#he would just hold my hand and drag me to the deepest ends of his mental illness and for some reason i had to be the one to pick up the | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teecupangel · 11 months

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As ‘Desmond can steal/touch his ancestor when he’s Bleeding’ idea more or less can be seen as gen, I figured this absolutely AltDes version (as I sorta hinted on in the alternate POV) should have its own post instead.

The AltDes version has definitely been started by the wonderful @thedragonqueen1998

Oh, i just imagine Altair waiting for the spirit to return to him after the whole thing with the apple went down, only to never feel him again. Maybe he'd use the apple to get answers? Could defo lead to altdes if you want comfort. ^^

My reply:

Yeessssss. Let's end this with Altaïr finding a way to keep Desmond in his timeline and maybe a big scene of Desmond holding onto Altaïr's red sash for one last time before he dies and Altaïr just grabbing his hand while the Apple glows and dragging him to his timeline

===========================

From @thedragonqueen1998

oh, im just imagining Desmond going up to the Eye and he sees Altaïr standing there, with his back turned and he holds onto the sash before he puts his hand on the device. He doesnt know if hes screaming as theres only the burning pain, the intense heat, the pure whiteness, the.. feel of fine silk in his left hand.

Altaïr has made sure to keep the Apple on him, so that if the spirit returns he could hopefully anchor it. Maybe he could finally ask some questions without it dissapearing? But its been months. Where as the spirit visited every few days, theres been nothing now. Maybe he should finally put it to rest? Hide away the Apple from anyone seeking to use i-

The spirit, its back. He makes sure to make very slow moves to pull out the Apple while the spirit holds his sash.

He cant mess this up, it might be months if not years until he can get another chance to anchor Desmond to him. With the Apple in his hands he tries to link the spirit to him. To communicate with it. Thats when the screaming starts. Altaïr freezes, these arent just screams of pain, its a death call. Is this how it died? He desperatly wants to turn, to comfort the dying creature, but he cant risk it. The Apple says its 47% done with "uploading memory".

What that means, Altaïr does not know, but the Apple has never failed in granting him his wishes, though understanding the information is another matter. He doesnt know if its been seconds, minutes or hours listening to the horrid screams, to smelling burnt flesh, before they stop and the Apple says "Memory Transfer Complete. Starting Body Transfer. Body Damaged By 20%, Repairs Can Be Done. Proceed?" Repairs? Does it mean saving the spirit? If so, "Proceed".

===========================

Addition from me

Malik did not understand this entire ‘spirit’ business that Altaïr has built in his mind. He had never felt anything strange whenever he was with Altaïr. If anything, the bureau in Jerusalem felt more haunted than Altaïr himself but, even if Malik has no real concrete explanation to the disappearing cups and small items in Jerusalem’s bureau, he also wouldn’t be able to stop it from being concluded as being ‘I forgot where I put it’.

Nonetheless, Altaïr stresses that the spirit is real and his obsession with this spirit of his that is named Desmond was simply another facet of Altaïr’s personality at this point. It was his deepest secret, only told in confidence to Malik because he needed a ‘sounding board’ to talk over his theories and plans.

Malik would have suggested he get a cat but he feared that making Altaïr a cat owner would either make a very spoiled and fat cat or a neglected wild cat that would get its treats elsewhere while its owner forget its existence.

So he tried to be this quiet sounding board, even ready to simply look over the reports given to him as part of his duties as Altaïr’s Keeper when he starts to hear all these… tales of a time far beyond them, machineries that Altaïr explains but left Malik reeling and feeling quite foolish for not understanding, of this… Animus.

Malik had thought Altaïr had gone mad. That whatever power had driven Al Mualim mad when he held the Apple had taken hold of Altaïr by tempting him with what he desired more than power itself.

Knowledge…

And a connection beyond what mortals usually have.

Malik had never thought of Altaïr as being a romantic but he was a man who liked to make dramatic entrances and exits. Cyprus would be a testament to that and, really, it was just as well that Altaïr did not do anything too stupid when he went to Cyprus. (Although a temporary alliance with a Templar woman had been risky and Malik was just glad said woman had told Altaïr that she was leaving Levant to travel elsewhere.)

Malik didn’t want to deal with that kind of headache. Malik had been ready to tell Altaïr that perhaps the Apple had been faking it but then Altaïr showed him these… ‘post its’ that Desmond supposedly left and…

The materials themselves were nothing Malik had seen before. The words he used in English were strange but his Arabic was fluent.

And looks eerily like Altaïr’s, both in the way it was written and the words used.

Perhaps that was what made Altaïr snap.

The insinuation that this Desmond didn’t exist. That Altaïr had made up this person, a person who, from Altaïr’s own description and the little papers Malik had seen, looked and sounded like the kind of person that Altaïr would fall in love with.

Kind but as lonely as him, understanding of Altaïr’s own faults and still believing in him…

Malik had feared that Altaïr would do something drastic.

He had plans already written up and was about to start preparations in secret to keep Masyaf and the Brotherhood running while he tries to get into the bottom of this entire Desmond thing.

Altaïr was slowly unraveling because Desmond hadn’t been contacting him. Just quietly visiting, Altaïr had called them.

It felt like this was the prelude to something big in Malik’s eyes.

Make Altaïr desperate for any communication, make him desire to ‘hear’ from Desmond once more… Altaïr was primed to do something stupid and Malik believed that the perpetrator had to be that damn Apple.

So Malik went to Altaïr’s private studies to finally confront him and, if need be, knock him out so he could drag him away from the Apple.

But, when he got there, he found Altaïr holding an unconscious man in his arms.

A man wearing clothes that Malik had never seen before… And a right arm charred and black with golden lines lightly glowing underneath the cracks…

“Malik…”

Malik realized…

“I did it. I anchored Desmond to me.”

… that perhaps that spirit that has been tempting Altaïr this entire time had been one of the olden ones that had created the Apple itself.

===========================

And more ideas from @zero-saito and @thedragonqueen1998

From @thedragonqueen1998

@teecupangel oooh, thats so hood! Malik would be so suspicious of Desmond, thinking hes tricking or manipulating Altaïr, but also cant help but like him. How he makes Maliks tea exactly how he likes it, how he pushes Altaïr into taking breaks and how he treats the novices. How could a being that made the accursed Apple be so pure and good? Did it take the darkness within it and store it into the artifact? Or something else? The being, Desmond, talks very little of it. For what reason does he share such wonderous "future" ideas, but will not tell of where to find more artifacts, of their uses and purpose? Malik can only hope it is for a good reason.

From @zero-saito

@thedragonqueen1998 @teecupangel I love all of this ‘spam’ 😍 this is great!! Yes to suspicious Malik but also Desmond is so sweet he can’t be mad for long. Also altair finally calming down and stop simping over a ghost! Wait! Malik finding out that desmond was haunting the bureau and either asking for the stuff back or an explanation. Desmond having puppy eyes that break Malik like Kadar used to

From @thedragonqueen1998

@zero-saito god yes, Desmonds puppy eyes are lethal! And he feels so guilty cause his hoard didnt travel with him. And he cant help stealing more to build another. He's like a dragon, gotta hoard everything!

From @zero-saito

@thedragonqueen1998 he has to steal things from altair and Malik the old fashioned way but he might still be able to steal from ezio and Connor the usual way. He will miss his family mementos after all

From @thedragonqueen1998

@zero-saito oh, didnt think about him keeping his Bleeds. :O i cant really think of anything else to add though XD im out of ideas here.

===========================

I got you, guys XD

Desmond wasn’t sure how Altaïr had done it and Altaïr himself was still studying it but his reasoning for studying it was more on the side of making sure Desmond stayed anchored to him. Desmond was sure that there was no way for him to return to his time, not when Altaïr had taken him just as he was about to die, his last memory the sound of his own voice telling him in a robotic sounding tone that the Solar Flare has passed and that it was dispersing the remaining 10% of the shield.

Desmond didn’t know if dispersing the shield was even a good thing but he had fate in the Assassins (his friends) that they would figure something out if it didn’t.

Oh, and about Juno too.

But Desmond was going to ask Altaïr’s help on that front too once he was satisfied that Desmond wouldn’t be thrown out of his time at all.

Honestly…

Desmond was sure that only Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton would be able to do that anyway since it was highly possible the ones he could connect with were the only ones who could use the Apple that way.

Between the two, Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn’t even know it was an option because he would throw the Apple into the sea as soon as he received it, knowing the danger that it possessed.

Ezio wouldn’t even think about asking the Apple such things. He had always been wary of the Apple’s power and it took Machiavelli pushing him for weeks for him to even ask the Apple where Cesare was. So… yeah, Ezio was highly unlikely.

And…

Even if they do…

Desmond was sure he and Altaïr would end up trying to contact one another to find a way to bring Desmond back.

It would be nice to see Ezio or Ratonhnhaké:ton. To be able to talk to them and to tell them everything but…

Desmond wanted to stay in this time.

He wanted to stay with Altaïr.

So the moment he saw their backs as another Bleeding Episode hit him, he gave them a letter that explained his situation.

Desmond couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it before.

Not like there were any papers lying around that Desmond could use in any of the hideouts he’d been. They mostly kept everything in their laptops, computers and other gadgets. Any paper lying around would be important that Desmond couldn’t take or part of Shaun’s corkboard which he also couldn’t take unless he wanted Shaun to start slapping his hand like a mother batting her child’s hand before the child could take a cookie.

Here in Masyaf though…

Malik was okay giving him as many pieces of paper as he wished.

He knew Malik was still wary of him and Desmond wasn’t surprised.

Hell.

He’d be more surprised if Malik wasn’t wary of him at all.

Still, Desmond was pretty sure that he was slowly whittling Malik’s suspicion of him since he had been more than forthcoming about everything.

Also…

Malik did see the small treasure hoard that Altaïr’s (and Desmond’s) room had in the corner, filled with a lot of strange items that Desmond was more than happy to explain to Malik.

He would forever miss his hoard back in the 21st century but it was fine. He knew the others wouldn’t mind helping Desmond have a new one.

He… was still not sure if he should laugh or be offended that Malik had thought he was an Isu.

But that was fine.

Masyaf…

This place…

This time…

It was peaceful.

And he knew the pitfalls that would come.

Desmond was confident that Altaïr and Malik would listen to him once he explained it all.

But for now…

He just wants to relax for a bit.

And let himself be consumed by the peace and happiness he felt.

#unless an ask writes something like the pairing name or say ‘whatever pairing you want’ or harem #i always assume they meant it to be gen #anyway #no usual tags because #altdes

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mvrtaiswriting · 2 years

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Hello, handsome. x Trafalgar D. Law ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

(part 2)

hullo! as anticipated, here's the law piece I've been working on the past few days. i love every word - it all started as pure brain rot and ended up in.. this. i hope this will make up for my absence!

warnings: nsfw is implied but nothing more! spoiler free.

feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

It all started with an innocent invitation to Law's office a few weeks ago, to discuss the next steps of the alliance between the straw hats and the heart pirates and better define you mode of attack. Now you were in his ship, carefully hidden in the depth of the sea, making a mess on Law's desk.

His usually meticulously tidy paperwork was now everywhere - on the floor, under you. Some of it even got ripped but neither of you cared; you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves. The sexual tension was stronger than your survival instincts, and meetings to organise a war ended up with Law being inside you, making you his.

Casual meetings became a daily routine, and daily routines became midnight talkings. Both of your crews won't see you for days, whilst the two of you were simply tangled together in his bed or on the floor of his studio. Before you could even realise it, your little runaways for a quickie became hours spent together, cuddling each other and sharing your deepest thoughts.

Law was getting used to see you walk around his ship, wearing nothing but one of his shirt - everything about it felt just right. He often wondered why would you ever join the straw hat pirates; you didn't belong there. He was crazy about you, to the point where he was willing to try everything to make you stay - even if that mean being as reckless as your captain. Maybe, Law thought, if he could show you he could be a better leader, you would give up Luffy and his stupid dream and just sail the sea with him instead.

Wrapping his arm around you, Law made you brought you closer to him, letting your back rest against his bare chest. Snuggling his head between your neck and shoulders, he started leaving gentle kisses all around the area, the beard on his chin lightly tickling you.

"Hello handsome." you giggled, turning around to face him but still remaining in his arms. Dragging the blankets over both of you, you rested your head on his chest.

"Hello." he replied, a soft smile forming on his face.

It had been three days since the two of you hid in the ship. Staying under the sea somehow dilated time, with little to no light coming out from the little portholes. But he knew you eventually had to go back to the surface and come up with a good excuse for your absence. For now, however, he just wanted to savour this moment. He loved holding you in his arms, the way your bare skin touching his almost felt like a like an electric shock being directly sent through every nerve in his body.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, gently caressing your shoulders, letting his rough hands travel on your body.

"Like a baby." you reply proudly, kissing his chest and enjoying his soft attentions. The only thing Law managed to do in response was holding you tighter to him, striving for more closure. He wanted to feel you under his skin, so that he would have never had to let you go. Maybe the coziness of the ship could make you stay for longer.

When the two of you finally rejoined the crews, you noticed how every one looked at you suspiciously. Your little white lies and your undercover missions in the city weren't holding up as they used to.

"You know, maybe we should stop disappearing for a while." you suggested at one point, while the rest of the crew was asleep. You and Law were the only ones awake, strangely being on guard's shifts at the same time.

Law didn't say a word, lifting his head up to take a better look at the night sky. He was hoping to find an answer hidden amongst the stars, something that would give him enough courage to just spit it all out; how he felt towards you, what he thought about your stupid captain. Truth was, the stars never replied to Law's pleas - and so he kept silent. Your suggestion felt like a thousand dagger planted exactly in the middle of his heart, which now ached at every single beat. Was this really the end? Were your little rendezvouses nothing more than just that?

After your suggestion that night, Law's attitude completely changed. He was grumpier and more silent than usual, not reacting to Luffy's reckless decisions or dumb suggestions. He became almost passive, letting life just happen to him. Hiding in his mental palace, Law was really just trying to cope with his broken heart. Experiencing something similar to withdrawal symptoms, he wasn't able to function properly - something in his system broke and it was obvious to everyone. You kept him sane and shed a new light upon life; he felt alive again after a long time. Most importantly, Law felt loved - for the very first time after years of lonesome and darkness.

You never meant to cut him off of your life - his complete detachment was not what you wanted or meant. Flashbacks of the intimate moments you shared on his ship flashed before your eyes during the day, never failing to make you visibly blush and zone out - sadness insinuating under your skin moments later, every fibre of your body suffering from Law's absence. And you couldn't bear it anymore.

This situation was tearing both of you apart, and it quickly became visible to everyone. Everybody knew you and Law had something going on, and seeing both of you so heartbroken just confirmed everyone's doubts.

It wasn't until a few weeks after that things changed.

A very tired, worn out Law finally made a move. Joining you at dinner after the first times in weeks, he sat in the dining room with you and the rest of the crews. Sitting in front of each other was the first interaction the two of you had in weeks. Kicking your leg under the table to catch your attention, he finally looked at you after what felt like an entire lifetime.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly, knowing his comrades were making enough noise to cover his voice up. Your eyes lighted up for a second, and you simply nodded in response before getting up and putting your plate in the sink. Excusing yourself, you walked out of the kitchen and reached what used to be your usual place - a small spot under the oak tree right outside your hideout.

Law was quick to join you, letting himself fall on the grass and finally sitting next to you once again, remaining silent. The sole sensation of having you near made Law's heart skip a beat.

"I missed you." you said, finally breaking the silence.

"I missed you too." he was quick to reply, biting his bottom lip. He slowly turned his head towards you, scanning his eyes all over your face. His eye bags were darker and his face looked more sunken than usual.

"This was never what I meant." you said, your voice shaking as feelings of guilt wrapping your heart as a barbed wire. "I hate this. I only wanted to make it less obvious to the others - instead, you completely shut me out of your life." you added, talking a little faster than before.

Law remained silent whilst he visibly clenched his jaw, only nodding in response. He needed to digest your words, his feelings and the whole situation, really. Maybe he brought the pain upon himself with his usual self sabotaging ways, ending up hurting you too.

"Law." you called him, resting your hand on his shoulder. His silence was killing you, and it weighted heavier than any word he could have said. "Please talk to me." you almost begged, your voice shaking as the lump in your throat became harder to ignore.

He sighed in response, before pulling you closer to him - he couldn't resist it anymore. Letting your head rest on his chest, he wrapped his arms around you, making you disappear in his embrace. Kissing the top of your head, he kept holding you tight as if he was afraid you could easily slip away from his arms at any moment. His heart beat fast against his ribcage as he finally felt alive again - as if he had held his breath until this very moment; as if you just brought him back to life.

"I'm sorry." was all he managed to say. Not because he couldn't come up with anything better - his mind was flooded with things he wished he had said to you before getting the both of you into this stupid, senseless, cold war. He kissed your forehead again, then the tip of your nose before peppering your cheeks with gentle kisses. God only knew how much he had longed for you.

A cheeky smile appeared on your lips before latching your arms around his neck, finally pressing your lips onto his into what quickly became an heated, sloppy kiss. You were both starving, needy to finally let your bodies become one once again, melting the passion and lust away.

"Should we.." he whimpered, excitement building up in his body as he tried to catch his breath. All it took was a nod from you, and before you could realise it you were finally in his bedroom, in his ship.

Maybe you could get used to become an heart pirate, after all..

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villainsblog97 · 6 months

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Xdinary Heroes Reaction

Their S/O Being Jealous

Hello everyone! I'm going to try to be a little more active on here! I hope everyone is doing well!

Summary: So I have posted how our heroes get jealous, but how would they react to seeing YOU jealous??

Warning: Language, some suggestive content (Nothing bad I promise)

Scenario: Romance, fluff, some comedy, boyfriend AU

Gunil

GOD

He would be going insane

Like he has a girl hitting on him

And You are quite literally all over him

He knows what you're doing too

And he's totally all for it

He loves when you get jealous

He's gonna let everyone in the building know who he belongs to

I can see him

Hand around your waist

Smiling at you

Letting all the people around him know that

TAKEN

Lots of kisses

Yeah you know where it's gonna end

Jungsu

This man...

Okay so he notices you acting weird

Really weird

Asks you almost immediately what's wrong

You tell him you didn't like how the waitress was flirting with him

Like it was so obvious

He would smile and take your hand

"My Jagiya... don't worry, I knew what she was doing"

You'd go quiet

He would hold onto your hand and start using every damn pet name under the sun

"I think my baby needs a refill" he'd tell the waitress

Making sure he's super loud

"How is your food my princess"

(I'm melting a little)

Now the waitress is a little pissed

She'll get over it

Jungsu is yours

Gaon

I feel like at first Jiseok would be a little oblivious to the situation

Like he's confused

Why did you get so clingy all of a sudden?

But then when you explain it

Oh man

He's gonna tease you

"Is my baby....jealous??"

With that shit eating smirk

He's been hanging out with Seungmin too much

You would be a little embarrassed to admit it

But yes

You were jealous

Very jealous

Like that was your man

She could find her own

He would laugh and pull you closer

Could see him slipping his hand in your back pocket

(Stay with me guys)

Definitely letting the girl who was giving him flirting eyes the hint

He wasn't up for grabs

O.de

We already know where it's gonna go

At first he'd probably think you were overreacting

But then when he saw the signs

He pulled you closer

"Then show her, show her just who I belong to"

You would wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into the deepest most passionate kiss

Seungmin would be even surprised

"Okay... let's go"

He would drag you away

And

I'll leave that for the imagination

Junhan

WHERE THE F IS OUR SHY BOI!?!?

Anywho

This face exactly is how I'd see it

Now we all know how cute Hyeongjun is

But he's also a little shit

If you disagree you're lying to yourself

He's gonna eat this up

"Babe...are you jealous?"

"No!"

You get a little clingy

Like hugging his arm

Kissing his cheek

a lot

He'd finally smirk

and as you were leaning in for another cheek kiss

He'd quickly turn so you kissed his lips

And yes

He'd keep you there for a minute

until the bitch flirting with your boyfriend finally walked away

(I could see him smirking under your kiss too)

(okay bye)

Jooyeon

Lord help me...

Jooyeon is such a little shithead

(Yes I love him)

I think he's gonna tease you the most

Like laughing a lot

Also things like

"Nope, not until you admit you're jealous"

"Okay whatever miss (or mister) jealousy"

Basically he wants you to admit you're jealous of the person near him

You finally had enough and admitted you were jealous

"Fine Joo! Yes I'm fucking jealous right now! that person really needs to keep their hands to themselves! Happy??"

He would nod his head proudly and pull you closer

"You're so cute baby" he'd say as he kisses your nose

What a little shit....

#xdinary heroes #boyfriend scenario #fluff #romance #gun-il #jungsu #gaon #ode #junhan #jooyeon

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sirthisisa-wendys · 2 years

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Woven Serpents (Part 2): Namor x Mutant!Reader

synopsis: as a disgraced woman with healing powers, you find yourself on the receiving end of a favor from a feathered-serpent god. And even though he's offered you an escape, you wonder if it's worth the price of never being able to return to the world you once knew.

wc: 977

tw: none

previous part 🌊 next part

You sit in your hut, shielding yourself from the onslaught of rain just past your door. Water sloshes past the threshold as you cower on your bed, the only true dry place in the single-room home.

Is this punishment from the god who came to you with an offer that seemed too good to be true?

"No," you had said, pulling your hand away from the man. "I cannot leave."

"No?" The god flinched at your rebuke, his brows furrowing. "But they do not love you here."

"No one can love me," you replied, tears tracking down your cheeks. "Not my father, not my mother... Not even my own people."

"We would love you," he added, pressing a hand to his chest. "My people need someone like you."

You shook your head, and the Great K'ul'ulkan stepped back, his eyes full of something you couldn't read then. But you know it wasn't kindness. No, he looked like he wanted nothing more with someone like you. Like everyone else.

"You will come with me. Whether it is now... or later. You will see." And he disappeared with nothing more than a splash of water that turned into endless rain. You returned to your meager belongings and huddled on your bed, praying the shadow of the man wouldn't fall upon you during sleep.

There had been nothing but rain for a whole week since that night.

So when the flaps of your hut are pulled aside, you know a few faces could come inside without warning. Two blue people enter the hut and look at you carefully, holding spears and muttering to each other in their own tongue.

"You will come with me. Whether it is now... or later. You will see."

"K'ul'ulkan has fallen ill," one of them utters, and you frown. The feather serpent god? A god? Sick? "You have been summoned."

"I will not go," you reply. "Bring him here to be healed."

"We cannot," the one who looks like a woman replies. "He will not be moved from his bed."

"Then I will not go," you repeat.

"He said you would say that," the woman mentions, brandishing her spear. You brace yourself for an impact, but when you feel nothing, your eyes open again. "Stand up, healer." You do as you're told and the stronger of the two takes off his mask, hovering the mask over your mouth.

"It is by choice or by force," the man mutters, and you turn your head.

"Dying is preferable to slavery."

"You will not be a slave," the man whispers, placing the mask over your mouth after a short struggle. "And you cannot die, little one. We all know this." As you fade into darkness, you wonder how he knows your deepest secret.

You come to in silence.

A smattering of lights prick at your vision, and you reach up a hand to touch them but find they're higher above your head than you originally thought.

"You are awake," a voice echoes in the space, and you turn your head to look at the source. The deep, empty eyes of the god-man look back at you, and for a moment, you scan his appearance to look for signs of illness.

"You are not ill," you exhale, blinking lazily. A smirk pulls at the deity's lips.

"Sorry."

"You lied," you admonish. "Why lie?"

"You would not come any other way." You shift up off of the hammock and groan, rubbing your head. "How do you feel?"

"You dragged me down here with a lie." The words make the feather-heeled man flinch, and then he chuckles, standing up from his position.

"You act as if I committed a grievous sin against you," he begins, walking toward you. "And not as if I saved you from being killed by those you lived around."

"I told you--"

"You do not know what is good for you, my child," he says over your complaints, looking down at his wrists. "It is obvious that you are more offended that I did not leave you to die." You swallow your retorts, clenching your jaw tight. "And that would be such a waste of power. I know that you have lived for centuries like... this." He motions at your current state with a wave of his hand. "But you have never been seen as valuable. Let me ask: do you like being despised by those you care for?"

"No," you breathe. The god catches onto your words and nods, pursing his lips.

"Wouldn't you rather be seen as a goddess? A healer, a shepherd of her people to peace and happiness? Eternally?"

"I will not live forever," you counter, and the diety shakes his head, laughing.

"No," he replies, looking at you with a question in his eyes. "But don't you want to be loved while you are alive?" The inquiry sinks deep into your heart, and you look down at your hands, lips quivering. "You are here now," K'ul'ulkan continues. "You cannot leave here with your life. But you can stay here and allow others to show you the respect and love you deserve."

"And what do you gain from it?" you wonder, looking back at him.

He shrugs, his broad shoulders shimmering with jewels and adornments. "Nothing. I have no need for healing powers. I already have them."

"But I healed your foot..."

"Oh, that?" he wonders, looking down at his winged feet. "I could heal it on my own." The sinister look returns to his eyes. "I just wanted to see if the rumors were true, y/n." He turns away, leaving you in the hammock by yourself as you comprehend the fact that he knows your true name. "Let my attendants know when you've made up your mind," he calls out, voice echoing in the dark cavern. "I'll await your decision."

#tenoch huerta namor #namor the sub mariner #namor x reader #mcu namor #marvel cinematic universe #mcu

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skinbeneaththeskull · 8 months

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nick menza being mean to you in bed and taunting you… maybe using a vibe on you n making you cry… and then the sweetest aftercare and cuddles known to man. (also pussy slapping please please please hear me out PLEASEEEEE)

YESSS P!!!! I LOVE. LOVE. LOVE. AGGRESSIVE NICK!!! people don't realize that he's a leo JUST like James, and we ALL know how James fucks...... (unfortunately)

you two would probably be out all day, ending the night with some alone time, trying to wind down. you hand and hand with Nick while you two walk into your shared apartment. once you two step inside he just grabs you by your waist, kissing up your neck.

"cmon, let's go to the room, eh, pretty girl?"

you stopped for a second at the name, you immediately dragging Nick upstairs, a smirk plastered on his face.

he locked the door behind him, him already stripping while your discarding you clothes, both of you staying in your undergarments.

he walked over to you, him pushing you down on the bed him kissing up your body, holding you. you were already moaning at his touch, which seemed to turn him on even more. his covered length was rubbing against your clothed heat, him cursing under his breath.

"fffuck... lemme put it in,"

it was more of a demand than an ask, him looking at you with lustful, half lidded eyes. you gave in and nodded, him taking his length out of his boxers, pushing your panties to the side as he pushed himself all the way in, making you almost cry.

you covered your face, him cock warming you before he actually started to move because he wanted you to adjust to his size. he bent down to grab a vibrator from under the bed, him turning it on as he brought the toy up to your clit, making you scream.

"take your hands away from that pretty face, whore. feel good, hm?"

he chuckled watching you squirm under him. he started moving, making you clench around him. you didn't listen so he grabbed your hands by your wrists, pinning them above your head.

"when i tell you to do something, you fuckin' do it. got it?"

he slapped you with his free hand(with consent), causing you to whine. you nodded, tears rubbing down your cheeks, and Nick couldn't get enough. he grabbed the headboard, steading himself so he could pound deeper into your tight cunt.

he was letting out the deepest groans, him making you wetter by the minute. the two of you together sounded like pornstars, him calling you names, but you didn't care.

"fuck- fuck yes! oh baby, my fuckin' cock slut, yeah? fuck, you take it so good.."

he looked down to see your eyes closed, him using his free hand to bring down to your neck.

"open. your. fucking. eyes."

you hesitantly listened, looking up at him with puffy eyes. "please- please..." he stopped his thrusts for a moment, him wanting to hear what you had to say, but quickly fastened his pace once you started talking so he could make you an incoherent mess.

"what was that? couldn't hear you, princess."

"mmh!! let- lemme.."

"let you what baby?"

"let- m-me cum.."

"hm.."

he hummed, grabbing your legs and forcing them above your head, his thrusts getting messier in pace, him throwing his head back, groaning whenever you clench around him.

"NICK!! nick- ni-"

you moaned out before he filled your bruised cunt, him pushing himself deeper just to make sure it stayed inside.

"c-can i now?"

he looked down at you, eyes lazy as he smirked to himself.

"mm.. nah"

"what? but-"

"i ain't done, am i? you can cum when i fill every fucking hole on that slutty little body.. okay?"

you were about to cry, him pouting before he wiped them for you. he pulled out as your legs went limp, him sticking his fingers inside of your stretched cunt, keeping his seed from spilling out, leaning over you, kissing up your neck and leaving different sized marks on it.

"p-please, nick..."

he didn't respond, your hand on the back of his head, softly pulling at his hair. he let out a huff, him lowering his fingers back to your pussy, slapping it as you jumped at the touch. he shoved them back inside going slow before reaching his thumb up to toy with your clit, him moving abnormally fast, going side to side.

"shit- shit, shit..baby!"

you whined before you squirted all over the other, letting your body go limp, him lifting his head up, looking down at the mess you made all over his hands and the sheets, him smirking to himself before looking at you.

"fuckin' slut,"

he slapped your pussy a few more times just so he could hear the loud wet noises.

"i- i'm so sorry, sir.. i didn't mean to-"

he shrugged before he kissed you on the lips, then on the cheek. he didn't say anything, he wasn't really mad, he just wanted to see how long you could go without cumming.

"you did very good for me, hun. proud of you, pretty girl."

he moved your hair out of the way, just peppering your face with fast kisses. you started to cry a little because you thought he was angry at you, him getting a little worried now.

"what's goin' on?"

he asked, wiping your tears with his thumb. you shaking your head before laughing it off, "thought you were mad at me," you confessed, but he just kissed your forehead instead.

"can never be mad at you, sweetheart. cmon, let's take a bath, yeah? here-"

he got up before picking you up bridal style, bringing you to the bathroom. he sat you down on the toilet before starting the water and making sure it was a perfect temperature for you <333

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

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO LONG😃 (i love him so much i had to)

#nick menza #megadeth #nick menza x reader #nick menza smut #nick x reader #nick smut

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crownedtargaryen · 1 year

Text

ribs. - aemond x reader x lucerys

enough.

MASTERLIST | ( < this story has more parts that cane found here) A/N: This chapter includes topics brought up of rape. TW: THIS STORY WILL INCLUDE INCEST, SEXUAL CONTENT, ANGST, ABUSIVE TOPICS, INSINUATION OF RAPE, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, POST PARTUM. NOTES ARE APPRECIATED! (SHARES, LIKES, COMMENTS) word count: 1.4k taglist: @daenerysapologist @twizzy123 @hopelesswritergall

Silence. It was deafening, my head banging as I held the letter that rested within my hands. It had been days since I heard from Lucerys when he promised me he would grant me letters daily. My heart felt as if it was going to explode, shakily opened the slip of paper.

(Y/N),

I know I hadn't kept the promises I shared, and for that, I give my deepest apologies. When my uncle Aemond and I had made our travels to Winterfell, he had pulled an attack on Arrax and me. Though I escaped, I made my way toward my mother in a panic. I had no time to write, and I tell you now, with all of my heart, I am sorry. I hold your words dear to my heart, my thoughts clouded with you when the days drag longer than I wish.

Jacaerys' wife-to-be is a beautiful woman. A Stark, a wolf. Though, I do not feel she is as beautiful as my Princess. She is a strong soul, reminding me much of you. I wish to see you soon. Though I hold deep joy towards my brother and his future, I cannot bring myself to focus on the present we live in. It feels selfish to crave you in such ways when this isn't my time, but I cannot wait to embrace you. I can never get enough of you. The smell of rain lingers in your hair. The smoothness of your fragile skin, your beautiful eyes shining in the lights above; I wish nothing more than to experience you in ways I cannot describe, my friend.

As for political matters, my mother was hesitant about us being wed, but after convincing, she agreed to the tie between Storm's End and Dragonstone.

I will write to you as morrow rises, my friend.

Yours,

Lucerys Velaryon.

The mix of emotions hit me like a wave, my eyes welling up with tears. I imagined the fear Lucerys must've felt. I hadn't seen Aemond's dragon, but from what I had heard it was much larger than Arrax. I sunk into my bed, tears rolling down my cheeks and neck, hiccuping weakly. If only I had stalled longer and kept him here as Aemond retrieved a head start, Lucerys could've been spared the scare. My chest heaved, choked sobs escaping me. I wasn't just crying for the attack; I was crying for him. I yearned for him as well, and it hurt knowing he felt the same way. The desire to be in his warm embrace made my body tremble, aching where he should be touching. I clutched the parchment to my chest, burying my face into the letter and taking in the subtle scent of Lucerys' figure. I felt my body relax, eyes closing as my sobs turned into gentle cries, tears, then nothing. My eyes stung, lips trembling as a knock came to my ears.

I wiped my face swiftly, voice croaking as I sat up straight. "Come in," I call, looking towards the door.

"Your grace, another letter has arrived for you," they started. I looked at them with growing curiosity. "From who?" I ask, watching as they look over the folded sheet.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen."

My heart sunk, eyes widening in surprise. I stood swiftly, scaring the poor messenger as I snatched the letter from their hands. "You may leave," I demand, refusing to look in their direction once more after they'd uttered his name. I heard the messenger shuffle with a bow and rush out the door. I stared at the letter in silence, anger burrowing into my stomach.

The thunder blew loud behind me as I slammed the doors to my father's throne room open, watching his guard's post before easing at the sight of me. I stormed forward, fire burning in my eyes.

"Dearest daughter, what ails you?" He says, slightly annoyed. I glared at him, slamming the letter onto his chair's arm and staring into his gaze. He was illiterate, so I couldn't just show him the letter and expect him to read it. He doesn't flinch at my actions, merely gazing up at me as I pant, trying to keep in my fury.

"I demand Prince Aemond Targaryen's head," I snap, lightning echoing behind me. I watch my father's eyes widen as he gulps. I feel the eyes of the guards rest on my back, my hands shaking.

"(Y/N), do not say such things," he whispers angrily to me. I do not silence my voice, stepping back and reading the note aloud for all to hear.

"Dearest (Y/N)," I start, my father, looking around at those around him. Servants, guards, caterers, even my dear sisters. "I come to you with a promise, one I ensure to keep." I feel anger swirl larger inside of me, tears dancing on my lash lines. "With you wedding my bastardly nephew, Lucerys, the selfishness of your lack of loyalty to the true heirs of the Iron Throne show. Girls such as this will be punished, a whore who cannot keep a true ounce of care to those who hold power over her kingdom." I inhale sharply, looking at my father with pained laughter as I speak. "I will take you as mine, you are well aware of where your kingdom belongs. If I have to swell your belly with my kin to show so, I shall. I will be seeing you soon, dearest. With adoration, Aemond Targaryen." I moved my gaze to my sisters, Ellyn specifically, who looked at me with a pained gaze.

Silence.

My father speaks after what feels like an eternity, not moving from his throne even an inch.

"I will not behead anyone for loose threats, daughter. You've become delusional thinking I'd ever commit such acts on your accord." He says, a numbness to his voice. I froze, time feeling as if it was no longer moving forward. I replay the words in my head over and over, craving an ounce of sympathy from my blood. He merely looks at me, his gray, stormed eyes staring into mine without any show of faltering from his statement. I couldn't accept this. I wouldn't.

"Then I will sever his filthy head from his shoulders myself," I say coldly, turning around and beginning to step out.

"You will do nothing of the sorts," my father returns the coldness, making me stop in my tracks. I turned around, staring at him. The emotion drained from my gaze, and my limbs fell numb.

"What's stopping me? A lazed man who sits upon his throne and relies on the sea around us to protect him? They've proven they can get here, father. I do not see why you feel safe. They have dragons who are masses larger than our storms. The only protection we hold now is what we work for." I spit, watching him rise from his throne. He steps toward me. I know his fury; I've felt it thousands of times before. I stand my ground, my eyes never leaving his.

"You dare not leave this kingdom. You will not seek out Prince Aemond; you shall stay within these walls and wait for your wed to return from his travels. Then, you will marry. Do you understand me? These are orders, (Y/N)." He growls, his breath sinking into my face. I smile slowly, no light coming to my eyes.

"So you'd let the life of a man who craves to deflower me to force alliance upon us stand these grounds instead of defending your blood? What a father you are. Mother would never let me hurt in such a way and you know it, you selfish cunt." I snap back, looking at him up and down. Then, I spit on his clothes, watching his brows furrow as he raises his hand, striking me along the face. I fell to the floor, wincing and whimpering weakly. Fury fills my gaze, looking up at my father, who stares at me in disgust.

No tears are shed; I merely stand and inhale deeply, my face stinging to an absurd degree.

"No amount of strikes to me will stop that I will strike Aemond down if he dares step foot into my chambers," I murmur, voice shaking. With that, I turned, and stormed out of the room to go write to my beloved Lucerys about what had happened, my anger boiling like a hot stew.

I wanted to kill Aemond Targaryen.

And I will.

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novafire-is-thinking · 10 months

Text

Per aspera ad astra: “through adversity, to the stars”

The Vision

“You see a future in the stars?" Alpha Trion asked him quietly.

. . .

“The stars look endless to me,” he [Orion] said eventually. “Out there, you could just go and go, and there’d be enough space for everyone, and things to do and see that go on forever.” (CoP)

In an earlier post (Orion the Dreamer), I shared the full scene where Orion reveals his hopes and dreams to Alpha Trion.

And I mentioned in the previous post (Desire vs. Destiny) that it was Optimus’ deepest desire to peer behind the veil of life and study its secrets by collecting stories and seeking knowledge wherever he could find it.

Putting together both of these, one can see that Orion/Optimus’ personal vision for his life was to be a lifelong learner—one who learned through exploration, discovery of new life, the seeking of stories, and deep reflection.

Change of Plans

I will recover the AllSpark, thought Optimus Prime. Then I will retrace my steps across the galaxy and sow peace on my return wherever our initial exodus has inadvertently fomented division and war. (Exiles)

Life rarely goes as planned, as Optimus found out as the war dragged on.

Where a young Orion dreamt of setting out on his journey with curiosity and hope, a war-torn Optimus came to expect nothing more than a future quest of reparation and what he determined to be a moral duty.

A Fresh Glimpse of Hope

After so long, it was strange indeed to reach this planet again. Although I had heard it was full of life, I did not expect what we found—civilizations, technologies. For the last months, as we have been on final approach, we have learned to know them by their broadcasts, and though the others say nothing about it, what amazes me is how alike we are. Our bodies are different, our lifespans and our needs unalike, but what drives us and moves us is very much the same: humans talk about the heart, and Cybertronians the Spark; they love and fear, think and fight one another, as we do.

I looked for signs as we came within the light of their sun, and I find them everywhere—the many readings of Cybertronian technology on their world, the intensity of their struggles, the strange richness of their stories—against all odds, Unicron the Destroyer of Worlds has borne eons of life. I feel everything hangs in the balance. The Nemesis still pursues. We still track the AllSpark. So long this journey has been, and in spite of all its battles, so unchanging. (CoP)

Upon meeting and observing humans for himself, Optimus saw a glimpse of future potential—a future in which two very different, yet oddly similar species could learn and grow together, just as he’d wanted before the war. After all, Earth was also home to Unicron—the antithesis of Primus. There had to be a connection somewhere, and if not, Optimus intended to create one.

Of course, the war prevented him from getting his hopes too high, but judging from the fact that he trusted a human with the Key to Vector Sigma, it seems he allowed himself to hold onto a sliver of hope that humanity would not only survive the Cybertronian war, but would be part of Cybertron’s future in some way.

Endings and Epiphanies

I saw my death in the descent of the Dark Saber in Megatron's hand. I was surprised a little, disappointed. And then suddenly Megatron was no more. The reprieve was beyond belief. It shook me to my Spark and I felt suddenly with incredible force the fool I had been. I was not alone. I had never been alone, Prime or not. We, the Autobots, were one. (CoP)

After eons of hardship and carrying what he thought was primarily his burden to carry, Optimus was reminded that he was part of a greater whole.

The bigger goal was to see Autobots and Decepticons become one again, but this monumental shift in awareness was a necessary first step on Optimus’ journey to heal and open himself up to possibilities involving Cybertronians of either faction and humans.

A Shared Destiny

Thus ends the story of the Age of the Primes and of the origins of the Cybertronians, though not the whole story of course, for that is still being written in time and space on Earth, and all over the galaxy where the seeds and the sparks of life are growing.

I, Alpha Trion, one of the last Primes, now give this book into your hands, human friend, so that you shall know who your allies are, and your enemies also, how they are made, and where they have come from. Be sure that wherever and whenever you need our aid, the Autobots will respond to your call.

This is the Covenant of Primus, as given to all Cybertronians by right, and to humans by the last wish of Optimus, the Thirteenth Prime, so let it be.

TILL ALL ARE ONE.

Alpha Trion’s wording tells me humanity is probably the only other species that was given the Covenant of Primus.

This is incredible, to say the least. Of all the races Optimus encountered, he asked that humans be given one of the most sacred texts of the Cybertronian race.

But why humanity?

Well, Optimus firmly believed humans and Cybertronians shared a common destiny.

Alpha Trion, the relics, Unicron, the end of the war.

To Optimus, all of it pointed to Earth and humanity being an excellent starting point to launch into his original dream. He saw in humanity the future he’d endured so much hardship for: a future of learning and growing—not just alongside fellow Cybertronians, but alongside other races as well.

And depending on what each fan chooses to believe is the end of Optimus’ story, he either never got to see the fulfillment of his dream, or he did in some imagined way outside of canon.

Dreamers suffer more, but they also live more.

✧ ✧ ✧

Today, this post and the entire series are dedicated to Peter Cullen on his 82nd birthday, and to one of several beloved Optimi he’s poured so much of his heart and soul into. ❤️

#transformers prime #maccadam #tfp #tfp optimus prime #tfp orion pax #tfp character analysis #tfp meta #aligned continuity #tf aligned novels #the covenant of primus #tf exiles #the one and only op ❤️💙#who is TFP Optimus? series #long post #nova’s nerding out again

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whatawonderfulexistence--blog · 1 year

Text

A Weekend Away (Falk Maria Schlegel x Fem! Reader) - FLUFF/SMUT

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MINORS DNI, MDNI, 18+, pnv sex, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex. Mostly fluff, mutual pining, Falk being a sweetheart

A/N: I FINALLY GOT THIS DONE!! This was a request I got a while ago from a wonderful anon who wanted some Powerwolf smut, IM HERE TO DELIVER!!

Prompt: "Every thought I have about you is improper

Thank you so much for the request, I hope you like it!! ❤️❤️

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

"(Y/N)." You glanced up at your name being called from Attila's office.

"Coming." You respond, finishing the sentence you were writing before leaving your desk. You approached his desk where he was buried in paperwork like usual.

"I was supposed to be attending a conference with Father Falk this weekend, I'm going to need you to go in my place." He didn't bother to look up from the form he was filling out, a blessing on your end. He wouldn't be able to see your wide eyed, flustered gaze.

"Does, um… Is Father Falk aware of this?" He shook his head. "And the rest of the high clergy?"

"They all already have prior engagements." You nod. You stood there in silence for a moment, searching for any last ditch attempt at escaping. "What are you not telling me?" Now you were in trouble, he had a knack for knowing when you weren't being fully honest with him. Attila set his pen down, giving you his full, undivided attention. "Has Father Falk treated you poorly?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that." You should have just accepted his request and left. Attila always had a way of prying your deepest secrets out of you, and now was no different. Your best option was trying to skirt around the root of the problem until you could find a way to slink off. "Father Falk has never been anything but kind towards me. You've known him much longer than I have, I'm sure you're aware that he's a perfect gentleman." You chuckle awkwardly, a memory of Falk holding a door open for you flashed through your mind. His kind eyes, bright smile, and gentle voice. You felt yourself starting to sweat. You swallowed thickly, trying to force a smile into your face. Attila raised an eyebrow at you, noticing your flustered demeanor in an instant.

"I see." He gives you a knowing smirk. Shit. He waves you on, "if you have any questions about your duties this weekend I'm sure Falk will have no issue answering them for you." You nod, politely dismissing yourself. "Oh, and (Y/N)..." You freeze, "try and relax." He chuckles softly as you flit out the door. You made your way down to Falk's office, knuckles tentatively knocking against the door frame.

"Ah, (Y/N), what a pleasant surprise." He studies you for a moment under his kind gaze. You notice him glance at the clock on the wall. "I would like to warn you I do have to leave shortly, but what can I help you with, my dear?"

"Father Attila sent me, I guess I'm going in his place for the conference." You found yourself nervously swaying on your heels, far more focused on the floor than the man sitting in front of you.

"Oh good, I was worried I was going to end up going by myself." He chuckles softly. "Well, I suggest you bring formal attire, we usually get invited to a lot of dinners. We'll leave in about an hour." You hurried back to your room to pack, not wanting to keep him waiting. You sighed as you shrugged on your backpack, dragging your other suitcase behind you. You jumped back slightly as you opened the door, being greeted with the image of Falk standing there preparing to knock on your door.

“Oh God, am I late?” You ask frantically, checking the time.

“Not at all!” He rushes to reassure you, wildly waving his hands as if to brush off any remaining anxiety. “I just wanted to help with your bags, it’s a long walk down to the garage.” He chuckles, you feel your shoulders relax. He moves cautiously, not wanting to startle you any further. He takes your suitcase, the two of you walking in silence down the hallway. "Are you nervous?" He tries to break up the silence with a single question.

"A little." You chuckle. "Every time I've had to go to one of these conferences it's always been as a mediator. I'm sure you're well aware, but Father Attila has a tendency to be a bit abrasive." Falk laughs and nods.

"That's one way to put it." He glances over at you, eyes trailing over your frame for a moment. "I'm glad he asked you to go in his place, I couldn't have asked for better company." You blush, smiling down at the ground to hopefully hide your bashful expression.

"It'll be nice to spend some time with you as well, Father Falk." You loaded your bags into his car and set out on your way. You kept to yourself mostly during the ride there, you and Falk on friendly enough terms to be comfortable around him but you didn't have the slightest idea what to talk to him about. Everyone always marveled over the fact that you spoke with Attila effortlessly, they seem to neglect the fact that you had been his assistant for the better part of a decade in order to reach the level of comfortability the two of you had together. You reached for the radio, wanting at least something to break up the silence in the car. You jumped slightly as Falk's hand collided with yours. Your eyes snapped in his direction, worried he would be upset with you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Your voice trailed off at the sight of his gentle gaze studying your face

"Great minds think alike, huh?" He chuckles, motioning for you to continue. You hesitantly reached out for the radio, taking one final glance up at him to make sure it was really okay before selecting a station. You picked something you felt like you could mutually agree on before allowing yourself to sink back into the warm leather of the car. You noticed a puzzled expression cross his features, "this is what you normally listen to?" You shake your head with a giggle.

"No, but I won't make you suffer through my music." You joke.

"Well then, how am I supposed to learn anything about you?" He asks with a small smirk, the mischievous glint in his eye impossible to miss.

"You could always just ask me." You turned yourself slightly in your seat to face him. "I'm not that scary, am I?"

"Scary? No. Pretty enough to make me forget how to string a proper sentence together? Absolutely." You watched as his eyes widened slightly, the realization that he had just said that out loud rapidly setting in. "Sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty." You both sat in silence for a moment.

Falk cleared his throat, "so, are you more of a dog or a cat person?" You can't help but laugh at the question. You watch a smile creep across his lips, "what?"

"Nothing, I just didn't expect that to be the first question you asked me." You let your head lull to the side to look at him. You don't think you had ever seen him in casual clothes, and it was definitely a sight you could get used to. "I'd say I'm probably more of a dog person." He breathes out a laugh as he nods.

"Good answer." The two of you went back and forth asking questions for pretty much the whole car ride. You were honestly a bit shocked to discover just how much the two of you had in common. You pulled up to the inn you would be staying in, the car filled with the jovial sounds of laughter and excited conversations. "Father, welcome back." The plump old woman at the check in counter greets Falk with a bright smile.

"Happy to be back Esther." He motions to you. "This is Father Attila's assistant, (Y/N), she'll be staying with me this weekend." Esther looks between the two of you.

"Oh goodness. Well, I would just like to let you know that the room you booked for only had one bed." She grimaces slightly as she informs you.

"Are there any rooms available with two beds?" You noticed him pale slightly as she shook her head.

"Unfortunately we're in the height of tourist season right now, we're full up I'm afraid." She ponders over your options for a moment. "It looks like all of our cots are already in use as well… your room has a couch, maybe that's something? I'm incredibly sorry Father, I wish there was more than I could do. I'd be more than happy to give you a refund if you'd like to try booking elsewhere-"

"Nonsense, Esther, we've been coming here for years, we want to give you our business." He smiles warmly at her. "We'll work with the couch, don't worry." He pats the desk, trying his best to reassure her that it was fine. You lug your bags up to the room. It was surprisingly spacious for an inn; fresh white linens matched the curtains that billowed in the breeze of the open balcony door, a small seating area with a couch and two matching chairs occupied one corner of the room. You jumped slightly as Falk rested a hand on your shoulder, "you make yourself comfortable, I'll take the couch."

"Oh, Father, I can take the couch, it's really no problem." You could tell by the expression he was giving you that there was absolutely no changing his mind. "Are you really sure? You should be well rested for the conference."

"I'll be just fine." He gently pats your head with a smile as he walks past you. "And, (Y/N)?" You give him a hum of affirmation. "It's just Falk." He chuckles.

"Right," you grimaced slightly, remembering all the times he had tried to correct you out of using honorifics with him, "sorry." He smirks slightly as he sets up some of his work on the small table. You sit on the couch next to him, letting the warm air wash over you from the outside. "This place is really nice."

"We've been coming here for years, Esther used to attend our church actually. Not to mention, since it is tourist season for them, they set off fireworks on Friday's which we can see from our room." He breathes out a laugh at your excited expression, eyes studying your features for another moment. "Would it be alright if I took you out to dinner tonight?"

You nod, giving him a bashful smile. "I'd like that." After finishing up some paperwork the two of you got ready. Dressed in your finest formal attire Falk brought you to one of the nicest restaurants in town. It was beautiful, but the atmosphere felt stiff compared to what you were used to. You felt like everyone in the room could tell that you didn't come from a lavish background and it honestly made you feel a little self conscious. You set down your menu with a sigh, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth. You glanced up only to see Falk peering over his glasses at you. He sets down his menu, stopping your waiter as he passes by. He explains that the two of you had gotten called away to handle an emergency so you would be giving up your table, tipping the man before motioning for you to follow him. You eye him curiously as the two of you leave the restaurant.

"It was a bit stuffy in there, don't you think?" A soft smile creeps its way across your lips as he offers you his arm. "I think I have a better idea." It was obvious that Falk new this town like the back of his hand, weaving through streets and across a park until the overly serious tone of the fancy part of town subsided, giving way to a beachfront paradise that was filled with laughter, pings and whirrs of the boardwalk arcade and the bright flashing lights of the midway that seemed to stretch out endlessly before you. "Come on, let's go have some fun." Your hand slipped into his effortlessly as the two of you darted off into the crowd. Your night was filled with fried food, sweet treats, and excellent company with Falk by your side. You couldn't help but laugh as he handed you over the biggest cloud of cotton candy you had ever seen.

"You know, you really didn't have to do all of this." You were drawn in by his soft gaze, having him look at you the way was, he made you feel like you were the only two people in the universe.

"I never get to do things like this with you, I want to make the most of it." Warm fingers brushed across your cheek, carefully readjusting some stray hair that had wandered into your face. You felt your cheeks grow warm at the sensation of his touch, undoubtedly a blushing mess before him. You continue down the midway, Falk chuckling at the sight of people staring at your vastly overdressed appearance. The two of you strolled to the end of the boardwalk, leaning on the rail to look over the ocean below. The moon skirted just above the horizon, the energetic sounds of the midway fading away to the quiet lapping of the waves against the posts. “I’m glad to see you’ve relaxed a little.” He smiles at you

“You’re very…” you pondered for a moment to think of the right word to use. “Easy to be around.” You shifted slightly, your hand brushing against his. He hooks his pinky with yours, both of you silently staring ahead in hopes the other wouldn’t notice your flustered expression.

“Can I tell you something?” You give him an affirming hum, hand slowly drifting on top of his, you carefully pushing your fingers through his. "Getting to spend today with you was… incredible.” He chuckles nervously, his breath shaky as he lets out. You smile, shifting closer to him.

“Falk?” You say his name softly, eliciting a hum from him. “I’m really happy I get to be here with you.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. He glances down at you, a tender fondness in his gaze. His eyes drift down to your lips, warm breath bouncing off your skin. You slowly straighten yourself up, lips barely out of reach of his own. Your eyes meet his once more, an almost expectant expression on your face. You wanted Falk to kiss you more than anything else, all of the small lingering touches and flirtatious comments over your time of knowing him building up an impeccable sense of want for the man that stood before you. He clears his throat, turning back to look out over the water, not wanting to accidentally take things too far. You shivered in the cool ocean breeze, goosebumps forming on your skin. A warm arm wraps itself around your shoulder.

“Come on, before you freeze.” He offers you a chuckle and a kind smile, allowing you to snuggle into his side as the two of you lazily made your way back to his car. The drive back to the inn was mostly silent, a slight sting in your chest as you thought about how you would have liked this night to play out. “I’m sorry if I made things awkward.” He states quietly, eyes focused on the road before him.

“You didn’t.” You tried to reassure him. “I had a really nice time today." You watch him hesitantly reach out, fingers trembling slightly as they ghost over your skin. You take his hand in yours, feeling his muscles relax at your touch.

“I meant what I said back there, I can't remember the last time I've had so much fun.” He swallowed thickly, forcing out a nervous chuckle “I’m sure you don’t remember the first day we met, but I haven’t been able to keep you out of my mind since that day.” You let out a chuckle, you remember that day well. You had just started as Attila’s assistant, a position you were beyond nervous to take on. You had gotten them both drinks while they were having a meeting in his office only for you to spill Falk’s drink all over him. You were too stunned and embarrassed to speak. You felt tears start to prick at your eyes, your mouth moving but no sounds seemed to be coming out. Falk laughed, standing up and giving you a soft pat on the top of your head. “Trust me, a little spilt water isn’t anything to fuss over.” The second your eyes met his, you were lost in them, warm brown irises stared back into yours with a gentleness you had never experienced first hand. He takes your hand, giving it a firm shake. “Falk." It took you a moment to find your voice.

“(Y/N)," you introduce yourself. Snapping yourself from your hypnotized state you started to panic all over again, "I am so sorry about this Father, would you like me to get you a towel?” He waves you off with a grin.

“Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll be alright.” You hadn’t forgotten his smile even years later, the same smile that was ghosting over his lips now. “You walked in wearing that cute little sundress you used to wear all the time, the one with the sunflowers all over it. I don’t know if you noticed but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you the second you walked in the room.” He chuckles.

“I was so embarrassed.” You hide your face in your hands, both of you struggling to contain your laughter. “I still haven’t lived that down." Your shoulder pressed against his as the two of you turned into the inn's parking lot. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. You breathe out a laugh, "you were always so kind, even before we got to know each other… it's one of the things I like so much about you." The two of you shared a bashful grin before heading inside. You sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing out the plush comforter under your fingers as you watched Falk set up the couch for the night. "I really don't mind swapping with you." You state bluntly. He turns to you with a smile as he drops a pillow on one end of the couch.

"You know I'm not going to let you do that." He approaches you slowly, kneeling down in front of you so he can meet your eyes. "I'll be just fine, try and get some rest, we have a big day tomorrow." A warm hand cups your cheek, thumb languidly running over your skin. You nodded, giving him a soft smile before the two of you reluctantly part for the night. Your gaze drifted over to Falk, body haphazardly sprawled out, the sound of his quiet snoring filling the room, after hours of tossing and turning you finally noticed the welcomed heavy feeling of sleep settling behind your eyes. You drifted off into a dreamless sleep only to be awoken the next morning by the smell of coffee filling the room. You rolled over with a tired grumble, pushing your bed head haphazardly out of your face, keeping yourself buried in the bed's soft comforter. You rolled over to be met with the sight of Falk studying you, a gentle smile on his lips, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, two cups of coffee sat before him on the table next to his folded up newspaper.

"Mornin'." You mumble, still processing being awake.

"Good morning." Falk can't help but chuckle at your disheveled state. "I brought you some coffee. You looked so peaceful I didn't want to disturb you." He picks up both cups, sitting on the edge of the bed. You take the warm mug in your hands, locking eyes with Falk as you bring it to your lips. Your nose reflexively scrunched up at the taste. "Not enough sugar?" You shake your head, he chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind for next time." He couldn't keep his eyes off you, his gaze held nothing short of pure adoration for the sight before him.

"How'd you sleep?" You set the mug on your nightstand, pulling your knees to your chest as you sit and talk with him.

"I slept just fine, the couch is surprisingly comfortable." He smiles despite the fact you knew he was lying. You could see the stiffness in his movements, the shifting of his position to try and subside the full ache in his body. He gently tilts your chin up with his index finger, "I know that look, I'm fine, I promise." You nod.

"You're staring." You point out with a grin.

"Sorry." He lets out a bashful chuckle. "I just can't get over how beautiful you look right now." You blushed, laughing quietly as your gaze fell to your lap. The two of you sat and drank your coffee, quietly discussing the day ahead events. "I can't even begin to tell you how insufferable this man is, but try to grin and bear it the best you can. We mainly do business with his son, unfortunately this time he has to come in his son's place." He explains about the meeting you were currently getting ready to attend.

"Falk, you know my job is just to sit there and look pretty." You tease, he chuckles.

"If I remember correctly you have quite the sharp tongue, Schatz." You catch his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. A slight smirk on his lips, he definitely wasn't wrong. It was fairly often that you would get chastised by father Attila for your blunt attitude and quick wit.

"I'll be on my best behavior." You smile, causing him to laugh. You hadn't expected that to be such a difficult promise to keep. You sat in the chair next to Falk, smiling through gritted teeth as the man on the opposing side of the desk cut off your train of thought for what must have been the tenth time in the last hour. You saw Falk’s eyes drift down to your hand, your pen about to crack in half you had such a tense grip on it. You hadn’t been able to get a single word in since the two of you arrived. You sat in the chair at Falk’s side, posture absolutely rigid as you struggled to hold your tongue. The three of you stood, Falk placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. The second you were out of earshot of the man you began to complain. “I’ll never understand why it’s a necessity that I go to these meetings when I won’t be able to get a word in edgewise.”

“I warned you he was going to be difficult.” Falk reminds you with a chuckle. You fell into the passenger seat with a groan, slumping down in the seat. “You did a great job.”

“I didn’t do anything.” You rebuttal.

“You didn’t need to. You simply needed to gain experience dealing with difficult clients, which you succeeded in doing.” You nodded, he did have a point. “I don’t know about you but I think we earned the rest of the night off.” He offers with a smirk. You found yourselves sitting across from each other on the bed in your room, eating chinese food straight out of the container, an amused expression on Falk’s face as he listened to you ramble on about nothing in particular, he just enjoyed listening to the sound of your voice.

“What’s that look for?” You question him with a smirk.

He shakes his head, “it’s nothing… it’s just nice watching you finally open up.” You look away with a flustered expression. It felt almost effortless to be around Falk, his presence alone enough to put you completely at ease. Before you had a chance to respond you were cut off by the sounds of fireworks going off outside. Falk grabs your hand, tugging you in the direction of the balcony door. An arm slips around your waist as the two of you step out into the night. Bright bursts of blues, greens, and golds popped across the inky black sky. Your eyes widened, childlike amazement taking over your features. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here with me.” Your body moved before you had a chance to think. Your arms slid over Falk’s shoulders, guiding his lips down to meet yours. His hands rested firmly on your waist, a surprised yet satisfied hum escaping him. Your mind finally caught up with your actions you suddenly pull back, fingers flying up to your lips in pure disbelief that you had just done that

“Falk, I am so sorry.” You desperately scrambled out an apology. “I don’t know what came over me.” Before you had a chance to panic even further his lips were on yours once again. One hand laced its way into your hair, the other securing itself around your back to keep you pressed close to him. Your fingers slid into his soft hair, deepening the kiss as much as you could. Both of you part with a breathless sigh.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He says through a quiet chuckle. You wave a sarcastic, chastising finger at him.

“And here I thought you would know better than to give into improper thoughts.” You can’t help but giggle as he looms over your much smaller form.

“Schatz, every thought I have about you is improper.” You’re met with a toothy grin and a devious look in Falk’s eye. You let out a startled squeak as you’re suddenly lifted from the ground, Falk’s arms slipping behind your thighs and guiding your legs around his waist. His lips trapped yours in another mind numbing kiss, both of you laughing as he drops you on the mattress. Hot breath trailed down your neck, goosebumps littering your skin at his slightest touch. His hands slid under your shirt, successfully pushing up the fabric in the process until he was easily able to pull it off over your head. You situated yourself on your knees, hurriedly undoing the buttons of his shirt. His lips ghost over yours, a smirk crossing his features as he keeps himself just out of reach. He sits at your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you to straddle his lap as you haphazardly push the clothing off of his shoulders, fingers trailing down his exposed chest. You looked at your trembling hand, unsure if there was some sort of unspoken line you shouldn't cross. Falk's hand completely engulfs yours, eyes snapping to his in an instant. "We don't have to keep going if you don't want to." He says in a gentle, reassuring tone.

"It's not that I don't want to, it's just…" he raises a curious eyebrow at you. If you were being completely honest all of this was a bit overwhelming. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't dreamed about what this moment would be like, your late night fantasies were often filled with the thought of Falk. But now that this moment was no longer a figment of your imagination you didn't have the slightest idea where to begin. "I think I might be a little nervous." You let out a flustered giggle. Strong fingers kneaded at your thighs, a patient smile resting on his lips.

"There's nothing wrong with being nervous, Schatz. Just try to relax and let me take care of you, think you can do that for me?" You nod, relinquishing full control over to him. He carefully grabs your wrist, pressing the hand that was barely grazing over his skin flush against his chest. You felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat thrum under your palm. He lifted your chin slightly with his knuckle, golden brown eyes locked intently on your own. You felt him fumbling with the zipper on your skirt, he breathed out a laugh. "See? You're not the only one that's nervous." He jokes with a chuckle. You felt your body relax at the sight, you felt safe with him. You help him with the zipper, shimmying out of your skirt. You can't help but smirk slightly, noticing his eyes completely glued to the sight of your ass finally being freed from the right confines of your clothing. He reaches out for you, a delighted squeal passing your lips as he playfully pushes you onto the bed. You bite your lip, fully entranced by the sight of him crawling on top of you to give you some much needed attention. You gasp at the feeling of his teeth grazing over your exposed skin before he got to work biting and sucking what you were positive were going to be deep purple bruises come tomorrow morning.

"Fuck." You tossed your head back against the mattress, you could feel him smirk as he relentlessly toyed with a rather sensitive spot of your body. A sinful groan tumbled from his lips as he ground his hips against yours, a noticeable bulge pressed against your already soaked core. A hand slipped between your legs, rubbing slow, languid circles around your clit that had you mewling and shuddering beneath him. Your breath hitched as he effortlessly slipped a finger between your velvety folds, giving your aching cunt a moment of relief. He watched your expression carefully, paying close attention to how you responded to his expert fingers. You felt a knot beginning to form in your stomach, rapidly winding itself tighter, bringing you right to the brink of your climax. You whined as he pulled out of you, growing need pooling endlessly in your core, the feeling only growing stronger as the threat of your orgasm subsided. You watched with wide eyes as he slipped the digit into his mouth, reveling at the taste of your juices on his tongue. You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight, unable to look away as he smirks down at you.

"So wet for me already," he chuckles darkly, "such a good little Maus I have." Whatever was left of the clothing he was wearing was quickly discarded, the feeling of him teasing the tip of his hardened length at your entrance sending a shiver of anticipation through your body. The two of you engaged in a silent conversation, letting Falk know that you were absolutely ready for anything he had in store for you. Your cried out as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, a slight sting from him stretching you out. You felt every inch of him enter you at his agonizing pace. He grabs your jaw, your gaze snapping back to meet his in an instant. "Eyes on me Maus." Your head was already spinning, a smile dominating your lips as you struggled to follow his orders. He gradually began to pick up his pace, every snap of his hips eliciting desperate, feverish moans as you dug your nails into his back. Your voice harmonized with his, low gravelly groans that only made your body hotter the longer you listened to them. "Sheiße." He curses under his breath, a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, his strokes gradually losing their relentless rhythm. Your lips found his, taking the plump flesh between your teeth in a quick nip that sent a shiver down Falk's spine. He straightened himself up from his position on top of you, grabbing your hips roughly and slamming into you, determined to make you finish before he did.

"Falk… please…" You gasp out breathlessly, your mind numb with pleasure but it still wasn't enough to send your orgasm crashing over the edge. His fingers were back on your clit in an instant, soft spoken words of praise only adding to your dizzying headrush. He leans down, kissing you deeply as the ever tightening knot in your stomach finally snaps. You let out a muffled scream against his lips, your back arching up off the bed, your chest pressed flush against his. His thrusts became sloppy, any semblance of a rhythm gone as he let his own climax wash over him, both of you collapsing in bed next to each other, the sounds of your labored breathing filling the otherwise silent room. You felt a wet sob start to bubble up in your throat, tears pricking at your eyes as you came down from your high, various thoughts and feelings racing through your mind left you entirely overwhelmed. You sucked in a breath in an attempt to steady yourself, but Falk already noticed that something was wrong.

"Schatz? What's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I?" You shook your head, knowing that if you tried to speak you would just end up crying. He pulls you into his chest, rubbing your back soothingly.

"I'm sorry, just give me a second." You tried to force a laugh.

"Take all the time you need, I'm not going anywhere." He holds you close, skin sticking to his in a tangled mess of limbs.

"You're not going to… stop speaking to me when we get back to the Abbey, are you?" Memories of past situationships blared in your mind, planting a seed of doubt in you. In the past it was always the same. Someone would make you believe they loved you only for them to leave once they got what they wanted.

"Of course not sweetheart." He places a soft kiss on your forehead. "Unfortunately you're stuck with me now." He chuckles. You smile, breathing out a laugh as you place a kiss to his collarbone. He clears his throat, shifting nervously. "I think I might be in love with you." He states quietly, his voice shaking in a way that was impossible to miss.

"Yeah?" You smile up at him, resting your chin on his chest. "How do you know?" The two of you exchange a bashful grin.

"Four years ago…" he starts his story, mulling over the details for a moment before continuing. "You were making some huge spectacle because Attila did something to piss you off." You laughed, that definitely sounded like something you would do. "You left the Abbey, you said you were going to some concert and you were going to stay the night at a friend's place or something. I don't remember all the details." He began playing with your hair, twisting a strand between his fingers. "You called me at one in the morning in hysterics asking if I could come pick you up. The entire way there I wasn't thinking about how tired I was or about the three hours drive ahead of me. The only thing that I could think of was whether or not you were safe, if anything had happened to you there would have been hell to pay when I got there. When I pulled up… and you rushed into my arms… and I just got the chance to hold you. I think that was when I knew." You place a soft kiss to his chest before nuzzling your face against him.

"I felt so bad asking you to drive all that way." You laugh quietly. You trace your fingers over the intricate tattoos on his arms before resting your hand on the side of his face, languidly running your thumb across his cheek. "I love you, Falk."

"I love you too, Schatz." He returns the confession with a smile, pulling you into a lingering kiss before the two of you drifted off in each other's arms.

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

Taglist: @ramblingoak @mustluvecho @moss-the-moth @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @kissingghouls @jennmakesitweird @gothdaddyissues @jumpcauseimfroggy @belnovacaine @iamsarahsaysso @angellayercake @vampghoulette @rabidghoul @littlegirlsdontplaynice (I think I got everyone if I missed you let me know!!)

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indigowallbreaker · 1 year

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“Hey, come here. It’s alright.” from the soft prompts for dedubert (with mer!Hubert?)

I've been so hype for this one since it came in THANK YOU FOR THIS!!! ALWAYS HERE TO WRITE DEDUBERT FOR YOU <3

(Taking MerMay Rarepair prompts until the end of May!)

The water was almost level with Dedue's shoulders. He looked between the mouth of the cave tunnel far above him and the glowing green eyes across the cavern, trying to decide a path.

"You must have heard dreadful things about my kind to hesitate so long," the glowing eyes said.

Dedue tugged against the weight shackled to his ankle to try and see up the tunnel better. More than likely, the mercenaries who had put him here were camped out at the mouth of the tunnel, ready to subdue him again if he tried to run for it. They would either wait until the tide receded to shackle him once more, or just kill him outright. Either way, above him was only death.

Whereas down here...

The glowing eyes belonged to a mermaid. Not a mermaid from stories meant to excite a child's imagination before bed-- this was a mermaid straight from the deepest parts of nightmare. A character from a fireside tale told by the oldest of sailors. This mermaid in particular sported skin so pale it was nearly translucent, a tail black as ink, and eyes that seemed to pierce Dedue as they narrowed. Allowing this mermaid close could also mean death.

"Let me cut you free," the glowing eyes said slowly, "and I will lead you from this place."

"Why would you want to help me?"

The mermaid's chuckle made the water now rising to Dedue's chin feel all the colder. "You would spend precious time interrogating me? Surely your curiosity can wait. You don't have much time left."

Dedue took one last look up at the tunnel. Force his way through a camp of mercenaries, or trust a mermaid. It was time to choose his ending.

"What is your name?" Dedue asked.

The mermaid swam closer. "You may call me Hubert."

"Hubert. Lead the way."

Hubert smiled with all his teeth. Without hesitation, he dove under the water, moving towards Dedue's bound ankles. A swipe from his claws had Dedue free. He wasted no time in kicking off the ropes and weights, now able to tread water. Hubert broke the surface and grabbed Dedue's arm.

For a moment, Dedue was sure he would be dragged under and gutted. But Hubert's claws didn't even graze Dedude's skin as he clasped their hands together.

"Take a deep breath," Hubert warned.

Dedue did just that-- and then let the water envelope him.

With a tight grip on Dedue's hand, Hubert pulled him to an opening in the cave wall. It was just wide enough for them to swim side by side. Dedue suspected they wouldn't have fit at all except that Hubert was thin as seaweed and just as flexible, guiding them around corners with fluidity.

Dedue's lungs began to burn. He squeezed Hubert's hand. In answer, Hubert swam faster, his tail brushing Dedue's legs. The tail wasn't completely black, Dedue now noticed. Each scale was edged in wine red. Hubert's hand was warm, his expression nearing panic. It made Dedue consider if, perhaps, those nightmarish tales had been wrong.

With one final sharp turn, the pair sped out into the open ocean. Dedue's vision was fading, and Hubert immediately angled them upward, pulling Dedue along almost entirely on his own strength.

Dedue broke the surface with a gasp. He let go of Hubert's hand to keep himself afloat, flailing about ungraciously as air flooded his lungs once again.

Arms wrapped around his torso. Dedue jerked, trying to pull away. "Come here. It’s alright," soothed Hubert. "Just breathe."

There was little point in being suspicious of Hubert now. Dedue let Hubert hold him close, bowing his head into Hubert's shoulder and panting hard. Hubert and his not-quite-black tail keep them from sinking, and so Dedue could concentrate on simply breathing.

After several quiet moments, Dedue managed to say, "Thank you." His voice was hoarse and strained. Hubert didn't release him. For a moment, Dedue thought Hubert hadn't heard him. His claws skimmed up and down Dedue's back in a soothing rhythm. "I assume you... want something in return?" Dedue panted when Hubert didn't speak.

"Worry on that later," Hubert said. "Catch your breath and I will point you to shore. Then we will talk."

Those last words would have sounded menacing if it weren't for Hubert's careful strokes over Dedue's skin. This was absolutely not a creature of nightmare. It was possible Hubert was simply the exception but Dedue didn't care. For better or for worse, he owed this mermaid a debt, and Dedue didn't think he minded all that much.

#fire emblem three houses #hubert von vestra #dedue molinaro #dedubert #mermay rare pair run #rare pair run #softdedue #ahhh you dont understand this has been eatting me!!!#i wanted to get it right sorry for the delay

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understance · 11 months

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Fic idea - Terzo trying to teach you Italian. He teaches you a dirty phrase. You have no idea. Hilarity ensues.

i tried my darndest to get this finished and out as quickly as possible! i hope you enjoy <3

“No no no no- it’s amo, my love. Ah-moe. Try again.” Terzo gave you a small encouraging smile from his spot across from you. The two of you sat at a small table in a corner of the ghouls common room, drinking tea and eating snacks. You had been there for about an hour before Terzo suggested teaching you a bit of Italian, as a way to pass the downtime.

You nodded, copying the way he had pronounced the word. putting it into a full sentence,”Ti amo?” You questioned, looking up at him for signs of approval or disapproval. “Ah-ha! There you go! I told you you’d get the hang of it.” He exclaimed, looking at you with what could only be described as admiration.

You smiled, muttering a small thanks and ducking your head shyly. Terzo takes a sip of his tea and thinks for a moment- racking his brain for other words and phrases he could teach you. After not even a second of debating on whether or not this was a good idea, he quirks his eyebrows up, setting down his mug and readjusting in his seat. “Oh, i’ve got another good one. How about you try ‘dovremmo scopare’. ”

Without hesitation, you repeat the words, watching as Terzo tries to stifle a giggle behind his hand. Embarrassment washes over you, “Why are you laughing? What did you just make me say?” He only shakes his head, lowering his hand and successfully pushing down his giggle-fit.

“It just means ‘you’re handsome’, nothing bad, I promise.” He lies straight through his teeth, holding his hands up in mock innocence. You glare at him for a second before coming to the conclusion that he would never make you say anything bad that could get you into trouble. “Hm, alright then.” You huff, taking a swig of your tea.

After a brief (and slightly awkward) silence, Terzo’s eyes light up with another stupid idea. “Say…why don’t you go say that to our dear Omega? I’m sure he could use a sweet, small pick-me-up.” He nods towards the couch where the quintessence ghoul sat with Dewdrop and Alpha, browsing through TV channels.

You think it over. While it could potentially come off as creepy and forward, he has been having a particularly rough week. With balancing his nurse duties, helping Aether ease in the new quintessence ghoul, and struggling with helping out paying taxes, he’s had a lot on his plate.

“Sure, why not?”

You take one last drink from your tea and stand up, walking over to the couch and stopping to stand off to the side -by the armrest- next to where Omega was sat. “Hey, Omega?” He turns his attention from the TV to you, fully rotating his torso, and smiles. “Hello there, caro. What can I do for you?”

You shuffle your feet anxisoulsy, slightly intimidated by the big ghoul before you. Even while sitting, it was hard to ignore his size. You take a deep breath and hit a metaphorical ‘fuck it’ button in your brain, “Dovremmo scopare.”

You watch as Omega’s expression changes- eyebrows shooting up and mouth falling open in surprise. From further down the couch, Dew bursts into laughter- gripping at his stomach and folding over himself.

Immediately you realize somethings wrong. You damn near give yourself whiplash from how fast you turn to face Terzo, watching as he too begins to laugh. Your stomach drops, “What did I just say?!”

Terzo tries to answer, but everytime he opens his mouth to speak he laughs even harder at his own stupid, childish joke. Alpha pipes in from the other end of the couch, “Uh, it means ‘we should fuck’.”

Horror washes over you. You cover your face and sink to the floor, wishing it would consume you and drag you down into the deepest pit of Hell. You just said that to Omega. OMEGA. One of the most well respected, mature, and powerful ghouls in all of the Clergy. Scratch that- the most powerful ghoul in the Clergy.

Omega reaches over to lightly pat your back, both comforting and reassuring you that he didn’t think you were a complete weirdo.

You were going to drown Terzo, you decided.

#the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #the band ghost fic #fanfic #the band ghost #ghost #ghost terzo #omega ghoul #alpha ghoul #dew ghoul

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grumpygreenwitch · 11 months

Text

A Tale of Eden 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

THIS IS IT.

I was very, very sick when I was writing the tail end of this thing. I’m mostly concerned with if the tone of the scenes here carries through well. It gets very violent, as the truth of things comes out. But it’s a happy ending! For the people who matter, anyway.

As always, thank you so much for coming all this way with me. If you have the spoons, I’d love a few quick answers:

1. Favorite character. 2. Favorite scene. 3. Character you love to hate. 4. Any character or scene that dragged on. 5. Anyone/Anything you’d like to see more of.

They laid there, limp and sated in the warm dark, until Marcus rolled them over and provoked an immediate and irate warble of protest from Aire. “You don’t have to move, my sprite.” The half-troll’s voice was amused. “I rather like the sight of you sprawled there in my bed.”

“Are trolls always this decadent?”

“No,” was all Marcus would say as he found a towel and scrubbed himself clean, tossing it aside and picking up a different one with which he started to rub Aire’s stomach and chest clean.

It took the mageling a moment to realize what had been said. “Oh… Oh! It’s from your other half!” He half-rose on the bed, only to be left wanting when the half-troll meandered into the bathroom, chuckling. “Liiiiight,” he whined, sprawling gracefully on the tangled bedsheets when Marcus returned and offered him a glass of water. “Have you got a whole second apartment in there?”

“No, but I do like to be prepared.” He waggled the glass at Aire, who finally gave up and snatched it. “That was not a fair rule.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, if you wanted fair you should have negotiated in advance.” When Marcus tried to slip into the bed with him, the mageling put up a foot and planted it against the bouncer’s stomach.

Marcus looked down slowly. Aire focused furiously on his water, because when the half-troll looked up the force of his predatory intent felt like heat on his skin. A hand cradled the heel of that foot. “So what keeps me,” the half-troll asked conversationally, “from kissing my way starting here,” he brought the foot up to his face and kissed silk-gentle the top of it, “and working my way up?” “Nothing,” Aire had to admit hoarsely.

“Hm.” Marcus kissed the mageling’s ankle just as delicately. “And once I get up there, and put my mouth where I really want it to be, what then?” Aire’s breath caught, and he slipped fully down onto the bed, blindly looking for a spot to set aside the glass. Marcus was up to his knee by the time he found a nightstand, and all of the leaner man’s body was tingling. In desperation, he brought up his other foot and braced it on the bouncer’s shoulder. “Marc!”

“Ah, twice the possibilities, I’m showered with gifts.” “You’re laughing at me!”

“Not at you, sprite, at your impatience.”

“Marc, you have got to lay me sometime tonight.” “You’re not prepared, sprite, and I’m not… average.” Marcus looked down at himself.

Aire’s gaze helplessly followed and a body-wide shiver took him. He threw an arm over his face in a last-ditch effort to corral his wits into place. “I’m going to strangle you.” “Kinky.”

“Ugh!” He drew the deepest breath he could, and focused on that spot within himself that guttered and tried to go out so often, but never quite managed. And then he thought, keenly focused on a particular body part: open and relax. Marcus paused. “Did you just do magic?” Aire blew out the breath he’d been holding when he felt the magic catch. “You did hear me say half-Chantry, right?” He peeked at the half-troll from under his arm.

“Yes, but that was so unlike a mage. It felt almost gentle.” “It’s small, it’s pathetic and if I try anything too big it fizzles out and leaves me with a five-day migraine. I told you. Eyesore. Why would they bother looking for me, I’m barely a mage. It probably isn’t even visible with you existing this close to me.” “Mm, what did you do?” When Aire didn’t answer, instead going brightly scarlet in the dark, Marcus put down the legs he’d been cherishing and knelt between them, prowling slowly but surely closer. “Aire, what did you do?” “Stop that. Go away.” Groping about Aire found a pillow and threw it at Marc.

The half-troll snatched it out of mid-air, since his sprite couldn’t see him do so, and kissed the thighs he’d grown dangerously close to. “What did you do?”

A frustrated, high-pitched sound of protest answered him, and then finally, grudgingly, “Prepared myself.” Marc burst out laughing. He crawled his way past every sinfully tempting inch of his sprite, pulled on the lip that Aire was chewing to death, and kissed him slowly. “Is this old troll too slow for you?” “Yes! No! Ugh. Lavish me with attention some other time!” Aire leaned up, grabbed Marcus’ head roughly and kissed that smiling, generous mouth. “This is entirely your fault, you’ve got me in a froth.” “I’m so sorry,” the half-troll demurred. “Would it help if I let you control the pace?” “Yes!” “And will you promise not to hurt yourself?” When the question got him a scandalized exclamation he knelt back and put both his hands up in surrender. “Unduly!”

Aire tackled him into the bed and bit him, hard and everywhere, until the half-troll’s last roar left the windows shaking and his lover sprawled on his chest, laughing breathlessly. “Horrible man.” “The worst,” Marcus agreed roughly, then snatched up a ragged breath when his sprite fully straddled him.

“Are your neighbors going to hate you?” “Tenants. Behind excellent privacy protections.” “Do you own the whole building? “Yes. It’s the only way to get a structure fully protected with Fairy magic.” He reached up to brush that dangerous mouth. “Still caring for you, my sprite.”

Aire leaned helplessly into that hand, caught it in both of his and kissed the cup of it. “Yes trade.” Marcus went very still. “Aire, you don’t have to -” “No, but I want to. For you, I want to.” Then he laughed, breathlessly, as in disbelief at what he’d done, clinging to that hand and pressing it to his chest. Suddenly his laughter turned far more free and merry. “And you’re poking me in the butt! Give me that lube, where did it go?”

***

Aire’s second mistake was to accept happiness.

He still tried to sneak into Eden, but the security staff knew him at that point, and they merely waved him on. Which was a terrible blow to his dignity and his sense of being so very good at sneaking, but it still didn’t stop him. Those nights he spent dancing, lost in the ebb and flow of the music and the crowd, a single beat of that immense heart. Sometimes he’d see a bouncer come by, sometimes it’d be Marcus, and he’d scurry off to get himself a club soda, to let the power he couldn’t feel seething inside him settle down until the telltales stopped jumping. Before last call it was always Marcus, and Aire would go home with the Head of Security.

Sometimes he simply showed up at the half-troll’s place just before dawn, crawling into bed and into the warmth of those arms, the safety of that touch. Marcus never asked him to stay, there was always a pass to Eden hidden in a pocket of Aire’s clothing, but every time, every chance, he made sure the mageling knew he was missed when he was gone.

Aire could feel his time running out. Next time, he always told himself. Next time I’ll tell him I’m leaving. Next time I’ll tell him I can’t stay.

But the very thought of “next time” always shattered him and he couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t think of doing that to the half-troll, to watch his heart break all over again, after so many unkind, indifferent lovers. Aire didn’t want to be like that.

Marcus had left Aire in their bed that evening, sleep-tousled, covered in hickies and wrapped in one of the bouncer’s many custom-fitted jackets, with a pointed reminder to eat something, he was keeping normal food in the place just for his sprite, some of it should be eaten before it went bad. Aire had slept, showered, eaten anything in the kitchen that wasn’t nailed down.

Then he’d summoned up what little magic he could use, and brought his paints and glitters out of the ether.

He was beginning to think that might have been the one act that had betrayed him.

The mageling had made ready for the club by hiding all the marks the horribly mouthy monster he adored had left on him, well aware that it was only going to spur Marcus into putting more of them on his skin. When he stepped out into the night, the winter’s dry chill make him huddle even more deeply into the borrowed/stolen jacket, breathing deeply of the night air and the half-troll’s lingering scent, already coming up with a dozen excuses why “next time” could be “next next time”. He shimmied in simple, unabashed delight on the mostly empty sidewalk, drawing a grin from the couple coming up his way.

That moment of whimsy saved his life.

The shot that should have cut him in half blasted instead through his left side, just below the last of his ribs. Aire staggered forward at the sheer force of it. He hadn’t even heard it coming, and for a moment he didn’t hear anything after, only the faint whisper of the breeze.

The world came back to him in swift, split-second snapshots.

The sound of wings, high above.

The scream of the woman who’d just smiled at him.

The scent of his blood, pouring out of him.

Aire turned the stagger into a scrabble, the scrabble into a run, the run into a full-out sprint. They’d found him. How?! How many?! He was three blocks from Eden and the Sanctuary of the Small.

The small hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight, and he leapt up as high as he could. Three javelins made of light and celestial fire slammed past him and into the street. A car, coming straight at them, swerved wildly, brakes screeching; the far-most sliced a corner off and the vehicle went careening out of control.

They’d been going for his knees. They’d done that before. The landing jarred the wound on Aire’s side into blinding agony that nearly sent him falling once again, but he gritted his teeth. And ran.

Three blocks.

Aire cut a corner as something large and heavy landed behind him, and waved his hand behind him, summoning up the only magic he knew for a fact would answer his call. Shadows, smog, thin threads of fog and smoke rose from the ground and flowed off the walls, hiding him. “He went this way!” A woman’s voice shouted.

Crap!

Aire twisted around a dumpster, charging into a street far too full of people for his tastes; he was well aware that they didn’t care about collateral damage. They just wanted his head on a pike and his heart crushed underfoot. And now they could track his magic, which they’d never been able to do before. Was the Chantry helping them? The Chantry never helped anyone!

He ignored all his useless panicked thoughts, knowing them exactly for that. He ignored the blazing agony, the feel of his blood flooding out of him and soaking the hoodie he’d been wearing under Marcus’ jacket. He sprinted into traffic and was across before the drivers could even register him.

Two blocks.

Somewhere behind cars screeched to a halt and drivers leaned angrily on their horns. “Don’t make them angry don’t make them angry they don’t care don’t make them angry -” A fireball went off behind him, and screaming filled the night. Aire whimpered, ducked his head, and tried to force just a little more speed out of his body, but it was quickly rousing to the fact that there was a very large hole on it, gushing blood. He burst out into the street -

- and directly into a Celestial blade.

The sword went through his shoulder, low enough to mind the bones, high enough to miss the blood vessels. As strikes went, Aire couldn’t have been luckier. It still knocked the breath right out of him, his ears filled with the terrible, staccato drum of his racing heart, with the chaos-filled tidal surge of his blood, with the single, ineffable note that was his life.

The angel was tall, blond, blue-eyed, exactly as mortals expected him to be these days. He was also powerfully muscular, a warrior through and through, and he looked just as surprised to have skewered Aire as the mageling looked to have been skewered. He opened his mouth to call out for the rest of the hunting party -

Aire’s instincts slammed back into overdrive. He grabbed the angel’s face and focused, as hard as he could on a single word, a single concept, one reality.

Soap!

The angel tried to shout, and a mass of bubbles came out of his mouth. He looked, if anything, even more disconcerted. Aire shoved him away and the Celestial staggered back, bubbles and foam pouring out of his mouth, his ears, his nose. By the time Aire stumbled across the street, he’d gone down to one knee and they were coming out of his eyes.

One block.

Aire dove into an alley, crashed into a wall with his bad shoulder and nearly passed out. He hardly recognized the thin, frightened little animal wail as his own when it came out of his mouth.

But Aire had also spent most of his adult life running, hiding and, above all, surviving. He staggered upright. Behind him someone cried out, “Ruachel!” Aire ran.

He crashed through the crowd at Eden’s entrance, staggered past their offended sounds. The bouncers might have caught him if he’d been gunning for the door, but instead he darted into the security booth and collapsed in a corner. “Marcus!” “What in the bright green leaves -!” Someone exclaimed. A hand reached out for him and he batted it away. “Marcus, I want Marcus!”

“Skuld, I smell blood.” A male’s voice pointed out. She had turned away and was speaking into her mike, lifting a finger to buy herself some time. The man speaking crouched by Aire. “I just want to see what’s wrong, kid.” Aire hissed at him, but his strength was ebbing away as quickly as the blood was running out of him. Only the voluminous folds of Marcus’ jacket were keeping his secret still, and he could feel the satin lining growing heavy and damp. “Marcus,” he pleaded. “He’s coming,” the man assured him, reaching for the jacket, and Aire didn’t have the strength to hold him back anymore. “I just wanna -”

In the shocked silence that descended upon them, the only sounds were those of the panicked, confused guests waiting at the door. Marcus charged in like a storm. “Where is -” “Oh, crap,” the other man said. Skuld was staring in disbelief at the blood spilling out of Aire, rich living crimson mingled with the most beautiful gold ichor. The young immortal’s entire chest was bathed in those two colors. “He’s a fucking Nephilim?!”

Marcus exploded into motion, crouching by Aire and dragging his lover into his arm. “You know that secret I gave you to keep,” Aire croaked. “That was the cheap half.” “Shh, don’t talk, Aire.” “Marcus -” “Skuld, close the doors. No one comes in.” “Marcus, don’t do this,” she gaped at him. “No one comes in,” he barked at his people, his voice clipping out every word. “Anyone who wants to, leaves, tab or no tab.” “Holy Moon Mother, Marcus, why -” “Because they’re probably inside already and they’re not gonna give a fuck about collateral damage!” he snapped at the other man. “Aire, hold on to me.” “Marc, I’m so tired.” “Hold onto me, my sprite.” The Head of Security charged out and into the staff elevator. “Marc, don’t do this!” Skuld called out one last despairing time, well aware her boss was absolutely going to put his life on the line for a scrawny Nephilim. The elevator roared upward when Marcus inputted his emergency code, and Aire let out a high, distressed sound before passing out altogether in the half-troll’s arms. Marcus dug off one of his gloves with his teeth and curled that hand around his sprite’s cheek. “Hold on, Aire.” The door opened in front of an angel.

To say the bird stuck out like a sore thumb was an understatement. He wore the flimsy white veils that were mandatory attire in the Ivory Citadel, a painfully white tunic and a long loincloth, golden boots. He was wearing no armor; apparently one measly Nephilim didn’t merit it. Blue eyes went very wide at the sight of a man both larger and angrier than him, and he lunged for his weapon.

Someone nearby screamed.

Marcus lunged forward and grabbed the angel by the throat. Blood, gold and holy and living, splattered out when bronze fingers sank into the angel’s flesh as if it were tissue paper. The bird tried to warp reality around him instinctively, to take on a shape that Marcus couldn’t harm. He looked even more disconcerted when he realized he couldn’t. Marcus yanked him close and took a massive bite out of his shoulder, tunic and all. Golden blood went flying, the angel howled in agony and the half-troll shoved him away into a planter. Both Celestial and plant went down. More people screamed and Marcus ran. He spat out the bit of tunic. He didn’t spit out the flesh.

He could see them then, converging on him through the many levels of Eden, trying to cut him off. He was almost to the Council elevator when a hand clutched at Aire’s head and his sprite cried out. Marcus roared, bent down, and bit right through the wrist of that hand. The doors of the elevator closed between him and their pursuers, and he gently pried that hand off Aire’s head, throwing it casually aside. “My sprite,” he murmured, nuzzling the Nephilim’s forehead, terrified at how cool and pale he was. “My troll,” Aire breathed out, barely audible.

The elevator doors open to the Council chamber. It was a generous loft space, dominated on one side by the immense table where the Council sat if all of their members were in attendance. At the moment there was only one chair occupied, though the minotaur’s paperwork was threatening to devour all the beautifully polished wood. Behind him a tall, stately man in a dark charcoal suit was staring at the city, beautifully sprawled out under a clear night sky.

There was a sitting area to one side, elegantly comfortable couches and chaise longes; there was a kitchen, barely visible past the sitting area, and a wall full of ledgers and archives.

Marcus locked the elevator, raced out, and crashed down on one knee before the step that led up to that archive area. “Before the Council of Eden I invoke the Sanctuary of the Small.”

A woman had been lounging indolently before the shelves, reading from a ledger. Like most Fae, she was painfully beautiful, all the more when surrounded by immortals and inhumans that didn’t need her to cloak herself in glamour. She was all sharp angles and bejeweled colors, wearing a pant-suit that well served those hues. She took one look at Aire’s twice-colored blood and gasped as if Marcus had personally slapped her. “Absolutely not! Eden is not meant to serve as shield to every mongrel and half-breed that comes through -” She’d been stalking toward Marcus and Aire, and the half-troll’s eyes had flashed the brightest, most violent crimson as she spoke, a snarl building up in his chest. Before anything truly unbecoming could happen, the man at the window was suddenly there between them, his back to Marcus, facing the Fey woman.

“I’m sure the Princess is merely off-guard.” Aire shivered. The man’s voice was even deeper than Marcus’, a profound and elegant true bass. “And she of course knows that it is never wise to come between a dragon and what he hoards.”

She flushed a deep, deep silver.

“I was there.” The minotaur had roused from his chair. He was the largest creature in the room by far, and yet he was very small for a minos, his voice a pleasantly accented, Iberian tenor. Solid black except for the tip of his horns and the first vestiges of age around his muzzle, at a rough ten feet tall he was a living statue made of polished black basalt. “I was there when the Council was given ownership of Eden. We had hardly finished washing the blood off the floors and walls when the oath was taken for the Sanctuary of the Small, to truly make Eden neutral ground under the Thirteen Accords. Does Princess Eylygh think we should cast that oath aside now as an… inconvenience?”

What color had seeped into the Princess’ imperious features vanished in a split second, leaving her as pale as ice. “Perhaps I spoke too quickly, out of surprise,” she admitted.

Marcus’ arms tightened around the Nephilim. The man looked over his shoulder at the Head of Security. “My son, are you alright?” “Yes, sir.” The light of fury in Marcus’ eyes was quickly dulling, and he dipped his head respectfully. The motion made him realize why his sire was asking. “Oh. No, it’s not my blood.” “It’s mine,” Aire croaked. “And the two guys he bit.” A tousled head suddenly popped up from one of the couches. “Nick?”

Aire was beginning to believe, against all hope, that things would be alright. He wouldn’t have been able to be surprised if the Chantry itself had come down from the heavens as one and requested his presence as their Magister. “Hello, uncle.”

“Kid!” The man that leapt over the couch was tall and lean and, to put it politely, a hobo. He wore a faded tee and worn blue jeans, battered curb-stompers and a longcoat that had absolutely seen better days. He raked his hands through his black, curling hair and rubbed his face as he rushed all the way down to kneel next to Marcus and Aire. “Nicael, what happened!” “It’s Aire!” the Nephilim protested vaguely. “Right, right, sorry, my bad, Aire. What happened?”

“Um. I repeated myself.” “Aire,” Marcus protested. “Shut up. I chose to. I did it. It was stupid and I’d do it again for you.” Aire’s uncle looked sharply at Marcus at that. “They’ve been on me since I walked out onto the street.”

Marcus was having trouble thinking. The man Aire called uncle wasn’t just beautiful; his was the beauty, the elegance, the raw appeal that broke hearts and minds and souls. Marcus had seen him on the floor, but always from afar; he’d never been so close to the Morningstar. The scent of drought and burning strawberry fields gave him the strength he needed to look away, clutching his sprite tightly. “Bring him over here, set him down. I take it they’re still here?” Aire’s uncle led the way to the couch where he’d been sleeping. “Yes, sir,” Marcus replied as he did so. “I told security to close the doors. No one in, everyone out.” The Princess gasped, but before she could speak he forged on. “I’ll pay any tab that goes unpaid at the end of the night.”

“Ah, what good is a hoard if one cannot use it as a bludgeon every now and again,” Marcus’ father mused, humor in his deep voice.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you still owe me ten bucks, Balthasar.” “I am waiting for an appeal on the result of our bet.” “Appeal from who?!” Lucifer had gently opened the oversized jacket and Aire’s hoodie, his hands sure and steady as he examined the Nephilim’s injuries. “The First bloody Egg?” Aire moaned in pain and his uncle’s full attention came back to him. “Sorry, kid. Alright, here’s the thing. Aire, are you listening?” To a faint nod, he went on. “This is way too bad for a walking solution. So I’m gonna put you deep into a healing sleep, alright?” Not missing how Aire’s hand convulsively clutched Marcus’, or how the bouncer’s entire body tightened up defensively, he added, “and your friend – Balt, what’s your kid’s name?”

“Marcus, sir,” Marcus replied instead. “Okay. Your friend Marcus and Milo,” he looked up, got a nod from the minotaur, “are gonna stay here with you while I go down and deal with this.” “I’m sorry, uncle,” Aire protested exhaustedly as friendly hands helped him lie down. Two people had ever, in his short lifetime, cared for him, truly cared, and now he’d dragged a bloody fight to both of them. “No, no, Aire.” Lucifer caught the Nephilim’s face in his calloused hands. “Don’t you be sorry for wanting a life, kid. Life is will, and will is choice, and you have a right to all three of them. This has been coming a long time. I promise, you’ll be safe by tomorrow.” Gently, so gently, he leaned close and kissed the Nephilim’s forehead. Aire went limp and they helped him lie down, the Morningstar shrugging off his coat to cover him. “It shouldn’t come to it,” he told Milo and Marcus, “but just in case.” The minotaur had gone back to the table. From the far side of his chair he picked up a tremendous, spiked mace, the thorns of it blackened with age and violence. He wielded it like it was a feather. “Go. This is not how I hoped to solve this issue, not at the cost of another youngling’s life. But solve it you must.”

“I think I shall be coming with you, Light,” Balthasar said casually as he followed the Morningstar into the elevator. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you at work. I would not want to miss it.”

Princess Eylygh slipped into the elevator with them. “I am here to represent the interests of my people, nothing else,” she told the two males tartly, typing furiously into her phone and distractedly clothing herself into an elfin seeming.

Lucifer caught sight of the angel’s severed hand off to one side and picked it up, giving Balthasar a look. “Nice.” “That’s not me,” the dragon readily admitted. “That’s his mother’s blood.” “Neat all the same.” The doors opened onto a scene of barely controlled chaos. Before the elevator, practically all of Eden’s security had come together, standing snarling, growling, or quietly seething before the Ivory Citadel’s hunting party. Beyond them both, the rest of the staff was quietly urging the guests to leave, just in case. Some of them were taking their advice. Most of them weren’t. The level of noise was phenomenal. “Balt.” “Of course.” The dragon took a deep breath as Lucifer and Eylygh both covered their ears. “QUIET!”

The bellow rattled every window, cracked a number of glass panes, sent the bouncers directly before Balthasar staggering and caused the angels to skid back despite their best efforts.

The silence that followed was absolute. It felt as if even the decorative fountains had stopped flowing for a moment. “Thanks, Balt.”

“Anytime.” Lucifer stepped forward, offering a hand to the seven-foot tall woman who’d been nearly bowled over by the dragon. “Sorry, Skuld,” he said quietly. “No problem, sir,” she replied, her eyes full of lightning and her attention fully on the angels, even as she shook her head to clear it.

There were seven of them, six of them young, and Lucifer was unsurprised to find a familiar face leading the charge. “Micah.” “Samail,” she hissed out between gritted teeth. Of the seven angels present, she alone wore armor, a silvery chestplate engraved with the Words in her petalon, her every name and portfolio, everything she was capable of doing or denying. She was a short, stocky woman with nearly white hair cut in a curling bob, pale blue eyes and the white linen clothing typical of the Ivory Citadel. It should have made her look washed out, pale; instead she looked as deadly as the sword in her hand.

“Oh, we’re opening up the talks with name-calling, I see.” The Morningstar looked wholly unfazed. His eyes roamed over the Celestial hunting party until he found who he was looking for. “Oi, Stumpy!” When the angel looked up, he threw the hand at her. By default she had to let go of her sword to catch the limb, pressing it to her bleeding stump, the weapon dissipating into thin air. “That’s yours, I hear.”

“Give us the mongrel, and there will be no need of violence.” “Mongrel.” Lucifer popped his lips. “Gosh, I’ve never liked that word.” He leaned back. “No,” he replied casually. Micah laughed in disbelief. “You cannot expect this place will protect him. This is a den of debauchery, a hole in the ground. You little playground for decadence and vice cannot, will not, survive the full fury of the Ivory Citadel.” “True,” Lucifer admitted readily. Out of the corner of one eye he could see that Eylygh was profoundly incensed: the Princess was terribly protective of their little hole in the ground. The Faerie Kingdoms have been paid handsomely to make Eden all but impregnable, and they were all thoroughly proud of what they’d achieved. He began to walk around the hunting party; they weren’t stupid, they turned with him, the deadliest predator in the room. “See, that’s not your problem, Micah. Your problem’s what it’s always been: lack of foresight.” He found the angel who was bleeding profusely from a shoulder and slapped his hand lightly on the wound. They all jumped, but by the time the Celestial howled in pain and realized his wound had been cauterized shut, the Morningstar had moved on.

“I am not interested in your theatrics, Betrayer. I want the Nephilim.” Lucifer stopped to pointedly sniff at another angel, who looked as if he’d been half-soaked and badly hung to dry, and after a moment of confusion came back before her. “And you can’t have him. The funny thing is, you still think this is between you and Eden. This is why you brought a half-flight, unarmored. For show. To brag.” He was leaning closer and closer until he was nose to nose with the shorter angel. “To fucking bully. You think because Sariel got away with it once, that you could too. And when things didn’t go your way, you’re still too ferociously stupid to know to quit when you’re ahead.” “Our Creator has commanded -” “Did they? Well, goodness, why didn’t anyone tell me the Creator was back from whatever navel-gazing coma has devoured Them for the past few millennia?”

The angels behind Micah shifted restlessly, and the first crack showed in that raging, firm facade. Lucifer smiled. “You didn’t tell them.” “I speak for the Creator, I am Their voice. I command -” “You guess, Micah. And your guesses are shit most of the time. You pulled off some good ones when you were still listening to the rest of the family, but since you stopped, oh, I could tell. I’d like to remind you that since our Creator went down Their rabbit hole, They’ve come up once.” He lifted a finger. “Once. For me.”

“How dare you -” “You came after the kid,” Lucifer snarled, and suddenly wings as black as those of the hunting party’s were white unfurled behind him, gleaming with hellfire. “I told you lot to lay off and you still came after the kid.” “You do not command -” “No, but I sure do kick ass. So here’s the deal, Micah. You back off. Or right here, right now. I shout the truth of your little lie about the Creator to the entire club. Sing it right into their heads like a fucking tumor. I’m sure you can kill your birds. They look young and dumb.” The young and dumb birds shifted uncertainly, but Lucifer paid them no mind. “I’m sure you can kill a few of the beings here. But you can’t kill them all. By morning the truth will be out. And if you persist I, the Morningstar, the First Light, Lucifer, the Crown of Hell, will count your stupidity the first, last and only necessary sign of the Apocalyse.” The room had not been silent enough before.

“You would not do this for a single half-breed.” “General Beliale,” Lucifer called out over the deathly stillness. “How stand my armies?” The man that rose from a table next to one of the bars was human, at first. As he rose he put on bulk, and by the time he was standing he was twelve feet in every direction if he was an inch, his hide the color of fresh spilled blood, his downward curling horns a monstrous helmet. His eyes shone with hellfire, and his hands were curled into easy fists. He was clad in tarnished armor that shifted and swirled with madness and bloodlust. “My Prince’s armies stand at the ready,” Hell’s First General assured Lucifer with striking calm. Once a man whose only sin had been to love the art and science of war to the exception of everything else in life, he’d found himself cast out of every heaven, until the Morningstar and Hell had given him the only thing he wanted: a chance to prove himself.

Somewhere in the crowd a half dozen voices snarled eagerly. Something cackled like a hyena on the hunt.

“You would not do this.” Micah had gone pale, her eyes full of disbelief. “You don’t know that you’d win.” “If I may,” Balthasar’s resonant bass said. “We like this world as it is. We like its many kinds of wealth, fleeting, novel, so very fun to collect and hoard. Some fade, some last.” He shrugged elegantly. “More room in one’s hoard for the next bit of treasure. “What we don’t like is what the Ivory Citadel plans to do to this world if you win this conflict. Never mind that we cherish our half-bloods, they have drawn us back from extinction too many times to count; a world where everyone is without purpose but worship of a god that no longer even answers…” He shook his head as if Micah were an errant child. “This is not your affair, dragon.” “I am making it my affair,” Balthasar replied. “And by default my people’s.” His voice thrummed, though not quite as deafeningly as before, through the entirety of Eden. “The Claw of all dragons stands with the Crown of Hell.”

Eylygh scoffed into the stunned silence that followed that proclamation, still typing into her phone. “I’m not so dramatic as my counterparts in the Council. I must look to my people’s safety and benefit first. If you chose to start this long-delayed little conflict of yours, we don’t care. In ten years or ten thousand, there will be another world, another race for us to play with.” She finally looked up at that, her golden eyes unfathomable. “I will not risk my people in such a conflict. We will leave for the Outer Places and wait out your squabble there. And we will take all of our protections upon your precious mortals with us.” She turned the phone for Micah to examine. “All I have to do is press a button, and every nightmare that’s been waiting slavering on the Other Side is free. Isn’t mortal technology just wonderful?” Micah was a marble statue. “You would not.” “Why not? What do we care?” Eylygh scoffed openly. “You have such a weird obsession with changelings, angel. Toss them out and stop worrying about them. They live and die well enough on their own.”

In the quiet that followed, Lucifer saw Micah’s eyes dancing as she struggled to find a way out of the trap. “We.like.this.world.” The words were each a whisper, breaking the silence and the walls between realities as they popped. A creature, a being made solely of bubbles had chosen to speak from the crowd, and every word was a burst, their timing not quite perfect. Those directly around It, robe-clad figures with gaunt features and empty eyes, didn’t seem fazed by It at all. Everyone else staggered away, hands clapped to their ears. “Challenged.us.it.has. Clever.prey.its.people.are. Persist.must.it.” “It must persist,” a dozen reverent voices chorused all around the being. “Crown.with.Hell’s.we.stand.” Lucifer was digging at his ear to try and get the ringing inside it to stop. Balthasar shook his head minutely. If Eylygh was affected, she refused to show it. “Thanks, man.” A ripple of color ran through the bubbles.

“You know,” an all too human voice drawled from one of the bar counters. “Mother’s never had a problem with Nephilim.”

The stranger had been sitting at one of the bar counters, full of rubberneckers and eavesdroppers. He’d turned around to speak, and before the words had finished coming out the counter was empty.

Nothing about him seemed unusual; he was a rugged creature, with his own kind of harsh beauty, dressed as casually as the Morningstar. He slid over the milkshake he’d been enjoying, and pinned a very level gaze on Micah. “Rogue angels, though. Those, Mother minds. Those she minds very much.” “We are sane, Gideonite,” Micah ground out, even though her hunting party had shifted a silent half-step away from the man.

“Are you? You keep picking a fight with kids that, far as I can tell, have done nothing to you except exist. What part of that’s sane?” “End this quickly, Lucifer,” Eylygh suddenly murmured. “Or someone else might end it for us.” She tipped her chin to lead his eyes, and the Fallen Angel caught his breath. There they stood in serried, luminescent ranks. Eden tended to a healthy undead population because one, the club didn’t mind what they were as long as they paid and behaved, and two, the emotions that seethed through the venue every night were… mild. Like a refreshing drink after a hot day out to undead sensitivities.

In the maelstrom of emotion the angelic hunting party and their violence had provoked, and the ensuing, barely controlled anticipation as Lucifer rallied his allies, that mild drink had become a flooding river, summoning them out en masse from their carefully weather- and light-controlled environments. They didn’t move, they didn’t breathe, they were simply waiting for the dam to break, for some unspoken permission to be given. Micah and her birds didn’t even know they were there, at their back, across a space quickly emptying of club-goers.

And that was the moment Micah chose to make a mistake.

Reality barely rippling, she tried to surge past the Morningstar by going around his presence in the club, in that world.

The hand that snatched her back by the throat was black-taloned and impossibly strong. “Let go.” She swung her sword at him; he caught it in his other hand and flung it aside like a toy.

“That was stupid, Mickey.” He reeled her back in place before him, her wings flapping helplessly until a wave of his hand dismissed them, making her gasp. “Let go of me!” Reality faltered and rippled as she tried to break his grip in that world, those nearby, anywhere. She couldn’t. “Pay attention, Micael.” Lucifer tightened his grip until she could barely breathe, and then drove her down to her knees, despite her every struggle to defy him. His voice was a very, very quiet snarl. “I was old before you were a thought in our Creator’s mind. I was powerful before you ever learned that power existed. I fell because They commanded it, that’s how much I love Them. I came back the once to a place I fucking hate hoping to wake Them. Just for that. And at this point I don’t have patience for your little hate crusade. Do you understand? Do you know how many sin-eaters you’ve killed? I do. Who do you think they come to when you’re done with them? There’s a blight on your heart, my sister. You die now, I’m pretty sure I’ll find you waiting next time I go home. Is that really what you want?”

She struggled, swatting at his hand. The angels tried to surge forward, but Eden’s bouncers had beaten them to the punch, led by the valkyrie, who was giving them all a ferocious, triple-dog-dare smile as she and her comrades stood between them and their leader.

Lucifer tightened his grip. “Is it?” Micah knew herself beaten. The realization sank past her disbelief, her fury, her righteousness, her blind arrogance, all the way to what little core remained of her true self, and she stared up at him blankly. “No.” “Alright. So you want to repeat after me. No more harming Nephilim.” She clawed at his wrist; she’d hung onto her hate for so long that she couldn’t bear to let go of it. Lucifer merely tightened his grip until she’d nearly passed out, then let her wheeze in a coughing breath. “Micah. No more harming Nephilim.” “No more,” she hoarsely declared, “harming Nephilim.” “Ever.” “Ever.”

Lucifer picked her up like a ragdoll and shoved her at her people. “Go home, spread the news. And stay out of our fucking club for a while. I’m not feeling particularly inviting to the Ivory Citadel right now.”

***

Marcus woke up in the darkness of his own home, his own bedroom, his own bed, to find Aire playing with one of his hands, running his fingers delicately over the dust-fine bronze scales that began just shy of the bouncer’s fingernails, running away to disappear under his sleeve. Even his nails, neatly trimmed and manicured, shone like polished metal. He rumbled quietly, sleepily pleased, and slipped his free arm under his sprite, dragging him closer, tucking him under his chin and against his chest. “My sprite.” Nothing else, no other words, no other action, could have so easily and completely obliterated the doubts and worries that Aire had begun to nurse through that early dawn. He felt as if he might cry, and pressed that hand to his heart. “My troll.” He felt Marcus press his face to the back of his neck and breathe deeply. “You smelled it on me.” “I did, but I didn’t know what it was.” “Mm, troll thing?” Marcus chuckled. “No, dragon. Trolls can only tell the difference between stones and dirt and such.” When Aire wriggled around and swatted him, Marcus laughed, rolling them both over until the Nephilim was perched on top of him. “There. Slay me if you must, then.” “Oh, I’ll slay you, you horrible -” Aire was already bending over to kiss the half-troll. “Slay you with your own cock, see if I don’t,” he threatened between kisses. “I thought you liked my cock?” “That doesn’t mean I won’t beat you with it!” Belatedly Aire realized he was clean, not a speck of blood or ichor on him, and floating in one of Marcus’ own shirts. He fell over on that broad chest, clinging tightly. “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

“You’ve brought a very long and pointless slaughter to an end, my sprite.” When Aire looked at him uncomprehendingly, Marcus told him everything that had transpired the night of the attack, beginning with Balthasar’s accounting of the confrontation, and followed by the wildfire spread of the story. A Chantry rep had called in to Eden the following morning, as the ripples of the confrontation reached those who had not been present for it. They had casually mentioned they were happy to defer Aire’s bloodline to his angelic heritage. If the Ivory Citadel had no problem with his existence, neither did they. “They don’t want to further provoke the Light.” Marcus’ father had been deeply amused. “He doesn’t often get directly involved, and many forget he exists. What he’s capable of.”

Milo had offered his quarters beneath Eden to the two of them, but Marcus had been adamant about taking his wounded bird home.

He didn’t, however, tell Aire that his uncle had cornered the half-troll and told him he would wring his neck, be it scrawny lizard gizzard or rough troll gullet, if he hurt Aire in any way, shape or form. While Marcus’ father watched. And laughed quietly. And only to then drag the half-troll close with rough affection and welcome him to the family.

“You don’t have to run anymore, Aire.” By the time Marcus was done talking it was noon behind the curtains, the Nephilim’s hands laced with Marcus’ over the half-troll’s broad chest, and he was nursing a massive hard-on at the sight of his sprite, blithe and safe and stunned at all that had come to pass, gleaming in the gloom like the most precious treasure he would ever guard. “No more hunting Nephilim, not ever again. I told you, my sprite.” He unwound a hand free and reached out to cradle Aire’s cheek, and all but lost his breath when the Nephilim took it in his own and leaned into the touch, eyes closing. “You run a bad risk of being cared for, if you stick with me.” “I don’t even know what to do. I’d always thought I’d spend my life running… Can I stay with you?” “Yes.” “What, just like that!” “Yes.” Marcus grinned. “I’m getting a job.” “I’m sure they’ll suffer you gladly.”

“And I’m helping with the bills!”

“I will lie about them.” Aire started beating him with one of the pillows, and Marcus could only laugh. “You will not!” “I will. Trolls may be terrible liars, but dragons are not, not when it comes to treasure.” He reached up to drag his unruly sprite close, and kissed him until Aire’s murderous intentions had been appeased. “I want you to dance, Aire. I can get you a job at Eden.” “That smacks of nepotism.” “There’s not enough of us all in this world to fill a good-sized sack, sprite. Of course it’s nepotism.” “I don’t believe you. Turn around and take off your shirt. You’re poking me in the ass and I want to see them.” Grinning, Marcus allowed Aire to slip away as he wriggled out of his shirt. The lights came on and he rolled over, groaning in delight when the weight of his lover came to rest on his backside. The most delicate of touches traced the broad scales that marked and protected the run of his spine, and they instantly rose up in ridges, startling a laugh from the Nephilim, musical and sweet. “I mean it, Aire. I want you to dance.” “How do you do that? How do you know me so well?” Aire sprawled on that broad back, clinging to those powerful shoulders. “I know you’re a bird,” Marcus replied evenly, “and I know birds need their flock. That’s what you were looking for in the dance floor every time, isn’t it. To be one of many for just a little while.” “Yes,” Aire admitted without shame. One of the most eusocial of all inhuman breeds, angels didn’t do well alone. They needed to belong, be it to a Flight or a Choir or to something. Loneliness was poison to them. He kissed the back of Marcus’ neck, making the half-troll rumble. “Ugh, you’d be perfect if you weren’t so nice to me.”

“Perfection is overrated,” Marcus declared, half-muffled by the pillow. “And really, do you want me to be mean or do you want me to be rough?”

He got a high, frustrated sound as a response, and a pillow shoved at his laughing face, which Aire pulled away when the half-troll mumbled something beneath it. “What?”

“I said, do you want the job?”

“I want you, Marc.” Aire slipped off the bouncer’s butt and slid under his arm, pressing as close as he could. “Even when I knew I wasn’t free to want anything I wanted you.”

“You have me,” the predator assured him, his voice dropping to the low, low dragon’s rumble it only reached when his hunger had been roused.

“Then the job’s just a perk. Everything’s a perk, long as I have you.” Aire grinned, slow and wicked, at Marcus. “So here’s one for you, my troll. Now you can bite to break skin.”

Rich red light kindled in the half-troll’s eyes, and he kissed Aire until their breath ran out. His unruly sprite still managed to protest. “Just don’t be taking any pieces off!” When the comment made Marcus laugh too hard to keep kissing him, Aire swatted him indignantly. He tried to wriggle away, only to find himself pinned down, that generous mouth running everywhere over the Nephilim’s pale skin.

“Oh, no. No, no, my sprite. You don’t get to offer gifts and then yank them away like a taunt.”

“I said you can, not that you should right away!” Aire was quickly losing any will to resist he might’ve had. It hadn’t been much to begin with, and he moaned helplessly when his shirt was pushed up and out of the way.

“Incidental.” “Ugh, you troll!” Marcus laughed. “Am I? I would have never guessed.” He found a nipple and licked it. “You smell like strawberries, my sprite, do you taste like them too?” “Dare you to find out.”

“Challenge gratefully accepted,” the bouncer growled, and proceeded to do exactly that.

#Eden #Marcus and Aire #Marcus #Aire #Nephilim #religious undertone #modern fantasy #My writing #original writing #modern fantasy writing #profanity #gore and violence

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