#[great painting it even looks like him! just human! kept the scars and glowing eyes too. :'')]

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Golden Hour {Hawks | Keigo Takami}

She felt so fortunate to have seen the amazing sights that she did—Tokyo lit up at night in the summer and buzzing with activity far below where she stood; flying high around the Three Holy Mountains in the seasons when their splendor was the most breathtaking; the vast expanse of the ocean spread wide in front of her.

But by far the sight she felt the most privileged to have seen and continued to see was the sight of her husband’s bright, warm features backed by the golden hue of the late afternoon sun.

Honey blonde hair haloed by the rays streaming through their balcony window and framed by the rich crimson of his wings painted him as a divine sculpture, truly a man that deserved to be gazed upon in reverence. A real hero in so many regards with his greatness achieved through his training by the Commission, she was the only one who really understood the greatness he had been born with.

Model-like looks hid beneath them a heart that was capable of so much love and tenderness, a person so valuable he had been hidden away by others in power who wanted to control him as something they could build and manipulate to need. He had broken free after turning twenty-three, a bird set free of the too-small cage they kept him in for the largest portion of his life, and while his true self could bleed through in some ways, Hawks held barely a fraction of the human worth of Keigo Takami.

Keigo was the man whose insecurity over battle scars could eat him alive while he told her how lucky he was to have someone as attractive as her, blemishes and all. He was paranoid of his hero image and the fluctuating rankings that had yet to affect him but “it’s only a matter of time” because he wasn’t young and single anymore. He was afraid of losing speed as his career went on and the potential lives lost that would follow.

He was also the man who remembered that on the day they met she was wearing a purple gingham dress and speaking with other sponsors over a plate of maguro finger food. He was more than happy to use his feathers to entertain her younger family members during gatherings, excited to use them for something other than violence. And Keigo Takami was the one before her, bathed in the rich colors of the setting sun.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said, catching his attention.

He turned to her, lips parted slightly in surprise. “I—you… think I’m beautiful?”

“I do,” she replied with a smile as she reached out to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I think you’re beautiful like this, with the sun hitting you just right. It makes you glow.”

His cheeks dusted pink and a small smile curled onto his lips.

“It’s one of my favorite ways to see you,” she added, voice sultry as the hand in his hair traced from his temple down his face, cupping his cheek. He leaned into the touch, his eyes boring into hers.

“What are the other ways you like to see me?” he asked lowly.

“There’s only one other,” she admitted. Her hand dropped from his cheek and down to the loose collar of his old tshirt, hooking into the fabric and tugging lightly. “Take this off and you’re halfway there.”

He slipped his arms from the sleeves and pulled his head out of the top, two red feathers appearing on either side of him to help guide the material’s large openings on the back over his wings to be tossed aside. Running his fingers through his hair, he cocked his head with a smirk.

“Halfway there,” he said cheekily.

With a smile she uncurled her legs from beneath her and rose up from the couch, turning towards the hallway that led to their bedroom. Reaching a hand out to him, he placed his palm in hers and stood to follow as she began walking. Once in their bedroom he closed the door behind him, an unnecessary task but one that he always made sure to do; inside was for the two of them only, safe and warm away from anyone else.

He dropped his hand and held her steady by the shoulders when she tried to turn around, his chest pressed against her back. Light kisses were placed at the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, and her head lolled back to rest against his collar bone.

She sighed and feeling the smile against her skin, grinned. “You’re still only halfway there, feathers.”

He barked out a laugh, his breath fanning out over the back of her neck as he pulled back slightly. Large, warm palms snuck below the hem of her shirt, smoothing over the skin of her stomach and tracing the familiar shape of her body, indulging himself only for a moment before removing her top and leaving her upper half bare.

“Let a man take his time,” he said in a hushed tone, his hands coming up to cup her chest as he pressed against her once more. A slow roll of his hips and a firm squeeze to her chest let any argument she could have had die on her tongue.

Instead she let out a quiet moan and arched her back at the feeling of his movements. “Mmm, Keigo…”

“Keep saying my name like that,” he groaned, stepping them forward to the bed.

She followed his lead, crawling up the large expanse of pillows and blankets before turning and lying back. At the sight of her husband moving up towards her, his entire body bathed in the golden light once more from their bedroom window, her breath hitched.

“Keigo,” she murmured, surging forward to throw her arms around his neck and pull him into a hard kiss. He fell onto his forearms above her, the majority of his weight supported by his arms but still a pleasant and welcome press against her body.

Desperate breaths between the clashing of teeth and tongues grew steadily heavier, and one of his hands drifted down to tug at her underwear and sweatpants. She shifted her hips to allow him to push them further down her legs and kicked them aside as soon as they were low enough, laying herself completely bare below him.

Still holding her close, his hand drifted back between her hips where he could feel just how much she wanted him. A cute little gasp escaped her at the first brush of his fingers on her clit and her arms tightened their hold around him, her nails forming shallow indents across his shoulders.

He kept his lips on hers to swallow the pleasure-filled noises as his thumb drew languid circles on her clit and his fingers curled into her, moving in a slow rhythm to prepare her for him. Though their more passionate moments were always his favorite, he could honestly say that the buildup was a close contender. To be able to coax her closer and closer to the edge with only his fingers made pride swell in his chest, knowing that he was the only one who could do it and would continue to be the only one for the rest of their lives.

The whines that had begun quietly grew louder as his fingertips found the perfect spot within her and he made sure to hit it at least every other motion. When she tightened around his fingers and her breathing sped up, her heart hammering in her chest hard enough for him to feel it, he gradually lessened the pressure against her clit and pulled his fingers from her completely.

He ground his clothed hips down against hers as he slowed their pace, dragging out the moment to savor the way they fit together so well even like this. But he knew it wouldn’t satisfy them for long, and with one last swipe of his tongue against her bottom lip he pulled back and stood to remove his own underwear and sweats, his wings fluffing out behind him.

“How many times have I had you like this?” he asked breathlessly, his hands sliding up her calves. “How many times have I been lucky enough to see you spread out so pretty for me?”

Her lips quirked up in a tiny smile as a pink blush dusted her cheeks; his words never failed to make her feel as if she were the only woman in the world he could ever look at with such love and passion. Early in their relationship she worried that it was an act like the ones he had put on for so many years because of the Commission’s training, but over time she began to understand that the depth of his emotion were so foreign to him that he truly did hold such wonder when expressing them.

“Could keep you in this bed forever,” he continued as he came to drape himself over her again. “What d’ya say we see if we can have us a chick or two, huh? Fill this nest up with little ones?”

“We will,” she murmured, “but not yet, Keigo.”

He traced a finger down her upper arm, the flash of disappointment not going unnoticed as he hummed, knowing that beneath her skin lay the tiny device in the way of his plans. “One year, two months.”

“Plenty of time to perfect our technique,” she said coyly, her intention to bring him out of his head.

A grin blooming across his face let her know that she was successful, and soon enough the grin was hidden in the crook of her neck and those same teeth were scraping against her skin. She whimpered at the feeling and a low, pleased rumble vibrated within his chest; with him pressed against her it harmonized with the wild beating of her heart.

With one hand between her and the mattress cradling her close, he slid his other hand down her side to prop her hips up so he could position himself properly.

“So good for me,” he whispered as his hips rolled forward until they were flush against her own, his wings lowering around them as if to hide their intimate moment from the rest of the world.

Her legs came to wrap around his waist to pull him just that much deeper, one thigh still supported by his hand and she moaned softly, causing him to look up from her neck to see the blissful expression on her face—eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him through her lashes and her lips parted in a tiny ‘o’ shape.

Below him, she could only look on in awe as the dying light of day continued to filter through the window and highlight the man she felt privileged to call her husband.

“You’re so beautiful, the only one for me,” he told her, pulling back only to push forward and set a slow, steady pace. Gentle kisses were peppered across her cheeks as each time he filled her completely he paused to grind his hips against hers, the sensual drag against her clit absolutely perfect.

His name fell from her lips like an incantation, small gasps not breaking the spell of encouragement each syllable of his name created. The slow pace was maddening but was building the pleasure pooled low in her stomach.

“I love you,” she murmured breathlessly, catching his lips in a desperate kiss, “I love you, Keigo.”

A shudder ran through him and his rhythm faltered only to resume with faster thrusts of his hips, the new pace causing her to arch into him more. He held her tight against him, grinding more harshly each time he bottomed out within her.

“Fuck, I love you,” he panted as his nose bumped against hers. “I love you so much. Are you close, sweetheart? You’ve got me so close.”

“Please, Keigo,” she whimpered, clutching him harder and feeling the coiled muscles working beneath his skin.

The hand on her thigh moved between her legs, two fingers easily finding her clit and giving firm strokes to match the speed of his hips, driving her that much closer to her peak. “I’ve got you, baby, I know what you need.”

It only took the combination of his movements another moment before she was crying out his name and digging her nails hard into his shoulders, pure bliss washing over her completely. The sensation of her release around him threw Keigo over the edge too, his hips pressed flush against her own as he gave everything he had to her. His wings jerked back, flaring out to their full length in a beautiful arc behind him.

Together they lay amongst the rumpled sheets, chests heaving almost in synch as they basked in the floating afterglow of the moment they had shared. Golden hues continued to dance along the walls of their bedroom, yet still the most precious thing in the room was her husband. She wasn’t sure if anything could ever shine brighter than Keigo Takami.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Grey Palace

So this a book I’m really hoping to actually finish! It’s a horror slasher story, but it’s set on a cruise ship. I’m posting the first chapter for my followers to read if they’re interested in following along with the creation and storyline! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

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A sleek grey seagull was perched on the wooden guard rail around the churning green ocean. It shifted from foot to pink foot, ruffling unruly feathers, and squinted beady black eyes up at the giant ship looming above it. It looked suspicious of the vessel, and even more suspicious of the people boarding its mass.

The Grey Palace was the greatest cruise ship to ever exist--or so all the Yelp reviews claimed. It included casinos and spas and waterparks and food! But only if you pay for it, because it’s not like you already paid $425 for a single ticket for your four person family. 

It was a colossal sea beast, made out of the finest and toughest extra-strength steel plates and boasting the largest size of a cruise ship in the whole world at a staggering 1,854.25 feet in length and 265.74 feet in height. It had a tonnage of 230,000 gross tons, outweighing every other ship in the business. Its hull could shatter icebergs, its bow could split the sea in two, its propellers were more powerful than any jet or rocket in the entire world. Luxurious lounges and steamy spas promised the best relaxation, the waterpark and Kid’s Club proclaimed full entertainment for children, and the restaurants provided the best food on the seven seas. It got its name from the lustrous grey color it was painted, reflecting rainbows all across the body of the ship. 

Everybody wanted to board the floating Palace, and only a select few got the invitation into the Aquatic Kingdom.

But in this case, a “select few” meant 8,700 people.

The boarding dock was clamored with passengers. Families that made the mistake of keeping their luggage on them instead of turning it in to the porters, families that trying to keep all their kids from running off, families already bickering over what they were going to do first, all packed into one area that was treacherously close to the ocean and a giant ship that would easily be able to sweep a fallen victim underneath its mass. One woman had her toddler on a child leash like it was a dog, tugging on the rope every once and awhile when the kid tried to run off. Another mom was herding her family in close to take a selfie, earning disgruntled noises from the children when they had to squint and smile up into the sun. A man was loudly talking to a video camera he was holding, most likely making a vlog for YouTube that would only probably get 67,000 views and 1,230 likes. Worryingly close to the edge of the dock was a pair of kids, pointing into the water and calling out what they saw while their parents obliviously chatted with some other people. Several porters were furiously helping everyone board, sweat beading their brows as they worked diligently. 

The seagull watched them all, raising its beak in a haughty manner. It seemed miffed by the intrusion of so many humans in its territory, but didn’t have the strength or size to do anything about it, so it just gazed judgmentally from a distance. Its dark eyes shifted over to the girl looking back at it, then screeched in surprise when she was shoved, jerking open its narrow wings and leaping away into the air.

  “Come ON, Violet!!” Ethan shrieked.

Violet staggered to the side, nearly tottering into someone behind her while she attempted to regain her balance. She clenched her fists, growling softly in her throat for a moment before letting her anger dissolve away.

  “I’m coming,” She said.

  “You’re being SLOWWWW!!” Aiden yelled, earning a few glances from other people because of his volume.

  “Sorry,” Violet muttered, hunching her shoulders in.

Her family bustled across the port, getting closer and closer to the gangway with each, but before they could cross the threshold, a ship photographer jumped into their path, wearing a painfully cheery grin and brandishing a bulky camera.

  “Would you like to take a family photo before boarding?” She asked, waving an arm to a photobooth set up. The backdrop was of The Grey Palace sailing.

  “Can we, Mama?” Felicity asked Deandra eagerly, tugging at her arm.

Deandra smiled down at her. “Of course, dear!”

They hustled over to the backdrop. Violet attempted to follow, but Tobias stood in her path and firmly said, “Not you.”

Violet backed away obediently, not bothering to argue.

She watched as the seven of them posed for a photo, the epitome of a white, rich family. Deandra was fifty-four, but she was constantly being praised for how good she looked for her age. Unblemished, glowing ivory skin, clear of any wrinkles, and dyed champagne blonde hair. Her neck and wrists were loaded with jewelry, but her hawk-like amber eyes were sharper and brighter than the diamonds she wore, always locating every one of Violet’s flaws.

Tobias was like her toy, even though he was older, bigger, and burlier than she was. He was as nicely dressed as his wife, clad in a tweed jacket despite the summer Whittier heat and expensive jeans and a gold watch that cost more than all their tickets combined, but he still had the face of a lizard, dull blue eyes, and brittle, greying hair that he would slather with enough gel to start a fire. But he was rich, being one of the top congressmen in the state, and had a sharp-tongue that pleased Mother, both audibly and physically, and was very easy to walk all over. Violet guessed that was why Mother even kept him around.

Carly was their pride and joy. She had a supermodel body, thin and tan, with long, luscious blonde hair and the bright blue eyes of Father. She was pretty, but cruel, like a diamond wrapped in barbed wire. Her words were always loaded with venom, manipulative and cunning and bearing no mercy or guilt over what she said. She was harsh and cold, which was probably why she still wasn’t married at twenty-seven, and when Violet told her this after her favorite paints were stolen, she beat her into unconsciousness. Violet still had the long, winding scar across her left side from when she had been lashed with the sharp edge of a broken flower vase. 

Tobias Jr., or just Toby, was the exact opposite of the man he was named after. Out of all her siblings, he was Violet’s favorite. He was a coward and a boot-licker, but he was genuine and had a good heart. He got Violet into The Walking Dead and once cleaned off her back when Father whipped her with his belt after she talked back over something controversial, but provided little help against her mistreatment, being just as scared to stand up to their parents. Still, it was a step up over everyone else. His dark amber eyes were doe-like and his brown hair was always unruly no matter how much he brushed it. In a way, he almost reminded Violet of the seagull, watchful and cautious.

Felicity was Mother’s mini me and Father’s little princess. Her wavy hair showed the natural hue of Mother’s, honey blonde, but her eyes were the deep blue of Father’s. She was incredibly slick and deceptive, as well as exceptionally greedy, always able to get whatever she wants whenever she wants it. She was dripping with as much jewelry as Mother was, maybe even more, and looked at everyone else with great disdain, disgusted at how ugly they were compared to her. Her voice was like the squeal of a pig, and she often preened herself in any reflective surface that could serve as a mirror. At age eleven, she already thought she was the queen of the world.

Aiden and Ethan were nothing but imps. Violet didn’t even know why Mother and Father had them; there was no point in their existence. They just lived to take up space and time and money, but their parents treated them like they were heirs to the throne. They were near identical, with dirty blonde hair in a mushroom-like shape around their heads and eyes so dark they looked brown instead of amber. All they seemed to know how to do was eat food and cause chaos, often forcing themselves into Violet’s personal space just to annoy her. 

That was the Nicotero family. The rich, flawless Nicotero family, perfectly happy without the illegitimate child chained to them by blood.

Violet, the kid who the congressman cheated on his wife to have on accident, named after a flower because her father couldn’t think of anything better than the plant he saw squashed on the side of the sidewalk when he was fleeing the scene after stealing her from her mother’s breast mere days after being born.

Violet, the girl with weirdly pale grey eyes that no one else in her family had and hands that never seemed to stop fidgeting with things and an overly anxious mind that contrasted with a bursting internal temper.

Violet, the library for all the should have’s-could have’s-would have’s, an encyclopedia of everything that shouldn’t have happened, an example of what her siblings were not supposed to be.

Violet, the fifteen-year-old with vibrant petals curled towards her family, but poisonous roots lying beneath, just like her name’s sake.

  “Say ‘cruise ship’!”

  “CRUISE SHIP!!!”

The camera flashed and the photo was taken.

Violet blinked her eyes; they were sore in the sunlight. She shifted from foot to foot as she waited for her family to finish up at the photobooth. She wondered if they would put it on the fridge like all the other photographs she wasn’t a part of. They never put up the things she was in.

  “Come on! Come on! Come on!” Felicity yipped, pulling on Father’s arm. “I wanna get on already!!!”

  “We’re coming, we’re coming,” Father chuckled. He somehow had all the patience in the world when dealing with the squealing Felicity, but once yelled at Violet for taking too long to tie her shoes.

The Nicotero family pushed their way through the crowd to the closest gangway, shoulder checking other people and trodding over feet without pity in the process. Violet did her best to apologize to anyone they disturbed, seeing as no one else was, so she walked down the walkway and glass doors slightly turned around, and when she faced forward again, she got her first glimpse of the place where she would be spending the next one hundred days.

The main atrium was a giant room with a high-vaulted ceiling and looked like it had been carved out of glass; every surface was shiny and spotless. There were spiral staircases and grand steps and visible catwalks coiled around the walls, all bursting with activity. A marble fountain with intricately designed leaping dolphins was burbling softly in the center of the room, and King the Silver Polar Bear, the mascot of The Grey Palace, was standing in front of it, waving to passengers as they came in and occasionally taking photos with kids who came up to him. Violet must have been staring for a bit too long because he spotted her and pointed, then waved her over. Violet shook her head and said, “No thanks” but Felicity shoved her over with a shrill, “Go say hi, Violet! Someone actually wants to see you!”

Violet staggered forward, feeling that sensation of rage bubble up inside of her again, but, like before, it dissipated rather quickly, as there was nothing she could do. She merely sighed and looked up at the large grey bear now looming over her.

  “Umm… Hi.” Violet said awkwardly. What were you even supposed to say to the mascots? Especially when you have to talk to them against your will?

King waved cheerfully. The head of the suit was set in a petrified, open-mouth smile and the eyes were permanently wide and glowing with glee. It was almost unnerving in a way. Was the person underneath the mass of grey fur as happy as the skin it was wearing?

  “Uhh… Sorry, I don’t really know what to say.” Violet said, cringing internally. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. 

King made a dismissive hand gesture, then pat her head. The action felt profoundly awkward, but Violet was polite and said goodbye before shuffling back over to her family with her head ducked. Felicity and the twins exploded into high-pitched giggles.

  “Violet. Don’t run off.” Mother said sharply, staring down her nose as Violet.

  “Yes, Mother,” Violet muttered.

Carly suddenly looked up from her phone. “We should go get drinks. The rooms probably aren’t ready yet.”

Mother nodded. “Good idea.”

She led the pack through a wide hallway, whisking by other passengers like she was the queen of the Aquatic Kingdom. On the way, Toby shuffled over to Violet.

  “I don’t like those people in costumes,” He said. “Gives me the creeps.”

Violet peered up at him. “How old are you?”

  “Oi! Rude!” Toby elbowed her gently. He never tried to purposely hurt her. “So… What do you think?”

Violet gazed around the hallway. It was lit up brightly, casting colorful shadows across the painted walls. 

  “It’s nice,” Violet said. “Nicer than any place I’ve been to. Aside from the house, of course.”

She had been shocked when Mother told her about the cruise a week before her freshman year ended. It was going to be a big family trip, and she was actually invited. Usually she was left out of these things. Being alone at their mansion for a week or so at a time while the rest of her family was out travelling or on vacation had been a normal affair ever since she was eleven.

Toby frowned for a moment at that, then quickly said, “It’s gonna be fun.”

They passed through a set of glass doors and entered onto one of the many decks. Surprisingly, there weren’t too many people out yet, as everyone was probably still getting checked in or exploring. Mother glided over to a canopy bar and began ordering. 

They probably spent an hour at that bar, sipping brightly colored cocktails and chatting avidly over their plans for the trip. Violet stayed out of it, of course. She sat at the smooth wooden counter, twirling a pink drink umbrella and scrawling mindless thoughts in a small purple notebook to pass the time. 

An elbow as pointy as a dagger jabbed into her back at one point, making her pen streak across her page, leaving a permanent black like through the written words. She clenched her jaw and turned around.

  “Yes?”

  “Come ON!” Felicity said. “We’re going to go eat!”

  “Didn’t you hear us talking?” Father squinted at her.

  “Sorry. I must have dozed off.” Violet said.

Carly scoffed. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

Nobody said anything against this. Violet didn’t, either. 

They went to the buffet where lunch was waiting, and Mother grumbled about how many people there were, but they eventually sat down to eat, their plates piled with food. Violet got more than she intended, but ate everything, just now realizing how hungry she was. She got judgemental looks from her family, but she did her best to just ignore them.

After lunch, they finally checked into their cabins. They got the suites, of course.

Mother, Father, and the twins got the largest room, one with a queen bed and bunk beds for Aiden and Ethan. Carly and Felicity room together, while Violet stayed with Toby. It was fine with her, really. She rather be with her older brother than any of the others.

The rest of the day was spent preparing for the trip. Toby took the twins and Felicity to get signed up for the Kid’s Club, while Carly hooked up with some friends also on the cruise, Mother went to make reservations for the spa, and Father already began drinking. 

Violet stayed in her cabin, writing away in her notepad while listening to the TV drone on. She finally got up and went out when the sun began to set, unknowingly stumbling right into a departure party on the main deck.

Music blasted as thousands of bodies writhed around together. Several people were in the pool, splashing around loudly, while others were watching the entertainment shows with great interest. Violet couldn’t stand all the noise, so she ventured to the back of the ship and watched as the land slowly disappeared on the horizon. 

A man leaned against the railing a few feet away from her as the golden-orange sunset was starting to turn a bright red color. After he blew out a wisp of smoke from the lit cigarette he had, he said, “This is gonna be one hell of a trip.”

As the first firework was set off at the deck, Violet replied, “You can say that again.”

[perfect-fourth]

Hⁱˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵃʳʳᵃⁿᵍᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵃᵈ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ᵉᵃˢʸ ᵗᵒ ᵒʳᶜʰᵉˢᵗʳᵃᵗᵉ.

A year had gone and past in conjunction with his arrival to Piltover-Zaun, his third reappearance in the twin cities and certainly not his last, had he any say in the matter.  Getting out of Tuula again had been simple enough.  Even without the old man commanding the Navori, they found use of him and his methods; and for the most part, left him to his own macabre devices when he completed whatever menial task they set him on.  It was never anything that created conflict with his own intentions, and they knew better than to ask anything of him that did, at least without the former Eye of Twilight to tell them what to do.  He didn’t much care about their cause; be it for better or worse, so long as it gave him a means to further his own.  

  It wasn’t that he especially enjoyed the region; the constant whirring and buzzing of machinery was a distraction rather than a calming white noise, and more often than not he found himself falling ill to the smothering smog and toxins that permeated the atmosphere, no matter how careful he was to protect himself and cleanse his numerous temporary habitats.  His only solace was found in the part-time work he’d taken as a keeper for one of the many greenhouses that spotted the city, little pockets of foliage in an otherwise bleak and repugnant landscape that offered little hope to anyone who had the misfortune of living there.  Truly, he couldn’t have been the only one who saw the irony in the unholy green glow of the Sunken City, a color representing life to taunt a place overwrought with death.

  Of course, there was also his art, the driving force behind his motivation to return to such a technological dystopia.  As uncomfortable as it was, there was no denying the grotesque beauty in this place.  Twisted iron and even more twisted people, Jhin had felt for a long time now that he hadn’t realized his full artistic potential in his previous installments.  His work back then had left much to be desired, especially in the case of...

No, no, no, no.  Now was not the time to think about Zed, or Shen, or that wretched girl who had systematically ruined his vision.  Tonight was not about them, and it was unlikely they’d heard anything of his whereabouts this time around.  It had been both a blessing and a curse to operate in a place where he was only one of many to paint the streets in blood.  In Ionia, no masterpiece went unnoticed, everything held a weight to it that echoed horror through legends that spun themselves into the cautionary bedtime tales of many a defiant child.  But in Zaun, most of his feats were swept away with the rest of the muck that soiled the bowels of the city, no more than a small snippet of acknowledgement in the local papers. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, but it seemed almost every time he performed there he was plagued by some misfortune or another. Be it a trap not going off when it was supposed to, or a composition disrupted before it’s full beauty could be realized, Jhin was half convinced by now that some sort of horrible curse had befallen him.  Either way, surely nothing substantial that was likely to circulate beyond the sea.  Even if it had, the last he’d heard about the Master of Shadows, Zed had his own hands full dealing with the backlash from unrelated endeavors.  Something to do with the vastaya, and two in particular, though he knew little else outside of this. Served him right, really. 

It was of no matter, in the end.  Tonight was the night he’d force the dual cities to bear witness to his gruesome techniques.  Tonight, he would make his mark on the consciousness of Piltover-Zaun.  Permanently.

  The hexdraulic descenders were one of many industrial splendors that helped to shape the outline of the city; so prominent a landmark that the local hooligans had taken to riding on one of them as a right of passage.  The Howler, they called it -- certainly a beast of a transportation device that had initially peaked the virtuoso’s interest,  but soon fallen to the wayside when he’d grown to understand the importance of the smaller, more streamlined descenders.  They carried less passengers at any given time, most of whom held power in either or both of the neighborhoods.  Government officials and high-profile scientists, popular entertainers and media influencers--those who would set Piltover’s Finest into a frenzy trying to uncover the cause of their untimely demise. 

 Working in the gardens had been a genuine form of stress relief for him; but it also carried the added benefit of camouflaging him as nothing but a faceless bystander in a place that was often frequented by the higher class.  He’d overheard many an interesting conversation in his time there; but one conversation in particular had cued him in on how and where to find the schedule logs for these descenders; a knowledge he put to great use for that night’s performance.

5 minutes.  It was 5 minutes until the clock struck twenty hundred hours.  Not his favorite time, but a necessary one to ensure a perfect number of victims would unwittingly meet their demise inside the private descender that was set to rise back into Piltover.  He’d studied the four passengers who were to be boarding that night; ever the meticulous sort, though who they were meant little to Jhin personally.  Just that they were important, and that their deaths would leave a scar on the hearts and minds of not only those who bore witness to his designs, but the region as a whole.

Being there had given him the liberty of exercising his creativity; exploring alternate means to express his art and magic, and tonight was no different.  Jhin had never much entertained the idea of modifying poisons before, but the abundance of toxic substances that were at his disposal were a little bit more than tempting to fool around with.  After a lengthy two months of study and experimentation, he’d found the perfect substance, and the perfect disruption method via modified gas grenades.  Placing them inside the descender at the appropriate time had been the most difficult part; not because of anyone taking notice of the fanciful bits of molded metal and cogwork that looked more like decoration than anything, but because the person--creature--whatever he was who he’d recruited to do the task for him with his stealthy abilities kept accidently setting the little devices off before he even got to the location.  He’d had to reschedule his performance at least twice because of this; eventually coming to the conclusion that the assortment of knives the jester carried on his person were piercing the canisters.  How his physiology bypassed the effects of the fumes was beyond him, but it certainly brought to mind some questions about whether or not he should be involved in any dealings with this other, so-called ‘demon’.         

In 3 minutes, now, the four passengers would finish boarding what would inevitably become a chamber of death; locked away beside the inconspicuous embellishings that at just the right moment would release a concoction of horrible toxins, with a very specific effect.  He could visualize it so clearly in his mind.  Slowly, these unfortunate aristocrats would begin to lose their ability to breath as the chemicals bound to their cells, transformed them, their lungs splintering like tiny shards of glass. They'd gasp and choke for air, but each breath would only bring more pain as the contamination spread into veins and arteries, eventually rupturing skin and kissing away their lips and eyelids with the corrosive fluid that was once their blood eating through soft tissue.

 It was a hideous and painful process that left behind a bubbling mess of flesh and bone, just barely distinguishable as human.  Whoever had luck enough to stumble onto his latest masterpiece wouldn't see this, though-- at least, not at first. Where blood would boil and seep, his magic left streams of gold, and where flesh would tear and melt, delicate roots of wisteria would sprout and spread along the floor of the compartment.  It would be a sight to behold when they actually managed to breach the door, but that would take them quite a fair bit of time to accomplish.  Every facet of his plan had been carefully conducted, right down to the the workings of the machine itself.  By his meddling, the descender would shudder to a halt at the exact spot where it was to cross up into the golden city above-- where those in both cities would be able to marvel at his display.  Threads of magic would unfurl around the spherical machine into illusionary flora that gave it the appearance of a blossoming lotus-- and concealed the gnarled metal cables which would inevitably swallow the cart thanks to the nature of gravity.

 Clad in attire suitable for any other faceless citizen of Zaun, Jhin sneered at the flavorless layers of drearily hued fabrics and simplistic patterns, something he tried to bolster at least a little with choice accessories and one of the numerous protective masks he’d acquired during his time in the city.  By no means was it any kind of substitute for his most beloved facial wear, but he wore the device well, just as one would expect of an astute actor challenging themselves with an unfamiliar role. He had to admit, the abundance of selection when it came to facial wear in Zaun was pretty impressive.

He watched the events of the city below from beyond the panes of an abandoned alcove ascending the walls of the two cities, a delicately crafted telescope at hand.  He’d set up camp there a few hours earlier, beside him a small lantern, a satchel containing extra supplies, two flasks; one water, one alcohol, and a handful of homemade snacks were he to find himself stuck there longer than intended.  Naturally, he kept Whisper at hand, though with no intent of use.  A precautionary instrument, and a source of comfort for the artist, he stroked metal-clad fingertips across her emblem, an invariable and timed motion.  It wasn’t long, now, before the beauty of his craftsmanship would express itself in full for the whole of both cities to marvel.  He could hardly contain his excitement as he heard the soft tick of the pocket watch at his breast, and for a moment, he reluctantly desisted his gun-fondling to tip the telescope up to his line of vision and peer out into the crowded city below.  They were boarding now, each of them, one astutely dressed woman and three...

Two.

One, two. 

Where was the third gentleman who was to board the descender?  Perhaps he’d already entered?  Yes, that must have been it, surely, he hadn’t been watching the entire time, after all, and--

No...

“No.”

  Once, twice, again, again, he scoped across the panels of each window, he stood, he repositioned, he scanned it from every conceivable angle but... There were only three people on board.  He could feel his pulse start to pound in his temples.

One would think that if the sanctity of these individuals lives were of non-importance, than it wasn’t really of any matter if one slipped away, but that sadly just wasn’t the case.  He’d had a very distinct and fixed idea that he’d wanted to convey that night, and while the mechanisms that he’d implemented did indeed seem to be working without a single misstep, it was not what he had arranged.  As the seeds of his creation took root, the artisan barely heard the loud echo of creaking metal beyond the ringing in his ears. He clutched the telescope he’d brought but no longer used it, so tight that the retractable brass slid out of alignment beneath the bow of his fist. 

“This is wrong, this is all wrong!  Where is he?  Where is the Professor?!  I don’t understand, why isn’t he--this can’t be happening to me again.”  

Shambling to bring his now partially dismantled telescope back up to look at the scene that had unfolded, Jhin took little comfort in the suffering of the three who thrashed around in their last ditch effort to cling to life.  Hands trembling, he lowered it once more and forced himself to inhale on the count of 4.  Hold for 8, exhale 4-- a repetition that continued until he had managed to calm himself down enough to at least stop shaking.  This did not mean he was in any way, shape, or form happy about his circumstances, but he couldn’t allow that to control him.  

By the time he looked at his artwork again, everything had fallen into place, and bystanders had started to take notice.  Silent, save for a deep sigh, the maestro prepared his hand canon with an impressive swiftness.  He unlatched the window and rested the muzzle through the slight opening, taking aim at the first person he saw within range down below.  Whisper sang her tune into the unsuspecting courier’s flesh, leaving the woman’s blood and brain matter in a scattering of petals across the cobblestone.  Four.  But not how he’d envisioned.    

“Unacceptable.” he spat to himself, collecting his bearings from the kickback of his canon.  A sneer was hidden behind the sharp contours of his gasmask.

“Uninspired.  Absolute garbage!” As much as he wished to continue berating his own work and breaking things, he knew he couldn’t linger there long.  His improvising had left him vulnerable to discovery, already people were looking to see where that powerful blast had come from, though more were simply trying to find shelter in case the onslaught were to continue.  Collecting most of his things haphazardly, the killer stood and rolled onto his heels towards the tiny passageway he’d found his way through earlier that day.  He had been planning to leave Zaun as soon as he’d accomplished his work anyway, but it’s simultaneous success and failure had ensured his departure.  Once he gathered the seldom few necessities he’d left in a safe space nearby, he’d be out on the next boat.  Siren began screaming in the distance.  

He needed to reassess his work.  He needed to get his inspiration back.  It was time to go home. 

[erosjeon]

KALOPSIA [M] | epilogue

⇢  You walk into your home one day to find your cat walking on two feet, in a human form.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5| end

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!au, smut.

Warnings: [M] for explicit description of sex, oral sex (f + m), dirty talk, fingering, lots of teasing, mentions of heat & knotting, switch!Jungkook.

Word count: 4.8k

A.N:  I was hoping to put this out sooner in order to celebrate @acciobts‘s birthday but I was swarmed with exams and had put this off for so long but thank you for being the best person I know 🤧❤️. For new readers, you don’t really need to read the entire series to read this, this is basically pwp if you skip the beginning and is intended to be the finale.

You were laying flat on your stomach when you finished your make-out session with Jungkook, a smile still dancing on your lips as you look at him laying right beside you on the bed with his eyes closed and a look of bliss painted all over his face from the perked little silky ears to the idle smile on his lips. You couldn’t help but admire his beauty that glows within him, even when he’s not even trying. In his full cat form too - you always imagined him being a handsome man if he ever could be one.

And you were right. Even though you couldn’t imagine him being anything more than a sulky feline that made you happier than anything else in this world.

“What’re you thinking about?” You hear him ask and even though his eyes were still closed, you felt like he was looking right through you.

“I don’t know… nothing in particular” you sigh, you can’t help but be sad just thinking about all the time he was gone and even though you expected yourself to be so happy at his return it only brought you even more confusion and questions. Why was he gone for so long and why at a short notice? Does he know anything about what you’ve gone through without him? You weren’t the kind of person to commit to anything even if you really wanted to, a relationship is a two person ship and as long as you’re not absolutely sure how Jungkook feels then, you can’t bring yourself to force anything onto him.

The conversation you had before he left crept into your mind, he did say he liked you but his actions are way too conflicting. How does he like you then leave the next day? You can’t help but want more with him and you feel horrible that you’re putting both yourselves in this situation. Did anything happen between him and Yeri when he was away? Why is he not explaining himself to you?

Wait.

Should you expect him to explain it to you?

“Hm” the sudden feeling of a warm finger tracing your neck brought you out of thought before his husky voice did, “you sure… It’s nothing?”

“It’s nothing… nothing I can do anything about, that is” you exhale the air that got trapped in your throat at his soothing touch, refusing to give in to how good it feels with him being here and touching you. He had to start speaking if he wanted anything with you, you needed some explanation… just anything to shut the voice at the back of your head thats screaming at you with uncertainty.

You don’t trust yourself to withhold long enough for him to explain everything, since he had arrived, all you could think about is how good you’re oh so sure he’d feel against you, if you just straddle him, you think. Deep inside, you know you won’t be able to stand another minute without touching him when he’s right there after all this time. You want him so bad and you could barely contain it and this feign unaffectedness act you’re putting on is less than an inch away from breaking apart.

“I do owe you an explanation, Yeri…” he sighed, “she was in trouble with a couple of people. She’s not the biggest fan of hybrids being adopted or kept in captivity at any circumstance, even if their owners were good people” he gave you a sweet look, stars dancing in his eyes as he rubbed more tickling circles on your palm, “She wasn’t treated well by people growing up, she finds it hard to accept people. She barged into some elder man’s house convincing his dog hybrid to run away but she got caught, and of course, he had to live in the area where she lives with Jimin and the boys”

Hold on… Jimin? That must be be a coincidence right?

The cocky smirk answers your unasked question, “He told me,” he licked his lips before ducking in to snuggle and sniff at your neck, “that he sees why I enjoy your neck rubs so, so much..” You swear you could die from how fast your heart is beating at how he whispered each and every syllable so slowly, so sexily.

“Did you think I was going to let you be here by yourself all alone? When” His words eating away at the little sanity you have left as he nibbled at the skin of your jaw, “there’s another man out there who wouldn’t waste a second to be holding you and touching you like I am right now?”

Confusion swirled in your mind before you understood the source of Jungkook’s threat, he was jealous of your friendship with Taehyung, it would have made you a bit irritated and maybe concerned if he wasn’t so cute and overprotective, you knew it wasn’t his usual behaviour to act like - he’d sulk and try to get extra pets and cuddles, “Y-you mean it’s because you’re needy and want me all to yourself - didn’t want someone else to wrap their arms around me just like you are right now.” He hadn’t stopped nibbling and kissing, only moving upwards to your ear and making the hair at the back of your neck standing up at his warm, now uneven breath.

“Damn right, I don’t!” he bites at your lobe, his teeth scraping at the surface before his tongue coats it once, then twice until you lose count. His kisses were just like those he gave you when his identity was still hidden. The shy butterflies in your tummy now soaring as they fly, your mind travels to the nights where Jungkook seemed agitated at the presence of Jin in your home, you should feel embarrassed at the memory of him watching as Jin took you from behind in bed but you can’t deny that it doesn’t turn you on a little bit, even though you didn’t actually know any better. You remember thinking it was ridiculous that your cat was scowling at the presence of another man in your bed but boy how wrong you are now.

You refuse to admit to the reason why your relationship with Jin didn’t work, he was a great handsome guy but he never made you feel as good as he tells you make him feel, you don’t remember ever reaching your climax with him. It might not have been his fault, you were just a really hard person to arouse let alone make cum but here you are panting at the faintest touch of Jungkook’s fingers.

The heat radiating from his body increasing as you pulled yourself closer to him, “J-jungkook, are you feeling alright? You’re really starting to burn up!” you were growing worried now even though his actions were so conflicting, he didn’t seem to be unwell. If anything, he seems like he was going to discard any dignity he had left. Your breathing grows heavier as his lips caress the scars he accidentally inflicted on you with his paws, nourishing your heart with love you didn’t think you’d receive from anybody in this world.

“I-I just need you to..” His voice going soft as he ducked his head onto your chest, rubbing his nose on the thin fabric that’s doing nothing to hide any bit of you, he suddenly stops his ministrations, he quickly rushes to his feet that it started to alarm you, is he feeling worse?! What are you to do? Should you dial the ambulance?

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” You can barely speak as you rush after him when he leaves the room, his steps picking up speed when his ears twitched, probably from hearing your feet chase after him. “Hey! Please stop!” You call out when he shows no sign of stopping, quickly heading to the door that separates your home from the cold outside.

“Y/n, I…” you hear him panting, “I don’t want you to see me like this” you hear him say softly, along with the sound of your heart breaking. “ I don’t want to take you when I’m like this”

“W-what do you mean?” You pleaded, along with your eyes that threaten to spill tears any moment. “Please let me have a look at you, maybe I could help!”

You could tell that he was really conflicted, his large hand covering the door knob but not turning yet. You didn’t wait before wrapping your hand around his waist from behind, “Please don’t leave, I won’t be able to sleep without you and I can’t let you go until I know you’re okay” you tried to negotiate as you burry your face in the groove of his back, trying to hide your tears and in all of a sudden…

His demeanour had quickly changed once he turned around, the worried look in his eyes when he ran outside your room is long gone, now replaced with total darkness. You were about to speak when he had let go of the door, the sound so loud in the quiet space of your living room making you almost flinch.

“If I stay, we’re not going back to bed until I’m done with you” he growls as he brings his hand around the front of your throat, sitting just at the base as his fingers wrap around either side but not applying a lot of pressure but enough to let the heat pool somewhere in my belly, perhaps to let me know that it was my decision to make. Let him go or le-

“Unless… I fuck you on it…” he whispers before grabbing your shoulders and turning you till the next thing you know is your front is pressed against the wall, your chest heaving at the way he’s handled you so roughly, so unexpectedly.

“But I’d prefer doing it right here” you hear him say as you feel his hand tracing the skin of your legs upwards, before reaching your thigh and suddenly, you can feel him behind you. His front flush against your back, his sweatpants doing nothing to conceal the feel fo his cock as he rocks it against your ass. His other hand reaches your front and tugs at the fabric of your top trying to lift it but settled with it being at the top of your breast, high in your chest over having to pull you away from the floor and taking it off completely.

You should feel embarrassed that he’s caught you without your bra, but instead you were heaving with anticipation of whats to come, what he’d say and do when he finds out that you’re not wearing panties either.  You feel his breath on your neck as uneven as yours, his hands suddenly turning you around once again, just for him to have a look at you.

He eyed your breasts, you were blessed to have a little more than a handful of flesh there but suddenly, you felt embarrassed in the open, your nipples now feeling hardened and aching from the cold air before Jungkook went diving down and taking one of your breasts in his mouth enclosing it around your nipple and sucking hard, you couldn’t escape the moan building in your throat as he growled, “you’re so perfect” before his fingers enclosed around your neglected breast and tugging, his mouth was tracing kisses and sucking at any piece of skin closely “perfect face”, you hear him say as his tongue traced your jaw, “perfect tits” making you groan as his tongue turned to the nipple that hadn’t met with his mouth, sucking hard and pressing kisses. He started sliding his hand between your legs, his head now nuzzled into your neck as you whimpered, your knees are slowly losing their strength you think.

Pleasure had travelled into every single cell of your body as his fingers traced around your clit through your shorts, you couldn’t help arching your back when his fingers suddenly tapped at it before travelling further south, his fingers digging at your slit making you forced your eyes shut, you could die right now. You knew you were soaking his fingers, hell, he knew you were soaking his fingers. A moan escaped your throat at the feeling of his tongue, the sensation of his tongue at your neck.

“Oh god!” You couldn’t help but groan when he brought his fingers in front of you, they were drenched with your slick.

“You dirty, dirty girl” he taunted, “you can’t help yourself, can you?” He catches your gaze with his as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, his tongue closing around his fingers as your breath gets caught in your throat once again. Making you moan out as he let out a groan.

“This isn’t supposed to be how our first time goes down, I wanted to take it slow, make love to you but…” he flicked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “Why do that when we can just jump right into the fun, I’m gonna give you what your eyes have been begging me for and you’re going to just take it” he was getting himself as worked up as you are, you’re so sure that your wetness is travelling down your thighs at his words, fuck.

He was greedy, his mouth now on yours sucking and his hand now groping at the flesh of your ass, pushing you against him. You raised your arm, circling around the back of his neck and you can feel his hand moving to your core again, his fingers working around the fabric in search for your skin, his fingers entered you, moving inside of you and you feel nothing but bliss, the pulse between your legs is harder to ignore, wishing he could do something to ease the pain but once his fingers exited you, he thrusted them back in, making you moan loud, every muscle in your belly clenching at the pace.

You let your head hang on his shoulder “Jungkook, p-please! I need more!” You can feel his breathy laugh against your cheek, “you need more?” He taunted, his tongue now moving towards your jaw, nibbling and sucking the skin into his mouth as his fingers leave your core, his lips now next to my ear when he whispers in a low growl, “I’ll give you what you want, baby. I’m going to eat you so good” making the hairs of your skin stand tall, a moan escaped its way out of your lips once more, both his hands are now kneading the flesh of your ass, massaging away any tension before ripping the shorts off you. You felt his whole body descend against you, you watched him as he dropped to his knees, he was fully clothed while you are completely naked, completely at his mercy.

“Open up for me,” he demanded, his eyes dark, you knew this was no request. You shifted your legs apart, hoping nothing would gush out onto to the wooden floor when you make space for his body, he didn’t let a single second pass before he took your clit into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles and sucking hard, making your knees grow so weak that you held yourself steady by taking hold of his head, your fingers tugging his feline ears as he swirled his tongue around your clit again, the pull making him moan and the sound vibrated within you, his tongue never relented, you could feel yourself releasing any minute. 

It was when he glided his tongue along your slit when you let out another whimper, “Jungkook, please!” You panted, you tried to stop yourself from rolling your hips onto his tongue, to get him back to your clit but he didn’t let you go far. His fingers were holding you still when he pressed his tongue inside you, moving and licking. “So wet, is this all for me?” You hear him taunt again, the heat that was once in your lower body is now everywhere, spreading down your legs and eventually your toes, making them curl and you knew you were so, so close.

“and a pretty pussy too” he growls, he covered your clit with his fingers, drawing lazy, faint circles as if he knew it throbbed, he knew exactly what you needed to let go. Your cheeks filled with almost embarrassment when you opened your eyes to see him staring straight through you, he looked so, so good pleasuring you “you feel so good Jungkook, oh my god!” You couldn’t help but scream the words out, they were responded with a smirk, “yeah? You taste so good”

He moved his eyes to your clit, before catching it with his mouth and you couldn’t hold back anymore, you rolled your clit against his tongue with every thrust of your hips, keeping his exactly where you needed him and this time, he let you move and grind onto his greedy tongue, he was lapping at you everywhere, making you grit your teeth together as your orgasm spilled over you and landing onto his tongue, everything was so still and the only sound you hear is the sound of your heart beating, everything so muted as your eyes rolled back in your head before the sound of Jungkook’s tongue against you faded in, he’s landing soft kisses around your core before he stood up to meet you.

He dived for your mouth, his aim for your lower lip as his teeth tug and he sucks on it, letting you taste yourself when his tongue invades yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you kiss him and relishing in the feeling of him, the taste of him. You let a hand drop, landing your palm onto his chest and getting frustrated that you’re not feeling skin and instead, you’re feeling the fabric of his shirt

“Take this off” you demand, tugging on it as he goes for your neck, kissing bruises and marks, “Please! I want to feel you” you tried to rid him of the offensive piece of clothing but the weight of his arms won’t let it budge, getting frustrated when he didn’t do anything about it. You used all the strength you had left hoping it’d tear away but to no avail as he steps back, a lazy smirk hanging on his lips. His eyes were full of darkness, nothing else to see. He was so worked up, his ears hanging high on his head. His fingers folding under the shirt only to bring it up as he lifted his arms up slowly, his toned torso never looked so enticing as it does now, his abs begging you to touch, to kiss, to suck. Your eyes were following every movement of his hand, you knew he was teasing you, loving the way your mouth is open and the way you’re almost drooling. Goddamn him!

The shirt was discarded after what seemed like hours behind him when he started to work on his sweatpants, his fingers working fast to untie it and it was off in a second, you could’ve never prepared yourself to welcome the sight before you, he was standing in all his glory, one that you’ve seen before with no hint of underwear.

“Surprised?” He whispered as he took steps towards you. Yours eyes had nowhere to go, so drawn to his erection, his cock was full and hard, leaning against his stomach. Your eyes widened when his hands descended to wrap around it, working his fingers up and down yet his eyes were still fixed at you. There was absolutely nothing you want to do right now but take him in your mouth, try to give him at least half of the pleasure he’d given you.

You were sinking to your knees when he stood right in front of you, his hand leaving his cock to pat your head before taking a fistful of your hair and tugging down, forcing you to match your eyes with the level of his, “what a good girl you are for me, on your knees without me having to ask” he growled, his words doing nothing to soothe the ache thats starting to build in your core again.

“Can I taste you?” You ask with the sweetest voice you could muster, your hand already wrapping around one of his thighs and the other is tentatively reaching for the tip, up-close you could see how red it is demanding for relief, the room was dark and the only light there is whatever was allowed by the door of your lit bedroom. You hear a shuffle when you wrapped your fingers the redness, looking up to find Jungkook leaning against the wall with a hand and his eyes closed shut, you think you heard a please amongst the grunts he let out when you moved your fingers even further, gripping him by the base and feeling more comfortable on your knees.

You reached for the tip with your tongue, giving a tender lick to the tip where a bead of pre-cum has collected. He tasted sweet, sweet as the rest of him. You wanted this to be perfect for him, not knowing if he’s ever had been in someone’s mouth before, you wanted to be perfect for him. You sucked the tip into your mouth, tongue rolling against the head when you felt his thigh shake,

“Fuck!” He growls, the hand in your hair is forcing you to take more of him and you were more than happy to supply, you took whatever you could of him and swirled your tongue around his thickness, he was so heavy on your tongue that the more you took of him, the less able you were to do anything but suck.

“You’re so good, so good” you hear him moan, he didn’t warn you when he snapped his hips forward, forcing you to take all his length and knocking the breath out of you. His tip was in your throat when he let out a groan, he was abusing your mouth with his pace and you stood still, taking all that he’s giving to you.

And in all of a sudden, you were off the floor and into his arms. His mouth chasing yours for a kiss, your legs were on either side of his waist when he moved into your room, his length rubbing against your slit as he walked, “I want to fuck you here” he casually said, his back was facing the foot of the bed when you decided to take matters into your own hands, you wanted to please him, give him everything you want before he could even offer.

You push him onto the bed, his eyes were wide when he landed but the smirk playing on his lips didn’t fade. You crawled onto the bed, your eyes locked with his as you straddled him, his hands were immediately cupping the back of your thighs, his fingers never leaving your skin as you leaned down to capture his mouth in a kiss, groaning when he let your tongue in. He’s so warm, he tasted so sweet and you couldn’t have enough, chasing after his tongue and sucking it into yours while your hands roamed his body for any untouched inch of skin. You left his mouth for his jaw, not leaving the opportunity to suck bruises to hear him let out breathy moans, you reached his chin when something more appealing caught your eyes.

You didn’t bother to make him anticipate before diving for his nipples, they were hard and asking for attention. Your tongue traced idle circles to test the waters, but when he started panting, you sucked it into your mouth. He was moaning loud, not holding back his sound that kept you going, and suddenly you felt something wet against your tummy, looking down you noticed how much he had been oozing.

He likes this a lot, making you the one smirking until he positioned his cock at your opening and pushing in, holding no restraint and moaning louder now that your heat is covering his tip, he was sliding his cock out before all of it was in you, teasing the tip in and then taking it out.

“Do you want me, y/n?” He had the audacity to tease. You weren’t sure if what he’s doing is to tease you or himself, but you couldn’t stand anymore second of it. The ache inside you begged to be relieved, you gripped his cock by the base and moaning when you sunk slowly, making yourself feel every inch of it until he was completely inside you. You let out a moan, not being able to stay silent. You hovered his mouth with yours, your hips rolling against his, his eyes watching where you connected and closed when you touched his lips with yours, you were sharing the same shaky breath, he’s so beautiful under you, so beautiful and so sweet, his moans joined yours and resonated the room when you picked up the pace, his cock was sliding in easily, not that you’re shocked with how much you were dripping.

You felt him so deep, wanting this moment to last forever, you kissed him and moaned into his mouth, “I’m getting close” you whispered, you knew you were going to come soon, he was working you up all night, this was inevitable.

“Yeah?” You hear him whisper, “cum for me then, cream all over my cock” he grunts as he holds you deeper against him, his hands were bruising your hips as his lifted off the bed to meet yours, his thrusts were getting fast, fast and deep. You were about to lose your mind and body to this euphoric feeling thats threatening to take you over, you needed more, just a bit more.

A gasp left your lips when your tummy was met with the bed, he had flipped you over. His hands were quick on your hips, handling you roughly to get you to match the level of his cock before he slid right in, taking you from behind. He was so deep now, reaching places inside you that haven’t been explored, his width was tearing you apart at his pace, he was relentless.

“I said cum!” You hear him grunt, one of his hands quickly moved to circle your clit, his fingers were as merciless as his hips, he rubbed you and worked you up so close to your high, and suddenly he was getting bigger, you could feel it, he was growing inside of you.

“Baby?” You tried to see if he’s okay but you were spent, “you’re getting so big” you moan, you knew he wasn’t gonna stop, you’d just have to take it. You sucked in a breath, holding it when you felt him expand further, his thighs were meeting yours as he snapped his hips further, his cock now catching on your slit when he pushes in at his size.

“I’m going to cum in you” you hear him say, his fingers moved up to wrap around your lower belly  “I’m going to cum and you’re going to keep it in here but before I do” you hear him pant, bringing his mouth close to your ear “you’re going to cum” his words pushed you over the edge, you squeezed your eyes shut, the world fading out again as you peaked.

You felt wetness fall down your thighs, Jungkook was pounding into you harder, his hips grinding onto you and his groans filling the room when he came, he came in long spurts and they were quickly filling you up making you moan, the movement causing you friction.

“Fuck” you hear Jungkook say, his body collapsing on your back with his elbow supporting his weight off you on the bed, “I’m still cumming” he says, one of his hands descending to slide his cock out of you, and sure enough he was still spilling cum, it was getting everywhere on the sheets.

“What was that?” You say from your spot on the bed, not having enough energy to turn over and not wanting to lose any of the cum inside of you.

“That was my body trying to knot you” he replies with a breathy laugh, his lips pressing kisses on your back. “Sorry I should’ve told you, my heat is anytime soon and I think it started.”

His fingers started drawing the softest circles on your thighs, “are you okay?” He asks with concern in his voice.

“Yeah” you say as you turn over, taking his face in both your hands “I feel… perfect just really tired” you let out a laugh.

“You do feel perfect” he whispers before claiming your lips, “I love you.”

[minnochu]

Lustrous (Pt. 17)

Hybrid!Kook x Fem!Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19

 Warning: Blood and Violence? LOL somewhat. And a spicy beginning scene :’)

Note: Hey guys! I had this ready like a few days ago but I got busy lol. Sorry for any errors or mistakes I might’ve missed, but hope you guys have a great Thanksgiving week - I have school today till Wed yikes - or week in general if you don’t celebrate that and enjoy!! :’)

Ps!!! I’ll update links tonight maybe 0-0

..

“This is why we never leave it up to the humans to deal with a witch’s dirty work,” Eris sighs, placing the crystal ball on a cushion held by her servant. Shooing them away, she turns towards her bed. Her dark eyes dragged over the male lying in wait on the mattress. 

“Won’t you entertain me Colhen? Who knew that Minerva taught her in secret... that defect is becoming a pain in my ass,” she whispers with a curl of her red painted lips. The length of her porcelain robe brushes along the floor as she steps carefully towards the bed. Crawling onto the mattress, her slender legs shift to take place on either side of the warlock’s hips. Her back curved, bending over his body to press her forehead against his. Colhen’s hand rose to push a lock of her long raven hair behind her ear.

“My apologies, that thing is your daughter,” she hums sarcastically, sitting up to allow his hands to push her robe off her shoulders, “Usually I would have had Minerva and you be punished, but only you I would make an exception for.”

“I have no daughter,” Colhen mutters, lips grazing over the flesh of her shoulder as strands of his messy dark hair brushed over her bare skin.

“Good answer, “ she muses, hands grasping at his cheeks to adorn a kiss to his lips, “Just don’t get too sentimental when I kill her along with that stupid little mutt.”

He didn’t speak any longer, pursing his lips before erasing thoughts of Minerva and his daughter from his mind and indulging in his wife instead.

.

Jungkook’s eyes lowered to your neck, the skin of his cheeks flushing as you squeezed your eyes shut in preparation. You tilted your head to the side but he couldn’t help but hesitate with the way your fingers tightened around his shirt, trembling as you awaited his next movements. The warmth of his breath wafted over the expanse of your exposed neck, the sensation causing you to shiver. 

Eyes softening, his hand raises to cover yours clutching on his right shoulder. The muscles twitch at his touch, to which his thumb grazes soothingly over your knuckles. Turning his head to the right, he exhales as he lifts your hand from his shoulder, bringing the inside of your forearm towards his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, tongue laving over your wrist. Face burning, he gulps down the knot in his throat, guilt weighing down on his shoulders as his mouth opens to reveal his top two fangs. 

“I’m so so sorry.”

A gasp leaves your parted lips, the fingers of your left hand tightening around the fabric of his shirt. The pain is a sharp pinch as his fangs pierce your skin, breeching the walls of the arteries lying underneath. 

Euphoria fills him, nearly drooling at the taste of your blood meeting his tongue. The packages of pork blood had nothing compared to your sweet taste. Eyes falling closed, he savored the liquid, adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he ingested more. 

More. More. More. More.

He’d almost forgotten his surroundings until you made a strangled whimper. The initial pain had subsided, but he was beginning to suck your arm dry to the point of it hurting. Fingers releasing his shoulder, you pushed weakly at his chest, “Ju-jungkook, that’s enough.”

Eyes widening, he recoiled immediately, examining your appearance. You gaze back at him tiredly, face slightly pale, breaths still coming out bated. Below, blood trickled from the two holes on your wrist. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” He chanted lowly, voice reaching no more than a whisper. Fingers curl around yours as he lowers his head to roll his tongue over the marks. You watch as the wounds slowly weave back together and heal quickly. Not a scar is left.

His eyes flit upward to regard you softly when you feel a wave of dizziness, exhaustion consuming you. Jungkook catches you without fail as your body succumbs to the events of today. Biting his lip, he can’t help the growing ball of guilt growing in his stomach as he shifted your body in his arms and continued to rush you to the cabin, now invigorated with the help of your blood.

Trees pass as he shoots past each, he finds his way to the back door where Yoongi is waiting for him with Seokjin. The warlock’s face is contorted with worry, a frown at his lips and eyebrows drawn together. Worry reeks from the magician, a scent pungent to only Yoongi with Jungkook blocking his wolf gene. 

Slowing down, the hybrid comes to a halt, sharing a look with the elder wolf.

“Barrier, the Blackwells sent bounty hunters and nearly destroyed the forest… She got hit pretty hard from the explosion, maybe a broken rib or two… I can barely hear her breathing…” He spoke quickly, panic and guilt settling in his golden irises.

Yoongi stopped him, sniffing audibly with a wrinkle of his nose, “You smell like fucking wolfsbane, what the hell happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Seokjin frowns, motioning for the two men to follow after him and into the cabin, “I’ll clean up later, for now… I’ll heal you both.”

The rest of the pack are full of unanswered questions, filing into Jungkook’s room when Seokjin prompts the hybrid to lay you down before ordering him to change out of his soiled clothes. He makes quick work, with glowing palms hovering over your chest, to mend the three broken ribs, others bruised or fractured slightly, and minorly damaged lungs. Your breathing stabilizes and returns to normal soon after, and he places his palms over your neck and ankle to heal the burned skin. Not a scar is left as he finishes and leaves momentarily to grab a necessary item for the cure.

“You drank from her, didn’t you?” Namjoon pointed out bluntly as Jungkook returns from the bathroom, dressed in a new pair of sweats and a shirt. At that remark, Taehyung and Jimin sputter audibly before snickering. The hybrid glares at the two, although no denying the claim.

“Can’t believe you got a taste before I could Kookie, you sneaky wolf,” the younger smirked, “And with wolfsbane in your system, how’d you even manage?”

“He blocked his gene you stupid bloodsucker,” Yoongi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This is becoming so troublesome.”

Jungkook frowned, glaring down at his sock-clad feet, “If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have made it home, I could’ve gone out of control again too…” Shaking his head, he looked at each of his pack members, “Trust me when I say I kept trying to push her away, but she offered and I couldn’t say no.”

Hoseok smiles softly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Don’t blame yourself man, there was no other way around it.”

“I just can’t help blaming myself when all I do is hurt her,” Jungkook sighs exasperatedly, glaring down at his hands. His skin has been stained pink from the blood, a reminder of his status as a killer. He could’ve hurt you worse. He could’ve killed you.

“Stop worrying about that useless crap,” Yoongi frowns, flicking at his temple, “You’re both safe and that’s all that matters.”

“He’s right!” Seokjin hums, reentering the bedroom with a kitchen knife in hand. The image of the warlock smiling cheerily with a weapon in his grasps is not a savory one, but the others don’t question it as he orders the two vampires to leave the room and take you with them to rest downstairs. They don’t speak any complaint, but the werewolves remaining are all deftly aware of the tense smile on Namjoon’s expression that screams fear before leaving with Taehyung carrying you in his arms. 

“Alright, get on the bed Kookie-ah,” the warlock hummed without fail, the cheery tone sending shivers down all four of the wolves’ spines. He clamors onto the mattress without a peep, afraid of what he was going to do to cure him. Lying flat on his back, he gulps as Seokjin instructs the males to hold him down. A spell falls from his plump lips and the hybrid’s sheets wrapped around his ankles and wrists like rope. Hoseok takes position at his right arm, Jimin at his left foot, and Yoongi at his left arm. Seokjin stands at the side of the bed, brandishing the knife wickedly.

“About that wolfsbane procedure, hyung,” Jungkook mentions meekly as the warlock grins widely.

“I’m going to need you to reactivate your wolf gene, okay?” he says, ignoring the wolf’s initial question. 

He doesn’t know what to do initially, but after years of blocking his vampiric side and now lycan side, he closes his eyes and feels his body pulse. Reopening, his eyes appear blue and gold once again and he groans. The poison takes effect almost immediately upon the reactivation of his wolf side. His body grows paralyzed and he struggles to keep himself conscious with the amount of wolfsbane dosage. After how long the poison had been in his system, the effects take a turn for the worst as he begins convulsing wildly. His eyes are wide, burning brightly up at the ceiling as he clenches his teeth, fangs canines extended.

The movements prove tough for the other three wolves as blood and yellow foam emerges from his mouth. At his arms, his claws extend and he grabs wildly at the sheets to keep himself grounded while his body spasms out of control.

“Hold him tight, this is going to hurt, if I don’t do this quickly, he might actually die.”

The three try their best to steady the violent spasms of their youngest, struggling as Seokjin slices his shirt open and positions the blade over his chest. Pressing down, he makes an incision down the sagittal line of his chest down his belly. The cut opens wide and a thick and yellow smoke unfurls from inside the hybrid’s body. The wolves shield their faces from the vapor, watching as it fades slowly and Jungkook’s body soon falls lax with the disappearance of the wolfsbane. 

A whispered spell brings a towel flying in from the bathroom to clean up the frothing and blood. With the poison gone, Jungkook’s body is able to heal normally and the cut down his front mends together again. 

He lays there exhausted, chest falling up and down in parallel to his harsh breathing. The sharp nails of his fingers begin to recede and his eyes return to their normal mocha hue. 

“I never want to go through that again.”

Seokjin chuckles as he twirls his finger, a whispered spell causing the mattress and sheets to return to normal, “Then don’t take a knife like that.”

The younger pouts, watching as his bisected shirt is mended together by the spell.

“Come on, you’ve got some explaining to do down stairs,” Yoongi says, squeezing his shoulder briefly before exiting with the other three. 

Jungkook didn’t realize that after the whole fight, it didn’t change the awkwardness between you and him. You certainly didn’t forget about his hidden pasy with Hyejin. It didn’t even make it any better that he’s fed off of you. The thought brings pink hues burning at your cheeks. Neither one of you could look the other in the eyes. 

Jimin and Taehyung notice this exchange and elbow nudge one another. They shake their heads at the shyness, expecting things to be cleared up after you two talked and even had to fight to survive. However, you two were proving to be stubborn.

The two opt to take a seat at either of your sides, this action doing little effort in making a growl erupt from the hybrid. Clenching a trembling fist, he sighed and relented. He took a seat with Yoongi and Hoseok, while Namjoon stood with Seokjin. 

Both of you took turns explaining the sequences of events, leaving out your talk and mind meld and bloodsucking. The boys listen attentively with pensive expressions.  Seokjin steps behind you to place a comforting hand over you shoulder.

“You poor thing, to get thrown into battle like that without practicing your magic practically… I’m so proud of you holding your own… Minerva would be so proud,” he says with a soft tone, “When you rest up, I need to start teaching you some self defense.”

“It was weird. But it was also empowering. I’ve never used magic like that before, outside of your training. And it just seemed to flow inside me so easily,” you reply, glancing down at your hands and amulet. Seol had abruptly interfered with your skill, you wonder what would’ve happened if you had gone through with it. Would you be a killer? That thought made you frown. Maybe you’d have to resort to that if Eris was going to keep targeting you and putting your friends in danger. You looked up. Putting Jungkook in danger. 

You hated not being able to do anything. Hated that he was putting himself on the line for you. You weren’t even his imprint or whatever they called it. A fated soulmate. Perhaps Hyejin is his soulmate. Your chest tightened. That thought hurt.

“Don’t worry too much,” Seokjin smiled, “Rest up, go to school, and we’ll start teaching you how to protect yourself in fight when you feel better, okay?”

The meeting is adjourned and Seokjin leaves with Namjoon to restore the forest while the others disperse to their rooms. Glancing at Jungkook, you nearly sulk when he spares you no look. Looks like you’ll be in Yoongi’s room again. It’s not until later on when you’re about to retire to Yoongi and Hoseok’s room when the former stops you in the hallway. 

“Yoongi? Is something wrong?” You ask curiously.

He shifts from one foot to another, “Talk to him, I can’t take whatever the hell is going on between you two anymore.”

“He won’t tell me anything!” You fling your hands up in exasperation, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I thought we were okay, he told me about his family, but as soon as I find out he’s got a past with Hyejin, I’m locked out once again! What am I supposed to think or feel?” 

“What do you feel?” Yoongi asks.

“Hurt. Confused. All I know is that Jungkook liked Hyejin… and that he has a fated soulmate or whatever that means…”

The male winced at that. He nearly smacked his palm over his face out of frustration, ‘Oh Kookie-ah, you really need to learn how to explain and not leave your own imprint hanging like this.’ 

“What do you think you know about this fated thing?” He asks with pursed lips, crossing his arms over his chest as you explain how you saw in Jungkook’s memories about his father imprinting on his father and how he was fated to a she-wolf, and then the hybrid had forced her out of his head when Hyejin came into his life.

“That idiot,” he groaned, sagging his shoulders. Fingers pinched at the wrinkled bridge of his nose before he shook his head and waved you to follow him. Exiting the house to the backyard, he nodded his head towards the roof. “Good luck.”

“O-oh wait, real quick... do you mind?” You stammer, tapping on the surface of the stone on your chest. He blinks but relents and holds out a hand for you siphon from.

You manage a sheepish smile, nodding in response as your amulet resonated with a glowing hue. In a blink, you appeared atop the covering with a trail of black mist. Turning over your shoulder, you shoot the older wolf a quick thumbs up, to which he offers a quirk of his lips before shoving his hands into his pockets and heading back into the house to give you two privacy. You wonder how much privacy you two could get with their enhanced hearing. That didn’t matter, you think with a shake of your head. Right now, you needed to know the truth whether you or he liked it or not. 

Climbing over the tiles, you peer over the apex to find the hybrid sitting idly and staring up at the sky. 

“I know you’re there (Y/n),” he mumbled, making no move to regard you nor run away from you.

Your heart sped up, feeling nervous suddenly as you climb over and slide down and beside him. He didn’t spare you a look, and maybe that was for the best for the both of you. His cheeks burned as well as his whole body feeling as though it were up in the clouds. You breathed in, heart pounding in both yours and his ears and suddenly, it was like someone had grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him down to earth. The forest melted away, the house didn’t even feel like it was there. It was only a world where you were there and both of you watching the stars beginning to align and shine bright above you both.

He could smell your insecurity and anxiety, your sadness and worry. He hated that. Nothing mattered more than making you feel safe and making sure you were happy. 

“About today—”

“Listen—”

You both start at once, turning to glance at one another simultaneously. The realization sets in and both of you turn red immediately before quickly turning away. 

“I have one question,” he mutters softly, glancing down at his sock-clad feet. 

Averting your eyes in his direction, you gaze in awe at the way his chestnut hair appears darker, nearly pitch black. His chin raises and he turns his eyes back up towards the night sky and you no longer remember how to breathe. The small flecks in the sky appear like diamonds in the glimmer of his eyes. It reminds you of his true eye color, a bright pool of blue with specks of gold scattered within his iris. 

“Why?” He asked, eyes sliding down to gaze at you, “Why are you so persistent?”

“Why do you keep pushing me away?” You retort with a pointed look.

“Don’t answer me with a question,” He frowns, fingers twitching to flick your forehead as punishment but he knows if he touches you, he’ll want more contact.

“Sorry…” You purse your lips, “It’s just kind of unfair you know… you show me your past and it feels like I’ve gained your trust and we’re okay! And then something like Hyejin happens and you can’t bear to be in the same room as me anymore…”

It’s not that he couldn’t be in the same room. He wanted to be anywhere you were.

“I...I just don’t want to be left in the dark Jungkook.”

“Why does that matter to you?!” He snaps, although regretting it immediately when you flinch, body quivering slightly, “I… I’m sorry… I just don’t see why any of this matters to you when you’re just here to be protected until the Blackwells are no longer a threat to you. After that... you can go back to living with Yahiko, you won’t need us.”

Your shoulders sagged and the scent of hurt and sadness hit him like a train, and suddenly he felt like he was suffering the same emotions.

“Moreover that Jungkook, it’s just as Taehyung said before… I find family in you all… that’s why I care so much… I don’t know what else you want me to do or say…” You sigh exasperatedly, “I don’t even know what you want me to make of all the loose ends I’ve been getting, you just cut me off before I can get any real grasp of what’s going on… Like Hyejin? Was she a girlfriend from the past? Fated she-wolf? I just feel so—” You stopped yourself before you could say it. 

Sad. Heartbroken. There was only one reason why you would be feeling such a way in response to such things and that scared you. Not because of what he was, but because of the high possibility of rejection. 

“—ves.”

“What?” You ask, leaning closer to hear his low voice. 

“It’s not only other wolves…” He muttered with pursed lips, turning his head to look away, “That we could imprint on…”

“So… you could imprint on humans too?” You ask, cursing the lilt of hopefulness in your voice.

He nods.

You’re almost ecstatic at this revelation, but then you remember. 

Hyejin.

“You imprinted on Hyejin, didn’t you?” You stand abruptly.

His brow drew together, frowning at your conclusion, “No… that’s not… yes, I did previously date Hyejin but—”

“But what Jungkook?” You interrupt with a frown, “She’s your fated, huh?”

Just tell her, he thinks, tell her and this whole misunderstanding will be over. 

But he doesn’t. He’s too afraid and he feels his heart drop at it’s result.

“Why are you getting so nosy?” He snaps back.

“Why? Because I lik— …” You trail off, knowing why you feel the way you do. Frustration settles in your chest, twisting at your heart as tears create a sheen layer over your optics. Jungkook nearly feels like he’s being torn apart when he notices the minuscule tear that rolls from your bottom lid and is absorbed into the skin of your cheek. 

“(Y/n),” He whispers, but you shook your head and phase. His hand is too late as it reaches out to grab you, but only grasps at the black smoke you leave behind. Reopening his empty palm, he shook with guilt and anger at himself. A trembling fist smashes down, crumbling the roof tiles underneath.

“Fuck!”

..

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[littlebitoffanfic]

The Bear Or The Deer

Fandom: Frankenstein Character: Adam/Frankenstein’s monster Relationship: Adam/reader Request: you do a lot of horror and I was just wondering on the off chance: would you do Frankenstein’s monster x reader? AN: Frankenstein is my favourite book! Since, in the book the creature calls himself Adam, I decided to stick with that as his name. also, this’ll probably be a multi-chapter thing as I cant wait to explore more plot with him

 Sitting in your home on a stormy night, in the pitch black, waiting by a window was never something you thought you would ever have to do. But after the last few months, you needed to know. You had to. Something was happening and you didn’t know or understand it. People had reported a monster in the woods that surrounded your home, yet you had had little cause to be frightened. In fact, the only thing that truly scared you about it was not knowing what it was. You had never felt exposed or unsafe in your home. It was about a mile out from the nearest town, and just off a trail that only had one or two horse and carts pass by ever week. You were mostly self sufficient, growing your own vegetables and fruit in your large garden and a few animals such as cow and a few chickens along with your trusted horse. You traded in town with your craft work, using your love for paints, crafting and even mending things. Often, the butcher, who has a young family, will ask you for new clothes and such in exchange for meat. You would sell your art to passing traders and do the occasional jobs for everyone else in the town in exchange for whatever you needed. But it was still hard work. Your home and its surroundings needed a lot of tending to. Only, you had noticed something strange over the last little while. Your log pile, which you kept outside next to the small bard, was kept topped up. Then apples started being left on your back porch every morning, along with oranges and any other fuits. As time grew on, you grew uneasy. You tried leaving out food and some blankets and such, in hope that whoever it is was just looking to trade. But they never took anything. And then the rumours started in town. A beast, like a bear, stalking the forest. A few had seen it moving about, but none dared approach it. It had to be human-like, judging but its knowledge of cutting wood and such, but where did it live? Was it close to you? Tonight, you planned on seeing it for yourself. You had left out a large basket of food for it. Cheeses, hams, a bottle of milk and some eggs, in hopes that it would take it. You sat to the side of one of your kitchen windows, which was close to the back door where the thing sometimes left fruit. You hoped it would see the basket when placing the logs on the pile and come to investigate. You had nearly drifted off when a crash of thunder woke you, making you jump as you sat straight up. Looking out the window, you noticed how the moon was nearly fully covered by clouds, the only light now came from the soft glow of your living room, where you always kept the fire going to heat the house and the small light of the full moon that peaked through the clouds. Another few lightening strikes and crashes of thunder kept you alert. Until you saw the creature. It emerged from the forest like a it might have been a tree itself, judging but the stature. In the rain, it was bend over, walking on two legs with a long cloak drawn over its body. It was human, and judging by the stature, probably male. It, he, carried logs against his chest, only pulling back his cloak to place them onto the pile carefully. He was soaked to the bone, you could see that, and yet he was more concerned with make sure the balance of the pile was right. His face was hidden by the hood, but you saw he had noticed the basket, which was still dry thanks to the porches roof and the wind that blew the rain in the opposite direction. He walked to the porch, placing his foot on the bottom of the three steps, his whole body seeming to tilt to the side in curiosity. He looked up towards the top floor of the house, where he probably thought you were fast asleep. You saw him place his hand up to his chest and he gave a small bow to your house, before retreating without the basket. You were stunned, shocked and so confused. What was he? Why did he do these things for you? Why would he be out in such weather? Where was his family? It was curiosity that lead you to spring up from your seat and run to the back door as a crash of thunder masked you opening the door. “Wait!” You called out, scooping the basket up by the handle. The figure froze, his entire body seeming to turn to rock at the sound of your voice. You took a few more steps out, not daring to descend the steps into the rain just yet. You wanted to keep the food dry. “Please, will you take this?” You asked, hoping your question would draw some kind of response out of him. Which it did. He turned, but in a strange kind of way. His lower half turned a quarter of the way towards you while the top half twisted fully, keeping his head low and covered by the hood. It was very unnerving to watch, and reminded you that something just wasn’t quite right about him. “For helping me. I want you to have it.” You manage to speak, keeping the fear from affecting your voice.   A crash of lightening followed by a roll of thunder as if showing some kind of inner battle the man was obviously having with himself. You were just a woman, alone in your home. He had no reason to fear you. You had no weapons, nor was there anyone close by who would be able to help you. If anything, you should be scared of him. But something was different about him. “Please.” You repeated, keeping your voice soft. This seemed to be enough to persuade him back to you, approaching you in such a manner that reminded you of a stray dog approaching a human who had offered it food. It wanted the food, yes, but it was scared of the hand that gave it. As he reached the bottom of the small set of stairs, you couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by him. Even with you at the top stair, he was taller. The light from the house didn’t give you enough light to see his face. Holding out the basket, you smiled. He hesitated, but raised his right hand to take the basket. As he did so, the sleeve fell back, revealing a wrist with a deep scar running around the wrist and down beneath his sleeve. The flesh itself was a little… off in colour. But the scar looked painful. You couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips as you looked up at him. At the wrong time. A bolt of lightening lit up the sky and, for the first time, you saw his face. A gaunt face looked back at you. Thin lips with barely any colour behind them were opened slightly in surprise. His cheeks bones were prominent, and his skin the same as his hand, looking slightly off and discoloured. His nose was missing, and chunk and several scars ran across this face, almost like a doll that had been ripped apart and sow back together again. But his eyes. They were a yellowish colour, with the left one having another scar running from the bottom of his eye right down his cheek to his jaw. They were wide, surprised, like a deep that had been scared by the sudden attack of a bear. How quickly your metaphor for him had changed, from a bear to a deer. He seemed terrified of you. Yet he could easily turn on you and you were very aware of that fact.   But as quickly as the lightening had struck, it was gone, replaced with a thundering bang. The man ducked his head, retreating into himself as he turned on his heels and fled. Caring little for the rain or your own safety, you ran after him, calling out for him to wait. It would seem that his great height left him at a disadvantage to you, as you were able to catch up wit him before he reached the edge of the woods. “Wait, please!” You cry out, reaching out and grabbing his cloak and digging your heels into the ground. The man let out a grunt, twisting towards you as if expecting you to attack him, causing his hood to fall back and reveal black hair. He winced and it hit you. He didn’t want you to see him not because he didn’t want you to know who he was, but because of the way he looked. “Im sorry. The thunder and lightening just frightened me, that’s all.” You lied through your teeth. You were already soaked to the bone from the rain, which pelted down with little chance of stopping soon. The wind whipped your hair out of place, almost blowing you off of balance. Yet he stood strong a tree. As if to prove that you weren’t scared of him, you reached out and took his right hand, raising it with is palm upwards. He jumped at the touch, his skin freezing and his hand now tense. Raising it, you hooked the basket in his hand. Once he had the weight, you used both your hands to close his fingers over the handle. “As a thank you for everything you’ve done.” You smile up at him, his eyes so bright without the hood. He was handsome, at least to you. So unique and unknown. You would be lying if you said he didn’t intrigued ou unlike any man you had ever met. “do you have a name?” You asked, suddenly doubting if he even understood you. Perhaps he was mute, or didn’t understand your language. He nodded, his tongue darting out as if to wet his bottom lip despite the fact his face was soaked. “Adam.” A deep voice replied. “Im [y/n].” You told him, as if the two of you were meeting for the first time at some ball or in a local shop. He repeated it back to you, like it was the most beautiful word he had ever heard and just had to make sure he could say it right. A gust of wind ripped through the garden and hit you like a ton of bricks. You fell forward, loosing your footing as you let out a yelp. But a strong arm caught you and, before you could even realise what had happened, you were swept up like a bride. He had dropped the basket to catch you and now proceeded to carry you back through your garden. You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you stared up at him while his gaze remained solely on the path. You could see how tense his jaw was, like he was grinding his teeth together. As he climbed the bottom two steps and was about to put you back on your porch, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He froze. His mouth slightly open and his eyes wide, as if he were unable to believe it. You took the opportunity to swing out of his grasp, now standing on your own feet. “You’d better get home and dry off. The storm looks like it will only worsen tonight. You’ll catch your death.” You look up at the sky. You were pulled from your thought by a soft chuckle, one which made your cheeks burn and your heart stop. It was low, almost too low to hear. You looked to him and saw amusement in his eyes. He doesn’t hold your eyes for more than a second before dropping them, bowing to you. “Thank you for your concern, but I shall be fine.” He speaks with such an elegance that doesn’t quite fit his features. “well, Adam, perhaps you should come back tomorrow, just to let me know you are safe?” You ask, biting your lower lip. his head snaps up, his eyes wide with disbelieve and… hope. a single nod confirms his return as he retreats away from you for the final time that night. He pulls his hood back up and turns away, walking back to the basket, which had landed on the path, but nothing had spilled out. You hoped the blanket that covered it would be enough to protect the content from the rain. he scooped it out, glancing back at you. You smiled and waved, backing into your doorway and closing it. It was all suddenly so quiet without the wind and rain in your ear. You locked the door, unable to stop from smiling as you went to the window, seeing him take one last look at where you had been before disappearing into the woods. You couldn’t help but bursting feeling in your chest that wanted to dance until he returned, nor how his face was burned into your mind in a good way. There was still so many question in your mind. Who was he? Where did he come from? Why did he have those scars? And you couldn’t quite work out if he was the bear or the deer.

[loverofyaoi22]

Error rushed into the void calling to him. He needed to escape, he needed to get away from Ink. He didn't want to be forced into destroying again, he couldn't take it! He wouldn't take it!he jumped to escape Ink, not to fall straight back into Fates arms and torture. ‘NO! I will not go through that again! I refuse!’ He thought in desperation as he fell. Ink and Skull watched in solute horror as the glitchy skeleton before them fell into an endless black void, his two little bitty bones crying out for him and charging into the void as well.

“Daddy!”

“Awaa!”

‘I don’t want to loose our daddy! He gave us warmth, kept us safe! He saved us! I don’t want to loose him! I choose to say with him!’ Null thought as he was caught by his father and held close to his chest. The void made them feel hidden and shrouded in safety as they fell asleep, falling and falling deeper into the abyss of codes and mystery.

As soon as the bitty bones fell into the void after their father, it closed up and leaving no indication that a portal even opened up in the first place and swallowed up the three skeletons who clearly had gone through a lot in their life time. Fate would have laughed at the fear Error displayed at Ink’s counterpart. Ink fell to his knees and sobbed as he realised someone who looked like him had hurt the other skeleton so bad he broke down in-front of him and would rather jump into the place of no returns than be with him. Fear. Fear was a powerful choice motivator. When scared people make the choice best in their favour after all. Skull turned to him, fury painted all over his skull.

Skull was furious, no not even furious he was beyond that. His blood boiled in rage at the fact that Ink could hurt someone so bad that once they came face to face again, the other panicked and instead of facing his abuse again jumped into the dark realm. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Skull screamed, his hands clenched at his sides and shaking as Toriel and everyone else decided to look at the sobbing artistic skeleton.

"I did nothing! I don't know who he is!" Ink sobbed out in despair. “I don’t know who he is!” His soul beat was sporadic but was heavy as he fell apart. His soul went out to the three who felt the need to throw themselves into the void to escape their pain, to escape their abuse, their chains of hell. He wanted to find the person called 'Inky' and tear him to pieces whilst he demanded what the other had done to receive such bad treatment it had scarred him indefinitely. "Then why did he freak out when he saw you?!" Skull demanded, picking the other up by his scarf and slamming him against the wall with a crashing thud. Ink let out a moan of pain as the back of his skull cracked and began to cry even more; rainbow tears flowing down his face.

"I don't know! I don't know, okay!" Ink gasped out, his teary and darkened eye meeting the glowing left eye of Skull. Papyrus gulped as his brother stared deep into Ink's eyes and kept him pinned to the wall. Skull was fuming and he felt over whelming sadness in the atmosphere where the glitchy skeleton and his two boys had been moments earlier. "B-brother, let him go. He hasn't done anything." Papyrus stuttered.

By the way Ink was acting, he doubted that he was the one to hurt him and by looking briefly at the damage the other one had sustained from head to toe was way too much for Ink to do on his own or even do with just his magic alone. Ink refused got hurt people unless necessary and even then he exhausted his other options first.

Skull sighed and let Ink go who fell to the floor with a dull thud and shuddering breath as he tried to get his emotions under control. "How could someone do that and live with themselves?" The artistic skeleton asked as he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. Thought and questions swam in his head as to why someone would hurt someone so badly, they looked ready to fall apart at any given moment.

Error reminded him china. It was easy to put together when given glue but it was fragile as its main structure was still damaged and if anymore strain is put on the weak structure, it would break even more without a way to repair it. That’s what Error was. Broken china that Ink and Fate broke and kept gluing back together, expecting him to be the same as before.

"I don't know Ink but I swear to fucking god when i find out where and who Inky is, I'm going to pump that bastard with so much goddamn lead, he'll be dead within seconds. He will pay for hurting an innocent monster." Skull growled out, eye flickering with blue and yellow flames as his clenched, shaking hand became shrouded with magic.

Ink sniffed and stood up next to him, taking his paintbrush off his back and his eye glowing a well.

"I'lo help you with that." Ink said in a dark, underlying growl that held the promise of death and punishment for the person who had hurt them and make them suffer the same way he was forced to suffer. Papyrus sighed and his facial expression changed into one of seriousness.

He was going to help his brother find out who had hurt the other fellow monster and make sure that he got the comeuppance they deserved.

"I'll help you brother. The person will pay for sure." He said, his voice losing its high pitch and becoming deep and devoid of emotion. Undyne's eye backs white and black as her lips were pulled back in a snarl, a spear materialising within in her hand as she wiped her own face clean of tears. The cries and the sobs of pain from the other as well as the magic made her soul shudder and cry out to bring justice to their abuser. "Count me in. What happen to them was in humane and will not be left unpunished." She promised.

Toriel wiped her face as she got her breathing under control. Glaring, she went into her room and walked over to her dresser that was made of light brown wood and kept in pristine condition. The handles were made of gold and had floral designs on them, meaning the dresser was not cheap and made of high quality.

She had picture frames of her children smiling happily in oak picture frames along with bottles of perfume and a black and green jewellery box that Asgore got her years ago.

Toriel smiled sadly at the reminders of her children. God how she missed them so and wished to have them back in her awaiting arms again but alas that was not to be. Bringing two of her fingers to her lips, she kissed her finger tips and pressed it to the picture frame in a kiss before opening the top drawer open and rifling through the clothes she had in there.

Screw not getting her hands dirty, someone out there had hurt three children beyond trusting others and being clueless about the world that was around them. Seeing the taller monsters wounds, She felt anger fill her being and had to stop herself using healing magic as she said she would let him take care of it. Pulling out a revolver pistol, she made sure there was bullets within the chamber and closed the drawer behind her.

As she walked out of her room, she shut and locked the door. "I'll help you on your journey." She told them grimly, ignoring their looks of shock. "After 10 years are you sure Toriel?" Asgore asked, even though he was going to join them too. Ever since his ex-wife left him and his children died he had hated the idea of children getting hurt and so if those three had been hurt, it was clear the person who did was still out there and capable of doing it to more people. "Yes i am. I will not let someone hurt people like that ever again."

Ink nodded grimly. "I'll tell the others to look around within their Au's for anyone or people capable of doing such harm to a monster as its clear he isn't from this AU. I'll let my brother know whilst you lot look around here and spread the word of What hands happened. We need to find who did it so they can have justice." Ink growled out and with a swing of his paintbrush, opened a portal and left.

Skull sighed and held his gun close. He was going to pump the fucker with so many bullets as well as their accomplices that they would beg for mercy and would suffer. Too bad the ones they wanted were in another Multiverse and the line of people was endless.

Destiny couldn't believe that Error threw himself back into the void with the little ones he had found. They were somewhat successful in giving him a family to call his own. She looked round the multiverses for an au to pout him in yet most paths had too many setbacks and roadblocks that would cause more damage. They began to panic. They couldn’t help their child! Destiny kept looking around for another multiverse to put her child in so he could grow as it seemed that this one was too much like his old one.

Choice looked at Error and looked at the damaged. All the cracks, scars and cuts with broken bones. Man, Fate had finally lost it! How could they do that and live happily everyday! Choice frowned and looked at Error’s choices. Error chose to jump and change his destiny, he chose to save the boys and fight Gaster, he chose to jump again. Choice smirked. Afterall it was thanks to someones choices that allowed them to change their destiny. Destiny and Choice were so intwined, this would be perfect!

Thanks to the choices that Error chose to take to change his destiny, they could intervene. Their little pawn was a great choice to help him heal and move on from the set backs Fate put him through. Never forget that a persons choices were very powerful on coursing through their destiny and life. Using magic, they made their little pawn pulse with magic which would catch Destiny’s attention.

Destiny did notice the pulse wave coming from a multiverse next door to their own. Like their own multiverse, this one had a built in balance and already had an Ink but he was completely different from the other two Ink's This multiverse was ruled by Choice, not Destiny or Fate so he would be safe. Smiling in relief, Destiny decided to put Error within that AU but they had to change his code. The inhabitants of that multiverse was we're all half mythical folk law such as angels, demons, vampires, etc. So if Error was to blend in as well as his sons, their codes would have to be tweaked a bit to fit the multiverse and AU's liking.

They held her child and grandchildren close, stroking the cracks in his arm bones again and humming a little song that made Error relax in their grip and give a slight smile. Null and void were in his arms, close to his chest and fast asleep. "My child, you have a new home for you and your little ones. Someone is waiting for you and I'm sure she will help you find more than you know."

Grabbing some codes from the AU, Destiny began to add the code fragments to their own codes as well as push, pull, break and rearrange some of the coding as well as add in more. "I'm sorry for this pain my sweet child." Destiny finished what they were doing and with a parting forehead kiss, let their chosen child fall safely onto the mossy floor of the forest they had placed them. Destiny smiled sadly as all three of them whimpered as the code changes, changed their physiology slightly and made way for new magic and appendages.

"Here you go." They stated as they turned to the person who would help her child find friends and teach him the things he forgot such as social interaction. They despised Fate and Inky for hurting her child, for making him suffer simply because Inky was a huge brat and would end up killing thousands of other monsters simply because he couldn't listen to Fate's word. Fate would lose in the end and would suffer for what they had done to their child, Destiny would make sure of that. After all, Karma was a good friend of theirs.

Turning to the girl who would help her child, they whispered in her ear "Help my child grow and love him for him. Give him friends and teach him." That was all they could do. To see if they had made the right choice, they would have to wait. The girl stopped walking and looked around for the owner of the beautiful feminine voice."hello?" She called into the surrounding shrubbery but no one answered, not even a sound or rustle.

The girl shrugged and continued humming as she continued her way towards the market place nearby not knowing what would happen. Choice smirked as Destiny gave their child to their little pawn who would help him. “Truce accepted Destiny.” They crooned. Destiny looked at them and said “This will be a long truce, one that will help the multiverses.” Choice nodded and together they watched how this would play out.

Error jumped into the void and gasped as Null and Void jumped in after him. He held onto them tightly, bringing the two babybones close to his chest as they fell deeper and deeper into the black void. As he fell, he frowned. Why did the two jump in after him?! He was too dangerous to be with, why couldn't they see that? Why couldn't they see the chains he chocked on? He didn't deserve to keep something so innocent after all the killing he was forced to do but at the same time he wanted them to be his sons; HIS babybones.

He gasped slightly as the familiar feeling of love and protection surrounded him again and held him close. He couldn't open his eyes, he was too tired to. He felt the other touch and trace his cracks in his ulna's and radius again like they did the first time. He loved the feeling of love and sheer happiness for him as he was starved from it for so long.

"My child, you have a new home for you and your little ones. Someone is waiting for you and I'm sure she will help you find more than you know." The voice said. Error smiled and relaxed within their grip, happy to be held without pain or threats.

The magic reminded him of a caring mother. He felt whoever it was pull his code out but he was too tired to care. He gave a slight flinch when he felt them mess with his code and add to it. "I'm sorry for this pain my sweet child." He took notice to the song the person hummed before feeling like he was falling again.

He landed on something soft and the smell of forest planets made his nose twitch. His sons whimpered as did he as pain overcame his whole body, even more painful than any wound the others could give him over took his body. He felt himself changing and something forming on his skull and at tailbone. 'Please, make it stop!' He though. It felt like he was being beaten again as his tail bone split and lengthened into tails that soon became heavy with a soft metrical and something grew on his head.

As soon as the pain started, it receded and he relaxed on the soft material he fell upon. Feeling comfortable, he held his sons close and fell asleep for the second time in decades within minutes; tired from using his magic to open the void and fall into it. His kitten like snores filled the surrounding forest as he slept and Destiny couldn't help but laugh. They had been successful. Choice smiled at the others happiness.

Her child would have set backs and would need to learn to use his powers again, but he would heal here and he would get the love and support he needed, they were sure of it. Pleased with their decision, Destiny sat back and watched their child sleep.

Error awoke the next day by Null patting his face with a tiny hand. "Daddy, wake up. Some'ing has happened to us." Null squeaked out. Error sat up immediately when Null said something had happened to them. He would protect what was his even if it meant he had to become the destroyer again. "WhAt hApPeNeD tO yOu NuLl?" Error demanded. He looked around at the surround green and vibrant bushes and foliage; realising they were in a forest. A tropical forest to be exact.

Null giggled. "I have ears and six tails!" He squealed. He awoke to Void cooing and patting his cheek. He opened his eyes to come face to face with his baby brother. He gasped when he saw the white furry fox ears on top of his skull and six small white furry tails coming from his tail bone. Both the ears and tail were tipped pastel orange. He sat up with Void babbling in his arms and noticed he too had a tail and ears. Like his brother they were white but tipped pastel blue.

'I wonder if daddy is like us?' He thought as he turned to his father who had saved them and protected them form HIM. Error was like them but slightly different so he woke him up. His daddy had to know how different they looked. Error looked at Null and Void, gasping at the new appendages his sons had. Brining a hand to his skull, he found he had two furry appendages of his own. "YOu tWo ArE tO sTaY bY mY sIdE iN hErE, oK?" He said as he picked them up.

"Ah! Ah!" Void giggled happily, slapping his chest and Null nodded. "Okay daddy." He said with a small yawn. Error smiled and looked around. The trees were tall, taller than him and covered in jade coloured leaves. Some trees were low to the ground and twisting across the mossy and grassy floor. Flowers of all colours in bushes surrounded them, filling the air with a soft perfume fragrance.

The sunlight coming through the leaves above told him they were above ground again as well as the soft warm breeze. He walked off and looked at the flowers. Hydrangeas, orchids, pansies, all types of flowers surrounded them as well as different leafs. "Wow, pretty!" Null said as he craned his neck to look around. Error chuckled. "I kNoW."

Coming to a pond, he bent down onto his knees and put the boys down. Null held Void close as he looked around at the surrounding flowers around the pond. Error looked into the water at his reflection and he did not anticipate the reflection staring back at him. On top his skull was black to blue gradient fox ears with a red inside and behind him was six black to blue gradient fox tails that were huge.

'Great, I'm no longer just skeleton monster." He thought sourly. Why couldn't he just be normal for once? Oh, that's right, because he never got what he wanted. "CoMe oN boYs, LeTs go-" Error said as he picked the boys up. He was going to find a way out of the forest when he heard a scream. "SOMEONE HELP ME!" It was female and young. He frowned. He was going to stop whatever was happening from happening or he wasn't Error.

[crqstalite]

lacuna.

(n.) a blank space, a missing part.

for MER 2020. day 7, celebration. set in 2185 [ME2].

-

She's still groggy as hell when the comm to effectively her new boss shuts off, readjusting her eyes to the dark comm room and rubbing the nonexistent sleep out of her eyes. Sore in a few places (all of them, there wasn't a single place that didn't strain when she moved -- bitterly she wonders who in hell woke her up apparently six months too early, and if they were still alive she was going to smack them to hell and back), and she can't help but gingerly touch the scars on her jaw. It was surreal to both be here, with Cerberus of all people, and to even be alive at all. To have to credit them with bringing her back to life, functional as far as she was concerned, was a little disquieting.

It's her, as much as she knows. Her thoughts still feel like her own. Her memories are all still there, fresh in her mind.

Two years, and twelve days. She can't believe it'd been that long, it felt like a very painful nap from when she'd suffocated in the wreckage of the Normandy, to when she woke up in the lab. Only a few moments before she was thrusted back into the waiting hands of the devil who couldn't let her die. Her first thought had been Joker as she raced around the station avoiding mechs left and right, she knew that the rest of the crew had gotten off the ship before she even reached the cockpit, but she'd been terrified she'd sacrificed her own life only to have one of her friends die on her. Then it'd been the rest of the crew, Liara, Garrus, Wrex, Tali.

Kaidan. To hear the Illusive Man confirm he was still alive gave her some peace of mind among all the unknowns. What he'd say to her new allegiances, she didn't know. But if he was still Alliance, and Anderson was still alive, she could find him. Explain what was going on, bring him back onto the crew. Then do the same with the rest of them, though finding them sounded significantly more difficult than finding a fellow officer.

Two years and twelve days she'd spent on that operating table on the Lazarus Project station, having Cerberus do God knew what to her to bring her back to life. There had to be some serious tech involved, because while Miranda had confirmed that no, she wasn't a cyborg and would still pass as organic, there was no way someone spent four billion credits to bring back a simple soldier who'd probably burned up past recognition on reentry.

742 days of being technically dead, dead as a doorknob really.

Miranda said they'd restored her as is. But something about this body just felt off. Maybe because she'd lost the muscle she once had, making the armor set much heavier than she remembered on her now lithe body. The textures felt weird pressing against her skin, the curls on her head completely gone in favor of her natural hair, short and fluffy and in a style she hadn't worn since basic training all those years ago. Other than the scars on her face, every other one was just...gone. Even the one on the back of her neck from the fight with Saren's corpse was missing, smooth, untouched skin there instead.

Skin grafts, if she had to make a guess. Though, it was so seamless when she'd been able to remove her armor before the mission to Freedom's Progress that she wasn't entirely sure what to believe. Was she still her? That was the real question. Looking into a mirror in the bathroom, the scars glowed red omniously. Organic was what she hoped she was, but that was beginning to look like too much to wish for.

Freedom's Progress was just a big disassociation fest, getting used to the off center weight of the N7 armor (it wasn't like any model she'd seen before, which was to be expected two years after the last time she'd been in armor), the use of apparently thermal clips (the hell were those?) and the fact she didn't have a supply of omni-gel at her disposal anymore (which she relied on when she didn't have Kaidan, Garrus or Tali in her immediate squad). It didn't feel like her body that was taking every shot with wavering accuracy. It didn't feel like her who'd reunited with Tali and helped her with Veetor.

She didn't like 2185 to begin with, and it only kept getting worse. Human colonies, abductions, Cerberus, Collectors. None of it seemed real. Sarcastically she wonders how the galaxy went to shit as soon as she died.

It still felt so weird saying that.

She'd died.

And now the Illusive Man was giving her a ship, which she's assuming is fully kitted, paid for by who knew what funds, and either a very cocky pilot or a very capable one.

The hopeful thought flits across her mind before she even hears his voice from behind her, "Hey, Commander. Just like old times, huh?"

She can't stop the smile that spreads across her expression, feeling relief wash over her body as she turns from the comm station.

Joker.

Of course, it'd be Joker. She doesn't know how it could've been anyone else, and damn well she wouldn't accept anyone else. Except she's not entirely sure how to react, instead walking over to him on unfamiliar legs, "I can't believe it's you, Joker." She says, just a little incredulous as he turns up the stairs, and she follows without another word, taking in the sight. How he's up and walking -- albeit more limping than anything else, but still worlds better than the first time she'd met him, is a question for later. One of the thousands that she figures he can answer better than the Illusive Man, Miranda or Jacob combined.

Shit, she's never been so happy to see her pilot before.

"Look who's talking, I saw you get spaced." He answers sarcastically, though she can hear a smile in his voice, maybe just as happy to see her as she is to see him. It's unsettling to see him in Cerberus colors, yet she's sure he has some funky reason for it. Yet his response is the most familiar thing she's had since she woke up.

Her throat tightens up just thinking about the moments before she'd lost consciousness, choking on the lack of air as the vacuum of the galaxy spun around her in a dizzily pretty array.

She wills the memory away.

"I got very lucky, with a lot of strings attached, unfortunately," She deadpans, feeling one of her knees crack again, the shift of armor scratching through her undersuit. Another Cerberus sigil on the wall sends shivers down her back, "How'd you get here?"

"It all fell apart without you, Commander. Everything you stirred up, the Council wanted gone," He sounds disappointed, and she grits her teeth. Of course they did, they didn't believe her about Saren until it was too late, she wouldn't put it past them to forgo believing her about the Reapers either. To keep their idea of peace instead of acting on the writing on the wall, deciding to paint over it entirely. It was going to get them killed and doom the galaxy, "Team was broken up, records were sealed, and I was grounded. The Alliance took away the only thing that mattered to me. Hell yeah I joined Cerberus."

It was an injustice enough to keep Joker anywhere but on the Normandy. Considering his words, they turn a corner. There's someone else standing at a large bay window as her next question dies in her throat, taking in their appearance. A woman with tanned brown skin, she thinks, staring out into what she thinks is a hangar, dark hair in a ponytail pulled through the back of her hat. She's dressed identically to Joker, and when she hears them talking, she turns her head towards them, arms crossed over her chest.

"Commander," She nods, smiling, "Good to see they finally got you out of that bed, hermana."

It takes her just a second to recognize the slight accent, the way she holds herself. Her green blue eyes boring into her soul from underneath the SR-2 hat. The tiny frame that could still throw a Mako over her head with her biotics if she wanted to. The grin that has a mischief undertone to it.

The other woman barrels into her while Kodelyn holds her arms out for her. Her sister's arms hold her tightly, and she embraces her just as tight back. Afraid to let go, almost. As terrifying as it was to think Cerberus had gotten their grubby hands on her younger sister, she's just glad to see her alive and well. Tears are pooling in her eyes as Citlali mumbles something into her shoulder, before pulling back with a grin, "It's...it's great to see you. Thought Miranda was crazy at first with this whole Lazarus Project thing. Didn't think a word of what she said was possible, still I went anyway because it was you. Damn glad I was wrong."

"I-yeah. Yeah, Lali, I've never been so glad to see you somewhere you don't belong." She says sarcastically, though unable to keep from a small chuckle.

"Hey, I belong just as much as Joker here does," She laughs herself, gently pulling her by the hand over to the hand over to the window, which she assumes is a dark hangar that houses the new ship they'd be using. She has a million questions about how she ended up here, where her parents were, where her brother was, yet she bites her bottom lip to keep from going on a tangent, "Whether I belong here or not is beyond the point, sis. We've got a mission to do, and I'm sure as hell not going to let you do it alone."

"Excuse you, she wasn't going to do it alone whether you were here or not," Joker reminds the sisters of his presence, her sister giving her a look that was half offended, half amused. If she had to take a guess, they'd been here together a while. More questions cropped up, now how Joker was brought on, and then how Miranda managed to convince her sister to come onto what she believes is her new crew. Hopefully because she's not in armor, she won't be on the squad.

"You trust the Illusive Man?" She asks skeptically, turning back to the pilot and raising an eyebrow. Kodelyn didn't trust him as far as she could probably throw him, which probably was rather far. Her sister shrugs.

"I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do," Joker deadpans, and Citlali snickers here, classic Joker, "But they aren't all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly--"

Citlali moves to flicker a light on nearby, "Let us fly."

At the most, that answers her earlier question. If anything, now her sister was living the dream she'd had for years. Just for a mix of all the wrong and right reasons.

"And, there's this." He says, gesturing out to the dark hangar, lights flashing on. They glint off a ship she can't make out just yet, but her eyes widen as she puts the pieces together. The familiar design and hull of the ship, the pattern that jumps out at her once enough lights are on, "They only told us last night."

SR-2 is painted near the cockpit, Cerberus' logo following after it. She's stunned, and for good reason. They built the new Normandy while she was sleeping, and she has more concerns the Alliance might have moles in their company if they got plans for the new version. But her heart still swells seeing it, her smile only growing. Having both one of her friends and her sister by her side, and the Illusive Man's ominous answer to her questions on her squadmates...well she has some hope she'll see them all again.

"It's good to be home, huh Commander?" Joker asks, turning his attention back to her.

"I guess we'll have to give her a name." Kodelyn concludes.

"She's got a name, just a different designation is all," Citlali answers, breaking her immersion in awe by bumping her shoulder, "C'mon. The crew's already on board, plus Miranda will have our heads if we don't leave on time."

This is all crazy, she thinks as they meet Miranda and Jacob at the door, Joker and Citlali going ahead without her. She's given her own Cerberus issue clothes, different than her pilots' and what she assumes is the Captain's version of it. Someone else takes her armor plates from her, and she finds it rather easy to slide the clothes on over her undersuit and change out of it. The new ship is bright, larger than before once she lays eyes on it. Huge even. The cockpit alone has it's upgrades, but the CIC is massive compared to the SR-1's.

It isn't exactly home, she finds. So many different faces wandering around the ship, so many new features that definitely weren't in the plans for the SR-1. Yeoman -- Kelly Chambers is friendly enough, though she's never had her own assistant to file things. Miranda is just as cold as she was when they first met and is apparently her XO now (not her first choice, but at the moment she doesn't have any other choices), Jacob doesn't say much she doesn't already know. Joker is just happy to be back in a Normandy, forget who built it, Citlali more than excited to finally put her schooling to use, hands flying over the controls at a speed that only her senior pilot can match. EDI is a new variable, one Joker doesn't like, one Citlali is wary of. Dr. Chakwas is a happy addition, the older woman was just as glad to see Kodelyn as she was to see her. Pressly was apparently dead, but they hadn't replaced him. Miranda got the XO position Pressly had, Citlali got the navigator duties.

Her cabin is on it's own floor, dubbed the loft by Chambers. There's a fish tank bubbling on one side of the wall, though devoid of any life so far. Fitted with a bed meant more for two, and enough work space for four.

It feels empty. Lonely even as she takes in all her new things scattered across the room.

They've got a mission to Omega, to find a Salarian doctor by the name of Solus. Dossiers for Archangel, who's also on Omega, a Krogan scientist on Korlus, and a criminal on Purgatory. None would be her first choice, but her first request was to get to the Citadel. She needed Alliance and Council allies, and she knew she could rely on Councilor Anderson. En route, they've got about a day until they dock.

While she has some worries about how it was acquired, she's more than happy when she finds nestled among her Cerberus issued belongings is a photo of Kaidan propped up on her desk. She places it back down, grinning like an idiot. He was still alive, not one of her dossiers but that was the only thing not making her want to defect entirely.

It'd be just like old times when she found everyone else. They'd take down the Collectors just as they did Saren, Cerberus or otherwise.

-

and with that i lead into the main part of eye of the storm, the mostly janky planned shenko fanfiction i was already thinking of two months ago. now given, this story takes place in ME2 (or at least ‘all the stars’ will, thats what this chapter leads into) so it won’t be as much shenko as it will be a retelling of ME2 with a few ocs. citlali is one of them, but johansson and petrakis will be part of it. some side...sort of shakarian? i only say that because brione (petrakis) is shepard in her own universe, but for now i’ll refer to that ship as petrakarian in the eye of the storm universe

now im rambling. im just happy i finished MER week is all. loosely followed the prompts lmao. >:3

[swellwriting]

LOVER 4/18

- THE MAN -

Bucky x Reader/ The Winter Soldier x Reader

A/N: You do not need to be familiar with the song/ Album to read this!!!

Word Count: 2.3k      Part 3      Series Masterlist   Part 5

Warning: Mentions of injury and blood on the wrists that may be triggering to some. (though not intentionally, they are self-inflicted...handcuffs suck.) Also Sexual references but nothing major. The usual violence.

Summary:  “You were tired of being handcuffed to a bed not allowed to leave, you hated being denied drugs and then sedated for hours on end. You wanted to have control again.”

Nat told Tony to stop holding back on your meds, and of course, he listened. Not exactly in the way she intended it to be done though. They kept you heavily sedated, unconscious for an entire day after your first “session” with Wanda.

When you finally came to you felt so groggy, you knew something was wrong. You ate the cold food placed beside your bed and decided then and there that you were going to put an end to these games, whatever Tony was playing with you. And if this meant never seeing Winter or Bucky again, you didn’t care. You were tired of being handcuffed to a bed and not allowed to leave, you hated being denied drugs and then sedated for hours on end. You wanted to have control again.

Before you were too weak to break out of your chains, but the poison has completely run its course so you take your bandage off to see your wound almost completely healed, there is a dark bruising around it and red angry lines in your skin. It will leave a scar but it fits in fine with all the others so you don't really care.

You push your bed tray onto the floor and twist the chains around your hands gripping them roughly and yanking hard on them. The handcuffs don't come free but you rip the metal bars on the sides of the hospital bed clean off, great.

You push your blankets down and all the metal junk clanks together like you’re a damn human wind chime. You push your feet against one of the metal bars and pull your hand away, the cuff digs into the skin of your wrist cutting the sides open and you try to ignore the pain since you can feel the chain weakening and then it snaps, metal clangs to the floor and you look up to see if anyone heard it and is coming.

If the nurse did hear she definitely would be running the opposite direction anyway.

You repeat your actions, place your feet on the other bar, push and pull, your other wrist gets cut open but you don't stop, you are so close, snap! The handcuffs and the bit of chain that was connecting them to the bed hang from your wrists but you are free, you feel free. As if the chains were weighing you down you feel light, at ease and it’s great, but you didn’t think this through.

What now? You look around the room and then get up and walk down the hall.

-

“I just don’t trust her, she seems wrong. Not that you can ever really trust a woman,” Tony jokes as him Sam and Steve are standing in the hallway outside the medical ward.

“So if I was a man, you could trust me?” You ask as you lean against the wall, the chains and cuffs hang broken from your wrists covered in blood from the cuts they left, blood drips down your arm and onto the floor where you riped your IV out.

“Not particularly,” Tony says and looks you down head to toe admiring your handiwork. “I take it you’re feeling better, why don't you go back and lie down,” he says and it’s so condescending you can’t help the eye roll that comes by instinct.

“I'm tired of being told what to do, of being held a prisoner even though I have done nothing wrong.” You argue.

“You say that with a lot of confidence,” Sams asks, knowing your ledger is just as red as Bucky and Nats.

“I've never done anything wrong to you guys.”

“Spring!” Wanda says, walking into the hallway seemingly the only person concerned about your bloody hands and the trail on the floor behind you, “what did you do?”

You hold up your bloody hands and shrug, aware that there wasn’t really any explaining you could do. Bruce walks down the hallways and is quick to act.

“What the f-,” he stops and wraps his hands around your wrists gently, stopping the blood flow and then walks you backwards down the hallway back to your room, glaring at Tony the entire way. This was his fault in Bruce’s eyes, he told Tony that the handcuffs should have been removed days ago.

Bruce sits you down and Wanda removes the handcuffs with her powers and you thank her, but she isn’t happy with what you’ve done and you can tell on her face.

Bruce starts cleaning the wounds and stitching you up.

“I'm sure you don’t want to “talk” today,” Wanda asks, still unsure of what to call this thing you are doing, this treatment?

“No we can, I'm fine, was just tired of those cuffs, we can start now if you’d like.” You try to sound not so upset but you’re so tired of being treated the way you have been, of being told what to do, of being talked down to and treated differently. You remember the first time Hydra tried to treat you differently than Winter, and you remember the fit you threw to make sure it never happened again.

It’s what your mind goes to as you close your eyes, Wanda’s red glowing hands the last thing you see before the memories start like pressing a play button.

-

“Asset, you can’t go on this mission, It’s one for The Winter Soldier only, it’s too high stakes and you aren’t ready.” An unnamed officer explains to you as if you are too stupid to understand him. You are stood in one of the labs, having your blood drawn by a lab assistant to your left who seems nervous, looking over your face to see a reaction to being told no.

“Did Winter say that?” You ask.

“No, I did.” Strucker, the Head of your Hydra base among many others, said sternly and you went quiet. “You aren't as strong as him, you aren't as quick or skilled yet, we can’t afford to let this mission fail because we let some girl handle it.”

And something about the way he says that makes your blood boil with rage, like a kettle boiling over you are unable to contain your inner thoughts.

“So If I was a man I could go on the mission. If I was a big strong man I could handle this simple intel mission on my own. I'm so sick of being built up to be this big weapon for Hydra, your big threat only for you to ridicule me and limit me to missions that require seduction and tight dresses as if I couldn’t slit a man’s throat with pants on!”

The unnamed officer lets out a laugh and you give him a deadly glare before looking back to Strucker. He ignores you and you continue, you’ve said too much to take it back so you might as well vent.

“I'm so sick of running as fast as I can and trying to learn everything as fast as I can, perfecting my skills, proving I can be better than Winter in some things. Now I’m left to wonder If I could be Hydra’s number 1 soldier if only I was a man since that seems to be all that’s holding me back!” You yell which startles the lab assistant who is quickly finishing up taking your blood sample, removing the needle and then backing away to the safety of his desk.

“Perhaps you’d be number one if you weren’t sleeping with your coworkers,” the officer jokes, clearly referring to you and Winter even if they aren't certain of what’s going on.

“Yes because that would be a total one-sided thing, I should be punished for seducing him, yet he shouldn’t get reprimanded at all for fucking me as if it would be a one-person job that I’m doing all by myself!” You say with vigour, hatred laced in your voice for the officer. You don't know his name but he is quickly becoming the person you hate most, and that says a lot since you are in a room with Strucker.

“Well if it is a two-man job you just let me know.” The officer says and it would sound like a joke but the look in his eyes tells you it’s everything but, a threat he wishes he could hold up to. He leans in close as he unties the rubber band from your arm, touching your skin with grabby fingers, putting his face all too close to yours.

Perhaps it’s because you know they see you as just a woman who can’t control her emotions, they paint you up to be so bad, a hostile and reckless killing machine but they don't trust you. So in your mind, it’s okay that you’re mad, that you’re fed up and you’ve had enough. 

You want to be taken seriously but everything that’s been wired into your brain says there is only one way to show that. So before he can even finish laughing to himself at his own joke, or before he can imagine fucking you in his head you put an end to his thoughts altogether. You close the distance between you in seconds and tackle him to the ground.

“Oh if I was a man, then id be The Man.” You say as you spit in his face. Strucker, the head of Hydra stands there and watches, not stopping you, wanting to see the weapon he created in action. You grab your knife from your thigh holster and slit his throat wide open deep. There’s so much blood that your hand is dripping wet before you pull it away. There is blood splattered on your face and in your hair, your knees are in the puddle that’s quickly growing and u smudge it across the floor and get up.

“Make sure your officers know their place, I am not below them. Number 2 on your list is still miles above them, I am no one’s toy or object. I do my job and I do it well, I deserve their respect!” You say with wild eyes, covered in blood, yet you don’t scare Strucker in the least.

“I’ll make sure they are aware, Asset Number 2,” he says your given name so boldly, to remind you that you may be no object of the officers, but you are his object, his asset and he is Hydra.

Just then Winter walks in completely confused by the scene in front of him, but he has to act like he doesn't care too much. He can’t let them know he is really in love with you. Sure they may be onto the fact that something is going on, especially after what the now dead and forever nameless officer said to you.

There is no harm in sexual relations between their top two soldiers. They aren't about to try to actively stop you, but they aren't going to openly allow it either. Soldiers, Assets they think you have no feelings, so there no harm in acting on basic human needs right? Who else did they think Winter would want to sleep with? Some lowly officer? A lab assistant? No, of course not, he chose the closest thing to his equal, or that’s how they see it anyway.

You walk past Winter without a word, you aren't mad at him. You want nothing more than to fall into his arms and cry and complain but you can’t do that here, can’t show weakness. So you walk down the hallway with your head held high. The officers and lab rats stare as you pass them, a bloody smeared smile on your face daring them to test you, showing them what happens when they cross a line with you.

Earning your respect, or maybe just fear.

“So what do you think, Soldier?” Strucker asks Winter, seemingly calm and uncaring to the whole event that just occurred.

“I'm not sure what you mean Sir?” Winter replies, standing up straight, monotone voice.

“I'm sure you can deduct what happened here, the officer on the floor pushed the other asset a little too far, made her mad and this is how she reacted. What do you think?”

“I think you made her into a weapon first, and then a soldier after. Which I don't think is a problem, just needs to be handled differently, and certainly, with a level of respect I had seen her not getting in the past.” Bucky answers clearly, trying to give a well-thought-out answer.

“I think you’re right,” Strucker says with a sickening smile as he picks up a phone and then calls some officers to the room to clean up the bloody mess.

Winter can’t help but smile inside, he should be angry that someone pushed you this far but he’s glad to know you’re standing up for yourself. He feels like he doesn't have to worry as much.

-

“That was nothing like what you showed me the other day,” Wanda says with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just where my mind brought me.”

“I've seen worse, don't worry about me.”

Bruce is patching up your wrists still, eyes wide as he doesn't look up at you.

“Sorry Bruce, I should have waited until you were further away I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. Now I know not to piss you off,” he jokes, looking up at you with a lopsided smile.

“We have to agree not to piss each other off I guess?” You joke back and he chuckles, finishing patching you up.

Tony had left the floor before the memory started, so it wasn’t accidentally projected into his mind but Steve and Sam were still down the hall, just close enough to have to witness that.

“You were harsh earlier,” Steve says, concerned.

“Harsh? I was right and we just saw that. She’s not innocent!” Same argues.

“Are any of us really?”

LOVER TAGLIST:  @bluemadcnna​​ @theboywhocriedlupin​ @siriuslyimmoony​​ @littlebittcrazy​​ @blackloveangel13​ @chipilerendi​ @galacticstxrdust​ @theseuscmander​​ @finnofamerica​​ @draqcnheartstrinq​ @aspenholland​  @carolinesbookworld​​ @bluerorjhan​ @jjacobs89​​ @livininwinteriamyoursummer​​ @itsjust-evalyn​​ @mayakblack​​ @hail-ey-sader​  EVERYTHING TAGLIST: @jordan-ia​

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Part 5

[iamartemisday]

Merry Christmas, Miss Foster! Part One

A/N: For Lokane Week, I am resurrecting the Miss Foster series!

Well sort of. The next official part of the series has been half written for... some time now. I’m working on it, but there’s a lot of other stuff going on. You know how it goes.

For those unfamiliar, the Miss Foster series is an all human AU in which Jane is a second grade teacher who ends up with Loki’s three children in his class. Said kids are a bit too smart for their ages and decide Jane is exactly the kind of person their billionaire single father needs. And since there are LOKI’S children we’re talking about, they get into some wacky hijinks along the way.

This story is honestly in kind of a grey area in terms of continuity. It’s sort of like an anime movie where the timeline isn’t clear and it’s kind of just contained within itself. Semi-canon so to speak.

Regardless, whether you know this verse or not, I hope you all enjoy and I’ll see you again tomorrow!

**

The Odinson family had a log cabin nestled on a hilltop in the heart of Lake Placid. The only thing that shocked Jane was that it wasn’t three stories. 

Snow was freshly fallen, just in time for the holidays. The sky was bright white, clouds masking the sun in preparation of another wintery onslaught. Riding in the back of a limousine, Jane flipped through several hundred stations, almost all of which were playing the same old Christmas music she knew by heart. Some of them were her favorite songs of all time. Many others she’d happily tear her eardrums out before she listened to them again.

At least the roads were clear, at least for now. The forecast called for clear skies until the 20th, when Jack Frost descended to unleash the full force of his icy fury upon the unsuspecting New York populace. Or so the weatherman rather hammily declared.

Which begged the question: why did Loki want to spend Christmas in the middle of the woods?

Another question: why did Jane agree to go with them?

It was the kids. She needed to face facts and admit to herself that for all her posturing and assertion of authority as their teacher, those three little angels wielded the power of the puppy dog eyes, and they were not afraid to use it.

“We bought this cabin from an old man who used it as a hunting lodge,” said Jormungandr. He flipped through the book in his lap. As always, it was roughly the size of his entire body. “He used to come out here with his two sons during deer season. Then one of them moved away and the other decided to be a vegan. Now he’s in Florida with his wife. He said the weather would do wonders for his aching joints.”

“I’m surprised you remember all that,” Jane mumbled. 

“Dad’s offer nearly gave him a heart attack,” said Fenrir, stretching out in his seat like he was desperate to move. “His asking price was way lower.”

“But it was worth the money,” Hela proclaimed, beaming so hard her entire face glowed. Even the scars were less apparent. “And we fixed it up real nice. We go out and chop down a giant tree, and we decorate it and we put up lights and-”

“We don’t need a play-by-play,” Fenrir snapped, shoving his sister. “And quit yelling in my ear.”

“I wasn’t yelling!” Hela yelled. “Maybe you just need to clean your ears out.”

“Maybe you do!”

“Do not.”

“Do too!”

“See?” Jormungandr smiled. “Not even any hair-pulling. They’re already in the holiday spirit.”

“They most certainly are,” said Loki. 

He drove over a rough patch in the road, the tires grinding through the rocks and making the inside jostle. Jane held tight to the dashboard until the road smoothed out. As expected, Loki had no reaction to it at all. He guided the car along the dirt path like he’d been doing it all his life. Like maybe he came out every summer to hunt deer now.  Jane tried to picture him in a plaid shirt with a vest over it and a hunter’s cap. She wished she could laugh at the ridiculous idea, but like everything else the asshole wore, the idea just made her cheeks warm.

The mountains were lovely, she couldn’t deny that. Swathes of fir trees and a pure white sky gave the jagged cliff sides that picturesque quality Thomas Kinkade painting were made for. In fact, Jane was pretty sure she had seen these mountains in one of his greeting cards. Maybe Loki owned land around the cabin and licensed it out. For all she knew, they filmed Hallmark movies out here. Hell, maybe she was about to star in her own Hallmark movie. 

Rich, handsome single father locked in a cabin for a week with his children’s second grade teacher. It practically wrote itself.

“What’s funny?” Loki asked.

Jane started. “Huh? I wasn’t laughing.”

“But you were smiling.” 

“Smiling doesn’t mean something is funny,” Jane sat up straighter in her seat, “I might just like to smile.”

“Like Buddy the Elf?”

“Yes, exactly. Thank you, Hela.”

The little girl beamed, her lips lined with chocolate as she reached for the bowl of M&Ms. “Maybe we can watch it tomorrow. Tonight is The Muppet Christmas Carol.”

“Since when do you get to decide what movie we watch?” Fenrir snatched the M&Ms away. “I want to watch Die Hard.”

“Die Hard is for the 26th, Fenrir,” Hela retorted. 

“Guys, come on,” Jane said, adjusting the rear view mirror to see them better. “We can decide when we get there what to watch. And don’t eat all of those. You’re going to get sick.”

“Don’t worry, they’re sugar free,” said Fenrir. “Otherwise, we’d have Jormungandr tied up in the trunk so he can’t get at them.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Jormungandr said, slamming his book shut.

“Welcome to the Odinson family Christmas,” he muttered in her ear. “Are you happy you said yes?”

Jane stared out the window as another pile of rocks whizzed by. “I’ll let you know.”

The car crawled higher and higher up the hillside. Every time Jane thought she saw a wooden roof in the distance, Loki turned a new corner. The town below had long since vanished. She wondered if they’d ever see it again. Someone had turned the radio on. The children sang along to Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, their off-key but passionate interpretation earning applause from Jane and a smile from Loki.

By the time the shadow of a slanted roof came into view, they’d gone through Christmastime Is Here and that Alvin and the Chipmunks song. Now the music faded into the background as Jane beheld a palace of a cabin in the woods. Polished wood with a stone chimney. A covered patio and an observation deck overlooking the trees. In the back was a small structure, possibly a shed or even an indoor jacuzzi. Jane had learned never to assume with this family, and always expect the unexpected.

“By the way, our basement pool is currently closed,” Loki said as they pulled into the driveway. “We’re having issues with the heating system, but someone will be out to fix it shortly.”

“Great. I didn’t even pack a suit…” 

The cold smacked Jane in the face as soon as she was out of the car. Looking around, there were ice patches everywhere. Some had been dissolved with rocksalt, but what remained made the front lawn resemble a minefield. It was a sentiment not shared by the kids, who raced to the front porch, cheering all the way.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Jormungandr hopped in place. “We’re going to put up the tree and sing Christmas carols and bake cookies and wrap presents and build snowmen and-”

“Are you sure those M&Ms were sugar free?” Fenrir asked Hela, who shrugged.

“Now now, children,” Loki chided them, “remember we’re not alone this year. Grandmother, Grandfather, Uncle Thor, and Aunt Sif will be along in just a few days. We want to kept this place clean and presentable for them, don’t we?”

“Yes, Dad,” the triplets said. They walked up the stairs, speaking softly, and didn’t start screaming again until they were safely inside. 

“A whole week out here,” Jane said, taking in the crisp mountain air. “Here I thought I’d just spend Christmas with a bowl of cereal again.”

“It won’t be that much of a change of scenery,” Loki said as the second car trailing behind them finally caught up. Out stepped a man glaring daggers at Loki. Luckily, Jane had convinced him not to actually bring any weapons. “I was nice enough to invite your dear brother along.”

“Yeah, you’re a saint, pal,” Bucky said, pushing past him. He managed to smile at Jane. Not even Loki’s presence could completely dampen his mood. 

“Whoo! That was a hell of a ride!” Bucky’s passenger proclaimed, stumbling out of the car.

Loki sniffed. “And your… Darcy.” 

Jane nodded. “Yeah, that was real nice of you.”

“You guys are lucky I couldn’t afford to go home this year,” Darcy said, flashing them a thumbs up. “By the way, I brought my own Menorah. Any place in there I can put it up?”

“The mantle should do nicely,” Loki said. “Just don’t touch anything.”

“I will do my best to respect your humble abode, Major Moneybags!” Darcy skipped along, leaving the pair, finally, completely alone.

“She needs to think up some more creative nicknames,” Loki observed, hand on his chin. “Why does she follow you everywhere?”

“Well, when I first moved into my apartment, she came over to ask if I had one of those whipped cream makers,” Jane sighed, “and then she just kind of never left.”

Loki hummed, and with that, they started for the porch. Luck, as it turned out, was on Jane’s side. She made it a full three steps before she slipped. With a yelp, she grabbed blindly for the nearest sturdy object. She hung on tight as her eyes unclouded and her mind reoriented itself. It was only then that rough leathery material in her hand shifted. Loki raised his arm, pulling Jane with him. She continued to cling to him, blinking stupidly at his chiselled features. It hit her all too late that they probably shouldn’t be doing this. 

“Uh…” Jane said, stepping away and almost slipping again. “Thanks. Sorry.”

Loki pocketed his hands and glided across the ice patches, like he controlled them as much as he did everything else in his life. “Do be more careful next time.”

“Right.” Jane shuffled after her, head bowed, face boiling. 

This was going to be a long Christmas.

[thewildwaffle]

Abduction - Chapter 19

This may be the longest chapter I’ve written so far. The next shouldn’t take long to get out either, I’ve already got a good start on it. I’ve been reading this out loud to several of my friends, and I’ve definitely noticed things change in my writing, or in my characters, or I’ve noticed plot points I started to set up and then never followed up on. I’ve said it before, this is the first draft. As always, if you have any feedback, comments, or any notes to leave, please feel free - I live for that stuff! And added bonus, it helps motivate me to write more!

Stay lovely, friends!

Also, the reason Mike decided to learn morse code is the same reason I learned it. The story Mike learned in school about the POW who used Morse Code to send a message is true and you can learn more about Jeremiah Denton here

***

First Chapter    Previous Chapter      Next Chapter

The Burnti medics hadn’t been gentle about fixing Jebannuck up. His wounds were cleaned and dressed, yes, and everything seemed to be on the mend, but the process of getting to that point had been rough. And slow. He’d made plenty of trips to infirmaries before (and probably would make more in the future if he lived through this whole ordeal). Honestly, he was surprised at the level of care he had received at all.

He didn't fight them when he was put in this cell. There would have been no sense in that really. Plus, he wouldn't have had the strength or energy to fight back even if it had been logical to do so. Whatever Commander Rozar or anyone else in charge around here had planned, he’d just have to be sure he was ready.

He hoped the humans were okay. It seemed to him that they would be. They were civilians. That's what he kept telling himself. They are civilians, he'd correct himself. They were and still are.

What troubled him really was Commander Rozar’s interest in them. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. Mike and Wenona, as well-intentioned as they were did not do themselves any favors by defending him. He had been in no danger, or at least, no immediate danger. They just worried about him. They’d jumped in to “save” him- their “friend.” Was that a normal human thing to do? Sure, he’d saved others before, crew members, teammates, civilians, employers, and the like. There’d been a reason to do so. Orders. Duty. Responsibility. He had no doubt he would do whatever it took to save another Sefra like himself, but the humans? It still puzzled him how they had seemed to adopt him into their pack bonding tendencies. It was something he never, never thought he’d be a part of.

If he was completely honest with himself, his heart felt a little warm at the idea. He chuckled to himself inwardly. Funny how close proximity and a few life-threatening experiences could bring him so close to aliens he had been trying to avoid before.

Jeb leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. Maybe that was why he’d been so well taken care of, all things considered. Whatever Rozar was planning, he needed the humans cooperation. It’d be easier to get on their good side if he was kept alive- as a show of faith at best. Or as ransom at worst.

What was the Burnti Empire planning? They wanted an alliance with Earth and were willing to destroy the planet’s relationship with the Galactic Confederation to do so. But then what? Jebannuck knew more about humans than most on his crew, they were resourceful, durable, and for the most part, glent-tic crazy. He shuddered to think about what all the Burnti Empire could accomplish with the Earthlings as allies.

He shifted. His back slid across the smooth metallic wall behind him. The pain was gone. From what he could tell, there was hardly any scarring after the medics had done their job. He could sit comfortably in his cell, or get up and move around freely. Or as freely as one could in a glorified prison cell.

It was a relief that the Burnti Empire seemed to follow a high code of treatment for their prisoners. that's great and all, but he was still a prisoner. So were Mike and Wenona. Simmo? He wasn’t really sure of her current standing. She'd be fine though. She'd find a way to sway their current predicament to her advantage. That was the way Montauk always seemed to work. Whatever her plans were, Jebannuck was sure he could rule her out of any strategies he'd have to make to get out of here. Thank goodness.

The guard somewhere outside his cell was relieved of duty. Like clockwork.

But the new guard wasn’t alone. A familiar blue scaly alien entered and stood in front of his door. Jeb recognized it as the one in the back of the throne room when they’d met Commander Rozar.

At first, it didn’t say anything, just tapped and scrolled through a datapad it held in its short stubby fingers. Jebannuck watched it silently, growing more annoyed with its presence with each passing moortik.

“If you’re here to intimidate me to give up any information, you might as well go back now and tell your superiors you failed.”

His visitor didn’t respond at first. When she did, she didn’t even look up at him.

“I think not. Besides, the information I’m after is hardly Galactic Confederation classifieds.” She made one last swipe on the datapad and looked up at him like she was calling for the next person in line at the galactic vehicle registration department. “Name?”

Jebannuck frowned. What the frewan were they playing at?

He must have been taking too long because his interrogator, a Blue Donkun if he wasn’t mistaken, tilted her head back and sighed loudly, “Name. Your name, please. I haven’t got all day.”

Whatever she was playing at, he wasn’t going to make it easy. “Tokkannib Sefra.” That was actually the name of his grandfather. He wouldn’t mind his grandson using it though, he’d died shortly after Jeb had entered basic training.

The Donkun’s face didn’t move, but it seemed to emanate a sense of tired frustration. “No. It’s Jebannuck Sefra, correct?”

Jeb leaned his head back against the wall behind him and growled. “Tell me something, is it common Burnti practice to ask questions you already know the answer to?” He lightly rubbed at his jawline, “Seems like a pretty inefficient work ethic.”

The Donkun’s short, wide snout twitched. “My orders. Your name. Jebannuck Sefra. Correct or no?”

Jeb dropped his hand back down into his lap and studied the Donkun. She was short, as most of her species are, barely reaching half of Jeb’s height. Her neck, arms, legs, everything about her was stout and somewhat blockish. Even the set of horns (if one could call them that) on her head and running down to her stubby tail were more like little white nubs than anything.

“Yes. Correct. That’s my name.”

The interrogation continued like that for several moortiks. His name. His age. His assigned ship. His assigned position aboard said ship. How he had sustained his injuries. How he and the humans had escaped Gamnut 4, and on. All of it was information they should have already known or would have been hardly inconvenienced to look up themselves. But she kept asking them, ardently typing down every answer he gave before moving on to the next question.

Finally, she asked something that once again made Jeb pause before answering.

“What was the designation code of the escape pod you used?”

Why, by all that is bright, would they need or want that information?

“I don’t see how that would be pertinent.”

The Donkun took a deep inhale and lowered the datapad slightly. “Look, this is the last thing I need. What was the designation code?”

Jeb thought about it. What was the designation code? He’d had to enter it to get it to launch it from the Gladius, and again a few times later at the console to activate different sustainability protocols. It was also painted on the hull as a way for rescuers to identify it.

“GLA-8…” he paused and tried to remember. “GLA-8-C2… Uh, C2-137, no wait, 147. I think it ended with 147.”

“GLA-8-C2-147,” the Donkun murmured slowly as she entered the information. All the while, Jeb’s mind was firing, trying to figure out why the Burnti Empire would want that information. Why would they want or need any of this information, really? Then it hit him. If rescuers could use the designation code to find a launched pod, then the Burnti could too. But why? Why would they want it? It was basically only good for spare parts at this point. Unless...

“If you think you can get anything on the Galactic Confederation from the pod’s console, you’re going to waste your time. It’s an emergency escape pod. You won’t find any information of interest to you from it.”

Again the Donkun barely looked up from her datapad as she finished up her notes. “Eh. Maybe not. We’ll see though. If there is, it will just be an added bonus for us. If not, well, no big deal. We’ll still have it in our possession as evidence.” Jebannuck frowned. “Evidence of what?” She turned around and began walking back towards the exit. “Evidence of what?!” Jebannuck climbed up to his feet, staggering a bit with his still-sore muscles.

She paused and looked back at him over her shoulder, her bored expression now tinged with annoyance. “Evidence of our rescue of the humans.”

“Your rescue? That's not what happened, that's not the truth! You abducted us!”

She hummed. “It's Commander Rozar’s truth,” she turned back and walked out the door, leaving Jeb alone with the guard once again. “So it's the only one that matters.”

***

It was bight. Like, stupid bright. Why did these lights have to be so up in his face?

Mike squinted to try to make out shapes in the shadows beyond the glowing panels surrounding him.

He'd been on film sets similar to this before, backstage sometimes when his parents had been interviewed or were guests on talk shows. He'd even been called on stage once when his parents announced that their son would be piloting a mission around Jupiter. They were going for the “family business” spin. It was a publicity stunt, really. Were there more qualified pilots in the company? You betcha. But were any of them the only son of the founders and owners of NearStar Explorations?  No, they weren't.

Maybe as it turned out, lucky them?

No. He had to stay positive. This plan was going to work. This… this had to work.

Oh, who was he kidding? With Rozar in charge of all of this, it was probably going to suck.

So, the plan. Yeah. He took in a deep breath and ran over things again in his mind.

Morse code. He’d had a few teachers and professor go over it briefly in various classes. It was simple enough. He’d even spent time trying to memorize it a time or two - the reason being that if he knew Morse code, he might be able to use it and see if there were secret messages being sent around in everyday life. Like flickering lights, or in the weird clicking noise the elevator at the academy made sometimes, etc.

As it turned out, there weren’t. Or at least, not as far as he could tell.

There was a story though, one that a teacher had shared about the uses of Morse code. It had really stuck with him through the years. During the Vietnam War, there’d been a pilot who had been shot down and captured, tortured, and later forced to appear in a press conference on tv by his captors. He said what they wanted him to say - that the POWs were being taken care of, that everything was fine, all of that. But while he was there - while he spoke, he blinked out “TORTURE” over and over in morse code.

And so he’d been practicing. He couldn’t remember all the letters he needed, but he remembered the pattern, and between him and Wenona, they figured something out. He’d also been blinking a lot lately to make what he was about to do not seem so conspicuous. It was especially easy to do when you were being blinded by stage lighting.

If he squinted or shaded his eyes, he could make out the hustle going on beyond the shadows. Strange, scaly blue aliens were bustling around, checking monitors and running cables. One with hunched shoulders and wispy hairs running down its spine ran up and clipped a small microphone inside the collar of his shirt. It was easily hidden by a colorful sash. It seemed to be part of the fashion or uniform on the ship. He wondered briefly of what the different lengths and colors meant. The ones he and Wenona had been given were a solid light blue color. It was the same color as the blue he remembered seeing on the hulls of many Burnti ships when he was still aboard the Gladius.

Red lights started glowing where he was pretty sure he’d seen cameras. Were they recording? Was this live? Or were they just going to record it and edit it? Was he going to throw up? Oh man, he hadn’t had stage fright in years, but there were definitely butterflies flappin’ around down there now! How many people were going to see this? How many planets? And not just that - what if he messed up? What if he had to talk and blink code at the same time and he lost track of how many blinks he’d done in the middle of a word? He and Wenona had practiced before after they found out about this whole ordeal, but that was back in their holding room. This was happening for real now.

“Are you ready there, gorgeous?”

Mike jerked his head jerked to his left. He’d been so focused on not freaking out that he hadn’t noticed the new alien show up. The first thing he noted was the skin. At first, it looked rough or coarse, but upon further inspection, Mike realized it was just an illusion of the swirling patterns of color and shadows that seemed to be constantly changing. Its head was vaguely shaped like a lizard’s, though the snout was very short and blunt. It was honestly kind of hard to see what the rest of it looked like. It was wearing a lot of fine sashes and fabrics. Like, a lot of them. It was small though, the colorful crest on top of its head made it probably as tall as Mike’s chest. If that.

Another smaller alien was setting up a mic amidst the sashes, while another hovered about on a double set of gossamer wings, applying a fine translucent powder to the colorful face.

“You look like you're a lost deer head in the light.” She gave a musical laugh. Or at least he thought it was a “her”. He had a hard time telling with some species. Especially for ones he hadn’t encountered before. He’d learned a while back to not guess out loud. It got awkward sometimes. But for this particular alien, he couldn’t help but think she was a she. She sounded like a she. Wow, that was a lot of colors! It was kind of distracting.

“Did I say that right?” Mike forgot to not stare. He blinked a few times to try to make him blinking out code later seem more normal. What was it that she had said? What was she trying to say right?

“Uhm, yeah I think so,” he muttered as he tried to collect his thoughts again. “Wait, what?”

“It’s an Earth phrase, I believe.” She gave him a smile that made her small, slitted eyes nearly close completely. “It seems like an odd thing to say, but I’m sure it must make sense back on Earth?”

Mike smiled back, only remembering at the last minute to not show his teeth in his smile. He didn’t need to freak anyone out or scaring them. “Uh, yeah, deer in a headlight, sure am I guess.” That was what she had said, right? Oh, he needed to calm down! Seriously, where was this stage fright coming from? Deep breaths, deep breaths.

“Oh is that how it goes?” She gave another laugh. The colors across her face changed again. It was… mesmerizing. He nodded absentmindedly.

The smaller aliens finished their tasks and retreated back to the shadows beyond the stage lights, the winged one giving one last brush to the topmost sash before it flitted away.

“Now, before we start, your name is pronounced Mike, correct? I’d hate to get that wrong on live stream.”

He nodded, “Yeah. Mike.” He blinked a few more times for good measure.

“We’re going live in 7… 6… 5….”

Mike took a few more deep breaths and tried to focus on the patterns he needed to get his message out.

“Greetings all from the Arum Bloom, Second Command Cruiser of the Glorious Burnti Empire. For all our loyal returning viewers, you of course already know me, but for those of you who may be new or guests to our stream, my name is Urma Kalabretti Esh.” Music began playing from somewhere. It sounded happy and upbeat, but whatever instruments that were used to play it sounded tinny and hollow. There wasn’t a live audience present, but someone was doing a great job of playing recordings of various species cheering.

After pausing long enough for the music to die down, Urma Kalabretti Esh continued, “Thank you, thank you! Of course, it is always my delight to share with our lovely viewers the news, stories, and enlightenment of the Burnti Empire!”

She turned her head toward what should have been where the middle camera was set up. Mike realized they must have gone for a wide shot. He was on camera now. Okay. First letter. First letter? Oh, shoot! Uh… P!

Short blink. Long blink. Long blink. Short.

“Today we have a special guest with us to share some very exciting news. Prepare yourself, viewers, we’re in for a treat and a tale! May I introduce Human Mike Rockwell all the way from Earth!” The music started up again. It sounded a lot like the first time, but the melody was slightly different.

R. Short blink. Long. Short.

I. Short. Short.

S. Short. Short. Short.

“Now Human Mike, you’ve been with us here on the Arum Bloom for nearly three solar rotation sets, correct?”

O. Long. Long. Long.

“Yes.”

Oh, shoot, what was N? He sometimes got mixed up with N and A.

Long. Short. Pause. E. Short. Pause. R. Short. Long. Short.

“And you and your companion, another human, were found and picked up by our gracious Commander Rozar shortly after the fall of the Confederation Blockade?”

Was he being too obvious with the blinking? Someone was going to figure out what he was doing and stop him, right? Would they stop him on live stream, or would they wait until a break? Was there a break? Did aliens do commercial breaks? What would they do if they caught him? Oh shoot, he should start blinking again. Wait, what was the question she asked?

“Uh… yeah.” He hoped that would be a good answer to whatever the question was.

Short, long, long, short. Short, long, short. Short, short.

“Now, we all know your people have an alliance with the Galactic Confederation,” she paused as a series of “audience” voices moaned, hissed, and otherwise sounded very unhappy at the mention of the GC.

Short, short, short. Long, long, long.

“But tell me, Mike, were you yourself ever aligned with or signed up with a Confederation crew?”

Short. Long, short. Short. Short, long, short.

“No.” Short, long, long, short. “I was a pilot for my parent’s company.”

He focused on blinking out the word on repeat. All the while, Urma Kalabretti Esh continued the interview. For a good little while, she mostly fed Mike questions that he only needed ten words or less to answer. Together, they painted a picture of events that Rozar or whoever had made up- how he and Wenona had been abducted by a Galactic Confederation ship, had been forced to serve on board and to fight until they’d escaped in a pod during the battle at the blockade.

“Now, Mike, is it true that you and Wenona were stranded for a time on the planet Gamnut 4?” The “audience” gasped.

Mike continued to blink.

“Yes, everyone was distracted. We got away and we landed in an escape pod.”

“Gamnut 4,” the alien host gave a worried look, the swirling colors on her scaly face muted slightly. “From what I understand, it’s registered as a category 1 death world. That must have been terrifying for you two all alone!”

Long, short. Short. Short, long, short.

They hadn’t been alone, he wanted to say. But that wasn’t what had been scripted. “Uh, kind of. It wasn’t too bad. Actually, it was a lot like home.”

“Ah yes, how interesting! Your home, Earth, is registered as a category 3 death world, am I correct?”

Short, long, long, short.

“Um, yeah I guess. It’s just home, so I’ve never really thought about it as a death world.” And he hadn’t. At least, not before he left Earth. He’d heard so much about other homeworlds while aboard the Gladius. Most of them sounded like dream vacations spots.

“Truly remarkable! I suppose Gamnut 4 seemed like a breeze after growing up with all Earth could throw at you.” The colorful patterns brightened again. Mike tried to not let himself get too distracted. Thankfully, he felt that at this point, he had fallen into a bit of a rhythm with the code. Hopefully, the message was getting through.

“Now Mike, I know after you were rescued from the planet, Commander Rozar explained the situation with Earth’s alliance with the Galactic Confederation.” “He did.” Short, short, short. Long, long, long.

“Isn’t it terrible?! First, they block the Burnti Empire, getting a monopoly for Earth interactions, and then they turn on their supposed new allies by abducting you and who knows how many else?!”

The “audience” erupted into a cacophony of gasps, snorts, shouts of outrage, and whatever other noises they had on file to play.

Short, long, short. Short, short. Short, short, short. Long, long, long. Long, short. Short. Short, long, short.

“Tell me, Mike, if circumstances had been different if the Galactic Confederation hadn’t forced our people apart, do you think a Burnti/Earth alliance would have been better than what your people are currently suffering through?”

Oh, she was laying it on thick now. He knew she would. That’s how it was planned to go. He said what she wanted to hear. Or rather, what Commander Rozar wanted to be said.

Short, long, long, short. Short, long, short.

He agreed. He commended. He praised the Burnti Empire for saving him. He recommended them to his leaders back on Earth. Inwardly, he grimaced. He cited off all the things that had been scripted for him to say. All the while, the words felt dirty in his mouth.

Stick with the plan. If he didn’t, who knows what they’d do to Jeb.

Short, short. Short, short, short. Long, long, long.

Someone would catch on, right?

Previous Chapter       Next Chapter

[enkelimagnus]

For the Shadowhunters WLW fic bingo, team red. Prompt: Space AU

Clary/Izzy

Read it on AO3

Companion Playlist (Turn off your Shuffle for this one please!)

This work will be multi-chaptered.

TW: Slavery, Authoritarian government

Izzy knocked back the glass full of cheap whiskey, and put it back down on the counter. Around her, the usual patrons were chatting, some were dancing drunkenly with the ladies employed by the owners to keep people who liked women interested.

The first few times she’d come here, she’d felt dirty about it. It had been a weird, seedy secret, and she’d refused to tell anyone, even her brother and partner, where she went to drink, sleep with someone, and forget the work and the situation.

One day, Alec had followed her. He’d ended up falling irrepressibly in love with the owner, a Warlock man called Magnus. Now, they didn’t keep their outings to the Rec private. Alec came there to see Magnus, and Izzy came there to drink.

The Rec was one of the few places where people didn’t stare at the earring that dangled under her left ear. She was grateful for that. She hated the looks when people realized she was Owned.

The earring was composed of a round part, fastened to her ear, and a tear-shaped, four-inch long dangling part. Both were made of a screen that could be made to display any symbol or color. Those who wore the earring were Owned. The earring’s purpose was to display their owner’s crest.

The only way to take it off would be to cut off her ear. And even if she did that, there would still be the chip, in the left side of her throat.

She waved at Magnus for another glass full of whiskey. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, grabbing the bottle and filling the glass again.

“Drinking alone?” Magnus asked. She shot a look at him. There was some bright lavender purple crayon under his eyes, and he’d drawn a line in black paint down his lower lip and down his chin. As usual, the colors of his makeup matched his clothing. He wore fitted black pants, shirt and vest, the latter shining with light purple accents when the light hit the patterns correctly.

Izzy nodded. “Alec’s on a mission. Solo. He’s taken a bunch of extra warrants lately.” She said, looking at Magnus pointedly. “It’s like he’s trying to get a bunch of money together.”

Magnus shrugged. “He didn’t tell me about it. He’s a secretive man, your brother. Even to me.” He hummed, leaning his hip against the side of the bar, and watching her intently. “Where are you at? In your own quest to save up enough money to buy your freedom?”

Izzy licked her lips, looking back right in the man’s golden eyes for a few moments, before she took a sip of her drink. “Not close enough. But I won’t be taking all the warrants I can and exhausting myself.”

Magnus huffed a chuckle and nodded. “Well. In any case. The next rounds are on me.” He reached to cup her chin. “Don’t get yourself in too much of a situation. If you end up in a fight, I am gonna kick your ass.”

Izzy nodded, a smile on her lips. “I’ll probably let you, Magnus.”

The man let go of her chin and walked away, going to another awaiting customer. She heard him purr a ‘what will it be for you, gorgeous’, and smiled. She liked Magnus. He was fun. And he loved Alec maybe as much as she loved him.

Izzy shifted on the high stool she was sitting on, and let herself relax a little. She was still wearing her usual work clothes, boots, tight navy blue uniform, the holster with her phaser strapped to her thigh. She was comfortable in those. She only ever changed for specific missions.

A red-skinned EverArk settled on a stool next to her and she nodded at them. Upon closer inspection, Izzy found they had the white markings that indicated they were a male. Interesting. She smiled at him.

Music played loudly in the background, and Izzy found herself bobbing her head to the rhythm regularly. The EverArk ordered another drink for her. It was not her favorite, but it would do. She thanked him, and started drinking the gift she’d been given. It was very sweet, so sweet she had to swallow a wince.

EverArks always liked sweet drinks. She could never understand why. She still pretended she loved it though. It had been a while since the last time she’d had sex with an EverArk. They were surprisingly strong for their thin and brittle appearance.

She sipped on the sweet drink again, and tried to ignore the sweetness that seemed to completely burn her palate. The EverArk was still watching her. She could see the long red members that grew out of his scalp moving slightly with interest as she shifted.

“So what’s your name?” The EverArk asked.

“Izzy,” she replied. “Yours?”

“Resssin.”

Izzy almost wondered if she’d had sex with him before before she remembered that Resssin was one of the most common names in the EverArk culture. She’d personally met around eleven Ressins in her life. Twelve, if you counted this one.

“What do you do with that big phaser, Izzy?”

“I’m a bounty hunter. I work for the SHA.” She hummed, licking her lips and tasting more of the sweet cocktail.

“The Shadow Hunting Agency. Quite prestigious, for an Owned human girl.”

Izzy had a bit of a sigh. It always came back to the earring. “Whether I’m Owned or not is none of your business. They won’t care if you sample the merchandise.”

The EverArk pursed his lips. “I do care. I don’t fuck Owned ones, no matter how round and pretty they are. Next time, wear your hair up so people don’t think they’ve got themselves a good Free girl when you’re actually far from that.” He hissed, and stood up, walking away from her.

“Fuck off, asshole!” Izzy shouted after him, and went back to the whiskey she still had. “Magnus!” She called. “Another one!”

She hated wearing her hair up. With her hair down, dark and thick, she could conceal the earring as much as possible, and sometimes pass for a free woman.

Magnus walked back towards her and gave her another glass. “Asshole?”

“Got offended I didn’t show off my earring. Probably think he wasted a drink on me.” Izzy shrugged. “I’m tired. Do you still have rooms downstairs?”

Magnus nodded. “Yeah. You can crash here until Alec comes back with the ship, if you want.” He said, loudly because of the music that pulsed around them. “And Izzy? You’re far from a waste. Don’t listen to assholes.”

“Easy to say. You’re not the one with the glowing white earring.”

Magnus sighed and leaned forward. “Look at my left ear.” He said softly. She obeyed.

In the middle of the lobe, there was a very clear puncture mark, and a star-shaped scar around it. The same kind of scarring Izzy saw on freed people. Magnus had been Owned as well.

“Half of the people around here were once Owned, either by some wealthy ass-hat, or by the Clave themselves. Whoever thinks you’re worth less because of that earring doesn’t understand life in this part of the city. The EverArk probably came here wanting a thrill, and realized what he wanted was someone from the other side of the Wall.”

Izzy moved back, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Magnus chuckled. “It’s not something I often advertise.” He explained. “You’re a great person, Izzy. And you’re beautiful. Being Owned does not change that.”

Izzy sighed softly. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

Magnus hummed. “I trust you and Alec will free yourselves. You’re smart, and you’re skilled, and you will get the money, but just do not feel lesser. They do not deserve your self-hatred.” He whispered.

The door of the bar was suddenly shoved open. It banged throughout the room. The laughter and chats died. Magnus tensed. Izzy tensed. Everyone looked at each other with fear in their eyes. Soldiers walked into the room.

Clave soldiers. They were covered in black from head to toe. They shouted “Papers! ID! Everyone.” Izzy stood still. She didn’t have either of those.

Magnus reached for his papers in his pocket. Izzy watched him from the corner of her eyes, standing as still as she possibly could. The soldiers went to every person. No one could run.

“We got an illegal!” One of them shouted and two soldiers walked towards the Seelie man, who begged and screamed and struggled but was arrested, chained, and sedated. They dragged him out of the bar. Whether or not the man was actually without papers wasn’t the point. He didn’t have them on him.

One of the soldiers reached the bar and started going through the people that sat there. One of them walked behind the bar to Magnus. He grabbed the papers out of his hands and looked over them. “Magnus Bane. Freed. Warlock. Man. Is this your establishment?”

“Yes.”

“Are there other levels?”

“Two. Downstairs,” Magnus said.

The soldier called for others and started walking down the stairs. Izzy had not been controlled. That was unusual. She was finally moving and turning around when she was suddenly face to face with a soldier.

Without asking, he grabbed her hair and pulled it out of the way, revealing her earring. “One Owned here, bring the reader.” He called out, and kept a grip on her hair, forcing her neck into a strained position and keeping her there forcefully. The man with the reader walked away from another Owned and towards her. He held the scanner to her throat.

Lightwood, Isabelle, #69AZ87 Property of the Clave Assigned to the SHA Status: Legal

“All good,” the man with the scanner said. The one who held her hair let go of her and took a step back. He didn’t apologize. They never did.

Izzy looked down. She stayed there with her head down and the headache that was forming, until they walked out of the downstairs area with another person. She didn’t watch them take them away. She only breathed again when the door slammed shut, and it was obvious they were gone.

The music still resounded in the complete silence. Izzy looked up towards Magnus. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“What was that about? Controls never happen around here,” Izzy asked, when the chatter started to come back tentatively to the bar.

“They have a fugitive.”

“A Clave fugitive? That’s impossible. Free or Owned?” she frowned.

“Free.”

Izzy decided that she didn’t need to know more. She was too tired anyway. She finished her drink and nodded at him. “I’ll take the room. I need to crash.”

Magnus took out a key with a little keyring with the number 6 written on it and threw it her way. “We’ll see later for payment.”

“You love me too much to make me pay,” Izzy called behind her as she started walking towards the staircase that led downstairs.

“I love money more than you!” Magnus replied.

She flipped him off lovingly before making her way downstairs. The stairs were relatively clean, and so was the corridor. Her room was on the -1 floor, and the door’s black paint was fraying slightly. She turned the knob and got in, closing and locking the door behind her.

The rooms were clean, for this kind of establishment. The bed could fit two to three people, the walls were bare, and the rest of the furniture rather sparse, but it was clean. She sighed softly, and undid her holster.

Izzy could hear someone showering in another room, as well as some screams of pleasure. The small, unframed mirror showed her her own face. She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, her lipstick was gone, and her hair was starting to be a little less voluminous and a little greasier.

She grabbed a hair tie and pushed her hands through her hair to gather them in a ponytail. The earring seemed to glow brighter. She sighed softly and looked away. She should have gotten used to it, but it seemed to never happen. She laid down on the bed, still fully clothed, her phaser underneath the single pillow.

Izzy wondered what had happened to Magnus. How had he gotten Owned? How had he freed himself? Buying yourself out, or being freed by owners were the most common ways of becoming Freed, but Izzy had heard of a few that had managed to cut their earrings and extract their chips.

Izzy knew she would never be freed by her owner. She was owned by the Clave. The Clave didn’t have limited resources. The Clave didn’t have an emotional connection to her that would push them to free her. Her freedom would come only by her own hands. She would have to save money until she could match the unknown number the Clave asked for her.

She loathed them. The Clave had never been an organization she held in her heart, but since her parents’ death in the coup and her brother’s and her sudden change of freedom status, she just loathed them.

Izzy shifted on the bed, and closed her eyes. The woman in the next room did not stop screaming out indistinctive noises. She might not be able to fall asleep, if it continued like this.

Somehow, she did fall asleep.

Izzy was woken up by the noise of scuffling of feet and a door opening and closing violently. She stood up immediately, sensing a presence in the room. There was a cloaked shape on the floor. The shape was a person. Izzy stood up grabbing her phaser and pointing it at the person.

“Hands in the air,” Izzy ordered, voice loud. “Who the hell are you?”

The person seemed to struggle to put their hands up. Their hands were covered by gloves. They hushed her. “Please, don’t make any noise, I’m not supposed to be here.” They urged and Izzy frowned.

Izzy shook her head. “I asked you for your name.” She replied, keeping the phaser where she assumed the person’s head was. Cloaks could hide non-human anatomy, so she wasn’t exactly sure. “I am the one occupying this room, if you’re not supposed to be here, you should go to your own room.” She replied coldly.

“You don’t understand,” the person pleaded, getting back to their feet. “I’m in hiding.” They turned around to look at the door, before turning back to Izzy, something frantic in the way they moved.

The figure was rather small and even with the cloak on, Izzy could tell they were on the skinny side. Were they the fugitive Magnus had talked about? But why would Magnus be helping a Clave fugitive hide? Magnus always tried to stay out of trouble.

Izzy shook her head. “Take off your hood. I want to see your face.”

The person seemed to hesitate before they took off their hood. They had red hair, mid-length, messy and wavy. Izzy settled on their hazel eyes. They seemed human. Izzy wondered if she’d seen them before.

“Please, just… don’t tell anyone I’m here,” the human asked, looking at Izzy pleadingly. Their eyes seemed a bit bloodshot now that Izzy could see them more, and they were quite pale. “Is the door locked?”

Izzy sighed. She kept her phaser firmly aimed at the human before grabbing her key and slowly working her way around her. She reached the door and locked it, and put the key in one of her pockets.

“Here. I locked the door,” she said, pushing on the knob to show that it wasn’t opening. “Now, your turn. Who are you?”

The person sighed. They started moving, and Izzy shook her head. “None of that.” She hissed.

She didn’t trust this person. She didn’t know who they were and if they were the Clave fugitive, they could get Izzy into some very serious trouble. She did not want to be around Clave officials more than she had to. If they found her in the company of the fugitive, she would probably be taken to Alicante HQ and questioned about her involvement. Izzy shuddered.

“If you don’t answer my questions, I’m going to quick you out of this room. I don’t care who you’re hiding from, I’m not getting myself in trouble,” Izzy explained, voice firm.

The person sighed. They kept their hands up in the air, looking around the room quickly as if to make sure they were alone.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not keeping someone under the bed,” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Come on now. You got some explaining to do.”

The person swallowed visibly before nodding. “Clary Fray. Free. Human. Woman,” she explained. “Happy now?”

Clary Fray. That wasn’t a name she knew. Izzy nodded briefly. The woman seemed to relax at her nod. There was something about her Izzy didn’t know how to place. She was familiar. But she didn’t know any Clary Frays. There was no way she knew her.

“Are you armed, Fray?” Izzy asked.

“Two knives and an electrosword,” the woman replied.

Electrosword? That was a rather expensive weapon. That just added to the pile of strange things about her that Izzy was starting to compile. What kind of fugitive, even a Free human woman, could get their hands on an electrosword?

“Unarm yourself,” Izzy ordered. She saw the woman start to talk to contradict her. “Nothing will happen to you here, I have my phaser, the door is locked, and the Clave soldiers already controlled the bar.”

Clary Fray seemed to relax a little and slowly reached down to her belt. She slid the electrosword out and threw it on the bed, and grabbed the two knives out of their sheaths as well. Once that was done, Izzy breathed a little easier.

“So you’re the Clave fugitive they’re searching for,” she said, putting her phaser back in its holster, and putting the holster on again. “I’m curious.”

Fray nodded, moving to go sit on a chair. “That’s me. Sorry they controlled you because of me.”

Izzy shook her head. “It’s fine. We’re all relatively used to it. This part of the city is often raided by Clave soldiers wanting to fill some quotas.” She explained. She reached up and undid her ponytail. Fray had already seen the earring anyway, but she still didn’t feel comfortable having it on full display.

“I had no idea.”

Izzy pursed her lips. “You’re from the other side of the Wall,” she commented.

Yet another reason not to trust her. Clave fugitive, Free woman, with a familiar face, living in New Town, with a goddamn electrosword. Izzy had never even wielded one of those. She’d touched one before, at the beginning of her work with SHA, the weapon of one of her bounties, but it had been snatched from her hand immediately. That’s not a weapon for you.

“Don’t hold it against me?” Fray asked, her voice going a bit high with the question.

Izzy huffed. Of course she was going to hold it against her. New Town people just had no clue. She sat down on the edge of the bed, facing her.

“So how did you end up in my room?”

Fray sighed, licking her lips. “I knew I could get some help from Magnus, so I came here and he grabbed me, ushered my downstairs and basically threw me into the first room he found after telling me he’d come later.”

“Why the Hell would Magnus get involved with someone like you?” Izzy blurted out, looking at her. “He hates Clave people, and he hates New Town Clave officials even more.”

“First, I wasn’t an official,” Fray pointed out, standing up to pace a little. “Second, Magnus Bane is the one person anyone in the know would go to to reach the Rebellion. Don’t think I don’t know that fact just because I’m from New Town.”

Izzy opened her mouth and closed it again. Magnus Bane? Rebellion? She felt like her brain was running on empty suddenly. She felt like she couldn’t understand a word of what the woman was saying.

Magnus Bane stayed as far from the Clave and from any type of political action as possible. He disliked having Clave people in his bar, but he rarely kicked them out. He was just someone who never wanted to get into trouble.

Maybe she’d been wrong all this time. Maybe under the “head down and don’t make waves” exterior, Magnus was actually much more rebellious than she’d thought. Did Alec know about this? Or had Magnus really kept them all in the dark for months?

“You didn’t know?” Fray asked after a moment and Izzy shook her head.

“Of course I knew. Don’t be silly. Magnus is a good friend of mine.” She snapped, and stood up. “In any case, I guess you better wait for him here.”

Izzy grabbed the key out of her pocket, unlocked the door and threw it back over to the woman. “I’ll be upstairs.” She said, and walked out of the room.

She made her way quickly up the stairs and into the main part of the bar, that was starting to become less and less full. Magnus was standing behind the counter, washing some glasses and humming under his breath the song that was playing on the speakers.

Izzy walked briskly towards him, getting behind the counter as well and grabbing his arm. “I need to talk to you.”

Magnus turned, smiling at her. “Something wrong with the room?”

“Yeah, Magnus. It has a Clave fugitive in it, and said fugitive just told me you worked with the fucking Rebellion.” Izzy hissed, not talking too loud. She didn’t want trouble.

Magnus lost his smile immediately. “I’m guessing you want some explanations?” he asked, something somber in his eyes.

“Damn right.”

Magnus waved over at the other bartender to take over the bar and led Izzy gently towards his office. Izzy had never been in that part of the bar.

The room was a bit small and cramped, with a washed up couch in the corner, a small desk with stacks of papers and a knock-off HalO tablet, bookshelves filled to the brim and a coat rack that seemed to want to fall down under the wait of the clothing that hung on it.

Magnus closed the door behind her and leaned against the desk, sitting on the side of it. “Where do you want to start?”

Izzy licked her lips. “I don’t know. Does Alec know? How many other things are you hiding from us?”

“I’m not hiding anything from you, Izzy. I’m just not disclosing information that you do not need to know.” Magnus replied, crossing his arms. “And as for the other question, no. Alec doesn’t know.”

Izzy closed her fist and took a deep breath. “So you’re keeping him in the dark too. Good to know it’s not just your friends.”

Magnus sighed. “You make it seem as if it’s an easy decision. Neither Alec nor I can afford too much issues with the authorities, so I thought maybe keeping you and him away from the incredibly dangerous stuff I do.”

Izzy shook her head. “I can’t believe this. From you, of all people. I trust you, Magnus. At least I did before I learned that there’s a lot I don’t know about you. This, you being Freed…”

Magnus stood up. “I apologize for not telling everyone my rather painful life story, Isabelle.” He replied icily. “As for the Rebellion, I made the choice to keep you in the dark so I could protect you. Alec’s safety, your safety, those are important to me. And of course, the less people that know about what goes on when I’m not at the bar, the better.”

“And how does allowing a Clave fugitive to stay here make anyone safer?” Izzy snapped. “A Clave fugitive from New Town, with a fucking electrosword! That screams high-level Clave official!”

Izzy couldn’t help the wave of betrayal and anger that was washing over her. She knew it was selfish to expect that Magnus would have told her everything important about his life. He was allowed to be secretive, the same way Alec was to most people. He was allowed to want to keep the dirty parts of his past to himself. Being Freed meant having been Owned, and that came with its own load of prejudice, and she got that Magnus, a business owner, would keep that under wraps.

“I like you, Izzy. But we’re not close enough that I share every detail of my life and activities with you,” Magnus said, a bit softer. “I am helping Clary because it’s my role in the community, in the Rebellion. I act as a point of contact, I act as a broker, or an intermediary, between people who wish to escape the Clave’s influence, and the smugglers that work with the Rebellion.”

“But she…” She’s a Clave official. She can’t be trusted. She has a fucking electrosword.

Magnus looked at her. “I don’t care who she is, or was, or why she’s running. I don’t judge, and I don’t ask questions. Clary wants to escape the Clave. I’m helping her do just that. You don’t get a say in this, Izzy. This is my life. And by keeping Alec and you out of it, I’m protecting you.”

Izzy closed her mouth. He was right, and she knew it. She was still mad though. She was mad that she’d been mistaken about the nature of their friendship.

“Did Alec know about you being Freed?” She asked quietly.

“Yes. He did not tell you because it was not his story to tell,” Magnus replied, smiling a little at her. “I’m sorry, Izzy. But I promise I’m not keeping you in the dark because I just feel like it. You’ll learn more with time.”

So that was it then. A promise that she would learn things later, probably as she leveled up in friendship level. Magnus’ words seemed final and he watched her with a look that discouraged her from asking more. He’d already told her that he didn’t ask questions about where the people he helped came from. If she wanted information about Clary Fray, she’d have to get them herself.

Izzy nodded and turned around. She walked towards the door and pushed it open. The bar was almost deserted now. It was the early morning. She sighed a little, feeling the exhaustion again.

The door of the bar opened suddenly and she was startled. For a second, she thought that the Clave soldiers were back. It was only Alec though, tall and tired and walking home with some blood on his shoes. Kill warrants, she guessed. They rarely took those. They paid the best, especially when you took them as a solo mission. Alec was really pushing for money.

Alec had a soft smile at her. The earring looked strange on him. It didn’t suit him. It didn’t suit Izzy either, but it suited Alec even less. He came closer and engulfed her in a hug. She hugged him back. He smelled like the ship and sweat.

“You’re still awake?” Alec asked.

Izzy hesitated. She wanted to tell him about the woman in the room, about Magnus and the Rebellion but… Magnus was right. It was a dangerous secret. A secret she didn’t want Alec to have to bear too, not right now when it was so obvious he was struggling.

“Yes. I don’t sleep well outside of the ship,” she lied, and let go of him. “You look exhausted.”

Alec sighed. “This warrant wasn’t the easiest.”

“You could have asked for my help, you know?” Izzy whispered.

He shook his head. “It was a solo mission. Asking you to come and help would have made us lose money.” He explained, and kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna go get Magnus and go to bed. You should do the same.”

“Is she parked where she usually is?” Izzy would prefer going to sleep in the ship rather than having to share a room with the fugitive woman.

“She is, but she’s dirty as hell. You should sleep here.” Alec shrugged. “Magnus will give you a room.”

Izzy bit her lip. “I already have one.”

“Goodnight then,” Alec smiled, unaware of his sister’s annoyance. He gently tapped her shoulder before walking to the office and opening the door. Izzy heard him say ‘hey, baby’ in the soft voice he used only for Magnus, and heard Magnus’ enthusiastic reply.

As she walked past the office door, she caught a glance of the two of them, Magnus sitting on his desk, legs wrapped around Alec’s waist, as Alec’s hands roamed over his body and they exchanged passionate kisses.

Izzy rolled her eyes at them and walked downstairs, back to the room. She turned the knob but it was locked. Of course it was. She rolled her eyes again and knocked.

“It’s me. The one you woke up?” She called out, trying to be as quiet as possible but still be heard. After a few moments, the door opened. Izzy pushed past the woman and sighed softly. They would have to share a bed.

Clary Fray had taken off her cloak and taken a shower, her red hair was damp and looked darker. She stood next to the door, having locked it again, and watched Izzy curiously.

“‘I’m still wondering what your name is,” she said. “You forgot to introduce yourself earlier.”

“I didn’t forget,” Izzy replied. She hadn’t wanted her to know her name then. She still didn’t want to tell her, but if Fray was going to stick around for longer, she was going to have to introduce herself eventually.

“All I know is that you’re Owned. And you seem human.”

Izzy ground her teeth. Of course, the freedom status was the first thing people learned about her. Fucking earring. She hated that thing every day more and more.

“Too bad you don’t have a scanner on you. You’d have just read my chip,” Izzy mocked. “Unless you took it with you from New Town, along with your electrosword.”

Fray shrugged. “It’s a rather common feature on our HalOs.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow. So New Towners did have a common way to read chips of random Owned. She pursed her lips, going to lay down on the bed. It was still very comfortable. “So what? You just walk up to someone with an earring and check them?”

“Basically. That way you know if they belong where they are, and you know their owners if you want to buy them from them.”

The casualty with which she talked about Owned people like Izzy, about buying them from their owners and passing them from hand to hand made Izzy want to puke.

“I could check yours now if you wanted me to.” Fray’s voice was chillingly innocent.

“Why the FUCK would I want you to read my fucking chip, Fray?” Izzy snapped. “I’m still a fucking person, you just can ask me what you want to know.”

Fray seemed to think about that. “What if you don’t answer my questions?”

“Then you stay out of my fucking personal life.” Izzy replied. Clary Fray acted like she’d never been told that she shouldn't just read chips. It was obvious to Izzy that she’d spent her life surrounded by people who didn't really see the point in respecting Owned people's wishes and privacy.

The other woman became silent. Izzy shot a glance at her. She was attractive, for a New Towner. Usually, they were a little too… pristine for Izzy’s taste, as if they were just coming out of a box. Doll-like, almost inhuman, with perfect hair and perfect clothing.

Izzy remembered she used to be that way. She had perfect hair, straightened by her mother’s Owned, perfect clothing. Her nails were manicured, her makeup on point, her lips shiny. She stood straight, barely ever smiled, and when she did, she didn’t show teeth. She’d hated it, and had wished for more freedom.

Now that she thought about who she used to be, Izzy wanted to laugh at herself. She’d had no idea what it was like not to be free. She’d had no idea what people around her went through, and she hated that she’d been just like the woman that sat on the chair across the room, unaware of the feelings and anger of the Owned that surrounded her.

Izzy sat up on the bed, crossing her legs. “I know you’re used to doing what you want with Owned,” Izzy said, calmer now that she remembered that the other woman wasn’t as far from her as she initially felt. “You need to understand that the world outside of New Town doesn’t work that way.”

“How do you know what I’m used to doing?” Clary Fray replied, something a little more aggressive in her voice.

“Because my birth name is Isabelle Lightwood, and I was born in New Town.”

Izzy felt the energy shift as Clary opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again. She could see the woman trying to search for words, search for something to say.

“You’re going to offer me condoleances, and I will accept them, and then you’re going to stop thinking of me as Owned, you’re going to think of me as a New Towner,” Izzy explained. “I don’t want you to do that. I may have been one, but I’m not anymore, and I have no desire to go back.”

“Why?” The woman asked. There was curiosity in her tone, more than anything.

“Why are you running from the Clave?” Izzy countered. She was using the question both rhetorically and as a way to maybe get some information from the woman. Her circumstances were still mysterious.

Clary Fray swallowed and shifted. She was as thin as Izzy had guessed when they had first met, but there was a definite strength in her body. She was strong. Strong enough to wield an electrosword and two knives, Izzy reminded herself.

“I thought that there would be no questions asked.”

Izzy had a small chuckle. “Oh, that’s Magnus, not me. You’re gonna have to share a bed with me tonight, so unless you want to sleep on the floor without any of your weapons, I need to know if you’re going to murder me in my sleep.”

The woman grew silent. She licked her lips, her eyes going around the room, focusing on anything but Izzy. Izzy sighed. “You killed someone.”

Clary shifted again, obviously uncomfortable. “A few days ago, there was an explosion in the Circle Council Room,” she said. “That may have been me.”

Izzy opened her mouth. This tiny woman with such innocent eyes, who seemed to beg not to be given to the authorities, was responsible for one of the biggest terrorist attacks in the Clave’s recent history.

“That killed half of Valentine Morgenstern’s Council,” Izzy muttered.

Clary shrugged. “They had it coming.” Her following smile was far from innocent.

Holy Shit . That woman was not what Izzy had expected.

“I guess I can’t promise you that I am not a murderer,” she added, and Izzy’s brain was still trying to deal with the thing she’d just learned.

There had been too much new information today. It was just too much for her brain to deal with, this added to the rest of the revelations about the people that lived around her. She couldn’t deal with all of that in such little time.

“I think I need to go to bed,” Izzy muttered.

Clary stood up, and took off her shoes. She was slightly smaller without the heels, but not that much. Izzy watched her grab her cloak and walk towards the side of the bed that Izzy was not occupying. Izzy blinked, watching her.

The woman laid down by her side, and used the cloak as a blanket. “That way you get to sleep in the sheets, and you’re not afraid I’m going to cuddle you to death during the night,” Clary said.

Izzy sighed and kicked off her shoes, took off her holster and slid the phaser under the pillow again. She slid herself in between the sheets, still fully clothed, and shifted until she got into a comfortable position. She laid down, closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.

Clary started to snore soon after. Izzy needed more time to fall asleep. After all, she had a very attractive terrorist in bed with her.

[byzfox13]

The first battle scene in ‘The Solar War’ is just awesome

long post under the cut:

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Strike Frigate Lachrymae, Trans-Plutonian Gulf

The first ship of the onslaught died as it breached the veil of ­reality. Streams of plasma reached out from gun platforms. White fire smashed into the ship’s prow. Lightning and glowing ectoplasm streamed behind its hull. Macro shells detonated amongst the molten wounds already cut into its skin. Turrets and spires sheared from its bulk. Towers broke from its spine. It kept coming even as its bows were torn apart. The burning wreck struck the first of the mines scattered across the dark. Explosions burst around it. The front portion of the ship sheared from the back. Prow and gun decks hinged down. Atmosphere vented from the exposed interior. Debris scattered, burning for an eye-blink before the flames ate the air trapped in the wreckage.

‘Ship kill,’ called a sensor adept from across the bridge of the Lachrymae.

Sigismund watched the intruder’s death as it spread across the pict screens above the command dais. He was armoured, his sword chained to his wrist and resting point down on the deck at his feet. He did not blink or move as the dying ship tumbled across his sight. In the still depths of his mind he heard the words that had brought him to this place and time.

‘You must choose where to stand. By the words of your duty, or by your father’s side at the end.’

Around him the command crew was silent. Eyes fixed on instruments and screens. This was the beginning of the moment they had all known would end the years of waiting. Some, perhaps, had thought or hoped that it would never come. But here it was, marked with fire.

I chose, Keeler, he thought, and in his mind, he heard again the words that Dorn had spoken in judgement of that choice.

‘You will continue in rank and position as you have, and you will never speak to any other of this. The Legion and the Imperium will not know of my judgement. Your duty will be to never let your weakness taint those who have more strength and honour than you.’

‘As you will, father.’

‘I am not your father!’ roared Dorn, his anger suddenly filling the air, his face swallowed by dusk shadows. ‘You are not my son,’ he said quietly. ‘And no matter what your future holds, you never will be.’

‘I chose,’ he whispered to himself, ‘and here I stand at the end.’

The fire from the dead warship spread across the displays.

‘If they come at us like this, the slaughter will barely be worth the sweat,’ growled Fafnir Rann.

‘They will not give us that luxury,’ replied Boreas from further back on the platform. Sigismund did not look around at where the holo-projections of the Assault captain or his lieutenant hovered at his shoulders. Each of them stood on the command deck of one of the Lachrymae’s sister ships.

Rann wore void-hardened Mark III armour, with reinforcing studs bonded to his shins and left shoulder. The scars of battles fought here, at the edge of the system, ran beneath the fresh yellow lacquer. His tall boarding shield hung in his right hand, the twin axes mag-locked to its back echoed in the heraldry painted on the shield’s face. Sigismund imagined he could see the warped smile on Rann’s face as he turned to Boreas and shrugged.

The holo-image of the First Lieutenant of the Templars did not move. Unhelmed, his face was a single twisted scar, and if there was any emotion beyond cold fury behind his eyes, Sigismund could not see it. Boreas’ sword of office stood almost as tall as he did, its guard the cross of the Templars, its blade etched with the names of the dead.

‘All ships, stand by,’ said Sigismund softly, and heard the orders ripple out.

The vibration in the deck rose in pitch. The dull ache that had been building in his skull for the last hours was sharpening. He noticed one of the human deck crew shiver and wipe a hand across a bead of blood forming in her nose.

‘Hold to our oaths and the strength of our purpose,’ he called.

Whispers buzzed at the edge of his thoughts, razor tips scratching over metal. They had needed to sedate every astropath in the fleet two hours before, as a wave of psychic pressure had sent them babbling and screaming. It had become more intense with every passing moment, and it presaged one thing: it was the bow wave of a truly vast armada coming through the warp, bearing down on the Solar System like a storm front. Horus and the traitors were coming.

‘Etheric surge detected!’ shouted a sensor officer.

‘Here it comes,’ said Rann, and brought his fist to his chest. ‘Honour and death.’

‘For the primarch and Terra,’ said Boreas.

‘For our oaths,’ said Sigismund. The images of his two brothers blinked out.

He reached down and pulled his own helm from his belt and locked it in place over his head. ‘May my strength be equal to this moment,’ he said to himself as the helm display lit in his eyes. The data of the battle sphere overlaid his sight.

The Plutonian Gulf glittered with weapon platforms, torpedo shoals and mine drifts. Together they formed a great web, tens of thousands of kilometres deep, stretching from the very edge of night to the orbits of Pluto itself. Ships glinted amongst the defences: fast gun-sloops and monitor ships that were little more than engines and weaponry. They had been built in the orbital forges of Luna, Jupiter and Uranus and dragged to the edge of the sun’s light. Alongside them lay the fleet of the First Sphere: hundreds of warships, all in motion. And beyond the warships, the moons of Pluto waited. Studded with weapons and hollow with tunnels, each was a fortress that could have stood against a fleet.

The sheet of stars erupted with lightning. Rents opened in the ­vacuum. Nauseating colours and dazzling light poured out as ship after ship surged from nothing into being. Tens, and then hundreds. The sensor servitors in the Lachrymae twitched and gabbled as targets multiplied faster than they could vocalise updates.

Mines detonated, explosions leaping from one to another in chains that stretched across the dark. Gun platforms opened up. Macro shells, rockets and plasma struck metal and stone, bored in and exploded. Ships died even as they tasted reality, armour stripped by fire, guts spilled into the dark. In the first ten seconds, over a hundred vessels burned to wreckage. Most had been former warships of the Imperial Army, crewed by humans who had given their oath to Horus and been rewarded with the honour of being the first to draw their blades in this battle. They died for that honour, burning too in the ruin of their ships, hulls shredded around them.

But they kept coming.

Ship after ship, tearing reality like flags waving in front of a gun-line. The first Legiones Astartes warship surfaced from the warp. It was named the Erinyes, and it was a bombardment galleon of the IV Legion: a five-kilometre-long hull wrapped around a trio of nova cannon barrels. She loosed all three shots as the void kissed her skin. Each nova cannon shell was the size of a Battle Titan, its core filled with unstable plasma. They had no target, but they needed none. They ran straight into the heart of the defences and exploded with the force and light of a star’s birth. Gun platforms vanished. Mines lit off in spheres of red flame. Fire poured from the defences as more ships rammed past the debris of their dead kin.

The light of the blaze flooded through the Lachrymae’s screens and viewports. Sigismund’s helm display dimmed.

‘Engage,’ he said, and the Lachrymae leapt forwards. Twenty strike cruisers and fast destroyers followed in tight formation. Lance fire speared out from them, slicing into ships as they cut across the front of the enemy fleet. Plumes of ghost-light and ectoplasm stretched like arms through the dark as more ships punched through from the warp.

A backwash of etheric lightning struck the Imperial Fists cruiser Solar Son. It spun, its hull cracking and crumpling as the laws of reality went into flux. The Lachrymae and its sisters did not pause but plunged on. They had one purpose in this moment: to kill as many of the enemy as possible while they clawed from the warp onto the shore of reality. For the moment, the Imperial Fists’ prey was vulnerable, and the First Sphere fleet were predators.

The Lachrymae’s guns found the skin of the gun-barge Fire Oath before it could light its void shields. Macro shells punched through gun decks and exploded. Munitions cooked off in loading hoists. The Fire Oath’s hull bulged, then burst. Building-sized pieces of hull scythed out, caught the flank of a battle cruiser as it emerged from the warp and tore its command castle from its back. The warp breach it had emerged from pulsed and swallowed the wreckage.

‘Hold,’ called Sigismund, his voice passing through the ships of his command via crackling vox-link. ‘For our oaths, we hold true.’

The Lachrymae sliced on while its mortal crew screamed as ghosts and nightmares flooded their sight. Reality in the battle sphere was now little more than tattered scraps blowing in the night. The Lachrymae rolled, her guns finding enemy after enemy. But for each one that died, another three came from the warp.

Deadfall torpedoes set in the void triggered and speared forwards. Carcasses of ships split and burned. Pluto’s fortress-moons found their range to the first of the invaders and spoke. Newly lit void shields flashed as they collapsed. Volleys answered. The reserve fleets holding close to the moons powered forwards and began to kill and die. The light of battle swelled, blurring with the glow of thousands of warp transitions, until which side was firing and which was burning was lost in a rippling blaze tens of thousands of kilometres across. Hours later, the light

[flourchildwrites]

Edwin 26 and 92 please.

A/N:  Hey, anon!  Thank you for dropping this FANFICTION TROPE MASH UP into my ask box.  I hope you check back in now that I’ve finally got around to responding.  You requested numbers 26 (massage fic) and 92 (kink) with an edwin ship.  I’m sensing a theme here, lol.  However, I’ve got to warn you that I’ve been in a heavy mood lately, and it’s coming out in my writing.  Trigger warnings for chronic pain and sacrilegious undertones.  This fic is also lemon flavored below the cut. :P  Here goes… something.

Special thanks to @bearonthecouch for the read through!

Read on AO3

Truth was a mixed bag.  At least, that was Winry Rockbell’s opinion.  In the years that followed the Promised Day, Ed described them as an amorphous being of indiscernible power, a haughty guardian of the veil between the physical and metaphysical realms or alternatively…  “That uppity bastard who stole my leg, my arm and my brother’s body!”  

Let it never be said that Edward Elric, adoring husband and doting father did not have a way with words.

Nevertheless, on the subject of the past, Winry kept her own counsel.  She neither delved deeply into the regrets of the yesteryear nor dwelled on impracticalities like God, Truth or the meaning of life.  Like the stalwart woman who raised her, Winry’s very existence was a testament to patience and persistence.  And yet, she’d be remiss to deny that, while Truth might have been a capricious guardian of the scales, they were most certainly a shitty surgeon.

Ed’s arm was all the proof she needed.  A mangled scar spilled across his shoulder, three inches deep with puckered flesh in all shades of ruddy red, yellow and purple.  Nuts and wires had jutted out from his restored skin, and if anything, the internal damage proved permanent.  Veins inextricably intertwined with threads of metal, a ghastly union of organic and manmade parts.  Secretly and silently, the young automail engineer sometimes wondered if Truth had bestowed Ed with a blessing or a curse.

Bathed in moonlight, Winry waddled down the staircase of the Elrics’ Resembool home with heavy footfalls.  One hand clutched her swollen stomach, and the other grasped the sturdy wooden banister.  Even in darkness, Winry knew that the walls were pristine, covered in pretty pictures and pastel paints that suited the quiet, country life that Ed and Winry enjoyed when they could get away from the hustle and bustle of Rush Valley.  And though baby Trisha’s nursery was only half finished, Winry could see Ed’s labor of love coming together, just as sure as she knew she was having a girl this time.

Winry smiled to herself as she appreciated the work that human hands had made.

“Ed,” Winry quietly called out from the foot of the staircase, careful not to wake little Yuriy.

“In here.”

The expecting mother made her way toward the sitting room and stumbled upon a familiar sight:  Edward Elric had, yet again, turned her elegant sitting room into an office.  Nevermind the actual study upstairs.  Books were haphazardly strewn across the small space interspersed with parchment bearing nearly illegible scribbles in Ed’s native Amestrian as well as flawed Xingese characters.  Winry had half a mind to chide her husband, but she refrained in light of the ice pack draped over his right shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked knowingly, coming close enough to admire the narrow spectacles Ed now wore when reading, the ones he obstinately swore he didn’t need.

“Nothing to worry about, Win,” the blond shot back, injecting confidence into his voice.  “It’s just a little sore.  The weather is changing, and Yuriy is getting bigger.  Besides, I need to get this work done for Al.  No time like the present.”

“You mean 3 a.m.” Winry shot back wryly as she placed her hands on her hips, “when our 2-year-old is finally sleeping, and we’ve got a full day of toddler tantrums ahead of us?  Why didn’t you just tell me it was hurting again?  Not for nothing, but I am one of the best automail mechanics around.  I think I know my way around human anatomy enough to ease a few tense muscles.”

Ed chuckled and rose from the couch, a merry glint in his light amber eyes.  “Well, not for nothing, but you are 25 weeks pregnant if I’m not mistaken.”  He wasn’t.  “What kind of husband would I be if I let you take care of me without taking care of you first?”

Ed moved quickly across the small living space and wrapped his arms around Winry.  His fingers moved restlessly, seeking purchase in the folds of her lightweight nightgown.  With eyes wide shut, she hummed as Ed reached around to massage the tight muscles of her lower back.  Winry buried her face in the soft cotton of his shirt, relishing the faint scent of sweat and freshly cut grass.  She loved Ed.  She loved being tenderly caressed by the warm hands that had never hesitated to pick her up when she was down.  To protect her just as she patched him back together time and time again.

Winry reluctantly summoned her wits in spite of Ed’s efforts and a raging case of momnesia.

“Not so fast, Edward,” Winry interjected, gently stepping back and placing a firm hand on her husband’s chest.  “Let’s have a look at that shoulder.  Then, you can take me upstairs and have your way with your bloated, pregnant wife.”

The glint in Ed’s eyes was inexplicably obscene.  “That a promise?”  

Winry rolled her eyes despite the smirk on her lips.  

“Take a seat, Fullmetal,” she said, gesturing toward the couch with an authoritative edge to her voice.  Though he practiced restraint, Ed’s features darkened hungrily as he took a seat on the floor near Winry’s usual perch on the couch, and if she had reminded him of a certain former commanding officer at that moment, he didn’t show it.

…

The bible according to Pinako Rockbell was pretty damn clear when it concerned the intersection of automail and pain.  It was merely the body’s way of communicating that something wasn’t working properly.  And though Winry still struggled to comprehend Edward’s refusal to dignify the pain he occasionally felt, she was all too familiar with his anatomy, right down to the battle scars hidden beneath the hem of his well-pressed shirts.

The young mother’s hands kneaded and pressed at her husband’s scarred skin, searching for knots and avoiding the places where she knew metal was permanently embedded within his flesh.  As her strokes turned long and languid, Winry felt Ed relax under her deft hands.  His arm and shoulder began to pulse as she stimulated blood flow alongside delicious friction and finally, she finished with a series of firm taps.

“Oh God, Winry,” Ed gasped.  “Do you have to tap it like that?  You’re killing the mood.”

“What mood?” she teased.  “Between the stretch marks and my swollen ankles, I don’t see how I can be the least bit appealing right now.  Then again, you are stuck with me.  I guess I can’t blame you for making the best of it.”

Winry’s words carried a self-deprecating edge, and she laughed with a good-natured timbre that belied the harsh truths sugarcoated by her humor.  The second time mother knew she’d grown bigger faster this time around.  Her ankles were puffy, and the stretch marks on her tummy had reasserted themselves in angry streaks of red.  Between her business and Yuriy, Winry found it difficult to think of herself as a sexual being, and honestly, Ed was more a partner in the trenches of childrearing than a lover now.

“Making the best of it?  Of our life together?” Ed scoffed.  “What makes you think that you aren’t exactly the person I want to be with?  Especially when you’re pregnant.”

“Especially when I’m pregnant?” Winry shot back.  “My stomach’s big.  My boobs are ridiculous.  In another month or so, I’ll be unable to see my feet.  Enlighten me, oh great alchemist, what’s there to like about all that?”

Ed paused in a rare show of speechlessness as he shifted at Winry’s feet and allowed his eyes to trace the outline of her figure.  It had been years since their first sleepless night together, but the way he looked at her was wondrous, reminiscent of their first fumbling time as well as the many happy endings they’d enjoyed after that.  Winry felt reborn when she considered herself from Ed’s perfective and saw all that she considered a nuisance as ancient symbols of power, unequaled by modern medicine or other mystic arts.

He took her hands in his and turned them, running his thumbs across her palms.  “I see hands that give life,” he said, kissing her callouses.  “And strong arms that cradle it lovingly.”

Ed turned his attention to her feet and massaged her ankles tenderly.  “I see legs that stood up for me when I couldn’t stand on my own.”  Winry shivered as she felt her husband place light kisses up her ankles, calves and thighs.  He gently pushed her nightgown up to reveal her round stomach, and as Winry’s pulse quickened, the baby inside her belly stirred.  Ed chuckled and pressed his hands against her, grinning as he felt his child’s movement.

“I love you like this,” he stated, almost breathless.  “I love seeing our child growing inside you, and you’ve got this raw, powerful beauty that makes me crazy.  You’re glowing, Winry.”

She started to tell him that it was just her acid reflux, but with those words, Ed kissed the top of her thigh near the plain white fabric of her panties.  Slowly, his tongue pressed against her, and Winry couldn’t hide the soft sigh which followed.  She leaned back, enjoying Ed’s attention as his mouth began sucking and pulling at her skin.  As was only fair, he repeated the same series on the inside of her other thigh, moving ever closer to her warm center.

As her breathing grew fevered Ed delved deeper, running his lips over the outside of her underwear in a way that made Winry sigh.  He sucked the fabric, and his fingers toyed with the low waistband, bowed by her growing baby bump.  One hand settled on the width of her hips, and again Ed caressed her belly as his tongue lapped at her through a pesky layer of cotton.

Winry moaned and pleaded for her pleasure until Ed finally kissed her clit.

“Oh, God!” Winry exclaimed, feeling both breathless and beautiful in the eyes of the person who mattered most.

He smirked in response, all humor and bravado intact.  “I prefer Ed.”

Winry laughed in a throaty register as she gave in to her husband’s skillful ministrations.  Pushing her panties to one side, his tongue set out to do its best, returning the favor for all Winry’s earlier efforts.  Ed was insufferable at times, Winry knew, and yet, as he cracked a blasphemous joke and ate her like it was his last supper, she couldn’t help but revel in her good fortune.  If no higher power had brought them together during their difficult childhoods or made them as mirror images of one another, being with him was a miracle all the same.

Like what you read?  Send me a prompt!

[sonicrainicorn]

Made of Love, Chapter 7

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Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Virgil eavesdrops and gets a glimpse of what it's like to be Logan and Patton for the night. He decides he doesn't like what he hears.

TW: Blood mention

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

Arriving unannounced at someone’s house at two in the morning wasn’t on Virgil’s must do list. It made him feel bad. Not every person had a jacked up sleep schedule as he did. So he felt pretty guilty (and a little confused) when Thomas opened the door.

Thomas yawned and rubbed his eye. “What the heck?” He wore an oversized shirt with paint stains and sweats that were in a similar condition. So not quite bed ready. “What are you two doing here?”

After a quick explanation, Thomas let them inside. The house, save for a few lights on in the living room, was pitch black. It then occurred to Virgil that they had never been over like this before. The first time they ever came over -- many weeks ago -- the house was awake. It didn’t feel so quiet or heavy from the darkness. They were seeing it in a new light. Or lack thereof.

Regardless, the two sat down at their normal seats. That’s when they noticed why the few lights were on in the first place. Thomas had been painting. The floor was covered to protect it from any stray paint that may have fallen. Bottles of acrylic paint were in various locations on the floor with the black one still being open. A plastic palette sat next to the canvas with a mess of dark colors since the painting, Virgil noticed with a start, wasn’t full of sunshine and happiness.

It depicted a cloaked figure -- Death, perhaps -- kneeling in an unfinished patch of grass. The grass it kneeled upon was brown rather than green and it had a hand -- a human hand, not a skeletal one -- extended toward… something. That’s where it stopped. Thomas hadn’t finished.

That’s when something else occurred to Virgil. They had never seen any of Thomas’s paintings before. They knew he liked to, but they never saw any work. For this to be the first one was a little surprising, to say the least. Thomas didn’t seem to radiate anything other than happiness. But then again, a person is only so much as they show themselves to be.

“Patton and Logan are sleeping,” Thomas whispered as he cleaned up. He didn’t seem to notice how his visitors were entranced by his work. “I’ll get them in a minute.” He grabbed the canvas off the floor and carried it away.

Virgil and Roman sat in silence as Thomas walked around. After things were somewhat neat, he stepped down the hall toward Picani’s room. It took a moment or two before he came back out, calling behind him, “Don’t forget your glasses, Patton.” Which prompted loud, annoyed groaning.

Thomas plopped himself on the armchair at the same time Patton and Logan shuffled down the hall. They looked annoyed at having to wake up. Plus the bed head made them look downright miserable.

“What’s happening?” Logan asked as he rubbed his face.

So Virgil and Roman explained it. Everything. They tried their best to describe each scenario in detail. Who knew what could be useful information. Figments were a whole new world to them.

“This isn't good,” Logan muttered under his breath.

“Are you two okay?” Patton appeared much more awake now. “You didn't get hurt did you?”

Virgil rubbed his neck. Other than being choked out, he was fine. No physical damage.

“Actually.” Roman held out his arm. “I got scraped while trying to escape. It's not a big deal, though.”

Perhaps it wasn't a big deal for Roman, but Virgil had alarms going off at the sight of it. It wasn't just some scrape, but a cut along the length of his forearm. Superficial, of course, but deep enough to draw blood. He had no idea how he didn't notice it before.

“Big deal or not, an injury is an injury.” Patton held out his hands. “Let me see.”

Roman hesitated before moving to the edge of the couch and handing over his arm. Patton rolled up the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. He placed his hands over the cut and a soft blue glow came from beneath them. When he removed them, the cut was gone.

Thomas came back in after that. Virgil didn't even notice when he slipped away. “Here.” He handed Virgil a spool of thread and a needle. “For your jacket. We only had white.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Virgil took it with confusion. Thomas didn't need to do this for him. He mentioned once before that his mom tried to teach him how to sew, but he didn't think the kid remembered.

Roman ran a hand over his arm, eyes wide and searching. “How… how did you do that?”

“What was that, kiddo?” Patton sat down with a napkin, wiping the thin line of Roman's blood off his hands.

“How did you fix it?” He moved his eyes up to Patton. “There's nothing there at all.”

Patton smiled. “I'm a healer, remember? You’ve seen me do it before.”

“I mean, yeah, but…” It didn't seem as if he knew how to word it.

“I can only heal what can naturally be healed.” Somehow, Patton seemed to understand. “So I can't cure any terminal illness or anything. In fact, I can only really cure a cold. I fix physical injuries from cuts and bruises to broken bones.” He thought for a moment. “It's more like I speed up the healing process if that makes sense.”

Roman paused. “Can,” Virgil had never seen him so unsure before, “I mean, is it possible to heal, like, a scar?”

“Of course!” His smile slipped for a moment as he glanced at Logan. “Kind of. If it's not caused by magic, at least.”

“Logan?” Thomas interrupted the conversation. “You alright?” After not getting a response he asked again, “Logan?”

Logan snapped out of whatever trance he was in. “What?” He lowered his hands from his mouth. “I'm afraid I wasn't quite paying attention.”

Thomas’s brows pulled together in worry. “You okay?”

“Yes.” His hand moved to where his glasses should have been, but they were not there. Instead, he opted for straightening out his undershirt. “I was simply thinking over our predicament. And I find it quite troubling, to say the least.” His eyes passed over everyone. “I fear we may have made a grave mistake in bringing Virgil and Roman along with us on our rescue mission. Altair has seen both of your faces. He must be strong enough now to detect when someone doesn’t have magic -- and you simply being with us already put you on a kill-on-sight list.”

Virgil didn’t like how that sounded.

“And the Figments know how you act,” Patton said with slow realization. “The ones you saw both catered to how you responded to them in the past. Roman’s tried to trick him to take him by surprise, but Virgil’s immediately tried to attack him.”

“Hey -- yeah.” Thomas sat up in surprise. “They knew Roman would attack the moment he saw what they were, but Virgil hasn’t done anything to prove he would fight first.” He paused, an awareness crossing his face. “You can’t hide.”

Virgil pricked his finger with the needle. Oh boy.

Thomas’s words seemed to click with Logan. “No one saw you come here, did they?”

Virgil and Roman glanced at each other. “No,” Roman answered. “No one else was around.”

A million things could have been passing in his mind at once and no one would have known. He kept a stern, albeit stoic, expression. “It might be best for you two to stay the night here. Altair hasn’t figured out where we are yet so this is the safest place you can be.”

Virgil’s mind couldn’t help but latch onto the “yet” part in Logan’s sentence. Though it made perfect sense. Logan was a realist. It wouldn’t have been very logical to assume their location would never be found -- not with five faces to follow. Still, that corner of Virgil’s mind wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Another sleepover?” Thomas’s eyes brightened.

“No.” Logan quickly shot it down. “I’d like to sleep on a bed tonight, thank you. Roman and Virgil can choose rooms to sleep in as well. We’ll discuss things further at a more reasonable hour.”

By the time four o’clock rolled around, Virgil decided sleep wouldn’t come. He groaned in annoyance and sat up. The room he had chosen stifled him with unfamiliar shadows. He needed to get outside. He sighed and slipped off the bed, grabbing his hoodie on the way out. Even in the dark, the white thread stood out against the black fabric. Mediocre stitch work, but it got the job done.

Virgil peeked his head into the hall to see if someone happened to be there. Empty. He made sure to keep his footsteps light as he traced the wood back toward the living room. The voices in that direction made him halt in his tracks. He listened for a moment and discovered the voices to be Patton and Logan. Their whispering was far too hushed to be deciphered clearly. Then they stopped. A bright light seeped into the hallway.

With curiosity getting the best of him, Virgil peeked his head out enough to see a familiar attempt at fusion. This one, however, lasted a bit longer, although the outcome was the same. The two fell to the floor, sighs of annoyance and frustration accompanying their thump. Virgil didn’t fight back the frown that tugged at his lips. Why were they doing this? From what he knew, they did a few attempts yesterday with all of them ending in failure.

“We need to take a break,” Patton muttered. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“What else are we supposed to do?” Virgil could see Logan throw an arm over his eyes. “We need Picani.”

“We can’t get him -- at least not right now.”

Logan stayed quiet for a moment. “There’s no way we can keep them all safe without Picani’s spells. It isn’t as if we can ask Roman and Virgil to take up fighting. This isn’t their war. They shouldn’t be involved in the first place -- we brought them there.”

“Okay, so we messed up. That’s fine. Just another failure to add to the list.” Virgil found himself flinching at the bitterness in that sentence. “But we are not going to have this turn out like everything else, alright? We’re going to find a way.”

“How?”

This time Patton fell silent. “I don’t know.” He sat himself up. “All we have is us. Maybe if we had… them with us then things might be different, but we don’t have that luxury. We’re the only ones left, Logan.” He lowered his head. “We can’t just fail.”

Logan moved his arm to look at Patton. “I never said we would.”

“But you’re right. There’s no way we can protect three people with just two of us.” Patton brought his knees to his chest. He thought for a moment. “One more time.”

The two got to their feet. They took each other's hands and pressed their foreheads together. With a deep breath from both of them, they formed a bright light. Virgil couldn't look directly at it. But what caught his attention this time, when the light went away, was the lack of any noises of disgruntlement. He brought his eyes back up to see Picani.

His eyes were shut tightly and it looked as if he was holding his breath. And he might have. Forming a fusion didn't seem like an easy task. Though after a few seconds, his form began to flicker. Virgil could almost see the two lights struggling to stay together, but it didn't work. Picani switched into a ball of light and the two tumbled out.

They both sighed.

“I wouldn’t call that a complete failure,” Logan said. “That's the closest we've gotten yet. It's still annoying, but at least we know we can do it.”

“Right.” Patton sat up. “We'll keep trying. We might not be able to shield them, but at least we’ll still be able to defend them.”

“Well, you will, at least. I'll just be uselessly standing off to the side since I've lost the one thing that would be of any help.” He threw his arm over his eyes again. “Just like old times.”

“Whoa, hey.” Patton shuffled over to him. “That's just the lack of sleep talking. We've had -- what? -- four hours sleep total these past two nights? If you got some more then I guarantee you'll feel a lot better.”

Logan paused. “I suppose so.”

Virgil withdrew his head from the conversation. He didn't want to intrude on any late night confessions more than he already had. He tiptoed back to bed with new information swirling around. He couldn't believe how hard Patton and Logan had been trying.

When he saw them in the morning yesterday, they were running on less sleep than him. He just assumed sleeping at hours they weren't used to messed them up. Not only that, but they had been trying to form Picani the whole time.

They needed a break.

They were too focused on trying to help everyone else. Virgil would be willing to do most things if it meant Logan and Patton slowed down for a second. He might have to talk it over with Roman. Maybe Thomas as well. All he knew is that something had to be done before Logan and Patton overworked themselves. Sure he wasn’t the best at that himself, but he’d be damned if someone else was going to do it.

He checked back in two hours later and found them fast asleep on the floor.

~~~

Once a more reasonable hour came about, Virgil gathered Roman and Thomas into his room to discuss what he had witnessed -- well, as much as they needed to know, anyway. Patton and Logan were still sleeping.

“I didn’t even think about it,” Thomas placed a finger to his lips, something reminiscent of Logan, “Picani is capable of creating protection wards. It’s long and strenuous and, honestly, a lot harder than it should be -- but he’s still able to do it.” He ran his hands through his hair. “It’s why they’d try so hard. The easiest way out of this is through Picani.”

Roman crossed his legs. “So why can’t Logan or Patton just do it?”

An expression flickered across Thomas’s face for a second. Something Virgil caught on as seeing a reflection in the mirror. It disappeared with a smile. “It’s not their type of magic.” He got his hands ready for a demonstration. “Logan is the fighter and he has magic that represents that. Patton is a defender and you’ve seen what he can do already. Together, as Picani, they become a protector. He still has elements of both their magic types, but his main magic becomes something else. He can do things that Patton and Logan can’t do on their own.”

“Like how Pearl and Amethyst can’t summon Opal’s weapon alone?”

“Yeah, that works.” Thomas grinned at him.

Virgil crossed his arms. “Even if they could form Picani, would he even be able to do the magic he’d need to? Logan got his mojo jacked, remember?”

Thomas thought for a moment. “I don’t know, actually.” He looked at Virgil with uncertainty. “Something like this has never happened before. It’s kind of not supposed to happen. Ever. Taking away magic is like pulling out your lungs and asking you to breathe.”

So then how can Logan still breathe?

Virgil decided to hold his tongue on that. He didn’t need any kids crying to start off his day. “So then what can we do?” Best to move on to the important subject. “It’s obvious that they can’t do this by themselves even if they want to. They’re going to need help.”

Thomas’s eyes flicked from the chair Roman sat on to the wall Virgil leaned against. There was a subtle switch -- so subtle that Virgil almost missed it. He became older, somehow. As if he had lived several lifetimes and this scenario had come up in each one. It was a recognition one would get after seeing a familiar face for the first time in years. “That’s what we’re going to give them.”

“Uh, how, exactly?” Roman asked.

“We prove it to them.” Thomas stood up from the bed. “Explain how and why they can’t do this alone and then say we’re here to help.” He started walking toward the door.

“What makes you so sure that’ll work?” Virgil challenged.

Thomas stopped. He turned to give him a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because they’ll see the same thing I did.” Then he left without another word.

Virgil and Roman shared a glance before following suit.

When they walked into the living room Thomas was already leaning over the armchair to talk to Logan and Patton. It looked like he had just woken them up. He glanced over his shoulder then ducked his head to whisper something to them.

Patton placed a hand over his eyes while the other searched the ground. “Give me a few seconds.” Virgil wasn’t sure who that was meant for.

Logan used the back of the sofa to help himself up. He looked a bit frazzled. “Uh, good morning.” He brushed his bangs out of his face. “We were told you had something to discuss with us.”

They all took their seats and Thomas began the discussion. Well, technically, a discussion would mean that both parties get a say on a topic, which wasn’t going to happen. It was more of an intervention. A callout, even. Thomas laid down all the points and spoke as if he knew exactly what interjections Patton or Logan would make.

Even though he had some solid reasoning, the two still seemed uncertain. They didn’t want to get anyone involved if they didn’t have to.

“Listen,” Virgil interjected. “Whether or not you like it, you’re going to need us. There’s no possible way you can keep your eyes on all of us at all times. Let us make it easier and help you -- we’re the ones offering.”

Logan and Patton stared at him in response. They had a similar expression as Thomas did earlier -- seeing someone for the first time in years. Someone they never expected to see, it felt like. Logan’s eyes scanned every inch of Virgil’s face as if to search for something he had forgotten. Virgil could almost see the thoughts racing in his head. Patton, on the other hand, became oddly stoic. For the first time since his appearance, he grew hard to read. Whoever they saw, they must have been important.

Then Patton laughed.

He covered his mouth and let out a giggle. “I guess history repeats itself, after all.”

Virgil blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Those that don’t learn from it are doomed to repeat it,” Logan added, somewhat lost in thought. “I suppose that means we only have one option.”

“Learn from our mistakes?” Patton gave him a sly smile.

A tiny grin cracked through Logan’s features. “Learn from our mistakes.”

What those mistakes were, they wouldn’t know for sure. But they accomplished what they set out to do and that was a victory in Virgil’s book. Hopefully, more victories were in store.

(Next)

[theolddarkmachine]

Nalu + Cuddles and Kisses xx (just fluff really lol have fun and we appreciate you so much!!) ( For the thank you prompts ❤️ )

The Stars At Night

“Are ya mad, Luce?” He asked suddenly, coal dark eyes flashing back to her quickly, sparking as they reflected the starlight. The movement caused the shadows to shift, leaving his face open and vulnerable as he looked up through his lashes. His look was filled with nothing but apology, which sent a muted shock twisting low in her gut.

“No, Natsu,” she said slowly when just enough air returned to her lungs for her to push the words from behind her teeth. “I’m not mad.”

It wasn’t a lie. Lucy couldn’t ever find it within herself to be truly mad, no matter how close to death they ever seemed to get. Worried, certainly. Scared? Of course.

But angry? Never. Because one of her greatest secrets that she held close to her chest was that up until she’d met Natsu and Happy and joined their team, she had truly felt alive.

How could she ever be angry about that?

AO3

A/N: are big and bright 👏👏👏👏 I hope you like this, dearest anon, and that you don’t mind me interjecting some stargazing since apparently that’s a thing I’m really into right now XDDDDD Thank you for the prompt! I hope I did it-- and Nalu-- justice!

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

Lucy always loved the night sky. Even before becoming a celestial mage, or gathering any spirit keys, they had always provided her a kind of solace that nothing else had. Sparkling up there, light amongst a never ending blackness, she let herself believe that those stars would always be there for her.

It had become somewhat of a habit for her. To step outside each night and look up at the sky to trace the lines that connected the stars into their constellations. There, she could lose herself and her thoughts to the swirling, twinkling pricks of light that had been there far before she’d come around, and would be there long after she was gone.

Somehow, the thought of her own humanity and the greatness of the universe was comforting. It was something she could always turn to when she needed it.

And right now, she needed it.

The job was supposed to be easy, but they always were when Natsu and Happy were involved. After years of being a part of their team, she probably should have known that It’ll be easy, Luce, really meant that at some point someone was going to be running for their lives.

That someone, being her.

Sighing deeply, she pulled her knees up towards her chest and wrapped her arms across her shins as she continued to stare out over the cliff ledge just a short walk from their camp. Natsu and Happy had both disappeared some time ago, throwing hurried explanations over their shoulders as they’d run excitedly into the forest.

Something about a competition and fish, though whether the fish had anything to do with the competition, she wasn’t quite sure.

It was so like them to treat the events of the day as if they didn’t happen. As if Natsu hadn’t once again thrown himself between her and an attack that would inevitably run another scar along his skin.

How many had he earned now protecting her?

Heaving another low breath, she curled in tighter around herself as she rested her chin atop her knees as her eyes traced the stars with reckless abandon. Each glowing speck burnt against her vision as she tracked them against the endless sky.

It wasn’t until she heard the sharp snap of a twig behind her that she realized the constellation she’d been connecting came together in the shape of a dragon.

“Lucy?” A voice she’d grown all to accustomed with called from behind her. Swallowing down the jolt of familiarity that rocked across her sternum, she tilted her head just enough to the side for Natsu to see her acknowledgement. His steps were careful as he made his way over, nothing more than a soft brush of his sandals against the dewy grass.

Heat rolled gently off his skin in peaceful waves as he dropped down beside her. That was another thing she had grown painfully accustomed to. The warmth that always spread through her limbs whenever the dragon slayer was around. It also eased her troubles, pushing her loud thoughts beneath a quiet that was soft and warm until all she could focus on was the intensity of the dragon trapped within his chest.

Which, in turn, almost always left her with thoughts that screamed louder than before.

“Hey Natsu,” she breathed, his name ghosting over her skin with the same caress that wrapped it in undeniable softness. Turning her head to rest her cheek against her knees, she let her gaze find his sitting form where he sat with easy openness looking up at the sky.

“Who won?” She asked after a moment of contemplation and watching the way his mouth turned quirked slightly at its edge as he saw something painted within the stars.

The question earned a bright laugh  as he looked over towards her.

“Happy did, but I gave him a head start,” he said conspiratorially, throwing a glance over his shoulder back towards the trees as if the exceed could hear him. The light of the moon above cast a shadow across the sharp line of his nose and over his cheekbones, chasing away his boyish looks and leaving him looking every bit the strong fighter that he was.

For just a moment, she lost herself to the darkness that accented his jaw.

“Are ya mad, Luce?” He asked suddenly, coal dark eyes flashing back to her quickly, sparking as they reflected the starlight. The movement caused the shadows to shift, leaving his face open and vulnerable as he looked up through his lashes. His look was filled with nothing but apology, which sent a muted shock twisting low in her gut.

“No, Natsu,” she said slowly when just enough air returned to her lungs for her to push the words from behind her teeth. “I’m not mad.”

It wasn’t a lie. Lucy couldn’t ever find it within herself to be truly mad, no matter how close to death they ever seemed to get. Worried, certainly. Scared? Of course.

But angry? Never. Because one of her greatest secrets that she held close to her chest was that up until she’d met Natsu and Happy and joined their team, she had truly felt alive.

How could she ever be angry about that?

“But you’re stargazing,” he said slowly as if he was working through the same thought. Eyebrow quirking, Natsu continued as he answered the question echoed in her look.

“You usually stargaze when you have a lot on your mind,” he paused as he looked away before he continued with a shrug. “And you usually have a lot on your mind when you’re mad.”

The statement was so blunt and uncharacteristically timid as if he was revealing a secret about himself buried beneath each and every word. Deep within her chest, Lucy felt something begin to glow and expand with feathered edges that tickled the inside of her skin with its warmth.

It wasn’t until moments later that she realized the edges of her mouth had turned up into a soft smile.

“Not always,” she said matter-of-factly, raising her arm out towards the sky stretched out before them as she kept her gaze on the dragon slayer. He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t right. She did have a lot on her mind, but from the way his brow furrowed with a foreign emotion she later placed as worry, he didn’t need to know that.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to take it all in.”

Watching him carefully as his attentions turned to where she pointed, Lucy saw the minute change in his expression as it relaxed. It was such a small change that she wasn’t sure many people would have caught. Just the simple easing of the corner of his eyes, and the gentle loosening of his squared jaw.

His eyes wandered across the inky darkness that melted into deep blues and purples, and punctuated by bright pricks of light as a quiet fell across their shoulders like a blanket. It was comfortable, and it felt safe.

It felt like it always had with Natsu.

“Do you want to join me?” She asked suddenly, the invitation surprising the both of them as his head snapped back in her direction. Electric currents sparkled and cracked beneath them as he contemplated the request before a wide, pointed smile split his features in two.

“Yeah,” Natsu’s voice was low as if he was scared it’d break the fragile stretch of time that had frozen around them. “I think I’d like that, Luce.”

Ignoring the heat that flared across her cheeks, she nodded as she shifted over until their arms brushed together in a single flash of lightning that stole her breath.

“You okay?” He asked after her pause stretched too long, the original worry coloring his voice a soft shade as he looked down at her.

“I’m fine,” she finally managed as she settled in next to him. If he noticed the way the space between them was fizzling, he didn’t let on as he turned back to face the view. With a steadying breath, Lucy raised her hand once more, her index finger pointed to trace the stars.

“This one,” she started, dragging imagined lines between points, the soft ebb of happiness brushing against her chest as she spoke. “Is Cancer.”

“No way, that’s what the crazy crab looks like up there?” Natsu breathed as he leant forward, his curiosity barely contained as he followed her finger connecting the dots. It pulled a breathy laugh from within her that rocked her shoulders.

“Yep! And this one—” she moved her hand to begun tracing another cluster— “is Leo.”

That one earned a boastful laugh as he brought up his own finger to follow the lines.

“I can’t wait to tell Loke I know which one he is.” Natsu paused with his finger hovering over the bottom of the constellation. Right over Regulus. Inside her chest, Lucy’s heart stuttered as she watched the way he gave the brighter point additional notice.

Regulus had always been one of her favorite stars.

Shifting again, her arm brushed against Natsu’s once more as she began to trace another. She hardly even needed to look at this one. This one had always been her favorite.

“And Aquarius,” she said, taking extra care to get the sharp lines right. At the corner of her eye, she saw the serious way his eyebrows had set as he took it in with a nod before the look melted away into something more devious.

Without preamble, he closed his fingers around her wrist. The sudden contact sent her pulse ricocheting against the halo of his grasp as he began to connect several different stars.

“Natsu?” Lucy said, turning his name into a question as she tried to make sense of the lines he was creating.

“I’m going to make my own constellation,” he said simply with a shrug that curved the line he’d been making with her point.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” she laughed as she tried to swallow down her heart that threatened to spill out over her tongue as his fingers tightened slightly against her wrist as he dragged it in a sharp turn.

“Who says?” Natsu asked defiantly before he stopped abruptly. Lucy wished she could have focused enough to mentally map the image he’d constructed, but all she could fixate on was the way her bloodstream had turned into a wildfire that culminated under his fingers.

“There, that one will be Happy,” he nodded before he began to trace again. This time, he pulled her arm across the sky to start at a point opposite where he’d just been. The move pulled her closer to him as she found herself suddenly flush with his chest. Each line and connected dot raced across her skin like a love letter to the sky as he painted an image across it that only he knew.

It took several more curves and sharp lines before he finally stopped.

“And here,” he kept his eyes forward as he spoke before he lowered their hands to the crest of his crossed leg and set her upturned wrist onto the ball of his knee. “Will be you.”

Silence fell over her once more as the fire storm pumping through her limbs consumed her whole at his self assured words. Nestled within his words in obvious disguise were things he’d always left unsaid. The things that had grounded her within their friendship, their team, and so much more.

There was a reason she had always felt so alive with Natsu, and he’d laid it there before her, wrapped within hushed toned and connected stars.

Are ya mad, Luce, he’d asked.

No. Far from it. She wasn’t burning within the unending thoughts of anger, but something else.

Something that left her heart exposed as it beat a hummingbird rhythm along the back of her ribs.

Something that felt a lot like love.

The gentle brush of Natsu’s thumb against the soft skin of her wrist pulled her back down from her thoughts as he kept his eyes turned toward the skies. It wasn’t until her lungs began to protest that she realized she’d stopped breathing altogether.

Turning her attention out over the landscape before them and the stars above, she timed her breaths with the strokes of his thumb until her pulse evened out and the firestorm abated.

An immeasurable amount of time opened around them as they lost themselves to the slow pattern that Natsu was following. Minutes, or hours, they were all the same as she breathed in and breathed out.

Then, Natsu spoke.

“Lucy?” He asked so quietly, she might not have heard if all other sound hadn’t already fallen away.

“Yeah?” She replied, turning her face up to look at him.

Anything else she might have said was swallowed down as he pressed forward, his lips closing the distance between hers in a soft, chaste kiss. Feather light and oh so fragile, the kiss sat between them as it it slowly sparked. One pop of heat. Another.

Another.

And then it was all consuming as Lucy pushed further into it, her lips slightly parting as she slid her hand from his. Swallowing the small gasp that tore from him, she dragged her fingers up along the line of his arm and across the strong bone of his collar before she pressed her palm against his heart.

It beat an erratic flow against her skin as she smiled, her lips turning up as she moved them against his.

Strong fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of her neck, anchoring her to him as he chased her breathy sounds with his tongue.

Everything about the kiss was soft and sweet with the underlying bite of something more that left her gut twisting in anticipation and burning want.

It wasn’t until pops of light began to color the backs of her eyelids that they pulled apart, their quiet gasps filling the night air as they looked at each other.

Pink colored Natsu’s cheeks as his black eyes sparked, their corners crinkling with the touch of a smile.

“We should stargaze more often,” he said, voice melting with a dark tone that stoked the fire at her core. Slowly untangling his fingers from her hair, he settled his hands down at his side and leant back against them as he turned his eyes back to the sky.

Dragging steadying breaths between her teeth, Lucy mirrored the pose as she let her fingertips brush across his in the grass.

Light filled the cavity of her chest with a fizzling brightness that threatened to carry her away as she flicked her gaze towards him.

“Yeah,” she said finally as her eyes traced the sharp lines of his profile. The simple word earned her a smile that stole all the light from the sky.

A beat passed as she admired the look before Natsu turned to her, the full crescent of his grin blinding her.

“So, Luce,” he said brightly. “What else is up there?”

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