues to watch him without a break in her gaze. he'd be an easy pigeon, if she wasn't on her best behavior. it wouldn't be the best first impression to leave, nor a great start for fletcher if she decided to follow through on her games. he wanted her to be good, and so she would be.

for now.

"and uh, how would you describe yourself, max?"

the thief laughs and tilts her head, once again offering the man a flutter of lashes and an almost longing gaze. "how would you describe me, cher?"

"i— i don't think that's appropriate to the interview. please answer the question."

"fine fine. i would say... i'm sweet. very kind, an' carin'. always puttin' ot'ers needs befo' myself, non? very selfless like tha', me. i've also got the stamina of a—"

"fine, fine. that's fine. moving on."

pouting, max shrugs ever so softly and breaks off another piece of pastry. the interviewer writes again and max takes a second to eye up the room again. simple, neat. two exits via the door or the window. she hadn't heard many footsteps outside the room, but the shadows beneath the door from where she could see told her there was company beyond it. not too shabby, if she had anything to comment. her gear had been left in a box with a few guards. it wasn't a bad set up, really. "so, how many walkers have you killed?" the interviewer asks, startling when her eyes snap back to his. her grin returns, and she hums in a false yet believable thought.

"a fair few, if i'm rememberin' righ'. you gotta, in this day an' age. it's eat or be eaten." underneath the table, max lets her foot ever so lightly graze the man's shin. "you jus' do what you have to. an' i won' lie, i've gotten pretty at it."

"at killing walkers?"

"oui! what else?"

"well i — my next question is, how many people have you killed?"

perhaps it's the way her eyes darken only briefly before she's cheerful again, stuffing her mouth with the last of the pastry that makes the man at the other side of the table fidget. how many people had she killed at this point? honestly, hand on her heart, she could say that when she'd taken a life, it'd been for good reason. never had she picked out a group and decided that the night would be their last. there were good people left in the world, and she could recognize that. she never took from them more than she needed and she most certainly left them alone if didn't even have enough for themselves. groups with children, she left alone. just because the world really did have no honor among thieves any more, didn't mean she felt the same. 

but, her hands weren't exactly clean, either.

of course, there were times when men decided to test her, all of whom would never test anyone again. but, there'd been times when she simply... couldn't walk away. times when she'd stumble upon a group of men who suddenly wore crowns, deciding they ruled the land and all who would walk upon it. men who made the weak into play things. men who no longer saw fit to treat anyone, particularly women, as though they were human any more. 

so truth be told, max couldn't put a number to her kill count. 

"y'know, i don' t'ink it could be more than two," the thief finally hums, her demeanor never faltering, never reflecting the blatant lie she told. "i'm a woman in a man's world, oui? some men don' change an' i, well, it was eit'er me or them. an' i'm sittin' here, ain' i? wit' you." her foot drifts against the man's leg once more, and he quickly bows his head, scribbling away on his paper. to the recording device on the table between them, max sounded like nothing but a sweet, southern girl full of life.

for the man in the room — the poor thing could barely keep himself together.

"so are you searching for anyone?" he eventually asks, glancing up from the paper just enough to garner her reaction to the question. max shakes her head, scrunching her nose in a cute little smile.

"uh... no one at all?"

"mon ami, everyone i know an' love is dead. there ain' anyone fo' me to find." 

it was mostly the truth. fletcher didn't count. fletcher was more than something as simple as that. but the man nodding and writing didn't need to know that, and neither did anyone that would listen to the recording, either. 

she'd never show her weak spots again.

"so then, why are you here, max?" the interviewer continues. "why are you here?"

"i'm tired o' bein' alone," the thief coos, pouting her lips in the slighest, well aware of the specks of sugar still sitting on them. the urge to brush it away or lick her lips was out done by the way the other watched her speak. "tired o' feelin' like i can' lay down somewhere an' sleep. you ever get like tha', cher? you ever feel like you jus'... wan' to sleep somewhere nice, an' warm?"

"uh — anyway... i'll just put... right... ok and, would you consider yourself a team player?"

"oh, absolutely!" max jumps in her seat, clapping her hands together once in a performance filled with excitement. "i love workin' wit' people. i'm a people pleaser at heart. you need me to be part of a team, an' oh, you've got it."

"that's fine, max. i also need to know; are you able to make the best out of a bad situation?"

max laughs at that, her head tilting back with a laughter like a song. it's too sweet sounding to come from a mouth like hers, one that'd spew some form of vulgar sentence than anything beautiful. but it sounds nice all the same, and she winks for an added bit of spice. "it's a gift," she says with another giggle. "i can, an' will, adapt to mos' situations."

"so you could handle yourself in a crisis?"

with a smirk, the thief leans across the desk, making a point to have the man look her in the eyes. while her face is playfully, such is her tone of voice, there's a seriousness to the rest of her that simply makes the man sweat. "i am more than capable o' handlin' myself, cher. don' you worry abou' tha'."

and, while the man goes back to his notes, max settles back in her chair.

perhaps it's unfair to keep her skill set to herself. she'd promised fletcher, after all, that she'd do her best to behave herself. that'd she'd stay and do some good here. his annoying habit and need to help others had obviously made a mark here. and so, she supposed, she could do some good by proxy for him.

if he were the shield, then she would have to be the sword, wouldn't she? and god help anyone who attacks her shield.

"and um, i have to ask; what would you be willing to do to protect the people and things you care about?"

if she were to given an honest answer, it'd be a dark one. max had never been the sort to be heroic. it's not in her nature to do the right thing, per se. if someone wronged her love, she couldn't be the bigger person. she couldn't do a small amount of damage and walk away. no, she needed to destroy their very being, tear them down piece by piece, brick by brick. she liked the challenge of it, the way it came with something akin to therapy. she liked knocking down the strong who thought they were the scariest thing in the room. 

she liked to be, the scariest thing in the room.

"i'd do whatever i had to," she says in a voice like cotton candy. "whatever i had to do to make sure they were safe. i wan' people to feel like they're safe wit' me, protected."

"and you have the skills to do that?" "i do."

"in what way?"

"mon ami, you saw my t'ings, non? my bag, my toys. i'm a fighter, an' a real good one at tha'. you wan' me to prove it? let me spar wit' someone. put me ou' on walker patrol. i'm tellin' you, i don' go down easy, an' anythin' i go up agains' don' go home wit'out a mark."

"i... see. do you have any medical conditions—"

"non. i'm as healt'y as can be. you can ask the team at the clinic. now then— " max stands, using her hands against the table to give her a good and elegant lift to her feet. "i'm gettin' bored of all these questions an', believe me, you don' wan' to see how i like to kill the time... unless, o' course, you wan' me to show you some o' my ot'er skills?" she purrs.

"n-no! no, thank you. that will be all. i'll just uh... i'll just end the recording here."

#catastrophictask #( tasks. ) #( task two. )

[darkanachronism]

Keziah Mason Meets the Whateley’s

"Who 're yew an' what're yew doin' in my lab?"  Wilbur demanded, looking down at the old woman.

"Depends," she started, "on why you smell like Yuggoth."

~~~~~

What’s this, me posting writing on main?  More likely then you think.  Anyways have the Lovecraft crossover no one asked for. 

Wilbur had been preparing the shed for some time now.  He didn't have to yet, but he would eventually with Twin getting as big as it was.  

For now though, he just wanted a bit of space.  A little respite from his mother, from his brother.  From the Byhakee it had upstairs.

Just a quiet place to read, to write, to study.  

Admittedly it was a rather sad little makeshift lab, but it was his nonetheless.  The chairs and tables fit him, he barely had to stoop to get in the door, yes this was as comfortable as he could hope to get.  

Wilbur was just about to enter with another armful of books when he heard a crash from inside.

The crash, and accompanying string of curse words belonged to an old woman stumbling out of a corner, tripping over a pile of books and face planting onto the floor.

Keziah Mason has taken a wrong turn on her trip back to Arkham.  Something she immediately decided not to tell anyone about, in a rush or not this was an amateur mistake.  

She rolled onto her back and cussed again.  Being fairly certain she'd heard some bone or other make a noise it shouldn't.  And took in her surroundings, digging in the pockets of her robe for something to throw at whoever owned the place.  

The door creaked open and Keziah was staring down the barrel of a revolver.  

Fuck.

"Who 're yew an' what're yew doin' in my lab?"  Wilbur demanded, looking down at the old woman.  She looked harmless.  

So did lots of things.

Keziah blinked in surprise, trying to take in all of the massive figure that loomed above her, to place the unearthly stink that came off him, and come up with an answer to his questions all at once.  

"Depends," she started, "on why you smell like Yuggoth."

She managed two out of three, and to stall for time on the third. The gun lowered just a little, Wilbur's brows furrowing in surprise.  Not the answer he’d been expecting. Or for that matter one he’d accept.

"I’ll answer yew once yew answer me seein’ as I asked first an' I've got the gun."

No point in distracting himself.

"Both valid points.  I'm Keziah Mason, and I took a wrong turn.  Now you."  

Cryptic and sort of a non answer, but in certain circles her name preceded her, and in others bothering to explain that you were not just a common burglar but an fiendishly intelligent witch who could use her knowledge of advanced physics and arcane secrets to travel long distances via interdimensional shortcuts, well that sort of talk was just as likely to earn you a bullet as keeping quiet.  Even if the man towering above her could barely pass for human himself.  

" 's just how I smell is all."  He answered her first question.  "And I'm Wilbur Whateley."  She hadn’t asked for a name, but it seemed polite to give one.

Whateley, of course, everything clicked into place.

“Yog-Sothoth’s kid then?”  She asked quirking a wiry brow.  She’d expected more...Tentacles?  Maybe a tail or something.  Still, something around the eyes put her in mind of the fathomless space beyond spaces.  

The revolver dropped to Wilbur's side as he tried to puzzle through how to respond to being called out so casually.  He nodded.  Not sure what else to do.

"Help an old lady up would you?"  

Wilbur did, hauling Keziah rather artlessly to her feet, still baffled into silence.

"How'd yew know that?"

Keziah shrugged. “Your family’s been at this for a while.  Honestly I’m surprised things lined up."

"Yeah, guess et were a bit 've wurk on granpa's part."  Wilbur trailed off mumbling, scratching the back of his neck and looking around for something else to discuss.  The topic of his conception was awkward, he imagined that was one of the few things he had in common with any other teenager.

"Sorry, didn't catch that.  Tinnitus."  Keziah said, adding the explanation with a grimace.  It was a small price to pay for visiting The Court of course, but a deuced nuisance most of the time.  

"Uhh, Nuthin'."  Wilbur said, before changing the topic abruptly.

"Yew still didn’t explain why yer here."  

"Told you I took a wrong turn.”  She was trying to sound casual, but perhaps came off as a tiny bit defensive.  “Just a tiny miscalculation on my part.  We are in New England aren’t we?"

"Dunnich."

Keziah pulled a face and Wilbur laughed.

"Take et yew've visited before?"  

"Not if I can help it.  Is it still as painfully backwoods as it was in...1786?"  

Wilbur quirked a brow, sure, she looked old, but not that old.

"Nah, et's wurse."  

"You poor thing."  Keziah patted him on the arm, it was about all she could reach.

The condescension wasn't appreciated, nor was the physical contact, Wilbur pulled away from that, but since she evidently loathed Dunwich, he let it slide.

"Where were yew tryin' t' get then?"

"Arkham."

"That ain’t far,” Wilbur started helpfully.  “Yew culd take our horse, Long as yew return et."  

It’s not that he was a particularly generous man, he had no natural inclination to help a stranger out.  But it wasn’t as if he was planning to ride anywhere any time soon.

Keziah chuckled.  

"Thanks for the offer, but I can get there faster."  Keziah glanced around the makeshift magical laboratory, looking for something.  

"Do you have some graph paper I could borrow?"  She asked after a moment.  

"Uh, yeah I c-" Wilbur was cut off by a tentative knock on the half opened door.  

"Wilbur, dinner's rea-," Lavnia called out, opening the door as she did so.  Ordinarily she wouldn't but in like that, Wilbur had been so insistent on his privacy lately.  But he’d left it ajar, so she didn’t see any harm.

She paused mid step to stare. In what world did Wilbur have company?  And how had she missed the woman showing up in the first place.  

"Who's yer friend?" .

Wilbur looked between the two and stepped out of the way to make introductions.

"Uh, hi Ma, this is-"

"Keziah Mason.  One of Nyarlathotep's Thousand Favoured."  she said, brushing past Wilbur and offering the other woman a hand to shake.  No need to be cagey about who she was now.  

Lavinia very quickly wiped her hands on her skirts before accepting, clearly flustered by the title drop.  

"I'm Lavinia Whateley, pleased t' meet yew."  

Wilbur wasn't half so impressed, actually he had to wonder what she did to earn the Crawling Chaos' attention.  Or if she wasn't just full of shit like so many magicians turned out to be.

 "I'm sure it's mutual.  Don't let you keep you from Dinner though, I was just about to leave."

"Yew dun half tew, ef yew dun want. I mean, yew culd stay fer diner ef yew'd lak.  We dun often have guests, 'specially 'un so destingished."  

Wilbur winced at his mother's gushing and hand wringing.  She was special enough in her own right that she shouldn't be tripping over herself to impress some witch who couldn’t even keep her angles right.  

Admittedly Wilbur’s understanding of interdimensional travel and the mathematics involved in them were shaky at best. But he could make an educated guess as to what a wrong turn meant.  

Keziah considered the invitation, taking a quick look at each of the Whateley’s to guess at how much of an intrusion she’d be before answering.

“Why not, I don’t really need to be back until Sunday.”  She gave a casual shrug.

Lavinia positively beamed when the older woman accepted her invitation.  A reaction that made Keziah question the other woman’s sanity just a bit.  

“Well, house es this way ef yew tew want t’ follow me.  Sorry ‘bout the house bein’ in a state, et’s ain’t usually this much ‘ve a mess.”  Lavinia gestured for the other two to do just that, before backing out of the door way.  

Wilbur let Keziah go out ahead of him and locked up behind the trio.  

Dinner at the Whateley house was usually an awkward affair, consisting of strained attempts at small talk from Lavinia and increasingly successful attempts to avoid that small talk on Wilbur’s part.  So a third party was appreciated, and it really didn’t take much to set Keziah off.   

An idle question about how exactly she knew the Whateley’s from Lavinia prompted wild stories about Wilbur’s great great grandparents, questions about Yuggoth from Wilbur earned an even more energetic response.  All the while Keziah displayed the kind of table manners that startled even Wilbur.   

It was increasingly difficult to imagine the hunched old woman tearing into a drumstick with clawed hands and trying to explain the Dho Formula through a mouthful of chicken rubbing elbows with The Outer Gods, acting as a messenger for Nyarlathotep himself.  

But she did know things.  Gods did she know things.  His grandpa has known some and read some, and Wilbur had done his best with that meager tutelage and a plethora of crumbling books.  But Keziah, she rattled off facts and incantations and corrections to his magical theory like other people talked about the weather.   

The conversation was beyond Lavinia’s grasp, she nodded when she thought it was appropriate.  And was quickly forgotten by the other two.  She didn’t mind though.  It was a rare treat to see Wilbur so animated.   

Dinner ended with everyone in a good mood, Lavinia offered to clear up and let the other two retreat to Wilbur’s lab, Keziah still had to work out exactly where she’d gone wrong in her calculations earlier, and Wilbur was eager for a crash course traveling the space between spaces.

“Don’t worry kid, I’ll work slow so you can keep up.”  

The teasing earned her a sour look.  Even as Wilbur bent over the desk to see what she was working on.  

“I’m sure I’ll manage just fine, I’m sharper ‘en most folks.”

“So am I.”  

If Keziah made things a little unnecessarily complicated just to show off who could blame her.  Wilbur was a nice enough kid.  But she couldn’t let him think he was smart just because his dad knew absolutely everything there was to know.  

Still, she helped.  More than slaving over his books alone could.  And after some untold hours.  Keziah stood up, stretching and cracking her back and knuckles as she did.  

“I think that’s enough for the night.  I’ve got to get back to Arkham, and I really hate to travel when I’m tired.”  

Wilbur looked down at her with a frown.  

“S’pose ef yew’ve got tew.  Like ma said, yew can come back whenever yew like.  Jus’ use a door next time.”  

Keziah let out a low scoff and rolled her eyes.  “Absolutely not kid, doors are for people with no imagination.”  

She traced a quick sign in the air,  lines lingering that glowed a shade no human eyes could really appreciate, and without another word Keziah stepped through the corner of Wilbur’s laboratory and was presumably back in Arkham.  The space she just occupied tilting strangely before folding in and righting itself.  

Wilbur stared and wished he’d had his better eyes out to watch that.  Probably would have been quite impressive to see in five dimensions.

#Wilbur Whateley #Lavinia Whateley #The Dunwich Horror #Keziah Mason #Dreams In The Witch House #my writing #I don't know how much of my writing I'll post #but I may as well right

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 15: Acquaintance

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter fifteen: Acquaintance

Notes: I don’t normally do anything for Valentine’s Day, but I might write something for it this year. IDK since I have no ideas. It’s not my kind of day. But I thought it might be a fun challenge, so here we are. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It was a new kind of challenge for me. More on that later in the endnotes!

-~-

In truth, there had been no specific set of expectations placed upon the situation that they now found themselves in. none of them were entirely sure what they’d expected to find when they exited the house and walked along the path that led through the front lawn to the front gate that inclosed the small front yard, but it sure as hell hadn’t been what they found. In such trying times, that was one thing that was for certain.

Flames rained down from the sky as the intrepid group of devil hunters forged a path forwards up the street, remnants of a distant encounter of some sort that seemed to be a few blocks away. From this distance, all they could see was smoke and charred trees, all they could smell was the distinct sulfurous scent of the underworld; all they could feel was the burning heat that only fire left in its wake. looks of perplexion and mild amusement adorning their faces as they strode forward. Yes, something cataclysmic had certainly occurred during their time inside of Matier’s cozy abode. They hadn’t noticed any of this whatsoever. Whatever this was, it was eventful, and it might be the perfect distraction from the matter at hand.

But what had caused this incredible set of circumstances to occur in the first place? This entire situation was entirely irregular, to say the least. Even from the distance that they currently were from it, they could feel the change in the atmosphere. A great deal of power was being discharged in whatever battle was waging ahead of them, and they couldn’t pinpoint its origin. But perhaps the most incredible thing was that there didn’t seem to be any notable property damage. No, the encounter, whatever it was, seemed to be contained in some way. The entire little village that they found themselves in would have burned down by then if that wasn’t the case.

“So Vergil, you spent, what, literally forever in the underworld, right? You ever seen something like whatever this is?” Nico asked as she attempted to keep pace with the rest of the group. She was out of breath, and running wasn’t something that she did if she could avoid it, especially in a hot, humid climate like the one that they were in. That being said, she didn’t want to miss a second of the action if she could help it.

The devil slayer in blue glanced over at her, more or less neutral to the inquiry. Yes, he had indeed spent “literally forever” down there. There was no need to remind him. But he could only assume that the young woman had meant her comment in a non-malicious way. She had no reason to pick a fight with someone who could easily end her life. Perhaps it was just her misguided way of breaking the ice.

“Now that you mention it… no, I don’t believe that I have.” The reality of that realization suddenly dawned on Vergil as they forged a path forward. The Darkslayer drew his weapon and readied himself for a fight, unwilling to simply walk into what could possibly be a trap. Nico wouldn’t willingly walk them into one, but the situation could still be beyond her scope of expertise. And besides, having Yamato at the ready was probably be the best decision he could make when going up against an unfamiliar and more than likely deadly force. He wasn’t going to make it too easy on his opponent.

Dante shrugged, pulling his blade from his back in preparation for the battle that they were probably walking into. “Beats me! I’ve never seen anything quite like this, either. It’s kinda familiar, but not really, and I still can’t place what could be causing it.”

Much to their surprise, Nico snickered slightly at the statement. “Oh, believe me, your gonna see what’s causing. That’s why I came and got ya in the first place! I needed ya to see this for yourself. It’s pretty wild!”

“So am I the only one who wasn’t to know why the sky is on fire? Because I feel like that might be pretty important.” Nero said as he readied Blue Rose. It was the bare minimum of presumptive action that he could take against a possible sneak attack, and the last thing he wanted to do was get torn in half by some random demon. Not only would it be a lame way to die, but it would also keep him from finding out what the hell was going on.

“Yes, your quite right, Nero. The sky isn’t normally on fire. A rather astute observation, if I do say so myself. And it certainly doesn’t help me breathe any easier.” A familiar voice said as they passed him from behind, leaving nothing more than a blur or dark energy as they passed. Nero gave V an unamused look as he hovered past him, the shorter-haired man clearly not pleased that he had to run while V could simply float along the ground effortlessly. That wasn’t to say that he blamed him, though. If he has such an ability, Nero was certain that he too would abuse it in every possible way. Riding Punchline was by far one of the highlights of his day whenever he was afforded the opportunity.

As the group neared the trees, they caught sight of something that waylaid them slightly. Standing just to the side of their destination was a familiar face that Dante was positive that he hadn’t seen in far too long. A small dagger flew past Dante’s head and into the tree behind him as stepped forward, catching sight of the group of demons that had gathered around in a hopeless attempt at actually standing much of a chance against their opponent. But that wouldn’t do them any good. While she might not be quite as powerful as he was, Lucia was far from a pushover, and a few worthless Puia, Demonochorus, and Msira didn’t stand a chance against her. As if to prove his point, she threw a volley of blades at the last remaining wave of them, knocking them dead to the floor as she withdrew her curved blades from the remains of a Savage Golem that had made the fatal mistake of thinking it could take her on in close quarters combat.

Vergil raised an eyebrow as she approached them, noting the finer points of what little of her fighting style he’d be able to see. While he himself used smaller blades as a primary element of his fighting style, actually throwing them was another matter entirely. It took great skill to be able to hit your target so consistently, and to do so with such speed? She was rather impressive, wasn’t she? He wondered for a moment what he had expected her to do when he’d finally met her, but it seemed that whatever expectations he’d previously possessed had been subverted, even if he didn’t really know what those expectations were. It wasn’t every day that something like that happened.

The instant that the demon was dead and she had holstered her twin blades, Lucia jogged over to them, using her left hand to toss her long red braid over her shoulder as she came to a stop in front of Dante. Despite the fact that she’d just finished a battle, a pleasant, if not shy smile spread across her face. “Dante… Matier told me you’d come back around. What are you…”

She trailed off for a second as she caught sight of the rest of the group, noticing for the first time how many new people she’d never seen before were there, especially the ones with white hair. Her eyes drifted over to Vergil as he approached, V and Nero coming from behind their father and around to meet her. Was this the guardian that Dante had told them so much about? If so, they were somewhat surprised. For whatever reason, both Nero and V had collectively figured that she was an older woman like Matier. She didn’t’ seem significantly older than they were. Probably around Lady and Trish’s age, possibly even slightly younger. It was hard to say by just looking at her. What they could say, however, was that so far, she seemed far too nice to be one of Dante’s friends. After all, she hadn’t shot or stabbed him yet. What a welcome change of pace!

After a moment of staring in quiet confusion at Vergil, Lucia turned back towards Dante. She looked at the devil hunter in red for a second, her brow furrowing slightly as though she didn’t understand something. She tilted her head to one side, clearly considering something. A moment later she looked at Vergil again, this time stepping back to get a better look at both of them. And just like that, something clicked. 

“Oh… I see. That makes sense. Very interesting.” She turned her gaze towards Dante, folding her arms and she glared at him playfully. If she’s been closer, she might have even nudged him, but that was a longshot. “Why didn’t you tell me you were identical twins, Dante?! That’s incredible! You told me about your brother but…”

Lucia slowly stopped talking as she noticed that Vergil was folding his arms and turning to give his twin a dirty look, the younger of the two giving her a look as if to plead with her to stop talking. While the lovely redhead wasn’t privy to what was going on, she was smart enough to be able to tell that it was probably a complicated matter between her longtime friend and his twin brother, and that she didn’t want to get involved. If the tension alone was anything to go by, it might not end very well for her. Best to revisit that topic later when it was just her and Dante and the two of them were not in the same location. After all, she’d heard from down the grapevine that they didn’t always get along.

V peered around his father’s back, wrangling Shadow as he ended his use of the demonic feline. She was an invaluable asset, especially in regards to travel, but there was no reason to use her when they were standing still. Best to let her rest just in case things took a turn. Though going off of his experience with the young woman that they had just ran into, he couldn’t imagine that it would. From what he could tell, she seemed kind.

“Sorry about that. It’s not my business, is it? Forgive me.” Lucia blushed slightly, clearly embarrassed. She’d only been talking to him for a minute or two, and she’d already managed to find a way to get herself tongue-tied and into a situation that she didn’t particularly wish to be in. How did this always happen? “My name is Lucia. I’m one of the guardians of Vei Du Marlin. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay so far. Sorry for the wait.”

As if to protest against her polite statement, another loud explosion ricochet across the space behind them, this time the vibration it caused was enough to stagger them, nearly causing V to stumble and fall over due to the sheer force of it. Nero reached for his brother in an attempt to steady him, but the older of the two politely waved him off. There was no need. Thankfully he hadn’t actually fallen down. The problem was that V’s center of balance left much to be desired. Lucia noticed his unsteady state and gave him a concerned look, drawing attention from the rest of the group as she did so. V sighed quietly under his breath, cursing his entire equilibrium for being so easily swayed.

“I’m fine. Truly. It’s just that whatever that was threw me off.” V glanced back towards the source of the explosion before turning back to her, intreuged.” Normally I tend to notice strange things such as that a moment or so before they occur because I do have eyes and I can see them, but we have no visibility from where we currently are. As such, I can’t really brace myself for impact. And whatever small amount of foresight I tend to possess has seemingly abandoned me. It’s unfortunate, but I’ll manage.”

Lucia nodded, seeming to understand his plight. “Oh, I understand. That makes sense. My mother needs assistance when she walks these days as well. She’s elderly, you see. Your balance being a little off is absolutely understandable if you walk with a cane.”

V considered elaborating for a moment, but he couldn’t will himself to do so. For whatever reason, he found himself tongue-tied in a manner that was unfamiliar to him. It was rare that he couldn’t think of a single thing to say, yet here he was, at a total loss for words. He wanted to say that it was simply because of the fact that he didn’t know what to say to such a polite, understanding, and accommodating response, but there was a part of him that subconsciously registered that there was more to it than that. He just didn’t know how to put it into words. And that was exceedingly strange to him. Maybe he was just worn out from his long conversation with Nero, Dante, and Vergil?

“Nice meeting you, Lucia. I’m Nero. Dante’s nephew. The frigid jerk in the blue coat is my dad, Vergil. He’s not so bad once you get used to him.” Nero said politely, trying his best to break the strange tension that had formed between V and the young guardian. He’d never seen V look so dumbfounded and lost before in his life, and it was as amusing as it was deeply confusing and strange. But regardless, they needed to figure out what was going on here. “This one’s my brother. I swear, he normally talks more. Not a lot more, but still. It’s something.”

V seemed to catch onto the fact that he was, in fact, acting deeply strange. He cleared his throat, looking down at the ground for a moment as if doing so would clear his head somehow. Suddenly he felt incredibly embarrassed, and he couldn’t even find a place to start as to why. What the hell was wrong with him? “You can call me V. it’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucia. What seems to be the trouble?”

She smiled slightly, a pleasant look that was reflected in her eyes in a way that told him it was genuine and not artificial friendliness to help break the ice between them. She pointed towards the woods, shrugging slightly as an exasperated look crossed her face. Despite the fact that she’d seen what had happened, that didn’t mean that it made any more sense to her than it did to anyone else. “Your companion came to assist me. A strange, large demon attacked while I was dispatching the lesser ones, and he lured it over there. I’ve been too busy dealing with these ones to go and see what became of him, but the fire doesn’t seem good, does it?”

Nero glanced over in the direction of the woods. He had to agree with her. “No, it doesn’t seem very good, does it? We should probably go and check it out. Ya know, see if he need any help. How big was this demon?”

The red-haired guardian gestured with both of her hands before withdrawing her blades, something catching her eye behind them. She took a defensive stance, motioning with her head towards the woods on the other side of the street. “Massive. But I think we might have company on the way. It seems that all this commotion had attracted unwanted attention.” 

She gestured in the direction of the large precession of demons that were now charging them, their heads lowered and their horns positioned to strike. It was a group that consisted of several varieties of goat and Finis demons and, from what he could tell, there were about two dozen of them. Each variety was present and accounted for, and they seemed eager and willing to attack. That didn’t surprise the devil hunter in red in the slightest. They always had been in his experience, especially the damn goat demons. But that didn’t change anything. He’d faced them before, and he would face them again.

Dante chuckled slightly, remembering the first time that he’d faced a member of the goat clan. They were always a fun time, but he didn’t really have the opportunity at the moment to give them the time that he would have liked to. Right now wasn’t the best time to pick a fight with a giant overgrown flaming goat, but they were going to have to take them down nonetheless. And then they needed to figure out where Sirrus was and fast before things got out of hand. If nothing else, flaming debris falling from the sky might catch something on fire. And the last thing they needed was to be even partially responsible for yet another destroyed town. Enough was enough for one lifetime. Or at least one year… 

“Alright then, let’s take care of these posers and go see what’s got the big guy so riled up. Think we can do that before the entire neighborhood burns down?” Dante said playfully as they readied themselves to meet their opponents head-on. Each of his companions gave him an affirming nod, even Nico who had no intention of getting into this fight. She didn’t even have a weapon, but she was going to hang back and see what she could do to help. Maybe going to check on what was going on in the woods was a good idea? Regardless, they were ready to meet their opponents head-on, and as the foolish creatures charged them head-on, they decided to meet them in the middle.

The entire company of devil hunters surged forward, ready to take down these pathetic excuses for demons and get to the real challenge. The poor creatures wouldn’t live to regret the day that they stumbled across the entirety of their family. After all, descendants of Sparda didn’t suffer demons to live, and there were a lot of demons here asking for a good murdering. Not a single one was going to make it out of here alive if any of them had anything to say about it. Especially with the mood that Vergil was in today. That had been their first and last mistake.

-~-

Wow. I did all of this week’s writing in one night. What the hell is wrong with me? Anyway, Lucia is hard for me to write, so I hope I did okay! I’ve never written anything with her in it before, despite how much I love her! Head to the comments and recommend me some fics with her in it to read! I need to learn her mannerisms, although I think I might have gotten a few of them at least half right. Thanks for all the support, and I’ll see you all next week. Well, except for the little valentines day short that I might write for Saudade sometime soon, but you know what I mean XD

See you in the comments!

#V #Dante #Vergil #Nero #Lucia #Nico #Post Devil May Cry 5 #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #A03 FanFiction #Post Devil May Cry 5 Fanfiction #Hiraeth

[imastrangeone98]

Ancient Traditions

(A/N: well shit. Looks like it’s another Mando one shot! A commission by @lililemondesuyo for something anything gladiator au and this is what you get XD I know how you work buddy!! You’re always sending me spicy ideas XD)

WARNING: gladiator au - mentioned violence, not much tho. Sexy times ahead! Also some horrifically inaccurate history info on gladiators; I'll do the best I can with what info I can get from Wikipedia. I tried to make it sound a little more old timey, but it probably just came out weird XD

Mandalorian tag list: @kateb013

Din began to realize that he would never truly be able to wash all the blood out of his armor.

The banquet being hosted in his honor still raged outside in the Pit, but he remained in his cell, adamant on sharpening his gladius for the upcoming battles that he would surely face come morning.

Who would it be this time? He always dreaded the younger ones, the freshly arrived slaves, the tender-hearted prisoners who only seeked to return to whatever it was that they had before they lost it all.

Ordinarii like himself hardly had anyone left to call family. The most kinship they could feel was with each other- all of them orphans of family and country, tools for the Roman Empire's cruel amusement.

He wanted no part of it. But of course, as with all lives of slaves, what choice did he have?

A loud knock on his wooden cell door rudely interrupted his peaceful silence. It was pushed open, revealing the one person Din was hoping he wouldn't have to see that night.

Aelius. The editor. His master. For a man whose name meant "sun," he certainly didn't behave like one.

Except today. He had a bright smile on his face, and in his hands was a heavy chain.

...Shit.

"Ah, Din! My most valuable samnite! I am so pleased you are here!" he said.

Says the one who put me here, the gladiator thought bitterly. Samnite, retiarius, beastiarius... the names all meant the same thing.

Slave.

"As it is your final day as a gladiator, provided you win your final matches tomorrow..." He tugged the chain, and to Din's shock, a young woman with a heavy collar around her neck stumbled into the room. "I have a present for you! Consider it a retirement gift from an old friend." He patted her shoulder; Din could tell from the tightness in her muscles that she was fighting hard not to flinch. "Have fun~" And with that, he slammed the door on them, being sure to slide the lock firmly in place.

For a moment, neither side made a move.

Din studied her. She wasn't as young as he initially predicted: soft creases around her eyes spoke of torment and suffering; her body was hunched in on itself, clearly terrified beyond imagination. The rags on her body could barely be considered clothing, and her neck was chafed raw from the metal chains that bound it.

She was scared of him. For some odd reason, it made him sad.

"Who are you?" he finally asked, hoping to ease the uneasy tension in the room.

The woman flinched, but quickly regained herself. "I..." She swallowed hard. "I'm your... entertainment."

A shudder ran through him. His master owned sex slaves. He wasn't surprised, but it didn't make it any easier to process.

"I don't mean that," he said gently. "Your name? What is your name?"

She was silent for a while. Then in a quiet voice, she said, "Kyla. My name is Kyla."

"My name is Din." He gestured around his small cell. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I'm afraid this is about all I have."

"...Thank you." She carefully sat on the edge of his ragged cot, silently observing as he went back to sharpening his gladius.

Some time had passed, and his sword was about as sharp as he could make it. He moved on to polishing his shield.

"You didn't touch me."

He looked up. "I'm sorry?"

She gazed at him, soft eyes wide with an emotion he couldn't explain. "You didn't come near me. Others would have."

"You... were given to others?"

She shook her head. "No. Before this, I..." She quickly glanced around the room, sparing a few seconds at the door, before turning back to him. "I was from a place called England. I was a healer. When the empire invaded my town, I was put into slavery. Master Aelius bought me, and I was brought here."

Din had heard from some former soldiers that the empire had a plan ready to conquer a distant island.

So she's a victim too...

"...I came from a desert," he murmured, setting down his shield and moving to sit beside her. "My family was brought here against their will. I never saw them again. When I was young, I was sold here. I've been a gladiator ever since."

Slowly, Kyla reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be." He shrugged, as if he didn't have nightmares about it every time he went to sleep. "It's no one's fault but the empire's. Hopefully, by tomorrow, I'll be free of it all."

She leaned towards him. "You're ready to leave?"

"Yes. My retirement is at hand. I just need to deal with my fights for tomorrow, and I'll be free." He sighed, ran a hand through his messy hair. "Unless I die. But even that could be considered a blessing."

"I don't think so," she mused. "Not when you're so close to freedom. I've heard rumors about you, that you're the best in the empire. You're strong; I'm sure you can make it."

"And then what?" He was tired, so goddamn tired. "I have nothing, no one to return to. My country may as well be a dream, for all I can remember about it. And all of my friends are dead, or will be soon."

The tension had returned. Din didn't really know what to do to make it go away, and he wasn't sure if it would happen anytime soon.

See, this is why I like to be alone, he thought. You can't ruin conversations with nice people if you just avoid them outright.

A warm hand covered his. He flinched, only to find himself unable to pull away. On instinct, his body leaned into her warmth.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes soft with sincerity. "I wish we met under different circumstances. Maybe..." She scratched her head. In the candlelight of his cell, her face seemed awash in gold. "Maybe we could have been friends."

He stared at her, then at their entwined hands. He hadn't noticed how soft her skin was.

It hit him then. Aelius would want to make a spectacle out of him on his last day as a fighter. No doubt he would send the worst of the worst after him, all in the hopes of either providing a fantastic spectacle or a fantastic death. No matter how popular he was with the audience, if he didn't put on a good show, he was dead.

...The thought brought something out of him. Something he hadn't felt in years.

Want. The urge to leave behind something, anything, that would remind others that he had existed, that he had walked this earth, that he had a story and a name.

He squeezed Kyla's hand. "Perhaps."

They stared at each other. She reached out to brush back a lock of dark hair from his face. "You seem to be thinking of something."

"Yes." With a turn of his head, his lips were pressed to her palm.

"May I ask what about?" Her voice had dropped to a soft whisper, one meant for a lover.

"That I'll most likely die tomorrow," he said, reaching out to cup her cheek. "I... I want to leave evidence behind. Evidence that I existed."

Neither of them seemed to notice that as they spoke, their bodies were slowly drawn together, magnets to a pole.

"And how would you do that?" she murmured, with a voice as soothing as silk.

"You." He scooped her up and sat her on his lap. The size difference between them was noticeable, even like this. "I'll rough up that pretty neck of yours till sunrise."

She smiled at him, dragging her thumb across his cheek in small circles. "Well then, why don't you?"

A snarl tore itself from his throat, and without hesitation, he sunk his teeth into her skin, relishing the sweet gasp that escaped her lips. Indulgently licking at the marks, he adjusted them both so they laid on the cot, his body draped over hers as his hands leisurely explored her.

"Gods... look at you," he praised, his calloused hands leaving goosebumps along the path they took on her soft skin. "If anything could come close to perfection, it's you."

"Oh, hush." She playfully swatted him. "Don't anger the gods. Besides, have you even looked at yourself?"

"Gods know I don't have the time for such things." He ripped off the ragged sack of a dress and palmed her breasts, rolling a hard nipple between his digits, before skimming down to her slick cunt. "Youre so tiny..."

"Don't..." She gasped, fingers clenched tight around his threadbare blanket as he circled her clit with his index. "Don't tease!"

"Alright," he consented, slipping his finger inside her, stroking and savoring the feeling of her velvety walls. "Is this more to your liking?"

Out of her mouth tumbled the sweetest moan he had ever heard in his life. "There... Right there!"

He hummed. "Here?" With another finger added, he began to curl them inward, hungry for more of her noises.

And was rewarded with a loud, guttural cry. Her hips jerked upwards, and what could only be cum pushed out of her, coating his fingers, his wrists, his thighs. Out of curiosity, he brought his drenched hand to his lips, and began to lick the delectable nectar off his skin.

Kyla groaned, and buried her face in the side of his pillow. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red, and her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Are you alright?" he asked, rubbing her knee. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, not at all." She wiped the tears away and smiled at him. "It just... it felt so good."

Din couldn't stop the shit-eating grin from making an appearance, even if he wanted to. "Good."

After stroking her now stretched out hole, he withdrew his hand, much to her vocal displeasure. "Don't whine. I'll give you something better." As he spoke, he removed his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from its confines.

"Din, wait..."

He froze. "Yes?"

"Will you...?" She blushed, turning away from him briefly before looking back at him, eyes filled with what appeared to be... shame? "Will you be gentle? I... I haven't done this... before..."

He remembered; she was recently bought. He rubbed her thigh. "Of course. If it hurts, don't be afraid to tell me."

With that, and giving himself a few generous pumps, he lined himself up and pressed in, as slowly as he dared, hissing at the sheer tightness.

"Fuck," he cursed, hands scrabbling to find a solid hold on her body before gripping on her hips. "Fuck." Shooting stars soared across his eyelids, and his hands clenched into fists beside her head. "Are... are you alright?"

"Yes..." She reached up to cup his face with her hands. Fuck, she was so fucking soft. "You feel so good."

Growling, Din leaned down to sink his teeth into the crook of her shoulder, savoring the taste of her skin. "Can I...?"

"Yes." Kyla rolled her hips, urging his cock to sink in deeper in her tight warmth. "Just like this."

He didn't need any more convincing. His body launched itself into a slow rhythm, and he fought to keep it that way, rather than simply pounding into her.

But gods, was it difficult. Every inch of his body fought to throw away his inhibitions, and just take her the way he wanted.

As if she had magically read his mind, she gripped the back of his neck and yanked him forward, lips brushing against his ear. "You said you'd rough me up till sunrise, didn't you?" She gave him a sly smirk and tightened her walls around him, squeezing his cock in a tight vise. "Go ahead."

A primal snarl rumbled out of his throat, and he pulled out, the obscenely wet slap that came out enough to send a rush of heat up his spine. With a firm grip, he flipped her onto her stomach and slid back in, relishing the long moan she released.

The slick sounds of skin meeting skin filled the tiny room. Din slammed into her, over and over, driven to the point of insanity by the sheer desire of seeing her ruined, her pretty face flushed such a deep red, small hands scrabbling for purchase on his pathetic cot.

"You like this?" he moaned, leaning down so his chest brushed against her back. "You like being used like this? You dirty girl." He slapped her ass, and watched it bounce. "You want me to rough you up? I'll fucking rough you up." He bit down on her shoulder and ramped up his pace, hips violently meeting hers, hands gripping her thighs so tightly there was doubt there'd be bruises in the morning.

"Yes...!" Kyla cried, tossing him a look over her shoulder. "Use me!"

"Good girl." He grinned, and attacked her neck, lips and teeth clashing in a winning battle against her soft skin, leaving dark red marks and love bites that would soon bloom into dark purple flowers come sunrise.

White began to dance around the edges of his vision. He bit his lip, urging himself to hold on a little longer, just a little more.

"Oh, Din..." she gasped, clenching the blankets. "I... I'm going to...!"

"Cum," he ordered. Leaning down, he gave a few indulgent licks into her mouth. "Cum for me."

And she did. Clenching around him with a vise-like grip, hot cum splashed his lower abdomen, leaked out of the tight seal of his cock in her cunt, dripped onto the filthy floor in small puddles.

Fuck, she was so tight... so wet...

His vision blurred, and he let out a hoarse roar as he came, pumping load after load of his cum deep inside her womb.

A soft sigh escaped his lips when he noticed some of the thick liquid mixing with hers, spilling out of the sides. Unable to resist, he caught a few drops with a finger and brought it up to his mouth, relishing the taste of what could only be the finest nectar in all of earth, hell, maybe even the heavens above.

Kyla dropped onto the bed, clearly exhausted. Din merely grunted while he pulled out, the wet squelch following his movement. More cum leaked out of her, soiling the blankets.

"That won't do." He ran a finger up her folds, nudging some of the fluid back inside her.

"What...?" she gasped out, eyes blown wide and incoherent.

"That. Won't. Do." Leaning down, he ran the tip of his tongue up and down her sweet-smelling slit, rubbing her thighs when she began to shiver. "You're a messy one. Got to keep it inside, understand?"

Trembling, she gazed up at him with those wide, beautiful eyes. For a moment, she reminding him of Venus, goddess of love and beauty.

No, he realized. She's even more beautiful than that.

"I... I don't know if I can keep up...!"

"Yes, you can." His tone was absolute. He leaned down to kiss her, and he nearly came once more at the softness, the fullness of her lips, at the way her tongue grazed against his, urging him to tangle them together in an erotic dance.

"I promised you sunrise," he growled into her ear, slowly licking the shell of it and watching her shake. "I'll give you sunrise."

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A/N: filthy. That's all I have to say on this; it's filthy XD

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x oc #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #gladiator au