#and wills darker sides have always been pure instinct

[kuroshika]

“i can feed the caterpillar, i can whisper through the chrysalis, but when it hatches, it follows its own nature and that is beyond me” okay so i need to see every single analysis that compares this line to how hannibal guides will into his becoming (“feeding” his encephalitis and his more twisted thoughts, speaking through the curtains to appeal to the darker parts of him) and how will has always instinctually known what fate laid ahead of him

[v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e]

I always had a hard time understanding why Jack shows any measure of trust in Will after him tells to his face that he wishes he had ran away with Hannibal (twice), but I think that at, long last, during this rewatch it dawned on me the reason why.

Because you see, Jack understands the appeal of this relationship for Hannibal. I think he's very insightful when he talks with Pazzi about it, about how Will is able to understand and accept Hannibal.

But I don't think that Jack believes that Will's desire to be with Hannibal is genuine. I think he believes that this is a byproduct of Will's empathy being off the charts, and that he is confusing Hannibal's desires with his own.

He tells him as much, during Tome-Wan:

And when he's talking with Pazzi, he also tells him that he "broke" Will's imagination.

And in Dolce, when Will tells him part of him will always wants to be with Hannibal, he just tells him to cut it out.

I think this is why during the Red Dragon arc Jack still looks for Will's help. While I think by that time neither one of them is interested in their friendship anymore and their relationship is purely professional (even a hostile professional relationship at times), I think Jack still believes he can trust Will and use Will's imagination with moderation, since Hannibal is behind bars now, and because Will has a family now - therefore a more stable, grounded life.

Maybe he thinks Will finally shook off Hannibal's influence enough to move on with his life, and when Hannibal tries to have Will's family killed I think he believes he can trust that Will will finally be willing to permanently remove Hannibal from his life by killing him.

It is, of course, a very risky gamble. A gamble he loses, and one he pays for, dearly.

As a member of the audience, it may look for us like Jack is being too trusting and too naive, but I think it's fair to remember that Will has kept a LOT from him. There's so much Jack doesn't know about his relationship with Hannibal.

Jack likely doesn't know that Will willingly (even gleefully) partook in cannibalism with Randall Tier's organs in order to fool Hannibal that he had killed Freddie Lounds. He never heard Will telling Hannibal how much he enjoyed killing Hobbs and Tier, never saw their conversations by the fire. He never saw the way Will speaks with Chiyoh and what he does to her and the prisioner, and he never saw the way he threatens Bedelia.

He never saw the look on Will's face when Hannibal snapped Mason Verger's neck.

He doesn't know that Will was worried if Hannibal could ever be happy while in prison. He didn't see the torn expression in his face when Hannibal didn't give him a fully positive answer.

Most of all, he doesn't know that, after the events of Mizumono, when Will fantasizes about a better world, he thinks about a world where he had chosen Hannibal sooner and had chose to go along and murder Jack with him.

Jack's perception of Will and Hannibal's relationship is distorted by how little he knows about how things really are beetween these two.

And I think Jack doesn't want to believe in Will has such a darker side on his own, because Jack is not the kind of guy who likes to be this wrong. During Will's trial, he struggles with the idea of having been that wrong about him, that his instincts where so wrong. And since the first season Jack has a habit of choosing to believe in the version of events that will better suit him, not matter how likely or unlikely they are.

The idea that after how much he stood by him, that how much he bled and suffered by plotting with Will at the end of season two, that Will has the capacity for so much violence and darkness is something he doesn't want to accept. Easier to see Will as someone who was broken and damaged, maybe beyond repair during the epic struggles Jack has with Hannibal in the course of the seasons than to believe this.

Alana tried to warn him as early as the end of season two that he didn't know any of those men, and if he forced the issue, he was bound to lose.

I think that, during a potential season four, Jack would only realize the colossal weight of his mistake in trusting Will to handle the plan with Hannibal's "fake" escape only when they had proof that Hannibal was still alive and Will had joined then, or when Bedelia showed up sans one leg.

But still, even with the ending that we got in the third season, Jack's decision to close his eyes to Will's darkness and genuine feelings for Hannibal ends up making Jack lose very, very badly.

[rocorambles]

Ruined Innocence

Pairing: Fallen Angel!Daichi x Angel!Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Manipulation, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Tentacles-ish, Forced Bondage, Corruption Kink, Dacryphilia

Summary: Not everyone is what they appear to be and you learn that the hard way.

A/N: This is for @seijorhi 's Deal with the Devil Collab! Masterlist can be found here.

You don’t love the way older angels endearingly pinch your cheeks and fondly ruffle the top of your head, sending you off on your way as they go about their chores. But you love the freedom to explore that comes with your new wings and you flit around heaven, adventuring out to the corners of the beautiful realm, eyes sparkling and mouth open wide in wonder as you see visions and scenes you wouldn’t even have been able to imagine back when you were a human.

Most angels congregate with each other, floating and meandering together as they perform their heavenly duties, content with harmony and unity. But maybe because your newly purified soul is still finding its way, you feel antsy, a very human adventurous streak still driving you as you sniff out remote and quiet corners, eager to see what’s around every corner.

There’s not a hint of wariness or sense of danger as you trek around, squealing as you continue testing your wings. Maybe it’s naivety, but who can blame you? You’re in heaven. Why would you ever think anything or anyone would harm you here?

Little do you know the archangels whisper to each other, sentries standing guard at every known opening between realms as the threat of warfare and espionage increases between heaven and hell after a devastating betrayal by one of God’s own most trusted archangels.

Sawamura Daichi.

It’s a name and a face that God has striked from heaven’s history, wiping the minds of anyone outside his inner circle clear of to maintain peace among the realm. And it works. Maybe too well.

A handsome brunette amusedly smiles at the lack of fear and recognition in your face as you cheerfully greet him, not a care in the world as you perk up and fly over to him, curious about the strange angel you’ve never met before.

Daichi had only meant to sneak in and out, hopefully spy and return back to hell with any secret information he could get out of his old fellow archangels. But like an attuned predator, his attention had snapped at the pretty little fawn he had seen playing in the outskirts of heaven, so vulnerable, so far from the rest of your feathery flock. And his mouth had salivated, something dark and yearning inside of him as he imagined how delicious corrupting your soft and sweet soul would be.

There’s no lack of powerful, beautiful, sensual female entities in hell willing to warm his bed. Daichi knows from firsthand experience, rarely spending a night alone. Even eternity is too short not to indulge in the sins of the flesh. But a part of him misses the docile submissive natures of angels, the thrill of power he feels knowing how easily his more angelic partners would listen and obey to his every whim and fancy. Playing with your food is all fun and games, but Daichi’s always found the actual act of devouring to be the best part of any meal. And you look absolutely mouth watering.

It doesn’t concern you that you’ve never seen this handsome angel before. Heaven is vast and as a novice angel, you’re sure there’s plenty of feathery companions you haven’t met yet. You’re more pleasantly surprised by the fact that there even is another angel in your secluded nook of the realm. And you’re quick to get comfortable with Daichi (although you blush when he so quickly tells you to call him by his first name).

He’s kind and funny. You can tell he’s actually listening to your every word and not just politely nodding like most of the other older angels you’ve met so far. He has a certain vibrancy to him that you can’t pinpoint, something so much more raw and vivid than what you’re used to from the more austere and demure palette of the rest of heaven.

But you startle when Daichi suddenly reaches out and slowly trails his fingers along the soft velvety plush of your wings, eliciting a startled gasp from you and a strange stirring feeling inside of you.

“They’re so pure and white.”

You try to laugh off the way your heart is pounding, the way your body wants to instinctively lean in closer to his warm touch as he continues languidly stroking your wings.

“Don’t be silly, Daichi. I’m sure your wings are just as pure and white, just like everyone else in this realm.”

You’re confused by his silent smile as he continues lacing his fingers between your downy feathers, but you don’t think to question it, not when it feels so right to just melt in the soothing feeling.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you startle awake when someone nudges you, face heating in embarrassment when you realize you’ve fallen asleep quite literally in Daichi’s arms. But you shyly smile when he waves off your profuse apologies, playfully whispering that you can make it up to him by keeping your meeting with him a secret so he doesn’t get in trouble for slacking off on work to hang out with you.

Your lips are sealed and in return for your slightly naughty deal, your heart warms and your eyes sparkle when he somehow finds you almost every day. You’re tempted to make a game of it, wondering if you made more of an effort to hide if he’d still find you. But somehow deep inside you know he would, that it wouldn’t deter him at all. And that thought alone brings a smile to yourself.

Is this what having a soulmate feels like? Do angels even have soulmates?

You know marriage is still a thing in this realm and you can feel yourself falling more and more head over heels for Daichi, letting yourself dream and think of what life would be like married to him, by his side for all of eternity. It would be a wondrous thing. A life full of adventures, laughter, kindness, and warmth. A life where you know you could always depend on him and trust him.

So when he kisses you one day, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you in close, you don’t resist. Instead you sigh in bliss as you feel your lips meld against each other. He’s so gentle, so careful as he deepens your connection, coaxing you into following his lead as he maneuvers the two of you on the wispy cloud cocoon beneath your feet.

You feel so loved, so taken care of as he murmurs sweet praises in your ear about how beautiful you are, how soft you are, how sweet you taste. But when you find yourself horizontal beneath him, scandalously molded to his body, hesitation and apprehension have you reluctantly separating your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

His hand cups your cheek, brown eyes staring down at you in concern and you feel more at ease as you nuzzle against his palm, gently pecking the center of it, ignorant of the way brown eyes darken at the action.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

“Can we- Can we slow down a bit? I love you, but we shouldn’t go any further until God blesses our relationship and we’re married. Right?”

It’s adorable how you know what’s right by heavenly standards, what you should and shouldn’t be doing. Yet there’s still a questioning lilt in your voice as you look at him for guidance, ready to take his lead and listen to whatever he says. You really are precious, aren’t you?

“We’ll be together forever. So what’s the harm in indulging ourselves now if we know that we’ll be bound for eternity anyway? Consider it a little sneak peek. Surely God will be forgiving if we go straight to him after this and ask him to bless our union.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He internally smirks at how your eyes light up when he expresses his desire to be with you. To his defense, it’s not a lie. He truly does want you with him forever, although he doubts it’s in the way you’re thinking. He’s no mind reader, but he can imagine the scenes of soft radiant glowing days and peaceful strolls hand in hand that race through your mind when you think of love. Unfortunately for you, the reality you’re being sucked into is much darker and much more stationary. (He sincerely hopes you appreciate the costs and efforts he’s gone through to spruce up his bedroom and bed as much as possible for your long-term stay considering it’s the only place he intends for you to see for at least a few centuries.)

This time you welcome him when he swoops down to capture your lips once more, your arms gently wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him down even closer to you. You bare your neck, easily following his silent commands as he trails kisses down from the corner of your lips to the side of your neck, gasping and arching into him when his tongue swipes a hot wet line at the junction of your shoulder.

You’re nervous as he coaxes you out of your delicate clothing and his cock twitches in interest at how you try to instinctively shield your body from his eyes, your arms crossing your chest, thighs clenching together. So different from the shameless females down below and he enjoys how it feels like he’s unwrapping an exclusive present as he eases your body, comfortingly kissing you as he guides your hands above your head and nudges your legs apart until he’s in between them.

You moan, writhing underneath him in a way that makes him groan as he sucks one of your nipples, rolling the other between his fingers. And he can’t resist how right it feels to grind and rut his clothed cock against your bare core, chuckling at how you whine and get flustered as he whispers to you about how wet you are, how much of a mess you’re making of his clothing.

You’re so sensitive, so reactive. He wonders if you could cum just like this, nipples toyed with and humping like wild beasts. You certainly look like you’re almost there and a mean smile splays across his face when he wonders what God would think if he saw his baby angel now, a lewd blissful expression blatant on your face, wanton moans filling the air. But time is limited especially when he’s not on his own turf and as much as he’d like to ruin you over and over again right here, right now, he knows he needs to deal the final blow.

He’s quick to shed his own clothing, firmly wrapping your spread legs around him as he finally sinks his cock inch by inch inside of you, throwing his own head back in pleasure as your tight wet walls wrap around him, eagerly sucking him in and clenching around him. It’s like you were made for him, made for this. And his eyes ravenously watch as you mindlessly blabber on and on about feeling full, feeling good.

He doesn’t usually like noisy bed mates, but you might be the one exception and he revels in your wails and broken cries as he begins to move his hips back and forth, observing how his fat cock obscenely stretches your pretty folds as he thrusts in and out. It’s impressive how you’re still hanging by a single fraying strand of consciousness when even seasoned succubi have succumbed into mindless pleasure-addicted messes from his cock. And he gifts the slipping clarity of your mind that recognizes him and calls his name over and over again with skillful circles around your clit, relentless until you’re thrashing and convulsing, practically screaming as you fall over the edge, pussy milking him and begging for his essence.

Who is he to deny you what your body wants? What your body needs? What he himself wants and needs?

So he finally lets himself go, sealing the deal with his own release, eyes twinkling in crazed amusement as his own wings finally flair out, revealing themselves to you for the first time as his body lances with pleasure. A sound halfway between a laugh and a groan escapes him as fear has you tightening around him and if he thought you looked beautiful before, you’re absolutely stunning now, shock and disbelief slicing across your perfect angelic face when you fully grasp the importance of his pitch black wings that shadow the both of you.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I thought you loved me.”

There’s no point in pretending to be gentle now and he forcefully pins your body down, slamming his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, biting on your lower lip and lapping at the blood that drips from your now marred face. Delicious. So fucking exquisite.

It’s tempting to continue and as he pulls away to regard you, he can feel arousal swirling inside of him at the sight of glistening tears streaming down your face. But he’s curious about your reaction, eager to hear what you have to say about this utter betrayal.

“A fallen angel…I slept with a fallen angel. How am I ever going to face God now?”

You’re not even looking at him anywhere, eyes glazed over as you mumble to yourself, mind still trying to process everything. And as pretty as you are with agony and sickening realization settling into your features, he scowls at the mention of God, irritation swelling inside of him at how fast you are to think of Him over Daichi, the fallen angel literally still inside of you.

He’s swift in his punishment, reminding you exactly where you are and who you’re with right now as he sharply juts his hips in a way that forces a surprised shriek from you as his cock rubs against your still sensitive walls.

“God isn’t your problem anymore, love. Look at your wings.”

Every part of you still in denial screams at you not to listen, to pretend none of this has happened, is happening. You want to believe God can make this right, that he’ll surely forgive you. But as if you’re in one of those inevitable horror films you used to watch as a human, your head slowly turns to the side, body going rigid when you see the expanse of ebony feathers where heavenly white used to be.

Now this reaction is much more satisfying and Daichi inhales your fear, a cold smile on his face as he watches you flail, wings wildly flapping as you try to somehow shake off the color, praying that it’s all a lie, that it’s not entirely irreversible. But he pins your wrists above your head when you attempt to painfully pluck out your own offensive feathers, peppering humiliatingly affectionate kisses all over your face to placate you.

“Please stop. Isn’t this enough? You got what you wanted. Tricked the silly angel. Made me an exile, a monster. There’s no place for me in heaven anymore. So just leave me alone. Please.”

You shudder at the dark laugh that seems to echo in your ears with his face right besides yours, cringing when you feel his wings droop down to rest against your own in an action far too intimate for what the two of you are.

“It’s not enough, darling. It’ll never be enough. But you’re right about one thing. You’re no longer welcomed in heaven, so let me bring you to your new home.”

You barely have time to understand the meaning of his words before you’re being whisked away, strong arms holding you tightly to a broad chest, the air around you growing darker, heavier, warmer. And then suddenly everything is still and you gasp as you’re thrown onto a silky plush surface, scrambling to sit up only to freeze in terror as you take in the grand and imposing bedroom you’re in, cold realization of exactly whose bed you’re currently on and what realm you’re in sinking in.

“No no no no no...At least let me go to Earth!”

You make to lunge off the bed, but an eerily familiar body forces you back down, once comforting brown eyes now only making anxiety churn alarmingly inside of you.

“I know it’s hard to believe me after all the lies, but I wasn’t lying about one thing. I do intend to be with you forever, so get comfortable, angel.”

You recoil at the mocking sneer associated with the pet name, the ironic use of the word disintegrating any fight left in you when the true hopelessness of your situation makes itself known. And Daichi watches in satisfaction at how you don’t even twitch as black shadows coil around your wrist and ankles, pulling you into a spread-eagled position, leaving your beautiful naked figure on full display for him.

But as despondent as you are mentally and emotionally, your body is already well on its way to adjusting and molding to his desires and he hungrily eyes the way it betrays you, arching and silently begging for more as additional shadow tendrils snake their way on and around every inch of you, some tendrils beginning to make their way in your gaping mouth, your still cum-filled hole, and oh...maybe he should have warned you that he planned on training all your holes, but he does so love the way your eyes blow wide open when a curios tendril wiggles its way into your puckered hole.

“Consider this your new full-time job, angel. Can’t have you living here rent-free after all. Now be good while I’m away and try not to be so loud. Wouldn’t want anyone else to hear you and decide they want a taste of a new fallen angel. I guarantee you no one else down here in hell is going to be as patient and kind as I am. Welcome to your new forever home.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, not that you’d be able to utter anything remotely intelligible around your screams and moans and the tendrils fucking your mouth. And as he makes his way to another meeting with Satan, he proudly flaunts his pitch black wings, a thoughtful smile on his face as he thinks of all the plans he has for you.

[wdwmarveldisney]

Not Your Fault

Isaac Lahey x reader

Request by @castieltheasstiel -So the reader is Isaac’s girlfriend and friends with Stiles, she lives with her dad (not really included in the story tho) and her mom is super emotionally abusive and she’s been stalking the reader via social media and stuff (because they live in different towns) and she’s been harassing her with txts and the reader is hanging out with the pack and she gets a txt from her and her mood like instantly changes and so Isaac takes her into a different room so they can talk and reader just completely breaks down and just sobs into Isaac’s arms and he’s just there for her and helps her.

Summary: Isaac’s there to remind you what’s happen is not your fault.

Masterlist

A/N: Okay took longer than expected but I had a busy couple of days so that didn’t help. I hope this is okay.

GIF isn’t mine

Everything had been going great, for the most part. The pack hadn't been facing too much danger, your relationship with Isaac was going steady and you were happy. But then the universe had to go and hurt you again. It was like you could never be happy for too long, something always had to come along and ruin it. If it wasn't some normal bad day then it was a wild supernatural that wanted to kill you. Or in this case, it was your emotionally abusive mother who was blowing your phone up with text after text. You had thousands of missed calls and unanswered messages that you couldn't bring yourself to even look at. With the fact that nothing bad was actually happening to the pack, you had opted out of confiding with anyone, not wanting to spoil the break from fighting with your pain.

Isaac had picked up on it though, you could tell. He never pushed you to say anything but he knew something was up and you knew he was desperately trying to hold back any questions. You wanted to tell him but Isaac had enough bad experience with parents as it is and dragging him into your family drama was not the way to go. So you kept to yourself and shut him out of that. You didn't even tell your dad, he had had enough with your mother and whenever her name was mentioned then he'd completely lose it. He basically hated her for the things she did and you didn't need his lectures on not talking to her and not having to do with her. Telling the pack wasn't a option too since they'd want to find to fix things and sometimes there just wasn't.

That's why, as you sat with the pack, laughing and joking, none of them knew of your buzzing phone. You hadn't looked yet, not wanting to sour your mood. Kira made a quick comment about Stiles' apparent 'emergency' that had everyone laughing at the annoyed boy when Isaac pulled you a little closer. His nose brushed by your ear and you held his hand tighter when he began to mumble to you, "Why does your phone keep going off?" It was like your heart stopped and you were so happy that none of the werewolves turned to you with concerned looks at your sudden panic. Apparently someone knew about the buzzing phone. As he moved down to rest his head on your shoulder, your hand went up to play with his hair, "Don't know," you lied and Isaac simply nodded as you slipped your phone out to try and turn off the vibration setting. But as you opened it up, another message came through.

Your smile fell and you licked your lips as you willed back tears. Just ignore it, you just had to ignore it is what you told yourself as you turned of the buzzing and put your phone back into your pocket. Your hand found Isaac's and you began to trace the lines on his palm and fingers. He sat a little taller, immediately picking up on the action and knowing it was something you did when anxious or upset, he moved to stand up. He held his hand out for you and you took it since you had guessed he had picked up on your switched mood. Scott leaned forward a bit with a raised as you stood, everyone having the same confused face, "You guys okay?"

"We'll be a sec," Isaac told them as he lead you out of the room and you sent a forced half smile to all of them. He took you to a room upstairs that you didn't recognise but that didn't matter. Isaac sat on the bed and pulled you next to him before laying back with you in his arms. It was a just comfortable as you nestled into his chest and he drew little stars on your arms to calm you down. But the tears built up regardless and you were struggling to hold them back. "I'm sorry," you finally broke, tears falling as you hid your face away. You couldn't believe you were crying to Isaac when you swore you wouldn't bother him with this kind of stuff. "Don't apologise. Really, I just want to know what's wrong," his voice was quiet and gentle, trying not to spook you. Fighting the instinct to shut him out, you shifted so your voice wouldn't be muffled, "Just some family stuff. My mum's been-"

"Your mum?" You could feel him tense and looked up to see his frustrated face. Actually, it seemed more like a suppressed rage that he was so desperately trying to hide from you. "Yeah. She's, um, she's just been texting me and stuff," his eyes grew darker and he sat up with you. You saw his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth and you didn't need to be a werewolf to know that Isaac was pissed. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" His voice was sweet and caring anymore, more like a harsh snap at you that made you flinch back lightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to-" Rushing to explain yourself, you missed the way his face dropped at the flinch and how he held his hands up with a sorrowful look on his face, "No wait, don't apologise. I didn't mean to scare you," Isaac reached out and wrapped his arms tightly around you before resting his forehead against the top of your head.

Once more, you broke and began to cry again, holding him just as tight. "I don't know what I did. Why does she hate me?" Isaac felt his heartbreak as one of his hands came to the back of your head to hold you closer, rocking the two of you slightly. "She doesn't deserve you, you know that right? You did nothing wrong," he whispered back, eyes screwing shut as he pushed back all the anger flooding his veins. He was so close to losing control just purely from the thought of her hurting you but he couldn't because you needed him right now. He yearned to make your mum pay for the pain she had caused but right now, you just needed him to be there for you.

"Then why doesn't she love me? Why doesn't she care? I have to have done something," Isaac shook his head, pulling away to hold your wrists and talk to you a little more directly. He hated that you thought you could deserve this in some way. "No, okay? You didn't do shit, this isn't your fault. It's her twisted mind, not you, understand?" You gave a weak nod, slightly scared by how determined he was to get you to agree. He seemed desperate, his grip probably harder than he intended. “Okay, good. C’mere,” his hands dropped from your face and he pulled you close again, swaying once more. As Isaac held his hand out for you to fiddle with, you couldn’t help but grin slightly. Yeah maybe things weren’t exactly best right now for you but you had Isaac. You felt so lucky to have him by your side.

[5sospenguinqueen]

PULL ME BACK FROM THE DARKNESS ~ CATO HADLEY

PLOT: You and Cato fill in the missing pieces of each other. 

Warning: smut, m/f, hints at PTSD and depression, slight breeding kink if you squint, slight size kink.

I am not responsible for what media you choose to consume. If you cannot handle the contents of this or are too young, please do not read. It is your responsibility, not mine. 

________________________________________________________________

Wet strands of hair dripped down your back as your fingers nimbly worked at braiding them away from your face. Not yet fully dressed, you leant across the sink to gaze into the small mirror to see whether the top of the braid was flat. A click resonated throughout the room and you couldn't help the smile that sidled its way onto your face as the thudding of heavy footsteps filled your ears. The hulking figure of the man who had been your rock filled the doorway and you connected eyes with him through the mirror. Rough fingers replaced your hands as he smoothed out the tangles in your hair and expertly twisted the strands together. Once he was done, you couldn't help but admit that he had done a better job than you would have done yourself. Reminding you that he had younger sisters who he'd been forced to practice on, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before stripping for his own shower.

Sinking your teeth into her lip, you heard him exclaim in shock when the water came out cold instead of the usual lukewarm. Guilt made its appearance once more when you realised you had used up the hot water for the day. Plopping down onto the mattress, you closed in on herself as the memories that had plagued you all day took their toll on you. For so long you had been fighting – fighting for survival, fighting other children, fighting your own mind. Whilst your hands were no longer covered in blood, they would never be cleansed of the innocent lives you had taken.

Pulled from your thoughts as a bare chest entered your view, you bit her lip at the towel slung around his hips. How it didn't drop any lower was beyond you but you found herself almost willing it to slide down. Leaning into his touch as he placed his hand on the side of your face, you looked up at him through your lashes.

"Rough day, baby?"

You remained silent, relishing in his strength for a moment or two. All you wanted was to lie down and wait for the fight to pass. To wait for the moment when her mind would fall blank and the memories would cease to exist. Eyes connecting with Cato's, you realised you had disappeared inside your own head once again. Concern was written across his face until you reassured him that you were present in the room and not back in the arena. Both of you had spent too long plagued by the chaos that had followed you out of the arena. Thankfully, one of you was always there to be the tether to reality. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Cato from looking at her as if she was one crack away from irreparable. 

"Stop," she demanded. "I'm not weak enough to crumble from one bad day. I’ll get through it, just like I get through the rest.”

"Sweetheart, I never meant-."

"No, I know exactly what you meant. The next Games are fast approaching and my nightmares are coming on faster and darker but so are yours. Snow didn't break me. I'm not some fragile little doll that needs to be hidden away whilst the pieces are glued back together again. I am perfectly mentally capable of mentoring the next lot of tributes without having a breakdown.” 

"Indie, this isn't about me thinking you're not strong enough, this is about me not being strong enough! How can I look at these small children and send them to their death. I've already had to deal with losing them before."

Falling to his knees, Cato buried his head in your lap and allowed the tears to fall. Whispering soothing words, you ran your fingers through his blond strands. Teardrops slid down your own cheeks as you watched the strongest person in your life fall apart. Cato had been there for you since the moment you had been reunited after your were rescued from the arena after cutting down all those in your way. He had been there to catch you every time you stumbled. Watching him feeling so hopeless shook you and although you felt like curling up next to him and giving in, you knew it was your time to be there for him.

"Listen to me, we've made it through death and we've made it through separation. Baby, I am just as scared as you but I know that we're going to get through this together. We haven't made it this far just to lose now. You and me, together, Cato. Forever."

"You don't deserve this." Cato sniffled, brushing away his own tears. "You've been through so much, lost so much, I'm supposed to be there for you."

"Cato, I'm your partner, it's my duty to be there for you. We fight together or we don't fight at all. Don't forget that we're from Career Districts. We're always strong and we never lose. We will not allow these next Games to strip away the strength that we have left."

"Well maybe, for one night, we reward ourselves with the luxury of being weak. Just tonight, let's forget about this stupid war and just wallow in our pity. Please?"

And maybe it was the broken look on his face, the sadness swirling in the sky blue eyes, or the fact that forgetting about the future Games was all you wanted to do, you granted him the only thing he had ever asked of you. Snuggling into his comforting (still bare) arms, you allowed yourself to cry about your own pain. The tears that fell weren't for the fallen and all they had left behind, they weren't for the deaths of the future children you were about to witness, these were purely for how mentally exhausted and rundown you felt. Soft lips kissed away your tears. One warm hand rested on the cool skin of your hip, having slithered its way under the thin shirt you slept in.

With a small inhale, you pressed your lips to his whilst your hands snaked their way into his hair. Salt mixed with the taste of his tongue but you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. A rumble echoed in his chest as his length pressed against you and he straightened, yanking you up with him. Spinning you around, Cato backed you up until you hit the wall with a bump. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you rested your head against the wall, back arching when Cato sucked on the sweet spot just below your ear.

"I love you," his lips traced the words down to the valley between your breasts before he wrenched the top over your head and threw it behind him.

Left hand reaching up to palm at your breast, his mouth wrapped around the nipple on the other one, tongue flickering over the hardened bud. Your breath hitched and you used your foot to deftly push the towel down and finally reveal what had been hidden from you. Exclaiming in shock, you scowled when Cato chuckled against you. When you reached down to grasp him, he gently bit your nipple but the action forced your hips against his and with one roll, he brushed against your clothed clit.

"Off," you begged, lifting your hips slightly away from the wall so that Cato could slide them down your shaky legs.

Fingers dancing along your legs, he reached down to cup your heat and one finger slid between your wet walls.

"I will never get sick of this," he groaned, watching as you bit your lip in pleasure.

Thumb rubbing your clit, he added another finger, watching as they plunged in and out of your slick heat. His name tumbled off your lips as your pleasure increased and Cato knew that that would be his favourite sound. If there was one sound that could banish the nightmares and dispel the darkness, it would be you crying his name as you tumbled over the edge, coating his fingers. Panting slightly, you pushed him away, revelling in the confused look on his face.

As you sunk to her knees, lust clouded his blue eyes until they were as dark as the sea in District Four on a stormy day. Hand wrapping around the base, you smirked as he hissed when your tongue licked a stripe from balls to tip. Mouth wrapping around his tip, you moved down ever so slightly before pulling back up. Hollowing your cheeks out, you sucked gently on his tip and was rewarded with a throaty groan as Cato bucked his hips, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

"So good to me, baby." Cato cursed, hand resting on your head as he pushed you down a little more.

Humming around him, you gagged when he jerked slightly and his dick hit the back of your throat. One hand gently fondled his balls and Cato swore before pulling himself away from you.

"As much as I love your mouth wrapped around me, I'd rather put my cock somewhere else."

Shivers skittered down your spine as his husky words were whispered in your ear and you found yourself being pulled of your knees before you were shoved against the wall face first. Large hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and you smiled knowing Cato remembered just how you liked it.

"Always so tight for me," he grunted as he slid into you.

Cheek pressed against the cold concrete wall, you whimpered as your walls adjusted to the girth of him. Teasingly, he slowly entered inch by inch until his impatient girl backed up and enveloped the entirety of him in one quick movement. One hand braced on the wall, small grunts escaped his mouth as h thrust gently into you. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred back of his hand, you rested your head against his hand in a loving gesture. A primal instinct ignited in Cato at the sight of his partner so small and vulnerable, as you let down your guard and opened yourself up to him both emotionally and physically. The woman beneath him was always so strong and fierce that he couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped as his body encompassed yours entirely as he pressed you further into the wall.

"Such a good girl. Take me so well," he praised, enjoying the little pants that left your mouth and with a shift of his hips, he coaxed a scream from you.

Unable to help the moans that tumbled from your mouth, you reached down to grab the hand that gripped your hip and pulled you against his cock. Love swelled within him as you held on tightly to him, begging him to go faster as you pleaded for her impending orgasm.

"I love you," you cried as stars exploded across your vision and your walls clenched him tightly.

At the feel of your orgasm, Cato burrowed himself in deeper and pounded harder into your sensitive walls.

"So close, Princess." Cato gasped, his breath hitting the back of your neck as he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his movements quickened as he sought release.

"Cum in me," you begged.

Not one to deny the woman he loved, Cato called your name as he stuffed himself inside you, hot cum painting your walls. Sensitive to his touch, you leaned back into his chest as his arms came around your waist and pulled you in for a loving embrace. One hand wrested flat on your belly as he whispered promises of having their own family but in a world where the Hunger Games didn’t exist. Naked and wrapped around one another, you could pretend for just a moment that you were a normal couple whose only issues were what to eat for dinner and how many children you wanted. Whimpering as Cato pulled out of you, you watched him wander into the bathroom in search of a washcloth.

Hand resting on your own abdomen, you wondered whether you would have end up with child. And, for the first time in your life, you found herself hoping you would. Struck by the aching pang within you, you realised that the life you had built with Cato had made you realise just how badly you craved a perfect family with the man you loved. In a world where they grew up safe and never needing to learn the ways to kill another person. 

________________________________________________________________

Loosely based on a scene from my Cato x OC story but details have been adapted to avoid spoilers. You can find the book Pugnator at;

Wattpad

Fanfiction.Net

[flowerwrites06]

utopic desire I — jjk

Plot: Under an elist system of Vampires, Jungkook is torn between his old values and the lowest ranked Vampire he begins to fall for.

Pairing(s): Vampire!Jungkook x Vampire!OC

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Series

Genre: Supernatural/Vampires | Angst/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: discrimination, explicit smut, angst, coarse language.

Authors Note: this is a repost after my break since I’m not really going to convert this one to original fiction. So enjoy to those who missed it! I’m doing it in parts cause posting big posts on Tumblr sucks. 

“Glasses, five o’clock.” Yoongi muttered mostly under his breath but enough for the group to hear before taking a small sip of his reddened whiskey.

Belle felt a light rumble in her belly at his words, turning her head a little to see the male sitting quietly at the bar counter. Blue sweater with some light wash jeans, thin rimmed glasses and slightly long messy locks hovering over his temples. The tiny pout on his bottom lip only added to what an adorable specimen he was. “Jeon?” She smirked.

Yoongi shrugged mimicking the little curl on her lips as his eyes flickered to the side to get another look of him. “Hangs around with the pure bloods a lot. Must be a favourite source.”

Jungkook was the quietest whenever Belle noticed him in the pure blood crowds and with the way he held himself, it didn’t seem like he was much of a power in the group. One of the vampires who she knew was called Vira always clung to him which she could only assume meant he must have been her human.

“Could be fun annoying the shit out of Vira.” Belle mused.

“Or dangerous.” Jimin spoke up, finger tracing the brim of his glass with the drink barely sipped on. “Pure bloods don’t like us meddling.”

“They don’t like it when I meddle.” She corrected.

Pure bloods had no issue with other pure blood vampires. Even Taehyung, they tolerated despite their dated views on humans. With her though, a spawn of an original vampire and a human was downright blasphemy in their eyes. Belle still wondered to this day why Jimin, Yoongi or even Kiku thought about including her into their group, tainting their name in the academy.

Yoongi nudged Jimin’s arm harshly. “For a Park, you’re a real buzzkill, you know that?”

Jimin rolled his eyes in response, raking through his blue hair before murmuring a small apology towards Belle.

“Do we have a deal or not?”

“What’re you willing to give me when I get him?” Belle leaned in, elbows rested on the surface.

A smirk plastered across the man’s lips. “If you get him to sleep with you, I’ll give you my Lamborghini.”

Belle scoffed. “Which one?”

“The Centenario.”

“Nah—I want the Veneno.”

“If you were less hot maybe but everyone wants you so…the Centenario.”

“Oh come on—”

“If it helps I’m pretty sure Yoongi came on one of the Veneno seats one time.” Kiku spoke gesturing a toothpick towards Yoongi who stammered a little.

Belle grimaced lightly. “Fine, the Centenario.”

“That’s only cause someone decided for the first time they weren’t going to swallow.”

“You literally begged me to let you come all over my face.” Kiku parted her lips in slight offense while Yoongi shifted in his seat.

“Okay now I’m really going to go.” Belle chuckled climbing off the stool and fixing her deep red, ruche dress fitted to her curves before walking to the bar counter.

Jungkook still had his eyes fixated on his drink taking one sip almost every hour while he was somehow deep in thought. Though as he noticed a figure walking his way, his head shot meeting two beetle orbs with shining ruby flecks scattered across. It glimmered in the night light resembling a dark faery of some sort though he knew she was no faery.

“Do you always sit around alone in the college bars?” Belle asked sitting down on the stool next to him, ignoring how her dress rode up her thighs when she did.

Gaze flickered down to the heavily exposed skin, body exuding a thick, warm scent flooding his nostrils and filling his lungs. Jungkook felt his head spin from the sweetness but found himself taking more in anyway. “I don’t like a whole lot of company.” He mumbled.

“Do I count as a whole lot of company?”

“Not really.”

Belle smiled, that tiny spark of accomplishment lingering in the pit of her belly but she knew not to get too excited. “I don’t like much company either.”

“You seem to have a few friends.”

“And I love them.” She nodded. “But I also love...more intimate company.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched briefly as he gripped onto the glass a little tightly. He watched her move forward with her arms folded under her chest, making them pop beautifully in the dim lighting. “What kind of intimate company?”

“Just two people. Me and them. Taking a walk, going to eat, having sex…” Belle let a small moment of silence linger between the two people before shrugging. “Intimate moments where it’s only between the two of you.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel a little tingle. How it was easy to just fall into her careful words and drown in her whole aura. “Do you get to do it a lot?”

The corner of her lips curled up a little. “I haven’t for a while.”

“That’s not good.” The scent grew thicker around him again and Jungkook sought it as a good sign enough to shift closer. A layer of ice melting between them with a new brewing heat.

She hummed sadly.

“How much did he bet?”

Belle peered up at him curiously, tilting her head. It didn’t really matter whether Jungkook knew it was a bet or not at this point. She already had him close enough. “A Lamborghini Centenario.” She smiled.

Jungkook raised a brow tempted to glance over at her group but he stopped himself. Not that it was too difficult when he started unintentionally counting the little ruby flecks in her eyes. “High price for little old me.” His voice descended into a darker register as he leaned closer, feeling a strange heat radiate from her skin. “You sure you want to take it?”

“Depends…how little are you?” Belle’s eyes flickered down his body momentarily.

He chuckled, licking the inside of his cheek as he glanced down at his drink. Now more than ever in this entire night, Jungkook lost full interest of filling himself up with alcohol that won’t even intoxicate him. He needed something sweeter. “Well I can’t confirm anything to you here.”

-

Hunger never tugged any stronger than a bad cramp with Belle. She found decent satisfaction in food but it was almost like strong, uncontrollable cravings when her body wanted to feed properly. A type of craving that needed to be satisfied for her own health and wellbeing. While Belle could take it more than any other vampire, refusing to take blood could still kill her just as easily.

Jungkook’s hunger was a basic need. His hunger panged and pulled at his gut, spread exhaustion through his limbs, head spinning uncomfortably. The last time he fed was on one of the history students in his group project. It was consensual but he couldn’t take much before the boy fainted. There was something different pumping through Belle’s veins, radiating with so much warmth and smelling so sweet that he made him a little dizzy.

Public bathrooms were not an ideal place for a feed but the dark purple walls and black marble floors allowed for less traces and easy clean ups. Door clicked as it locked. All Belle did was turn around before her whole body was engulfed with another, lips locked with his as he pinned her against the door. It was icy at first until it started meshing in with her own warmth allowing her to melt into it.

Somewhere deep in the thick lake of his thirst, Jungkook knew he should stop and go back to the bar to prevent any issues. If anyone found out who he was with in the bathroom stalls, they would give him hell beyond belief. But the thought drowned as quickly as he grabbed onto her hips and moved them to the sink counter.

Jungkook whipped her around until she bent over the marble counter a little, a smile curling at her reddening smudged lips. Looking into the mirror Belle admired the way his forehead knitted when she felt her dress push up to her hips. He brushed away her long hair to expose her shoulder and the crook of her neck.

Leaning in, he pressed wet kisses along her shoulder while his hips harboring a mind of its own ground against her plump bottom. His gut gripped at whatever satisfaction he could get from her smell. That thickly sweet smell just calling out to him. How was it possible? She wasn’t supposed to smell this warm. He wasn’t supposed to feel this hungry tasting her skin.

Belle tilted her head to give him more room waiting for him to get as riled up as possible before she took her own feeding. His large palms exploring every inch of her body, reaching up to her breasts and kneading them to light squeeze before trailing down her hips again.

Tongue traced across one particular spot, soft and sensitive. Fingers gripped at the roots of her hair to expose more skin before his fangs bared, white shining in the light before it sunk in. His whole body trembled in glee. The burst of warmth trailing down his throat, tasting so fucking delicious on his tongue that he kept taking in more. Jungkook moaned against her skin, one palm moving between her legs as he rubbed himself on her curve.

Her first instinct was to protest when Belle felt an intrusion on her skin. She held onto the edge of the counter so tightly that one of her nails could have cracked off. Except the words died on her tongue and the only sounds forming out of her were whimpers…pleased whimpers. The warmth that exploded through her was so thrilling, so intoxicating that her knees began to wobble.

Jungkook could feel himself getting full right to the very limit but he still took more. A slight tinge of concern sparked inside him. He was taking too much. Forcefully he pulled away and pressed his tongue against the injury to heal it quickly before taking deep breaths like they had already done the deed. He usually was really good at holding back. What was wrong with him?

“You’re a fucking trickster.” Belle breathed out with a light giggle. She really should be mad but her body felt far too satisfied to be angry. Though she still felt something stiff rubbing against her. With a cheeky smile, she swayed her hips against his causing the vampire to hiss and grab onto her.

“You wanted to do the same to me.” Jungkook spoke in a low growl, his eyes flashing back to his original red except it darkened in seconds with his ever growing lust.

“Except I can’t, can I?” Belle mumbled a little lazily, allowing him to dig his nails as much as he wanted into her skin but she still wasn’t going to stay put.

Jungkook buried his fingers through her hair and gently pulled her back so he pressed right against his torso. “You can’t tell anyone about this…” He whispered in her ear, lips brushing against her soft earlobe. “And you’ll still get your Lamborghini.”

Belle had it coming. The secret promise. Every pure blood or turned vampire asked her the same thing right when their moment of clarity passed through them after a night of heated movements and sinful noises.

‘ Don’t tell anyone I touched you. ’

‘ No one can know we were together. ’

She was never allowed to speak a word but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear them jabbering how the failed breedling begged for it with their other friends. “I promise.” She muttered like a familiar song.

Jungkook searched her eyes for a moment, the ruby flecks losing their usual twinkle when she spoke those two small words. His expression softened, grip on her hair loosening before moving his hand down to fix her dress gently as if it could somehow cushion on a blow he didn’t know he caused. But it was there. He could feel the way her skin chilled slightly disallowing him to melt into her again.

Before he could truly understand what that feeling was, Belle shifted away from his hold a little, setting up her hair again in the mirror. Not a single confused twitch on her features.

Then why was he confused?

He was the one who asked to keep it a secret so that was it. It would be selfish to expect some kind of argument when there was no way around the matter.

“I’ll have to go first.” Belle broke through the momentary silence. “Yoongi won’t believe something happened if you went out before me.”

“Why not?”

Another grin tugged at her lips even though the flecks were still dull and unexcited. “I usually tire out the ones I’m with. They have to take a break or at least look really out of it afterwards.” Belle walked over to him and patted his cheek.

Jungkook scoffed lightly though a little relieved he caught the tiniest cheeky glint before she walked out of the bathroom.

-

Two mornings passed and it left the pure blood emptier than he wanted to admit. Jungkook opted to take this particular dawn to cage himself in the gym for a few hours before classes started rolling. It was the best time when the whole building was empty save for the security guards. Eventually when he tired himself out enough not to think about those ruby flecks again and have the smell of sweat instead of that sweet, warm aroma, he started preparing for the library.

Apparently Vira and a couple of others wanted to get some readings done and it was getting too sunny outside for their liking.

The academy library was vast filled with books ancient to modern adorning shelves so much taller than him he could barely see the top. Jungkook had a simple black long sleeves draped on him as he walked over to the corner table and found Vira with an empty seat to her.

Deep red lips curled up into wide grin as she patted the seat and the male didn’t really respond much before doing as she silently asked.

Jungkook never found a whole lot of interest in the conversations his group mumbled towards each other and simply opened his books to skim through readings like he thought they were supposed to do. Though even with their words tuned out a little, his eyes still flickered up to scan the shelves, a few of the tables with quiet students curling on themselves. Except one figure glowed so bright near a few tables forward.

Her hair was not as black as he imagined it was in the bar lighting. It was almost a chocolate brown, a little messy and wavy with a small clip loosely placing back on side of it. Lips in a lighter pink tinge while wearing lilac thin sleeve dress with small peach flowers scattered across from what he could catch. Jungkooks’ lips twitched a little seeing her smile so easily with such a genuine aura when a blond haired girl next to her muttered something between them.

“Kook.”

He felt a harsh nudge on his arm causing him to shake back into reality and look over at Vira again. “What?”

“We saw you sneaking in with a certain someone back at the party.” One of the other pure blood vampires, Hoseok spoke with a wide smirk tugging at his lips. “The failed breedling.”

“I thought we called her a failed experiment.” Vira commented with a ghost of a smile over to Hoseok who chuckled in response. “Some kind of deformed rat in the lab.”

Jungkook curled his fingers against the table trying to kill the words that were desperately attempting to escape through him. “She’s definitely not deformed. I mean…we’ve seen Doyoung’s nose.”

A turned vampire, Doyoung shot a glare at the male while the rest of the group laughed in full agreement though quiet enough not to echo through the room.

Hoseok then turned back to Jungkook with his eyes flashing red. “How non-deformed is she exactly?”

Nails dug deep into his palm until the skin almost ripped. Jungkook was glad he had a good ability to hide his abilities otherwise his eyes would have been permanently red from anger. “She’s…kinda perfect physically. I fed from her.” You fucking dumbass.

“You did?” Vira didn’t care to hide her grimace, hand pressing to her chest. “God, aren’t you sick?”

“It tasted good.”

“Really?” Hoseok’s eyes faded into red for longer than Jungkook was comfortable with. That same faint smirk appearing back on his lips. “How good?”

Jungkook wanted to look back at Belle. As if there was this intense pull at his belly wanting to watch her smile so genuinely again and tune this conversation out again. “Better than a human.”

“Fuck, seriously?” Doyoung’s eyes widened so much his eyes could have popped out if he wasn’t careful.

“Maybe we should tell our original masters to take in more humans to breed.” Hoseok nodded down at his open and ignored book rested there for show.

Jungkook actively ignored the comment and gathered a bit more confidence to look over at Belle’s table again. His stomach jumped to his throat when he noticed those dark orbs meet his own. He held onto it, expression softening to admire how beautifully they sparkled, how her chest rose and fell. The way her lips curled up before she leaned into whisper something in her friend’s ear.

Vira scoffed without any care for volume. “They’d rather feed on animals than do that. One abomination is enough.” Every word was harsh and cut, not a single ounce of regret in what was spewing out of her mouth.

He heard the words but paid no mind to them when Belle stood up from the chair, giving him another smile before walking over to the other end of the library where the last, abandoned aisle was.

“If you ask me then they should’ve killed her along with her dirty parents.” Vira shrugged looking down at her long deep violet nails.

“I need to find a book.” Jungkook got up from his chair and walked through the library on the other side of the shelves away from the tables. He didn’t share a single glance to Vira when she called his name.

It was almost like a pull. Dragging him across the floor like a sorry but happy puppet, running to the one who controlled his strings. She shouldn’t be controlling his strings. But Jungkook still let her.

Finally he reached the last aisle, pausing in his tracks for a moment when he saw Belle leaning back against the wall shelf with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What happened to not telling anyone?” Belle asked with a faint smirk plastered on her lips.

Jungkook walked to stand right in front of the girl, the morning sun brightly shining through the window but thankfully high enough not to beam on the floor. “Who says anyone’s going to know?”

The cute smirk stretched into a mischievous smile. “You owe me a little.”

“How’s that?”

“You fed from me.” Granted, Belle strangely enjoyed the feeling far more than she would like to admit. “Yet I haven’t gotten anything from you.”

“You don’t think it’s a little selfish?”

Without a reply, she hooked her fingers on the frilly hem of her dress, pulling it up enough for him to see those thick thighs again. “Depends on how badly you don’t want to give me anything.” Belle couldn’t help but dive deep into her gaze when looking at the male. Thin black sweater with the sleeves rolled up to show off the veins popping from his arms after his morning workout, long tresses naturally curled and touching his brows. She could just imagine those fingers gripping at her skin.

Gaze darkened as he watched her plump, pink painted lips curl up into a smile while the rubies in her eyes disappeared almost completely turning into a blackened red. “Do you enjoy making a scene?” His voice grumbled, stepping closer until once again he was met with that beautiful heat radiating from her.

“It’s not a scene if no ones’ looking.” Belle murmured, breath hitting his lips almost magnetizing him to dip his head down further. “Besides—I already know your little quiet shy boy is just a façade now. Don’t expect me not to have a little fun with it.”

Hand grabbed onto her hips like his life depended on it, pads of his finger squeezing her until he heard a light gasp. “I’m not like your other sweet humans that you tire out, darling.”

“Well I wouldn’t know much from experience, would I?” Belle tilted her head, her nerves awakening with the way his fingers deliciously dug through her clothes into her skin almost forming permanent dimples.

Jungkook walked forward letting her stumble back so she rested further against the last shelf of books. Her scent filling her nostrils again and he sniffed in letting it flood his lungs and thicken right up to his throat. His hands latched off her hip and trailed down her short dress, rough fingers tracing her soft thigh. Sliding up thin clothing between her legs, his hands paused where he felt heat. Wet heat soaking through a thin soft fabric, almost soggy when he pressed his fingers against it.

Belle let out a shaky breath, gently caressing his rising chest. As the male pressed harder she could feel her erect nub throbbing out for him. The light spark of pleasure caused her to close her eyes. What a mistake that was. Almost instantly the pressure on her panties stopped and another hand grabbed onto her chin.

“Look at me.” Jungkook growled under his breath. Eyes flashed red when their gazes met again causing Belle to smile albeit a little shakily.

A soft hum emitting in her throat, Belle felt his rough fingers sneak into her panties. Rubbing straight against her nub jolting sparks of pleasure through her veins. It was too tempting to close her eyes and fully relish into the sensations but she kept her gaze on him. His eyes faded into an extremely deep crimson.

Fingers caressed circles on her delicate clit before sliding down her dripping slit. Spreading her nether lips, he slowly pushed in his middle digit, curling up deeper as he hungrily watched Belle part her mouth and throw her head back against the shelf. Jungkook dipped in latching his lips onto her jugular to get more of her taste. So warm. So fucking sweet. He tried to muffle out the groan against her skin. Jungkook pulled his finger out and slid back up to her clit, increasing his pace into a mild assault of pleasure.

Belle brushed through his slightly cold hair, giggling lightly as he gently grazed his teeth on the side of her neck before kissing her jawline. She tried soften her moans with her trembling breaths but tiny noises of desperation still escaped. The rush tightened in her lower belly. Warmer. Hotter. Her hips jerked against his movements, almost standing on her tiptoes.

Then her ears pricked for a moment. Footsteps echoing a little closer than normal.

“Someones’ coming.” Belle whispered in a shaky tone, trying to push Jungkooks’ hand out of her panties but he didn’t budge.

“I thought you liked making a scene, baby.” He swirled his finger around her clit in a tantalizing pace again forcing her orgasm to move to a distance again.

“Jungkook—”

As the footsteps grew closer, Jungkook whipped her around so she faced the shelf. The librarian appeared at the aisle giving them a quick glance as Belle pretended to pick up a book.

It only took a few minutes of her gazing around, looking for a book rather than watching them directly but it thickened the frustration between the couple. Belle cupped her core gently trying to gain more friction to keep her pleasure driving closer though it was hard not to move too fast.

Once the librarian disappeared, Jungkook dipped his hand back without a single moment of hesitation, rubbing up and down her slit to spread her arousal before torturing her clit again. Head buried in her shoulder he viciously rubbed her bundle of nerves as she held onto the shelves for dear life while the book she held dropped to the ground.

Belle leaned her forehead against the shelf feeling the tightness in her lower belly. Calling out to her and yearning for more of his touch. Fingers wrapped around his forearm as it moved at a lightning pace. “J-Ju—” Heat surged through her body spreading across her limbs, knees shaking causing to almost stumble onto the floor but Jungkook kept her steady. She let out a clearer whimper as he continued to drawl out her orgasm, rubbing at her sensitive nub at a tantalizing pace.

Jungkook pressed roughly against her clit causing Belle to whine and giggle breathlessly. He couldn’t help but grin at the sweet sound, relishing in the aroma of lust mixing in with her natural scent. He turned her around more gently, taking his fingers into his mouth and suckling off her delicious release. “Is that good enough?” He brushed and fixed the light tresses hovering over the girl’s face.

She grinned brushing down the creases in her dress. “Much better.” Belle reached out and absentmindedly caressed the neckline of his shirt with a softer expression across her features, padding closer until her forehead was almost touching his chin. She had a light hum under her breath as she nudged her nose against his jawline.

“What’re you doing?” Jungkook asked, immediately regretting his words when he felt her comforting touch leave him making him feel empty.

Belle stammered stepping back a little and avoiding his gaze. He won’t care for you. “Nothing.” She mumbled quickly picking up the book from the floor, placing it back on the shelf. This was all you were meant for. “Sorry.” Was the final word uttered before she rushed to disappear out of the aisle.

Jungkook took a deep breath to call her back but the words died on his tongue. He had a feeling why she did it. That needy feeling to just cuddle into a warm body after coming down from a high. The little want to be taken care of. The knowledge of it all only caused a squeeze in his chest. I’m sorry.

NEXT PART >>

[a-flickering-soul]

EverymanHYBRID And Deer In Media: In Five Parts (click for individual comparisons)

Deer are both a symbol of fragile purity and the untamable wild–here, we examine deer in the context of man, where deer come to represent the urge within us to abandon the conscious ego for the subconscious id. The deer is a symbol, too, of rebirth, of transformation, of shedding and regrowing its weapons each year. To kill, to be reborn, to choose to be monstrous through our proximity to humanity. Is there not something pure in surrendering to animal instinct? If deer are the twin themes of innocence and wildness, then we in turn are the juxtaposition of humanity and monstrousness–our actions made monstrous by the attempt to temper them with humanity.

(transcript, analysis, and sources below cut)

1: The Secret History & EverymanHYBRID--Bodies

The Secret History, on the killing of a man in a hallucinatory bacchanal:

"'Henry,' I said at last. 'Good God.' "He raised an eyebrow. 'Really, it was more upsetting than you can realize,' he said. 'Once I hit a deer with my car. It was a beautiful creature and to see it struggling, blood everywhere, legs broken ... And this was even more distressing but at least I thought it was over. I never dreamed we'd hear anything else about it.'"

EverymanHYBRID, "Ryan and the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT":

A shot of a deer's dead body at the side of the road at night, looking crumpled and not quite right. The captions read: "Jeff: It's a fucking deer, dude. (Evan: See it?) Yeah. Something cut its belly open. (Evan: It cut its belly open the wrong way.)"

Parallels drawn:

Consider this one an amuse-bouche. Henry draws comparisons between a man he killed to a deer he accidentally hit with a car, mildly naming the incident ‘distressing’. There is a lack of human empathy, of guilt over killing a fellow man. In comparison, Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie at this point in the EMH plotline have not yet become hunter or hunted–they have not yet been warped by their roles in this iteration and can acknowledge the upsetting nature of the events that befall them. Henry has tasted that amoral nature and is less human for it, more visibly willing to shed that veneer of attempting to care about other people. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie have not yet reached that point.

2: “Whoso List to Hunt”, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--The Chase

"Whoso List to Hunt", on hunting a fabled white hind:

"I am of them that farthest cometh behind./ Yet may I by no means my wearied mind/ Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore/ Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,/ Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind./ Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,/ As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain/ There is written, her fair neck round about:/ Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,/ and wild to hold, though I seem tame."

EverymanHYBRID, "Slushpops and Surprises”

A shot of white text on a black page, "[Enter the tragic hero and his unattainable companion.]"

The Secret History, on hallucinations experienced during the bacchanal (bold for emphasis):

“‘Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed. Actually it was miles. I know that for a fact. Apparently we ran and ran and ran, because when we came to ourselves we had no idea where we were.’”

EverymanHYBRID, “December & early January”:

A shot of Vinnie, hand covering his face in shock, as he sits and listens to Jessa’s last voicemail before she went missing. Jeff can be seen in the background, listening in silence. The captions read “[Jessa’s voice, recorded]: Steph, that thing you were talking about, I saw it...he’s real, he’s right here. What the hell does he want? I think he’s following me.”

Parallels drawn:

The deer symbolizes wild nature, something that man cannot obtain, touch, or capture without abandoning something of his own humanity. Similarly, deer represent the unattainable prey. Noli me tangere, says Caesar’s unattainable deer– touch me not, no matter how hard you may attempt to catch me. Jessa of EMH is deemed the unattainable companion and Jeff’s driving force to discover the truth behind the situation they’ve been placed in–it is Jessa, dangled in front of him after she goes missing, that leads Jeff down the path that inevitably leads to his own death after uncovering too much. The deer is to be chased, to be hunted, and never captured. Camilla from The Secret History believed herself to be a deer during the same hallucinatory bacchanal that cost a man his life, and led her brother and friends on a chase spanning miles. Jessa was hunted by an unknowable force, then used as bait to draw her partner down the path to his own death. Unattainability, the shape of something fleeing in front of you, elicits a powerful reaction to follow, to hunt, to chase. Jessa fell victim to that reaction. Camilla, and the white hind, did not.

3: The Myth of Diana and Actaeon, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--Madness

The Diana and Actaeon Fountain at the Caserta Royal Palace:

The detail of the fountain shown depicts the pivotal scene in the myth of Actaeon and Artemis, where Actaeon, mid-transformation into a stag, is killed for the slight of viewing the goddess Artemis nude.The sculpture shows the transformation in no mercy, plain in its depiction of Actaeon’s pain and terror, and the simple ferocity of the hounds that surround him.

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Jeff, blood spattered across him, speaking with a shocked and angry tone. The captions read, “Jeff: Why were we doing that? That was...that’s not what we were looking for. We knew damned well that wasn’t what we were trying to kill. (Vince: Close enough.) It was a deer! It was a fucking deer! I tried to pull you off, you tried to punch me in the fucking face!”

The Secret History, on the Greeks’ view of beauty and terror (bold for emphasis):

“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful to souls like the Greeks or to our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripedes speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being’.”

Parallels drawn:

Most depictions of Actaeon, sculpture or painting, usually show him with antlers or a deer lower body, leaving his head and face a recognizable human shape. However, the sculptor here decided to subvert expectations and leave his body human, giving Actaeon the animal head of a stag. The loss of control and the descent from human to animal is not glorified or made palatable by the mere addition of a crown of antlers--there is only the one constant, fear, that follows him all the way down. Madness may be defined as a loss of control, and there may be something beautiful and terrifying in feeling your sanity slip through your own fingers. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie are overtaken by brief, inexplicable madness and tear apart a deer as they come dangerously close to uncovering exactly who and what is hunting them. They skate close to seeing soemthing they shouldn't see. It is only Jeff who looks up, shocked by the blood on his hands, and voices his fear. Vinnie, apathetic, lets it go. But Evan, houndlike and irrational, defends his kill.

4: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Warnings and Temptation

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Evan, spattered heavily with blood, standing with shoulders caved in protectively. His left hand is raised to his mouth, with his hair covering his eyes, and he is licking the blood off of his fingers.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“In my post about ravens, I talked about how it’s not always easy to tell what the Ravenstag really means. Is it evidence of the Hannibalesque elements of Will’s soul? Or a warning of those parts growing within him? Does the Ravenstag urge Will forward on his journey, or warn him of what’s to come?”

Hannibal, Season 1, Episode 1 “Aperitif”:

A shot of the Ravenstag, staring directly into the camera with one hoof up, as if to approach. There are black feathers interwoven with its pelt and its eyes have an uncanny shine.

Parallels drawn:

On a naturalistic note, deer are skittish creatures. They have thin legs and a sleek body, made for running. A small head and big eyes, placed wide-set to see coming predators. Keen ears. They are ready at any moment to sense danger, warn others, and flee. When a deer does not move, it is either safe or sizing up its options, either accepting where it is or preparing to run. Deer, staring directly at the viewer, come as a sympathetic warning to flee or, in its dark eyes and firm stance, a temptation. Me tangere, they say. Come closer. We are one and the same. In Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, the commanding presence of the Ravenstag serves as both a warning and a beckoning temptation to turn his feet down the darker path. It is otherworldly, black-furred and feathered, and yet a warning of events rooted in the real world--does Will understand what danger he is in upon meeting Hannibal and take the warning, or will he ignore it, sensing that same darkness in himself, that same potential for corruption? In EverymanHYBRID, it is that same killing of a deer that hints at that same potential for darkness growing inside Evan. He licks at his fingers, animalistic, fully ignoring his own Ravenstag warning signs for the delight of the hunt. Is he Evan anymore? Or is something else growing inside him?

5: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Predator and Prey, or the Final Act

EverymanHybrid, “:D”:

A shot of HABIT, looking up a set of stairs with one foot on the bottom step. In one hand down by his side, he is holding a knife. His posture is tilted forward, poised, ready to spring into action, like that of a hunter.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“The idea of deer as symbols of rebirth also stands out to me. Hannibal is a series obsessed with becoming and transformation. People start one way, and are reborn as something completely other by the end of the show. There’s even a character sewn up into a deceased pregnant horse in the hopes that when she’s released, she will be literally reborn as something different. It’s thus a neat fit, this significance of deer with the themes of the show.”

EverymanHYBRID, “:D”:

A shot of Jeff, looking up and to the side with an expression of caution and fear. His eyes are unnerved, squinting as, from offscreen, HABIT’s hand plays idly with his hat.

Parallels drawn:

The first and final incarnation of the deer is, of course, prey. Beyond and before any symbolism of innocence and wildness and warnings, deer are prey animals, to be hunted and devoured. And yet, in keeping with the concept of contrasting symbolism, deer are not helpless. Yearly, they shed and regrow their antlers in a transformation of horn and blood. At the climax of EverymanHYBRID, the final reveal, the final transformation, comes to fruition. HABIT, formerly Evan, takes its place as the Hunter, the archetypal predator, with Jeff shown most prominently as the Prey. Jeff’s luck has run its course, with him in the chair as the sacrificial prey-victim to fall to HABIT’s knife. HABIT, reborn, reiterated, made incarnate through Evan’s unwilling transformation, is poised to start the hunt. This is the big reveal, the crux of the transformation, Actaeon caught mid-transfiguration and the bloody sloughing-off of velvet humanity to reveal perfect and gleaming antlers. This is what it comes down to, time and time again. The hunter and the hunted. The wilderness embraced and the wilderness captured, and the monstrosity in that act.

Works Cited

Callimachus. Actaeon and Artemis. C. 220 BC

Fuller, Bryan. “Apetirif.” Hannibal, season 1, episode 1, NBC, 4 Apr. 2013.

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2011, July 12). May & June [Video file].

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2012, October 9). :D [Video file].

Tartt, Donna. The Secret History. Penguin, 2006.

Uhminuh. “Shot Through the Hart, and Hannibal's to Blame.” Read the Rude, Wordpress, 19 July 2020.

Wyatt, Thomas. “Whoso List to Hunt, I Know where is an Hind.” c. 1530.

Honorary mention to this fanart by @/rrhaes that started this whole spiral

[anika-ann]

Attached: Tied to You

Type: series, modern-college-professor Steve AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3330+760

Summary: Steve finally got to ask the question and you said yes. But having been sick, you didn’t really have a chance to celebrate… until now.

Warnings: nsfw, 18+ (if you’re a minor, don’t you dare), light bondage, hints of dom/sub, ‘babygirl’, oral (fem receiving), language (always) and you’ll see the rest, I guess  (if you think it needs any other warning, lemme know)

A/N: Me: *Abandons the little she wrote of upcoming plot of this fic to write a damn smut.* Blame @chase-your-dreams-away and the support from the @sweetanon and @annathesillyfriend from a two days ago. Enjoy?

A/N.2: there’s a surprise at the end, sort of a bonus if you will, hence the +760.

Story masterlist

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You were pulled from blissful sleep by a tickly sensation on the crook of your neck, soft and little scratchy.

Your initial startle was soon soothed by a warm touch of lips and you relaxed again, sinking further into the cushions, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you sighed.

Steve’s lips trailed up the side of your neck to your ear, his hand on your belly gently caressing over the fabric of your sleepshirt.

“Mornin’, pretty girl,” he whispered to your ear, voice husky from sleep still and you couldn’t hope to hold the mewl that slipped past your lips at his tone. The warmth of the comforter mingled with the one Steve’s body was radiating; and the one swirling deep in your belly. That was how far that voice affected you. “How ya’ feelin?”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, nestling further into his embrace and he didn’t hesitate to pull you closer to his chest.

It gave you a perfect opportunity to feel a lot more than Steve’s body heat and your smile widened lazily at the morning occurrence.

“Words,” he muttered, daring fingers slipping under the hem of your top, caressing the bare skin under your navel lovingly.

“Warm. Safe.”

A huff of hot breath tickled your nape when he chuckled at your response. There was something delicious about that sound, something darker than pure amusement. Deft fingers travelled up your front, teasing the underside of your breast and your breath hitched.

“Wouldn’t count on the latter, babygirl,” Steve warned you lowly, unsubtly rutting against you from behind, causing the warmth in your core grown in intensity. “And I meant health-wise.”

You weren’t sure if the choked sound that escaped your lips was due to the cheeky flicker of Steve’s forefinger against your nipple or-

“Too early for big words.“

He stroked the peak firmly the time, causing it to perk up, sending a pleasant jolt to your spine.“Babygirl…”

Quick assessment had you decide that you actually felt… okay. Headache gone completely. You didn’t feel like you were about to sneeze in five seconds… and in ten seconds… and your nose wasn’t running. God bless.

If anything, you were feeling a bit too warm, but you didn’t think it was to be blamed on fever unless the fever was called Steve.

“Fine. I can breathe,” you informed him breathlessly, ironically enough. “Want something, Stevie?”

Rather than replying, he gently squeezed your nipple, his other hand sneaking between your hip and the mattress to toy with the waistband of your shorts. His beard moved to the tricky spot on your neck, sending a shudder through your body, blood in your veins set aflame.

It had been too long. First Steve was sick and then he got you sick—

Hands moving, one went to lavish your other breast with attention as the other slid under your shorts to your thigh, caressing the sensitive skin on its inside, painfully close to your centre, which was already growing slick.

Several days too long…

“Want you,” Steve murmured, teeth grazing your shoulder, hard evidence of his words rutting against the globes of your ass. “So much… saw you…”

You tried to roll over, confused at his remark, but he gripped your thigh tight, preventing your from moving.

“Saw me?” you whispered then, rocking your hips to create some friction for him since he was all hands on you while your options were limited.

“Uh-huh… cute white set, all lace, almost see-through,” he continued, one finger reaching your clothed pussy to tap the slit. You could feel him smile against your shoulder when he touched the damp fabric and your thighs jerked in response.

You weren’t ashamed… oh no. You could feel the air crackle with arousal, easily tuned to Steve’s mood. And you were rather horny, who were you kidding, but also intrigued. Was he… sharing a dream of his with you?

“…oh?”  you sighed, chasing after the finger that went back to its original position, leaving you wanting more. Smug bastard.

“Had such a pretty garter for me too, right here.” He caressed the offending spot, the visual making you gulp; you knew how much he indulged in garters, alright. “Let me pull it down with my teeth once it was over… not in front of everyone, only once the guests left…”

Through the rising fog of arousal, you blinked your eyes open, realization dawning at you.

Oh. White set. Garter and teeth. Guests. Oh.

He dreamed of- your left thumb automatically touched your ring finger, reaching the warm metal band there. Your engagement ring. Steve dreamed about your wedding – or maybe rather about what came after.

Hands wandering again, he pushed your top up, his mouth, so pleasantly warm, accompanied by the well-loved feeling of his beard on your skin travelled down your spine, and as if on instinct, your back arched to give him better access.

An approving hum vibrated against your lower back, quick fingers tugging down your shorts and you went to kicked them as carefully as you could, Steve’s hands already busy once more, on your lower cheeks, on your thighs.

You swore you must have had a fever again, or maybe he did; his touch burned as he toyed with the thin string of your panties, kicking the already messed up comforter away completely.

“Wouldn’t lemme strip it in front of them,” Steve muttered, and you yelped silently when he unexpectedly rolled you to your back, pressing a kiss to your hip. “No, too shy, my pretty girl, sweet girl…”

You choked on your breath as he nosed at your weeping core, looking up to your face with half-lidded eyes. Jesus, who gave him the right to look so utterly irresistible so early in the morning? Eyes dark with lust, hair mussed in a perfect case of bed-hair--- and when did he lose the t-shirt?

Your hands finally came to life, reaching for his dark blond strands. His beard prickled against your most sensitive places as he kissed you over the fabric and blew cold air there right after.

You jolted at the bed, blood hushing in your ears. Christ. Such a cheeky shit. Sweet talker. Dirty talker.

“Steve,” you whined and tugged at his hair, a minute from begging him to do more. Ignorant to your unspoken plea, he grabbed your hips to keep you still, pressing another kiss where you needed him most – but with no clothes between you.

“But fuck, the things you let me do to you when we were alone…” he continued as if you didn’t say a word.

You knew it was a trap; it was obvious that he was baiting you. He was about to drive you mad, tuning the dirty talk up—and fuck, you were weak for his dirty talk, he knew that. Yet you still asked.

“What—what did I let you-do-“ you stuttered when he shifted and laid his forearm on your lower belly, using his free hand to push the panties aside and gave a kitten lick to your clit, causing your pussy to clench on nothing, sending a jolt hot want through your whole body. “Oh god-“

“Whatever I wanted, babygirl. Said yes to being mine… completely,” he said before delivering a few more tiny licks, making you squirm and uselessly tug at his hair some more.

Could you fight harder? Probably.

Did you want to? Really want to? Oh no. He knew exactly what he was doing and you were together long enough to know he was going to have you seeing stars before you could say ‘Professor Rogers’.

“Been so pretty and helpless and mine for taking…”

Oh. Oh, you were going there.

“Yes,” you breathed out before you could even think of it. Steve’s forearm dug into your hips at your swift consent, hungry eyes boring into yours.

“Yeah, babygirl? You’ll let me tie you up a bit? Have that hand with that pretty shiny ring where I can see it the whole time?”

You nodded feverishly, rewarded by his tongue running a solid strip up your slit and a self-satisfied grin radiating excitement. Oh you did not miss the flash in his eyes. He was gonna have you begging for it, you were sure.

But just hinting that a big part of this was his delight at being engaged, celebrating? You would let him tie you up more than a bit.

The warmth of his body disappeared for less than a minute as he was back in a record time, a tie in his hand.

“Kinky,” you noted with a considerably less cheek and more desire than you were willing to admit to anyone beside Steve. His eyebrows shot up in challenge, smirk curling his lips.

“I thought that was given. Be a good girl, take off that shirt and put your wrists together for me.”

And you did. The knot he tied was firm, but not painful; you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your face to check. He was sweet like that. Kinky, but very sweet, still your Steve. Your fiancé.

“Good girl,” he praised and you nearly came on spot when he kissed you, shamelessly and dirty, firm grip on your jaw, tongue exploring and giving you a taste of yourself. His teeth grazed your lower lip then, pulling at it a bit and you honestly thought you were gonna combust. “So pretty, so giving. Gonna make you feel good... future Mrs.Rogers.”

Alright, alright, that gave you an unfair thrill to hear him say it.

“Gonna eat you up, babygirl.”  

You gulped as he flashed you another sinful smile, cheekily kissed your nose and your ring finger and proceeded to begin the sweetest torture you could imagine.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You forgot how to breathe.

All you had the capacity to do was to whimper a pathetic please, barely audible as it drowned in the faint buzzing you felt in in the marrow of your bones, driving you crazy with need. All you could think of was the vibrations tickling your core, feeding the searing heat in your abdomen, mercilessly pushing you towards your third peak.

First, Steve had you fall apart on his tongue alone.

Second, those skilful fingers played you like he was a musician and you were his favourite instrument.

And then he was gone and you thought he was gonna finally strip completely and fuck you into the mattress, but no. He came back with a toy which you basically forgot you had, because, well, you had the real thing and Steve asked to bring the item to your activities very rarely.

The setting was on low, so torturously low and driving you mad as Steve only dragged it up and down your sli,t barely nudging your opening, but so so sweetly, encouragements and praises whispered in your ears, sloppy kisses dropped to various parts of your body… how could you say no? You might have had a safeword, but why would you use it when Steve was taking such a good care of you?

“Look at me babygirl. Let me see you, one more time,” Steve’s voice seemed to reach your ears from immense distance. Yet, you obeyed, eyelids heavy. Steve’s eyes welcomed you, shining with satisfaction as he watched you tremble on the verge of another orgasm. “So pretty for me. Give it to me.”

You weren’t in control of your own body anymore. You felt the vibration turn up a notch and the toy moving to your clit and you were a goner, eyes falling shut again in bliss – you would swear your vision turned white for several moments, Steve’s mouth swallowing your moans as his body covered yours, removing the device.

You reciprocated the kiss weakly, hips bucking against Steve’s, vaguely aware of his hard, which must have been painful at that point – but at least he was finally naked too. Your hands felt like made of lead as he reached to release them. They landed on his arms on instinct, shaking a bit as you frantically tried to map Steve’s marvellous body, having been missing the opportunity for what felt like forever.

He grunted to your mouth when you stroked his cock, gently swatting your hand away, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You were such a good girl for me,” he mumbled, nibbling on your lower lip, on your jaw. “So pretty for me when you lost it, wish I’ve recorded it. You feelin’ okay, babygirl?”

It felt so surreal to have him talk like that and being turned on just as you came down from the out-of-body experience he gifted you. Even more surreal was his question – as if you could not be.

“So okay, Stevie. You have no idea,” you managed to whisper, fingers slipping into his hair to pull him for another kiss. He gave in, greedily taking all you had to offer, hand kneading your breast, brushing an awfully sensitive nipple.

“Can you still take me, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flew open, staring at him at shock. Was he—was he suggesting that after all that, you were gonna leave him aching? Well, not necessarily, there were other ways, but—Jesus, you loved this man. So filthy and yet so sweet. Did you make him up? Was this some ever-lasting dream?

Then again, he kinda had a point when you thought about it.

“Yes. Yes, Jesus, Steve. I’m just not sure I can--eh, you know. Three’s a lot already,” you admitted, slightly ashamed as you stared into his eyes, the blue of his irises practically swallowed by his dilated pupils. You didn’t think you ever came more than three times. Not that anyone ever tried to make you. “But I want you inside me.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you, babygirl.”

Tired smile spreading on your lips at his lingering hesitation, you cradled his face, looking him straight in the eye.

“I trusted you so far-“

“And it means a lot to me-“

“I love you,” you continued, but he interrupted you again, the sweet dork.

“I love you too, so much.“

Oh, the feeling was mutual. But that was not the point at the moment, as sweet as the sentiment was.

“But if you don’t use my cunt to get off right now, I’m gonna-“

The choked sound erupting from his throat was quickly followed by his large hand grabbing your jaw and shutting you up with a brutal kiss, punching the air straight out of your lungs. Somehow, you still found room to grin into it; that was what he got for dating a woman who wrote porn about him before they were even introduced.

“Mouthy. Such a bad girl,” he growled against your neck, the swollen head of his cock coating in the generous amount of slick between your legs.

“Am I? Thought I was being a good girl for my future husband… willing, ready for tak-“

He pushed into you in one swift movement and the teasing died in your throat, mouth forming a breathless ‘o’. No matter how many times you were together, he always filled you up so good. And now, not dragging it out and stretching your sensitive walls all at once—yeah, you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Steve too panted above you, getting used to the sensation as he finally slid home and bottomed out.

He recovered quickly; and he didn’t bother with words anymore, his appreciation reduced to grunts and moans as drove into you. His hands slipped under your ass and he angled your hips to his liking, giving a few slow, deliberately deep thrusts. Much to your surprise, you felt the coil in your belly forming again as his tip kissed your cervix.

And then his hands disappeared, from under your body, finding your wrists and pinning them next to your head, making you gap —and he took you. Hard and fast, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room, his pubic bone hitting your clit as he pistoned into you, causing your body to climb towards your fourth high in a speed of light. His eyes bore into yours and had you had the capacity to think beyond the drag of his thick length along your walls, you’d be touched at the way his eyes flickered to your left hand occasionally.

It hit you without warning; a faint flutter in your core, barely there, but you felt in all the way to your fingertips as you squeezed him, a breathless Steve falling from your lips.

“Fuck-- FUCK, baby--- you’re-“ he choked out incoherently, fingers digging into the flesh of your wrists as you milked his cock. And then he was gone, leaving you feeling unfairly empty.

Like a rag doll, still stunned that he actually made you come four times and made your bones feel like turned into jello, he flipped you over to your belly and grabbed your hips, driving home once more, setting a downright punishing pace, going faster than before even if you had thought it wasn’t possible.

The last few thrusts were bordering on painful, your body entirely spent and not able to accommodate him anymore, but the sting was soon soothed by the sensation of his cum painting your walls, a guttural sound of pleasure escaping him. You eased your grip on the sheets, breathless as he drove into you slowly, dragging out his orgasm.

His left hand found yours, fingers interlacing. It was when you realized there were a few tears rolling down your cheeks, but you weren’t hurting – except for in your chest, huge amount of affection for this dirty loveable man swelling near your heart.

He stayed inside you as he softened and he fell to his forearms, sticky and warm mass covering you like a blanket, wet kiss landing on your shoulder. You turned your head to side with a goofy smile, searching his lips and he complied, kissing you gently, all heat gone.

The kiss tasted of salt of your sweat, but you couldn’t care less, actually giggling when you realized what just happened – and the fact you had troubles catching your breath seemed like the most amusing thing in the world to you at the moment.

“What’s funny?” Steve muttered as he nuzzled to your neck, fingers squeezing yours.

You rested your head on one cheek so he could see you grinning. “Nothing. I just really love you, Professor Rogers.”

He groaned, feeling that his cock most definitely twitched at the addressing. “Don’t start, babygirl.”

You giggled again, endorphins overflooding your system. You were just… truly happy. Euphoric. In the arms of a man whom you loved with your whole heart (and body) and you were about to marry him. And he just made you come four times. What was not to love?

You winced when he slipped out, which drew a quick and honest sorry from him and earned you a kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Stay here, sweetheart, I’ll just-“

“Nope, you stay,” you pleaded and made weak grabby hand on him despite the sensation of his seed leaking out of you. You were due to changing the sheets anyway, what more harm could it do? “We both need to clean up. Might as well get the post-orgasmic cuddles before we do.”

Steve chuckled, falling back into bed, pulling you close, chest to chest.

“Is that even a thing?” he teased you.

“You tell me. You were the one who was dropping words like health-wise at like… what is the time anyway?”

“Who cares, it’s Sunday,” Steve muttered, hand sneaking between your intertwined bodies, dipping two fingers into the fluid on your inner thigh, mindful of being gentle when he dragged it up and pushed it back into your pussy, causing your breath to hitch.

So fucking filthy he was, your future husband.

“Kinky,” you remarked half-heartedly, nuzzling into his chest, feeling his grin in your hair.

“You love it.”

You hummed in agreement, kissing his collarbone.  “I love you. Which is why I said yes.”

He reached for your jaw to angle your head and catch your lips in a kiss, loving and nothing like the ones he was stealing from you just moments ago. He was grinning like a loon, genuine joy all over his face.

“That you did, babygirl. That you did.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ bonus ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

When you finally emerged from the bed, your stomach was growling, everything was aching – not like flu-aching, a pleasant ache –, you were sticky, but entirely content until a terrible realization hit you.

“Oh my god,” you whined, planting your ass back on the bed.

Steve shot you a look of concern – and amusement – and went to crouch in front of you, his hands engulfing yours. He didn’t forget to indulgingly caress the ring in the process.

“What’s wrong? What hurts, sweetheart?”

“My brain.”

“Your brain?” he chuckled curiously and you couldn’t but pout at him. But on the inside, you were barely holding back laughter too, at the ridiculous scene; since you had both headed to the bathroom to clean up, you were still completely naked and you imagined it must have looked like Steve was Adam about to propose to Eve.

“Yes! I go back to school tomorrow? I haven’t told anyone besides Penny!”

“I mean, Bucky knows,” Steve offered with a shrug. “Sam does too… maybe he told Tony?”

Your eyebrow shot up.

“Oh, so all staff knows? Dandy. But I didn’t even tell my parents yet…” you whispered, actually troubled. You had no intention whatsoever to tell you father just so he could call a to-be married whore or something, but maybe he did deserve to know. Your mum certainly did. “Well, my mum at least.”

You expected a cheeky comment. Maybe a comforting touch. But Steve just stared at your collarbone and… blushed, the tips of his ears turning red. You frowned.

“Steve?”

He shifted nervously, gaze flickering to yours before he bit the inside of his cheek. What was going on in his head?

“Eh, I, look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to…” It’s like pulling teeth, for god’s sake. “She… uhm, she kinda already knows.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you blurted out and chuckled, because… what? No, she didn’t. How would she- “…Steve?”

There was no denying the intense crimson colour in his cheeks. But at least he looked you in the eye like a man and made a confession.

“I told her. Texted her the same day you said yes, because… eh, she kinda knew I was gonna propose since we met in November, because apparently, I am that obvious, but when she told me I am, she also gave me her blessing, so… yeah. That.“

With every word, your jaw was falling lower and lower, your heartbeat picking up pace. What the hell was he talking about?!

“Whoa, whoa- my mum knew you were gonna propose? And she—oh. Oh. That’s… okay, I think?” you said, uncertainty lacing your voice. It was a lot to process, but… you guessed it wasn’t anything bad.

“I’m sorry I went behind your back, I’m sure you wanted to tell her yourself, but I was just so happy and-“

“Hold on a second!” you blurted out, horrified when everything finally clicked. “So my mum knows we’re engaged for days,” you emphasized, feeling all blood draining from your face. The glare you shot Steve could kill; at least he had the decency to look guilty and wordlessly begged for forgiveness. Damn his puppy eyes! “So she knows I kept it from her for DAYS!”

“I guess?” Steve hummed innocently, slowly rising to his feet and withdrawing as he saw the flames in your eyes.

And oh, he knew why. You grabbed a pillow and hit his bare thigh with it, somehow all furious, horrified, utterly amused and content at the fact that your mum already knew and approved and she really liked Steve and--- but still!

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, you little SHIT! She’s never gonna let me live this down!”

“Sorry, babygirl!” Steve just threw over his shoulder as he ran to the bathroom, you fast on his heels. You managed to catch up before he closed the door.

“You better spoil me with a bubble bath, professor Rogers, otherwise the little friend you used to get me off for the third time will replace you for foreseeable future!”

Steve gasped, pretending to be deeply offended. “You don’t mean that!”

“Oh, I do. Try me.”

A slow devilish grin spread on his face and he stalked to you, bending to whisper in your ear, already making you feel hot all over again, helpless against his stupid charms.

“Aw, babygirl… I’d like to see you try. In fact…” he muttered as he dropped a kiss to your temple, to your cheek, to your jaw, fingers lightly tracing the curve of your hip and up your waist, squeezing as you could just stand there and take it, focusing to breathe. “I’d be right there to watch.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Words Whispered in the Dark* (next in timeline) 

S.R.masterlist

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

…can engagement ring be considered a kink? Should I like… tag that?😄

If you went to read this knowing me for a while and didn’t expect it to have at least a little bit of fluff in it, you should know better by now 😘

Please, if you have something really harsh to say, don’t. You have no idea how much I was pep-talking myself into posting this rather than hiding it forever, because I feel like I need a bath in holy water every time I write/post smut. Though I’m kinda proud of the last lines of bonus 😄

Thank you for reading 💗

[nhinxsworld]

Hello, I really enjoyed your piece about Gojou's kinks in your masterlist! I was wondering if you write for male reader? Maybe a third year that Gojou likes to punish and degrade in praticular and be possessive over? (Sentimental Gojou?? He's been teaching him since his first year) Reader isn't weak or innocent but he lets Gojou treat him the way he does because he doesn't have anyone else in his life and Gojou has him wrapped around his little finger? Take it wherever you like, I'm sorry if this is too fucked up x

Is this what you wnated Im not sure!!! But i liked the request anyways 🥰 was little confused about what to do about male reader since I myself am not male! but it was fun to try i hope I did you justice on this :)

reader has Inumakis curse!!!

Gojo Satoru x male reader

my list uwu

warnings: manipulation ; non-con/dub-con(?) ; just slight degradation ; yeah im not good at this probably a couple uncomfortable stuff usage of slut etc.

Gojo Satoru loves all his students, he really does yet he still can't help himself but to pick favorites. They've all grown on him, but he can't seem to take his eyes of one specific student.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who Gojos favorites are, it's easy to tell his favorite is his beloved third year.

Picking you up since you're only fifteen, Gojo had a liking the way you just seemed to always search for his validation. For you it has always been Gojo, Gojo, Gojo.

He has his pretty boy, by a leash and he decides how long it is.

The soccerer hums happily when he sees you in the classroom all alone, stepping inside he closes the room, causing you to look up at him.

"(Y/n)~" he calls almost too sweetly and puts his hand on the table pushing whatever you've been doing out of the way.

The rattling of paper, is heard. Before the paper could even land on the floor. He pulled down your mask to reveal your curse pattern, gripping you by your jaw "(Y/n)" he repeats and you look at him, eyes staring at his blindfold where his would usually be, yet you couldn't help yourself but trail from his blindfold to his rosy lips.

Just staring at him not able to say a word.

"Am I not your favorite?" he asks and you just stare at him. Why was he asking that, of course he is your favorite. Who else could it be?

Not allowing you to give him any kind of answer, he presses his tumb to your lips pushing at your bottom lip until, you bought out your tongue to lick and suck at his finger, making him smile.

"Haha of course I am your favorite. Who else would indulge such a dirty boy like you?" he chuckles as he spits in your face making you close your eyes instinctively. "Surely not Yuuta. Yuuta didn't pick you up when you needed someone the most now did he?"

Opening your eyes you shoke your head as Gojo just watches his spit run down your cheek like tears before he whipes it out in your face, his fingers lingering over your curse marks.

"That's right Sensei did." he reminds you once again, that it was him that took you in. It's him who made you, who you are and he can take it all away if he desires.

The older tugs at your shirt "Take everything off."

Starring at him for a moment you unbuttoned your uniform, that Gojo had chosen for you. Like many other choices, Gojo did them all for you.

Stripping of the shirt, taking off the shoes, slipping of the pants, your reached for you boxers too, taking everything of for the man before you. You're just so willing to listen to everything he says.

Pushing you down against the table he hums looking at your exposed body, the room feeling a couple degrees too cold now fully exposed, yet some other parts of your body are burning.

His large hands presses against a bruise on your side watching whince in pain and he just smiles "You see (Y/n), I have nothing against Yuuta. I like him, he is a precious student just like you."

Tracing over the bruise from your training session with the other pupils Gojo just laughs "But I have an issue, if you're getting hurt because of Yuuta."

Fingers digging into your bruise, until he hears you whine "because you're mine, this body is mine and I don't like my property getting damaged."

His, his body, his property, those words seems to spiral in your mind. His, his his, it's something you wished for. You remember clearly, the day you ran to him needing his comfort, his guidance, his touch.

Another laugh escapes his lips as he stares you down "Did my pathetic boys cock just twitch from me digging into his wounds?"

His grip gets even harsher "Or is it because this wound is caused by Yuuta? It's because of me right?"

You didn't answer him, it's none of those two options right? He had made you strip down in classroom, you're just anticipating for something else right? You're not getting off to him hurting you like this right?

A smirk spreads across his face "This bruised is caused by Sensei yeah?" he traces over it slowly as it has taken an even darker colour than before and you looked at him with scared eyes.

You weren't sure when it took a turn into this direction, from wanting to be with him, needing him as figure to guide you through the dark, to now depending your whole existence on him.

"You look so exited." he smiles as he traces careful lines under your eyes "Did you miss me?" he presses against the bruise soflty just to remind me you again of the aching pain "You can't live without my touch can you?"

You're terrified to feel this way, even more terrified the way your cock twitches from feeling like this.

He gives you a look of pity "I've told you, you're mine." Knocking against your head with his finger knuckle "Your dumb brain hasn't understood yet hmm? But your body has, and it's so honest."

"Don't you like it when Sensei talks down on you?" he questioned as he cups your face "I'd call you my pretty boy, but that doesn't make your little cock hard now does it?"

"It only does when I call you a pathetic slut, who is needy of my attention." his voice growls and to your confusion your body does react to those words, supporting his statements.

His hand gripped your throat with an amused yet somewhat judgemental face, he squeezes your neck just tiny bit, until he can hear you choke "You like this too don't you? When I'm mean, when I hurt you?"

It's hard to deny, to shake your head, wanting to tell him no, when you can't speak and you're body giving a completely diffrent answer. A harsh slap to your face, has you feeling it in your lower area.

"Haha~" he smiles "Pitifully cute aren't you?"

"You love sensei so much don't you? Your body grew accustomed to Sensei touching you the way he likes it hmm?" he askes you questions for questions knowing well you couldn't protest against him.

"Remember when you used to whimper around so cutely? When I used to praise you?" the older beams, reminiscing of older times "Sensei is your first hmm? He took such good care of you didn't he?"

"Such good care of you and your body." Gojo hums, pinching and twisting your nipples until they're hard "I had fun."

"It's so honest just for me now." The soccerer sounds proud of himself, proud to have taken such a pure boys first with love and care, just to slowly drift of that road.

Binding you to him with promises and words of love.

You felt a lash like feeling on your body, caused by his infinity "stop..." you choked out and he tilts his head to the side "Stop? You know that doesn't work on me dummy."

"When has it ever?" he laughs as he traces over your curse marks once again "Besides why would you want me to stop?"

"You like being bruised and hurt by me, no?" he continued and you want refuse, tell him no, but all you're able to do is shake you're head at him until he decides to hold your face still forcing you to nod.

"Don't lie to me." he pulls down his blindfold to reveal the sky blue eyes you've fallen in love with "You wanted me to do this, don't you remember?"

"You're such a good boy. I love you so much (Y/n). You're so perfect, I promise I'll be gentle, just tap me when I need to stop okay?"

-

"(Y/n), can we try something? Ill take it slow."

The first time you tapped against his skin, asking him to stop, with tears running down your cheeks and he stops to kissi your marks "Don't worry baby, haha see I stopped." Yet you failed to notice his cock just growing harder in his pants from the way you're crying.

-

Cries and taps, rapid taps against his shoulders, that turned into slaps, you're voice breaking from telling him to stop, an activation of your curse until he halts, blood running down your lips, you failed to notice how your curse didn't effect him "Awww no don't cry, it's okay, it's okay. I won't hit you anymore, if you don't like it. I love you, you don't have to do these things, because I like them. Don't worry about me, I give you what you need. You don't seem to like the things I do, maybe we should stop here."

-

The older had stopped touching you from there on just smiling and waving when sees you, no hugs, no kisses, no praise, nothing comes from him after what had happened making you feel guilty. This is you're fault isn't it?

Gojo always indulged in yours needs, why couldn't you indulge in his.

So the next time you see him you stopped him in his tracks, taking his hands in yours, already felling special as he had let you through his infinity. Bringing his hand to your face, you slapped yourself, and if you could see his eyes widen underneath his mask.

"Hmm? What's that for little one?"

Tugging your neck piece down you looked at him "Hurt me. Love me."

"Remember??" he looks psychotic "you wished for me to do this, I'm indulging in your fantasy. You've placed this curse on yourself, you placed this curse on us."

Gojo never leaves himself unprotected from your curse speech.

The soccerer never lets himself be vulnerable, specially not such technique as yours that is just so easy to block out. You can scream and hurt your pretty throat all you want, he won't be having any of that.

Gojo wraps his hands around yours and bought it up to his cheek slapping himself "Hurt me. Love me"

"That's what you did. I had nothing to do with that." he chuckles "You did that all on your own. I didn't force you, you wanted to be mine and I made you mine. You have to hold responsibility you know?"

Bringing you down to your knees infront of him unzipping his own pants "Don't strain yourself, you don't have to to say anything. Sensei knows, he always knows best for you hmm?"

Pumping his own cock a couple times he forced it into your mouth "Now be good boy."

Hands gripping onto his tight as he just fucks your mouth to his content, just so he can hear you choke and see you cry.

He just can't help himself when his pretty boy looks so lewd sucking him off, like it's the only thing you're made for.

"Hmmm, fuck. Might as well just be my full-time cocksleeve, if you like getting bruised and hurt so much, I'll just have to do it." he chuckled as you felt another lash like feeling against your skin making you moan.

"Awww, such a painslut aren't you?" he smirks as he looks down on you to admire his mess, his hand in your hair forcing down more than you can take "Come on slut, you've done this often enough."

A groan escapes his lips as he pulls you off him allowing you to breath "stop, please...." your voice broken and hoarse and just smiles "Didn't I tell you already not to strain yourself? You're so funny trying to pull these things on me."

No matter what you say, no matter what you do with Gojo it has no use, until it's something he wants himself.

"Or are you just that much of a plain slut? Needing to damage yourself as much as possible?" he asks as you felt the cold sole of his shoes pressed against your cock.

"Pathetically cute." he beams when he sees you're all hard and leaking, just from the way he talks to you and the sole of his shoes pressing against your lenght.

"Oh sensei loves you so much." he grins as he places a stinging slap to your face that stings and burns "And I show it through the pain I cause, I know you need this."

[tcsauaskblog]

OH MAN I GUESS IT’S TIME NOW HUH???? THEN HERE WE GO KIDS

So Abner is one of the older cousins (about 7 years older than Fethry). He’s not much bigger or taller then other kids his age, but he’s built like a brick wall and stronger than he looks FOR SURE. He’s a rowdy kid, often getting into lighthearted trouble and roughhousing with other boys in the school yard, but all in all, he really is a good kid. 

He helps his dad out with the chores on his gran’s ranch without complaint, does the nitty gritty jobs so that his gran doesn’t have to, and isn't afraid to give his mom a hug and a kiss in front of the other school boys (even if they’ll make fun of him later for it, which he’ll then get into a tussle about, but more for the sake of principle than actually denying that he’s a momma’s boy and is embarrassed by her affection.) He really is, truly, a good kid. Just a bit rough around the edges is all.

He’s not good around kids though. He never really payed much attention to his younger cousins till they were old enough to actually hang around with. Donald was always a little too feisty and eager to prove himself, which Abner could respect, and he was fun to wrestle with once he was actually able to hold his own. Della talked a lot, but momma said that was just a girl thing, despite her being just as eager to wrestle and get down and dirty with the boys. Gladstone showed off too much, but sometimes his luck would get them free ice cream down at the shops on Sunday afternoons, so he wasn’t too annoying to hang out with. And it helped that Gus was around his age, and able to help him round up the little gang of hooligans when it got a little too much for Abner to deal with sometimes.

And then Fethry came around. 

And he was small. Smaller than the others had been, almost tiny in comparison, and Abner felt his heart flinch every time someone asked him to hold his baby brother. (Either for a family pic for granny or to help momma out sometimes when she was busy) 

It wasn’t like Abner didn’t like Fethry. He was a relatively easy baby. Hardly ever cried, compared to what Abner remembered of his cousins as babies, and usually was content just to be held and giggle. Abner just didn’t know what to DO with the kid. 

He was just. So. Little. little enough that one wrong move from Abner and his baby brother would break into a million pieces. Not to mention the kid was so adored by everyone around him and was the complete opposite of Abner in every way. Abner didn’t think he could stomach the idea of being the reason this little kid, who was all smiles and stars in his wide brown eyes, cried or got hurt.

So Abner did was any kid his age could do in his situation and just sort of,,, avoided Fethry. Not to be mean or difficult, but just to be safe. Just until Fethry was a little older, a little less breakable.

As the years went by though, it became harder and harder to break this avoiding game they were playing, despite Fethry’s BEST efforts. Because the kid LOVED his cool and distant older brother. He’d follow Abner everywhere he went, would try to copy some of Abner’s poorer choice habits (which horrified Abner to no end, thus furthering his efforts to keep away from Fethry so as not to taint the kid) And even though Fethry got older and wasn’t the baby he used to be, he somehow got even more fragile, even more precious before Abner’s eyes. The kid was as pure hearted as could be, while Abner, entering his early teen years, became more and more rambunctious with his shenanigans and got into a lot more trouble than he was probably worth. He became to hard to be near the kid, a shining beacon of everything good in the world, where Abner was bordering on the darker side of that shadow the beacon cast.

Abner didn’t really mean to get into as many arguments about his estrangement with his kid brother with his folks, mostly his dad. But it was hard to explain himself. Abner was a little too much like his father, where words were hard to come by and actions always did the job of conveying his thoughts anyway. His mother, a kind hearted and gentle spirit, was always able to see through his rough exterior and understand him perfectly, but even she was having difficultly understanding his hesitance to be around Fethry. Abner wished he could be a little bit more like Fethry, the spitting image of his mother’s kind soul, But alas, he was too much like Eider, and that made the two butt heads more often than not. 

It was Gladstone’s 7th birthday when the incident occurred. 

The party was being held at granny’s ranch, and it was a big family todo, (family events always were) and Abner was getting a little too smothered with all the constant chatter and loud music. He had only stepped away just to catch his breath, to be able to breathe a little easier without all the commotion. He had taken a walk down to the little pond at the bottom of the hill. 

He didn’t really like water all that much. He wasn’t a very good swimmer, and after the summer he broke into the movie theatre with some friends to see an R-rated horror film about a sea monster when he was 9, he’d never really been able to look at a body of water the same again. But he had half an egg sandwich he swiped from the buffet table in his hoodie jacket, and feeding the bluegills was always something that calmed him down, so standing on the little dock didn’t seem too scary.

Abner didn’t realize Fethry had followed him down to the pond. He should have. Of course he should have known the kid would. Fethry followed him everywhere, like a little duckling would. Abner should have realized Fethry would have trailed along right behind him.

But he didn’t. He was too stuck in his own head, trying to calm himself down from getting too overstimulated from the party. He didn’t realize Fethry was right behind him. 

He didn’t mean to jerk as hard as he did, when Fethry has reached out towards him, he really, honestly, didn’t. The kid had startled him, and Abner was acting on school yard protective reflexes faster than he could stop himself.

To this day he doesn’t really know if he actually pushed Fethry in or not. It hurts to think about. All he knows for sure is two things. 

That Fethry fell into the water.

And that Abner didn’t jump in to save him.

Someone did though, Donald a few seconds later. Where he had come from, Abner couldn’t bother to ponder about. Donald had always been a little too protective over Fethry, acting on those big brother instincts far better than Abner ever did. He must have followed after Fethry when he noticed the little 4 year old duckling toddle away from any adult eyes. He had jumped in the water immediately to save Fethry. 

Abner wasn’t even sure if the Donald could swim. It didn’t matter if he could though. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Abner didn’t jump in, regardless of whatever excuse he could come up with.

And he tried, for years. Abner spent countless hours trying to wrap his head around why he never jumped in. Why he couldn’t move. Why is heart felt like it broke the second Fethry’s signature, stupidly big hat, disappeared under the water. Why it didn’t feel better when both he and Donald broke the surface again, whole seconds later.

The coming days would be a blur after that. A hazy blur that Abner didn’t like thinking too hard about. 

The adults had come to the rescue a few minutes later, Gladstone and Della must have ran to get them after Donald had jumped into the water after Fethry. Fethry ended up ok, if not a little water logged and shaken, understandably. They had demanded to know what had happened.

And Abner couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even make eye contact. Just stared at his own feet, his hands clenching in his hoodie pockets hard enough to leave bruising as he willed the pain in his chest to go away. Donald had no such reservations, and told the story as he saw it. 

That Abner has pushed Fethry into the lake.

Abner couldn’t very well refute it, no matter how much he wanted to. He didn’t mean to push Fethry if he did, he didn’t mean to not jump in after him. He didn’t mean to hurt Fethry. He never did. Fethry was the last person on the earth that Abner wanted to hurt. But that didn’t change the fact that he did hurt Fethry, and that he didn’t do anything to change that.

He was sent away to a boarding school the following week. A school for lost and wayward boys. Boys who had caused so much havoc in their lives, that their parents didn’t know what to do with them or how to help them anymore. It was, for a lot of cases, a last ditch effort to save some reckless boys from causing any more damage to themselves and the people around them. Abner was one of those cases.

He didn’t want to go. Had begged and pleaded and fought tooth and nail not to go. Momma, the sweet soul that she was, didn’t seem like she wanted to send him away either. But Fethry had almost drowned, and neither of them could deny that Abner was the cause of it, and had said nothing to his defense against it. But Pa’s word was final, and Abner couldn’t do anything about it.

The school was strict, but it had never met a challenger quite like Abner Duck. Stubbornness was something tangible, flowing in his veins like the rest of the spitfire Duck traits he inherited, and Abner proved himself to be quite the problem child that everyone had always painted him out to be. 

It was about a year later, that Abner got the letter from his gran that his mother had fallen ill. She died the following spring. 

Abner felt out of sorts in his suit that didn’t fit him quite right as he stood in the spring rain at his mother’s grave spot. It was under the little oak tree on the hill overlooking gran’s ranch. The pond Fethry had almost drowned in was just a little bit away, in viewing distance at the bottom of the hill. Fethry was on the other side of his father. Abner felt bile creep up in his throat whenever Fethry would peek over at Abner with wide brown eyes that reminded Abner too much of their mother, and try to give him a smile. Abner tried not to hate him in that moment. It wasn’t Fethry’s fault. He was only 5. He didn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t realize the weight of momma’s death. Still didn’t really understand why Abner hadn’t been around the past few months, but still. There was a pit of anger burning itself into Abner’s stomach that he didn’t know what to do with.

He hadn’t seen his mother in almost a year, and now he’ll never get to see her. Never get to hold her hands or give her hugs or eat her brown sugar cookies that was the only thing she could bake without burning. The last memory he has of her alive is when she hugged him goodbye before the boarding school bus took him away. Abner was too upset and angry that he didn’t hug her back. If he had known that was going to be his last moments of her, he would have turned around in his bus seat, to at least see her wave him off, with little Fethry, not understanding the situation at all, waving good bye too.

Abner was incredibly heartbroken, but more than that, he was furious. Furious that his father had sent him away in the first place. Away from his mother, the only person who really saw him for his worth. They had gotten into another fight that night, screaming at each other so loudly that they neighbors dogs, a whole acre away, could hear them and started barking in turn. Abner doesn’t remember a whole lot of the fight. Just that they were both raw from grief and heartbreak, and that Abner knew, that without his mom, he couldn’t stay in that house. Not with a dad who was a little too much like him, and a baby brother who couldn’t have been more different. Abner left for the school again the next morning. He hated being in the school, but it was the only place that was familiar enough to return to, without feeling like it was a home. 

Abner got the news that his father died half a year later. Abner didn’t bother going to the funeral, no matter how devastated he was about the news. The only person left from their broken little family, the only person who would, undoubtedly, be waiting for him, was Fethry. And Abner couldn’t see him. Not now. He didn’t know when, but certainly not now. Not after everything that had happened between them.

Abner decided it was best to keep the distance between himself and Fethry. Nothing good came from them being near each other, and this way, Abner knew that at the very least, Fethry would be safer without him around. Fethry had granny to take care of him, and Donald and Della and Gladstone to keep him company. He didn’t need Abner.

Fethry would be better off without him.

[weasleydream]

A story of love, pain and shitty parents - part 4

The fourth part is finally here, I’m sorry it’s been so long!

To be honest, I’m really disappointed with this chapter, I feel like I haven’t been able to write down what I really wanted to transmit. It was a really important part for me and no matter how bad I think it is, I won’t be able to do better, I’ve made it too personal for that sooo I still hope it’s okay!

As usual feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist 

The first of September was near and it looked like all the students had begged their parents for one last trip at what had become their favourite place in the world. To be fair, Weasley Wizard Wheezes was a beautiful shop, and it looked even more alive now that most of the other shops in Diagon Alley had disappeared. 

“I don’t understand why your name isn’t on the storefront.” Mrs Hoggs, an old lady who couldn’t refuse her grandson any visit here, was looking for a few Sickles in her bag. “I mean, you’ve helped with this shop, right? You should have your part of recognition, that’s all I’m saying.” she added without letting me a second to reply. 

Her eyes fell on the picture that was hanging on the wall right behind me. It had been taken on the inauguration of the shop, and I was squeezed between Fred and George in front of the dream of a life. If Mrs Hoggs was particularly obsessed by the fact that I “didn’t have enough recognition”, she wasn’t the only one wondering why I seemed to be “left on the sidelines”. That was so annoying that even her grandson sighed. 

“Aren’t you bothered? If you want my opinion…” Mrs Hoggs kept babbling. She was so passionate by her one-sided debate that I exchanged an exasperated look with her grandson. “Oh, Mr Weasley!” she suddenly exclaimed at the very moment Fred’s arm wrapped around me. “I was talking about-”

“I know, Mrs Hoggs, I’ve heard that same speech a few times already.”

Fred smiled kindly, and I once more wondered how he would stay so calm in all circumstances. 

“And we don’t need to change the shop’s name for the very good reason that one day, Y/N will be a Weasley too.” 

Fred left with a broad smile on his lips, leaving me alone with a flabbergasted Mrs Hoggs and my shaky legs. Suddenly, my heart was beating harder than ever and I could have sworn my cheeks had never been that red. 

“Can I have my pygmy puff now?”

_ _ _ 

I found Fred lying on the couch, his eyes closed and an arm thrown on his face. Thinking he was sleeping, I silently grabbed the brush I had left on the table and detangled my hair, which were still wet from the hot shower I had just taken. I headed to Fred with the intention to wake him up, but his steady breath and his peaceful attitude made me stop. It was more and more rare that Fred was calm, and no matter how hard they tried to hide it, I knew that both he and his twin were worried sick. About the war, obviously, but I was willing to bet that they were also scared for me. Without realizing it, I had sat just in front of him and modeled my breathing after his. 

“Are you going to watch me like this for long?” Even though his voice was quiet, I jumped and looked away, slightly embarrassed. “Hey, love, come here.”

Fred opened his arms and I curled up against him like a cat. He embraced me and pulled me against his torso as hard as he could without hurting me, and at the moment I wanted nothing but being closer to him. But instead, I murmured in his ear, scared my voice would either show how overwhelmed I was or how desperate. 

“Did you mean it? What you said at the shop, did you really mean it?”

Fred shivered, and a part of my brain realized it was the effect of my voice. 

“Of course I meant it. I love you Y/N, and I think Y/N Weasley sounds more than good.”

I wanted to say so many things, that I loved him too, more than anything else in this world or every other world, that I wanted to be his for the rest of my life, I wanted to find a good joke to avoid expressing my deepest feelings, but I found myself unable to do that. Instead, I smiled, broadly, and I kissed him. 

“Fred, Y/N, are you- Merlin, not again!”

Fred groaned and let go of me, and I got up to face George’s amused look. 

“Don’t you think it’s time for you to find an apartment of your own? I mean, as much as I tolerate you, always walking in on you snogging is getting annoying.”

George was smirking, but in fact, the three of us knew what the situation was. The war was imminent, the terror had taken an important place in our lives and the only future we could see was uncertainty. No matter what he would say, George didn’t want to let us go, nor did Fred and I want to leave. That’s also why talking about a wedding was so strange for me. For all that we knew, we could be all dead within the next month. 

“Is there a reason why you interrupted us?” suddenly asked Fred to break the uncomfortable silence. 

“Actually, yes. Mum is going to kill us if we aren’t at the Burrow in an hour. You know how obsessed she’s been with Harry’s birthday.”

_ _ _ 

Once again, everything happened without me understanding anything. One second, Bill and Fleur’s guests were dancing and laughing, and for the first time in what felt like years I was genuinely smiling and enjoying a dance with Fred, and the second after everything was chaos and everyone was screaming. I didn’t know where George was, and I didn’t have any other choice than to assume he was alright. Fred jumped aside when a green flash of light flew toward him, grabbing my waist before falling on the ground. 

“Leave!” he screamed, gesturing toward the Burrow. 

I shook my head and pushed him out of another flash of light’s way. 

“Y/N, please, I need you to leave!”

To be honest, I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe it was something in Fred’s eyes; this pure terror that made them look almost black, or maybe it was because of the crack of his voice as he was begging me to leave. Maybe it was something else, an instinct that was murmuring that I had something else to do. I didn’t know, but I eventually nodded and gave my back to Fred. By now, a lot of guests had disappeared and I found a way to leave the tent quite easily - without paying attention to the Death Eaters trying to kill everyone, of course. 

And suddenly, I understood. I understood why something had made me leave Fred alone in the danger, I understood why my instinct prevented me from apparating away from the carnage. 

First, it took the form of a reflect, light and almost insignificant, a little golden spot in the darkness. I fixed it, and slowly, the shape of a person appeared. The silhouette was darker than black, and I knew the man’s soul was ten times worse. 

I had thought my hatred would get over my self control. I had spent so much time hating him, promising myself the most terrible of revenges, I had sworn he would die because of what he had done to Fred, and I had imagined this moment a thousand times. But I hadn’t imagined I would walk calmly toward him, toward the man who had tortured me and killed the first person who had ever loved me. I could have never imagined it, yet I was walking toward my father, almost a year and a half after the last time I had been in his presence. 

“I’m surprised.” he spoke up, and I shivered. Too many memories were flooding in my mind, things I had tried so hard to forget. “I thought you would have tried to kill me.”

The acid line I wanted to throw at his face stayed blocked in my throat, and all of sudden I found myself on the verge of crying. I didn’t know why, but I was feeling like I was a little girl again, trying to hold back her tears as her father was walking slowly toward her, a glass of whisky in one hand and a cane in the other. My eyes fell on what had produced the golden light, and I gasped when my necklace shone. Slowly, I lifted my hand, reproducing a gesture I had done a thousand times, except that this time my fingers found nothing.

“I wanted to talk to you.” he said, his voice calm as if he had never done anything to me. As if he had never tortured me. “I wanted to explain.”

He took a step forward and I took three backwards. My breathing was shaky, along with my legs and the rest of my body. For a few seconds, all I could see was the light hitting me, the chimney masked by a veil of tears, Mary bathed in a green light, and then my father’s figure, more terrifying than ever, and too close for my own good. 

“I want to explain why I will destroy everything you ever cared for.”

A hundred of Cruciatus curses would have been less painful than imagining him killing Fred, George, Molly, Arthur and all of those I had ever loved. My hands were shaking and only now did I notice I didn’t have my wand. 

He took a step, and I found myself unable to move. 

“I want you to know why I’ll make you suffer like I suffered.”

Everything else seemed to have disappeared. There was only him in front of me, and the weight of the promise he was making, a weight so heavy that I was suffocating and weakening more and more. 

“You killed the love of my life. I will kill you for that.”

He took another step, and my knees gave up on me. I fell on the ground and cowered, my eyes closed and the sound of my sobs hiding the other sounds. I didn’t see him, but I felt him kneeling in front of me. I desperately tried to regain control, I tried to remember Fred’s blood, Mary’s body, my own pain, but my brain was dizzy and I was unable to move. 

“But  won’t kill you now.” he whispered in my ear. “It would be too easy, don’t you think? I want you to be scared. I want you to wonder when I’ll come back for you. I want you to stop living, I want you to be scared of dying.” 

And, still unable to move, still paralyzed by his hold on me, I bit my lips to stop a scream when his fingers touched my skin, putting the necklace back around my neck. 

“You look like her.” he declared with a quiet voice, the one that had always scared me the most. “You look like your mother.”

“Don’t talk about her.”

It was the first thing I managed to say, the words escaping my mouth despite the lump in my throat. As soon as they echoed in the night, I looked down and tensed, subconsciously waiting for a punishment. It was an old habit, and I doubted I would ever be able to get rid of it. 

“You killed her.” I added, feeling barely braver when he said nothing. 

He laughed with a terrible laugh, maniacal and without an ounce of joy. Only pure insanity. 

“No, you killed her. The Dark Mark killed her. Mary killed her. But me? I just loved her. And you killed her. We were perfect together, and you came between us. You got rid of her, I get rid of you. This is a good deal.”

It felt like I was another person when I noticed I was shaking. I could imagine the way my lips were trembling, the way my hands were hidden in the folds of my dress, and the way my eyes were full of tears. 

“I don’t understand…” I cried out, unable to do anything else than to express how broken I was and to despise myself for being so pathetic. “Mary- Mary was her friend and- you were the one who forbade her… I don’t understand… Please leave me alone, I don’t want to-”

“Oh no! No no no no no!” my father gave his back to me, taking a few steps forwards before turning again and throwing his arms to the sky. “Mary never listened to me! She never listened! She hated your mother, she let her die!” and he laughed, a laughter without life or joy, only insanity. His mouth was twisted in a strange way as if he was going to cry at the same time. “Mary killed her, the Dark Mark killed her, and you killed her.” 

Suddenly, he was dead serious again, the only sign showing any disturbance being the compulsive clenching of his fists. I almost crawled backwards, my eyes never leaving the hand that was holding his wand. 

“Looks like the fun is over. See you soon, Y/N.”

And he disappeared, leaving me alone and shaking on the grass, his silhouette burned in my retina for what I believed was forever. Only now did I realize how hard my heart was beating. It was pounding against my ribcage like a desperate animal trying to escape. I would have done anything to escape too, because my whole body seemed to have become a jail which role was to keep me ready for whenever my father would show up. 

Around me, everything was silent. Too silent, like the calm after the storm. As my brain was getting less clouded, I remembered what had happened before the moment I had ended up in front of my father. For a second, I wondered why the Death Eaters were so silent, then I understood they were gone. I only reacted when voices screamed my name. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N, where are you?”

I walked away, an unpleasant impression of being watched making me shiver. When I reached the first silhouette I had seen, the whole discussion with my father had begun to sink in me, and thousands of questions were invading my head. 

“Y/N?”

George took a few steps toward me, approaching slowly and talking with a small voice, as if he was in front of a wounded animal. Maybe he wasn’t wrong, maybe I was really a wounded animal, fragile and desperate to defend herself until her death which was obviously close. 

Thinking about my death made something crack in me; a wall I had struggled to build and that was supposed to protect me. When the wall completely broke, it stopped containing everything I had kept hidden for years. Every pain, every tear, every scream, it all came back to me with such a vigour that I fell back on my knees and I screamed. 

_ _ _ 

Without a word, Molly handed me a cup of tea in which she had added some firewhiskey. I was squeezed on the couch between Fred and George, still trembling even though sweat was covering my forehead. I didn’t even notice the few drops that fell on my dress when I lifted the cup, nor did I notice Fred’s arm around me. I didn’t see the concerned look exchanged between Arthur and Molly either, all of that because I was lost in my thoughts. My father had said so many things, but all of this couldn’t be true, right? 

“Your necklace,” murmured Fred. “Did he give it back to you?”

I promptly yanked it out with the very strong feeling that it had left a burn on my skin. My eyes fell on my closed fist in which I was clenching and something, an image, came back from the depths of my memory. Something that looked like a book under George’s arm as he was looking for the place where he had hidden Fred. A book I had never seen afterwards, because I had refused in the first place and then because I had forgotten it. A book that had to be pretty important for George to take him with him in the emergency. 

“The book.” I murmured. Fred shifted, Molly looked away. Something was wrong. “You still have it, right? I want to read it.”

“There’s nothing important in this book.” said George, his voice a bit too low for him to be honest. 

I looked at Fred, and he turned his head a bit too late. I had seen his eyes fixed on my fist.

“Fred, tell me.” 

He looked up, and his worried eyes met mine. He bit his lips before slowly taking my hands, looking quickly at George and Arthur before eventually sighing. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve hidden that to you, love. I thought- I thought you wouldn’t want to know it. The book was a sort of journal. It was written by your mother. She…”

My heart was pounding, it was the only thing I could hear besides Fred’s voice. 

“She was a Death Eater too. That’s why she was alone... That’s why she’s dead.”

The Dark Mark killed her. 

Tags: @pregnant-piggy​ @la3divine​

[jarienn972]

La Sirena - Chapter Eight

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

We’re nearing the completion of this @cssns​ tale, and despite the challenges this story has posed, I’m a little bit sad that it is nearly finished. 

This chapter has a lot of action as we pick up right where we left off with Regina’s nefarious plan to “test” Killian’s worthiness. Our poor lieutenant has no idea what the devious siren has in mind and it isn’t going to be pleasant.

Thank you, @kmomof4​ for all of your beta assistance, especially with your suggestions for this chapter! And thanks again to @courtorderedcake​ for her beautiful artwork!

Catch up from the beginning on AO3 or FF.net  Tumblr chapters:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven 

“Retribution”

No amount of naval training could have prepared him for this, Killian thought as he inexplicably found himself standing barefoot on the shore. One moment he'd been crouching inside the cavern awaiting Emma's return and the next, he was facing down the tempestuous ocean, thoroughly exposed. His knuckles had gone white clutching desperately to the cutlass, but as he stared out at the sea, he knew in his heart that the weapon was no match for this unnatural battle.

Above the whitecaps in the distance, he could just make out the crest of Emma's head and that of another person with darker hair coiffed beneath some sort of massive, glistening crown. Was this the mysterious sister that Emma had spoken of? He couldn't make out anything they were saying over the roar of waves crashing against the rock. But it was the dichotomy of their expressions that sent a shiver down his spine. He didn't even dare hypothesize the meaning behind the look of abject horror that spread across Emma's delicate features.

Shivers washed over him and his gut filled with apprehension when his gaze was drawn to movement on the horizon. Could this be signalling the arrival of the siren council that had Emma so concerned? The surface of the water seemed to rise, bubbling and foaming in the most unearthly manner. It was like nothing he had ever seen in all his years at sea and in a mere moment, he was about to wish it could be unseen.

As a mariner, he'd often heard tales of encounters with the legendary kraken and he'd shrugged them off as nothing but fantasy. Perhaps he'd been too quick to judge legend from truth, he found himself thinking as he marveled at the sheer size of the tentacle that emerged from the depths. It was simply beyond belief. From his experience with squid and octopi snared in fishing nets, Killian suspected that this creature would have to be supernaturally large, and that thought was confirmed as it reared its humongous head above the bay.

Even if he hadn't been practically paralyzed with shock and trepidation, he never would have had a chance to outrun the beast's speed or reach as another of its incredibly strong tentacles snatched him off of the beach. The slimy appendage constricted around his upper body, lifting him into the air and pinning his arms to his sides as it threatened to crush him.

First pirates, then sirens, and now he was eye to eye with a bloody kraken… All of them apparently competing to see who would kill him first…

Grimacing in pain, he struggled against its grasp and cried out to Emma for help. He may have been at the mercy of these mythical beings, but his own survival instincts remained fully intact. He wiggled his right arm free enough to draw the cutlass from its sheath. He didn't exactly have full range to properly wield his weapon, but he managed to secure an angle that allowed him to thrust the blade into one of the circular suckers on the underside of the tentacle encircling him. The monster howled and retaliated by lashing Killian into the waves, stunning the sailor as it increased the pressure on his body and dislodging the sword. The blade dropped into the ocean below while a barely conscious Killian could both feel and hear his ribs cracking under the assault.

Emma could only watch in a panic as the kraken scooped Killian off the shore with its tentacles wound tightly around him. She tried in vain to repel the monstrosity with her magic, but her barrage of light energy blasts had little to no effect on the creature.

"Your magic isn't strong enough to deter a kraken," an amused Regina insisted.

"Call it off, Regina!" Emma shouted angrily as the monster's tentacle squeezed ever tighter around Killian's very mortal body. She could hardly bear to see the agony expressed by his features. "This isn't the way! The beast is going to kill him!"

"He was on borrowed time already, sister," Regina reminded her sternly. "But if this pitiful human is as worthy as you claim he is, he certainly should be capable of defeating a kraken - shouldn't he?" She chuckled giddily as Emma's gaze focused on her weak little human, completely aghast by the impending carnage.

"I do not know what you and lord Triton conspired upon, but this is a repulsive abuse of power!" Emma admonished her sister while whipping around in the water to confront the rest of the council when they surfaced to take in the spectacle. "Why can none of you understand that he survived because he did not hear the song? Are you all complicit in this? Serving him up as hapless prey to a kraken is hardly the task our kind was given! Do you think this is what the great Poseidon intended? We were created to sing and only to sing! Any further judgement belongs to the gods, not to the sirens!"

There were a few nods and murmurs from the council but despite Emma's fervent pleas, none of the members seemed to be willing to challenge Regina.

"Cowards…," Emma hissed as she returned her attention to her sister. "I don't know what power you wield over the council, Regina, but I believe that even they know this is wrong. If you want to challenge him, do it with your voice, not with Triton's oversized toy…"

"But this way is so much more fun," Regina smirked and that was what finally pushed Emma over the edge. With a flip of her muscular tail, Emma lunged at Regina, shoving her tentacled sibling beneath the surface and yanking the coral and shell studded crown from atop Regina's head. "Why you insolent little bitch!" Regina cried out as Emma flung the headdress aside. "You've always been a poor excuse for a siren and now you're proving that by all of this fervor to save your human pet!"

Regina flicked two of her tentacles toward Emma who defensively batted them away with her arms and tail fin. The skirmish sent many members of the council scrambling to get out of the way.

"Why are you doing this?" Emma demanded with a brisk swish of her tail that lifted her out of Regina's reach for the moment. "This has never been our way… Please - call off that kraken!"

"You have been away too long. You've gone soft," Regina scolded. "You're practically fawning over a human. How deranged can you possibly be? Have you forgotten what it is to be a siren or are those powers wasted on you?"

"The only deranged one here is you! I know I did the right thing no matter what you believe. Maybe I did go soft but if his life was spared from the siren call, he deserves to live…" Emma couldn't stop her voice from cracking as she continued to plead for Killian's survival. How had this man managed to affect her so greatly in such a short amount of time? Why did she care so much? Compassion wasn't an emotion that sirens were supposed to have…

"No human is worthy to pass through this realm. That was the edict of Poseidon himself," Regina sneered, raising her right arm above the water's surface as she prepared to unleash her magic on the helpless human who'd gone limp in the kraken's grip.

"PERHAPS I SHOULD BE THE JUDGE OF THAT," a booming voice sounded above the bay, silencing all, including the roaring sea beast.

A glistening trident with tines that blazed as brilliantly as lightning bolts broke through the waves. Emma immediately bowed her head even before the god's visage appeared and her action was followed by the siren council members who'd remained. Even Regina demurely lowered her head at the sight of Poseidon's face, but no amount of posturing would spare her from his ire. With a scant raise of his trident, the seas instantly grew calm and the kraken, still clinging to its human prey, was now frozen in time.

"Enough distractions," Poseidon said as his attention fell to the combative sirens. "The creatures living in this bay alerted me to all of this… whatever this is. What in the name of Olympus is going on here?"

"Mighty Poseidon," Regina began as she slowly lifted her chin to gaze upon the god of the sea. Her eyes darted back to the sea at the sight of his deep-set scowl. "We were just trying to complete some unfinished business, but there has been some disagreement over doing what needs to be done."

Poseidon shook his head in disdain as he glowered at the brunette siren. "This is a disagreement?" he queried as he nonchalantly pushed his glimmering three pointed crown back into position atop his pure white hair, echoing Regina's earlier behavior. "I think this is a ruckus and I would like to know how a council of sirens got themselves into such a bizarre situation. I don't recall krakens being a part of the siren song."

Regina's cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger. How dare Emma and her human put her in this position? "My apologies. Had Erimetha not abandoned our code and rescued a human, we wouldn't be here. The kraken was merely a suggestion from your brother, Triton, as a means to expedite the process."

"Was it now?" Poseidon quipped sarcastically before his scrutiny passed to Emma who, to this point, had remained reverent, silently treading water as she awaited the inevitable wrath of the god. "I'll need to have a stern conversation with my brother about his suggestion, but Erimetha - pardon me, I forgot that you prefer to be called Emma - is what Regina says true? Did you rescue a human from a doomed ship?"

Emma managed a weak smile over the fact that Poseidon had remembered her preferred name and even corrected himself. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't being viewed as the villain here.

"Regina's words are partially true. The man had already survived the siren song. He never heard them sing. All I did was prevent him from rolling off of his makeshift raft," Emma replied as she dared raise her head to face Poseidon.

"What possessed you to do such a thing?" Poseidon asked with a raised brow, intently listening for her response.

Emma had to pause for a moment, trying to best form her words, but the best she could come up with was: "My instincts told me I should."

"I see…" The god of the seas scratched idly at his beard as he contemplated Emma's answer - one that Regina clearly didn't believe to be good enough.

"She admits she helped the human," Regina rehashed her opinion, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly as she awaited the god's agreement.

Giving no audience to Regina, Poseidon continued his interrogation of Emma as only the outcast siren's first-hand account was going to answer the questions he wanted answered.

"You claim the human did not perish during the siren encounter because he didn't hear their song. What led you to that conclusion, Emma?"

"As he was recovering from his injuries sustained at the hand of the pirates who had abducted him and during his escape from the sinking ship, we conversed a few times. He believed the ship's crew had abandoned their vessel after striking the rocks and left him behind. It wasn't until after Regina came to my cove the first time in search of a survivor that he learned the truth about the siren attack, but he didn't recall hearing any music before the ship began to go down. It was my belief that he might possibly have been deaf to the song so I tested the theory by singing to him and he never heard me. He never fell victim to the trance. Does that not make him worthy to live?"

Poseidon pursed his lips and rubbed his whiskered chin as he pondered his next query but grew irritated by Regina's refusal to be silent when she interrupted his thoughts.

"This doesn't prove anything," Regina interjected, only to be immediately shushed by the god.

"Regina - my questions are for Emma at this time. It would be in your best interest to remain quiet until I address you," he warned sternly. "When I have a question for you, I shall ask. Do you understand?"

An embarrassed Regina nodded and gave a sheepish "Yes, your majesty." before floating further back from him.

"Emma, what do you know of the history of the sirens?" Poseidon inquired.

She was caught off-guard by the unusual question, but she did her best to surmise the history she knew. "Centuries ago, the gods lived in peace with humans, but a time came when the humans no longer showed reverence to the gods. As the human realm grew in size and they began to traverse the globe, you and Triton established this part of the mighty oceans as your sacred realm. We sirens were created to guard entrance into the realm as our song was supposed to determine whether a human was worthy to pass.

"Over many generations, only one human proved to be worthy - although the precise means of how his worth was determined remain unclear. Anyway, this human gained your favor and in time, was granted permission to marry your daughter, Ursula. Their civilization then flourished for many years, until the same insolence led to the destruction of that advanced civilization.

"Humans were once again regarded as evil, and while there are many tales of your descendants being spared, no one but you, your majesty, knows the veracity of that. All I know for certain is that even long before I isolated myself away from the sirens, no human ever traversed this realm successfully. All of them perished - until Killian came along. I do not know what criteria you intended us to use to judge men such as him, but he isn't evil. If he was able to make it off of that ship alive, does that not mean he was worthy of passage?"

Poseidon raised a brow at the thoroughness of her reply. He'd known for quite some time that Emma was unique amongst her kind, but he'd not expected to find such an underlying passion for life within a being who'd been created to kill.

"You are very much correct, Emma," he said at last, leaving a disgruntled Regina aghast.

"But Lord Poseidon, she defied the siren code by interfering!" Regina insisted and she was met with a harsh rebuttal.

"Regina, my instruction was for you to remain silent until you were addressed, but you seem to have difficulty following such a simple directive," he admonished the unruly siren. "You and the council are dismissed!" Lifting his trident, he aimed it at the frozen kraken, divesting it of its human prey. In a flash, an unconscious Killian Jones was removed from the creature's grasp to reappear safely upon the sandy shore. He waved off the layer of imposing clouds that shrouded the skies, allowing the sunlight to bathe the cove once again. The kraken reared to life as Poseidon's spell wore off, but the god quickly neutered its wrath. "And since you summoned it, you can return that blasted beast to my brother on your way home to your end of the island! Once I have completed cleaning up the mess you have made here, you will stand before me to answer for this abuse of your powers! Even with the most convincing apology, you may find yourself relieved of those powers."

Regina's lips parted to complain but wisely, not a single whimper escaped as she turned away from the intensity of his glare. Glancing around the bay, she could see that not a single council member had stayed behind to see her humiliation, so perhaps she could count that as a single victory. It was still her belief that she'd done no wrong, but for now, it was far better to lick her wounds and depart than further provoke the wrath of a god who had just publicly castigated her in front of her rival.

Visibly shaken, Regina gave one last little flutter of her wrist to vanquish the kraken, scowling eyes locked on Emma the entire time. Despite her fallen crown being forgotten and abandoned to the sea floor, she held her chin up audaciously before slipping beneath the waves with the knowledge that this may have been her last act as a siren.

[deuling-sabers]

Force Artifacts and Missteps

Summary: Obi-Wan walks up on a battlefield with a Youngling in front of him wailing and men in white armour yelling at him to get down. The problem? Or one of many? Obi-Wan is a fourteen year old Padawan.

Author’s Note: I have been working on this for a while and yesterday, I looked at the 190 word fic that I had been abandoned and wrote 3235 more words in 24 hours XD. So, I really hope that you all like this.

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

The Togrutan youngling wouldn't stop crying.

Obi-Wan had tried everything he could to try and get the baby to calm down but absolutely nothing that he had tried so far had gotten her to calm down. He had given her the little water they had access to, wrapped her up in their ratty blanket, and even tried singing the lullaby that Obi-Wan remembered his Creche Master singing to him when he was the Togrutan's age. And still, the youngling kept crying. Not that Obi-Wan could really blame her. With the state that the Force was currently in, Obi-Wan really wanted to cry too.

"Shhh," Obi-Wan whispered, bouncing her a little. He was sitting on the small cot in their cell with the youngling curled against his chest, just below the collar around his neck that allowed him to feel the Force but not touch it. His head was aching and the emptiness that echoed in his mind made Obi-Wan want to start wailing himself. His training bond with Qui-Gon was gone and. . . and Obi-Wan didn't want to think about what that might mean. He really, really didn't. "Shhh, you have to be quiet, Youngling, you have to be." 

After a long, tense minute of more wailing, the Togrutan's tears slowly died down to sniffles, staring at Obi-Wan with large watery blue eyes. Obi-Wan smiled back, so relieved that the tears had stopped. "See," he said gently, wiping away a stray tear. "Everything is perfectly alright. My Master. . . My Master," he let out a shaky breath, remembering that his Master could very well be dead right now. "A Jedi will come to find us," he said instead, holding the Togrutan baby close. "I promise that they will, Youngling. They'll hear what happened and will come to find us." 

Though, Obi-Wan secretly wondered if they really would. He barely knew what had happened. One moment he had been on a Political mission with Qui-Gon and the next moment he was standing dumbly in the middle of a war ground with men in white armour screaming for him to get down while a Togrutan baby wailed on the ground with a Lightsaber laid in her lap. Obi-Wan had reacted on instinct, grabbing the Youngling and both of their Lightsabers, running far away from the battlegrounds. The Force had been screaming at him that something was wrong and to run, run away. The Force had been screaming at him almost as loud as the Force Wielder that had ran after him that felt like he was standing on the edge of a coin, on the edge of the two sides of the Force. It had made Obi-Wan run faster.

And, almost immediately, they had been surrounded by droids and Obi-Wan had had no choice but to hand over the two Lightsabers and come quietly. He had been shoved into a small cell with a crying Youngling and no protection against the screaming Force. And Obi-Wan had no idea what he was going to do. He was fourteen and as much as he had tried to let the feeling go, he was scared. He was so scared. He wanted to go back to the Temple, back to his Master and his friends. He wanted the Force to stop crying.

And suddenly, it did. Or, at least, Obi-Wan couldn't feel it as strongly because he was suddenly surrounded by such a familiar presence that he couldn't stop himself from jolting up. Hesitate hope rose in him. It wasn't the Jedi that Obi-Wan was wishing for but it was one that he knew and trusted.

"What in the name of Force is going on here," Dooku said lowly as he marched into the hall that Obi-Wan's cell was located. The two droids guarding it straightened but had no time to do anything, let alone raise their weapons, before Dooku had flicked his fingers and they had gone flying out of Obi-Wan's sight. "My GrandPadawan dropped into the middle of a battle that he had no business in and then leaving him in a cell with a Youngling. Really."

"Master Dooku," Obi-Wan gasped, scrambling to his feet and rushing to the cell door. He paused though, staring at Dooku with wide eyes. He felt. . . different. Like everything had felt since Obi-Wan had been dropped in the middle of that battle, the old Jedi felt darker. Not dark, not like Xanatos had felt. But darker. And the yellow eyes that stared back at him just confirmed that. "Master Dooku," he whispered, not taking another step closer. 

Dooku stared at him, his yellow eyes softening. "Obi-Wan. While it's good to see you, I apologize that it happened again like this. I told them to not touch that Force Damned artifact. But, what done is done." He flicked his fingers again and the cell door opened. "Walk with me."

". . . I don't think I want to," Obi-Wan said softly, taking a step back and holding the Youngling close to his chest. "I. . . I-"

"You have questions," Dooku said, cutting Obi-Wan off, arching an eyebrow. "And you'll get your answers. But do you really think that I'll give them to you here? No. We'll be going to my office where a plate of food waits for you and a bottle of Togruta milk is waiting for young Ahsoka. You come upstairs, listen to my explanation of what is happening, and then you'll use that brain that my former Master always brags about and make a decision on what to do next. Understand?"

At the mention of food, Obi-Wan's stomach growled loudly. How long had it been since he had eaten? How long had it been since the Youngling . . . Ahsoka had eaten? "You know her name," Obi-Wan asked softly, stepping forward cautiously. He swallowed, forcing himself to look Dooku in the eyes. "Did your Droids put us in these cells, Master Dooku?"

"Yes, and against my orders too," Dooku said dryly, impatiently gesturing Obi-Wan to follow who did so reluctantly. He had to move quickly to keep up with the. . . with the man who didn't feel like a Jedi anymore. "I told them to bring you to suitable rooms until I could come to see you. And her," he said, adding it on almost as an afterthought. "And instead, I come back from smoothing over problems that Skywalker had been causing since I took you into my custody and find you shoved in a dark little cell with a crying youngling." He sneered slightly. "I long for the days where I worked with people and droids with an ounce of wit."

Obi-Wan didn't know what to say to that, holding Ahsoka closely as he hurried after Dooku. He relaxed slightly as they walked through a door and entered a small, warm room with a desk and two chairs in front of it. There were no windows and the vents were small enough that Obi-Wan doubted that even he would be able to squeeze through them. And sitting on the desk was a plate full of Obi-Wan's favourite dish, an old Stewjoni recipe, and a large baby bottle full of milk.

"Give her to me," Dooku said, holding out his arms. He arched an eyebrow when Obi-Wan hesitated. "Do you think that I'm going to harm her, Obi-Wan? Someone needs to feed her while you eat. Or do you plan to let your dinner go cold?" 

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, not answering Dooku's questions as he stared into Dooku's yellow eyes. ". . . I don't know, Master," he finally said softly. "Normally I'd say no, you'd never hurt a youngling. But everything is different. The Force is screaming and you. . . you don't follow the Light anymore."

". . . No. I don't. But that doesn't mean that I've abandoned my moral code," Dooku said cooly, crouching down so that he was on Obi-Wan's level. "I swear to you, Obi-Wan, on my honour, I will not harm young Ahsoka."

There was a long moment where Obi-Wan said nothing before he slowly passed Ahsoka over to Dooku. The Togruta fussed a little but stilled as Dooku straightened, staring up at the man with large blue eyes. Obi-Wan watched him closely as he picked up the bottle and Ahsoka eagerly began drinking from it. "Sit," Dooku said suddenly, making Obi-Wan jump. "Eat. I have a long tale to tell you and it's better that you hear it on a full stomach."

Obi-Wan reluctantly sat down in one of the chairs, watching Dooku closely as he walked around the desk and sat across from him. He picked up his fork but didn't start to eat "You mentioned someone named Skywalker," he said softly, sitting back in his chair. He sighed as Dooku didn't answer, looking between Obi-Wan and his plate of food pointedly. Obi-Wan pulled his plate closer to him and started to eat the food, subconsciously relaxing at the taste of food that reminded him of home.  

"You'll have to forgive me if I talk for a long time. It's been quite a long time since I've talked to a willing party that wasn't an idiot or a machine," he said cooly, glancing to the door where through it, Obi-Wan could hear the distant sounds of Droids marching through the halls. "And it is a very long story." Dooku sighed, sounding so tired and weary that it took Obi-Wan by surprise. What had happened that had made Dooku sound so tired? "First of all, I'm impressed that you managed to stay conscious all this time with that training bond of yours and Qui-Gon's torn out of your mind."

Obi-Wan faltered, his fork stopping halfway to his mouth. He slowly lowered his hand and asked softly, "He's dead, isn't he?" The feeling of pure grief that followed with Dooku's small incline of his head nearly overwhelmed Obi-Wan and he let out a shaky breath. "Oh," he whispered, not sure what to say. Qui-Gon had never been warm to him. He had been kind, yes. But never warm. But. . . he had still been Obi-Wan's Master. And now he was dead. Obi-Wan took a moment to gather his courage meeting Dooku's eyes and asking softly, "Did you kill him?"

Dooku's eyes narrowed and he said cooly, "You think I would kill my own Padawan?"

"I don't think so," Obi-Wan said softly, forcing himself to not look away and to try and match Dooku's cool tone and not have his voice shake. "The Master Dooku I know wouldn't. But the Master Dooku I knew didn't have yellow eyes."

There was a long and tense pause. "Yes," Dooku finally said softly. "I suppose that he didn't. But, as I said, there have been many changes throughout the years."

Obi-Wan leaned forward. "Throughout the years," he echoed, eyes widened as the truth hit him.

"Yes. Though, this is not time travel or any foolish thing as that," Dooku said with a sneer. "I suppose that your current form is my fault. You see, Obi-Wan, the Obi-Wan that I know isn't fourteen but thirty-five. There was an incident in the battle,"

"I was fighting in a battle?! But Jedi aren't soldiers!" Obi-Wan shied back at Dooku's cool stare. "I apologize for interrupting, Master Dooku."

Dooku just hummed, shifting Ahsoka in his arms as she continued to drink her dinner. Obi-Wan had to push back his amusement at the odd sight of Master Dooku of all people holding a baby. "As I said, there was an incident. I had sent droids to go collect an old Force Artifact with strict directions not to open it. I should've known that they would mess up," he spat, his dislike of Droids shining through. "And you and your GrandPadawan were caught in the blast."

So many thoughts ran through Obi-Wan's head but one word stuck. "GrandPadawan," he repeated, leaning forward. "But. . . you said I was only thirty-five. That's way too young for a GrandPadawan."

"And yet you had one. Because of my Padawan's arrogance and foolishness," Dooku said with a scowl. He pulled the bottle away from Ahsoka and shifted her in his arms to burp her, nodding in approval at the small burp that followed. "You see, Obi-Wan, this entire tale starts many years ago on the planet of Tatooine."

And for over an hour, Obi-Wan listened to the tale of his Master finding a young Slave boy with overwhelming access to the Force, how his Master and he had saved the boy - but not the boy's mother for reasons for lack of funds all reasons?! - and how his Master had discarded Obi-Wan for another.

"He . . . he repudiated me," Obi-Wan asked, staring at Dooku with wide eyes. "For. . . Just because he thought that this boy was the Chosen One?" He shook his head, trying to push the feelings of abandonment and confusion out of his mind and heart. This might not be true, a Dark Sider was telling him these things. It could all be lies.

But it didn't sound like lies. It didn't feel like lies.

"Yes, that's right," Dooku said gravely. He was standing now in front of the desk with a sleeping Ahsoka curled up in his arms. "And it was that Chosen One who set off the War that we are in now. Perhaps if Qui-Gon had allowed the boy to become something other than a Knight then we wouldn't be in this situation. But he insisted that the boy was the Chosen One and we had a boy with years of trauma trained."

Obi-Wan stared at Dooku in shock. "But, but the mind healers? Surely he had meetings with the mind healers? Was I that bad of a Knight that I didn't -"

Dooku cut him off with a stern look. "You had just faced a Sith and had seen your Master cut down in front of you while you were powerless to save him. You shouldn't have been knighted immediately after that. If Yoda had been smart, he would've given you to another Master until a Mind Healers said that you were ready to be a Knight. Instead, you were knighted and given a Padawan without the proper classes beforehand. From what I saw and heard, you did the best you could. You made mistakes, as all Masters do, but you everything you could." He sighed, shaking his head. "Perhaps if I had not been lost in grief as I had been I could've protested the Council's decision. But, there is nothing that can be done for things that are in the past."

Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by all of the thoughts and emotions running through his mind. He needed to think, he needed time to meditate and sort through his emotions. But, instead of asking for these things, he blurted out, "I need proof. You've told me all of these things but you could be lying and, and I need proof."

"And you'll have them," Dooku said with a firm nod. He suddenly stooped down, pushing Ahsoka in Obi-Wan's arms who promptly shifted her close to his chest. "It shouldn't be too hard to slice into the Temple's records and give you what you need."

". . . But you won't let me and Ahsoka go back to the Temple." Obi-Wan's suspicions were confirmed by Dooku's small nod. And yet, even though Obi-Wan was scared by this new Darkness surrounding Dooku. . . he couldn't help but relax a little at Dooku's nod. With how wrong the Force felt right now, the thought of leaving and having to feel the Force scream at full force without Dooku blocking most of it from him was terrifying.

"You'll stay here. At least until I've shown you the proof that you want. And I've still haven't finished the story of how we got here. How I fell from the Light and how a war erupted through the Galaxy. But that can wait until you've slept in a proper bed," Dooku said firmly, gesturing for Obi-Wan to stand and follow him. "I'll finish telling you the rest of the story tomorrow."

Obi-Wan nodded, tripping over his own feet as he hurried after Dooku. He suddenly felt exhausted and found it hard to even think, to the point that it was a surprise when they stopped in front of a door. "Thank you, Master Dooku," Obi-Wan said, bowing slightly and clumsily. He was so tired.

"It's Count Dooku," Dooku replied, though his face seemed to soften slightly. "Have a good sleep, Obi-Wan. You'll find a bassinet inside for your Grandpadawan. Just ask a Droid if you need anything." And with that, Dooku turned on his heel and walked down the hall and out of Obi-Wan's sight.

Obi-Wan walked inside, closing the door behind him with a tired sigh. So, he was a captive of his former GrandMaster who had turned Dark and was now waging war against the Jedi. And Master Qui-Gon was dead. Master Qui-Gon who had turned Obi-Wan away for another. Lovely. But he could barely think with how exhausted he was, his mind fuzzy as he laid Ahsoka down into the small, expensive bassinet. As he laid down in his bed, he thought how strange it was that Count Dooku would have a bassinet ready or how quickly Count Dooku had managed to produce a Stewjoni dish for Obi-Wan. Or why if Obi-Wan was a guest here, why was he wearing a Force Collar? And, especially, why had Count Dooku wanted that Force Artifact in the first place?

But, with how exhausted he was and how foggy his mind was, he couldn't stay awake much longer and within seconds, was fast asleep.

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

Dooku sipped at his tea, staring out of the base that he was currently holed up in and out at the army at his gate. Skywalker's clone army had surrounded him from all sides and how now laying siege to his base. Even from all the way from Skywalker's camp, Dooku could feel the Jedi's fury from his Master and Padawan being taken from it and determination to get them back. Not that it mattered, not really. Dooku's base was well enough defended that attacking now would be stupid. And, as it was Skywalker and not a smart Jedi who was laying siege to his base, Dooku already had a plan for escape for when Skywalker eventually made his move. 

This was a very delicate situation and it had grown much more complicated with every idiotic mistake that had happened with Dooku's plan. Dooku had supposed to have been there when Obi-Wan had been hit with the Force Artifact's blast and Padawan Tano had definitely not meant to be hit with the blast as well. Dooku had been distracted by a few mistakes by his idiotic and moronic Droids and had returned to his base hours after Obi-Wan and Young Ahsoka had been shoved into a small cell. Which had just made his annoyance of all the mistakes made rise.

Though, Padawan Tano being caught in the blast could work in Dooku's favour, if he played this right. He remembered Qui-Gon once speaking about how good Obi-Wan was with initiates. Yes, this could definitely work for Dooku. Though, it had taken quite some time to find the Youngling some proper Togrutan milk for her to drink.

Of course, it wouldn't be long until the Sith Master learnt of Dooku's play and come to deal with Dooku directly. He would have to be smart from now on, thinking of each move carefully. He had done well up until now but he couldn't prove to be lax. With Obi-Wan by his side and able to be manipulated by Dooku to think and act as he wanted, Dooku would be able to defeat the Sith Master. 

Of course, there was always the Jedi to think of. Even though Dooku had washed his hands of the Jedi, a small part of him felt regret for the corrupt that was growing both inside and all around his old order. Perhaps once Dooku's plan had come to fruition, the Jedi would be able to regrow and regroup. Not that it truly mattered to Dooku. He had what he wanted. Obi-Wan was at his side and - though he hadn't planned for it - he also had another powerful member of his lineage with him. 

Things certainly could've gone much, much worse.

[lynne-monstr]

Writers Month 2019: Day 17: Accidental Baby Acquisition (malec)

requested by anonymous

(note that i cannot write children so no actual human babies will appear in this.)

summary: In the event this monumentally stupid stunt gets him gets killed, Magnus only hopes Alec has the good sense to lie to his friends about the cause of his death. He knows for a fact more than one of those bastards has money on him dying of his own bleeding heart.

ao3 link

“Alec, no!” Magnus lunges, grabbing Alec’s sword arm before he can attack.

Alec twitches beneath his hand but doesn’t shake him off. Later, Magnus will marvel that he’s learned to trust Alec so deeply he'd put himself in the path of a Nephilim weapon without hesitation. But that’s a thought for later. For now, he’s more concerned about what he’s come home to.

It had been such a nice date night, but it already feels like a distant memory.The perils of being a powerful warlock with an equally powerful boyfriend.

All the lights in the loft are off save for the entranceway at their backs. In front of them, the living room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city’s light pollution filtering in from the balcony windows. Everything is wreathed in shadow. Magnus feels the weight of his glamour dropping and the room sharpens into the full spectrum of night. Which is when he sees it. In the darkened depths of the living room, there’s a darker smudge under the coffee table.

He and Alec aren’t alone.

There’s something in the room with them, lying in wait beneath the furniture. Magnus tastes the air and the hair on the back of his necks stands up. With his natural vision, he can see what his instincts warned him of, what Alec saw with his heightened Shaowhunter senses. There’s a creature pressed tight against the far leg of the coffee table. But he also sees why he stopped Alec’s attack. The creature is huddled as far away as it can get without leaving the shelter of the furniture.

It isn’t attacking, or preparing an ambush. It’s cowering.

Something that feels like a memory curdles in Magnus’ stomach. He hates to see anyone or anything cower.

Beneath his grip, the muscles of Alec’s forearm twitch. He shifts on the balls of his feet but doesn’t interfere. Warmth expands in Magnus’ chest. Alec’s battle instincts must be screaming but he’s willing to yield to Magnus’ expertise in this particular area.

Edom.

There’s an Edomei in their home.

The Edomei is curled into a ball of pitch-black scales. Its very presence warps the light around it, making the space under the coffee table darker than it should rightfully appear. A pair of equally black wings shoot from the creature's back. The wings look wrong—crooked and grotesque, deformed and hanging in ways that make Magnus shift in discomfort.

“It’s injured.” Alec’s voice is soft, though his body remains a coiled spring. “What’s it doing here?” he adds, keeping his voice low, as if the thing can understand English.

Maybe it can. Magnus has never looked too deeply into the native inhabitants of his homeland aside from strengths, weaknesses, and hunting patterns. The only thing he knows about these creatures is how to kill them.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I invited it over for drinks,” Magnus whispers back. He swallows down the rising dread at the reminder of the place he once called home. He’d prefer to forget this part of his heritage but here it is, not even on his doorstep but inside his home.

Alec, his wonderful Alexander, attempts to lighten the mood. “Well, you did once tell me you made the best cocktails in North America. Maybe word spread.”

Magnus lets out a silent huff, and gives Alec’s arm a squeeze. It never fails to amaze him that Alec can read him so well. He clings to the comfort as he makes his decision on what to do with his uninvited guest. His logical mind says to kill it. The rest of him balks at the thought of killing a child. Because that’s what this is, a tiny, young Edomei that somehow found its way to his loft.

Slowly, he releases his grip on Alec and takes a tentative step forward.

The Edomei under his coffee table backpedals in a flurry of wings. It makes it about three steps before listing off balance, stumbling onto its side with a pained cry. Its wings flap uselessly and a thready screech fills the air.

Magnus is moving before he can convince himself what a terrible idea this is.

“It’s okay,” he says, walking forward with small, tentative steps.

It was never really a decision at all. A child is a child, regardless of species. He only hopes that in the event this monumentally stupid stunt gets him gets killed, Alec has the good sense to lie to his friends about his cause of death. He knows for a fact that more than one of those bastards has money on him dying of his own bleeding heart.

Behind him, Alec keeps pace, hovering at his shoulder. His unsheathed blade glints in the evening light but he doesn’t raise it.

As Magnus gets closer, he can hear the Edomei breathing in weak squeals. Its scaled chest continues to heave, faster and faster as he kneels beside it, a string of nonsense reassurances spilling from his lips in the same low, hushed tones that work well on all types of children.

Around them, the loft is perfectly still.

The eyes that meet Magnus’ gaze are deep red with no pupil but he gets the sense of being studied by a predator. A very small one in need of help, but a predator nonetheless. Magnus doesn’t flinch. This tiny Edomei is hardly the only predator in the room.

After a beat, it lowers its head.

The urge to let out a breath is palpable but Magnus resists. No showing weakness now or it may be the last thing he does.

He leans in for a closer look. The small dragon-like creature isn’t just dark in color but filthy. Caked between the scales are layers upon layers of dirt and grime. Magnus wrinkles his nose. It must have dragged itself through half the gutters of Brooklyn in search of shelter.

“Alright, let’s patch you up. This rug is a lost cause but we can still salvage the hardwood if we work fast.” There’s no response, which is a shame but ultimately not a surprise. He’s not sure if it’s because the Edomei doesn’t understand human language, or because the denizens of his father’s realm don’t have a sense of humor. Either is equally likely.

Raising a hand, he prepares to summon a ball of magic to his aid.

“Magnus be careful,” Alec interrupts before he can cast the spell. He’s in a defensive stance at Magnus’ shoulder, blade poised to plunge into the Edomei’s heart at the slightest provocation. “You don’t know why it’s here. It could kill us both the moment you heal it.”

They both remember the battle at the beach, the sheer amount of devastation even a single Edomei can wreak. Even a small one—practically a baby, Magnus realizes with an ache—is incredibly dangerous.

“It’s a child, Alexander. It’s here because it has nowhere else to go.”

Alec’s eyes go a little bit soft, his blade slowly lowering though he doesn’t drop his guard. His Alexander has always had a soft spot for the young.

“It must have come through that portal and escaped detection all this time. Unsurprising, considering its size. When it got hurt and tried to go home, the portal no longer existed and there was no magic for it to follow back to Edom. I suppose it found my magic instead and traced it here.” Magnus swallows down the memories of filthy alleys and rancid food and the absolute knowledge that no one in the world cared for him enough to save him. “An easy mistake to make, considering where my magic comes from.”

A warm hand settles on his shoulder. “You’re nothing like him, Magnus.”

“I know,” he says, and isn’t that something, that those are words he can say without a hint of sarcasm.

He spent his entire life doubting, convinced that there was no atoning for the sins of his past. He still has his moments of weakness, but he can’t deny the impact of Alec’s stalwart acceptance. In this moment, he’s intensely, absurdly grateful that he trusted Alec enough to take that leap and tell him of his heritage. To trust the man he loves with his most closely guarded and shameful secret.

Alec’s hand falls away and Magnus doesn’t need to look to know he’s readying himself for a fight if things go wrong. “Do what you have to do. I’ll cover you.”

Before he can regret his choice, Magnus sends out a stream of magic into the Edomei’s mangled wings.

This time, the creature’s cry is pure excitement. The moment the last of the hollow bones knit together, it launches itself into the air, circling the remnants of magic coming off Magnus’ fingers. Magnus nearly blasts it but years of helping untrained warlocks control their magic stays his hand.

Alec steps in close but doesn’t attack, still following Magnus’ lead.

Following a hunch, Magnus shoots out a few harmless sparks. The the Edomei flies after it, landing in a tangle of wings on the far end of Magnus’ couch. It bounces on the cushion, trying to grab at the dancing points of bright blue magic. When that doesn’t work it breathes out a tiny jet of fire, no larger than the flickering flame of a lighter. Magnus presses his lips together, not wanting to laugh and scare the creature. His resolve nearly breaks when he looks over at Alec, whose eyes are wide, a lopsided smile painted across his face as he watches what should be a fearsome beast pounce on bits of magic.

“My poor couch,” Magnus laments with a frown, sending out a couple more bursts of magic. Some of it races around the Edomei, the rest erases the tiny burn marks from the upholstery. At the same time he he spares a burst of power to gradually brighten the lights in the room. He's getting tired of not seeing in color.

Alec presses his lips together but can’t hide his amusement. “We’re keeping it, aren’t we?” The words are resigned but there’s a hopeful tone in his voice that tells Magnus he’s just as enamored with their unexpected visitor as Magnus is. His voice turns contemplative as he adds, “I wonder why this one is so different than the others.”

“Well, we did save it. Maybe it’s grateful,” Magnus says, though he’s not convinced at his own glib answer.

“Or maybe there’s nothing inherently evil about being from Edom,” Alec replies, pointedly. “Maybe the other Edomei were taught how to be destructive and this one never learned how to hurt people.”

Magnus can’t help himself, he leans in and kisses Alec. Just a light press of lips but enough to let him know how much his words mean.

They both tense for a split second when the Edomei flies at them but it merely settles on Magnus’ shoulder.

“It needs a name,” Alec says, watching the two of them with a fond expression that’s usually reserved for Magnus himself.

“He needs a name,” Magnus corrects. He considers whether or not to be jealous of Alec’s affection and decides against it. The Edomei is adorable, after all.

As if it can sense his thoughts, his new shoulder companion gives another happy noise and plops it’s head down to rest in what was until that very moment a perfectly styled hairdo.

Mischief lights up Alec’s face, now clearly visible in the well lit room. “How about Michelangelo, since he’s clearly a master artisan.” He points to Magnus’ hair, which has become a birds-nest in an almost literal sense. “And now the next time you try to tell me you shared quarters with Michelangelo, it will actually be true.” One corner of his mouth turns up, clearly pleased with himself.

Magnus pretends to pout. “Are you insulting my flirting?” He still remembers the look of confusion that pickup line had earned him from Alec in those early days. Nothing like the smile that lights up his face now, or the warm glint in his eyes that Magnus can feel all the way down to his bones. He pretends to pout, for old time’s sake. “Fine, but if he tries to crawl into our bed at night, you have only yourself to blame.”

Alec grins in satisfaction. “Michelangelo it is.”

The Edomei kneads its claws into the expensive fabric of Magnus’ silk shirt. Magnus grumbles about Versace but his heart isn’t in it. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

The tiny creature flaps its wings, stretching out its long neck and letting out a high-pitched honking noise completely at odds with its small frame. Magnus assumes it’s some form of agreement and scratches its belly in reassurance.

It looks like there were going to be three of them in the loft for the foreseeable future.

[minalous]

when we were young • jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

description/warnings: none, maybe some kissing, hades!jungkook, mortal!reader || The man named Jungkook. The wonderful man who came into your life and changed it forever. Broken memories is all you have left of him, memories of him playing like a broken record inside your scattered mind. But you still love him, after all these years you love him. Always..

genre: angst | fluff

words: 2.2k

♡

“Is this the last time I get to hold you?”

You don’t leave his hand from yours, you keep holding him as close as you can to savour the last of moments you get to have him. His eyes meet yours in a desperate attempt to burn your image inside his mind, inside his heart. The memory of you will be his sweet remedy.

He was never meant to meet you, never meant to fall in love with you, never meant to hurt you.

He is a God who wanted to see humans from up close and experience those feelings and emotions he was never able to understand. He knew of pain, loss, love, lust, regret, loneliness. He knew how people reacted to the illusion of the existence of emotions, he wondered how humans could be so irrational of trusting one another, how they could be so blind to the truth.

The one truth for him was death. Death was simple, certain, inevitable. And love was the opposite; complicated, vague, inexplicable.

Jungkook’s curiosity was the fatal mistake. The mistake that comes to haunt him for the rest of his immortal life.

But at least you will have all those memories.. Broken memories of the most beautiful days of your mortal life

♡ The first time you met him was on a spring day. The beauty of the blossomed trees was mesmerising, everyone around you was too busy to enjoy how beautiful of a day it was, except for him. A man who had his eyes closed and he seemed so lost into the moment that it made your heart skip a beat. It was such a rare view, same to a hidden gem to still find people willing to stop and stare to the beauty nature can offer. You still remember watching him as if hypnotised, Jungkook reaching out to touch one of the branches of the tree and softly whisper to it.

Every now and then you would see him around the city, it would be more than unavoidable not to notice him. The way he moved around was the equivalent of aristocratic. His manners were out of this world but whenever you were to steal some glances, his eyes would seem so full of curiosity and excitement. Everything was going so well, you looking at him from afar until the day Jungkook’s eyes stared into yours and at that moment you swear you felt infinite.

The days would come and go so quickly since you met him, getting to know him was a new experience to the both of you. Jungkook seemed to know every little thing for the universe itself but when it came to the smallest of things, he acted as a child ready to get a candy within his grasp. It was beautiful and rare to interact with someone who was spellbound by you, someone who was both excited and anxious about the new things you could explore together.

Jungkook was the person you had been waiting your whole life for; he would message you to ask you if it was okay to go on another date but would always ask you if it was too cold for you to go out. His consideration about everything would seem annoying to someone else but to you was the sweetest of things.

♡

The warmth of the winter sun is one of the moments you can still recall with great ease, the faint wind blowing the last of the leaves away and the scenery unravelling before you was so breathtaking. The sea looked as if taken from an ancient painting, put before your eyes and waiting for you to step inside it, to be taken in another world. A world were you can be with him, just you and Jungkook.

That day, the day when you spent hours and hours of sharing moments, dreams and wishes for the future to come, you could feel the longing in your heart. It was a feeling you could not shake away, a feeling screaming you were about to suffer a great loss. But Jungkook was right there beside you, so what could go wrong?

And on that day when you were so scared about your future with him, it was the day you shared your first kiss. The kiss felt pure, filled with emotions, so full of love and longing. It was the kind of kiss you wait for a thousand lives, a kiss you only have once.

♡

You remember the first time you saw him gazing at the snow as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. His eyes met the endless of the night sky and when a small snowflake hit his warm cheek you could swear his childlike, innocent smile was the purest form of love you ever felt in your life. Jungkook turned around to see your sweet smile, the smile you only had for him.

“I wish I could feel like that everyday” Jungkook said suddenly

“Like what?” you asked softly

“I wish everyday was like that; waking up by your side and not have a care for the world. Just you and I” he told you as his fingers brushed against your hand “It feels right to be here with you, to live this moment, to share it with you” his fingers now intertwined with yours and as he was about to start walking again, he put your hands inside his coat’s pocket.

“Your innocence makes me love you even more..”

♡

“My selfishness brought us here.” Jungkook was muttering to himself

You may not have been able to completely understand what was going through his mind but deep inside, deep inside you knew it had to be this uneasy feeling you always had. The love you were experiencing with him was too good to be true, you being happy for once in your life was not meant to last.

“What is it?” you asked him softly but in vain

Jungkook was picking up random stuff he had left scattered around his house, moving around from room to room to collect items he may have forgotten. Before you could even recollect your thoughts, ask him what is happening, he spoke again.

“It was all worth it. It is worth it”

With his hand wrapped around your waist he ever so carefully guides you towards the front door.

“Please wait for me at the car. I will be there in a few minutes” you are about to complain but he stops you

“Please don’t fight me on that. Go. Just go. Please..” he says softly and with a soft kiss on the top of your head, he gives you a bittersweet smile and closes the door behind you.

But knowing you, you do not leave. You simply stand there, behind the closed door, wondering why all out of the sudden he began being so mysterious and weird around you. For one, you knew for sure there were parts of him you could never quite understand in depth but that was what you loved about him.

The door you thought. You could open the door and go see what was the reason of his absurd behaviour, why he was acting so differently. All kind of thoughts were running through your mind; him being terminally ill. Why was your mind your worst enemy? The anxiety was about to consume you whole so your body did you a favour, your hand pushed the door open.

No, you cannot lose him. Not him.

You could never remember what you saw that day, the only memory was waking up inside Jungkook’s arms, him being a trembling mess. He kept apologising about corrupting your innocent soul, his aura influencing your mind. How he could be so oblivious to the threats he made you face.

That was the day he revealed who he was, that was the day you lost him forever.

♡

“It was never your fault. It is not your fault you chose to love me. It is my fault, mine and only. This human heart inside my chest beats only for you and every cell in this body screams out its love for you. If I were ever meant to be on this earth and live a human life, I would be honoured to be yours, to be your soulmate.” Standing still for a moment, Jungkook’s eyes follow the tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes. When his hand softly cups your cheek, you instinctively lean on his touch with his warmth blinding your thoughts.

“We need to say goodbye. Should I stay more, I may never be able to leave” Jungkook feels something wetting his cheek and for a moment he is confused by the strangeness of it.

“You’re my tear” he says as he wipes the drop of tear “You’re the emotions I never had”

For he was the Angel of death, protector of the damned souls, an immortal God who should have never fallen in love with the mortal you. He was Hades.

And you.. The mortal you. You were everything he could dream of but never could possess.

A love doomed into the eternity with no hope to blossom. An eternal hope of a spring day that shall remain frozen into the coldness of his winter

“I wish I’d be your last” the voice you heard was so faint but you knew. You knew it was him, wishful thoughts of you being there for him and him being with you for the rest of your days..

♡

“I miss you”

This faint whispering you keep listening must be a mistaken memory of yours. The old you has been thinking of him, recalling everything dear and beautiful you have been keeping close to your heart all these years. You are alone in this world, falling into deep thoughts of how different your life could have been if you ever chose to marry the man called Namjoon, the man who begged you to let him heal your broken heart. But your heart wasn’t yours to heal. It ever belonged to him, the voice you have been wishing to remember until it is impossible to forget.

Old and alone. Because how could you ever love without Jungkook? But you lived a happy life, you lived until you would see him again.

“I still want you”

This voice. Even after all these years the voice never leaves you alone. Is it a dream?

The room seems to get darker around you, the light on your nightstand can barely illuminate the corners of it. There is no fear though for what it is to come, this familiar feeling of complete serenity is bathing your soul and for once in a long time you feel at peace.

“It is time, my love” the voice says.. But it is right beside you now.

“Finally” you can barely get out “you came back for me”

“I never left” you can now see Jungkook’s beautiful face, his figure towering over your smaller, weaker frame

“You are still so beautiful, so young” you tell him and you can see him smile, after decades of missing him, he is here

“So are you” Jungkook leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips and heaven knows how long you have waited for this moment to come

Jungkook ever so carefully helps you get up from the bed, feeling lightweight after months of not being able to stand on your own. He guides you in front of the standing mirror in one of the corners of your room.

“Am I young again?” you say in disbelief

“We can have our second chance in afterlife. Come with me, my love”

You turn around to face the truth; your old, lifeless body is laying peacefully on the bed but you do not feel ready to leave. The love of your life is standing centimetres away from you but still, you are not complete.

“I have one last question before I leave this world.” you start “ The day before you left me, something happened, something that scared you.”

Jungkook calmly explained to you what he found out while being with you, how he was slowly claiming your soul. Being the God of Death, it was inevitable, you were cursed to live separately while being mortal. He never meant to hurt you..“I waited for you. Until it was your time to leave this earthly world and be with me. I waited..”

“Are you ready?” Jungkook asks you but you keep looking back at the nightstand

“Just one moment” you respond, walking back to your nightstand to shuffle through your belongings. 

“Take my hand now, love” is all he had to say and you willingly followed. You were ready to let go

In the last moment you had left in the earthly world, you wished to leave the most precious thing you ever had in your possession, to be left with what you loved the most. You had placed it in your hand so you can be with it, body and soul.

A gift from Jungkook to you, a beautiful gift that had “Forever yours” written on its back. A photograph of when you were young. 

“I am ready” 

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Breaking the Cycle || Adam, Alcher, Ariana, Layla, & Nell

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @walker-journal @zahneundklauen @letsbenditlikebennett @laylacooke @nelllraiser SUMMARY: Alcher and Layla seek out Adam for retribution, while Ariana grabs Nell to assure no one else dies tonight.  CONTENT: Suicide ideation, disease, violence

Lyssa’s Peak was a jagged spike against the violet sky. Its wooded slopes were choked with mist as canyons and cliffs gradually succumbed down into gentler foothills whose trees occasionally thinned around an old quarry or abandoned timber operation that was gradually being swallowed again by the relentless march of the montane forest. 

It was in one of these abandoned mountainside quarries that Adam had chosen to spare, due to it being one of few clearings with reasonably level ground. Whatever unfortunate company had been tempted to sink investments into Lyssa’s Peak had long since cut their losses when the inevitable ‘incidents’ took their toll on the workforce and equipment. Abandoned cranes, dozers, and digger trucks lay quietly rusting in the quarry’s lower basin. The once clean cut and precise terrace steps of exposed rock that had formed the quarry’s sides now sported outcroppings of trees and bushes as nature reclaimed the excavation layer by layer. 

Adam’s sleeveless workout T-shirt stuck to his body with sweat as he took a break to chug down a water bottle. He offered a spare water bottle to Layla. “So ...why’d you wanna train up anyway Cooke?” 

Since Ariana had admitted the news about Adam being Winn’s killer, Layla could think of nothing else, but why and revenge. The last time anger had been harbored so deeply inside was right before she had hypnotized herself, and while she didn’t exactly have that option at the moment, she at least knew that she’d have backup sooner or later.

With sweat running down her fair face and her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, she easily caught the water and began chugging it down, “I’m tired of being the weak one in everything. It’s like…” She took another drink of water, “Everyone either wants to protect me or use me for my nose. I’m not a fucking bloodhound. And if my parents ever show…” She didn’t finish her thought. Instead, she took another drink of water and capped the bottle, “You ready to go again? And don’t go easy on me. Go hard. If you hurt me, then so be it. I’ve gotta learn.” Tossing the bottle to the side, she found her fighting stance readying herself for Adam’s attack; the energy from Lyssa’s Peak fueling the fire and anger inside of her small fit form. She hadn’t quite got a good hit in on the hunter yet, but she would before the night was over with.

The hunter was a child, but Alcher had decided long ago that that no longer mattered. They were marched out of their cribs and turned into war machines as young as five, four-- perhaps even three years old. Handed swords and told that they were born with a duty, a destiny, and that only they held the power to destroy monsters. When in truth, monsters were arbitrary. To a wolf who was left alone after their family was slaughtered, the hunter was the monster. And prey was just prey. Human was just...human.

Tonight, Alcher would show this young hunter what real monster’s looked like. He was well trained, she could see it in the movements of his body. But he had come unarmed to this sparring match. Well, perhaps not completely unarmed-- she knew true hunters always carried a weapon with them, she’d learned that lesson the hard way long ago-- but there were no swords or silver bullets in sight. Sweat mixed with the smell of the forest floor. The energy of Lyssa’s Peak made the shift easy. Now, while he was distracted. Her light body was more silent among the dead leaves of the ground, but she needed to be quick-- he would hear her soon enough. She tore from the brush quickly and bee-lined for the hunter. Layla would follow suit or she would incur wrath. Golden eyes bore down on Adam, teeth and claws following quickly after. 

From what she could piece together of the messages, Ariana knew she needed to get to Adam and get to him quickly. While she was still pissed, she couldn’t just let him get killed. That’s exactly what Winn didn’t want to happen. The thought of warning Adam had crossed her mind, but then he’d likely just kill Alcher and Layla. It was enough to make her heart race as she panicked and called Nell who had of course been willing to help. She always was. Once she’d picked Nell up, a tracking spell and her nose led them to Lyssa’s Peak. The sky was getting darker and the place had a certain energy about it that made her feel stronger. The smaller hills around the area were easy enough to navigate and she could hear the sounds of a fight though it seemed friendly in the moment, but she could smell Alcher here. It was a trap. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and stayed tucked behind a tree. “We’re not far,” she whispered to Nell, “There’s something about this place, I feel stronger. I think I should go in first and you can provide magical backup as needed?” 

Part of her knew Nell may want to be more on the frontlines, but she couldn’t stand the thought of her becoming a werewolf snack. She kept herself low below the brush and made sure her steps were quiet as she approached. As she saw Alcher lunging toward Adam, she called out, “No! Adam, watch out.” No longer caring about being seen, she darted across the way to try and stop the fight without any casualties. 

Nell supposed that she could only be thankful that Ariana had told her what was happening in time for her to get her ribs healed. Desperate measures, in her terms, had been taken when it came to making sure the bones were sound enough to withstand the potential clash that was brewing. The warm tingling of a fresh healing from her mother was still settling into her chest, mixing fluidly with the buzzing beginnings of her adrenaline. She’d put the interaction as far as she could from her mind, focussing instead on the task that was now at hand. Her eyes flicked to Ariana at the werewolf’s suggestion, and Nell took a beat to chew on it before replying. “I’ll let you go first. But if I think either you or Adam’s about to go down— I’m not gonna hesitate,” she warned, knowing that she wouldn’t toy with the lives of those that were important to her. 

As Alcher leapt forward, Nell did her best to fight against the urge to rise and meet her. A lack of reaction went against every fiber of her body’s current demands, and her jaw was clenched as she forced herself to watch and trust Ariana. Instead, she fiddled nervously with the hilt of a silver dagger clenched in her hand, drawn from its hiding place. Nell’s patience only lasted so long before her gut won out, and a quick spell was dropped from her lips to raise an invisible shield between Adam and the lunging wolf. 

Adam’s too focused on sparring with Layla when a burning-ice sensation running up his spine and across his skin let Adam know a few seconds too late that another paranormal being had descended into the quarry. 

Ariana’s voice called out and Adam spun, reaching back to draw a concealed survival knife in one fluid movement born from years of conditioning that’d made such an economy of motion pure instinct. But the wolf was already on him in a blunt impact of pure accelerated muscle.  

A moment of blinding pain later, Adam jumped up from the stony ground into a guarded crouch, clutching the silvered survival knife in the hand not currently bleeding from lacerations. The impact had thrown him down and torn open his shoulder and left arm, but Adam racing thoughts recognized that he’d probably have a giant ass wolf ripping open his throat right now if ...something … hadn’t suddenly blunted the wolf’s charge. 

“You should probably go to Ariana and get the hell outta here,” Adam noted to Layla in a low voice as he warrieing stared down the three legged wolf, painfully aware that a survival knife and one good arm weren't exactly great odds. 

Everything had happened so much quicker than expected. The sparring had resumed only to be interrupted by Alcher lunging for Adam, and Layla quickly backstepping to get out of the path of the angry wolf. However, it was Ariana’s voice that had thrown her. Why was she here? She was supposed to be home or with Luna. Not around to bear witness to what was taking place.

Seeing the wolf go down and Adam freed from Alcher’s wicked grasp gave Layla the opportunity she needed. It was his warning that had only seemed to anger her more, “Why? So you can kill another one of my friends?” Head low, she could already feel the painfulness of wanting to shift, and before long, she was bearing blood covered fangs and sharp claws out of shaky hands; a sickness hovering as her body wanted more from the shift. But she had no time to waste. Adam was down, and without thinking about the consequences of her own actions, merely revenge, she lunged on top of the hunter and let her claws sink into his skin dragging them downward in advance to make him suffer just like Winn probably had.

Alcher, focused on her target, had not allowed herself to believe she had smelled Ariana’s scent in the forest around them. Or, perhaps, she had found herself hoping that the young wolf had come voluntarily to help with their mission. But her voice rang out and it called not for her or Layla, but for the hunter. And even as Alcher’s teeth sunk into flesh, and claws scraped at cloth, she could not revel in the taste of hunter blood. Instead, a rage burned inside of her, for in the next moment, something was pushing her from the hunter’s body, stopping her forward movement. Another smell, a new smell. Human-- so human. Teeth still coated in blood, she growled, low and dark, expressing her anger. Gold eyes flashed again and she turned, glowering down at the young wolf standing next to the human. Anger and disappointment ravaged Alcher’s mind, but she could not entirely fault the young wolf for her weakness. She was not raised with other wolves, she did not know properly.

Punishment would have to come later.

A small swell of pride filled her when she smelled the hunter’s blood again and she turned to see Layla digging into him. The other two would have to wait. Alcher bared her teeth again and made for the hunter’s neck. She would not kill him, though. No, that...she would leave for Layla.

There was no time to focus on the stupid decision she’d made in telling them about what really happened to Winn. Instinctively, her feet moved her forward and Ariana snarled at Layla who was now on top of Adam trying to rip into him. The energy of this place was seeping into her. Her legs were stronger, her motions more swift, and everything in her body was screaming for her to shift. Maybe that had been a little bit instinct, too. With Alcher fully transformed and Layla on her way there, there was no stopping them without allowing her more wild nature to take the lead. Still, she pleaded momentarily, “Layla, stop! This isn’t-- Winn didn’t want this, okay? This is the last thing Winn wanted.” God, she hoped he’d moved on and was at peace already so he couldn’t see this. It seemed there was no stopping the fight, especially not with Alcher here, so she focused on her breathing. 

 A few deep breaths later and she let the shift happen. The feeling this place gave her was worrying, but she had to keep her head on straight. If she didn’t, it was Adam and Nell who would pay the price. Her bones twisted and broke as she grew into her wolf self. The clothes on her back were ripped up on the ground behind her and the smell of blood was calling to her. Instinct called for the hunter’s blood, but her anger led her paws straight to Layla. The wolf ran at full speed, pummeling into Layla and knocking her off Adam. She wasn’t entirely a wolf yet, but she could still feel the resistance as she pinned her down. A loud growl in Layla’s face echoed in the hills around them. 

Nell had only recognized one of the two wolves. Layla was one she knew from having tried to execute a wrongful bounty on the girl, but the other werewolf was a mystery. Coincidentally, this was also the wolf that had been left in the clear when it came to attacking Adam. Ariana had thrown Layla off course, but there was a clear shot between the other wolf and the now bleeding Hunter. It seemed that Ariana had given up on solving this peacefully, which brought a new sharpness to Nell’s eyes and movements, shifting quickly into fight mode rather than defense.

“No!” Nell’s heart pounded out a frantic beat as she surged forwards, reminding her that there was much more hinging on this clash than usual, the literal lives of her friends being the ones dangling in danger. Performing another often-used spell to grant her temporary, heightened speed, the witch surged forwards to run interference, leaping towards Alcher, silver knife extended to plunge as she aimed for the wolf’s shoulder with a slash. Hopefully, if anything, it would serve as a distraction. Another moment later and she was using the knife on herself, drawing a line of blood down her forearm to fuel her next magic, creating two more Adams next to the original, trying to make it harder for the wolves to choose their marks when there were three apparitions giving off his scent. 

 The quarry’s stone’s bit deep as Adam struggled on his back, the muscles of his claw-raked arms and neck straining to ripcord tautness as he tried to hold off the three-legged wolf’s jaws now inches away from his throat. The creature’s breath was hot and wet against the Hunter’s face, thick with the coppery scent of Adam’s own blood dripping down her fangs. 

In that moment with death quite literally staring him in the face, Adam looked up into Alcher’s golden eyes  and also saw the eyes of Elias, amber lupine irises slowly becoming human as the knife of a football teammate ended the Turnskin’s curse. Adam saw Lucas’ pleading eyes as the hunted wolf knowingly placed his life in the hands of a killer. After that were Miles’ eyes regarding him warily, conditioned to distrust after a lifetime of regret. Adam saw Kaden’s eyes, transfixed by pain as his familys’ blood feud sought to swallow up yet another life. There were Mina’s eyes, afraid but not surprised as a stranger held her at knife-point for not being her father’s daughter. In there were Orion’s eyes as he saw Adam glance at his scars and finally grasp a depravity that’d been right in front of his face for years. Regan’s eyes were wide with confusion as she was held at gunpoint for being different in a way neither she or her assailant truly understood. The light died from James’ eyes as he was cut down by someone sworn to be his protector. 

Some unconscious part of Adam finally grasped what Celeste had already known and what Winn had died trying to get him to understand. 

But it was too late. Adam was an oathbreaker, a betrayer, a coward. 

Adam’s arms adupbtly started to give out as the wolf bore down on him. Far more than blood bled out of Adam on the quarry stones. It was like something within him snapped, pushed beyond the farthest brink of exhaustion for so long that it was finally giving out entirely. The last of embers of Adam’s dwindling faith went cold, leaving him to hopelessly fight a primal creature of myth with only a mortal strength. 

Reduced from predator to prey, Adam would’ve likely died beneath Alcher’s mauling right there if Nell hadn’t intervened, her distraction and illusions giving him just the narrow break to struggle free. 

“Nell ..Ariana,” Adam coughed hoarsely, struggling to stand but falling back to his knees as his now-human stamina. What was left of his clothes, shoulder and back were a ragged mass of claw of dirty claw-gouges. “You need to go,”

He looked up to Nell, eyes pleading with her not to perpetuate this cycle of death that’d begun generations before Adam and Winn were born. “This has gotta end with me.” 

Layla couldn’t hear Ariana’s voice because of the blind rage going through her body. All she could focus on was destroying Adam, but the jolt of another fully grown figure hitting her and knocking her off of him seemed to stun her enough to let out a yelp, before she realized she was being pinned down by the younger wolf. However, it didn’t stop the anger and frustration looming in her heart or the sense of rage Lyssa’s Peak was casting over her on an amplified level. She could feel the sickness of the bite; it’s poison as it raced through her veins and animal instinct became more prominent. And without making any attempt to stop the change, she embraced the excruciating pain as the shift took control leaving her cries soon turning into howls. And before long, golden eyes stared back into those of her best friend as she growled, before using all the hurt inside of her to push the other werewolf off.

Scampering to her feet, she noticed Adam on his knees. He was at the mercy of the beasts, and in that moment, she no longer saw a friend. She saw an enemy. One who had reminded her so much of what she was taught to do as a child. One that saw no mercy, when he aimed his gun and fired upon creatures, now like herself, that didn’t always deserve the fate they got, because a human with enhanced abilities felt it was his right to play God.

Lowering her head and snarling, spittle glistening from her open maw, she was going to make Alcher proud. Avenge Winn’s death. And take out a man who walked around so pompously pretending to be a God, when he was nothing more than a mere mortal. And without hesitating any longer, she made the mad dash in his direction with claws fully extended and teeth bared, ready to rip and tear his flesh like that of paper and snap his bones like twigs, not knowing if she would choose the right Adam. Only going off of instinct. 

Her two wolves were fighting each other and it tore at Alcher’s heart to see. But she needed to focus now-- she would have to trust that Layla could hold her own against Ariana. And hope that the confused wolf would come around to their thinking. Because in the next moment, pain tore through her shoulder. Alcher howled loudly, turning to face her attacker. The witch. She was becoming more than a nuisance, and if she prodded any further, she would also become a threat. Which meant she would have to kill her. Alcher threw her off quickly, and turned to face the hunter again-- but then there were more of him. Copies. They smelled the same, looked the same. Alcher roared angrily and leapt at one, tearing at its throat. It disintegrated in her mouth. She turned to the other two. They were weak. Staggering on their feet. Trying to sacrifice themself like some sort of martyr. She spit out blood and turned to look back at the spellcaster. The hunter deserved death, but perhaps she would let him suffer first. Unable to save his friends, he would watch.

She feigned as if to go for him once again, turning on her heel at the last minute to spring towards the spellcaster. She ran her full weight into the girl, claws curling in as if to hold onto her. And then jaws closed around her wrist, savoring the taste of her blood, while simultaneously preventing her from using her silver knife anymore. Next, her throat.

For a moment Nell hesitated, trying to make sense of Adam’s strangled plea. Was he asking for an end to the age old battle he’d been fighting for all his life? It was all she could do to shake her head in denial even though she’d told him not a week before that letting it fester would break him, giving her refusal to let him be the price for peace.  Because it wouldn’t be peace if he died. Not for the cycle, and certainly not for her. “It won’t stop, though,” she managed to grind out. It would be another turn of the gears that kept the killing machine of Hunter versus wolf still moving, the cogs bigger than this single clash. Beyond that- she was too selfish in the matter. Selfish enough to ensure that Adam lived, and selfish enough to forfeit any good that might come of seeing him die. Too many people had died, and he wasn’t a sacrifice she was willing to make. 

Her moment of stillness had stretched too long, and before Nell knew it she found herself tossed to the side. Alcher’s feint towards Adam was enough to have the witch launching herself in the wolf’s direction once again, but her eyes went wide as she realized Alcher was rising to meet her instead. It was over within a moment, a gasp of pain slipping from her as the wolf’s teeth found their mark. The deeper meaning of a werewolf bite was lost on her in the midst of the fight, not even having a moment to think of the obvious consequences it might hold when the very same teeth that had broken her skin were seeking her throat. She reached for her magic, the same that had exploded the Lamia’s head at the Ring, and unintentionally put Kaden on his knees in Bea’s kitchen. Focusing on the wolf’s leg opposite the one that was already half gone from some prior injury, she tugged with the intent to bend the leg into an unnatural position, hoping to shock the wolf into missing. A loud crack rang out as bone snapped, and Nell lived to see the wolf still above her, no doubt readying her next strike.

A snarl echoed through the clearing as Ariana saw Nell being attacked. Had she not been buzzing with wild energy, she may have been able to approach this more tactically, but as it stood, she had seen Adam in danger and ran on instinct. Now Nell was paying the price and the smell of blood in the air was calling to her. It was hard to ignore, but something about seeing Nell hurt propelled her forward. Layla was likely going to need a minute to find the real Adam and Nell didn’t have that long. Alcher’s ferocity was unnerving, especially when it was directed toward her friend. She darted forward, paws barrelling against the brush, and crashed into Alcher before she could sink her teeth anywhere more dangerous. 

The wolf in her felt out of sorts, fighting her own kind, but this was senseless. Even with her own ferocity threatening to spill over, she had to hold on to what Winn had wanted. If he could see them now, he’d be hurting and the thought only made a low growl rumble within her smaller form. Hopefully the moment for Nell to recover would give her the edge she needed. This felt like it would never end and she wished she’d thought of a better plan as she found herself craving the taste of blood.

Adam didn’t feel worthy of these two women risking their lives for him. Layla was right. He had killed Winn, a friend who’d trusted him, and there were consequences for that. He’d ignored all of Winn, Celeste, and Ariana’s warnings  about continuing the cycle of violence. 

Ari and Nell shouldn’t get killed trying to rescue Adam from something of his own making. 

But if they weren’t going to let him go, Adam needed to make sure everyone here made it out alive. 

Even just trying to keep standing seemed more than Adam had left, but even as the Hunter’s powers bled out of him, that lifelong mental conditioning to fight past the pain and focus on the mission still remained. His feet stumbled on the rough stones of this hillside quarry, and the summit of Lyssa’s Peak spun like a wheel of fortune in Adam’s blurry vision as the violet sky and bloodstained earth swapped places a couple times. But the singular goal of getting Ari and Nell out of here gave enough clarity for Adam to push back the impending blackout for a little while longer. 

He began to back away from Layla and Alcher towards the abandoned quarry’' ruined entrance, the only way out Adam could handle in his condition. He held the survival knife, a short utilitarian thing ill suited to holding off a supernatural predator, clutched in bloody-knuckled grip and pointed it towards the three legged wolf. 

“Nell, Ari,” he shouted hoarsely, “we gotta get outta here!” He motioned towards Penelope, making a stubborn but dubiously effective attempt to cover her escape away from Alcher.

Layla let her nose lead her forward, but she was confused by the scent. For the briefest of moments she thought she had sensed the right version of Adam and pushed forward, but guessed wrong and hit the ground in a lunging attack that left her stunned. Again. She had failed as she slowly came to her senses and watched as Adam backed away, his focus mainly on Alcher, proving that not even an injured hunter found her a threat.

She was sure she would hear an earful later from both Alcher and Ariana, if Ariana could even forgive her and any hope of still being in Nell’s good graces had gone out the door.

Anger was the only thing left. Even as pain ripped through Alcher’s body as her bone snapped. Even as Ariana’s body collided into hers. With a swift motion, even from the ground, Alcher turned her claws on Ariana. She smacked her square across the face and stood as much as her limbs would allow her, snarling angrily at the younger wolf, golden eyes piercing her. She raised a paw and smacked her again, shoving her away. Challenging her. Would she leave with the hunter and his witch? Or would she tuck her tail in shame and stay? The hunter was retreating, as well as his witch. They were wounded. But as Alcher looked around for Layla, she found that they, too, were injured beyond movement. It was time to retreat. They would finish this another day. Dying here was senseless, not when the hunter still walked.

They would find him later, when he was alone. And Alcher would let Layla finish it herself. He was weakened, she could sense it, and he couldn’t hold on much longer. He would be alone at some point, and they’d be waiting. 

Alcher hoisted herself up with her front paws and dragged her dangling, broken leg behind her as she made her way over to Layla. She gave the three retreating forms a glare and let them know that they could leave for now, but that this was not over, before looking to Layla. She had done good. She would be rewarded. Despite the droop in her shoulders and the tensing of her body, she had proven today that she was a real wolf. That was enough for Alcher.

Perhaps the claws colliding with her face shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Ariana. Even if she’d made an effort to not hurt anyone here, she had stood in the way of what they considered to be justice. Still, she snarled as the claws hit her face only to be met by another hit to the face. The gesture itself somehow stung more than the actual wound. It had never occurred to her that Alcher would use considerable force on her and it hurt more than she anticipated. She growled lowly, backing away, but making it clear she wasn’t going to let any further harm come to Adam or Nell. She could hear Adam in the back suggesting retreat and she was thankful for that. The last thing she wanted was for anyone here to die and if they kept going, she knew that’s what the end result would be. 

Alcher seemed to be directing Layla to follow her away. There was no fully relaxing with the energy of Lyssa’s Peak influencing her and though Layla and Alcher were now off in the distance, the wolf in her craved something more. The smell of blood in the air was a bit overwhelming and she honed in on some shuffling in the brush. Without thought, she lunged forward and dug into the rabbit. It wasn’t quite enough to satiate her appetite, but it was enough to take the edge off. A few deep breaths later, she slipped back into her more human looking form. She glanced around the clearing for her abandoned bag and was quick to grab it before slipping into the quarry. 

“We need to patch both of you up,” she directed as she kept a close ear out for their surroundings, “And I should probably throw on a change of clothes.” She threw on a t-shirt and gym shorts but kept her feet bare as she went over to Adam who had taken a brunt of the beating. She cleaned him up the best she could, but she’d need better lighting if she was going to attempt anything more serious like stitches. “We need to get him back to one of our places. Is your wrist okay?” 

Nell wasn’t sure what to make of the way Adam seemed to crumble in on himself. She’d seen him fight before, watched as he managed to bounce back from shoving his arm down a lamia’s throat. So where was that strength now? Something was wrong, but she couldn’t quite manage to put her finger on it. Retreating wasn’t something that came naturally to Nell, but even she could see that they’d done what they came here to do. Adam was safe if not battered and the same could be said for Ariana. Now what mattered most was getting out of the quarry with their lives so that they might heal. 

While Ariana changed, Nell went to work on Adam as well— recognizing that he was in much more danger than she at the moment, the claw marks running deep and long. Calling on her magic she prioritized the wounds that looked most serious, scabbing them enough to at least staunch the flow of blood loss, but building new flesh to cover them was beyond her abilities. “It’s gonna be okay,” she said almost reflexively, though she wasn’t sure if the words were meant for her friends, herself, or both. Ariana’s question hung in the air as she thought of her wrist for the first time since it had been bitten, and her stomach dropped even further towards the ground beneath her knees as she knelt to continue her healing alongside Ariana’s work. She’d been bitten. Bitten by a werewolf, and that meant— Nell promptly shut the door on that train of thought, refusing to let it hinder her in these moments when what was most important was making sure the three of them were alright. Instead she answered the werewolf’s question with another. “Are you alright?” The last blow the other wolf had gotten in had looked nasty. “Mine’s closest, and I have more healing stuff there, too.”

With the three of them huddled there beyond the shadowing peak of Lyssa, Nell forced herself to focus on what they’d succeeded at for the moment being, knowing this wasn’t the time to be weak with dread. No one was dead. The fight hadn’t been won, and blood had been spilled, but for these few moments they’d managed to stop the cycle of killing, and shoved a wrench into the murderous dance of Hunter and supernatural that had been fought since before either side could remember. So though the day was lost, perhaps they’d won another in its place.