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xsister-serpent · 5 months ago

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Whispers Of Power

Chapter II

Summary: Y/N reunites with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, joining him as a trusted advisor despite skepticism from the First Order. In private, Kylo confides his distrust and past betrayals, revealing his vulnerability.

Warnings: Past Betrayals/ Eventually this is have smut but it will be tagged as so/ Slowburn/

Info: Words 2382 / Chapter I / Playlist / Author's Note at end/

He gestured with his head for you to walk with him. The two of you exited the building into a downpour of rain. You pulled up the hood of your black cloak. His footsteps were silent yet commanding. You glanced at the shuttle as a low roll of thunder rumbled across the cloudy sky. This was your place now, a silent ghost following the shadow of The Supreme Leader. Except this time, you could mold him—this Kylo Ren.

Kylo stepped onto his ship, gesturing with a hand for you to follow. Most of the troopers simply stopped to stare at you, a mix of apprehension and awe on their faces. You kept your eyes ahead, following Kylo’s lead.

“No one is to disturb us,” he ordered firmly. He glanced at a tall captain clad in brilliant chrome armor. “Notify me only when we reach the Finalizer.”

“Sir,” she nodded curtly.

Kylo gestured for you to follow him as he headed to his quarters. You silently braced yourself for the private meeting, mentally preparing. You couldn’t help but notice that the chrome captain was the only one he directly addressed. With a hiss, his quarters’ doors opened, and you followed him inside.

“You may rest here until we arrive at the Finalizer,” he said through his metallic voice modulator, standing by the large red window of the command shuttle.

You nodded, lowering your hood. He stayed quiet, his expression unreadable, yet you could feel his mind racing with thoughts. There it was again, that thrumming pulse through the Force, growing louder and making you stiffen slightly.

“May I speak?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

Kylo nodded silently.

“The Reverend Mother said you requested me specifically,” you noted, clasping your hands behind your back. “That you refused to see other members of my sisterhood.”

He turned to look at you, his gaze scanning you from head to toe. “Yes. What of it?”

You held his gaze firmly. Even with his blackened mask, you sensed his thoughts reeling, his heartbeat quickening slightly. “Why?”

“Why does every ruler need an advisor?” he said sharply.

You could almost sense his lips pressing into a thin line beneath the mask. “Everyone around me betrays me. They do nothing but betray me. They lie to me. They use me. I need to ensure loyalty within the Order. I cannot trust anyone from that side of the galaxy. That’s why I came here.”

There was something hidden in his tone, as though he wanted to say more but chose not to. It did not escape your notice. It was like reading a book—he was the book, and you were the reader. Kylo’s fist clenched tightly, sensing your mind probing his thoughts. His heartbeat pounded in your head, like a rapid drum in your skull.

“Enough,” he said sharply, making you pause.

His breathing quickened momentarily before he exhaled slowly, trying to calm his rage. Kylo stepped back, his hands reaching for his helmet. With a sharp hiss, he removed it. You gaped as your eyes took in Kylo’s unmasked face. Ben had aged—he was more of a man now. Whatever softness his features once held had hardened. His longer, darker waves framed his face, his aquiline nose and sharp jawline. His deep-set eyes, however, did not.

“You’ve changed,” you observed softly, stepping closer to him.

“So have you,” he said, placing his helmet on the table beside him. He looked down at you, his brown eyes examining you. “It’s been a while, yet I can feel the Force within you. I can feel how strong you’ve become.”

Seeing you after all these years had unsettled him. You met his gaze, a million thoughts swirling in your mind, but you lost yourself in him.

“Do they know who I am to you?” you asked quietly.

“No. No one knows,” he said, his eyes scanning your face again. “Y/N, you’re the only one I trust now. The only person I can confide in, knowing you will give me your true word.”

You nodded distantly, glancing at the door and then back at him. It was like seeing a ghost—a fleeting glimpse of the boy you once shared a bond with.

“You will be protected. My word is law. The First Order will learn to accept you,” he said, pausing as his gaze lingered on you.

There was no doubt in his voice. Kylo extended his gloved hand, a silent offer of trust. You met his gaze, using your abilities to detect any hint of deception.

“You swear it?” you asked.

“You have my word,” he whispered, his voice gentle but determined. He wouldn’t let any harm come to you—not when he needed you by his side.

You took his forearm in your hand, feeling his muscles tighten under your palm. It was a token of trust, a gesture you had shared before your exile. Kylo seemed to soften under your touch, and in a way, so did you.

“Supreme Leader, we have successfully docked,” said the familiar voice of the chrome captain from the other side of the door.

Reluctantly, Kylo pulled his arm away from your grasp. He replaced his helmet, issuing the command for the door to open.

“Let’s go.”

Kylo walked with you out of his quarters as the doors closed behind you, marching toward the unlatch door of the ship. There, you were greeted by a red-headed general and the chrome-clad captain.

“Supreme Leader,” General Hux addressed him, his gaze shifting to you with a veiled glare. Suspicion was written plainly across his face.

You had anticipated skepticism—if not outright hostility—from some of them. It was no surprise. They didn’t understand your role, your part to play. How could they?

Kylo stepped closer to Hux, narrowing his eyes at him slightly.

“This is my advisor, Y/N of Bene Gesserit,” Kylo said firmly. “She is under my protection, General, from this day forward.”

“As you command, Supreme Leader,” Hux replied, though reluctance laced his words.

Your eyes locked with the General’s briefly. He was an open book to you, his faults and insecurities laid bare. Reluctance was just one of his many flaws. Almost in cowardice, his blue eyes darted away from yours. Kylo on the other hand, gave him one last glare before walking past him. Quietly, you followed Kylo, taking in the cold, metallic corridors illuminated by sparse lights. This sector was a far cry from what you were accustomed to.

“You didn’t tell them about your new advisor?” you asked Kylo. “You’re already adding fuel to the fire.”

“I am aware,” Kylo said curtly, his strides calm but purposeful. “I don’t trust anyone—not even my knights.”

He stopped in front of his quarters, his hand hovering over the door’s control panel as he entered a code. With a soft swoosh, the doors opened, and he motioned for you to step inside. You walked in, your eyes scanning the dark, spacious room with its minimalist design. You removed your coat and hung it on a nearby rack, your gaze drifting to the room down the hall—his bedroom.

No. You are here as an advisor, not his concubine.

The sound of his helmet being removed drew your attention. But an unspoken tension lingered in the air—a personal matter between you and him. You had been exiled from Luke and had never reached out to Kylo through the force. Despite his maturity, Kylo’s grudges were like a garden he meticulously tended. His reticence was palpable as he watched you, his question blaring in his mind: Why didn’t you come back to him?

“I’ll have the troopers deliver your luggage to your bedroom down the right hallway. You’ll be staying here,” Kylo said, standing in one smooth motion. “My private room is off-limits, but you’re free to go anywhere else in this space.”

You nodded silently, glancing around at the large, well-appointed quarters. It was more luxurious than the shared room you had in the sisterhood, and for that, you were somewhat grateful. His tone was stern, a clear signal that he wouldn’t indulge in reopening old wounds. That part of him hadn’t changed—his unparalleled grudges and spite.

Kylo moved toward the door.

“Before you go, I need to know one thing,” you said, halting him in his tracks. “How did it feel? To see the light vanish from Snoke’s eyes…”

Your question hung in the air, and you could feel the storm of emotions it unleashed within him.

You sensed his dread, rage, shock, guilt—and most of all, satisfaction.

His body remained rigid, his back still turned to you.

“It felt…liberating,” he finally said, his voice low and steady.

“Good. You deserved your vengeance.”

The silence between you and him settled into something resolute—a quiet, almost relieved stillness. Kylo turned to face you again, his gaze lingering for a moment before he gave you a small nod.

“You should rest. I can sense your exhaustion,” Kylo said, his voice softer now.

A sense of resolution washed over you. You were just as powerful as he was now. You could only imagine what it would have been like to see him standing in the throne room, triumphant over his fallen master. Now, here you were, offering him your guidance—to be his whisper of power.

Kylo nodded once more, picked up his helmet, and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your mind reeled with possibilities, strategies, and the weight of what was to come.

It was alleged night on the Finalizer, and you had prepared yourself for bed. Your belongings were still in the cargo hold, but that was the least of your concerns. What kept you awake was Kylo’s restlessness. Even from across the corridor, you could sense his turmoil—his mind roiling with unease as he tossed and turned, punctuated by frustrated grunts.

With a quiet exhale, you rose from your bed and slipped out of your room, making your way down the dim hallway toward his quarters. Trepidation gripped you as your hand hovered inches from the door. You hesitated, wondering whether you would be welcomed or turned away.

No, you reminded yourself. He is still your friend…your ally. And if things escalated, you were confident you could defend yourself. But you hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

As if in answer to your thoughts, the door opened silently. His bedroom was spacious and dimly lit, with a large bed at its center draped in black silken sheets. Your eyes adjusted to the low light, and you spotted Kylo. His back was to you, the pale expanse of his skin on full display, every muscle taut with tension.

“I could sense your unease,” you said softly.

“Of course you did,” he replied with a sigh, straightening himself in bed. “That’s why I opened the door.”

The weight of his uncertainty hung heavy in the room. His calm gaze didn’t match the chaotic storm of his thoughts. His eyes stayed fixed on you for what felt like an eternity, and you debated whether to step closer.

“It’s fine,” he said, rubbing his temples. The blanket slipped slightly, revealing the broad expanse of his scarred chest. “I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He gestured to the chair beside his bed, and you took a seat.

“You still sleep with a light on?” you teased, glancing at the small orb of light glowing faintly on the far side of the room.

“Not everyone can adapt to the dark as you can,” he retorted lightly, surprising you with the quip. “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve smashed my shins on the bed corners.”

The unexpected humor caught you off guard, a glimpse of something uncharacteristic yet nostalgic. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it reminded you of Ben. Even in the dim light, he could see your features clearly. His gaze lingered, studying you intently—your lips, your nose, your eyes. Every part of you seemed to fascinate him, and the emotions fluttering in his chest were ones he didn’t entirely understand.

“I need you…for something,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

His brown eyes locked with yours, and your heart skipped a beat. Your gaze flicked to the scars on his chest, the deep pink lines a testament to the battles he’d endured. You remained silent, wary of what he might ask but willing to listen. He sensed your uncertainty through the Force, mirroring his own inner turmoil. He took a moment to speak again.

“Could you…find a memory of mine to lull me to sleep?” he asked. “I know you have the ability. I just need one good memory…I’ve had enough nightmares.”

He turned his head slightly to look at you. He looked so vulnerable to you, and it hurt that you were ordered to expose his weakness. A pang of empathy washed over you. Despite everything, he was still your friend. But the look in his eyes held something deeper—something unspoken.

“I’ll offer you one of mine,” you said softly.

You reached out, placing a hand gently on his scarred cheek, then on the side of his temple. His mind was a storm of distress, thrashing like a tempest at sea. Kylo closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, you felt him savor the warmth of your touch.

You delved into his mind and offered him a memory—a peaceful one. In it, you were in the desert, surrounded by golden dunes under a warm, gentle breeze. Kylo wandered through the sandy landscape, his breathing calm and measured. It was a tranquil moment, serene and untouched by fear. This was a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the nightmares that plagued him.

When you withdrew your touch, you noticed the tension in his face had melted away. His body relaxed, sinking into the black silk sheets. His muscles eased, and he looked almost at peace. You brushed your fingers lightly over the scar on his face one last time before stepping away.

Tomorrow, you would be sworn back into the First Order. Tomorrow, you would step fully back into Kylo’s life.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed it. Tags still open if you want to be tagged in fic lmk.

Banners by @targaryen-dynasty , photos are not mine found on pinterest

Tag: @paristheonewhoreads, @my-simp-space, @ssnapsaurus, @lm-lg-4ever, @noonee333

#kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo fanfic #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo ren au #dune crossover #kylo ren x bene gesserit reader #star wars #kylo ren x y/n #star wars crossover #star wars au #ben solo #ben solo x reader

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jusst-you-race · 10 months ago

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Lewis and Seb, 24

thank you for the prompt! this is the first time i've written sewis so i hope it's alright! this is sort of an undefined spy/mission impossible type au (which is making me want to do more in this setting). here are the prompts!

a kiss in danger

Lewis breathes hard as they hurry down the back stairs, mindful of the footsteps they can hear thundering a few flights above them. Seb is skipping every other step, almost leaping downwards as they run, and Lewis is only half worried he’s going to break an ankle. If it was Lewis doing it, absolutely, but Seb always seems to have this sort of effortless grace about him, somewhat at odds with his scruffy demeanour and cheeky personality.

They reach the bottom of the stairwell and with only a quick glance behind to make sure Lewis is behind him, Seb throws the fire exit open and darts into the alleyway beyond it. Lewis pauses, trying to ascertain how far behind their tail is and hears a shout from above, far closer than he thought it would be. Swearing under his breath, he follows Seb outside.

“They’re closing. What’s the plan, man?” he pants. He’s not used to this, really. Normally Lewis’ M.O. is in and out without anyone the wiser, but Seb never seems able to resist an opportunity to cause a scene. Seb just grins in response.

“This way!” is all Lewis gets before he dashes off down the alleyway, ducking into an alcove Lewis had completely looked over. Lewis sighs, then follows.

They take a winding, twisting path through the backroads of the area they’re in, avoiding the sounds of shouting and revving engines, Seb always one step ahead of Lewis. The longer they run the more the smile on Seb’s face grows, and at this point Lewis can hardly blame him. It’s exhilarating.

Eventually, inevitably, they hit a dead end. It was bound to happen, and Seb simply shrugs before gesturing for Lewis to turn around. He does so, and pokes his head around the entrance of the alley, scanning the road they’d turned off.

“Shit. End of the street, coming this way, I don’t think they’ve seen us yet, but they’re definitely looking.” Lewis steps back into the alley and slumps against a wall, head falling back against the cold stone. He’s not sure how they’re getting out of this one. Maybe his luck has finally run out.

He looks down when he feels more than sees Seb stepping closer to him.

“What are you doing?”

Seb gives him a sly smile.

“Play along.”

The voices down the street grow closer, and Lewis realises he really doesn’t have a choice in the matter, and resigns himself to whatever harebrained scheme Seb has come up with. Seb steps closer.

“Seb?”

Lewis can hear footsteps now, and instinctively his breath quickens. Seb’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into Lewis’ space. Before Lewis can prepare himself at all, they’re kissing.

Seb’s lips are soft and warm against his own, and the scratch of stubble against his cheek raises goosebumps along his arm. Out of habit, Lewis has brought his arms up to wrap around Seb, and he slides one of his hands up into Seb’s hair, fingers curling into his blond locks. The effect it has is magical, as Seb whines in the back of his throat and licks along the seam of Lewis’ lips. Lewis is helpless to deny him and lets his mouth fall open, much to Seb’s apparent delight.

There’s an awkward noise from the end of the alley as someone notices them and quickly averts their eyes, but Lewis is far too caught up in the kiss to notice. Things are quickly spiralling out of control and Lewis feels himself getting half hard in his pants as Seb grinds up against him reflexively. He bites at Seb’s lips in an attempt to get him to behave and Seb gasps, pulling away from the kiss.

For a moment they just stare at each other, breathing hard. Seb’s lips are pink and swollen, and Lewis is sure his eyes look half glazed.

“Are they gone?”

Lewis blinks, taking a moment to process the question.

“What?”

Seb huffs, rolling his eyes. He pulls himself away from Lewis, and the hand Lewis had in his hair falls limply down by his side. Seb pokes his head out the alley.”

They have gone. Excellent. Come on!” And with that, Seb starts striding away.

Lewis feels lost, and more than a little overwhelmed.

“Hurry up, Lewis!”

Brushing himself off, Lewis tries to pull himself together. He adjusts himself in his pants and clears his throat. After a few deep breaths, he follows after Seb, helplessly caught up in his whirlwind, and not particularly interested in doing anything about it.

#mostly inspired by their personalities as babies #seeing as I’m currently watching the 09 season #sewis #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #sewis fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #bug writes #ask #danger au

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zonecode · 1 year ago

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It's a vain rage that finds the tenrec. Sure, she almost had a building dropped on top of her, but you had to do a little bit more than almost injure her to get past that base level of anger that resided permanently in Surge's core. Now, let's not get it twisted, she was mad. But she was always mad. Frankly, it was mostly confusion fueling this fire, a seemingly unscheduled demolition causing her to reroute her own brand of chaos. That's what was irritating.

Right now, she was just looking for someone to point fingers at, and this little green gremlin, this don't-feed-it-after-midnight-looking nightmare of a woman was the only one within a ten-mile radius that was capable of pulling aggro, so she would have to do. Was she even the person who caused the building to collapse? Who knew! Surge didn't care. She needed someone to pummel after her light jog straight up a building, and Miss Wild and Unhinged was the person fixing for a—

"...What?!" Do her damn job? "DO YOUR DAMN JOB!? Does it look like I'm on the clock t'you?! I couldn't care less about whatever dead-end job you're workin', sister! I'm here t'cause pandemonium and you're gettin' in my way! I can't tear this place asunder if I've got buildings fallin' from the sky without MY permission! So take that hard head a'yours and let me ram my FIST into it a couple thousand times. Maybe THEN you'll learn t'stay out of my way when I—"

—If there was ever a way to shut her running mouth up, saying HIS name was a good way to do it. It's like a light switch flips in the face, turning the bedroom light from on to off. Turning the anger from unfocused to crystal clear. Mmm... Now she had something to be properly mad about. It's as potent as an activation code, speak Sonic and suffer.

For a moment, lightning-blue eyes stare past whatever's in front of her. For a moment, all she can do is laugh. A sly grin carved up Surge's face, sharpened shark teeth flashing brightly as bouts and gouts of laughter burbled from her body. It's a snicker, then a snort. Shoes take some steps closer, hands wring themselves out. A breath is inhaled through teeth clenched tight.

Fists tighten... they crash into each other with the force of rolling thunder. Electrifying, surging power jumping and energizing. Flashing, rising. Shuddering, rippling. It’ll rend the world asunder. GROWING, FLOWING. Inflict every inch of rage, hatred, and malice onto every soul that her warpath comes in contact with.

Thunderclouds roil ahead with the might of heaven and hell and all in between...

You pressed the Sonic button. Ya shouldnt'a did that.

The speed of light dives straight for Annie's throat. A pulse-pounding, heart-stopping flash of raw power pounces without any organic comparison. She is pure energy as she tackles the other in front of her, desperate to take the passenger in her clutches for a ride. Through buildings, through houses or homes. Through structures tall and small. Whether they be abandoned? Who cared.

It would all fall as they bore witness and were bored straight through.

Blazing energy, it only begins to burn off as a throat-shredding scream runs out of air to keep itself going. And by that time, the shrieking lightning bolt flashing for miles on end would peter out in... some sort of mountainous region that stunk of sweetened cinnamon. The rocky reds to sturdy yellow stones... Surge stops on a dime as a mind returns to her, allowing the momentum born to instead carry into her quarry as gloves release their grip. Allow the little goblin to scatter across the rocks. Surge would catch up no matter how far they flew.

...Huh. They were somewhere totally different. Fascinating. It made no difference.

This girl's grave would be tarnished no matter where it landed.

"Get up. I ain't even started with you yet."

You know, she would've never thought she would've actually liked a job. Brulo, her apparent 'boss', would frantically stammer that she didn't work for him, that she forced herself into the position and he had no power to get her to leave, but... Okay, well. She still got something out of it, so by all means she was technically working a job.

Much to the many, many poor goons of the prince of darkness's ire. Seriously why was she HERE, what bozo would team up with that drunkard?

If Anton was a truck, Annie was a freight train. On a specific path. To cause as much chaos and destruction as possible, no stone left together, a cacophony of random explosions and stock scream sfx's ringing out through the area amongst her destruction-- For a moment, she casually slowed down for a moment to kick down a fire hydrant with horrifying ease. You know, normal girl things.

Theeeeen she saw it. Everything before was of course enough to get that horrid smile on her face, but it only widened. What a lovely building. The person who went through the effort of designing it and paying people to build it sure as hell must appreciate that years later, this is the woman who's about to make it utterly worthless. And it's all hers. No Anton trying to push her aside and do it himself.

For once, she stops and thinks. How does she want to go about it. Bare hands, a mace, or just fumble to find some explosives or poor sod to throw right through the place? She's so busy using that quarter of a braincell she has that she doesn't exactly hear the distant, ongoing chaos. Oh if it's Anton, she sure as hell ain't letting him have this.

She walks into the abandoned building, looks around-- Squints, framing the interior as if she were going to redecorate it for a moment, before she suddenly seems to determine how she wants the whole place to fall. Annie looks out a broken window and puts her thumb up to gauge that yeaaaaah. That will cause the perfect domino effect of destruction.

A hefty mace is taken out of nowhere as she pats the spiky head of it. Good ol reliable. So much better than Anton's STUPID hammer that had ONE spike on it instead of MULTIPLE. She firmly holds the hilt of the mace as, despite it's size, Annie easily lifts it up over the side of her shoulder, squinting at the side of the building, before using the weight of the weapon to spin around into the nearest wall, tearing into the bottom foundation of the building like a tasmanian devil ripping through prey as she began to turn, taking down a majority of the building, already causing it to falter.

But one side remained relatively in-tact, as Annie stopped her momentum, stumbling over to the remaining wall, and casually leaning against it, that of all things apparently being the final nail in the coffin for the place as it gradually began to fell, creating an ongoing domino effect that she watched with a horrid grin on her face, casually putting her mace back into her... Poc...ke..? Okay. As she watches it all go down, cackling loudl--

Her attention harshly snaps to the other the moment she makes her presence known. Awww, I was trying to savor the moment. Jackass. Surge gets nothing but an unblinking crazed stare as Annie tries to connect the dots. Why does the other look so vaguely familiar? Has she truly gone nuts after trying to 100% Sonic 06, or...

...Wait, wait, her twisted smile suddenly turns into a scowl.

"Are you trying to do my damn job? I didn't know Brulo started hiring rats." Though, it's obvious to her constant course of 'thoughts' a second later that Surge didn't work for Brulo. She didn't have a stupidly small hard hat that wouldn't save her from a pebble. But then her brain rubs two and two together; in one way or another, "The Sonic the Hedgehog convention isn't until another six months, dumbass."

#(SURGE || IC.)#emptyzone #((BARK. BARKBARKBARK GRRRRBARKBARK))#((FIGHT MAKE BRAIN //HAPPY//))#((SCENE TRANSITION GOOOOOOD))

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phoeebsbuffay · 3 years ago

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Imagine: you are a younger sister to Duchess Satine. You are just as bright as she is, possessing a quick wit and fierce mind. However, you are often overshadowed by Satine’s accomplishments. The two of you were once very close, and in these good days you were her biggest support. However, something happened and you joined the rebels who sought to undermine the Senate. Satine is desperated to get you back, but because she’s the rulling Duchess of Mandalore, she can’t go after you. That is when she asks Obi-Wan for help, aware of how not so long ago the two of you were so close. Yet, the question remains unspoken in the minds of the Mandalorian: whatever happened to the bright young sister to the peaceful duchess Satine?

Warnings 1: the younger sister of Satine is not the one we see in “The Clone Wars”. In fact, let’s pretend she never existed even though this original character is loosely based on her. Also, it’s with this oc Obi-Wan has been infatuated and not Satine.

Warnings 2: this story might find it’s inspiration in Ed Sheeran’s “Bad Habits”.

Warnings 3: this is how I roll, people: smut, violence and drama are the elements that shape my writing. And of course there’ll be fluffiness because I honestly hate how “SW” always makes Obi-Wan unhappy in many ways. Therefore, minors, do not read nor interact.

You have been warned…

***

Intro.

Dark clouds rumble in the skies of Mandalore. In a clear presage of an upcoming thunder storm, every citizen of the great capital looks for solace under their roof. To most superstitious people, this is a sign of bad times ahead.

Satine, in her palace, is perhaps one of those who share this belief. Looking through the window glass, she watches as the light dissipates, eclipsed by darker clouds that announce a thunderstorm. Rain does not take too long to fall, and her eyes stare at the spectacle of the violent drops of cold water throughout the capital.

“What is it your ladyship thinking about?” Her adviser steps closer to her, carefully keeping a safe distance. There is genuine concern in his question, it is only fair she answers him back, though her eyes remain fixed on the storm outside.

“She disappeared, master. No one finds her, not even our best detective.” Her heart breaks, but she has to be strong despite the vulnerability she feels exposed to. “I don’t know what else to do. There is good in her, I know that.”

“Madam, please forgive my bluntness. But your sister deliberately chose the dark path. You have to be in terms with it, that you did all you could and…”

Satine turned at him, eyes filled not with anger but a deep shade of despair.

“She had not! She was forced into it, I know in my heart! And whilst you may be prepared to let her go, my lord, I am not! She’s my only family.” The fangs of guilt are pressed upon her heart. “I know someone who might find her. I know who.”

It takes no more than two days before General Kenobi lands in Mandalore. He may be self composed, wearing a mask of duty, but his Padawan is the only one who could tell he’s been under distress after the news of your rebellion came to his knowledge. Against Obi-Wan’s strong refusal in having him by his side, though, Anakin is seen by his master’s side wishing to be helpful, but there to console his heart.

Satine welcomes the two Jedi as regal as she is. Formalities are often the necessary requirement to deal with ambassadors or other politics who landed in Mandalore. But all smiles fade when the three of them are in private quarters, away from the court.

“I wish I had not involved you in this, Obi-Wan”, Satine tells him distressed. “But no one, not even my best men, could find her. She took a path I could not follow! How could I have abandoned her to this? How could this crown that is on my head costed my family?”

Satine is about to sob, but she surprises the men present in the room by holding back her tears. Anakin notices that the pain in her eyes mirror the ones he saw in Obi-Wan when he was told about what you’d done. Perhaps, he thinks to himself, it was even more miserable. Whatever had happened between the two of you, it’s costing Obi-Wan’s peace of mind. Anakin never thought he’d see his master so broken inside. So hurt. So desolated.

Yet he’s playing the strong figure. Because Satine needs it. Because he too cannot fall apart.

“I will rescue Y/N, Satine. You did well in contact me. It’s for the best interest of the Galaxy that she does not fall to the Sith’s hands.”

Only Anakin sees the shivers that goes up to his master’s spine and shake his shoulders. Poor man, he thinks. He must’ve loved her so to be so miserable inside.

It’s when he prepares to leave but Obi-Wan prevents him to follow.

“Anakin, I need you stay. Make Satine company and wait for my orders.”

His voice is firm and Anakin knows there’s no chance to argue with him. Yet the Jedi Knight decides to try.

“But you cannot go alone, Master. Maker knows what you will find…”

Obi-Wan softens before his Padawan’s concern. There is so much he could tell Anakin about all of this, how you mean so much to him. But there’s no time. He places a hand over Anakin’s shoulder and gives a gentle press. A soft, but sad smile is on his lips when he says:

“No. I appreciate your good will, Anakin, but I need to resolve this on my own.”

Defeated, he says:

“Well. May the Force be with you, Master”.

Anakin does not tell Obi-Wan, but he has a bad feeling about this.

***

Your POV.

Every bad habit you dwell on it so you make yourself believe that you are free of the chains of Mandalore’s politics and the constant suffering you were once submitted to, fail its purpose when it leads you to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The memories you share together when you were both adolescents are too much for you to bear. In the presente, you are nowhere to be found, waiting for the next assignment. You have successfully created your own reputation in the Galaxy, forging to yourself a new identity as boutyhunter.

Yet, it’s by the title “Dark Jedi” you are associated to. Despite the part you took in rebelling against Mandalore—in an act that was not aimed against your sister’s rule, but rather to the politicians who broke the goodness in you by trying to punish your liberty, attempting to cage your free spirits until you realized you were nothing but their pawn to try to replace Satine on the throne. You tried to tell her about this plot, but when she refused to hear, you had enough. No one listened to you. But the terrorists who were relocated to the Moon of Mandalore did.

But what does it matter to dwell in the past? Yet the shadow of what was done keeps going back to your mind.

My conscience reprehends me for the choices that brought me into this nothingness.

You are reminded of Obi-Wan. The moments spent together when he trained you in the arts of the Jedis because you have the Force. You close your eyes at the memory. Why must your bad habits lead to him?

Darkness invites you to the forgetfulness. It seems to claim you, you feel it’s tentacles surround your brain and your heart as if you were a fragile prey. Perhaps you had always been one. Where’s your strength now? Where’s your fierceness? You could hear your dark side mocking you.

You close your eyes. You let your dark side come, though uninvited, unwelcome, because you are suffering. Even more so when you remember that particular day.

You were at the gardens dressed in yellow-ish gown with your hair loose, much to the dismay of your sister, who never ceased to remind you about the etiquette of court. But you’d always snap back at her by reminding her that whilst you were the Duchess’s sister, you remained unmarried and until otherwise you were permitted to have your hair down.

There was also another reason for why you preferred to let your auburn hair fall loose to your back: you knew Obi-Wan liked the view. He’d never say it, but you captured him looking at you more than once. There were other moments too, where his fingers lingered in your curls as he taught you, ever so close to you, about meditating. Even to this day you sensed his smell. One of the kind you’ve taken a particular like.

Though you were desired by the men at your sister’s court, Obi-Wan was the reason why you put some effort to embellish yourself. Maids and other men at your sister’s council would accuse you of vanity, but what did they know about the matters of heart?

You wanted to impress him. That day, you’d show him that. Obi-Wan smiled wide when he saw you. You felt yourself blushing when his eyes stared at you, like you were the damsel who was beautifully dressed to meet her knight.

“My lady Y/N”, he’d take your hand and there press a gentle kiss, his lips brushing so lightly against your skin as his eyes held yours in a long gaze. Your heartbeat reached your ears and most certainly his as well. He knew. And you knew he knew. “You look lovely today, although I’m afraid I can’t see how you’d be able to train with a lightsaber in your dress.”

You giggled, feeling so pure as you delighted in the innocent flirtatious upon which you both engaged yourselves. As Obi-Wan led you outdoors, discreet like a lover, you’d say:

“You underestimate my power, Obi-Wan Kenobi”, you smirked at him. “You’ll see that I am capable to let the Force flow even dressed accordingly to the manners of court.”

You could see your delicate manners entertained him because where you were soft and every inch a damsel, you’d never ceased to surprised him whenever you had a lightsaber in your hand.

Back then, Obi-Wan was not a Master yet. Those days were easier for you both. His Master was away and the Jedi was a Padawan who was much more sentimental, prompted to a certain recklessness which in due time would disappear, replaced by his sense of duty. So he was as involved with you as you were with him.

Away from the public sight, the two of you were engaging in the practice of lightsaber. You proved him how easily you mastered the Force there was in you.

“How on Maker’s name you were never sent to be part of the Order?” Obi-Wan inquired. He was mostly impressed by how the long gown you wore did not stop you for being fast in pairing his moves. “You should be there, not here.”

You laughed. “I wish! But my sister has plans for me, as our parents had, whatever these might be.”

“You are stronger than many Jedis I know”, he said, before discovering flattery was your flaw because you got distracted and he pulled you against him. You were defeated. “However, much to train you have, my dear Y/N.”

You remember that you pushed him to the grass. The two of you rolled on top of each other for a while, the surroundings of you filled with the sounds of laughters. It was when he pulled you right underneath himm. And he saw all the sentiment that came from you. He did not think. He kissed you. And you gasped, never before so happy.

You open your eyes. The memory brings a tear out of your eyes. But you have to quickly conceal your feelings again because someone was looking for the Dark Jedi.

You put a dark cape over your shoulders and hide yourself under a long hood in order to dissimulate your presence. It is when you meet Assaj Ventress.

“I don’t care who you are or once were”, the woman in strange clothes is direct in her treat with you. “I require your services. I hear you are a powerful Jedi who nonetheless often flirts with the dark side. Perhaps you are the one I need for what needs to be done.”

You fold your arms, neither denying nor affirming what you hear.

“What is the service you request of me? You need to pay me first otherwise there’s no deal.”

The Ventress, once associated to Dooku and the Dark Forces, gives you a considerable amount of gold.

“You have to destroy Count Dooku.” She gives away just like that. “Can you do that?”

You furrow your eyebrows. The amount of gold is more than you ever received in your life, but was it worth meddling in the conflict that was part of the Jedis? You don’t acknowledge yourself as Jedi, if yet you ever were one.

The Ventress is impatient, but you need to consider the advantages of the proposal. Usually you stayed away from these conflicts. But you require more information. She then tells you about General Grievous.

“Him I can deal”, you tell her. “But not Dooku. These affairs are not mine to conduct. Not anymore. I have no desire to be associated with the Republic, the Separatists or…” you whisper dangerously. “…the Jedis and their Siths. For a long time I’ve removed myself off their own conflicts.”

There is a subtle menace in your words and the Ventress realizes that this might be as far as she might get from you. You have some unfinished business with Grievous, this you make clear. You can also tell that the Ventress is planning to manipulate this fact to her favor, and it is when you surprise your client by almost suffocating her.

“It is what I say or nothing. I will not tolerate to serve your dirty purposes. Do you understand me?”

She gasps, struggling against your force. It is not until she eventually aquiesces that you let go of her. You don’t return the gold. You turn your back to her and go silently to where your ship is. It’s time for another job. It’s time to get your revenge done.

***

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s POV.

He somehow senses you are not that far as his ride takes him to the planet Y/C, aware that in this region is where he feels your presence. He does not wonder how you fell, neither your reasons for such.

In fact, as he remembers the last time he saw you when he was forced to say goodbye to you, he questions himself. If was not for the sadness in your eyes, by how people around you wanted to turn you into somebody else, perhaps he’d never know.

Obi-Wan feels his heart break. He could have taken you with him to the Order, he could have insisted the Council to make you Jedi. He could have prevented your fall.

As he disguises himself, Obi-Wan walks discreetly to that region, certain you are there. The bond between you remain strong after all those years and the Force is taking him to you. Is he prepared to meet you after the day he left you to your luck?

Guilt continues to pursue the dominance of his conscience as Obi-Wan remembers the day he told you his feelings to you.

You had been left at the palace whilst court followed Satine to her State courtship, and Obi-Wan stayed to be with you. The two of you were alone and however hard he tried to mask his attraction for you, he could not whenever you smiled at him. Seeing you so free of the royal protocols was a sight to behold. You seemed genuinely happy as you danced with your maids, your eyes looking for his.

He wanted more of you. The vows he was about to profess as Jedi meant little when you came to his way. You supped together that evening and talked about many things, tastes in common that had united you in a deep affection. Earlier that day, you teased him again by practicing with the lightsaber wearing the gown he favored. How would you know that? He was puzzled by how easily you read him.

There was, however, some tension as he led you to your quarters. Obi-Wan wanted to profess his feelings to you, but he did not have neither the opportunity to tell you nor the courage to be so open about it. But there you were, and Obi-Wan saw how you were waiting for his move. This move that never seemed to concretize. The look in his eyes that you saw many times before.

It was unlike him to be so carefree, so he surprised you by pressing his lips against yours. Luckily for the both of you, the corridors were empty.

“Obi-Wan…” you pleasantly sighed. “What took you so long?”

“I do not know, my dear Y/N.” He told you, sounding exasperated to his ears.

He did not know he was hungry for you, desperately in need of your affections. You kissed him, but this time he was brought to the inside of your bedchambers.

The two of you giggled as you did not know what to do. The kiss at first was sloppy, messy, but finally it brought the fire that danced in each of your hearts. Obi-Wan could not escape himself, his needs for you ached too much before he subdued them to reason. You took the opportunity. Moved by some strange instinct, you kissed his lips, his neck, giving gentle bites into his skin as your hands slide to his pants.

Obi-Wan heavily sighed, trying to do the same to you, his hands removing your gown, somewhat disastrous as he undid your corset. The two of you giggled at it.

“How can we be less disastrous, uh?” The Jedi chuckled as he apologized for the lack of experience. Yet the look in your eyes made him mewl on the inside. What a divine creature you were to behold.

“Well that makes us both”, you chuckled in return.

He carried you then to your bed. There was no time to rush, so both of you took the opportunity to get to know each other carnally. You were the one to get the initiative. Obi-Wan remembered how he was paralyzed once you kissed his neck and moved your hand to stroke his hard cock. He could not help to sigh out loud. There were moments he thought of you that way but he was always careful to suppress his desires.

But there you were, caressing his manhood, erect in your delicate hands, pulsing against your palms. The Jedi was aroused when he saw the surprise in your eyes giving place to something more…what word could best summarize what were you feeling? Lust? But this was beyond lust. It might had been a discovery for you both. Yet you were enjoying so much.

“How does it feel?”, you inquired, looking for his approval. Obi-Wan let out a groan in response, but he could not speak, which got you puzzled and confused.

He took your hands to his erect member again, asking silently for you to repeat the moves you were doing before. The pleasure was so evident in his face that you finally understood that he was enjoying.

It was when you were about to get your knees when he prevented you from doing. To appease the confused look in your eyes, he kissed your lips rather hungrily and laid you down. Obi-Wan crawled over you, leaving traces of kiss all around you. His eyes admired your curves and he wanted to please you as you pleased him. He took each breast into his lips, devouring you as he almost instinctively inserted a finger in your womanhood. All the while he did that he was attentive at your reactions. Obi-Wan enjoyed how much you gave yourself to him, how your body was restless underneath his touch. He was set alight just by tasting you and seeing you reciprocated his desires.

You eventually pulled him to you, and it was where the mess finally began. Your kiss was intoxicated and there were no vows that remained intact before love. Yes, the Jedi loved you. He was eager, anxious to show you how much he adored you, how much he was devoted to you.

“I love you”, you were the first to say. It was right when he adjusted his hips and prepares to thrust into you. That was a particular awkward moment for Obi-Wan. He felt so clumsy doing so, but your patience would reward him for that. And when he did, these words escaped you and forced him to contemplate you. As a woman. As the one who captured his heart and break his vows. “I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”

These are the words that echo in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind as he makes his way through the dark. He feels desolated yet again, eyes going teary. You were so devoted to him, and he paid that devotion to abandonment.

Duty is the death of love, after all.

He is briefly distracted from the memories of better days when he spots a ship. A silver ship. And somebody wearing a dark silver cape. There is little need to hear the steps closer. He knows it’s you.

To his disappointment, if yet this is how he should name his desperation for letting you slip through his fingertips, you sense his presence too, but this makes you move faster. Before the Jedi reaches for you, you are gone.

Obi-Wan feels his knees fail him and he drops on the sand. Atonement is the word that best define him now. But he refuses to let you go. Again.

***

Your POV.

The moment you knew he was there was when your dark side took the best of you. You ran from him when your heart pounded against your chest. But you carefully remember yourself he’s the enemy now. The two of you are lovers no more.

The disturbance in the force tempts you again. You are, in fact, conflicted once more. You cannot deny that every part of your body aches for him, even now. As you pilot your ship to the inevitable encounter with the General Grievous, your mind tracks back the moments spent next to Obi-Wan as much as you wish you could suppress of your being. Seeing him desolated upon your depart, however, resulted in a deeply troubled conscience that only fond remembrances could appease.

The next time you met him after he deflowered you—or better yet you deflowered each other, willingly and in a mutual commitment to the desires that ruled over your hearts—you are moved by a fire that only he could control. Excusing yourself to your Jedi duties, you in fact trapped him right where no one bothered to make sure that training was the only thing the two of you were doing.

“I need you”, you begged him as he kissed you hungrily. “Please, Ben.”

You didn’t even have to ask. He pressed you against the tree, kissing your lips fervently; his hands lifting your legs and, much to your delight, leaving the path to the entrance of his fingers into you.

“Silently, my lady” he teased you, though Obi-Wan was often aroused by how the two of you locked gazes in such intimate moment.

You loved it when he did it slow, evoking inner desperation out of you, as if he owned your pleasurable moments that you two shared together, which was true. He saw how you subdued to him so easily. And you enjoyed him watching as he ruined you. Obi-Wan did not take so long to replace his fingers with something else. That day you didn’t know how bold he was about to become to you.

The Jedi hid underneath your gown as he began pleasuring you with his mouth.

Oh Maker! You silently gasped, actually using the Force not to yell out loud. Your legs trembled, a wave shook your legs and before you knew it, you’d rode the man’s face.

You had not yet recovered when he came to surface and pressed his erected manhood into you.

“My, my. What have I done to you?”, you whispered mischievously as he kissed your neck again, going down to your breasts.

Whatever happened to slow paces that day definitely did not request it. But even after that, the ever romantic Obi-Wan took you to his arms and the two of you watched the sunset together.

“I love you”, he whispered against your ears. “Never forget that.”

And you still don’t. To your horror, he’s occupying your mind again. But there’s little time as you had business to do.

Grievous was waiting for you, of course. You don’t exactly land in surprise there. In fact, it is almost as if you are doing that on purpose. To be seen. To be caught.

You don’t have difficulties when it came to deal with these droids. Although mentally exhausted because of the conflict that never ceases to battle your conscience and heart, you played the role perfectly well.

Dark Jedi.

You scoff upon the title your clients gave you. Because you have a conscience, because you behave honorably at times, but because you flirted with the dark side and remained a rebel at heart.

You take your white lightsaber to battle the enemy was responsible for turning the Mandalorians against you.

“You thought I would be the puppet for your purposes, didn’t you Grievous?”, your despise is like a poison.

The robotic Sith laughs at you.

“You were an insignificant loss to the plans of my master, but that means nothing now.”

He takes his sabers. The dance of death begins.

“Dark Jedi, eh? Is that how you attend by now?”

You don’t give in to his conversation, rather concentrated in resisting his blows. For a robot, Grievous proves to be a difficult opponent.

Fed by revenge, you are willing to destroy. Darkness disturbs the Force again when you make it useful for your own purposes.

“You’d have been a great Sith if you were doted of brains”, Grievous said.

Some part of you wanted to give up. Was there any reason to live? What’s the worth of you vengeance? Satine chose her side, she’d not hear you when you presented your claims. Somehow, you turned out abandoned by all those you love.

Pain.

Turns to hatred.

It leads to the inevitable…

…suffering.

“You will not destroy me!”

“You underestimate my power!” A phrase you famously quoted to Obi-Wan years ago is now spitted venomously.

You clash against him, you bend him to you. There’s no hope for you, nothing.

Give up, you tell yourself. What’s the point of resisting?

Then it occurs you that this might be a trap. You are very close to destroy Grievous. This close. You already made him lose a saber, then an arm.

What if this is what the Sith Lords wanted all along? What if this is what they want me to become so they could punish my sister? So they could take…him?

However, when reason comes to you, it’s a little late. Your revenge is complete. General Grievous is destroyed.

***

Obi-Wan POV.

It takes a long time before he knows where you are. In that volcano planet, and the Maker wonders why of all the places, Obi-Wan finds you. He does not take so long to pick up the pieces. His heart aches when he finds out the truth.

You were the victim of a masterplan carefully intricated to the war that was bleeding the Galaxy. He knows it now. A little too late, he wonders?

He watches you hold your lightsaber, unsure whether he is relieved for seeing it’s not red the color of it. You are on his back to him, your eyes staring down at the destroyed general.

“I’m afraid you came too late, Obi-Wan.”

Even now the connection is strong. However bent his heart is to the inevitable pain that such remark weights in him, Obi-Wan is not a Jedi to give up easily. Especially when it comes to you.

“It’s never too late to go back right to where you belong, Y/N.” He begins calmly, speaking quietly.

Obi-Wan waits until you slowly turn to meet him. He sees the conflict in your eyes and holds onto the hope.

“I was set up”, you told him.

“I know that now.” His voice is choked. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t there, I…”

“No, you were not.” You cut him off. The hand that holds your lightsaber is shaking. “You chose your path. My heart left with you, but I could never follow you. I accepted that. But where were you when the conspiracy befell me? Of all people, you could have helped me.”

Obi-Wan knows he deserves the accusations, each one that comes from you is like a dagger right into his chest. But he understands that the dark side is twisting your vision, using your pain to make him look like he’s your enemy.

“Y/N, I wasn’t informed of any of this. I was kept away…” He hopes to appeal to your reason. He is not lying. Could you not see that?

You raise your lightsaber. Obi-Wan is baffled by the decision you are making. No. He’s not going to lose you.

“Y/N, I am not fighting you. We are not enemies!” He exclaims, his eyes going teary. What have they done to you? “Listen to me! You are better than this!”

You pop up your lightsaber, your heart pounds as if it’s ripping your chest. You are about to follow the machinations orchestrated by the Chancellor. You are, after all, the vital piece to dominate Mandalore. If you opt to fight Obi-Wan and, let’s just say, defeat him, what’s there to leave for you if not the path to become a Sith?

Obi-Wan sees the logic that your mind is too clouded by the thunderstorms produced by a constant clash between the good and the evil that are inside you.

“I…” you are about to surrender.

But he cannot allow this to happen. I will not lose you again.

“I love you, Y/N! I love you!”

You hesitate. You put your saber down. Obi-Wan is not yet relieved, nor satisfied with the subtle change in your demeanor. He will bring you back to life.

He runs to you. After taking the lightsaber off your hands, he removes the cape off your shoulders. He cups your face with his hands.

“Look at me, look at me!” Obi-Wan searches for your eyes. “I am not letting you fall. I failed you once, I will not fail you again. Look at the good there is in you. Please, Y/N. Do not quake into fear.”

Little by little, Obi-Wan fights his own desolation as he merges into your soul. He rests his forehead against yours, using the Force to bring you back.

And as you are reasonable once again, as your eyes leave the emptiness that were coloring your irises, you burst into tears. He holds you tight, feeling that the clouds of darkness finally left your heart. For good.

***

Your POV.

You are still shaking, even if the environment is hot as hell. You feel accountable to your actions. There’s hurt and pain in you, but no more anger. No more misery.

“I’m sorry”, you manage to speak as you look into his eyes. Obi-Wan is there, holding you close. Oh the desolation that fell upon the two of you! “I’m so sorry!”

He swallows the tears as he presses a kiss onto your forehead.

“It’s all right now, dear one. You were much more a victim to the machinations of the Sith than truthfully accountable for what you did”, and Obi-Wan means every word. He prays you believe in them, though.

But how could you when remorse begins to wash over your being?

“I cannot blame the Sith if I allow them, to a certain point, to manipulate me.” You sob, covering your face with your hands. “I brought shame to Satine, to Mandalore. Oh Maker, how weak minded was I!”

Obi-Wan is the solace you need and he embraces you as to show you this.

“If you were so, you’d have given yourself to the dark forces”, he tells you. “In fact, you are brave, Y/N! You met the shadows that lived in you, but you overcame them. The storm is over. You are free, my darling.”

There is doubt in your eyes. For the best, right now, he takes you out of that volcano planet that creeps him out. As you enter his ship, he leaves it automatic pilot before he goes to you, placing a blanket around your shoulders.

“I should have never left you”, he tells you in a whisper. Obi-Wan does not intend to leave you ever again, regardless of the consequences of his decision. It is as traumatic to you as to him to see you in such a scenario of nearly self destruction.

As you hold him close to you, you surprise yourself by comforting him. You make him look at you as the words roll out of your tongue:

“I never blamed you for leaving like that. Yes, my heart was broken when you did because I loved you with all my being. But in truth I knew you’d have to go eventually. I was well lectured in the aspects of duty. I wouldn’t do different if I were in your shoes, Obi-Wan.” You pause as if to contemplate what you are saying. “Duty must always come first and foremost before our desires. We must place sentiments aside, however, when I was found out that plot about me, clearly orchestrated by the Sith, and no one believed in me… that hurt me more. I tried to appeal for you, but I felt alone.”

You sigh, sad. That is what you are now, sad. Obi-Wan studies you as you fall silent. There is sadness in your heart, giving path to old insecurities. The more he reads into you, the more he… loves you.

“I will not leave you”, he tells you, firm this time. You look at him, surprised. “Never. It’s a vow I make you and will not break it.”

Obi-Wan leans to kiss you and, in spite of your reluctance, you soon melt it. You return the kiss affectionately. It is as if you are making peace, restauring what you once believed to have been lost.

And just like that, the lucid sentiment flows through the kiss, warming both of you at the same time. It turns into the old urge, one you suppressed long time ago and so did he.

He puts you in his lap, and you spread your legs as you do. When your eyes meet, there is no words. There is mutual understanding.

He pulls your hair gently and you throw your head back as his lips pursue your neck. Clothes never felt so heavy in your body as they do now. But Obi-Wan does not take long to remove your robes, surprising you by his skills. You save this observation for later.

You run your fingers through his ginger hair, pulling it intently as you feel his mouth devour your nipples, massaging the one whilst biting the other.

“Oh, Maker!” You squirm under his touch, feeling his hardness beneath you. How have you missed this!

But this time you decide to take control. You show it by pinning him against the wall, slipping to the between of his legs.

“What are you doing…?” Obi-Wan is about to ask when his eyes go wide at you pulling his manhood out.

Oh. He furrows his eyebrows. You can tell he’s been wanting this. But you never had the opportunity to give him the pleasure he gave you years ago.

So you delicately do the same as he did. And any protests that he prepared because, frankly, you are a damsel to his eyes and will always be so, they die in his tongue. He inclines his back against the wall, barely able to breathe as he watches you dominating him in every aspect with your tongue.

Obi-Wan cannot look away. As he plays with your hair, and you take your time to please him, every concern is tossed aside. It is as if those years you were apart of each other never existed.

Your eyes are locked with each other. You feel his needs and you increase whatever it is you are doing just to hear him moan. And he does. He moans your name. It makes you wet and you feel that friction in your womanhood that you never again felt.

Because the day he parted, my heart and desires followed you.

As if listening to your thoughts, he smiles down at you as his climax begins to build. Obi-Wan interrupts you because he wants to make love to you. This time, he does not struggle to penetrate you.

“Oh my Maker!” You sigh so loud.

There is just you and him in such a large ship. You forget your destination. All that matters now is the love you make. He grips tightly your body, pulling it against him as he moves inside you. There is a sense of possessiveness emanating from Obi-Wan, but it shares yours.

“Obi-Wan!” You moan his name when he fastens his pace. Your hips move just as fast as he is.

“Look at me”, he commands you and you obey. He wants to watch you come undone as he inserts a finger right there. A coy smirk crosses his lips when he watches you widening your eyes. “Look at me, Y/N”.

And you do. Obi-Wan had missed the view, how he affects you, the reason why you cry out his name, why your body shakes. He desires you so badly, it turns him on seeing you like this. So undone for him.

He kisses you hungrily just as you shake and you respond him in the same intensity. You mewl under his touch as he finally releases the seed inside you. Maker, that was so good!

And you keep riding on him because you want more of his seed. His eyes follow your moves lazily, his hands still playing with your tits.

“You are so perfect, Y/N.”

And he cuddles you against him. Messy, both of you are.

“I love you the way you are.”

You can tell he smiles when you cuddle him back, feeling his heartbeat slow down as you rest your head at him.

“I love you, Ben.” You whisper against his ear.

This is the peace you required. The moment both of you needed, the reunion your hearts desired.

But it all comes to an end when the robotic voice of the ship announces that you are about to land in Mandalore.

***

Epilogue.

You dress in a magnificent white gown, whose lace is entailed with details associated to Mandalore. It also has long sleeves, showing some of your cleavage. Your auburn hair is tied in a long braid and over your hear there is a tiara once wore by your mother.

Satine is the one who takes you to the altar. It is only fair after your reconciliation. She acknowledged her wrongs as much as you did yours and now your sisterly bond got stronger. So once she gives you away to Obi-Wan, you whisper a “thank you” that only she could hear.

“You are magnificent, my darling”, says Obi-Wan in his formal robes. There present by his side stands Anakin Skywalker accompanied by Senator Padmé Amidala. Surprisingly, some other members of the Jedi Council are also counted amongs the few guests and Master Windu was one of them with Master Yoda by his side.

“You have very loving eyes, my dear Ben”, you respond softly. “The handsome here is you.”

You exchange long, loving glances. There is tenderness, there is love in your eyes. Then the priest begins the ceremony. Once he blesses your union, you and Obi-Wan profess your vow.

“I now declare you husband and wife.”

He leans forward to kiss you, and you press your lips against him, ever so tender.

“Mrs Kenobi”, you tell him secretively. “It sounds so fancy.”

Obi-Wan laughs at that, but a blush gives his face some color. His heartbeat goes fast at what you say. He cannot believe that he’s finally heard his heart and complied to his needs. Duty was fulfilled and as he looks at you, he knows it is now to you he’s devoted completely.

“I’m looking forward to have you to myself tonight”, he whispers, pleased to make you blush.

But for now the intimacy had to wait as the guests require your attention…

***

As you sleep peacefully by his side, Obi-Wan contemplates you with serenity. His hand traces small circles in your bare back, playing with some locks of your hair. He is more than content to see you are in peace after years of lost in trouble because of the Sith.

But the war carries on outside. Though he does not wish to be remembered that, it’s a fact. Obi-Wan senses a child grows in your belly even if you ignore the fact. This sudden realization makes him smile to himself and cuddle you carefully. But it also worries him.

If something happens to us, the child must be hidden somewhere.

An idea that saddens him, but Obi-Wan, cautious as he may be, knows that he must be prepared for everything.

I know a girl is coming. If so, I’ll name her Rey. It is only fair. Has a ring to it, has it not?

Obi-Wan smiles in content. Why worrying with the future when present is giving you everything he aimed for?

Shaking his head as if he reprehends himself for cultivating what he calls paranoia, the Jedi tends for you. The images of your lovemaking clearly washes away his concerns. Perhaps moved by them, he leans forward to kiss your neck.

Obi-Wan would never let you go again.

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ariwilder · 3 years ago

Text

It’s not over until the Fat Lady sings | Part VII

Pairing: Penny Haywood x Jacob’s Sibling

Summary: It’s over. It’s your final day at Hogwarts. It’s time to say farewell to your friends and soon enough the start of new adventures.

AN: Yes, the hiatus is over after SO LONG. If only you are curious as to what could have taken me so long, just go ahead and read. All I can say for now, however, is this gif.

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Not today.

You land clumsily on the floor and fall face first. You heave a deep breath and feel the cool breeze over your bruised forehead. The floor is wooden you take notice.

“We live.” You sound more excited than relieved.

The tall man of very dark skin gives you a disapproving look as he offers you his big, callous hand, “you may not believe us, but we are not kidnapping you.” He says dimly.

“You are not doing a very believable job at it,” you mutter under your breath as you stand up and divert your eyes in search of your friend.

If Nicolau heard you or not, you do not care.

Feeling a tap behind your shoulder, you turn to find Penny unscratched for the exception of a few stray golden hairs out of place. It kind of takes your breath away, you are not sure if it’s the intense sense of relief or not.

“You okay?" You feel her cradle your face with one of her hands,“I think I heard you hit yourself when we landed.”

You open your mouth to answer, while you feel a hot liquid make its way down your nose. Now that she mentions it a throbbing headache is starting to thunder your scalp.

“Episkey.”

A hot-cold sensation goes over your forehead in that instant, interrupting the nearing headache altogether. You blink at Penny, and smile at her in gratefulness, only to realise the voice you heard had been a baritone.

*Wait….that couldn’t have been Penny.

A sudden cough makes Penny shriek away from you.

“I hopee you are doing goodje , crianças , Nico,” it is Maria's soft voice smiling over you. From the corner of your eye you witness Nicolau withdraw a rather stout wand into his pocket.

If Maria took notice of your awkward situation, she does not verbalize it. You go over your face with your hand quickly, confirming that all of your features remain unscratched in their right place. On your hand, a smear of red blood. Marvelous.

"Where are we?" It is Penny who asks. You both have been asking this question a lot more than you'd like.

From the looks of it, after a brief inspection of the place since your landing, you notice you are inside an old library. Or at least that's what it looks like to you. Row over row of tall, dusty dark bookshelves cover every wall of the two story tall ceiling room. All filled by equally old and dusty books of all sizes, colors and lengths. In the middle is a rectangle reading table, also made of dark wood, six chairs with red tattered cushions and on the roof, suspended on mid-air, an old wooden enchanted chandelier, which oddly enough, didn't offer much for illumination.

"This is my família biblioteca , heirloom of the familia Oliveira for centuries. We are stayim in minha casa for now, is probably more safe." She says this in a grave tone. It does not suit you well.

“What is going on here and where is Rakepick?” you see Nicolau to your left roll his eyes.

Once again, much to your distress, despite being the creator of the portkey, Patricia Rakepick is nowhere to be found in the near vicinity.

Maria grimaces, "Paty is probably getting o’ Ministério off our backs, they almost got us down there , talvez," she adds the last as after thought before avoiding your eyes with a sigh. Yet, you are not ready to let things go.

“What does that even mean? Are we some sort of fugitives? Why were we in the Amazonas? What is this ministerio and why are we running from them?”

You try your best not to holler at them in anger, but being left out of the loop is making you really anxious. You are clenching your fists so tight they are starting to pale. Nicolau steps between you and Patricia instinctively, Penny puts a hand on your arm.

The more time passes the harder it is becoming for you to trust the whole expedition, and the more you think this is a bad idea. You just can't help but to know.

“ Relaxa Nico , it is time dei know.” Maria pats Nicolaus broad shoulders softly, motherly. He untenses instantly.

“Sit, por favor , it is long,” she signals to the chairs over the table. They look as if they haven’t been dusted for centuries, and perhaps they haven’t.

You make your way to a chair, with Penny behind you, begrudgingly. Over the table, you notice, several pictures both magical and inanimate reside in piles, a map of Brazil and another one of the city (you read the words Rio de Janeiro) with different floating signals. One of the maps even had several floating names over it making their way around the city. You try to gulp but you fail, finding your mouth unusually dry.

In front of you, you watch a clearly shaken Maria Aparecida put two bony hands over the research table, her expression distraught, “Eu nem sei por onde começar, how to explain.” She opens her mouth and closes it again, a visible quiver on her bottom lip.

You wish you could feel sympathetic with her, but you don’t. Not when you have been kept in the dark for so long.

“Let me,” it is Nicolau this time, his face as stoic as every moment you have spent with him, “what you see over here is a map of Brazil and the city of Rio de Janeiro ."

You raise one of your eyebrows at him with a sober stare. Your cheeky ‘don’t you say’ remains hot on your lips because Penny nudges your ribs with the point of her elbow. You owww at her, she purses her lips at you. You hiss a ‘ fine ’ under your breath while Nico pretends not to notice your banter.

"We have been following the trail of a number of unusual disappearances, all of which have been escalating in the recent months since their start more than a year ago." Nico pauses as you see a trace of struggle surface through his impassive face.

You dart your attention between Nico and Maria intrigued. The brief info dump had felt like a joke with a punchline that never quite arrived. You can understand why it would be important to follow the trace of several disappearances but you fail to understand how this could be related to curse breaking or why Rakepick had decided to involve herself in it.

"Do the authorities know any of this? Don't you have a Ministry that attends to these matters?" Penny asks matter-of-factly, she probably feels as bewildered as you.

What would a trio of British wizards be doing in Brazil to help solve an arbitrary disappearing mystery? Sounds pretty random, if they asked you. What could you do that the Brazilian ministry couldn't?

Maria Aparecida interrupts your train of thought with a banshee-like chuckle. You would've laughed after her had you not been feeling as annoyed as you currently feel.

"Ja! O’ministério?” she points one bony finger at Penny while she looks at Nicolau, "O’ministério, menina! Ja-ja-ja-jaaaaaaa!" She hollers in fake laughter only to stop suddenly.

"Dei have known for months, dei were the first notify of the disappearances of dise…of dise…" she heaves for a second breath, perhaps to gather herself, "....crianças!" She motions wildly in the air with her hands, “...childs!”

She had spoken so fast it was hard for you to understand.

"Dei are corrupt! The worst, porcaria ! Dei do not care. Not about childs, not about safety, not about Macumba!" She hits the wooden table with both her hands in feverish anger before muttering unintelligible words under her breath, that might have been portoguese with a swear word or two by the sound of it.

Wait.

"Wait, did you say they are disappearing children?"

A powerful feeling between nausea and bemusement punches your stomach. As a persecuted child yourself, you can't help but feel sympathy–anger. It hadn't occurred to you before, not really, that outside of Britain all other kinds of terrors persecuted other children daily.

"They are disappearing sem-magica children from poor regions of Rio de Janeiro-No maj?” He adds as an afterthought after seeing our confused stares.

“You mean muggleborn? Magical children born from no magical parents?” It is Penny who interjects, you hadn’t heard of the term No-maj before.

“Yes, muggleborn. We have tracked seven so far." Nico’s face is in a deep frown, an expression you hadn’t seen in his face before, and emanated a menacing aura around him.

"But that would be hard to hide, right? How can school age magical children disappear out of thin air and have no one notice? Or–"

You can hear a clear distraught in Penny’s voice, heartbreak even. She is probably having a harder time believing something like that could happen just like that, even on the other side of the world. The thought that something like this could happen to her still school-aged sister probably bothers her more than she would be willing to admit.

“Who say dei were school agee?” Maria’s words impale us into an ominous silence.

The implications give you immediate goosebumps, while bile hits the back of your throat.

"Dei are disappearing childs yet to be register in Castelobruxo . O’ministério does not care because dei are not registered ainda the Brazilian magical census,” You see Maria change her palms into firsts over the table.

“Brazilian muggles do not care because the disappearing children are poor and this is ‘normal’ in Brazilian favelas.” Nico quotes in the air with his fingers.

“We also believe there is enough evidence to suggest this might not only be happening in Rio de Janeiro, but all over Brazil.”

Nico’s words are so grave, neither you or Penny dare to utter a word. Not of disbelief, nor support. The matter at hand is far more horrifying than any worst case scenarios you would’ve come up with.

Maria Aparecida hits the wooden table with fury, “And all O’ministério care about is plan the next International Warlock Convention !” She fumes.

“No cause troubawl Maria,” she hits the table with each of her sentences,” No conspiracy theorie Maria,” pum! , “ noting is wrong , noting is happening in Brazil.” pum! , “ Stop or we fire you! Pffft!” pum! , “Macumba no exist anymore!” Her hair turns wilder with every new pummeling of the table, her eyes set up in a flaring glare. Almond eyes so tight and slant you could barely recognize her irises.

Penny reaches for your robe instinctively. You didn’t know Maria Aparecida, if at all, and she looked ready to cast an unforgivable curse at the minor provocation.

“What is Macumba?” The question slips through your lips unconsciously. The word had shimmered at you since its first mention, for some reason resonated in your recent memory.

“Macumba is a very old kind of ritualistic magic that developed in the early magical communities of the 16th century,” Nico pauses and moistens his lips, “you are foreigners, so you do not know but around that time a massive wave of immigration populated Brazil and sem magica, muggleborn, children were not trained in Castelobruxo. That is no longer the case, but Brazil has a long history of misuse and practice of illegal magic, so we think the disappearances could be related.”

Maria stands up suddenly at this, “No, Nico, we no ‘tink’,” she quotes in the aire, “dei are related, we know.”

The loud pop of an apparition interrupts your conversation, before the heavy front doors of the library open with a screech. The bloodied figure of a woman collapses before you, the first to run to her side being Maria in a rush.

“Paty, querida, what happen?” she puts Rakepick’s head over her lap and uncovers her face from a veil, revealing Patricia Rakepick’s signature red head, blood pouring grotesquely down her eyes.

“They have him, Maria, they have him.” She anguishes, if you didn’t know better you could swear you could hear her sob.

Maria remains silent, her face unusually petrous. Beside her Nico kneels.

“Who do they have?” He grabs her robes quite forcefully with intention to shake her. Such a strong reaction takes you aback. Beside you, you notice Penny rummaging through her bag.

“Who do they have, woman?!” He shakes her for real this time, breaking Maria from the quiet reverie she had immersed into.

“She is hurt, stop it,” you grab Nicolau’s forearm menacingly. He glares at you with a snarl, you make a quiet dash to your wand. You might not be fond of Rakepick right now, but you would not allow a stranger to hurt her.

Rakepick brushes Nicolau’s hands from her robes taciturn but placating before speaking to Maria again, “Santos, I think they have Santos, he… he saved me, we have to go back, you have to go back, check your watch.” she orders Maria.

“Help.” Patricia adds as an afterthought before closing her bloodshot eyes. You grip your wand beside you tightly. These last words, however, are meant for you, that much you know.

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

ah: I have no excuses, or way too many for the reason why I had been on hiatus for so long. But I have decided, I will finally give it a try and finish something for a change. The outline is done. I delayed a bit because of the world cup, but I hope to keep going forward. Looking forward for the ride, and you'd like, your company!

xoxo, everyone,

Lycopene.

You can find me in ao3 too.

#penny haywood #penny haywood x mc #penny haywood x jacob's sibling #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #jacob's sibling x penny haywood #jacob's sibling #hphm mc #harrypotter

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luimagines · 4 years ago

Note

oooh i have an idea, how would dear reader reacts to the chain's secrets? they could be canon like wolfie being twi, or something you headcanon!

Masterlist

I procrastinated on this one admittedly because I had no idea where to take it but after writing out a list and appointing a secret to each boy. I have it done.

Some things are definitely headcanons.

Part one will include Hyrule, Sky, Warrior, Four and Wild.

Content under the cut!

Hyrule

The battle wasn’t necessarily hard to deal with- the monsters weren’t difficult to deal with and there weren’t a lot of them to begin with.

You slashed, dashed and kicked every enemy away from you and watched as they fell to your blade. Every new step revealed a new purple cloud as you danced around the battle field.

You saw Wild and Twilight fighting back to back with practiced ease and handling it as well as you were. Warrior and Sky was side by side closer to Time and Legend than the rest of the group was and Four and Wind were up in the trees striking the enemy down at a distance and no doubt scheming something while the going was easy.

The only one you had no idea where he was, was Hyrule.

And that didn’t take a lot to dive into your brain and wriggle uncomfortably until your own insecure thoughts pushed you to go look for him.

Between the monsters and the land mines of purple smoke, it was a little difficult to find him.

But when you do- he does something you don’t fully understand at first.

You manage to run into him in a clearing, but he doesn’t notice you at first. Instead, you see him take his sword and run it through his palm. His blood coats the length of his blade, and it drips down his hand onto the grass below.

He watches the monsters in front of him and dances for a minute around them before he takes a breath and kills them effortlessly.

You frown and step toward him. “Why did you do that?”

Hyrule jumps higher than should be physically possible and doesn’t catch himself on the way down. He falls flat on his butt and looks up at you with wide and startled eyes.

“Are you ok?” You kneels next to him and go to take his injured hand. “What on earth were you trying to do?

Hyrule jerks his hand back like you’ve burned him and you see the magic flow through the air around his wound- closing it like it never happened.

“Link?” You frown again and slowly place your hand in your lap. You’re confused and a little afraid for him. You know that blood magic is taboo for a reason and is typically avoided more often than not because of its’s dark nature- but you never thought Hyrule of all people would dabble in it.

“I’m fine.”

“Link.” You stress a little more. “What were you trying to do? I didn’t think you were capable of blood magic... At least you don’t usually use those kind of spells. Is that why you fight on your own for a while each time?”

“I’m not using blood magic.” Hyrule frowns and stands abruptly.

“Then why-?”

“It’s not important.”

“Hyrule, you’re hurting yourself. I’d say that that’s pretty important.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t make me get Time.” You threaten. “I’ll get Legend too. I bet they’ll get some answers out of you.”

“You won’t just drop it, will you?” He sneers

“Nope.” You stand and cross your arms. “What were you trying to do?”

“I was just checking something.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like if a curse would work or something?”

Hyrule tenses and he crosses his arms- instantly looking away from you.

“WERE YOU ACTUALLY TRYING TO CAST A CURSE?!” You screech.

“THE CURSE WAS CAST ON ME!” He yells back.

You both still for a moment and wait for the forest to show any signs that others might have heard you.

The sounds of distant fighting continues and after a minute of waiting some more, no one shows up to check on either of you, so you’re safe.

You turn back to your companion and furrows your eyebrows. You lower your voice just above a whisper just in case someone might be on the way but now you need answers. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He scowls- a face you’re not used to seeing on him and throws his arms down his sides in anger. “Back home, Ganon cast a curse on me. The monsters need my blood in order to resurrect him and I can’t risk letting any monsters from my time getting to me. I need to check if the other monsters will follow suit.”

You blink, not expecting that answer but your anger flares up regardless. “So you go out on your own to check this curse because your blood is needed to resurrect hatred incarnate? What if you’re overpowered? What if they do react to it? How are we supposed to help you if you’re alone?”

“It’s my problem to deal with. I don’t need-”

“Shut up.” You scowl and grab him by the shoulders. You shake him roughly for as long as you speak. “We are your friends! We care about you! We don’t want to see you hurt! We’re going to help you! Whether you want it or not- we’re not to let you deal with this alone. Not while we’re here.”

“Stop shaking me.”

You let him go.

“I won’t tell the others because I know you wouldn’t like that.” You say. “But this stops today. You hear me? None of us are just going to let these freaks near you and this is not necessary while you have a whole team of heroes just as pissed about the situation as you are. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“How clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good.”

Sky

Sky wakes up one day with a far away look in his eye which immediately puts you on edge.

Not only that but to make it worse, he doesn’t stop looking at you.

He looks scared.

Every five minutes you swear you catch him looking in your direction only to look away in haste when you look back at him.

No one is saying anything and it doesn’t help your paranoia.

With some people walking ahead you, you step back and take a spot next to Sky. You notice that he’s tense and walking robotically, and trying to match your pace. “Dude, what’s up? You’re freaking me out.”

Sky trips over himself and finally looks you in the eye. “What do you mean?”

“You woke up like you saw a ghost. You’ve been looking over to me every five minutes and even now you look like you want to sprint away from me. Did I do something?”

“I.. Ummm...” Sky stutters for a minute before swallowing whatever lump was in his throat. “I just had a dream... is all.... I’ll get over it.”

“I’m assuming it had something to do with me then.”

“No, not exactly.” Sky’s quick to speak even if you can see the beginning’s of sweat collect on his brow. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Want to talk about it?” You tilt your head. “It looks like it really shook you up.”

“Oh, um, I-”

“Maybe you died and Sky freaked out.” Legend pushes you forward and away from Sky. “He doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to.”

“Ok, my god, Legend slow down! Not everyone is as emotionally constipated as you! Talking about things is healthy and important!” You shout over your shoulder, trying to dig your heels into the dirt with little to no luck.

Legend seems a bit stronger right now that he usually is, you bet it’s his power bracelet.

If Sky actually looks a bit paler at Legend’s claim than neither of you notice.

The day passes a little calmer after that, Sky seeming to have calmed down enough to not be so weird and it something you’re quick to forget about.

By the time the afternoon hits, a bunch of dark and foreboding storm clouds roll in.

Somehow, Sky manages to find it in himself to walk next to you again and does his best to stay close.

You don’t mind it and even jokingly pull his sail cloth over your head when it begins to rain on your group. It’s not particularly strong and there’s not a lot of options to rest and take cover, so you bare with it. Sky lets you keep the sail cloth over your head surprisingly.

But then there’s thunder and you see lightning in the distance and bite your lip. “Maybe we should hunker down or something?”

The rain goes from gentle drops to a down pour within seconds and the group runs a bit to gain as much cover as you can in the nearby tree line.

Sky pushes himself in front of you and shoves you behind him with enough force that you’re fully knocked over. In one fluid motion he lifts the Master Sword skyward and charges the blade, tossing it away from the group in a glowing blue arc. It cuts through the grass and even splits the first tree it strikes in half before dissipated into the air.

You would have been struck by lightning if he didn’t do that.

“Sky?” You get up and try to wipe as much mud off of your pants as you can. “Are you ok? How did you know that would happen?”

Sky gulps and takes a deep breath as he looks at you with wide eyes and understanding. “I saw it in a dream.”

“Oh...” You gasp and reach out to him shakily, putting your hand on his shoulder. “You have dreams then?”

“Yes.” Sky looks at his sword and hesitantly puts it away. “Sometimes.”

“Ok then...” You nod and look around the group. They’re all in varying stages of shock, surprise and concern.

Everyone is looking at Sky.

“We need to get out of the storm.” You say in lieu of changing the topic. ” Who knows if there’s more lightning on the way and there’s a lot of metal within the group.“

“Right.” Time nods and does a not so subtle double take in his attempt to leave it be. “Let’s go.”

You nod back and nod once more to Sky and wrap your arm around his shoulder. you lead him forward and lean into his space to whisper into his ear. “Thanks.”

“I’m just glad I made in time.”

“We’ll talk later ok?” You smile in hopes of alleviating some of the tension. “I have some questions if you’re willing to indulge me.”

“I suppose it’s only fair.”

Warrior

“He’s a cute kid.” Warrior mentions randomly one day.

You startle and jump, nearly dropping the image. You scramble to catch it and successfully do so after playing hot potato with yourself.

“Warrior, a little warning please.” You sigh and attempt to clean your finger print smudges on the glass. “But yeah, my little brother is cute. I hope he stays that way.”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about.” Warrior shrugs. “He grows up to be a fine and upstanding young man. Good looks run in the family. ”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Thank you, I’m sure they do.”

Warrior comes to stand next to you and gently turns the glass over to see the image better.

“Warrior?”

“Hm?”

“Am I doing the right thing?” You sigh.

“What do you mean? I’d say you are. Sacrificing yourself for the good of a better tomorrow- for your family- for your loved ones- but that’s not what you’re talking about are you?” Warrior lets you take the image back.

“But he’s so young... and I’m supposed to take care of him.” You gulp. “I just want him to be safe and sound and healthy but I can’t really do that from- from... I’m here instead.“

“Well... no said it was going to be easy.” Warrior offers lamely.

“What if he grows up to hate me?” You clench the glass tighter at the thought. “I just abandoned him, didn’t I? Oh my god-”

“Hey. He loves you.” Warrior takes your shoulders in his hands and shakes you somewhat. “He admires you greatly. You’re his hero. He looks up to you even now. He’ll understand when the time comes.”

“Even now?” You sniff. “What does that mean?”

“Years have passed and he hasn’t stopped looking up to you and how you did everything you could for him, for Zelda and he’s trying to make you proud-”

“Warrior he’s five, how do you know this?”

His mouth shuts with a click of his teeth.

“Warrior.”

“Um... I... He...”

“Link.” You pocket the glass and face him head on. “When did you meet my brother?”

He stares at you for a moment and deflates. “During... during the war of my era.”

“...What?”

Warrior hisses and brings his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “He showed up around the same time that Wind did but he talked about you.... and I guess you talk to him about me because he wasn’t really surprised at what was happening.”

“How old was he?” You bite your lip, already dreading the news.

“Older than me actually.” He offers with a tight smile. “I never asked him but if I had to guess I would have put him in his mid twenties. The oldest Link to start his adventure compared to the rest of us...”

“But he still...” You deflate as well and hug your arms around yourself. “He still has to go doesn’t he? I can’t save him from it. Even now, I... I can’t- I fail him in the end then.”

“He doesn’t see it that way at all.” Warrior catches you before you fall to your knees in despair. “He admires everything you’ve done for him, everything you’re currently doing. You kept him from danger for as long as you could- until he was old enough to take on his destiny. That’s more than any of us could say.”

“I don’t want him to go through any of it though.” You sob and lean into Warrior for support. “That’s my baby brother Warrior- how am I supposed to be ok with this?”

“I don’t think there is a way.” He admits. “Nor do I think you should be.”

“I can’t keep him from it.”

“But you can and have been postponing it.” Warrior rubs circles into your shoulder as you cry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you even more.”

“I miss him.”

“You’ll see him again.” Warrior grips you tightly. “He also did very well all things considered. He became an older brother to me and to Sprite and Wind... I don’t think Wind has figured it out yet that your brother and Lucky are the same Link though.”

You sniffle and calm down slightly. “Was he awesome?”

A laugh is startled out of him and he chokes on the snort and cough that tries to leave him at the same time. “I’d say he was better than me... And he claims to have never held a sword until then.”

“Good.” You nod. “He’s the best brother in the whole world.”

“Yeah, he was.”

Four

You’re walking on a random trail as the day dies down and you’re partner is Four for the hour.

The sun rests behind you comfortably and you talk about the different weapons from each others Hyrule. You’re no smith- but you do think it’s an interesting process and try to take notes where you can.

As you trade your notes and laugh at the more ridiculous stories from one another, you look down and notice something weird with Four’s shadow.

It almost looked like it was laughing along too... in the opposite direction that Four was looking in. But you blink and it’s as if it never there.

Maybe you’re tired.

You have been walking all day and perhaps it was a trick of the light.

You don’t think on it too much and go back to talking with your friend.

Hours later-you’d think that it would be the end of it but it isn’t.

In fact, you can’t sleep. And the way it moved was different than it should have been and the more you look into the memory there more obscurities than there should be. Not to mention that Four gets weird around shadows or whenever they are mentioned.

You stare up at the star filled sky as you think about the incident.

“I’m telling you I think they saw me.” A new voice says.

You’re thrust into the moment and attune your hearing to the direction it came from.

“I think you’re thinking too much into it. How could they have seen you?” It’s Four.

You close your eyes and roll over in the same direction, pretending to still be asleep.

The voices take a minute to pick up again when you do that.

They were watching you.

“They stared at me for a solid minute- how did you miss that?” New voices hisses.

“They were laughing-”

“You were laughing, you love sick fool. They looked at me. They saw me. I’m going to blow the secret and you’re not even listening to my warning.”

Your eyes snap open and you push yourself up as quickly as you can.

You instantly spot Four sitting by the fire, but you’re not surprised by that. What really takes your attention is the new person next to him- who looks uncannily like your friend.

But with purple hair...

And red eyes...

And darker skin...

“Four what the hell?” You blurt.

Four responds quickly and as intelligently as he can manage. “Uhhhh...”

The person next to him curses and runs a hand through his hair. “I told you. I told you. I told you.”

You lock eyes with the new guy and introduce yourself.

He huffs and crosses his arms, his face darkening slightly- or again- maybe it was a trick of the light. “I’m Four’s shadow.”

“His... shadow...?”

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

You nod, wide eyed before turning to Four with a million questions in your eyes. He can see it and holds his hand up to his mouth, pressing his knuckles harshly against his teeth as he waits for them to start flowing out of your mouth.

“Love sick fool?”

“Shadow you snitch!” Four screeches and takes a swing at him.

His cry is loud enough rouse some of the others but only really wakes up two of them. You stare tensely as Time and Legend sit up fast enough to nearly throw themselves into the fire as they turn to Four.

“Sorry.” You whisper yell to save his honor.

Shadow is nowhere to be found.

Time and Legend turn to you as the only other one awake and each raise an eyebrow in tandem.

“Ni-nightmare. I yelled. I’m sorry.” You try to act like you just woke up as well and try to hunker down into your blankets.

Time sighs and wipes his eyes. “You ok?”

“I will be.” You try to smile but you’re too nervous and it comes out more forced than it should- but perhaps that helps you sell your little fib.

Legend for his part glares at you before he sits down with a solid thump and throws himself dramatically back into his bedroll.

No words are exchanged between you two.

“Everything alright Four?” Time yawns as he also begins to lie down again.

“Yeah. All good here.” Four laugh nervously and waves him away.

Time nods, no longer paying attention and slowly... nearly half an hour later, you see that the two of them have fallen asleep again. Thankfully neither of them seem to realize that it didn’t sound like your voice at all.

Shadow appears again from somewhere and takes his spot next to Four. “Nice going.”

“Shut up.”

“Four, I have questions.” You sit up and make your way over to the two of them.

Shadow raises an eyebrow. “What’s there to explain?”

“Everything?”

“Ok. Ok. Both of you, don’t start. You caught us fair and square. Sit down.” Four sighs and gestures to the other spot next to him. “It’ll take a while.”

“Done.” You grin and nearly run over a sleeping Sky in the process. “Tell me everything.”

Wild

“Has anyone seen Mr. Champion?” You glance up after doing a supply check through your bag. You’re running a little low on rations and know the resident cook usually has some to spare.

But you haven’t seen him in a while.

“Didn’t he go to get fire wood?” Wind tilts his head.

“Wasn’t that at least an hour ago?” You respond, furrowing your eyebrows as you think about it more. Where did Wild go?

“He hasn’t come back yet?” Warrior sits up straighter. Now the rest of the group is a little more aware of their missing member and each start subconsciously checking the tree line as if he were about to come back that very second.

“I can go look for him.” You offer, standing up. “Maybe he got distracted. We are in a new area.”

“Oh great, he could be miles away and we’d never know.” Legend groans and throws his head back. “Just what we needed.”

“Have a little faith Vet.” You snort. With a quick jump and skip over the supplies, you begin to leave the camp behind. “Try calling him Wind, I’ll see if I can go find our missing chef before dinner.”

“Please do.” Time nods. “We’ll start a full search party if you’re not back within the next hour though. It’s getting too dark.”

“Noted.”

“I could find him faster.” You hear Twilight say but you’re already too far away to back down now.

Truthfully, you have no idea where to start- but you imagine that to find Wild- one must think like Wild.

You pick a direction and stick with it.

At some point maybe fifteen minutes in you reach a small creek and begin to follow to stream upwards.

It’s really more like you’re taking a hike than searching for your friend and you begin to feel a little stupid even if realistically there’s no other way for this to be done.

That is- until you see him anyway.

He’s seems to be frozen in place, staring off into the distance with his hands still held mid air, gripping the canteen he appears to have been filling up.

It confuses you and you stand there staring at him to move- to blink- to do something. But he doesn’t. “Wild?”

No response.

“Champion?” You call a little louder and begin to tip toe a little closer to him. You’re afraid that even the slightest snapping of a twig would break whatever spell he’s under and you don’t fancy a violent reaction out the man who can easily blow the whole area up with little to nothing.

But still no response.

“Link!” You hiss and eventually reach his side. He hasn’t once turned in your direction or even acknowledged your presence and you begin to doubt that he’s even conscious.

His eyes are open and he’s knelt beside the creek but maybe he got hit with some magic or something- you don’t know.

You gulp and place a hand on his shoulder. You shake him lightly but when that also proves to not do anything you begin to shake him more and more until you nearly throw him over-but he does not react at all.

“Oh boy... What on earth happened to you?” You bite you lip and begin to look around. He’s too heavy for you to carry on your own and also too far away to yell for help or assistance.

You should have dragged Twilight with you.

Suddenly he takes a deep breath and blinks rapidly, shaking himself back into the present.

You freeze and tense up considerably as you watch him come back to himself.

Wild stretches and looks up at the sky before standing up. “Twilight’s not going to like this.”

“No. I don’t think so.” You reply.

He freezes as well and looks at you by only shifting his eyes. “How long were you here for?”

“A while...” You admit. “Maybe fifteen minutes. You were gone for over an hour. I got worried.”

“Oh. That’s not so bad then.”

“You ok?” You gulp and slowly drop your shoulders from your ears and unclench your fists.

“Yup. Peachy.”

You nod and continue to lower your guard- not trusting this one bit. “May I ask what that was?”

“Just a memory.” He shrugs and tries to walk past you.

“A memory?” You frown and turn on your heel to follow him. “A memory? I shook you head enough to nearly throw you into the water and you claim it was because of a flashback? I’ve heard of disassociation before but I think this is more like astral projection through dimensions. You were completely gone!”

“It happens from time to time. Nothing to worry about.”

“What if something came up behind you and killed you?” You argue. “I’d say that’s something to worry about. Does this happen often?”

“Everyone once in a while. Maybe once every other month. It depends really. It doesn’t happen as often as it did in the beginning though.” Wild admits and gestures for you to follow him.

You do- but you keep asking him questions.

“So this is normal?”

“For me? Yes.”

“For you?”

“I...” Wild hisses slightly as another thought comes to his mind. “I never told you did I?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m going to assume that no, you didn’t.”

“I get memories from my old life from time to time when something triggers them. I used to have amnesia but I’ve got most of the my memories back at this point... By now it’s just filling in little blanks.” Wild shrugs. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh...” Understanding calms you somewhat. At least it’s not a magic spell or anything. “How did you get amnesia? Do you remember that?”

Wild stops in his tracks and looks at the ground momentarily before looking up again and walking forward. “I died.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I died.”

“Huh?”

“I. Died.”

“WILD!” You tense up again and follow him without hesitation. “What do you mean you died? Did you heart just stop or were you like blow up or something- Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I’m being super insensitive right now, aren’t I? But I don’t understand! I don’t- Wild- Link- you can’t just drop a bomb like that. Are you like a ghost or something? No. Wait. You can bleed and I’ve seen you crash into more walls and rocks than I care to admit.”

“This isn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting.” Wild frowns and cuts you off.

“ArE YOu oK?!”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“But that’s not what I mean- How can that even make sense-”

“Where did you think I got my scars from?” Wild cuts you off once more with a barely restrained snort as he bites his lip.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m fine I promise.”

“Wild nooo....” You whine and Wild thinks for a minute that the information upset you so much that you’re going to cry. “Who did it? I’ll kill them with my bare hands. Who hurt you?”

Wild comes to a full stop again and sighs. Deep and tired but he tilts his head and offers you his hand. “Do you want the short story or the long?”

“Long story please.”

For the first time since this conversation started, Wild smiles even if it’s faint and subtle. “Alright, let’s take the scenic route back. This might take a while.”

Part 2

#linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #linked universe #is my personal plot line growing #maybe #maybe not #those you have been following for a while will take Warrior's call back for what it is #can't fully break away from god given duties can you?#Link is no exception #also #Apparently Sky gets prophetic dreams #i've never played skyward sword #but I've been meaning to get it for the Switch #so soon!!#Maybe Sky will be easier to write after I play it

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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Tempting the Fates {Chapter 1}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A/N: Fun fact about this one, y’all. I wrote the first chapter over 3 years ago and it was for a completely different story. This one has evolved on it's own and Tara and I are so excited to finally share it with you.

Word Count: 3493

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Zeus

– King of the gods and ruler of Mount Olympus; god of the sky, lightning, thunder and law.

The waves lapped against the sand as Aelin sighed. Strong hands rubbed the muscles in her back and worked out the kinks in her neck as the warm sun heated her body. The smell of the salt water filled her senses and she settled into the cushioned chaise. Another set of hands set a fruity looking drink with a little pink umbrella on the table next to her head. She smiled at it.

“Can we get you anything else, miss?”

Aelin opened her mouth to tell them exactly what they could do to her.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Aelin’s eyes snapped open and she glared at her phone, chiming at her to get up.

She groaned, reaching for the offending device and silenced it, pulling her pillow over her head. She began to doze back off when her bedroom door flew open, smacking into the dresser on the wall behind it. She sat bolt upright and found her roommate leaning against the doorframe, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a gleam of mischief in her emerald eyes.

“Rise and shine, princess,” Lysandra drawled. Aelin just continued to scowl at her roommate. The bright warmth of the sun in her dream faded away as she looked out the window. Ice coated it and she could see a fresh layer of snow coated everything. “Aedion is about to be up, too. If you’d like any chance of taking a warm shower before class today, I’d suggest-.”

She was up and in the hallway before Lysandra could even finish her sentence.

Thirty minutes later, she sat on the kitchen counter, hair wrapped up in a towel, eating an apple and going over her schedule for the thousandth time. Her four classes were split into two days each, mercifully giving her Friday off.

Her cousin, long golden hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, came into the kitchen, pulling the jug of milk out of the fridge. He leaned on the counter across from her and drank straight from the plastic bottle, glaring daggers at her.

“Can I help you with something,” she asked him sweetly.

“You used the last of the hot water,” Aedion sulked, taking another swig.

She looked over, blowing him a quick kiss. “Maybe you should have gotten up earlier.”

He rolled his eyes, identical to her own, and came over to look at her computer screen. “What classes do you have this semester?”

She scrolled down the list, reading them off. “Pathophysiology, Caring for the Childbearing Family, Health and Gerontology, a few labs, and Mythology.”

Aedion’s eyebrows pulled together as she read the last one. “That doesn’t seem like it will be very helpful to a nurse.”

She shrugged, closing the laptop and sliding off the counter. “I needed one last elective. I’ve always been interested in Greek and Roman mythology and it’s a freshman level class. I figured why not study something for fun for once?”

He couldn’t fault her logic and began pulling ingredients out of the fridge to cook breakfast as Aelin headed back towards her bedroom. “Whatever you’re cooking, make two,” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t even need to look back to know the obscene gesture being flicked in her direction.

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

Aelin was regretting studying something fun for once as she looked at the map of her classes.

All of her classes, save for one, were in the nursing building. Of course, that one other class was all the way across campus, in one of the general education buildings. At least walking there would take her right past her favorite coffee shop on campus and with an eight am every Tuesday and Thursday morning, she knew she’d take full advantage of that.

Thankfully today was a Monday, so she’d be spending the entirety of her day in the nursing building. But first, she had to have coffee. The first day of the semester required coffee.

Aelin parked in one of the student lots close to the nursing building. Throwing her leather bag over her shoulder, she slammed her car door. It was absolutely freezing and she suppressed a growl as she saw soft white flakes drifting toward the ground.

What a great way to start off the semester, she thought.

She made her way across campus, hands deep in her pockets and face buried in her scarf. As she crossed the quad, she pulled her phone out to check the time. She still had about twenty minutes to get coffee and get to class. Snow crunched under her boots as she picked up the pace, wanting to be sure she made it on time. Aelin was big on first impressions.

As she approached the door of the café, she reached for the handle, but the door swung open suddenly, slamming into her and knocking her off her feet.

The young girl, eyes wide, apologized profusely but said that she had to get to class and ran off. Aelin was mumbling something about where the freshman could go, when she heard a deep chuckle and a tan, tattooed hand appeared in front of her face. She glanced up and the air was pulled from her lungs.

The owner of the hand was a handsome man in his mid-twenties, with hair the color of the snow swirling around his head and green eyes. Not emerald like Lysandra’s, but deep and rich like a pine tree. A tattoo, similar to the one on his hand, snaked up his neck and onto his face. She’d be willing to bet it ran down the whole length of his arm. She’d love to find out for herself. He smiled at her, a wicked, beautiful smile. She could only stare at the gorgeous stranger as she gripped her hand in his. He lifted her to her feet.

“You okay?” He asked. Aelin nodded, pulling her hand out of his. He opened the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. She stepped into the delicious warmth and immediately got her wits back.

“I’m Aelin,” she said, giving him a man eater’s smile.

“Rowan,” he said, a slight incline of his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, Rowan,” she said, letting his name slip out of her lips like a purr, as she’d heard Lysandra do it to her cousin many times. She knew it drove Aedion crazy and for some reason, that’s exactly what she wanted to do to this man. She walked to the line. He got in line behind her and she pulled out her phone, figuring that would be that. A bit of shameless flirting with a stranger was never a bad thing. She ordered her coffee and was surprised when the barista handed her the paper cup, a phone number written on the side. She quirked an eyebrow at the girl, who gave Aelin a knowing glance and looked over her shoulder. Aelin turned around, meeting a pine green gaze, and smiled at him. She headed back out into the frost and snow, pulling her phone out to snap a picture of the cup to send to Lysandra, knowing her best friend would love this.

Finding the classroom in the nursing building where she’d spent the bulk of the past two years was a breeze and she made it into the classroom with seven minutes to spare. She enjoyed her time with Professor Hafiza in the fall and anticipated she’d like her this semester again, too. Nonetheless, she settled in about three-quarters of the way up and looked at the coffee cup again.

Feeling bold, she entered the number into her phone and sent a quick text.

Any chance you want to sweep me off of my feet again and grab drinks later? I’m free anytime after 5:00. – Aelin.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

My last class lets out at 6:00 and I have to go to the gym afterward. How does 8:00 sound?

She typed a quick reply and placed her phone back on her desk.

Sounds like a date. The Beer Cellar, on Church Street.

She smirked to herself and glanced down at her watch. 9:58. Not even 10:00 am and the semester was off to a great start.

She unlocked her phone, shooting a quick text to Lysandra, letting her know about her new plans for the evening when she heard the door open and students started to hush.

It wasn’t the most exciting class, Aelin had to admit, but she supposed the information was necessary. Hopefully it wasn’t an indication of how the rest of her semester would go. She needed a little excitement in her schedule, that was for sure.

Aelin liked to be kept on her toes.

After two classes and a crappy salad for lunch from the school cafeteria, Aelin was hurrying across campus and down the street, toward her apartment. Lysandra was nowhere to be found, which meant she was either snuggled up with Aedion somewhere or still in class. Aelin’s bet was on the former.

After organizing her deskspace, Aelin went to her closet, and attempted to pick out what she should wear for the night. It was her first date of the semester, which either meant that it could be a complete win or a complete fail.

She ultimately decided that the sluttier the better.

Laying the gold dress out on her bed, she let herself into the Lysandra’s room, borrowing a pair of strappy black heels she knew her roommate would absolutely approve of and was back out the door, ready to suffer through her first lab of the semester. Three hours was going to drag by, but thankfully, it was only once a week.

And drag by it did, but Aelin wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the monotonous recap of her previous semester’s information or thinking about seeing Rowan again. She usually wasn’t so forward, even though Rowan had clearly been the one to start it all, giving her his number. But still, she typically would have at least waited a day or two before texting him.

But there was just something about him that she couldn’t get out of her head.

She grabbed her gym bag out of the car, thankful she had a bit of time to get a work out in before she went out. Thanks to tonight, Aelin was a pent up ball of energy and needed to get it out someway. After a solid forty-five minutes on the treadmill and nearly thirty on the free weights, Aelin was heading for the locker room when she noticed a silver head of hair across the gym.

She watched him as he pulled himself up on the bar, his chin going over the piece of metal each time. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, sweat poured down his chest as his arms swelled. Aelin had been right.

That tattoo went across his chest, and all the way down his arm. He did the pull-ups so effortlessly, and Aelin’s mind began to wander to unholy places.

It wasn’t until his feet hit the mat beneath him that she was brought back to reality and hurried into the locker room. If he was here, that meant their date was approaching, and she had to get ready. She checked her phone. It was nearly seven.

Aelin hurried back home and showered. She had once vowed, during her freshman year, that she would avoid the gym showers at all costs and only used them under emergency circumstances. Luckily, her and Lysandra’s apartment was only five minutes from the gym.

After a shower and a full-body shaving session, Aelin was brushing out her long, golden hair and blow drying it until it was flowing freely down her back. She kept her makeup decently simple - at least, that’s how she made it look, and straightened the slight waves out of her hair before putting on her little, golden dress.

Once she had slipped on Lysandra’s heels, she was looking at herself in the mirror and even she had to admit that she was looking hot.

After grabbing her clutch, she hurried down the hallway and into the living room, where she found Lysandra and Aedion snuggled together on the couch, watching a movie.

“Going out with a stranger?” Lysandra asked, brow raised. “I'm so proud of you.”

“Yeah, just keep it in your pants,” Aedion mumbled.

“I thought I’d bring him back here,” she said, winking at Lysandra. “You don’t want to have breakfast together tomorrow?”

“Absolutely not,” Aedion mumbled and Lysandra chuckled, leaning into his embrace.

“Have fun, call me if you need me,” Lysandra called as Aelin blew them a kiss and headed for the door.

Her Uber was waiting when she walked out front and before she knew it, she was walking down the stairs into her favorite bar. Glancing around, she didn’t see Rowan sitting at the bar or any of the booths around the room.

So she bought herself a drink and claimed one of the pool tables, setting her coat and clutch on a bar stool nearby. Over halfway through the game, she felt eyes on her and glanced up to find Rowan standing at the other end of the table. Giving him a smirk, she knocked the cue ball into the yellow-striped 9 ball. It sank into the pocket.

“Playing with yourself?” Rowan asked, and Aelin caught a slight accent that she had missed earlier.

Aelin’s grin widened. “Well, if I’m left hanging, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.”

Rowan breathed a laugh. “Fair enough. And if I asked to join?”

“You sure you don’t just want to watch?” she asked, leaning on the table, making sure her cleavage was perfectly visible.

Rowan’s tongue shot out and subtly licked his bottom lip. “Tempting.”

Aelin pushed herself back and grabbed the rack, starting to collect the balls. “Buy me a drink and then we’ll talk.”

Rowan bit his lip to hide his spreading grin. “Fair enough. I’ll be back.”

Aelin watched as he left, watched as he went to the bar and bought her another drink, alongside one for himself. He came back with two glasses. One was the color of the sunrise, the other a caramelly brown.

“Sex on the Beach?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

He shrugged and handed her the glass. “Sounded promising.”

“So… Rowan,” she said, letting his name drag out as she said it. He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and the black Henley he wore made his hair seem even brighter in the dim light of the bar.

“Aelin,” he purred right back, pulling a pool stick from the wall behind her, nearly boxing her in. She realized then how much larger than her he was.

She loved it.

“I hope your coffee helped you get through the rest of your day,” she said, resetting the game and racking the balls. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached into the middle of the table, and he was watching her, staring at her ass.

Slutty was definitely the right option tonight.

“It certainly did, especially considering how boring it was,” he replied, reaching around her for the chalk that rested on the edge of the table. “But when I got your text, it gave me something to look forward to. Even if it made the day last twice as long.”

“Happy I could help.” She picked her drink up and stirred it, before taking a long sip through the straw.

“Would you like to break, or should I?” He asked, nodding to the pool table.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

He grunted as he stepped forward, lined up his stick, and knocked the cue ball into the others. They broke apart, but none of them fell into the pockets. Rowan stood there for a moment, his lips pursed. Meanwhile, Aelin tossed her head back and burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright,” Rowan said, straightening up and turning to face her. “So pool isn’t my thing.”

Aelin stepped up next to him and aimed her stick, leaning over the table, her ass nearly rubbed up against Rowan’s front. “Hopefully you’re better at other things.”

Rowan’s hand brushed along Aelin’s hip, just as she got ready to shoot, causing her shot to go haywire. She spun around, eyes narrowed. “That’s foul play.”

“No one said we were playing fair,” he countered.

“What about playing for drinks?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted his own eyebrows and he said, “I’ve got an eight am…”

Shrugging, she said, “So do I.” Then she leaned in close, thankful for the three-inch heels she’d pilfered from Lysandra’s closet and breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re up in time.”

“So sure of how this night is going to go,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear him, and she felt his hand skimming over the curve of her ass. “Fine. We’ll play for drinks.”

It turned out Rowan hadn’t been lying about pool not being his thing. They played three games back to back, and he lost them all, but every time he returned with a drink for Aelin, he had one for himself as well. By the time she dragged him towards the small dance floor in the center of the bar, they were both stumbling and his lips found her neck before his hands even gripped her hips.

His lips were soft, gentle, nothing like she had expected. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe he was just getting tired, perhaps he was usually rough.

But, when his hands found Aelin’s hips and he brought her back into him, she felt that roughness. It seemed Rowan was the best of both worlds. Gentle when prompted, rough beneath the surface.

Aelin turned to him and slung her arms around his neck, bringing his lips to hers. Their mouths crashed into one another, and their bodies slowed until it felt like they were the only two on the dancefloor.

Rowan pulled away, just a little bit, and breathed, his eyes wild, “Aelin-.”

“Take me to your place,” she said, her mouth finding his, once again.

Before she knew what was happening, they were in the backseat of an Uber, unable to keep their hands off of one another. Thanks to it being a college town, the driver didn’t say a word, just dropped them in front of an upscale building, just off the east side of campus.

She noticed how nice it was on the short elevator ride up, but was much more preoccupied by the way his hips pressed into hers. He dragged her along the hall, his lips never leaving hers, until her back was pressed against a cool door and he was fumbling to get it unlocked. It swung wide and she gripped his collar, pulling him inside.

Throwing her clutch and coat by the door, Aelin let her hands dive into his cropped silver hair and he responded by cupping her ass and lifting her up. Her legs were around his waist and he carried her through the apartment and into his bedroom. Neither of them had any delusions about how and where this would end and Aelin felt like she was going to combust as he dropped her on the bed and gazed down at her.

His eyes were full of lust, full of hunger, a wild animal with his eye on his prey. He wasted no time stripping Aelin down and admiring her body with his hands, his tongue, his lips. Rowan may not have been good at pool, but he was right when he said he was far better at other things.

He worshipped her, and Aelin knew it wasn’t the alcohol when she was sent into utter bliss.

When he rolled off of her, breath still uneven, Aelin watched as he dealt with the condom and fell back into the bed beside her.

She cleared her throat. “I can go…if you want me to.”

Rowan turned to look at her, and she could tell he was still just as drunk as she was. “What? No, of course not. You said you’ve got an eight am, too, right?” She nodded and he tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to him. They were both still gloriously naked and she could feel the heat radiating off of his body. “Then we can both make sure the other is up so we aren’t late. Or too hungover.”

Aelin snorted softly, resting her head on his chest. “I think that particular ship has sailed.”

“You’re probably right,” he mumbled and she could tell he was already starting to doze. She was on the brink of sleep herself.

Aelin decided then, as her eyes closed, that she didn’t care if she was hungover in the morning, or if she was late to her eight am. A night being praised by Rowan had been perfectly worth it.

#tempting the fates #snacmc ttf #snacmc collab #rowaelin ttf #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius

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holocene-sims · 3 years ago

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next // previous

may 25, 2021 7:30 p.m. grant's house

watching television lost its glimmer hardly half an hour after grant stressed himself out again by checking his phone, so he escapes his mental prison by doing what he should have done in the first place. he braves whatever fears he still has and heads upstairs to play skyrim like he intended. so what if he does run into päivi later on?

skyrim more fun than brooding all afternoon and he’s quickly sucked into the game again with no external thoughts even crossing his mind until hunger brings him back to consciousness. he exits the game, realizes it’s well after 7 o’clock, and leaves to fetch something from the kitchen.

he never heard the creak of the front door, but there’s no doubt päivi is back from work by now. grant spies her shoes by the door and her leather bag hangs in its place on the coat rack. when he goes to open the refrigerator, he can’t help but notice her car keys and a magazine or something of the sort laying on the counter.

without thinking, grant abandons his search for sustenance and picks up the paper item.

he looks for only a moment before the paper morphs into a hot potato and he discards it in a hurry, putting it back under her car keys where it belongs.

planned parenthood.

it was a planned parenthood pamphlet.

not that he’s surprised, of course, or against the purpose of the pamphlet. he knows why she’d have it.

but still.

grant turns his back to it and awkwardly opens the fridge from the side, refusing to acknowledge his mistake of rifling through päivi’s things.

he ends up reheating another serving of the homemade macaroni and cheese his grandmother sent him back with. he saved it for last, and sure, he’s eaten in three days in a row, but he could never get sick of eating it. plus he decides not to banish himself to the basement. no matter what, he will walk back into the office, sit down, and eat his dinner in peace. he bought the house with his own damn money and he’s going to use it.

grant steps out into the living room, food in hand, and–

oh.

päivi is sitting on the couch. just sitting there twiddling her thumbs expectantly.

“you were waiting for me, weren’t you?” grant asks, gripping tighter onto the bowl in his hands until his fingers blanch cold white.

“can i please talk to you for like five minutes?” she pleads.

her tone is remarkably different than it has been every other time he’s spoken to her in the last two weeks. it’s more like the päivi he knows well. soft, gentle, relaxed. and for a moment her demeanor fools him. he almost abandons his plans to instead join her on the couch for a conversation, but no, he stands his ground. grant remains firm where he is and stares straight ahead at her, saying nothing.

“okay, fine.” she purses her lips, frowning. “i get it. i, um...i thought maybe...i don’t know, we’ve been together for a long time. i thought it’s only fair we settle affairs.”

“what affairs? like the one you had?”

she plays the silent game, too, for a while. päivi stares back at him, waiting until he cracks, though he never does.

but the tension in the room is shattered by an ear-splitting crash of thunder and the rattle of the house as the energy flows through it.

“never mind.” päivi waves him off with a flick of her wrist and a callous eye-roll. “anyway, you’ll be glad to know i'll be out of here in a couple weeks. i have some, um, things to take care of first, but don’t worry about it. i'll have my shit out of here before you even know it.”

grant sighs. “good.”

he vanishes and shuts himself away in the office, though the immediate sound of päivi’s crying as he closes the door is enough to steal his appetite and replace it with churning nausea. grant sits there at the desk for a few minutes stirring his food with a spoon idly, not eating a bite.

it’s over. he knows it is. he came to that conclusion days ago. nothing could or should salvage this. but maybe he could have been nicer. he could have heard her out that time. she had been palatable. she could have meant well this time.

grant anxiously shrugs off the thoughts as a chill runs down his spine. his hand quivering, he finally takes a bite of food. a second later, the bedroom door across the hall slams shut.

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 screenshots #simblr #hlcn: everything the stars promised #first of all: i had to approximate the pamphlet #second: iykyk but do NOT worry because grant is NOT a pro-lifer!! he's pro-choice!! he's just awkward in this particular scene obviously!!#third: EYE SPY THE ENGAGEMENT RING #also can we appreciate grant's strawberry socks? <3 #gamer boy strawberry socks <3 #holocene.png #holocene.docx #hlcn: grant #hlcn: päivi

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multifandomthoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Dark King of Desire

MINORS DNI

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Penetration, Dry humping

The rain beats down on the Oro Jackson, lightning and thunder making it almost impossible to sail. But to support your captain and his crew, you stayed outside, gripping the side of the ship. The ship rocks and sways but one thing that doesn’t budge is Rayleigh.

His posture is tight, his voice booming through the storm as he shouts commands, muscles glistening from a mixture of the rain and sweat. His arms bulge as he pulls in the sails, and you have to avert your eyes just so you can focus on the task at hand. You’re soaked, and the only thing you want to do is go inside and dry off. But you have your own work to do. You linger a bit longer to watch him work. He’s just so alluring, the moments turn to minutes and soon you’re all settled in to brave the worst of it. Rayleigh looks over the whole deck to make sure everyone is accounted for, and your eyes meet. You look away quickly, hoping that between the distance and the rain he can’t see your blush.

You swear that his eyes having been wandering just like your own, but to what you can’t figure out. It can’t possibly be you, he has much more important things to do than talk to you. But here he comes, long strides and firm shoulders as if he’s talking to the most powerful person in the world. You shudder to think of what could possibly be so important that he’s coming over here for.

You try and find something to do so you look busy, and end up fiddling with a knot in the rope ladder. “Can I… help you, sir?” You ask politely, not looking at him yet. He looms over you, a serious look on his face but mischief in his eyes. “Seems like I should be asking you that. You were looking at me like you needed my attention for something. Mind telling me what that was?”

Gulping loudly, you begin to try to think of an excuse. It was rude to stare, and you had no idea whether or not he was actually looking at you. “I wanted to go down and lay in my room for a bit…the swaying of the boat was making me feel uncomfortable. But once I made eye contact with you I figured that I had been found out and I had to stay. I felt I had to keep looking at you to make sure I was still required above deck.” You mumble out, trying to look past his exposed chest and look him in the eyes

He nods in agreement with this explanation. “Alright, guess I can excuse that then. But going forward, you can just go ahead and slip below decks even if you see me looking. I’ll make the connection as to why, I’m pretty perceptive. For example, your panties are damp… or was that just the storm?” He asks, grinning devilishly

Your face turns a deep red, understanding the entendre almost immediately. Shaking your head, you take a deep breath before responding with a sly “I don’t know, why don’t you follow me and you can find out?” Letting out a deep belly laugh, you were almost certain that you were screwed. Instead, his strong firm hand clasps yours as he walks you down to your private quarters.

As you’re led inside and get a chance to think things over, you come to the embarrassing realization his innuendo was actually quite correct. Without even realizing, you had indeed become aroused. Mentally setting that aside as a fun surprise for Rayleigh later down the line, you squeeze his hand as you enter your room. Now comes the moment of truth, he called your bluff before so you have to follow through for the sake of your dignity. “Guess I should get out of these wet clothes before I catch pneumonia or something…” you sigh playfully, seeing Rayleigh has already dropped his wet coat and taken a seat on your bed to watch.

Your pants were torn, not from wear and tear but from slashes and stabs. That being said, it made it a breeze to drop them. Sighing, you step out of the soaking puddle around your feet. You bend over, pulling a bandana out of you hair and whip it back, allowing your hair to be free. However, it releases all the water, causing you to shiver slightly. Next was your crop top that you had created yourself; it was too fancy and frilly upon your purchase. As you cross your arms to pull it up and off from the bottom, you glance over to see his reaction. He’s just tapping his finger and giving an easy going smile, as if this means nothing to him. Frowning, you turn around so he’ll have to stare at your back rather than the perky breasts you’re now exposing to the cool night air.

You toss your top over your shoulder at Rayleigh, not even looking at him now. If he wants the show to continue he has to ask, otherwise he better be content with wet fabric. You hear the sound of a weight being removed your bed, then the soft creak of footsteps across the floor, and the next thing you know Rayleigh’s arms are around your waist. “Might if I help with the grand finale?”

You try to act indignant. “Hmph! I don’t see why you should get to, you weren’t nearly appreciative enough of what I’ve done so far.” You haven’t given me one look over, not one compliment, nothing! I might as well let your wet clothes cause you shrinkage. You turn away from him and pout, not letting your true emotions be known.

Rayleigh rest his head atop yours in a pout. “Don’t be like that. I was just being patient; you don’t applaud in the middle of a great concert, you wait until it ends.” It’s a great line, and he knows you liked it. Damn smooth talker… “I guess that logic is acceptable. Fine, I’ll let you do the last bit, but you have to show off for me first. And I’m not turning around until you say something else nice.” You can feel the chuckle ripple through his chest to his jaw, then he leans down to kiss your neck. “If I didn’t have my spirits literally dampened by these clothes I’d be rock hard and dying to feel you… How does that sound?” A delighted shiver runs down your back, and suddenly you’re soaked all over again.

In an impressive feat of strength, he rips off his shirt with only his bare hands. Drops of rain still cling to his smooth chest, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m at least a little bit warmer now, but now my upper body is cold.” You don’t understand, what does he mean? Oh. Oh. He smirks, watching as you struggle to respond. You decide to tease him one more time. “Then go ahead and lie back on my bed. I’ll handle those pants, and then we’ll see if you even want to sit up again to get me naked?” Now it’s his turn to feel flustered, biting his lip to hold back a devilish grin. “I don’t know, most people can’t handle what I’ve got. But you, sweetheart? You seem like you’ll be a formidable challenge for me.” He coos, throwing hot and heavy words back at you.

“Then lie back and let me feel challenged, stud.” You order, sitting on your knees on the edge of the bed and waiting for his obedience. When he complies your hands immediately dive to his fly and within seconds his pants are around his ankles… and you were so eager you yanked off his underwear too. Leaning over his waist, you’re now staring down the barrel of his sex pistol, and it’s every bit the monster you expect from Roger’s right hand man.

You rub yourself up against Rayleigh’s thigh, kissing him hard. “Does someone want attention? Or are you just going to sit there and make me do all the work?” Firm hands grab your thighs as you squeal, being hoisted into the air and directly onto Rayleigh’s lap. “Ooh, seems I came in for a rough landing…” you jeer, knowing full well what he is doing. “I guess you did my dear, and what are you going to do about it?” He retorts, a sparkle in his eye sending shivers down your spine.

You begin to grind your clothed pussy against his hard length, hoping to making him eat his words. Somehow, he’s going to wish he just shut up. His grip on your thighs immediately tightens, and you can see his brow furrow in concentration. His hips twitch, as if it’s taking a lot of will not to buck and roll against you. Guess he still wants to keep the air of composure. That won’t last much longer.

You can feel how hot and ready his saber is just waiting for you to sheath him. You have to bite your own lip to hide how much fun you’re having with this, and at the rate it’s going you might draw blood before any other fluid.

You run your hand across his cock, it’s warmth evident. Along with your hand on his shaft, you begin to wiggle, pressing into him. “Two can play that game.” He sneers, cupping your bare breasts in his hands. Kneading softly, he carefully runs his thumbs over the gentle buds, eliciting a squeak from you.

As if it couldn’t get any better, he pulls you as tight as he can against his throbbing dick. Every move you make, you can feel it pulse and throb. You stop for a minute, with Rayleigh pressing his face directly into your cleavage. His beard tickles as he gently shifts his face, looking to the left and to the right.

You don’t know how much longer you can wait. You’re not at your breaking point, however, your core aches to have his thick cock inside of you. Even just thinking about him makes your thighs clench, and you feel a damp spot in your panties.

Just as you think you’re about to give in and beg for more, he lets go of your chest and starts pulling at your waistband. Jackpot, he cracked first~ You put a hand over his and tut at him in playful judgment. “Tsk tsk tsk… someone’s run out of patience I see. But these are my favorite panties, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tear them apart like a wild man, okay?” On wobbly knees you climb off of Rayleigh and bend at the waist to slide the damp garment down your thighs. The fresh air reaching your wet and sensitive nethers is enough to overwhelm you for the moment, and you fall forward onto your hands and knees. Without meaning to, you’ve provided him with the perfect view of your bare sex.

“you know I’m going all out after that torturous foreplay, right?” You give a nod, and hope your body can endure it. That’d be a hell of a way to go out, your corpse being found by your crew mates the next morning with a shattered pelvis and signs of a heart attack from over excitement. But before he enters, you feel his hard cock playfully slide between your asscheeks and down to rub against your folds, causing you to let out a loud moan

Smirking to himself upon hearing your reaction, Rayleigh holds you steady by your waist and slowly presses his way in. He gives a guttural groan at the sensation, while your moan raises in pitch with every inch he buries in you. You push yourself against him, trying to attain more friction. Each inch he puts in adds another layer of pleasure, waves causing you to shudder. Once he is all the way in, he begins with a steady pace and hard thrusts.

Your body shakes with each thrust, your hanging breasts jiggling and swaying as his pelvis claps against your ass. Hands gripping the bedsheets, you try not to get lost in thinking about how deep he’s getting and how full you feel. Pleasure like this had been unimaginable before now, but you don’t want to picture what it would be like if it went away again.

Rayleigh is clearly enjoying himself as well, his grunts and moans soft, but audible enough for you to hear what he says. A curse or an oh god slip out of his mouth every so often, and that turns you on more, quickening your release. Meanwhile, Rayleigh is having an internal struggle of his own, your tight and soaking pussy treating him better than he can recall getting from any other. He wants to enjoy this for as long as he can, but between the mad teasing before and this current euphoria it’s hard to hold the tidal wave back for too much longer.

The two of you continue to rock the bed while the ship rocks in the storm, passion deafening all noise but each other. The wave reaches its crest sooner than you would like but later than you thought with how worked up you were to start with, and Rayleigh hunches over you to keep you close and deep as he finishes. Your orgasmic scream is muffled as he cranes your head back for a deep kiss, and you remain joined at both ends as his pulsing member pumps a hearty load into you.

You sigh, collapsing from exhaustion. Always the gentleman, Rayleigh pulls you up into a comfortable position. “Are you alright?” He questions, a slightly glassy look in his eyes. You gently nod to him and run your hand over his chest with a happy sigh. He pulls the covers over you two, and wraps an arm around your shoulder. What an end to the night.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #rayleigh x reader #silvers rayleigh x reader #I will fix formatting later

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maddiewritesstucky · 4 years ago

Text

Snare Me His Shadow

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit 18+

Words: 4.5k

Tags: Primal Play, Prey/Predator Kink, Fighting As Foreplay, Rough Sex, Biting, Choking, Dom/Sub Undertones, Come Swapping, Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Fucking Outdoors, Storm Sex, Poetry As An Aphrodisiac, R18 Hide And Seek

So a million years ago, @howdoyousleep3 passed on an ask from her inbox that read:

[I dont know if you’re familiar with primal play, but it’s so fucking hot. Yeah, I know, Steve is all muscle and ability, he’s strong he’s fast, he’s smart, he is not prey. Usually. But Bucky - the winter soldier - is a hunter. The best, in fact. He loves a good hunt]

...This one possessed me. Please heed the tags, this is an entirely consensual and agreed-upon game between Steve and Bucky, but it is very much a hunter/prey type situation 😈

It’s electric, like this.

Barefoot on the damp earth, navigating by muscle memory more than sight, because darkness settles that much denser beneath the tree canopy.

Steve could move faster, could take this barely-worn path through the woods behind the compound at a sprint. But fast is loud.

Fast is leaves cracking and branches splintering, and the muted thud of footfalls on the forest floor. It’s eyes fixed only ahead so you don’t stumble, and nothing but the sound of your own exhales in your ears.

‘Fast’ gets you caught.

The in-rolling storm crackles humid in the air, sparking against Steve’s skin as he weaves through the underbrush. He throws his every sense outwards, searching and sifting through those faint currents of movement around him, those quiet signs of life. But it’s all life out here; birds and insects and creatures who can’t bear the light, all just playing the same game he is, and every last one of them pricks at his awareness.

Every last one of them kicks at his pulse and drip-feeds new adrenaline into his bloodstream, because experience echoes a warning way down in his cells - the apex predator comes silent as a spider.

There’s so many eyes on him, the weight of being watched pressing down on him from all sides. He digs the heel of his hand into his arousal and pulls in a lungful of air on the cusp of rain; feels himself splintering between his warring desires to put up a worthy chase, and to drop down belly-up in the dirt.

It’s a choice that will be made for him, eventually.

He might be strength, and speed, and strategy. But out here, he is prey.

Out here, in these weeping woods that stretch endless into the night, Steve is achingly, exquisitely outmatched by the hunter who lies in wait; biding his time, unseen, and slipping ever closer.

Dressed in black from head to toe, or skin bared to the shivering pulses of the forest; empty handed, or palms laden with the urge to grab and pin and possess…

The Winter Soldier is out there, and Steve’s blood runs so much hotter for the knowledge that he won’t see or hear or feel him coming until it’s too late.

He winds his way amongst the weathered trunks, hugging the shadows and pawing at the lines of his own body; stroking his thighs and pulling at his nipples, raking fingernails over the bare skin of his stomach. It’s rough and absent and frantic all at once, a weak precursor to what he’s evading.

The dissonance of it is dizzying, hiding from the thing he wants most. He wants to cry out, to make for the clearing in the middle of the woods and sprawl shameless in the open until he’s found, but he knows the rules - run, hide, don’t make it easy.

Pursuit is the purpose, and capture is a pleasure that must be earned, no matter how raw his skin is screaming for touch. And it is screaming - he’s a copper wire stripped bare, and he shivers for every stinging snap of branch and damp drag of leaf against his body as he picks his way through the darkness.

Hard limits apply, he’d told Bucky, the rest is up to you.

He shudders for it now, those words and the way Bucky’s eyes had darkened for them; the way he’d leaned in to kiss his sugar-laced threat right onto Steve’s waiting lips - I will find you.

It’s only a matter of time. The forest is vast, and countless months have passed since they last played this game, but Bucky is a blade that never dulls.

Bucky is razor-sharp, in wit, beauty, and battle; made up of midnight and silent strides when he so chooses, and he will find Steve.

He might have had eyes on Steve this entire time; ten soundless steps behind, watching Steve’s slow descent into desperation with a smile on his face, and the mere possibility has Steve’s cock weeping through the thin fabric of his shorts.

His fingertips dip beneath his waistband and sweep through the wetness beading at his tip; stroke that sensitive spot just beneath the head. His palm slips to press at the heavy throb in his balls and it makes his breath catch too loud in the confines of his chest, has a moan slipping out past his gritted teeth.

He knows it’s foolish, knows he’s only making himself easier to track. But every step he takes is winding the hunt toward its inevitable climax, and intellect is giving way to instinct.

His consciousness is beginning that steady downward drip, sinking from logic and reason to settle and swim with the dense heat pooling at the base of his spine. Soon, he’ll be nothing more than the urge rippling under his skin, the tight-squeezed air in his lungs and the thrum of blood between his thighs, and every brush of his own hands is permission to slip a little further to it.

So he doesn’t stop.

His feet and his fingers keep moving; his body acting now on his mind’s behalf to draw towards the river's edge, where his desperate sounds will be swept away by the unending rush of water over rock, because this is about preservation now.

It’s about surviving the voracity of his own need until he is found, until Bucky catches him, and then…god, then...

The rest is up to you.

The beginning of rainfall winds its way down through the tree canopy, and it does nothing to quell the heat radiating off Steve. He’s burning so hot for this, so hungry for it; his need only growing sharper as the atmosphere curls in thick and charged with the promise of thunder.

It’s rumbling in the distance already, too faint for non-enhanced ears but creeping closer; a rolling bass beneath the surge of the fast flowing river up ahead. He can see the diluted black of open space through the trees now, can hear the clack of wet-tumbling stones, and it’s nothing short of delusion, the way it feels like he’s headed for sanctuary.

Logic knows it’s a weak veil of auditory cover at best, and an outright plea for ambush at worst.

Steve knows, down in his gut, exactly which one he’s hoping for, and he sprints for it with the last of his tactical thought seeping out through the soles of his feet.

He breaks through the tree line, hitching a gasp as he stumbles out into the full force of the downpour. It’s coming down heavy, sluicing at the fever-sweat clinging to his skin, and he tilts his face up towards it; lets his eyes drift shut and his shoulders drop as he bares his throat to the purple-black sky.

His pulse riots for the sheer abandon of the gesture, of shifting his posture to one of invitation in the midst of evasion. It only spurs him on, makes him want to find out just how shrill that siren in his cells will wail when he refuses to curl in on himself.

He forces his hands open at his sides, turns his palms outwards and walks further out onto the exposed riverbank. He stands ankle deep in the river with his heart in his throat, soaked to the bone and all but shaking with the desire to drop to his knees in submission.

And that’s when he hears it.

The slow-whistled high note, followed by a low; the signal that shivers from the top of Steve’s spine to the cradle of his hips.

Found you.

It’s a question as much as a warning, that signal; a chance for Steve to respond in their shared language of gesture whether he wants the chase, or the fight.

As if he hadn’t made up his mind the moment they agreed to play tonight.

As if he’s not done for either way.

He pulls in a shuddering breath, his skin prickling with the presence he can sense now off to his left. Survival instinct begs him to open his eyes, to scour his surroundings and prepare for what’s coming, but he only shuts them tighter.

He grins up at the pelting rain, curls his quivering right hand into a fist, and beats it against his drenched, heaving chest.

Take me down where I stand.

Thunder rumbles overhead and shakes the stones underfoot. Steve’s blood beats frantic in his ears, one heartbeat stumbling over the next, and he waits, waits for the blow he doesn’t want to see coming.

A foot to the back of his knees, an arm wrapped around his throat, a strike of unyielding metal between his shoulder blades...it’s never the same twice, and it’s always better than the time before, and he can’t stop the desperate whimper that falls from his parted, rain-slick lips.

“Bucky!” he pleads, hurling it into the current of the storm raging around him.

“Steve,” comes the answer from directly behind him; the word falling across his skin in the split second before teeth sink deep into the meat of his shoulder.

It’s nothing short of wanton, the way Steve cries out with it.

Five fingers curl a punishing grip around the column of his throat and a soaking wet body plasters against his back, and Steve doesn’t even try to hold his centre of gravity as he’s wrestled down to the riverbank.

It’s a messy takedown, raw force over skill; dripping all the same desperation that’s been twisting hot in Steve’s gut all night. Bucky pins him belly-down against the stones at the river’s edge, the full weight of his body draped over him, and Steve knows the tremor he can feel humming through Bucky’s muscles has nothing to do with the cold.

“The river,” Bucky growls; metal forearm jammed against the back of Steve's neck, “of course you came to the river.”

Steve squirms giddy beneath Bucky’s mass, beneath that deep-thrumming power crushing down on him.

The storm-swollen current reaches up the bank to wash shallow and frigid beneath Steve’s cheek, his chest; against his nipples and his thighs and his cock inside his drenched shorts. It’s cold enough to draw gooseflesh across the bared expanse of his skin, but fuck if that persistent rush doesn’t feel like getting tongued; like every single time Bucky’s ever slipped an ice cube in his mouth and sucked him off just to see him hit the ceiling.

“Buck...”

It’s the only word that makes sense anymore. Steve gets his elbows under himself and pushes his body up, but only so much as to feel the stifling weight of Bucky on top of him.

Bucky’s hand slips to the front of his throat and grips him tight up under the line of his jaw; tips his head back to get his lips and teeth pressed hard against Steve’s ear.

“Steven...did you even try?”

The rain and the river aren’t enough to sweep away the mockery in his tone. He’s shifting himself on top of Steve, putting scant inches of space between their bodies, and Steve knows this cue; grins bright and breathless for it.

He digs his hands in against the riverbed, plants his knees and shoves upwards. He heaves his weight forward and Bucky’s grip loosens just enough to let it happen, to let Steve crawl and clamber a few meager feet forwards.

Steve knows it’s a false freedom but he laughs half-hysterical for it anyway, and even more so when Bucky’s hands are catching him again, clamping bruising tight at his hips and grappling him onto the flat of his back.

He winces at the battering strike of rain against his face, but it’s just as soon blocked by the cover of Bucky caging him in; replaced by the tepid drips rolling off Bucky’s perpetually warm skin.

Steve’s body reacts the way it thinks it’s supposed to, going through the motions of trying to throw Bucky off - strength funneled into a forearm arm pressing here, a knee striking there. But it’s pointless; sabotaged by the underlying truth that the only place Steve really wants to be is stuck exactly where he finds himself - pinned pliant beneath his predator.

He lets himself look, then; lets his gaze slip down between them to drag over the length of Bucky’s body. He’s bared to the elements just the same as Steve - not a stitch on him save for running shorts that barely hit at mid-thigh. His hair is pulled back, and he’s soaked to the bone, and when lightning splits the darkness in two and catches on the angles of his face, that raw perilous beauty strikes a blow all of its own to the center of Steve’s chest.

“You win,” Steve rasps, dragging his voice up from the pit of his billowing lungs.

Bucky’s answering laugh is darker than the wet-ink midnight pressing in on them, and it shudders all the way to Steve’s bones when Bucky sinks down to purr ominous against the vulnerable stretch of his neck.

“Not yet, I haven’t.”

The ravenous clamp of teeth on his throat sends Steve’s body bowing, writhing for that merciless bite that doesn’t break the skin, but makes purpled ruin of what lies beneath. Fascia and blood vessels and Steve’s sanity, all broken down in the transcendent grind of Bucky’s jaw, the heat of his mouth; all over Steve’s neck and his chest and his belly, and it’s so feral, the way Steve wants it.

He wants the shred of busted stitching and the shock of rain against newly bared skin as his shorts are torn from his body.

He wants the red welts raked down his rib cage, the kiss-split lip and the deep set imprints of Bucky’s teeth all up the insides of his thighs.

Bucky’s touch is heavy and he means it to be; his shifting, squeezing grip claiming handfuls of Steve’s willing flesh wherever he can get it. And he can get it everywhere - every last inch of Steve’s body splayed out for him in tribute to his prowess, and Steve wants him to take it.

He wants Bucky to make sacrilege of it out here under the split-open skies, until it feels like heaven itself is sobbing for it.

“Fuck me,” ruin me, desecrate me, arch-backed and bleeding-lipped in the dirt, “Bucky, fuck me…”

Steve begs with all of himself, legs split and arms thrown above his head; dripping sweat and storm and half-crazed surrender. Like he actually has to plead for this, like Bucky’s not already stuffing searching fingers up between his cheeks to grope for the base-end of silicone that says Steve’s body is primed for the taking.

Bucky bites taunting denial into his skin, over and over. ‘No,’ even as he pulls the plug from Steve’s body and replaces it with his fingers. ‘No’ growled against Steve’s body every time he begs now, and please, and I’m ready, just to fray that tenuous thread of Steve’s resolve.

Steve’s delirious with it, crying out high and sharp for the stretch of cold metal inside him and the drip of remnant lube. He chants Bucky’s name and reaches out with clinging, clawing hands that only get batted away; that get caught at the wrists and pinned down, and Bucky’s laughing at him.

Bucky is toying with him, leaving him empty and climbing back up over his body to graze teeth over Steve’s cheekbones, to whisper sweet mockery against Steve’s lips before he kisses them bruising-hard.

“Tell me you want it,” Bucky coos, clamping his hand over Steve’s mouth and pushing the clothed head of his cock up against Steve’s hole.

Steve sobs against his palm. He forces the words out wet and incomprehensible onto Bucky’s skin; again and again as Bucky tuts and tells him to speak the fuck up.

Tears are streaming free from the corners of his eyes and his legs are hooking desperately around Bucky’s waist, and he knows that Bucky wants this just as bad. He can feel Bucky shaking and shuddering under the strain of holding back and holding out, trying to push Steve closer to his breaking point just because that’s what Steve wants; devotion at its most deranged.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Bucky laps at the tears tracking down Steve’s face, letting up his hand from Steve’s mouth only to settle it heavy on his throat.

He slips his other hand down between them to shove at his shorts, fighting the clinging fabric down far enough to get his cock free, and then they’re both groaning for the rub of naked skin on skin.

“Buck,” Steve chokes out a half-strangled cry as Bucky sinks his whole weight onto him, dragging his stomach over Steve’s weeping cock and rocking his own into the crease of Steve’s hip.

“Tell me you want it?” Bucky says again, a question this time instead of a taunt.

Steve’s rasp of yes, fuck, do it barely makes it past his lips before Bucky’s cock is pushing into him.

There’s no hesitance, no pretense of patience to it. Bucky doesn’t finesse it and Steve doesn’t want him to - he didn’t spend half the night skulking through the woods in the middle of a fucking thunderstorm just to get taken the way he would be in the sanctity of their bed.

Steve came out here to get fucked vicious, and Bucky knows better than to pull his punches.

He shoves brutal and punishing into the tight heat of Steve’s body, knocking the air from Steve’s lungs and the sense from his psyche.

He’s tucking words up against Steve’s ear, something lilting and familiar, and the roar of Steve’s own blood and the groaning sky above don’t drown out Bucky’s voice so much as darken it’s edges; slip a rumbling bass beneath it’s baritone. Steve loses himself in the well-worn rhythm long before the words catch up to sink hooks into his ribcage.

“O Hunter, snare me his shadow,” Bucky hums, “O Nightingale, catch me his strain…else moonstruck with music and madness...I track him in vain.”

Steve would weep, if he had it in him to do anything other than lay there flat on his back and take it.

Bucky grinds in blinding-deep and stays there, rocks there; drips poetry all over the side of Steve’s neck like he’s not fucking him fit to kill.

He squeezes Steve’s throat until his eyes roll back, swats at Steve’s cheek and pulls merciless on his hair. He stuffs fingers into Steve’s gaping mouth deep enough to gag on, and hinges Steve’s jaw open so he has no choice but to set loose every raw, wrecked sound Bucky knocks out of him.

It’s fucking flawless.

“Give me one,” Bucky growls.

Steve needs no clarification beyond the spearing of Bucky’s cock into his prostate, and he reaches down between their bodies to jerk himself frantic and heavy-handed.

It should be pitiful, how little it takes. But it’s been mounting for what feels like hours, and when Bucky wrenches himself abruptly from Steve’s body to slap a hand down square over Steve’s balls and his slick, aching asshole, that orgasm crests with near-painful force.

“Fuck!” Steve’s wracked with it, shuddering and flinching from it like it’s not the makings of his very own flesh and blood.

Bucky doesn’t even wait for it to be over before he’s dipping down to lap at it; rubbing his cheek and his chest and his belly through Steve’s release on his slow crawl back up to spit it into Steve’s mouth.

“Don’t you fuckin’ swallow it,” he warns, pressing his thumb to the seam of Steve’s lips, “I want it back.”

Steve’s body is sparking chaotic, crying too soon and too much just as loud as it’s screaming too good as Bucky grips him by his sodden hair and buries his cock back inside him; falling into rhythm like he never stopped thrusting in the first place.

He wants to moan, wants to cry out for that welcome knifepoint of forced pleasure building within him, but the desperate sounds creeping onto his tongue are every bit as caged as the come he can’t swallow.

Which is the whole point, Steve flushes submissive to realize - Bucky’s got him gagged without even touching him.

He twines his limbs up around Bucky’s body, groping and pulling at him like there’s still an insufferable distance left to close. The guttural moans Bucky’s spilling into the crook of his neck only render Steve’s own noises even more pathetic; huffing high and reedy the longer they remain trapped in his throat.

“Christ, listen to you...”

Bucky pushes up onto his elbows to stare down at Steve, to watch the play of desperation on his face.

He’s no less transparent himself in how affected he is, a lifetime of ceaseless want spelled out in his gaze; hunger and rapture and the kind of adoration Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever fully earn, not really.

But it’s all right there, in the way Bucky’s looking at him; the way he’s bearing the howling force of the storm against his back just to give Steve this, and Steve is sunk.

Steve is nothing more than the sweet ruin of his body and the near painful swell of his heart for the multitudes that Bucky contains. A death sentence if you ask the history books and still the better half of Steve’s soul, Bucky is the boundless shadow and blinding light of Steve’s entire existence; his every reason for being and doing and fucking trying, after all these years.

It would be terrifying, if Steve weren’t bone-deep certain that he’s the axis Bucky’s world spins on, too.

“You found me...”

The words are almost a sob hitching off Steve’s tongue, pitched fuck-drunk and slurred around his mouthful of himself.

He’s breaking the rules and he knows it; half hopes for the crack of an open palm against his cheek for it. But the look Bucky hits him with lands harder than any physical strike could hope to; taking Steve’s face firm between his hands and staring down at him like there’s never been a truth so vital, so dire.

“I will always find you, Steve.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? The one thing their shared existence will always narrow down to. There’s nowhere either of them could go that the other wouldn’t tear the world apart to get to, and the scant inches of distance between them right now might as well be oceans for all Steve’s burning inside to cross them.

He cups his hands around Bucky’s neck and arches up, pulls him down; pleading with everything but words for Bucky’s mouth on his, and Bucky doesn’t make him wait. He meets Steve right there in the delirium with lips and tongue and moans that rival the swelling thunder; sucking the taste of Steve off his tongue and dripping a starved groan into his mouth in its place.

“I wanna make you come,” he says, like he hasn’t already dragged one out of him, “tell me you’re gonna come.”

“Fuck, I am, I’m gonna come...”

“Say it’s for me, Steve, tell me it’s mine.”

Steve nods so hard, he can feel a bruise bloom at the base of his skull where it grates against the riverstone. Of course it’s for Bucky, everything’s for Bucky; every breath in his lungs and every beat of his stricken, obsessed heart. The sensations within him are mounting too immense, too desperate to be named pleasure, but they’re careening all the same towards the one thing Bucky wants from him, and it will only ever be Bucky’s, this perfect agony of coming undone.

“It’s yours,” he sobs, voice weak and body shaking. "Just—fuckin’ take it from me, Buck.”

He gives up all conscious hold on himself; submits entirely to the relentless drag of Bucky’s dick against his insides and the wet rasp of rock against his back as Bucky drives deep into his surrendered body, chasing that climax for the both of them.

It burns so bright, when it hits Steve; wrenched from his core and rolling sharp through the splay of his trembling frame. He cries out with it, but the storm cries louder, Bucky cries louder; moving ceaselessly through the spasms of Steve’s orgasm and drowning in the give of Steve’s body beneath him.

“Fuck, Steve, I—”

“Do it,” Steve slurs, needing nothing more than the tell-tale shudder of Bucky’s body and the way he gasps Steve’s name like a warning. “In me, Buck. Do it.”

Bucky cusses sharp, pulsing his hips as he lets go inside Steve like he can bury that seed deep enough to stick. And fuck, Steve wants it to. It’s all raw nerve on the inside but Steve never wants this to end; possessed by the slick grind of Bucky’s twitching cock and the heaving half-moans of Bucky’s breath.

“Don’t stop,” he pleads, reaching fingertips down to where their bodies are joined, where Bucky’s stuffed into him and leaking out of him. “Keep fucking me, just—just keep—”

Keep coming.

Be that monstrous entity in the woods who fucks me like it’s a haunting, ’til not even an exorcism would rid me of you.

He prods at the stretch of his swollen rim, drags his fingers through the warmth seeping out around Bucky’s cock. He wants it everywhere; brings those slick fingers up to smear over the pulse point on his neck, down the line of his throat, and Bucky heaves a moan dragged right from the marrow of his bones.

“I won’t stop,” he grits out through clattering teeth, rocking into Steve graceless and starving. “Not gonna stop, Steve.”

It sounds as much like threat as it does promise.

They’re both quaking with it, overstimulated and frigid cold and too achingly, crushingly lost in each other. For all the serum may have made them both to defy science and probability, to withstand war and stall the ravages of aging, it still couldn’t create a vessel vast enough to contain this - this raw, insatiable need for one another.

“Bucky…”

Steve looks up from the flat of his back; tips his head to offer up the stretch of his throat as he offers up a tremulous verse — a challenge — into the space between them.

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep...”

Recognition sparks dark and joyous in Bucky’s gaze. He catches Steve’s hands in his and threads their fingers together, palm against palm in a too-tight grip.

“But I have promises to keep,” he grins, “and miles to go before I sleep…”

His lips are turning up wolfish; the roll of his hips turning to something liquid and long-haul, and the rain beats down just as violent as it ever did.

Steve lets his eyes slip closed, lets the final refrain slip from his tongue before he surrenders, smiling, to the slow closing of Bucky’s teeth around his windpipe.

“...And miles to go before I sleep.”

If you’re at all curious, the poems they quote are ‘In The Forest’ by Oscar Wilde, and ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost 😘

#steve/bucky #stucky #stucky fanfic #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes

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chasingpj · 4 years ago

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

“Don’t be snarky with me, little girl.”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 12,757

warnings: same old brujeria, mentions of potential death, uh, I think that's it

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story, click here

a/n: hi hi! this chapter was way overdue! I decided to just post it now because if i continue to edit this, you guys won't get it until the weekend. i hope you guys like it and that the length makes up for the month-long hiatus!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as you jolt up into a seated position. Your eyes scan your surroundings as they adjust to the darkness. Echoes of water dripping in the distance fill in the stillness of the giant cavern ahead of you. You notice the high ceilings and the wall behind you, giving you the only option but to go forward. Gravel digs into your palms as you move to stand, stumbling as your weak legs find the strength to hold you up.

"What? How-?"

"Hello.” A gravelly voice calls with the appearance of a tall, thin figure near the many curved entrances around you. Your pulse thumps loud in your ears, your senses heightening with your adrenaline. What was in front of you vaguely reminded you of Jack Skellington, a black suit and all but with features that attempted to appear human but are uncanny. Its face is long and slim with wide beady bulging eyes. A smile, where the ends of its mouth hike up too high on its cheek, is plastered, quite literally across its face. As its head tilts to the side with a creaky motion, you don’t notice your mouth hanging open, unable to find the words.

This could be no one else but Insammon. Perhaps, his description in the spellbook was empty because he was too creepy to draw, or you consider that no one made it out alive to be able to.

“Why, don’t look so surprised.”

You tense up at the sound of its voice, vaguely masculine, but its gruffness leaves no room for warmth, sends a spike of chills up your spine, and you force yourself to look away from him.

“I just wanted to talk. Perhaps, we can strike a deal.”

You furrow your eyebrows, a deal? A pit in your stomach forms, having a bad feeling about this. Whatever this deal was, you were well aware that you won’t have much say in it. You open your mouth to ask what he wanted, but you’re interrupted.

“You’re probably wondering what I want from you.” The wicked, wide grin remains on his face as if it was stuck while he begins to pace back and forth from the ends of the entrance. “I will be straightforward with you since I’m quite eager to get what I want. Would you like to know what that is?”

You gawk, too distracted at the clunky way he walks to say anything. With a slow nod of your head, he halts, arms crossed over his chest, and he stands taller than before. “I want you to make me a vessel.” Your face scrunches in confusion; your mind too overwhelmed at the situation at hand. “Like a ship?” You ask, that being the first thing that came to mind. Why the hades does he need a ship?

“No, you imbecile!” He hisses, and you jump, his loud voice bouncing off the stone walls and through the empty hallways. “A body! A suit to host my spirit. I’m sick of hiding in the shadows,” he scoffs, shaking his head as his eyes look miles away. “It’s boring.” The sudden softening of his tone took you aback. Was this demon pouting? You didn’t think you’d ever see that. “Boring?” You ask cautiously, his wide grin flipped into a long frown. “Yes, boring! It makes my attack strategy so… limited!” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, which looked more like googly eyes, one eye turning in the opposite direction of the other. “I want slow-burn torture. I want to be perceived as a human, gaining the trust of you naive creatures before I attack,” he sighs, with a dreamy expression on his face.

You shake your head, his suggestion absurd. “I’m not making you a body. I-I’ve never done that before.” “Oh, but you can,” he says confidently, and he steps closer in your direction, your legs instinctively stepping back to maintain the distance. “And you will.” He declares, his eyebrow bone raising, seemingly amused at your retreat.

“You see, you and your siblings weakened me for days after casting that pathetic protection spell. And then you put those awful little sigils all over the place. I couldn’t get in anywhere! I had to stay in that forest and recollect my powers,” he proclaims like a damsel in distress. “You’re more than powerful enough to make me that body, and if you refuse, I will simply take over yours.” “But-” “Though I do prefer more of a masculine appearance,” he sighs, eyes returning to bore into yours. “I could take over your brother’s body, that is, if he survives my presence.” “What do you mean if he survives?” You ask, your heart sinking to your chest. The last thing you wanted was Atticus in trouble. If he were in this situation, you’d be freaking out for sure. You were much too protective of him, and though this situation sucks, you’d rather it be you than him. “If he survives like you are right now,” he clarifies, his eyes looking you up and down with suspicion. “It’s quite impressive. I didn’t expect your fragile human body to be able to host me, but I figured it was worth a shot if I can get what I want.” The crease between your eyebrows deepens as he continues to speak. You consider that you could have easily died if he had overtaken you, but why hadn’t you? You shake your head, pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind. You had more things to worry about right now.

“For something you deem as fragile, you seem quite determined to receive it,” you say through a clenched jaw, trying to remain unphased as he leans forward, his upper body extending like taffy. He halts once his face is inches away from yours, giving you no choice but to look into his bulging eyes as they study you.

He was trying to scare you so that the emotion could fuel his strength. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of scaring you, maintain your emotionless face but the pounding pulse from your neck gave you away.

“Don’t be snarky with me, little girl. Agree to make me a vessel, or I stay in yours. I’m willing to give up a masculine appearance if I can keep your sturdy body.” You take a deep breath, your eyes faltering away from his face as you turn to look to the side. From this close, you notice his ghastly pale skin is like leather pulled tight over the structure of his features and how his grin reveals an empty mouth. “I-” you open your mouth, but you close it. You didn’t want to give in, but what choice did you have? To overpower something like this on your own would be impossible. Besides, it’ll be even more work for Lou and Atticus. You knew if he officially took over your body, you may not survive the process of them casting him out.

Anyway, it was just a body…

You wipe your fidgeting hands on your shorts, your thoughts jumping around, trying to find a way out of this. One-half of you didn’t want to agree. How could you aid an entity like this to allow him to wreak more havoc on his victims? And then another part of you figured it wouldn’t matter to you because if you give in, he’ll leave the camp. “It’s just a body,” Insammon whispers, fueling one side of the argument. He circles you, a bitter cold nipping at your skin as he remains close. Your arms wrap around your frame, and you swallow hard. “Fine,” you utter through a clenched jaw.

“Good choice-” “BUT,” you shout, your posture straightening as you find the courage to face him. If he wants it so bad, perhaps, you could get more out of this deal than him not possessing you. “Only on the promise that you will leave camp and never bother me, my family, or any half-blood ever again.”

A chuckle leaves his lips, standing up tall as if he was mimicking you. “Whatever,” he waves his hand as he begins to pace in front of you. “After I’m human, my pool of people to torture will broaden. I’ll take your silly terms.” “Swear on the River Styx.” “Oh. I guess you’re not as dense as I thought you were. The little girl knows how to make a deal,” he mocks, throwing his head back as he lets out a laugh, the sound so fabricated to sound human to the point where it sounded robotic.

“Swear on it.” Your fist clenches on your side, annoyed at his mocking. “You have to swear to make my body first.” “I have more to lose if I don’t make you the body, so you should go first,” you remark.

The way he lowers his glare and how his eyes manically brighten told you that he was well aware of the dilemma he has put you in. “Fair enough.” He clears his throat. “I swear on the River Styx that I will leave you, your family, and any half-blood at this camp,” he whines obnoxiously in an attempt to mimic your voice, his hands thrown upon his side dramatically. “if you make me my body,” he adds quickly in his normal tone. “Your turn.”

You weren’t sure where the exit to the outside was, but you were still able to hear a roaring of thunder, binding him to his words officially. You swallow hard, a bunch of worries filling your head. You’ve never sworn on the River Styx before. What if you weren’t powerful enough to do the spell? Will you be punished for your lack of ability to fulfill the promise?

Insammon waits for you to speak your promise, his hands making a motion as if to hurry up.

“I swear on the River Styx that I will make you a body,” you mutter, cringing as the thunder rolls again. Now, failing to keep your promise is not an option for you anymore. You may be motivated by false confidence, but you decide that you can and will do the spell. You have to. Faintly, the distant chanting of Atticus and Lou Ellen rings in your head, and you groan, simultaneously crouching forward as Insammon growls.

“That stupid spell,” he snarls, his long fingers rolling into a fist. You blink erratically, your vision suddenly going blurry and your head becoming too heavy on your shoulder. As he approaches you slowly, you whimper, dropping to your hands and knees as the world feels like it's spinning

“When I leave your body, you stop them. Do you understand? If you don’t, I will repossess you,” he articulates carefully, and you can only lift your head just enough to see the fronts of his dress shoes.

The ringing drowned out his voice in your ears, and you felt nauseous as the pressure in your head felt like someone was squeezing your skull.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” You whine, startled at the booming of his voice that sounds over the ringing in your ears with ease. “Yes,” you whisper, your arms giving out on you, and you lay on your back, eyes straight up at the blurry cave ceiling before Insammon hovers over you. The haze of your surroundings turns white, casting a halo around his face and he gives you one last empty mouthed grin. “Good. Now brace yourself, little girl. This is going to hurt.” A cackle leaves his lips before the white overtakes his face, and the ringing in your ears grows incredibly loud.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

Percy watches Atticus and Lou Ellen draw a pentagram in the middle of the cabin with salt. Their movements are hasty, words sparse as they eagerly prepare the spell to get this thing out of you. He bites on the skin of his bottom lip; the longer you remain unconscious, the tenser he and your siblings become. Percy had asked if he could help with anything, but Lou and Atticus shook their heads and insisted that he remained at your side, which didn’t make him feel partially useful. But he complied, considering it was best to stay out of the way, and though they didn’t ask him to, his shaky fingers rested gently on the side of your wrist, making sure that your pulse continued to thump against his fingertips.

A grumble from Ambrose catches his attention, and he finds himself looking back at your face. You hadn’t moved at all in the last hour or so, and you started to pale; your shallow breaths and faint pulse are the only sign of life you gave off.

“Okay, we’re ready,” Atticus gulps as he holds a spellbook open in his hand. Lou Ellen exchanges a look with Atticus, the two nodding at each other before she looks over at Percy,

“You should probably stand with us. I don’t know what its choice of departure will be.”

Percy furrowed his eyebrows, unsure what that meant, but he figured he’d find out regardless. He nods, focusing on your pulse one last time. Though shallow, your pulse remained steady. He was no doctor, but he considered that a good sign. After establishing that you were still alive, he stands up, stepping over your body and walking over to Lou and Atticus, who quickly move to stand in front of him.

“Ready?” Atticus croaks with a shaky voice, his eyes glancing over the words of the spell as Lou Ellen stands tall and nods, “Ready.”

It was quiet for a moment, Percy shifting on his feet as Atticus raised one finger at a time until he reached his third. After a deep breath, they chanted, “Exorcizamus te, immundus spiritus, malignus potestas, incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…”

As they got through the first stanza of the spell, Percy could hear the gradual loss of confidence in both Lou Ellen and Atticus’s voices. He could tell from the way her violet aura and Atticus’s blue one had flickered as it shrunk into their bodies.

He wasn’t sure how an actual exorcism worked, but if it was like the movies, he was bracing himself for some floating, a scary voice that isn’t yours to come from your mouth, and some thrashing. But none of that happened as your siblings recited the spell further; you just remained still.

Dread fills Percy’s core, and he frowns, “Come on, y/n,” he mutters to himself, eyes searching for some movement before he found it.

Your eyes flung open, wide and alert, and with a sharp gasp, your back arched as the black vapor escaped from where it had penetrated you in the chest like a thick control stream of smoke. Percy winces as a strained cry of agony leaves your lips, your eyes watering as they’re fixed right at the ceiling.

Atticus’s voice becomes strained, hand flying up to clutch his chest as his heart feels like it’s being wrung out like a towel. The pain is so intense that he can’t even imagine how much you feel, but he persists, keeping his focus on the spell.

Soon, the vapor finally leaves your body, forming the familiar figure in the corner of the room.

You sob, the burning in the chest so potent that your vision still blurred white. You turn to your side, barely able to lift your head from Ambrose's body, let alone your body.

“Stop,” you command weakly, your tears dripping on the floor as you attempt to lift your upper body. The chanting of Atticus and Lou drowns out your voice, the two more focused on casting Insammon away.

Your eyes meet Percy’s as he peers over Lou Ellen’s shoulder to look at you. He couldn’t hear what came out of your mouth, but he could tell you needed to stay something. “Guys,” he calls softly, afraid to interrupt them as the look on your face grows more panicked. He wasn’t sure if they had heard him, but if they did, they didn’t pay any mind.

You needed to get them to stop, Insammon growling even louder, and you try not to sob at the idea of doing this possession thing again. Your pulse thumped erratically in your ears, and you let out a weak breath, gathering the last bit of energy you had left. “STOP!”

Your voice bellowed louder than you had expected, effectively silencing your siblings. You had to blink a few times before you were able to stop seeing six instead of three.

“What do you mean stop?” Atticus snaps, eyebrows furrowed in confusion along with Lou. Your eyes flicker to Insammon standing in the corner of the room before returning to your siblings and Percy. “We…” your shaky arm manages to pull yourself up despite the world still fuzzy around you. “we’ve made a deal,” you croak, moving to stand up from the floor a little too fast.

As you stumble onto your feet, still pale and disoriented, Percy rushes over and grabs your arm, catching you before you tipped over. You groan as you lean your side against him, your eyes closing in hopes that when you open them, everything will be back to normal. “What?” Lou Ellen asks, quickly pulling the chair away from Percy’s desk and placing it behind your knees before you plop down into it. “What deal?” Atticus urges, refusing to sit even though his legs felt weak. You take a second to compose yourself, trying to figure out how you can explain it to them without sounding insane. Just by looking at Lou Ellen’s eager expression, you were expecting her to protest.

“He took my subconscious somewhere, and we spoke…” you say cautiously, focusing on your fiddling hands. “And?”

“He said he’d leave us alone on the agreement that I…” your voice falters, “on the agreement that I build him a body.” “WHAT?” You jump as Atticus and Lou Ellen shout at the same time. “Are you insane?” You just might be.

You snap your gaze, eyes switching between Lou and Atticus. “I had no choice! If I disagreed, he was just going to stay in mine, and… and you know what the chances of surviving an exorcism are,” you point out. Lou Ellen and Atticus freeze, their faces darkening as they run the situation at hand through their heads. Insammon hisses in the corner as if he was laughing, and you roll your eyes, glaring at him, “I’m glad you find this funny.”

“We’ve never made a body before, Y/n and… how are we going to hide that?!” Atticus points over to the amused shadow in the corner, and you frown, noticing his messy hair from running his fingers through it so much as he looks at you with wide eyes, filled with concern. “He’ll lay low in the meantime. He can’t get into any of the cabins because of the sigils. We’ll cleanse Perce’s cabin and put up the sigils on his door, so he’ll have nowhere to go but the forest,” you explain. A knot formed in your throat, neither of them looking convinced.

“In Alabaster’s black magic book, there’s a spell to make a body out of wax…” you turn around, grabbing the book from the desk. Your fingers hastily flip through your pages before landing on the instructions of the spell. You lift it, opening it wide in their direction so that they can see it for themselves. “With all of our powers together, we can do it.” Lou Ellen furrows her eyebrows, her eyes scanning over the Latin quickly. You were sure you had her convinced before she pulls away, tsking softly. “We need a body of water to host it.”

You bite your lip, turning the book to read it for yourself. “We…” your voice falters. Schist. You didn’t think that far. Where are you even going to host the body? It's not like you can grow it in the lake.

After some silence, you grow nervous under the expectant stares of your siblings, your leg bouncing as you rack your mind for possibilities. Maybe you could host it in a tub in the forest. No, that would take too long, and not only would you need the help of a Hephaestus camper, but a monster might also destroy it, or even worse, the nymphs might see it. Too many people involved. In the showers? No. Obviously not.

“The bathtub in the big house,” Percy blurts out, and you snap your gaze over to him. “That… that could work,” your face brightens, feeling a little relieved. Your excitement falters as you glance at Lou Ellen and Atticus’s knitted eyebrows and frowns. Even a groan comes from Ambrose, making you feel even more discouraged. Even your familiar is having doubts. Great.

“That could not work! It’s right in the big house! One person uses that bathroom, and we’re dead!” Lou argues, and you throw your head back and groan. You didn’t think it would be this complicated. “No one uses the bathroom upstairs,” Percy mentions, and you shift, perking up again. At least Percy seemed to be on your side. “Exactly! Everyone only uses the bathroom downstairs. Chiron doesn’t sleep in the big house, and he’s definitely not using the bathroom there, and Mr. D doesn’t use the bathroom at all. He’s a god!” “It’s in plain sight,” Atticus emphasizes, and your shoulders hunch forward, looking for a solution.

“Lou can use the mist,” you propose after some time, half expecting another argument, but as Lou Ellen halts with a half-opened mouth, you know you’ve succeeded. She shifts on her feet, looking down at the floor. “You’ve been practicing, right?” You ask though you already know the answer. She’s been reading about the mist and practicing since the beginning of the summer. Alabaster was teaching her how to hide items, starting small and gradually building her way up. The other day, as a prank to cheer you up, she hid all of Connor’s shoes, sending him into a frantic search for his shoes all morning. It was hilarious watching Connor accusing all of his siblings of taking his sneakers, resulting in them bickering back and forth about how they didn’t have his shoes. All this arguing and almost tearing half of the cabin apart looking for his shoes, just for Lou Ellen to make them reappear as if they were never tampered with. “Yeah, I mean, I can try?” Lou looks down at her feet, her tone unconfident, but you nod, having fate that she’d be able to do it. “Great!” You hop up on your feet, a little too fast for your weakened state. Atticus gives you a disapproving look, holding your arm to keep you standing. You look around at their nervous faces, but you don’t let that discourage you.

Behind Atticus, you notice the yellow hue of the sunrise beginning to seep through Percy’s blue curtains. “Lou, you have to sneak back into the cabin before anyone wakes up. Atticus and I will cleanse Percy’s cabin and put sigils on the doors. We’ll make sure he-” you point over at the expecting figure in the corner, listening attentively to your conversation. “goes into the forest. At breakfast, we’ll tell Chiron we succeeded. We can sneak into the big house after lunch. After doing the spell, Lou Ellen will use the mist to hide the body, and… everything should go smoothly,” you declare, chin high with confidence.

You give them a wide smile, satisfied even if Percy is the only one to return the smile, though it was hesitant and weak. Lou and Atticus exchange a look before Lou scoffs and shakes her head, “This is insane,” she grumbles, and you refrain from frowning. You don’t say anything, helping them gather their materials before Lou Ellen leaves. As you cleanse the cabin while Atticus carves the sigils on the doorframe outside, you look over at Percy sweeping up the salt from the floor. Your eyes unexpectedly meet his as he averts his gaze from the floor, and he frowns, “You really think everything is gonna work out?” He asks the question genuinely. He didn’t know all the ins and outs of what you had to do, and he decides that your opinion is worth more than everything he’s learned from just observing. You bite the inside of your cheek. Things should go as planned. At this point, you weren’t even worried if you three were powerful enough to cast a spell that will hold. It was getting caught that you were the most nervous about.

“Yeah, I think everything will be fine,” you smile softly, concealing the anxiety that’s festering in your core.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The bathroom floor tile is cool under your bare thighs, contrasting the wax that is almost too warm in your hands as you carefully sculpt the figure. The upstairs bathroom of the big house is tidy and untouched, though a little dusty, which proved Percy’s claim of the bathroom being vacant.

“Broad shoulders and tall, he demanded of me,” you roll your eyes, making Atticus and Lou snicker under their breaths.

“Is he serious?” Lou asks as she kneels next to the bathtub, throwing the necessary herbs for the spell into the water. “Yeah, completely serious. He has a list of preferences, as you can see,” you point at the piece of paper laid in front of you filled with the features that he desired to have. “Tall, broad, and blonde,” you recite. “Is Johnny Bravo his inspiration?” Atticus jokes, and you giggle, shaking your head. “I don’t know, but I might make his body proportions the same," you play along, making the two of them laugh as you continue to form his legs.

“Did he ask for a…” Atticus trails off, and you look up, knowing what he had hesitated to say, and you cringe, “Ew. He didn’t, but even if he did, I’m not sculpting that.” The sounds of Lou Ellen and Atticus’ laughter make you crack a smile. It was nice that you guys can joke, easily looking past the mutual anxiety you guys held for the situation. “So he’s going to be flat like a barbie?” Lou sits on the edge of the bath, and you press your lips together and nod, “Yup.”

Atticus snorts, shaking his head as he lays out the spell books in front of you, and you pull away from the wax sculpture you’ve been working on for almost an hour now. You nod, eyes scanning to make sure you didn’t leave out the essentials. Eyes, mouth, ears, and nose? Check. Eyebrows? Check. Two arms and legs and 20 fingers in total? Check. You furrow your eyebrows and hum, “Should I give him… nipples? A belly button?” “Might as well if you aren’t giving him a, you know,” Atticus says as he flips through the book in front of him, and you giggle as Lou cringes. “Might as well,” you agree, grabbing more wax and your sculpting tools to do the last finishing touches. You sigh, your eyes scanning over it one last time before deciding you were satisfied with it, and you hope he’ll be satisfied too. You agreed to make him a body; you never said it would be a perfect one. “Okay, let’s get this thing started. The game could end any minute now."

You get up on your feet, looking over at the window on your left. You peeked through the blinds, double-checking that the camp courtyard was still empty to confirm that everyone was still in the forest playing capture the flag.

You were worried that you wouldn't be excused from the game since you've had a lot of passes this summer, but all it took was a short complaint about being tired from staying up all night and over-exhausting your powers, and you were excused. It wasn’t a complete lie, though. You were still queasy from Insammon leaving your body, and Atticus was still recovering from feeling it as well. Lou Ellen just escaped from the game to join you guys. The Hermes cabin was playing on the same side as the Ares cabin, so it’s not like she was given an important role anyway. They wouldn’t even notice she had left.

You pull away from the window, walking over to the tub, and gently placing the wax figure in the water. The three of you grab each other’s hands, exchanging looks before chanting the spell.

I invoke the power of the elements

I beg, accept our sediment

Air, Fire, Water, Earth

Bring us a great storm of mirth

Our origins; the pillars of vitality

Conjure a suit of mortality

Gift me a figure as alive as the land and sea

So mote it be

Your auras mingle around your intertwined hands, yours and Atticus’s making a cyan color as yours forms a dark brown with Lou Ellen’s. Closing your eyes, the three of you set your intentions on the spell as you chant it in unison three times. You feel that familiar tug in your gut as you channel your energy while repeating it one last time. You open your eyes the same time as Lou and Atticus, and the three of you gawk at the murky crimson of the water that was once clear. “Its blood,” you shift, letting go of their hands. “... at least we know it worked?” Atticus nods slowly, too enthralled at the water to look away. “I think it caught well,” Lou says, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jean shorts. “Everything should thicken and come together in a week, right?”

You nod, “It said it could be earlier if the spell caught on well. We might get lucky and get this over with by the weekend.” You sigh softly, hoping that you guys will get lucky this time. The burden of this promise was starting to weigh heavy on your shoulders.

The shouting of victory from campers as they return to their cabins catches your attention, and you curse under your breath. “Let’s clean up, hide this thing with the mist and go before we get caught,” you instruct, already reaching to collect your materials.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Do you think we should stay?”

Your eyes flutter open, your hand coming up to shield them from the bright sun hovering overhead. A sigh leaves your lips, turning your head toward Atticus, who’s laid beside you on the sand, and you notice his hopeful expression begins to falter. Last summer, he had mentioned staying all year round, but the both of you had decided otherwise.

“After everything that’s happened this summer. I just want to go home,” you admit, and Atticus frowns, considering your point. This summer was way too eventful for you, and you had found yourself missing your neighborhood and the comfort of your home and your father. The communal showers and sleeping arrangements were things you couldn’t see yourself deal with any longer than you had to.

“Yeah…” Atticus sighs, and you scan his face, feeling the disappointment radiating off of him. You mimic his sad facial expression, reaching over to push his hair out of his eyes. As much as Atticus wants to stay all year round, he wouldn’t stay if you weren’t with him. “Don’t you miss dad? You know how he’ll feel if we stayed all year,” you point out. In the many letters and care packages your father had sent you too, it was clear that he was counting down the days of your return. Without you guys, the house was empty, just him and whatever activity he chose to occupy himself with. “I do miss him! It’s just- I really don’t want to go back to school,” he groans dramatically, and you laugh, nudging the other’s shoulder. “Yeah, because our father, the professor with two Ph.D. 's, is going to let you drop out of school.” Your tone is sarcastic, and you scoff. “You’re right. There’s no point in staying. He would be bang on the borders to get us,” Atticus grunts. “He’s probably bored out of his mind. What do you think he's doing right now?" You shift on your side to face your brother, Atticus smiling as he does the same. His eyes falter to the side as he thinks about the question. After a while, he shrugs,

"Probably, reading?" You laugh, assuming the same thing before Atticus has said so. "Maybe writing another textbook? I don't know. He must be bored out of his mind."

"He for sure is. That's kinda what happens when two 13-year-olds are your only friends," you joke, and Atticus shake his head,

“Dude, Dad needs a girlfriend. He shouldn’t have to depend on us as his main source of entertainment.” A giggle bubbles in your chest, and you agree.

Your father’s life has revolved around you guys and his work for so long. He had a few fellow scholars that he went to dinner with once and a while, and he went to conventions for his specialty often, but that was the extent of his social life. You didn’t think much of it until you noticed your grandmother constantly bickering with him about finding a wife and getting married. Sometimes you wonder if he got lonely.

"We should pray to Aphrodite about that," you suggest, and Atticus gives you a wide grin.

"Good idea. We can make some offerings for her when we get home.” You nod, already devising a plan for it in your head. You don’t get to dwell on it as Atticus speaks again. “Do you think the last time he dated was when he was with mom?"

"Probably. He was in love with her.” Your smile turns sad at the reminder of your mother. She’s so fondly spoken of by your father, and it made you want to meet her even more. Their time was short, about five months, but your father had a lot of stories about her. "It's been 13 years, though; I think it's time to move on."

"Yeah…” Atticus says sadly, and you furrow your eyebrows in concern. “I would like dad to find someone. Sometimes, I-I get worried."

"Why?"

"Because what if something bad happens to us? What would he do?" Your heart sinks in your chest at his question. The possibility of you living long enough to make it past being a teenager was low, and you were well aware of that. But you refrained from thinking about what would happen to your father. You couldn’t imagine the grief he’d go through. A few times, you’ve thought about the reversed situation, and you couldn’t conceptualize how you would be able to handle that much pain.

"I don't know,” you whisper, your brother's expression filled with sorrow. “But I'm sure he's thought about it.”

When you were younger, you didn’t quite understand why your father was always so anxious. You remember the panic in his voice when you wandered to play with the neighbor’s dog down the street instead of being in the front yard where he could see you. Or the time you lost Atticus for a few seconds at the giant Toys R Us in Times Square, only to find him gawking at the massive wall of action figures at the end of the aisle.

“You guys are my gifts.” That’s what he always says with a fond smile. “And when you have a gift so precious like the two of you, you want to protect it.” You could practically feel your father’s fingers patting the top of your head affectionately and the kiss he’d press on you and Atticus’s forehead when he would tuck you guys in bed as young children.

Sometimes you wished you could go back in time and be six again. When the only thing you knew was your father's tender adoration for you and Atticus and none of this goldy parent stuff.

"It's okay, though,” you chime in as you let the memory escape you. “Everything is fine right now, so let's not worry about that, alright?" You give Atticus a soft smile, hoping to lift the mood. Atticus nods, but his expression is still sad.

“Anyways…” You clear your throat, wanting to change the topic. It wasn’t worth dwelling on the future when things were okay now. Well, kind of okay, if you excuse the promise with a demon thing and the betrayal of your siblings. You shake your head as if it would shake those thoughts away too.

“Who are you asking to the party this weekend?”

Atticus sighs, quiet for a moment as if he was debating what to say. "I want to ask Annabeth, but she's probably going to say no.”

You jerk your head back, not expecting him to want to ask her. They barely talked, at least from what you’ve seen. "Annabeth? You like her?"

"... I didn't say I like her. I just said I wanted to ask her to the party,” Atticus stammers a bit, and you squint your eyes. Now it was time for you to call him out using the advantage of feeling his emotions.

"Well, you're asking her because you like her, right?"

"Wrong," Atticus says bluntly, and you press your lips together, amused that he was trying to deny it. Even without feeling his emotions, you were sure you would be able to tell. His crush didn’t surprise you that much.

"Atticus, there's no point in hiding how you feel about her. She's so your type," you turn on your back, feeling Atticus stare at the side of your face.

"As if you know my type," he scoffs and moves to sit up, leaning back on his hands.

"I do."

"Oh, really? what is it?"

"Hermoine Granger," you answer, looking up to see his reaction. You couldn’t see his reaction as he looked out at the lake.

"What?"

"I remember very clearly you saying that if you ever met a girl or guy like Hermoine Granger, you'd want to marry them.” You move to sit up beside him, noticing how his face remains expressionless.

“You cannot tell me, Annabeth isn't exactly like her, besides the magic and the British accent.” The silence that falls between the two of you makes you smile, knowing that you left him without words.

"It doesn't matter! Either way, she's gonna say no," he says, suddenly defensive, and you laugh at his frown.

"You could try?"

"No point. I asked my pendulum if she'd go with me, and it said no. I don't need to be Apollo to know that she's definitely going to reject me," he grumbles, and you sigh, shifting as you fold your legs to cross them.

"Well… we can just hang out together?" You offer, upset that Atticus had felt discouraged. You hadn't thought about the party. It didn’t occur to you that anyone would ask you to go with them either, so you had planned just to drop by and leave early.

Atticus side-eyes you, “just because I'm not asking Annabeth doesn't mean I'm going alone.” His tone was mocking, and your jaw dropped. You can’t believe you just got rejected by your own brother.

"Wow, okay. I'll just go with Lou Ellen then," you stick your tongue out at him, and Atticus smirks,

"Can't. Cecil asked her this morning."

You slouch at the news, and a grunt leaves your lips. You had planned to go alone anyway, so you shrug. "Well then, I'll just go alone.”

"I'm sure someone will ask you. I mean, you're not ugly," Atticus says, not too convincingly, putting his arms up when you narrow your gaze at him. “Wow, thanks.” “Guys!” You glance over at the direction of the call, Lou Ellen holding her sneakers in her hands as she rushes over to you. “You wanted to check on the body today, right? We should go now. Mr. D is at the strawberry fields with Pollux and Castor, and I saw Chiron in the stables,” She whispers once she’s close enough. Right. You momentarily forgot about your last obstacle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Your tone filled with dread as you stand up, patting the sand off your legs.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Gross,” Lou Ellen mutters as you close the door slowly behind you. You scrunch your face at the sight before you. The figure has fully grown, but its flesh and hair were missing in chunks.

“I mean, it’s growing…” you point out, looking off at the blue-tiled wall beside you. “Faster than we thought, too,” Atticus adds, gawking at the tub, and he walks over, grimacing at how the red water turned black and thick. “You know, I thought this wasn’t going to work, but we’re actually pulling this off,” he says proudly, and you giggle,

“Don’t speak too soon.”

It was as if the universe had heard your self-praise and decided to pull a joke on you because the moment you finished your sentence, you almost jump out of your skin as the bathroom door swings open, revealing a familiar blonde. You gasp, the three of you lunging from three different corners of the room and huddle close together to block the view of the tub.

Annabeth’s eyes fix on the three of you, not sure what she just saw in the bathtub before you three jump to stand in front of you.

“Hey,” you greet weakly, waving at her, and Annabeth furrows her eyebrows, a look of suspicion taking over her features.

“What is that?” She asks, leaning to the side to try and look past you. You lean to continue blocking her view, along with Atticus and Lou Ellen beside you.

“Nothing! We were just uh, gonna give Harvey a bath!” Atticus says, the ferret squealing on his shoulder as if he was vouching for him. Annabeth doesn’t look convinced, though, your body language telling her that you three were up to something, and she was determined to find out. She steps forward, forcibly cutting through you and Atticus, and you close your eyes in anticipation as you hear her breath get caught at the back of her throat. “What…” she trails off, not exactly sure what she was looking at. She backs away, her vision shifting from the three of you, and she shakes her head, eyes glazed over in disbelief, “CHIR-”

“SHUSH!” You leap over, covering her mouth, Annabeth’s eyes wide before they cloud over. Before she could strike you, Lou Ellen grabs her arms behind her back, binding her wrists and feet with magic while Atticus flicks his fingers to shut the door and locks it with his telekinesis. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize hastily, your hand effectively muffling her string of curses. “Incantare: Labia Sigillum,” you recite as she flails her body, trying to get out of the binds with no success.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“We just need you to listen, okay?” You ask Annabeth as she sits on the toilet lid, glaring at you with stormy eyes. You hope she calms down after you explain everything to her. You actually liked Annabeth; she showed you around camp when you had arrived and helped you pick out your dagger. The last thing you needed was to get on her bad side. Because if you did, you knew she wouldn’t go easy on you like Percy when it came to sword fighting.

Lou paces behind you, biting on her fingernails, “We’re so dead. She’s going to tell Chiron!” Atticus shakes his head, “No, she won’t. Right?” He asks Annabeth. Her persistent glare doesn't make you feel too confident in his assumption. You did not doubt in your mind that Annabeth would go to Chiron if you didn’t have her hostage in the bathroom right now.

“Look, you remember the demon thing we had to cast out of Percy’s cabin… the demon we told Chiron that’s already gone?”

You wait for a response, but you only receive a rolling of her eyes. You take that as a yes, so you continue, “when we tried to cast it away, it possessed me and made me make a deal with him. The deal is if I make him a body, he’ll leave all of us alone; which explains that.” You point to the half wax, half-human sitting up in the tub

Annabeth hesitantly looks over at it before returning her gaze to you. A series of grunts and groans leave her throat as if she’s trying to tell you something. “If I take the spell off of you, do you promise not to call Chiron?” You ask nervously, and though Annabeth nods, you didn’t quite believe her, but you decide to undo it anyway. Maybe, being the child of the wisdom goddess, she could help you out. Perhaps, give some words of advice. “Incantare: Contrarium,” you say softly, pointing at her lips. Her dark stare remains as her lips return to normal, the three of you still as you wait for her to speak. “All of you are idiots,” she snaps after some silence. So much for wise words.

You shift on your feet, opening your mouth to say something, but she cuts you off, “Are you really going to let that thing out into the world?”

“I mean, it’s going to terrorize people regardless,” you trail off as Annabeth gives you a look, telling you you needed to consider everything you’ve been worried about. Of course, you didn’t want to let him loose with a body that opened new possibilities for him. You bite the inside of your cheek as you come to terms with your moral code that’s been bothering you for a few days now.

“I- I can’t back out now! I swore on the River Styx that I’d give him this body,” you tell Annabeth as she shakes her head, the daughter of Athena pondering for a second.

“What did you swear to exactly?”

“I swore that I’d make the body,” you say, and Annabeth squints at you.

“That’s it?”

“Yes...?” You shift under her gaze, her expression unamused and impatient.

“You didn’t promise not to destroy it,” Atticus chimes in, and Annabeth’s eyes flicker over to him.

“Oh, look. He has a brain.” Annabeth smiles sarcastically, and Atticus nods, smiling wide and proud,

“You bet, Goldilocks. I’m actually pretty smart.” The side of your mouth curls at the interaction between the two, finding it funny as Annabeth’s face drops straight.

“Mhm,” Annabeth hums slowly before returning her gaze to you. “Your brother has your solution. Destroy it.”

“But-” you halt, thinking for a second. You couldn’t destroy it now. He’s still in the borders. If he found out that you ruined his body, he’ll quickly take over your body with or without protection. “We’d have to trick him.”

Lou perks up, “we can let him take over the body when it’s ready. We’ll escort him out of camp, and the moment he walks across the border, we can attack him from the other side.”

You turn around, considering her plan, before nodding. “Yeah, yeah! Though it looks like flesh, in its core, it’s still wax. Together we could form a beam of energy hot enough to melt him.”

“And even though his body will be destroyed, he still has to keep his promise,” Atticus adds.

You exchange looks with Lou and Atticus as you smile widely. Though you still held the burden of hiding the body, you felt lighter. At least you didn’t have to keep the guilt of letting him roam free, disguised as a human.

“Congrats! Now, can you let me go?” Annabeth cuts in, and you turn around. “Oh right, but… you promise not to tell Chiron, right?”

“I won’t tell anyone about this; I promise,” Annabeth says sincerely, and you nod, not seeing any reason to make her swear on the River Styx. You undo the binding spell, Annabeth standing up the moment she was free. She sighs, looking at the three of you one last time before she opens the bathroom door.

“You know, I liked you more than your brother, but now you guys are on the same level,” she narrows her eyes at you, and you frown.

“Sorry," you giggle nervously, catching Atticus’s offended expression,

“Hey!” ☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You look around, making sure there weren’t any wood nymphs watching you. You had seen them at the farm and in the kitchens making dinner for tonight, but you had to double-check for your peace of mind. Insammon had found a small crevice under Zeus’ fist to hang around in the meantime, and he insisted that while he waited for his body, he needed to be fed. It was like having a pet you didn’t ask for. You just hoped that the wood nymphs don’t take inventory because you’ve been taking whole chickens to Insammon almost every day.

Carefully, you approach the back of the fist, dumping raw chicken out of the plastic supermarket bag right in front of the entrance.

“There,” you grimace before Insammon’s long pale fingers with black nails appear from under the rock and snatch the meat under the stones.

“What’s the status?” He whispers.

“It’s almost done. It’s fully grown, but its flesh hasn’t covered the wax completely. It’s in patches.” The sound of gummy chewing of raw meat suddenly stops before his long face sticks out from under the rocks.

“What do you mean it’s in patches,” he snarls. “You said it would be done in four days!” “I said it might be done in four days, but it’ll most likely take a week,” you emphasize, annoyed at his impatience. “You better not be playing games with me, little girl,” he narrows his eyes at you, and your fist clenches at your side.

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you. Spells like this take time. If I could make this process faster, trust me, I would,” you roll your eyes, looking away for a second. You do a double-take as you catch Connor walking in the distance. You bite your lip, throwing the last bits of raw meat you were carrying, along with the bag at Insammon. He hisses at you as a drumstick bounces off his head, but you disregard his reaction. “Look, I have to go,” you tell him hastily. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” Insammon growls, too hungry to argue with you, and he swiftly returns into his little cave to enjoy his lunch. You speed walk away from the rocks, not wanting Insammon to hear if Connor called your name. Once you get a good distance, you stroll through the forest as usual. Just as you expected, Connor notices you, and with a call of your name, he is already jogging in your direction.

“Hey Con,” you smile, shoving your hands in your pockets. You look down at the giant black plastic bags in his hands, and you squint. “You’re sneaking contraband into the camp?” You ask, shaking your head as if you disapproved.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. May I remind you that some of these things are for you?” He teases, pulling out one of the snacks you paid him to get for you.

“Right, I forgot about that," you admit, and Connor chuckles as you take the bag of chips from his hands and open them up.

"You know, I was gonna go look for you," he says, and you tilt your head a little to the side as you munch on the chips in your mouth.

"I'm not pulling another prank with you." You didn't take Connor admitting to looking for you as a good thing. The last thing you wanted was to be a part of his schemes.

Connor laughs, and you’re still wary as he nudges you playfully. "That's not why I was going to look for you.” You squint at him, not too convinced, but as his expression left no traces of his usually mischievous grin, you consider that it was the truth. "I was looking for you because I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to that party with me on Friday."

You freeze, surprised at his question. You didn't think you'd get asked, especially not from Connor, and you weren't exactly sure what this meant. Connor notices your confusion, and he clears his throat, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"As friends!" He suddenly adds, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was going to ask someone else, but she had a date already, and Atticus mentioned you didn't have a date yet. So I thought I'd ask you…”

You nod slowly, feeling a little relieved that he had cleared that up. Connor was like a brother to you; you couldn’t see him any other way.

“But I don't want you to feel like a second choice!” He explains hastily, taking your lack of expression as if he offended you. “And you know, I don't see you like that, and we’re just friends. You're not my type… BUT that's not because you're not pretty. You're really pretty, and I'm surprised no one has asked you yet-"

"Connor, I'll go with you," you agree, amused at his rambling. You giggle at his wide eyes as he processes what you said for a moment. He huffs out shakily, cracking a smile at how nervous he suddenly was around you.

“Oh, great!” He perks up, and you reach over, pushing at his shoulder lightly.

"I know you weren't flirting, but if you got that nervous asking me to a party, you must be wreck around a girl you actually like," you tease, watching Connor’s mouth drop open at your assumption.

He scoffs, "I'm very good at flirting, but thanks for your concern.”

"If you say so," you say sarcastically, and you laugh as he jumps at the opportunity to defend himself.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You switch the sweaty solo cup from one hand to another, sitting on the stone steps of the amphitheater. Social events like these are fun, but after a while, you become drained and eventually need some time to regroup. Ambrose’s head rests on your knee, snorting as you scratch the back of his ear.

“Hm, should we take a walk?” You ask your familiar, placing the solo cup of soda beside you, and you stand up. His wagging tail told you that he didn’t mind a walk right now, so you begin making your way to the exit. Before you leave, you look over and find Connor laughing with his brothers, teasing Travis, who’s talking to Katie Gardner.

Con mentioned that Travis had a little crush on Katie, and you can imagine that he was talking to her now under the persuasion of Connor, of course. You giggle, watching the boys laugh for a moment before turning around and walking with Ambrose.

“Should we go to the docks?” You ask Ambrose, thinking perhaps you could hang out there before you decided to call it a night. The hound beside you barks, and you take that as yes as you change your direction to the water.

Your mind wanders off to what Atticus would say if he saw you ditch the party to sit on the docks. He’d probably tell you that you’re boring.

“Would you really rather stare at water than dance or talk to people?” You could hear his voice asking. To answer that question, yeah, sometimes you would prefer to stare at water than be at a party. Though, it wasn’t like you were miserable. For the first few hours, you were hanging amongst your friends, and you danced with Connor and a few other people, but you eventually went off to sit by yourself as Connor got swept up in the festivities.

When you arrive at the water, you take off your shoes, letting your feet sink in the sand. A cool breeze hits your skin, and you smile, closing your eyes as you take a moment to enjoy it.

You had thought you were alone until you walked along the sand, looking up at seeing Percy sitting at the edge of the dock, eyes fixed at the sky. Your eyes may have lingered at the sight for too long, admiring the way the moonlight illuminates off of Percy’s skin. His lips move as if he was talking to someone, and you assume that he’s praying. You didn’t intend to get his attention, deciding you’d probably sit on the sand for a little before calling it a night. That is until Ambrose barks and rushes over to Percy.

You were just as startled as he was, smiling nervously as his gaze snaps over. As Ambrose’s tail wags erratically, you shake your head amused. Though Ambrose was hostile to Percy at first, it didn’t take long for him to warm up to him, especially after staying over in his cabin. If Ambrose could touch him, he’d probably be all over him, especially as he jumps up only for his paws to go right through Percy’s body.

“Hey, buddy,” you hear Percy say as you walk over, his eyes meeting yours once you step on the dock.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say playfully, and Percy smiles,

“I’m starting to think you’re following me,” he jokes. Amongst your first meeting, you’ve had a couple of other run-ins with him at night on the docks. There were always coincidences. But you did find yourself hoping that you would see him there on the nights you decided to hang out there.

You giggle and shake your head, sitting beside him at the end of the dock. “You’ve caught me,” you say sarcastically, making a soft chuckle come from Percy. Leaning back on your hands, you look out at the crescent moon in the sky.

“Sorry if Ambrose interrupted anything. He was excited to see you, obviously,” you giggle as Ambrose breathes heavily, his head in between your bodies as he looks at Percy with cheerful eyes.

“It’s okay.” Percy laughs at Ambrose, finding him to be cute after looking past him resembling a baby bear at times. His eyes scan over Ambrose’s features, and he hums, “I wish I could touch him, though.”

“I mean, I could make that happen,” you mention, and Percy perks up with interest. “I just need something from your body to offer it to his soul.”

“Like a shirt?”

“More like blood or hair,” you clarify, Percy’s expression flashing with shock, which sends your chest bubbling with laughter.

“Really?” He gawks at you, not sure if you were joking or not.

“Yeah, it’s a commitment, so you should probably think about it. You shouldn’t give your blood or hair to just anyone, especially not a witch,” you joke, and he scrunches his face.

“You’re scaring me,” he says with a slight smile on his face. “Will you hex me? Make a voodoo doll?”

“Only if you give me a good enough reason to. But in the meantime, I’d just put it on Ambrose’s little altar. After I do, he’ll be able to touch you like a normal dog. It's your choice.”

“I’ll think about it, but I think petting Ambrose would be worth it.” Percy nods, watching Ambrose as the hound lays his head on your shoulder.

“The slobber is a bonus. You’d be crazy to give it up.”

Percy’s eyes glint at your sarcasm. “You’re right. You might get a piece of my hair soon, firefly.”

You smile, head tilting a little to the left as you take notice of the nickname he had given you.

“Firefly?”

“Yeah, when you do magic, you glow. It’s cool,” Percy nudges you, and you scoff. “What? Do you not like it? Are you jealous that it’s more creative than water boy,” he teases.

Your jaw drops open, eyes bright as he insults your nickname for him. His nickname was better than yours, but you couldn’t admit that out loud. “Please, I could come up with a better nickname for you if I wanted to.”

“Oh really? Then what would it be?” He challenges. You’re still for a second as you try to think of another nickname for him. Percy’s amused stare is hard to ignore, his smile so bright you swore it glowed in the moonlight. The longer you’re silent, you press your lips, refusing to give in to how contagious his smile is.

“Puddles,” you blurt out, surprised when Percy bursts into laughter.

“Where did that even come from?” He chokes out, and you shift, suddenly feeling defensive.

“Anything that has to do with water seems like an appropriate nickname for you- why are you laughing?!” Percy’s face turns pink as his laughter echoes into the distance, and you couldn’t help but join him.

“No-nothing! It was just the last thing I’d expect you to say. I thought you were going to say something like Aquaman or Captain Saltwater.” The side of your lip curls into a smirk, and you shrug,

“I mean, I could call you Captain Saltwater.”

“Call me that, and I’ll call you the necromancer,” Percy threatens playfully, and you scrunch your nose, shaking your head at the nickname.

“Fair enough, puddles,” you say, trying not to focus on the butterflies in your stomach as he nods,

“Good choice, firefly.”

“I’m glad that you’re spending time flirting with your boyfriend instead of making my body,” a voice cuts in, and you gasp, turning around and seeing Insammon standing at the beginning of the pier.

“Woah,” Percy mutters, the hair on his arms sticking up as his mind can hardly process Insammon’s exaggerated human features. Ambrose growls, his body alert, and you quickly stand up, Percy doing the same. You move in front of him, annoyed that Insammon would dare to show himself out in the open like this.

“I told you already. Spells like this take time-”

“That was two days ago. I’m bored!” He complains, his bulging eyes roll, and your fist clenches, eyes averting to make sure no one else is around. To your relief, you three were alone.

“Too bad! I need at least another day or two!”

“Two?” Insammon asks with a chuckle, but it wasn’t from amusement. His legs clank as he begins to approach you, Ambrose’s growl grows louder and more threatening. “Listen, little girl.” His tone deepens as he narrows his gaze at you. “I am not a force to be reckoned with. I want that body now or else. Should I remind you what’s at stake?” He asks, not waiting for your answer as black vapor begins to swallow him whole. You feel goosebumps rise on your skin as he surrounds his body and shrinks into a ball as it did the night you tried to cast him away.

“Protego rotundus!” You shout, everything going in slow motion as Insammon contracts in a ball of vapor and shoots himself toward you. A sinking feeling fills your gut, worrying that you had cast the spell too late but the white translucent dome forms around you and Percy fast, deflecting Insammon as it sends him flying backward. The cloud of vapor crashes back where he stood before dispersing and revealing Insammon’s true form again.

A feral snarl leaves his mouth, his eyes bulging so much out of his head that you half expected it to pop out and roll on the floor. You gulp as a shrill laugh come from his lips,

“So quick-witted. I must admit I admire it, but I’m still impatient,” Insammon growls.

“I already told you! It’s not finished!” You argue, holding the dome for as long as you could.

“Fine! Then I’ll need to quench my boredom. Should I perhaps attack one of your friends in the Amphitheater? Most of them don’t have those fancy domes,” he points out before turning around, eyes looking in the direction of the Amphitheater. “... what do you think?”

“You can’t!”

“I can’t?”

“No, you’ll break your promise,” you say, and he furrowed his eyebrows,

“I said I would leave everyone you know alone on the agreement that I get a body from you,” he explains with a clenched jaw.

“No, it was on the agreement that I make a body for you. I’ve already started making it so you’ll be pushing the terms,” you protest, and he squints at you, thinking for a second.

“It’s not completely made yet.”

“It wasn’t specified that you’d keep your promise after it was completely made. But sure, would you like to challenge the terms? You’ll probably only get thrown into Tartarus for a few thousand years.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Who knows? I may have saved you by casting this spell.”

Insammon scoffs, shifting uncomfortably as he considers your point. “Tomorrow. That’s the longest I’m willing to wait.”

“Fine. If you want to walk amongst the mortals with half a face, then who am I to argue?” You watch as his face clouds wickedly, and he points a finger at you.

“You’re pushing it, little girl,” he warns as the vapor takes over his body again, and he disappears right before your eyes.

The white dome retracts, your eyes scanning the area to see if he had left for real. “You know…” You cut through the silence that fell after his departure. “Maybe the necromancer is a good nickname for me,” you comment, looking over at a pale Percy.

“Yeah,” he chuckles nervously, still shaken from what he had seen. “Seems like they like you.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean, you don’t like it?!” You shout, Insammon standing in front of the tub with his arms crossed and his face contorts into a pout.

“Dude, it has everything you asked for,” Atticus argues, pointing at the body in the tub.

“I just don’t like it!”

“Well, too bad! Get into it and get out. We don’t have time for this,” Lou Ellen whispers, opening the bathroom door and peeking into the hallway to see if the lights of the big house were still turned off. The three of you cut dinner to take Insammon to the big house while everyone was in the dining pavilion. You had hoped you could get back before anyone noticed you were gone.

“I’ll trap you again to make sure I get a new one,” Insammon proclaims, pointing a finger at you.

You roll your eyes, picking up the clothes you stole from Mr. D’s room off of the counter. “We’ll wait for you outside of the door. Rinse yourself off and put this on.”

“THIS?”

You and Atticus exchange a look before you shove the outfit into Insammon’s chest. “Yes, this!” Insammon makes a sound close to a gag as he holds the outfit away from him as if it were toxic.

“A Hawaiian shirt and… KHAKIS? I’m offended that you dare demand that I put this on!”

“Well, you can change into better clothes when you’re out of here.” You give him a fake smile before grabbing Atticus’s hand. “So hurry up,” you urge before the three of you funnel out of the bathroom and close the door behind you.

Lou Ellen paces in front of the bathroom, and you bite your lip, furrowing your eyebrows at how silent it became in the bathroom. For the past 10 minutes, you heard an array of noises; the water from the shower, some bumps, and bangs as Insammon clumsily washes himself off and figures out how to put his clothes on. You tap your foot, wondering why he was so quiet, and lift your arm to knock on the door before you hear a loud groan.

“Ugh! I look like an American tourist,” he proclaims dramatically, and you roll your eyes, realizing the reason why he was so quiet was because he was checking himself out in the mirror.

“Who knew demons cared so much about self-image,” Lou Ellen grumbles as finally, after what felt like forever, Insammon opens the door, revealing himself with his new body. You preferred this appearance better than his true form.

“You do look like an American tourist,” Atticus snorts, and both you and Lou Ellen send him a glare, making him put his arms up in defense. “He said it first!”

“Just get me out of here. The faster I leave, the sooner I get better clothes. If you can even call these clothes,” he rolls his eyes and pushes past you.

Atticus slaps his hand over his mouth, and you press your lips together as you watch the other walk. The clanky walking turned into a wide step with knees too bent and feet turned out. A whimper leaves Lou Ellen’s throat as she refrains from laughing, especially as he halts at the stairs.

“How do you walk on such a thing?” He asks, pointing at the stairs, and you exchange looks with your siblings, hoping that teaching him how to get down the stairs isn’t going to take too long.

Long story short, Insammon marked a significant milestone as a human: he took his first fall. As his body plummeted down the stairs after missing a step, you, Atticus, and Lou Ellen lost your breath in silent laughter. The three of you had tears in your eyes as you attempted to conceal your laughter as a groaning Insammon clumsily got back on his feet.

“You regret being a human now?” Atticus comments as he walks down the rest of the stairs, you and Lou Ellen following close behind him.

“Shut up,” Insammon snaps. “Get me out of this glorified daycare. I’m tired of being here.”

You roll your eyes, leaning him out of the back door of the big house and making your way straight into the forest. The commute was uncomfortably quiet, the three of you not wanting to be suspicious. Even though you had discussed your plan before he had arrived, you were still nervous about it.

“So, what are your plans once you get out there?” Atticus asks, attempting to make some small talk, and Insammon hums, contemplating his choices now that he was a human.

“I will find new clothing first,” he declares, still bothered at what he was wearing. “But after that, I will find my next target,” he smiles wickedly.

“Sounds like a good time,” Atticus says, and you make eye contact with the other, immediately sensing his anxiety as it added to your own. He smiles softly, though, silently communicating to you that everything will be fine, and you hesitantly return the smile as you eventually arrive at the camp entrance.

Insammon walks across and turns around, looking at the three of you. You, Lou Ellen, and Atticus make sure to remain within the camp borders just as planned. “Well, this is where we leave you. Just keep walking straight, and you’ll reach the road,” you explain while giving him a fake smile.

“I refuse to thank you for your service since you did a horrible job. I will not miss you, nor do I care about you, so I will simply say, hmm, goodbye,” he proclaims, and you press your lips together, nodding your head, “Uh... okay.”

He gives you a satisfied look before facing the rest of the forest. Your pulse thumped loud in your ears, and you grabbed Lou Ellen and Atticus’s hand. Together, you took a deep breath, your auras seeping out of your bodies and fusing into a giant orb right in front of you. You bite your lip, getting the sphere almost as big as Insammon’s body while the other mindlessly walks into the forest, too busy making sure he doesn’t trip over the tree roots and branches. But as the orb grew and the colors swirled wildly amongst themselves, the light illuminated further and further, catching Insammon’s attention right before it was done. “What is this? What are you-?!” “NOW!” You shout, releasing the tug in your core, and with your will, you send the beam right into Insammon. He fails to lunge out of the way in time, his reflexes slow as he’s still unadjusted to his new body. A scream of agony and anger, mostly anger, cuts through the stillness of the night as the heat of your orb engulfs him, melting right into the wax, and soon he topples over, his screams ceasing as the orb of light fades. It was quiet for a moment; the only sound you could hear was your pulse, and you opened your mouth to say something before Insammon suddenly appeared in his true form. “How dare you, you little brat!” He shouts, stomping right to you. “I will possess you again, not to take over your body but to KILL YOU!” You step back, flinching as Insammon collides with the borders of the camp. He growls in frustration, banging on the wall with his lanky arms, a blue ring forming around every hit.

“You’ll die trying,” you remind him. “But if you’re so keen on going to Tartarus, we could send you there ourselves.” You’re unphased at the strained face of anger that flashed over his features. The bulged eyes, the wide mouth, the way his pale skin has turned a tint of pink.

The adrenaline of your success kicks in as your siblings begin to chant the banishing spell, and you chant with them—Insammon, too eager to get to you, kicks and growls against the borders.

You knew he was too weak to shift into his shadow self. He hadn’t fed off anyone’s fears in a week, and possessing that body and yours took a lot of strength. You couldn’t help but smile as you approached the end of your chant, watching as he began to shrink, using his last bit of energy to bang on the borders and yell threats that he’d never be able to fulfill.

“Bye-bye,” you kneel in front of him, your smile genuine this time.

“Curse you,” he strains as your siblings yell the sentence that ends all of your spells.

“So mote it be,” you join, watching as he disperses into ash with one last scream, and you sigh in satisfaction before standing back up.

It was silent for a moment, and you turned to your siblings with a smile on your face. Atticus stretches out both of his arms, and hands clenched into fists, “Pound it!” He shouts, and you and Lou Ellen giggle, pounding your knuckles into his.

“Now that that’s over, let’s go see if Percy saved us food,” Lou giggles, and you nod,

“Gah, I hope so. I’m starving.” Atticus nods in agreement, and you circle your arms around both of them, pulling them close to your side.

“That was pretty awesome,” Atticus says, the three of you beaming now that that whole ordeal was solved.

“Ha! I know! I told you we’d get this sorted out!” Lou Ellen declares.

“Actually, Y/n said everything would work out. You were the pessimistic one,” Atticus points out, and Lou Ellen scoffs,

“I’m not pessimistic! I’m just cautious!”

“You weren’t very cautious when you almost singed my eyebrow hairs when we were practicing our beams earlier this summer!”

“You were in the way!”

“I was behind you! I couldn’t have been more out of your way!”

You giggle as you listen to the two bickers back and forth. While walking with them side by side back to camp, you find your mind faltering to all of your worries a few weeks ago and your grief towards losing your guides in your magic. As you take in Lou Ellen and Atticus, you realize that your fear of being lost had been foolish. The three of you were more than capable, working as one to cast spells that you’ve never done before with ease. And with the relief of getting rid of Insammon comes the comfort of you accepting that you, Lou, and Atticus will be just fine without your brothers.

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buckysthunderbolts · 4 years ago

Text

look after you (3)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: sexual themes, language, typical marvel violence, blood, death, murder, just to be sure that i cover all the basis this is 18+. minors dni

Word Count: 5.1k+

Author’s Note: Hello!!!! I am really sorry that this part took me forever to post. The last month has kicked my ass but now everything’s a little calmer. As always, enjoy and tell me what you think! Comments, reblogs, and asks are encouraged and greatly appreciated.

When you return to Latvia nearly a day later, you’re more than eager to get back on your feet. Despite the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion running through your body, you’re glad to be back at it with Bucky and Sam. You’re somewhat rested, and you take the opportunity to visit one of the refugee camps to see if you could find any information on Donya Madani.

When you enter the camp, you try your best to keep a low profile. You don’t draw attention to yourselves and try not to ruffle any feathers.

“We should split up, cover more ground,” Zemo stated.

Bucky glares at him, shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. You’ll just take off.”

You press a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. He looks over at you and you smile gently at him. “I’ll go with him,” you said.

His blue eyes stare into yours. It makes your heart race and your knees weak. Warmth spreads across your entire body. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He knows you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and keeping a watchful eye on Zemo. It’s why he doesn’t argue.

The four of you split in two and you and Zemo begin walking in the opposite direction. You’re on high alert, watching the refugees carefully. They don’t seem too concerned with your presence and avoid you entirely when you speak and attempt to approach them about Donya Madani. Although you tried connecting with them in the native language, no one wanted to talk.

You’re silent for the most part, taking in your surroundings. You walk past a makeshift classroom and the teacher and his students hurry away from you. This wasn’t what you hoped and wasn't successful. It started to piss you off.

“Have you and Sergeant Barnes been together for long?” Zemo asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your brows pinch together and you stop in your tracks. Zemo turns to look at you expectantly. You take a careful breath. The last thing you need is for Zemo to get under your skin in a place where no one trusted you and away from Sam and Bucky. You begin walking again and Zemo falls into step beside you.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you justified with a calm tone to your voice, “but we’re not together.”

You feel Zemo’s smirk beside you as he looks over at you. You grit your teeth and squeeze the inside of your palms harshly. You can’t react. You have to lay low. Do not cause a scene. Don’t bring unwarranted attention. Do not stand out.

“But you care deeply for one another, correct?”

That much was obvious. You’ve always cared for each other. At the beginning it was because of Steve. Anyone Steve loved and cared for, by extension, you did too. It was also how you felt towards Sam when you were introduced to one another.

But something changed along the way. You sought each other out. You relied on him as he did with you. You’d grown incredibly close prior to the blip, and if it hadn’t happened, maybe things would be different. Bucky would always be there to help Sam, regardless of the indifference he shows towards him. You’re tired of fighting. It’s all you’ve ever done. You can’t do it anymore.

Bucky feels the need to repent and right his wrongs even though he was tortured and brainwashed to commit such heinous acts. He won’t stop fighting. He needs to help, to protect, to be good for the world. It’s all he’s ever wanted and it had been taken from him for so long.

You nod in reply. You say nothing else. You weren’t about to spill your secrets to the man that brought Bucky incredible pain. He is not your friend and you don’t owe him anything.

Thankfully, Zemo says nothing and you eventually regroup in the courtyard of the camp. You’d come up with nothing valuable and neither had Sam and Bucky. You would be leaving empty handed.

You watch Zemo approach a young girl as you stand beside Bucky. You feel his gaze against the side of your face. You don’t say anything. You’re still reeling from your conversation with Zemo.

Your heart beat picks up and the stress you feel gathers on your shoulders. Bucky whispers your name and this time you turn to look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

No, you wanted to say. He made your mind a jumbled mess. You couldn’t think clearly with him so close to you. He makes your body tingle with want and desire. You wanted James Buchanan Barnes to ruin you completely, if only for a night, consequences be damned.

You swallow the lump in your throat and push down the desire in your chest. The corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a soft smile. You nod, looking back over as Zemo rejoins the group.

“I’m fine,” you said with as much conviction as you could muster and take a step away from him.

Lie, you hissed to yourself. You’ve never lied so blatantly to Bucky before. It made your chest ache painfully.

What could you say? You make me feel like a fool. No one’s made me feel like a fool, not even Steve. But you didn’t want Steve. You didn’t desire him the way you do Bucky, dare you say loved him in the way you think you love Bucky.

Your mind races with imagination. The feeling of his hands on your waist. His lips pressed against the junction of your neck and shoulder. The contrast between his warm, calloused right hand and the coolness of his metal arm trailing along your body and pulling your clothes off.

You needed to get away from him, and fast. You can barely breathe with him beside you.

You’re the first to leave the camp and Sam, Bucky, and Zemo trail after you as they bicker at one another. Yet again, Zemo was one step ahead and holding the information hostage.

As you make your way back to the townhouse, you freeze in the middle of the street. The uniform is unmistakable. You’d seen it on posters, on television, and even on public buses. John Walker, the man you had no desire to meet, was approaching you with his buddy right beside him.

His voice thunders in the street, causing locals to stop what they’re doing to look at the new Captain America. He stops in front of you and looks you up and down. Just as you were sizing him up, he was doing the same to you.

“Is this the reason why you won’t return any of my messages? You’re too busy slumming it with Wilson and Barnes, as well as a known terrorist? I thought you knew better.” Walker asked.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m on vacation,” you said like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just so happens that Sam and Bucky are in town at the same time I am. Crazy coincidence, right?”

“Watch your mouth, Walker,” Bucky growled at the man.

John’s eyes narrow as he stares at you, ignoring Bucky completely. You’re being childish and petty but you don’t care. Walker is an asshole. His eyes challenge yours, but you square your shoulders and stare him down. He doesn’t scare you. You don’t answer to him.

“We’ll take it from here. Zemo is coming with us.”

“No, he’s not,” Sam said. “We have somewhere to be and Zemo is the only one who can take us there. This is the only time that we may be able to reason with Karli, she lost the person closest to her.”

You resume your trek up the street and the boys fall close behind you. Bucky’s quick to join your side and Walker runs ahead to stop you from moving any further. His gaze flickers between you, Sam, and Bucky. You roll your eyes and let out a scoff.

“You’re really going to let your partner do this, Bucky?” Walker asked him, looking between the two men.

Bucky and Walker bicker back and forth and you and Zemo slip between them when you notice the same girl he had spoken to earlier. You follow her quietly through a back door and slip inside the building. You watch Sam disappear around the corner and you lean against a metal beam in the boiler room. You pick at your nails and ignore Walker pacing the length of the room, looking over at Bucky every now and then as he guards the door.

Walker huffs impatiently and takes a step towards the door. You stand up and Bucky shoves Walker back. You swallow the lump in your throat as the two men stare at one another. At the mention of the serum in Bucky’s veins, rage runs through you. He didn’t ask to be the Winter Soldier. He didn’t ask for the serum. The serum had taken so much from him. It’s not something that he’s proud of.

“Don’t you dare say that,” you hissed at him, shoving him away from Bucky. You were so close to clocking him in the jaw. “You have no idea how much he has lost because of the serum.”

There’s a glint in his eyes and he looks between you and Bucky. “What are you, his guard dog?”

“I can say the same thing about Lemar.”

“We’ve waited around long enough. It’s time to go.”

He shoves himself past Bucky and Lemar does the same. You and Bucky run after them into the main room where Karli and Sam are. Her brown eyes widen in panic and betrayal as she looks from Sam back to John. Sam attempts to reason with her again and you run straight between them in an attempt to block John’s attack.

Karli’s super strength sends you and Sam flying into the nearby table and she takes off. Bucky runs after her and you scramble to your feet. You split off from Sam and back track into the boiler room. The handcuffs are empty and you curse loudly before racing down a flight of stairs. Your heart feels as if it’s beating out of your chest and the adrenaline rushes through you. The ache in your shoulder is the least of your concerns as you creep up to the basement door.

With a gun in one hand, you reach for the handle and twist the knob. It doesn’t budge under the pressure of your hand as you attempt to jiggle it open. The sound of gunfire rings through your ears on the other side of the door. You point the gun on the lock and fire until there’s a hole in the door. You shove your body against the door and it caves under your weight.

With your gun raised, you climb down the steps before relenting at the sight of Zemo unconscious on the floor with John looming over him. You tuck your gun in the back of your jeans and look over the room. Shattered glass vials are all over the floor and you glance at Walker suspiciously.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Zemo shot Karli and destroyed the vials that contained the serum,” he answered before turning his back on you and climbing up the stairs.

Sam and Bucky join you several minutes later. You stare up at them against a cold metal crate beside the unconscious Baron. Bucky crouches in front of you and looks at you carefully.

“You okay? What happened?” he asked.

You nod your head and tell them what supposedly happened while you were attempting to get to Zemo and John Walker before anything worse happened. It made you feel uneasy and you have a gut feeling that Walker was lying to you.

“Do you believe him?” Sam questioned, looking over at Zemo.

You shook your head. You run a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “No. I don’t trust him. Something about the way he looked at the broken vials makes me nervous. I don’t think he was telling me the whole truth.”

Silence falls between the three of you before Sam speaks again. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll regroup back at the house.”

You nod and get back on your feet. Sam and Bucky pull Zemo from the floor and drag him out of the basement out of the camp to the main street. You return to the house and Zemo is placed on the nearest couch. Bucky disappears out the door once more and you join Sam at the kitchen counter. You fish around the liquor cabinet and pour two glasses of whiskey for you and Sam.

You take the time to shake off the stress and anxiety in your shoulders and enjoy the brief silence covering the room.

It doesn’t last long, and soon Zemo begins to stir back into consciousness. He groans loudly and grasps at his head. Sam wordlessly grabs an ice pack from the fridge and hands both the pack and the glass of whiskey over to him.

You sit down in one of the loveseats and kick your feet up on the coffee table. Within seconds, Zemo starts spewing his self righteous bullshit.

“Jesus Christ, do you ever shut up?” you snapped, downing the rest of your whiskey.

Sam smiles and a low chuckle from Zemo fills the room. You sigh softly and ignore him once more. Bucky returns several minutes later and practically rips off his leather jacket. It makes your cheeks flush and you watch him pour himself his own drink into a glass.

“There’s something wrong about Walker,” he said with a huff.

“You don’t say,” Sam replied with a smirk.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one, because I am crazy.” He takes a sip of his whiskey.

You bark out a laugh and Sam does the same. “Can’t argue with that.”

There’s a beat of silence that falls over the room and Bucky sighs deeply. “You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

You jump to your feet and step between the two men. Your hand presses against his chest. “You know he didn’t give the shield to him, Bucky.”

A flash of hurt and anger appears across his face. You had never been on the receiving end of his hurt and anger before. It makes your chest ache as you look at him. He takes a step away from you and glares. Your heart leaps inside your throat and you attempt to reach for him again. He pushes your hand away. He had never rejected you so blatantly before.

“How can you say that? After all that Steve’s done for you and you’re so casual and flippant about the shield! How dare you!” he yelled at you, his voice thundering off the walls and into your ears. It makes you wince and you’re fighting back tears.

“He’s gone!” you shouted back. “Why should I care about something that was left behind by someone who abandoned me!”

His eyes darken as he stares at you. He shakes his head in disbelief and a bitter laugh leaves his throat. “Sam should have never asked you to come.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, but I won’t abandon Sam the way that Steve abandoned me. I’m willing to sacrifice what needs to be done, even if it makes me unhappy. I’m not a coward. I don’t want to be here more than you do,” you hissed, your body filling with rage. “I’m more than happy to leave.”

“Good! Then go!”

“Fine!”

Just as you’re about to gather your things and storm out of the house, the doors burst open and John and Lemar storm inside. He points to Zemo and says, “He’s coming with us. Hand him over.”

Sam and John argue with one another and you step away from Bucky. You’re pissed and hurt and you have no energy to join their bitching contest. You cross your arms over your chest and just seconds pass before the Dora Milaje walk through the doors.

You watch with a smug smirk as Walker reaches a hand out to Ayo. You hold your breath as he places a hand on her shoulder. A split second passes and John and Lemar are both getting their asses kicked. You stand out of the way and gleam as they struggle against the Dora Milaje. One of the spears slices through the air and pins the shield against the kitchen table.

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky exclaimed.

If you weren’t pissed at him, you would’ve laughed. Sam says his name disapprovingly and Bucky rolls his eyes as he attempts to stop Ayo from doing anymore damage. Sam soon follows suit and you sigh before joining them.

You had spent several long months training alongside the Dora Milaje when you were on the run after the Accords. They had helped you perfect your technique and made you an ever better fighter. You block the jabs of the spear with the outside of your forearms and quickly side step out of the way as one of the women aims at your gut.

With all things considered, you were fairing far better than both Sam and Bucky combined, and you hadn’t been keeping up with your training regiment.

Another spear nearly sideswipes your face and your reflexes take over as you spin out of the way. You’re growing tired and out of breath, and they still haven't been able to get you to yield.

Soon you were overpowered and you fell on your back with a loud crash. The wind is knocked out of you and you see stars at the corners of your eyes. Your head turns towards the bathroom doors and you can see an outline of a sewage drain. Zemo had escaped in the middle of the fight.

John and Lemar are the first to leave, followed by the Dora Milaje. Bucky lends a hand down to you and you slap it away. You could be petty and angry too. You pretend not to notice the flash of hurt and surprise on his face as he adjusts to his metal arm again with a roll of his shoulder.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

You grunt in response. “Fine.”

“Let’s go.”

You leave the house and trail behind Sam and Bucky as you walk down a number of streets with no particular destination. You’re silent and fuming as you listen to Sam talk on the phone. He stops up ahead and glances down at his phone.

“That was Sarah. Karli threatened my nephews. She wants to meet and said for me to come alone,” Sam said, staring at the coordinates on the screen.

“We’re coming with you,” Bucky said. There was no room for discussion and Sam didn’t argue.

You’re nearly out of breath when you arrive at the correct coordinates. You attempt to control your breathing as you creep up the stairs with Sam in front and Bucky behind. Sam yells for Karli and she steps in front of one of the white pillars. You stand beside Bucky just far enough that it doesn’t make it seem like you’re a threat. Her eyes flicker over to the two of you before returning to look back at Sam.

You shift nervously on your feet and the sound of Sharon’s voice rings through your ears. She had found John. Karli takes off and it takes a split second for Bucky to run after her. You cling to Sam and he takes off in the air.

“Brace yourself!” Sam shouted at you.

You cling to his back and use his shoulder for cover as he breaks through the glass ceiling. You shake off your legs and Sam squeezes your arm reassuringly.

Suddenly a body flies through the closest door and hits the wall with a crack. To your own horror, John walks up to the man, a man that has super soldier strength, like it’s nothing. It scares the shit out of you as you watch with wide eyes as Walker bends a steel pipe in half before sending the Flag Smasher to the ground once more.

You glance over at Sam and he’s just staring at John. “What did you do?”

You both know that you didn’t need him to answer to come to the right conclusion. Somehow John had managed to snag a vial of the serum. You were right back at the memorial. Something was wrong and it had been John all along. He had knocked out Zemo and stole the last vial before it could be destroyed.

You feel a sense of responsibility for it. If you had reacted quicker than you did down in the basement, maybe then Walker wouldn’t actually have the serum running through him. You could’ve stopped him and you didn’t, and it was all because of a locked door. You could hold your own against John without the serum, but now that he has it and he’s always so full of rage, you don’t know if you would be able to. He had the strength to kill you.

You follow the two men in a daze in an attempt to find Lemar. Everything was quiet and still. It sends you on edge. You step into an empty workshop. Tables are flipped on their sides, chairs everywhere, and scraps of paper and wood litter the floor.

Sam pushes you out of the way as a Flag Smasher jumps from the overhead balcony straight towards you. You stumble slightly before regaining your bearings and joining the fight. Your body screams in protest but you push through it. With every kick and punch finding its intended target, you’ve lived to see another second.

One of them kicks you in the backside, cornering you with another partner. The force of the kick nearly knocks the breath out of you. You shake it off and dodge a stab to the face. You quickly disarm the knife from your opponent and use their surprise to your advantage.

You may not have super serum in your blood, but you put up one hell of a fight. You easily avoided and stepped away as your attacker spins in the air. You wait for an opening and kick your leg up high, sending them backwards. You throw the knife down just inches from their head as a warning.

As you turn on your back, you quickly stumble as another opponent reaches to stab you. Bucky comes barreling in with an iron fist and the man goes flying and crashes into a nearby table. You have a split second to react as Bucky drags you back on your feet.

You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to fight, especially defensively. If any of the Flag Smashers noticed that you were favoring your left side more than your right, they would use it to their advantage and kill you. Your right shoulder throbs and you taste blood and sweat on your tongue.

You spin on your heels as you watch Karli barrel towards you, nearly taking your head off. You were tired, but you were still fast on your feet.

It feels like it happens in slow motion. Lemar miraculously appears and throws Karli off balance. For a brief moment, he was holding his own.

Until he wasn’t.

Karli punches him with so much force that the sound of the pillar cracking underneath his weight vibrates through your ears. Everything stops, even Karli and her followers stare at the man pinned against the pillar. A number of sounds and voices fill your ears as you watch John crouch beside his partner to try and find a pulse. He shakes his head but nothing happens. There’s no response.

Lemar’s gone. Lemar is dead.

Sam nearly drags you with him as John jumps out of the building at the closest window. Your legs burn, screaming for rest as you run alongside Bucky and Sam through the building towards the growing sounds of screaming in the courtyard.

Bucky stops you and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. There was nothing you could do but watch as John publicly executed someone with the shield. A shield that used to mean so much to the world was now and forever tainted. It’s legacy is gone.

The civilians that had gathered starred in complete awe with their phones out as they witnessed Captain America slaughter a man that wasn’t responsible for Lemar’s death.

He just stares off into the crowd, breathing hard and heavy as the blood from his victim stains the shield. He takes off, running away from the crowd, presumably to get away from Sam and Bucky.

You take a step, intending to run after him, but Sam stops you. “We’ll get him later. Right now we need to talk to the police and paramedics. If the countless videos aren’t enough proof of what John did was wrong, our statements will.”

You nod but don’t say anything as exhaustion takes over. Your knees buckle and Bucky nearly carries you to the nearest ambulance. A blanket is wrapped around you and you’re given a bottle of water. Bucky leans against the ambulance door and your eyes watch another team of paramedics take care of the body underneath the statue.

He’s placed on to a stretcher and a cloth is draped over his body to give the illusion of privacy, even in death, despite the number of people that watch.

A police officer approaches the ambulance you’re sitting in and asks if you’re ready to give a statement. You nod as you gulp down your water. You tell the officer everything that happened that led to the tragic event that followed just several minutes earlier. You leave out any mentions of the serum. The US government would find out soon enough.

The officer thanks you for your time as another one approaches to take Bucky’s official statement. His is nearly identical to yours, apart from the times that you had split up and separated over the last two hours. He’s gruff and fuming and his arms are crossed over his chest. If you weren’t still angry at him, you would tease him, but now wasn’t the time. The officer thanks him again before scurrying off.

Sam reappears and adjusts the gear on his arms before shaking his arms. “There’s a ping on Walker’s location. He’s at some abandoned warehouse in a wooded area in the outskirts of the city.”

You nod and slip the blanket off your back. Your exhaustion could wait. You jump from the ambulance and Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder. You quickly brush it off.

“You better think long and hard before you open your mouth, Barnes. If it’s anything other than “you’re coming with us,” keep it to yourself,” you snapped at him.

He stares at you with wide eyes and parted lips, and does exactly as you asked. He says nothing.

You walk in silence towards the outskirts of the city to John’s location. Your muscles burn with each step and you’re struggling to breathe, but you push through it. You have to for Sam and Bucky’s sake.

You hold your breath as you enter the warehouse. John’s back faces you and Sam throws an arm out in front of you to stop you from getting any closer. He turns to look at the three of you and you rock back on your heels.

“You don’t want to do this,” John said. His voice is casual and condescending.

Bucky rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, we do.”

The shield flies through the air just inches from your head. You double back as Bucky and Sam tag team against Walker.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight and sound of Bucky crashing into one of the electrical beams. He remains still and it sends you into a panic. You’d never seen him like that before.

You run straight towards Walker. You use your weight and momentum to leap up and choke him with your thighs, a move Natasha had taught you all those years ago. His fingers dig into the tops of your thighs with all his strength. Your own hands are too busy scratching and squeezing at his throat.

Walker throws his back into a steel pole and it makes you lose your grip on him. The force of the impact sends you crumbling to the ground. Now it hurts to breathe.

You land with a loud crash. You’re in a daze and can barely see straight. Black specks and stars cover the corners of your eyes as you fight off unconsciousness.

John stands above you, his arm pulled back with the shield in hand. He was going to kill you, just like he did to the Flag Smasher, and there’s nothing you could do to stop him.

You’re too weak and injured to fight. You’re on the brink of physical exhaustion. You can’t mask the pain any longer. You’re going to die before you have the chance to tell Bucky how you feel.

You throw your hands up, a futile attempt to stop the shield from blowing your brains out.

Sam knocks John off balance just as the shield moves towards your head. Sam uses the strength of his wings and jet pack to kick John in the stomach while Bucky knocks him from behind. For the first time, John’s on the floor.

Sam and Bucky use all their combined strength to rip the shield from Walker’s grasp. There’s a loud crack that fills your ears and he howls in pain as his hand loosens around the shield.

He swings at Bucky with his uninjured arm and Bucky punches him right in the face. This time John doesn’t get up and Bucky grabs the shield and tosses it beside Sam’s head as he lays on the floor near you. Several silent seconds pass as the three of you catch your breath and attempt to regain your bearings.

Bucky crouches in front of you and gingerly threads his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. You’re not bleeding anywhere on the top of your head.

Although you couldn’t see straight, you know his deep blue eyes find yours. Your head spins and you feel like you’re about to puke.

“The shield,” you slurred, “did you get it?”

His soft laughter fills your ears. He wipes away the blood collecting under his nose. “Yes.”

You hum in approval and your vision begins to clear up. You blink rapidly and Bucky carefully wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to your feet.

Yes, you were still mad at him, but the way he held you against his side as you walked out of the warehouse made your stomach flip. It nearly makes you forget about your argument just hours earlier.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #Bucky imagines #look after you #my writing

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punkrockmads · 4 years ago

Text

Rough Day

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader

Requested by @vultureinajumpsuit

Summary: When your time of the month comes a little early and leaves you extremely emotional, Abby does her best to remind you she's there for you through every struggle... even the most embarrassing ones.♡

"Jesus Christ. Owen, please shut up." You grumble, resting your head on the cafeteria table. You stare down at your shoes, blinking back tears. Owen has been going on for hours about the same abandoned restaurant he found a few days ago and it's starting to frustrate you.

"Alright then." Owen says, rolling his eyes. "Jeez, why are you so pissy today?" You know he's only messing with you, but your emotions are running wild today. You feel a sting of hurt in your chest. Without a word, you stand up and throw away the rest of your barely eaten chili. You ignore Abby's concerned glance as you turn away from the table and walk out of the cafeteria.

Today hasn't been a great one. Your monthly bloodbath had decided to come early, leaving you totally unprepared and upset. You tend to be extremely sensitive and frustrated due to the hormones and cramps that come along with the discomfort of bleeding for a week straight. Every little thing has been getting on your nerves today and everyone has noticed it, especially Abby.

You and Abby have been dating for about a year, giving her plenty of time to figure out why your moods change at the end of each month. She wonders why you haven't told her, especially considering you know when her cycle is, but she doesn't try to force you, thinking it might be uncomfortable for you to talk about.

"Hey, can you maybe tone it down?" Abby asks Owen after you leave.

"What?" Owen puts a hand to his chest, a look of mischief on his face. "I'm just messing around! Not my fault she's acting all moody!" Abby rolls her eyes, getting up to go find you. "Hey! I wasn't trying to be a dick!" Owen calls after her. Abby ignores him, leaving the cafeteria. She looks around the stadium. Where the hell did you go? The most logical place would be your room, right? She heads off in the direction of your room, thinking about ways she could cheer you up. Abby loves your smile. It makes her feel like she's laid eyes on an angel. She hasn't seen your smile all day.

As Abby walks to your room, she spots Nora down the hall. "Hey, Nora!" Abby waves Nora over with a smile.

"Hey. You looking for Y/N?" Nora asks. She knows perfectly well why Abby would be on the floor above her own.

"Yeah, you seen her?" Abby sighs, looking around the hall.

"Yeah, bumped into her while she was headed to her room." Nora replies, zipping up her olive green jacket. "She said she was gonna go see Alice and Bear. Hey, she looked a little tense. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, she's just having a rough day." Abby explains. "I better go find her." Nora puts her hand on Abby's arm as she walks past.

"You might wanna hurry." Nora warns. "It's gonna rain soon."

"Thanks, Nora." Abby nods, walking past her to your room. Thankfully, you had given her your spare key a few months ago. She can cut through your room and use the back door to get to the dog kennels faster. She unlocks the door, stepping into the room and quickly shutting and locking the door behind her. She can't help but pause and glance around your room.

Posters and photos of places all over the world litter the walls. A huge poster of the Eiffel Tower hangs above your bed. Abby smiles, remembering the many times you've talked about your dream to travel the world. The first night you told her about it, she made a silent promise to herself that she would take you all over the world and make your dream come true, no matter how much effort it took. A few dishes rest in the drying rack on the kitchen counter. Abby remembers the time you came to her room and immediately started washing the dishes she had forgotten to do because "you'll be happier to come home to a clean room after a long day."

"I'm getting sidetracked." Abby sighs to herself. She heads through the back door, locking it behind her. "Alright. Dog kennels." A few people greet Abby as she walks down the steps to the dog kennels. Everyone seems to be heading inside. Abby looks up at the sky, noticing the grey clouds that are only getting darker with every passing minute. Thunderstorm. She spots you in a kennel with Alice and Bear. Bear sits beside you as you play fetch with Alice. Abby greets the woman at the checkout desk and joins you in the kennel. You look up at her from your spot on the ground, offering her a tiny smile before looking back at Alice.

"Hey." Abby says, sitting beside you. She crosses her legs, copying your position.

"Hey." You reply, your knee brushing against hers. Alice drops the ball in your lap. Abby takes it before you can. She throws it to Alice, taking your hand.

"Wanna talk about what's been bugging you?" Abby asks, rubbing your knuckles with your thumb.

"Why do I feel like you already know?" You ask, looking at her with a raised brow.

"Because I do." Abby replies with a playful grin. "Why didn't you tell me you were on your period?"

"It's not important." You shrug, looking down at your lap. "And it's embarrassing." Abby's smile fades a little. Why would you find such a thing embarrassing?

"Hey." Abby places a hand on your cheek, moving you to look back at her. "It's important to me. You can always talk to me. If you ever need me to get you anything or you just need some comfort, don't be embarrassed to tell me. That shit sucks. But, if you tell me, I can do my best to make it a little more bearable. Yeah?"

"Yeah." You say with a small nod. Abby presses a soft kiss to your forehead, backing away to see a growing smile on your face.

"There's that smile." Abby says, her own smile growing wider once again. You roll your eyes, laughing a little. "Hey, what do you say we-" Just as Abby starts to speak, she's cut off by the booming sound of thunder. The violent noise seems to shake the Earth as rain starts to pour from the bleak sky. "Shit!" Abby grumbles. "We're gonna get soaked." Abby stands up, pulling you up with her. She's a little stunned to find you laughing. She gives you a questioning look as you struggle to hold back your laughs. "What?" She frowns, not understanding what you find so funny.

"Babe-" Your own giggle cuts you off. "You have a grass stain on the back of your pants!" Abby tries to look at her pants as you grab at the fabric near her thigh. "That is never gonna wash out!" You laugh, twisting the leg of her pants around a bit to show her. "Why did I immediately think of Shrek?!" You laugh harder at your own chaotic brain.

Abby begins to laugh with you, turning you around to look at the back of your pants. "Yours are stained too!" She chuckles, cheeks hurting from smiling. "We're so dumb!"

"We're a mess!" You say, your laughing dying down. "Okay, we should get inside." You take Abby's hand, guiding her out of the kennel. The two of you say goodbye to the dogs and run inside.

"Man." Abby sighs, locking the back door. She looks at the damp puddle on the floor from the rain you two have tracked in. "We need to dry off."

"Way ahead of you." You say, throwing a towel at her. She huffs a little as it hits her in the chest. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you grab a third towel and use it to wipe up the water on the floor. Thankfully, Abby left a pair of sweatpants and a tank top of hers at your place, meaning both of you could change into dry clothes. Once the two of you are done changing, you sit on the couch beside Abby, both of you wrapped up in a warm, fuzzy blanket. Abby uses her towel to dry her hair, water dripping from the end of her braid down her back in cold streaks. You place a hand on her knee.

"Thank you." You say, squeezing her knee lightly.

"For what?" Abby asks, setting the towel on the back of the couch. You lean into her side, wrapping your arms around her torso.

"Everything." You respond, unable to fully explain your gratitude. Abby smiles lovingly, putting an arm around you. She understands what you mean. She always does.

"You're welcome." She says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Wanna watch a movie?" She sits back against the couch, pulling you back with her so your head is resting on her chest.

"Shouldn't I apologize to Owen for yelling at him first?" You ask, feeling slightly bad for your outburst.

"Nah." Abby chuckles, reaching for the remote. "He can wait. Coraline is more important."

#abby anderson x reader #abbytlou #abby anderson #tlou #tlou2 #owen moore #owen tlou #nora harris #nora tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2

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monicashipslokius · 4 years ago

Text

Soulmates, Actually Pt 3

(read Part 1/Part 2)

Soulmates protect each other.

Loki paces the length of the small bathroom, turning after only two steps. On each turn they catch sight of themself in the mirror, as hard as they try not to. They don’t want to see the cowardice marring their own features. They don’t want to face themself, knowing they are standing here in relative safety at the cost of their soulmate’s.

Through the thin walls, Loki hears another pound on the front door. Mobius calls out, “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Loki stops pacing and presses their ear to the bathroom door, straining to hear outside of it.

After the creak of a door opening, Mobius says, “Can I help you?”

“Are you Mobius M. Mobius?” Thor has a weakness for Midgard and its people. Even as he speaks to Mobius now, his voice isn’t quite as booming as Loki is accustomed to.

“That’s me. Are you selling something?”

“I...? No. May I enter?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. I’m kind of busy, you know?”

“I see,” Thor says. “Wait! I’m looking for someone.”

“Sorry,” Mobius says. The door creaks again, loud, like it tried to close but was blocked by a hard shoulder.

“I must insist,” Thor says, and there’s the booming authority Loki expected. Heavy footfalls step into the apartment. Loki instinctively leans away from the bathroom door. “Do you live here, or is this a closet?”

“Hey, why does everyone think that,” Mobius says, his following footsteps much softer. “My apartment is not that small.”

“It is,” Thor says, blunt as ever, though perhaps his own time on Midgard changed him a small amount, because he immediately adds, “But... nice. Very... brown.” A long, awkward pause. “Seeing this... I feel apologies are in order. I cannot imagine Loki hiding here.”

Loki knows that their usual love of decadent flair is what’s saving them now, but the words still sting. It’s one thing for them to think disparagingly about their new home. It is entirely another for someone else to speak badly of it. Even Thor.

Maybe especially Thor.

“It seems silly now,” Thor says. “I had heard you are their soulmate.”

“It doesn’t seem all that silly,” Mobius says, voice much softer.

“I mean no offense,” Thor says. “Only that you are not their type.”

“Oh? Too old?”

Thor laughs. “Too human. But consider yourself lucky, friend."

"I don't know, I'd think it'd be okay to be the soulmate of a god."

"Not this god," Thor says, and that familiar self-hatred claws at Loki's ribcage from the inside out. They place their hand over their chest, physically pressing down on the feeling, but it does not stop.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mobius clips his words short.

Loki braces themself as Thor continues, "They never stay with anyone for long. They haven’t met a person yet who could hold their interest.”

“Maybe they just hadn’t met the right person,” Mobius says, stronger.

"Right people tend not to hang around my brother. You may have noticed that they are..." Thor pauses and Loki holds their breath. "A villain." Thor, at least, sounds pained to say it, though that is little comfort for Loki.

The word shouldn't hurt them. It is true. Despite their glorious purpose, they will never be seen as a hero, but only ever as the one who stands in the hero's way.

“Or instead," Mobius says, stronger still. Irritation oozes from his words. "Maybe they got so used to being seen as a villain that they started to think that’s all they are.”

The scratching in Loki's chest slows until it ceases entirely. Mobius.

But the calming effect of Mobius's defensive fury does not linger.

Thor holds his tongue a moment, and in that moment, a thick dread buds in the pit of Loki’s stomach. Thor may be oblivious at times, but he is not totally obtuse. And Mobius is angry enough for even him to take notice.

“Have you seen Loki, Mobius M. Mobius?”

“I think you should leave now,” Mobius says.

“So it’s true?” Thor asks, like he still doesn’t believe it. “You are Loki’s soulmate?”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“They must be deceiving you. Tell me where they are, and I will take them back to Asgard. Then you will be safe.”

“Loki’s not going anywhere with you,” Mobius says, stupidly brave. Stupidly perfect.

Outside a storm brews. Thunder rumbles the walls, as loud as Thor’s voice. “Do not stand in my way, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“No, you don’t get to order me around,” Mobius says. “You barge into my home and try to kidnap my soulmate. You didn’t even do it at a reasonable hour. We were asleep!”

“I am a god.” Lightning cracks outside the window, the light so bright, it flashes under the door of the bathroom. “You are a human.”

Mobius huffs out a breath. “I’m not giving them up. You’ll just have to kill me.”

Every nerve in Loki’s body, every pulse in their brain, the very breath in their lungs - all scream, No!

The bathroom door flies off its hinges from the force of Loki pushing through. Their daggers are in their hands, their armor has replaced their silk pajamas - there is no room for softness here.

Mobius glances behind him from where he’s standing, blocking the bathroom from Thor in the kitchen. “You broke the door,” Mobius says, entirely too calm for a man who was just about to throw his life away.

“We are going to discuss your blatant disregard for your own fragile life,” Loki tells him, stalking forward to Mobius’s side.

“I had it under control,” Mobius says.

Loki sucks in a deep breath to try to tamper down their roaring rage. “No longer will you risk yourself for me.”

“No, sorry, Loki.” Mobius crosses his arms. “You don’t get to boss me around either. I told you, soulmates protect each other. And that’s that.”

“You stupid, brave, impossible man.”

“Dying for you would be worth it.”

“And what am I to do at that point? Hm? Bid your corpse a fond farewell and move along?”

Mobius startles, like he hadn’t thought ahead that far. “Yeah, I guess.”

If Loki wasn’t holding daggers, they would grip him by the shoulders and shake him. “You have no idea what you are to me. You have no perception of how long I have waited for you. For us. For this tiny little room. For everything we shared last night. And all that we will share.”

Mobius’s eyes widen. “Loki -”

“No, Mobius. You will not be throwing your life away. Not now. Not ever. Not while I have strength enough to hold a blade.”

Mobius blinks. The surprise on his face lasts a moment longer, then softens entirely into fondness. “Let’s go to the store later. Buy some stuff. Spruce this place up a little. We can get a plant or two. And maybe a new bathroom door.”

Loki exhales, and the harshest of their anger slips away. “Only if we also buy you new clothes.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my clothes?” Mobius is smiling now.

Loki almost mirrors it. Until he remembers their thunderous brother occupying the entire minuscule kitchen. Thor seems to lack his usual righteousness. Instead, he looks between Loki and Mobius like he has no idea what to make of them. His mouth hangs open but no sound comes out.

A moment, Thor tries, “Brother, you...” He closes his mouth. Opens it. “You... actually care for this little man?”

Loki’s answer comes easier than even they expected, “Yes.”

“I’m not that little,” Mobius says.

Outside the storm clears away and starlight returns. Inside, Thor lowers his hammer to his side, no longer holding it ready to fight. He stares at Loki for a long moment. “We thought you were dead. We mourned you.”

Loki’s impulse is to argue. They aren’t yet numb to the pain of Odin’s deception. Of Loki’s own monstrous truth.

But instead of drudging forward that pain, Loki draws strength from Mobius beside them. From the comfort of their home. From the promise of buying new drapes and bed sheets.

“I’m not going back,” Loki says, hating the way their voice cracks. Mobius inches closer to their side, and they stand taller.

“You cannot rule Midgard,” Thor says.

Loki glances at Mobius, who gives them a soft smile.

“Mostly,” Loki says, “I want to buy drapes.”

Mobius’s smile widens, and he dips his head, as if to hide it. Loki loses themself in the sight of such softness and warmth, until they remember their brother again.

Thor watches them, his confusion palpable. “This is not at all as father said it was.”

Loki tenses at the mention of Odin.

“A lot’s different since yesterday,” Mobius says. “Dubuque can really change a person, you know?” Mobius winks at Loki, and a fresh wave of comfort rolls through them.

“Yes,” Loki says. “Dubuque.”

“Perhaps I could return without you,” Thor says, confusion shifting gradually into something more sure. “If you hand over the tesseract.”

Loki pointedly refrains from glancing at the coat closet. As, to Loki’s surprise, does Mobius. Surely he had seen them place the scepter within. Surely he could parse together what the tesseract could be.

“You wouldn’t need it to buy drapes.” Thor’s grip tightens on the handle of Mjolnir, but he does not yet raise it again.

Loki’s body tenses like a bowstring. There is no way out of this then, without a fight. “You have no comprehension of its power, brother. Of what I could have, what I could achieve with it in my possession. With what I’ve been promised.”

“Promised?” Thor asks. “Promised by who?”

A chill creeps over Loki’s skin, inch by slow inch. They think of the creatures that invade their mind, that found them when they fell from the Bifrost.

You could have this, they whisper, even now. You are nothing without this.

“Loki?” Mobius whispers. “Are you okay?”

Shaking their mind free from the dark grasp, Loki thoughts travel instead to those same creatures wrapping Mobius in their viciousness. Tearing him down. Exploiting his deepest vulnerabilities.

The cold runs deep, all consuming.

With the tesseract still in Loki’s possession, maybe they could protect Mobius. Or, the opposite. Maybe those creatures will never stop hunting them until Loki finally does as they command.

When it was Loki alone, forgotten and fallen, following the icy commands was no question, when both vengeance and a crown were promised.

But Loki is no longer alone.

To Loki’s surprise, concern covers Thor’s face as well, and he has taken a step closer, hand half-lifted, as if in a halted attempt to reach out to them.

“The tesseract will not bring you happiness, Loki,” Thor says, and motions toward Mobius. “Not in the way your soulmate can. You must make a choice.”

“They don’t have to chose,” Mobius says. “I’m staying with them, regardless of what they want to do.”

“But they must,” Thor tells him. “I will be leaving here with either Loki or the tesseract. I’d prefer to do it without a fight.”

Mobius takes a step forward. “I already told you, Loki isn’t going anywhere.”

“If forced, I will take you both to Asgard,” Thor says.

Loki thinks of Mobius standing before Odin, of all the brave, protective things he would say to the All-Father in Loki’s defense. And Loki thinks of how fast Odin would cut him down, Loki’s soulmate or not.

“No,” Loki says.

Soulmates protect each other.

Loki disappears their daggers, then goes to the closet and draws open the door. They reach through Mobius’s brown suits and retrieve the scepter. It’s cold in their hand.

They could grab Mobius and teleport away. Together, they could go anywhere. Thor would need time to track them down. But they’d have to keep running. They’d never be able to stop.

Loki thinks of Mobius, sweating in the desert. Humans are weak, fragile things. Mobius would not be able to sustain that kind of life.

The scepter, the creatures, whisper to Loki, He will die anyway. Why shouldn't you have more?

"All my life, I’ve been in your shadow,” Loki says to Thor. Thor lifts his hammer, readying for the fight to come. “This is my chance to carve my own path. To find my own throne. The Midgardians are hapless. They are in desperate need of a ruler.”

Loki looks at Mobius and finds him watching Thor, body tense like he intends to jump in the way if Thor were to attack. He will die anyway.

“There is no happiness in the promise of a throne, Loki.” Thor frowns, and after a brief, sideways glance at Mobius, his eyes turn sad. “We have waited the same for a soulmate. You have found yours, while I am still waiting. I ask you, who lives in envy of who?”

A new feeling twists inside Loki - something like... pity? For Thor? No. Impossible. Thor has had a life filled with all of his whims being catered to. Ever the favorite. The favored.

Yet.

Thor has no Mobius of his own.

He will die anyway. But. Not yet. Not yet.

“To be honest,” Mobius says, drawing Loki’s attention. “Humans are kind of a drag. We fight all the time, can’t agree on anything. I know that’s half why you think you can fix it all, but really, it sounds like a bigger headache than it’s worth.” He shrugs. “You and I, we’ll do whatever you want. I’ve got your back 100%. But... if you were King of Earth, do you get any vacation days? Cause I got some places I really want to take you.”

Looking at Mobius, hearing his words, listening to the steady cadence of his voice, Loki warms from the inside out.

“We need to go to the beach. You saw my jetski picture, right?” Mobius turns to Thor. “You ever been on a jetski?”

Thor blinks at him. “...No?”

“You’ll love it. It’s so much fun. Out on the waves, just you and the ocean - with the wind in your hair, and the sun all bright.” Mobius turns his smile back to Loki, and Loki doubts any sunshine could ever be as brilliant as him. “What do you think, Loki?”

The cruel whispers grow dim. Thoughts of, You are nothing without a crown, are replaced with, What worth is a crown without him?

The chill burns away, until the scepter is too cold, too painful to hold.

Loki moves closer to the kitchen. Thor raises his hammer. Mobius hurries forward.

But everyone stops when Loki surrenders the scepter - the tesseract - to Thor. As soon as it is gone from their hand, Loki feels a heavy weight lifted away. The chill leaves entirely, and their mind is silent once more.

“You’ve made the right choice, brother,” Thor says. They lower Mjolnir to the ground to look closer at the scepter.

“Odin will not be pleased when you return without me,” Loki says.

Thor hums. “I will pass along your promise to behave yourself.”

“I made no such promise.” With Loki’s new weightlessness, a small, sly smirk slips onto their lips. It's shaky and unsure, but Thor doesn't mention it.

Thor slides his gaze to Mobius. “I think you will have your hands too full to do otherwise, with how quickly this one throws himself into trouble.” He pitches his voice low. “I like him. He’s small, but brave.”

Pride swells in Loki. They didn’t need Thor’s approval, but having it...

“Mobius M. Mobius!” Thor walks to Mobius and draws him into a tight hug. “Now my brother. I await the day our paths cross again!”

Mobius awkwardly pats him on the back. “Yeah, sure! Sounds great.”

As they break, Loki begins to steer Thor toward the door. Thor looks as if he also wants to wrap Loki in a hug, but thankfully thinks better of it. Instead, he simply says, "We will see each other again."

"We will," Loki says, a promise. And for now, it is enough.

Thor starts forward, when Mobius calls out, “Wait, you forgot your hammer.”

Loki and Thor both turn away from the door, toward the kitchen - where Mobius stands, hand gripping Mjolnir’s handle, holding it up off the ground. He brings it forward and hands it to Thor, who stares at him, mouth agape.

Mobius says, “Surprisingly light?”

Loki bites back a smile. They knew their soulmate was no ordinary mortal.

Thor looks at Mobius like he’s seeing him for the first time. “Only to those who are worthy. You are small in stature, but not in heart, Mobius M. Mobius.”

“Uh, thanks?” Mobius says. Softer, he adds, “I’m really not that small.”

When Thor is gone, with the slightly damaged front door bolted behind him, Mobius turns to Loki and says, “Told you I’d get rid of him.”

Loki reaches out, grabs Mobius by the shoulders, and pulls him into their embrace. They do not let go for a long time.

Mobius holds them back, nose tucked into the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder. “I would have followed you,” he says, voice muffled. “You want to be king? We’d make it happen. You didn’t have to give it up.”

Loki will tell him of the whispers and the cold, of the dark promises made. Later. “Perhaps another time,” they say. “Plenty of life to find a throne of my own.” Though as the words leave them, they know they are only half true. Plenty of time for Loki. No time at all for Mobius. The creatures no longer whisper in Loki's mind but they still hear their mocking, He will die.

“I was thinking we could get a couple chairs while we’re out.”

Loki can’t help and doesn’t stop their grin, even as their heart aches. “See? My fortune is already changing.”

“I’ll buy you the best throne,” Mobius says. “You ever heard of La-Z-Boy?”

Loki closes their eyes, presses their forehead to Mobius's shoulder, and wonders how, with the cruel inevitability of human mortality, they will ever go on without this man.

#i wrote this #lokius #wowki #loki x mobius #fair warning this is pretty long if you pop open the readmore #ao3 link will come tomorrow #thor /#part 3 of 5 #soulmate au #avengers 1 divergence

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