#anyways i’ll get around to fully fleshing out this au later i have many thoughts

[mapletine]

witch hat atelier thistle design

+ additional notes below the cut :) //cw blood

[quickspinner]

Month of Miracles Day 5 - Decoration

Find the prompt list here!

I have meddled with powers I did not fully understand and now the Hallmark AU has gripped me. I think you can expect to see more of this sprinkled throughout the month. Oh, well. Multiparters in prompt months are like a tradition for me now, right? 

Hallmark Movie AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9  | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 (end) | Read Month of Miracles on AO3

Imagine, Marinette thought as she helped Rose unpack the decorations and ornaments to go on the tree, Luke Stone in a town like this. 

Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t heard of him releasing anything new recently. So he was from this town, then? He must be on vacation, visiting his family and helping out at the farm. Taking a break, maybe writing some new songs. Funny, to think of the glammed up, heavily bedazzled rock star wearing flannel and working on a Christmas tree farm.

Marinette had winced the day before, watching him tear up his palms hauling the tree she’d picked out yesterday and tie it down deftly with fingers that had to be worth millions of dollars. It pained her to think of the hands that had created such beautiful music being abused in such a way. Surely he should have been wearing gloves, at least. He’d been so cold to her, though, that Marinette hadn’t dared suggest it or question him.

She’d been skeptical when Jagged Stone’s son had made his debut on tour alongside his father. She’d been a longtime fan of the older Stone and didn’t think even his own flesh and blood would be able to match him—but the younger Stone hadn’t tried. Luke’s music was clearly influenced by his father, but was also entirely his own, but so evocative, so emotional, she had been pulled in despite her reservations. She owned every one of Luke Stone’s albums, including the special edition greatest hits album, which she had bought even as she complained to Alya that he was too young in his career to be releasing a greatest hits album.

Marinette hadn’t said much to Rose about the encounter, not sure whether it was common knowledge amongst the town that he was here, and not wanting to infringe on his privacy if it wasn’t. Rose had given her a funny (disappointed?) look when she mentioned the grumpy young man that had helped her, but hadn’t said anything about it, just asked Marinette to come back today and give her a hand decorating the tree after the maintenance staff got it set up.

It wasn’t as if Marinette had much else to do, and Gina’s house felt huge and empty with just her in it, so she’d agreed, and here she was unpacking dusty boxes that had been hauled out of storage. She sighed as she surveyed the contents. The boxes looked like they’d been packed up by unsupervised five-year-olds last year. 

She was sorting the decorations into piles, still absently pondering the mystery of Luke Stone, when the library doors slid open, and the man himself walked in. He was dressed much the same as he had been yesterday, in layers that hid the muscular shoulders and arms he displayed on stage. Before Marinette could react, Rose flitted past her. 

“Luka!” Rose squealed, throwing herself at him. “You’re here!” Luka staggered slightly but wrapped one arm around her waist to catch her, holding her with her feet dangling off the ground as she kissed both his cheeks, her arms wrapped around his neck. Marinette stared, mouth hanging open slightly.

“That was enthusiastic,” Luka laughed, looking down at the petite blond hanging off of his tall frame. 

“I’m happy to see you!” Rose smiled brightly. 

“You just saw me at dinner last night.” Luka bent his knees and set her on the ground. Rose took the hint and let him go, but bounced on the balls of her feet. “And I told you I’d come, he added.”

“And now you’re here!” Rose threw out her arms. “I’m so glad! I have so much to do to get the childrens’ program ready and the decorations are so much for poor Marinette to manage by herself! Have you met Marinette?” she inquired, turning and holding out her arms to present her friend. Marinette closed her mouth and tried to smile as she gave a little wave. “I think you did,” Rose continued, turning to give him a warning look. “I think she said she ran into you at the farm.” 

Luka felt embarrassment creeping up his neck at Rose’s clearly scolding look. He nodded at Marinette. “Briefly, yeah. Nice to see you, Marinette.” He pronounced her name carefully, feeling bad about teasing her yesterday. She smiled a little more, and then looked down, her hands fluttering around the decorations she’d been separating. 

“You can get the lights on the tree while Marinette finishes working out that stuff,” Rose suggested, pointing to a pile of lights sitting near Marinette. “You’re nice and tall, so that should make things easy. There’s step stools in the kids’ area if you need them. Come here and I’ll show you what I want.” She hooked his arm and pulled him around to the far side of the tree. “The plug’s over here, so you’ll need to start on this side.” 

As soon as they were out of sight, Rose slapped his arm. “Dummy!” she scolded in a whisper. “I didn’t send her to the farm so you could be mean.”

“I wasn’t mean,” Luka protested weakly, and then frowned. “What do you mean, you sent her?” He gave his not-quite-sister a suspicious look, and then leaned slightly to look around the tree and make sure they were out of earshot. 

He paused. Marinette had been cute yesterday in her puffy pink coat and earmuffs, but he hadn’t really had time to notice her. Now she looked trendy but comfortable in pigtails and a soft pink sweater over skinny jeans, her profile turned to him. She was an authentic kind of pretty, he reflected, but then Luka had found himself thinking that about a lot of people since he’d left the rock star world, where everybody wore layers of stage makeup, styled and coiffed and dressed so that every detail about them enhanced the image they wanted to project. 

Still, her full lips made a pretty bow, especially when she pouted them slightly in concentration, and her hair had a shine that came from health rather than product, and her eyes were—

Rose’s elbow in his ribs jolted him out of what must have been a pretty intense stare, and he flushed, leaning back slightly so he couldn’t see Marinette on the other side of the tree.

“She already thinks you’re mean,” Rose hissed. “Don’t be a creep on top of it.”

Luka winced. He didn’t need Rose’s reminder to feel guilty for behaving so abruptly yesterday. Already prickly from a morning of needling by his mother, he hadn’t been prepared for anyone to recognize him. No one had up until this point, and he’d thought he was safe. It was an unpleasant shock to have a stranger recognize him, especially someone from the city who might carry word of his presence here back to the press. His mother’s call had sounded like his guardian angel’s trumpet in that moment. When Juleka had called him to help tie her chosen tree on top of her car, he’d done the work quickly and silently, and avoided her gaze as much as possible. 

He’d felt bad about it later, when he’d had time to relax and reflect, but he hadn’t expected to see her again—certainly hadn’t expected to have Rose practically throwing her at him. He gave her a warning look. 

Rose opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Marinette popped around the side of the tree. “Rose, do you have some scissors anywhere?”

“Yes, in the cabinet behind the desk,” Rose said, pointing. “Probably on the top three shelves, there’s a box of craft supplies there. You might as well bring over the whole thing in case you need anything else. Let me know if it’s too high up and I’ll send Luka to grab them instead.”

“Got it,” Marinette smiled, and turned to follow Rose’s directions. 

Luka shot Rose a glare. “Quit it,” he warned. 

“Quit what?” Rose inquired, with a blink and head tilt that made her look like she didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. 

Luka knew better. 

“I don’t need any help, Rose,” Luka muttered, folding his arms. “I could find a relationship on my own if I wanted to.” 

“Mmhm,” Rose hummed in a disbelieving tone. “Because there’s so many to choose from here in this little town.” 

Luka rolled his eyes and didn’t reply. 

“I do like Marinette though,” Rose said, and smiled innocently when Luka gave her a look. “She’s really sweet. We only met a couple of days ago and here she is, bending over backward to get me a real tree and spending her time decorating it.”

“You set her up,” Luka accused, peeking around the tree briefly to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet.  “You’re trying to set me up.”

“She’s so creative,” Rose sighed. “She showed me some of her portfolio the other day, and it’s fantastic. She’s a fashion designer, you see.” 

Luka snorted. “Oh, yeah, she’ll totally fall for me. Without my stylist I’m a fashion disaster and you know it Rose.” 

“That just makes you a challenge,” Rose chirped, and then softened a little as she looked at him. “Look, I know you’re not looking right now, but that’s a stupid attitude to have when an amazing person just drops into your lap.” She tossed her head in a move he was sure she’d picked up from Juleka, though it was less effective without Juleka’s mane to accent it. “I should know. Anyway, do what you want, I just think she’s neat and I wanted you to meet her. I’ve got a good feeling about her. If I’d met her two years ago I’d totally steal her from you. If you’re smart, you’ll keep an open mind.” 

Luka sighed, but he saw a flicker of pink and when he glanced around the tree again, Marinette was back, the box of supplies at her side. She was lifting a large tinsel garland from the box she’d just opened, only to find it was all a tangled mass. There was a sort of mournful look on her face, a little droop of sadness, maybe even loneliness, to her shoulders. He remembered the tightness in her eyes and around her mouth yesterday, and the way she’d spilled out her reason for being here at the slightest nudge. A fashion designer—that was a cutthroat business, especially in the city. Poor thing was probably as tired and strung out as he’d been when he came home.  

He wasn’t even aware he’d sighed until Rose giggled at his elbow. “I think you can figure the lights out on your own,” she said with a little pat to his arm. “I’m going to get back to getting ready for the children’s program. You two just...have fun, okay? Make it festive!” She fluttered her hands at the tree, then waved at Marinette and abandoned him to the awkwardness. 

It didn’t take long to get the lights on the tree—Luka had plenty of practice after getting the farm set up for the season. He stood there for a moment, hesitating. He glanced at Marinette. She had finished the sorting and was back to struggling with the tangled garland, and the look of utter defeat on her face...hurt, somehow.  

“Can I give you a hand?” Luka found himself offering. 

Marinette started slightly, and in an instant her shoulders went back and her smile flashed back into being. Luka was surprised to realize that it didn’t feel fake, despite the fact that he had seen her feelings on her face just a moment before. She was hiding those feelings now, but the smile she offered him was as sincere as the sadness. 

“Um, sure, if you want to,” she said, holding up the garland in two hands. “It’s pretty twisted up. We could just leave it, but...might as well give it a shot, right?” 

Luka took a handful of garland, and Marinette took another one farther down. They moved apart, spreading it out as far as it could go between them to try and see where it twisted back on itself. 

“This looks like the end,” Marinette muttered, plucking at a piece. “Can you just hold it up for a minute?”

Luka did, watching Marinette as she looped the end she’d found back over and under and through the glittering mass. The silence was awkward, and the more Luka tried to think of something to say, the more he felt like there was only one thing he could say. 

“Listen, I wanted to apologize—” he began as Marinette said, “Luka, I’m really sorry—” 

They both stopped, and laughed, and Luka gestured for her to go ahead. 

“I just,” Marinette pushed her hair back and glanced at him, then looked away. “I wanted to apologize for blurting that out about—you know—I should have thought, I should have realized you wouldn’t want to be approached like that, while you’re clearly not working—well, you were working, but not, not like that and I should have—well. I’m really sorry. You’re at home and you probably don’t want people gushing all over you while you’re trying to spend time with your family.”

Luka took a breath, looking at the floor for a moment. “I wanted to apologize too, for being so abrupt with you. I...hadn’t had the best morning, and you did startle me. I’m...well, I guess you could maybe say I’m retired, and I’d rather not be...known, here. I guess I kind of panicked.”

“Retired?” Marinette looked up at him in surprise. “But your music was so good! I mean—” She flushed, and grabbed the garland, moving to start draping it around the tree. “I really liked it, anyway. Sorry, I know it’s not my business...Anyway, I understand, and I won’t tell anyone I met you here.” The garland she was trying to place slipped off, and she sighed in frustration. “I swear Christmas hates me,” she muttered to herself.

Luka picked up the trailing end and held it so that the weight was no longer dragging. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.” 

“Of course,” Marinette smiled, and then she said, “How long have you and Rose been together?” This time the garland stayed where she placed it, with Luka feeding her more as she circled around the tree. 

“Together?” Luka repeated, startled. “We’re not together. She’s dating my sister, actually. In fact if they’re not engaged by New Years I’ll be shocked.” 

Marinette’s head whipped around to look at him. “O-oh. Oh! Oh, I understand now.” She flushed. “Just, before—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Luka grinned. “I can see how that would look if you didn’t know.”  

“Wow, how off base was I, though,” Marinette giggled. “So your family’s from around here? I—oh, that sounded nosy didn’t it, I’m sorry, I swear I’m just trying to make small talk.”

“I’m not offended,” Luka chuckled. “Actually my family just moved here a few years ago. When my mom bought the tree farm I thought it was just another one of her crazy whims and she’d move on to something else before long, but she seems really happy here. What about your grandma? Gina doesn’t seem like the small town type, either.”

The conversation flowed comfortably from there, as they finished the garland and moved on to the other decorations. Marinette didn’t ask him any more questions about his music, and he carefully steered clear of asking her any questions about why she’d come—or been sent—down to their little town, and faster than Luka could have expected, they were closing up the empty boxes and stacking them to the side to be returned to storage. Marinette had a good eye, Luka had to admit as he looked at the tree. Not surprising, he supposed, but it did look a lot nicer than the previous year’s tree. Not only that, Marinette had arranged the extra decorations on the library desk in a pretty little display, and with his help, had even trimmed the windows with some icicle lights they found at the bottom of one of the boxes. Luka knelt to plug in the last set of lights, and when they were on, the whole library screamed holiday cheer to an almost obnoxious degree.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, Rose appeared behind him. 

“Wow, look at this place, it’s awesome! Everything looks great! You two make a fantastic team!” She grinned at Luka, and he raised his eyebrows at her in warning. “Everything is so festive,” Rose went on, clearly ignoring him, as she laid a thoughtful finger to her lips and examined them, “except for you two. You’re ruining the mood.” 

Faster than Luka could track she whipped something out and stuck it to his forehead, then turned and did the same to Marinette. Only when he saw the bright blue gift bow stuck to Marinette’s forehead did he realize what Rose had just done to them, and he rolled his eyes as he reached up to touch the bow on his own forehead. Rose swatted his hand away and then grabbed his arm, hauling at him until he had no choice but to stand up or fall over.

“There, now you’re properly decorated too,” Rose beamed. “All right, you two have spent all morning helping me, so get out of here and go do something fun! It’s such a pretty day!”

“Rose, it’s freezing,” Luka tried to say, but Rose was already pushing them towards the door, and he gave into the inevitability of it all with a sigh. 

“Go down to the café, have lunch on my tab, both of you,” she ordered, dumping their coats in Luka’s arms before shoving them out of the door. “Thanks for all your help!” she called, waving at them as the doors slid closed.

“Real subtle,” Luka grumbled, reaching up to peel the bow off his forehead as he turned to face Marinette. That was a mistake, because the way her mouth was pursed in a little moue as she worked to remove her own bow was kind of adorable.

Damnit, Rose.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

[salenakingston]

Mystery March Day 24 - Fear

(How about another gift fic? This one is for @clownsuu‘s Yandere!Lewis. What an interesting portrayal of Lewis and the dynamic between him and Arthur, and also perfect for this prompt. I saw that there were no other published works for this little au spin, so I hope you like it! <3)

The fall should have killed him. Whether it had been a surprise or not, Lewis’ motivations were made clear with one small act. Hunt down the man that ruined his life, recreate the location of his demise, and then drop him in the same manner he perished in. But something was wrong. Arthur’s reaction had been unexpected… Shock. How?

And he was still falling. A heart, dark and shattered, the illusion being brushed away. The ringing of the shotgun bringing it all to an end… at least for this one moment. The danger hadn’t retreated just because the spires were gone. There was still the plant woman with a sword in the shape of giant sheers, and even when that was taken care of, their once friend had turned against them.

If there was one thing this made the ghost realize it was that there was more to the story of his death. Well, maybe there were two things. Between the possession, the danger brought about by the ghost’s own hands, and prior experience, it was that Arthur was a magnet for danger. Well, to be fair, all of them were, but the blonde more than any of them. The rest of them had a means of protecting themselves.

Fire for the ghost, ice for the bluenette, and a secret form for the ‘dog.’ What did Arthur have? He had intelligence, creating rather than fighting. Even in a fight, he ran more than throwing a punch.

Perhaps it was that conclusion that caused Lewis to follow his former best friend. He had come back to the group, all of them working to adjust to one another. Tension ran between them, especially between the two men. This wasn’t unexpected considering the circumstances around their situations. The ghost held his attention on the metal arm, having been one of the other changes to the blonde’s life. The greatest thing taken away from his once friend, and only fueled the new goal to make sure nothing else happened to him.

Anytime there was a choice to split up, Lewis insisted on going with Arthur. It was one of the most unpredictable decisions of their new dynamic. This new desire to make sure the blonde remained safe was a bit strange, but no one saw a reason to argue against it. If anything, Vivi and Mystery saw this as a good opportunity for Lewis and Arthur to rebond. Even the blonde seemed on board with this plan the more times he was placed in the ghost’s care.

Everything was going fine except for one problem.

The blonde was still not entirely safe.

He could use his powers to protect him, but he couldn’t always account for stray targets moving for him, or what the outcome would be if his partner decides to run rather than stick around for his protection. More over was the danger he couldn’t protect the man from when they were on their downtime. There was no denying that Arthur had his problems, ones Lewis got to see first hand; and even though they were getting better, there were still moments when they would creep up.

What was he meant to do about these? Kind words of encouragement didn’t seem to do much.

Arthur had to admit that things were starting to go from alright to a little uncomfortable. There was quite the difference from endearing worry to hovering over him. Even when asking for a little more space, he could swear the feeling of someone watching him was always lingering. It was hard to find a reason as to why this was happening. Why would Lewis change so much? Sure, he was glad the two of them reconciled on past events, but then why was the ghost continuing to hang so close?

The best he could do for now was ignore it.

Lewis was hatching other plans.

Truthfully, he wasn’t entirely sure what brought on this new drive to make sure his blonde friend was safe. Perhaps out of guilt over nearly bringing death over a misunderstanding? Perhaps now seeing just how much risk this one friend was putting himself in? The way this friend was destroying himself when it seemed like no one was looking? In life, he would have done anything to make sure his best friend was taken care of.

Now that relations were repairing, why should he stop that promise?

The ghost found himself in the blonde’s room one night, watching the way he tossed and turned. It hurt watching the way his face scrunched up, sometimes having tears fall from his eyes. Large hands and arms wrapped around the man’s trembling frame. Arthur’s body seemed to turn towards his chest, making the ghost hold him closer. This had to stop.

He floated through the door, leaving the blonde’s home, and made his way towards a familiar mansion.

When he woke the next morning, it wasn’t hard to tell something was wrong. He looked around, confused as to why there was so much purple in his room. The more he woke up, the more a certain fact clicked in his head. This wasn’t his room. His work table was gone, and this room was far too clean to be his own. Even so, he knew where he was.

And this was confirmed when the ghost walked through the door, “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Lew? What happened? Why am I here in the mansion?”

“I brought you here.”

“Well yeah… I got that, but why?”

There was a long pause. That was something that made the blonde uneasy. Why did something about this feel so wrong about this? Lewis finally spoke again, “You were having a nightmare. I thought you might be better here. You did seem to calm down some when I did.”

“Oh… thanks Lew.”

“I’m making some breakfast if you’d like it.”

“Yeah… that sounds nice…”

The ghost disappeared, leaving the mechanic all on his own. He could see a set of his usual clothes resting on the dresser. Did Lewis think of everything? The only missing aspect in this room were many pieces of metal and papers with detailed blueprints across the floor. He pushed himself out of bed, changed, and made his way to where he remembered the kitchen being. Sure enough, there was the suit-wearing ghost, plating up breakfast. He managed a smile, “Hey Lew. I’ll have to go to work after this. Did you happen to bring the van with you?”

“Oh, no I didn’t. I guess I could get you to Kingsmen.” Two plates were set down, a chair pulled out for the blonde friend.

Arthur took a seat, looking at the amount on the plate in front of him. It was far more than he usually ate. Maybe he should have expected this. After all, it was the Pepper cooking. This was normal. He reached for his fork, starting, “Yeah? I would appreciate that.”

Lewis didn’t like how some of his food was going to waste. It got to one point where the blonde was just pushing it around. That was something he would have to work on. Guess he couldn’t exactly force the man to eat. The noise was starting to grate on both of them, a good sign that it was time to go. He held his end of the promise, taking his friend to his workplace, though turned invisible rather than leaving.

He couldn’t leave. He had to make sure everything was going to be alright.

As the day went on, the more antsy the ghost was becoming. It was true his friend slept a little better, but that didn’t fully change his fatigued state. There were still circles under his eyes, lack of sleep and nightmares were the direct cause. It didn’t help that since the cave, he’d grown a tendency to stay up far later than normal working on one of his many projects. Sometimes it wasn’t even the same one. Just another problem to fix for his safety.

Speaking of his safety, or rather it was the lack of this which was causing the unwanted visitor to become increasingly worried. Accidental injury was not uncommon here, and just because it happened to the metal arm rather than his flesh one didn’t change the fact that it was dangerous. Imagine what would be done if it was still flesh…

No, he didn’t like that image, and the more it sank in, the more he hated it. This had to be fixed too.

By the end of the day, Arthur had begun to walk home, seeing as his ride was still not here. His uncle could probably give him one, but why bother him with that? His eyes popped open when he felt himself being lifted off the ground, a pang of fear racing through him, “Whaaa?”

“It’s just me Artie.”

“Oh Lew. Are you taking me home?”

“Yeah.” Sort of.

He was flying in the direction of the mansion. That wasn’t home. The blonde dared a small pull on the sleeve of the suit, “Umm.. Lew, my home is the other way.” But Lewis ignored him. Ignored him.It was so off putting, one that made worry strike. He tried again, “Lew?” Once again ignored.

Lewis knew what he had to do. He had to keep Arthur safe. He wasn’t safe at Kingsmen. When they returned to the mansion, the ghost promptly took his friend to his room, and sat him down on the bed. He turned around, floating towards the door, “It’s been a long day. You should try and get some rest. I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Lew!”

The door shut, a distinct click following it. Lewis actually locked him in.

The blonde began to tremble. What was happening to his best friend? Did something happen at one of their jobs that changed him like this? Maybe Vivi would know something that could lift whatever was causing the ghost to behave so strangely. Ok, then all he had to do was make it to tomorrow. He’d be off from work anyways for their usual going out days.

Sure enough, Lewis came back, but whatever appetite that might have been there was gone. His head turned away, “I think I may just go to bed, Lew. I’m not really hungry.” There it was again, this strange habit of not eating anything. Magenta on black narrowed pushing the plate towards his friend. He had to eat something, “Eat Arthur.”

There was that fear coming back for the blonde. The tone of voice… so commanding. It was as if he put a hidden threat behind those words. Swallowing silently, he took the plate, working to push past the sick feeling in his stomach so that he could eat, even if that meant releasing it all once the ghost left. Which he wasn’t doing. He was watching him eat.

When the plate was nearly empty, he offered it back to his friend, “I really can’t eat anymore Lew, I’m sorry.”

Lewis looked it over, apparently satisfied enough to give a nod, “Alright. Get some sleep then Arthur.”

Lewis might have left right after that, but the feeling of being watched continued to linger through the room for the entire night.

The next morning was not that surprising, almost a repeat of the last morning and night in the mansion. He was expected to eat, no matter how much he didn’t want to, or how sick it seemed to make him. When prompting the idea to go into town, at least the ghost seemed to be alright with the idea… so long as he could come with. Actually, that might not be a bad idea. He’d get the chance to see Vivi and Mystery again. Maybe it would be something all of them needed.

Lewis was a little on edge. He’d changed his form back into his old look, sunglasses to cover his eyes so no one would suspect his true condition. Anyone around them could be a danger. He kept his watch. It wasn’t until Tomb Tome came into view that worry spiked again. He shouldn’t be. He knew who would be here. Vivi and Mystery. His love, their mascot.

One of them was a liar. The one that ripped Arthur’s arm off in the first place.

Ok, so he had to keep Arthur away from Mystery, but Vivi couldn’t possibly be unsafe. But then what about all of the blonde’s habits? Why didn’t she help him? Surely they wouldn’t have spiraled as much as they had at the start of this whole mess. She should have done more.

If she wasn’t much help then, then what help would she be now/ She couldn’t keep Arthur safe. Neither one of them could.

Arthur appeared to be picking up the pace, especially when it looked like the bluenette was about to make her way out the door. Without much thought, the ghost took a hold of the metal wrist, knowing he’d be able to hold it harder than his real one, dragging his friend away. This was a mistake. They had to go back to the mansion, even if that meant dragging the blonde all the way back like this.

When they did finally return, Arthur tugged harder on the metallic limb, finally getting it free. Amber eyes narrowed to his friend, “What the hell Lewis? Why did we leave?! They were right there!!” Once again, the ghost didn’t say anything. Why should he? Why didn’t Arthur understand everything was being done for his safety. He was the only one that could keep him safe. Instead of giving an answer, he took hold of the wrist again, pulling his friend back towards his room. He gently sat him down, feeling the trembling his friend was producing. It would be alright. He’d stop soon and see his best friend was just trying to help him.

All it took was time.

And nothing seemed to get better. If anything, it got worse.

If Arthur feared the Lewis that was gunning him down in an effort to end his life, then this one was far more terrifying. One small step out of line and there was no telling what the ghost would do.

When he tried to escape out the window, Lewis at first boarded it up, but then made it disappear completely upon other multiple attempts. The ghost had been kind enough to transfer over the blonde’s workspace, tools, and materials, if only to give him something to do while in his room. With said tools, Arthur had tried picking the lock on the door, but with no success. Whenever he was allowed out of his room, Lewis stuck to him like glue.

He’d tried to run before, having gotten a better idea of the mansion’s layout, but the front doors were always locked, and before he could reach a window, a chill was sent down his spine, feeling another soul dancing with his’ inside his body. Possession. Of anyone present to learn the truth of the cave, he would think the ghost would understand the most what fear came with this feeling. His body moving on its own. If he could shriek, he would.

Every time the ghost resorted to such a measure, it left the blonde trembling beyond reason, digging up memories he wished would be buried forever.

Meals and sleep were not any better. Lewis was constantly cooking for him, and when he wasn’t feeling hungry, or couldn’t eat everything on his plate, he was forced to finish. Sometimes it would be through possession, but other times, more drastic measures were taken. When it came to sleep, well there wasn’t any. Even the nightmares were preferable than having the ghost watching him all night. The only times he did seem to be sleeping were when he had no other choice than to pass out from sheer exhaustion. Every time he woke up, he would find himself tucked in bed, the ghost never too far away.

How long has this been going on now? Months? To be honest, the blonde was losing track, and the fear growing inside of him wasn’t ever going down. He had to confront Lewis about this or nothing was going to change.

Sure enough, the moment he was allowed out of his room, the ghost was there. Fear was holding him back from speaking. No, he had to do this.

“Lewis.”

“Yeah Artie?” That nickname.

“Lewis, this has to stop.”

Both of them stood still, the ghost falling silent. His arms crossed. This wasn’t going to stop. He was the only one able to keep the blonde safe. No one else. Anyone he previously might have trusted became nothing more than another resident of Tempo. There was no connection to them, not even the once love of his life.

“Lewis!” Oh, he must have gotten lost in thought.

“Lewis listen to me!” He turned his back on his friend.

“What are you planning to do with me?! Keep me locked up til I die?! What about Vivi?! Or Lance?!” Silence.

“Are you even listening to me?!”

Oh, he was listening alright. When the ghost turned back around, fear was coursing through the blonde’s body. He’d done what he needed to do, and now it was Lewis’ turn to correct this. He ran.

The ghost was never far behind, and once caught up, a very familiar chill ran over the fear. Lewis had possessed him again. Rather than walking him back to his room, or somewhere else in the mansion, his body stood perfectly still. Arthur’s soul was trembling, but soon felt an embrace. A terrified wail echoed around him, a small ‘shhhh’ following it. As if that was supposed to calm him down. A voice was heard, but it didn’t put him at any ease.

“Don’t worry Artie. You’re safe with me.”

[takrat]

I hope its okay that ive stolen snazzy-suit's name for this... I wanna go ahead and share my take on the District 9 AU. Oh yeah spoilers for the movie

Irken/child shippers DNI (yes dib is older in this au but z*drs do not fucking interact)

District Doom AU notes under cut:

So its not a perfect parallel of the movie but roughly here are the character parallels: Dib is Wikus (son of Prof. Membrane the founder of PEG labs--"MNU" who's primary goal is researching the aliens for SCIENCE! and Dib desperately wants to be a part of it), Zim is Christopher (former Irken Scientist and lead Invader of his squad in Impending Doom I who were aboard the Massive before catastrophe hit), Gir is Oliver 😊, Skoodge is Paul aka the alien that gets shot early on in the movie but don't worry he's okay now, Gaz is here but idk she's just vibing on her own, oh that assistant guy to Wikus? Uhmm probably gonna be Dwicky or something

After an encounter with a Florpus Hole, the Massive is seriously messed up and finds its way to Earth, hovering over a miserable city, miserably out of fuel with dozens of miserable Irkens aboard. Its systems are horribly damaged so there is no contacting Irk for help.

At the very oldest Dib is 19 and the Irkens have been there for around 20 years, possibly only 15 or so?

Because the Massive's systems are all offline, theres no online PAK charging stations--after about ~20 years, the Irkens with standard issue PAKs are growing weak and dying off (Zim has an Invader's PAK--his charge can last much longer)

The Tallests are there basically in hiding. Purple hates earth donuts.

Dib is put in charge of Operation Eviction, moving the Irkens to a new district further away from the city because they are just so fucking ANNOYING nobody can stand them--while this isn't what he wants, he still goes with it because he hopes to study the aliens up close. It'll be the first time he's been allowed in District D--not just snuck in as a kid and either got kicked out by security or almost blown up

Zim and Skoodge have been collecting fluid from scattered Irken technology for many years, fuel for the Massive so that they may return to Irk and send aid (and also come back and destroy Earth)

Commence chaos and commotion--Dib finds himself with a dead Irken's PAK attached to his chest that is slowly turning him into an Irken. and also he confiscated the fuel which was taken to high security PEG labs

I cant believe they fucking killed skoodge

PEG doesn't have a large focus on alien weaponry like in the movie (they do have some, but studying the aliens and their tech in the name SCIENCE! is their whole deal)

Dib and Zim clash and have to end up working together. Dib is able to get them into PEG labs to get the fuel, Zim can get the PAK safely detached from Dib without killing him and reverse the side effects once they get aboard the Massive. There's a lot more character development and friendship that i just don't have the brain power to work out right now

Unfortunately Prof. Membrane is a bit less redeemable in this au.. hes more antagonistic but I really don't want to fuck my man up too bad cus I really like this guy. Hes not horrible, but he does see whats happening to Dib and wants to study him, reasonably though I think that comes across as very scary to Dib and he freaks out. So not entirely sure why Dib has to run away and seek refuge in District D, but I think he's just scared? Miscommunications with him and Prof. I'll flesh it out later whatever

They go to the Tallests' little hideout and Zim tells them his plan for saving them all.. they think he's crazy but send him and Dib off with some cool gear (probably hoping he'll end up killed or captured by PEG labs).

Zim is outcasted among the stranded Irkens because he's generally assumed to have caused the Florpus hole (yea it was him), but he's been desperately trying to prove himself and make up for it (and hes really the only one with any initiative to save them and return to Irk--everyone else is too stupid, hopeless, or cowardly).

They break in whatever. end up running into Skoodge who's kind of just been chilling in the labs and going through some boring experiments

"Skoodge? I thought the humans killed you" "Yeeeaahh but im okay now"

However, Skoodge exempt(?), there's been some Fucked up tests going on to captured Irkens and Zim is really angry and distraught. Dibs also freaked out--like yea he assumed the scientists were doing scary tests and in fact wanted to perform them, but actually seeing the results and how it effects Zim, and getting to know Zim and the Irkens as people, really snaps him to reality and how messed up what PEG labs is doing

Now this would be the end where Zim takes off in the Massive back to Irk and Dib ends up retreating to District D and ultimately transforming fully into an Irken.. but the au definitely doesn't end here. But I dont have the brain power to think any further. Let's see if District 10 ever really does come out like the directors promised

They get the fluid, escape, Zim gets the control module up and running God DAMMIT who is supposed to be that stupid bald military guy in this. That guy in the movie. Okay there's some guy ill figure it out later.

Zim was gonna just fix Dib up, leave him, and take off for Irk, but after finding out about what PEG labs has been doing with experimenting on his people, he has to use all of the fuel and get help as fast as he can, so Dib is left behind.

Anyway if anybody has any ideas im begging dont hesitate to share 🥺 ive also got a bunch of doodles for this? So if you think I should post them sometime let me know. I need to stop typing because my hands hurt now

[lovinga3characters]

hello! if i could request something kinda random, i was wondering if you could do a sakyo/izumi hanahaki disease au drabble or headcanons? this man is killing me with his dumbass tsundere antics and Hidden Pining -@cyrillean

MY DUDE I AM WEAK FOR HANAHAKI DISEASE STUFF 😭😭 Thank you for requesting one of my OTPs because it honestly fits the ship so well. This is the last part of a larger fic I might write but who knows 😗

Warnings: Hanahaki Disease, blood/vomit, unrequited (?) feelings, implied character death (?)

Hanahaki Disease SakyoIzu Drabble

“So... have you made a decision, dear?” His mother said, her face was neither grim nor hopeful, as if she already knew what his answer was going to be.

Sakyo wouldn’t be surprised if she did, this woman raised him after all. She knew more about him than even himself probably.

(Just like her. His lungs ached at the thought.)

“I have.” He replied brusquely, wanting to get the words out as swiftly as possible.

His mother was quiet for a few moments. “I’m glad then,” She says, not even asking. “If you can finally make a choice, then you must be doing alright.”

Her smile was genuine as she got up to leave. “I’ll be back later this week, honey. I love you.” Her voice seemed to strain just a bit.

”Drive safe, Mother. And stop bothering Fushimi about his recipes.” Sakyo huffed quickly as she walked out the hospital door.

Sakyo turned towards the window. He tried to take a deep breath but his chest felt heavy. How pathetic, he could barely even sigh in disappointment.

To his surprise, he heard footsteps coming closer, then stopping right at his door. How long had he been here, in this white room, to start thinking it was his?

“Mother, is that you? You didn’t forget anything-“ Sakyo began.

His heart skipped a beat, his heart stopped, his heart sped up, his heart raced rapidly.

It was Izumi, standing right by the doorway, as if afraid to step closer to him. He doesn’t blame her, he doesn’t have a mirror, but he could feel himself wilting away.

(It’s really her in the flesh, not a restless dream, not a hopeless wish. Not just flawless white skin, flawless pink lips, and flawless red cheeks. She’s just like his memories, just like how he remembers.)

Izumi’s normal, bright eyes were brimmed red, the bags underneath were at a darkness Sakyo had never seen, even during the harshest all-nighters. Her beautiful mouth quivered, her expression looking as surprised as he felt.

He’s never felt so much longing yet so much joy as he did in that brief moment when they made eye contact.

“Sakyo...” Izumi whispered, it seemed she wasn’t even aware that she spoke. Her voice was laced with a mixture of horror and wonder.

It made Sakyo want to laugh bitterly, if only he could. It made Sakyo want to embrace her, if only he could.

The petals tickled his throat and he swallowed quickly. Not now.

“It’s been some time.” He managed to say, fighting the urge to speak her name, fighting the urge to hurl.

His words seemed snap her out of whatever trace she was in. She was finally coming closer. The vines wanted to come up and reach out-

“I’m so sorry for not coming sooner.” Izumi said. “I would have brought something but I didn’t know if you could even handle eating my curry.” She continued, speaking hurriedly, her eyes flickering around the room nervously.

(‘Don’t apologize, I could handle your anything.’ He thought.)

“It’s alright, Director. I can manage.” Sakyo breathed out. Then he did it again, and again, and again-

“I know, but-“ Izumi started, then she cut herself off. She sat down across from him, where his mother sat a few mere minutes before. Her eyes seemed drawn to his desk, which had the many items the rest of the members of Mankai Company had brought to him over the weeks.

The silence stretched and strained, like a rubber band waiting to snap.

Sakyo broke first, as he often seemed to do around her. “Do you know who it is?” He asked instead of what he selfishly wanted to ask.

He wanted to know why she didn’t visit sooner, wanted to know how she was feeling at that very moment.

(He wanted to avoid what he had to do for just a little longer, wanted more time that knew he didn’t have.)

Izumi’s pale face became flushed and she hesitated. Then she shook her head.

(Oh, that was such a familiar color to him, white, pink, and red. His lungs were suddenly shot with pain, don’t, not now.)

Sakyo closed his eyes. He thought about Izumi’s expressions, so honest that she couldn’t even act with it. He was so lucky to see those expressions everyday, they all were so lucky.

He recalled the first and last day he saw her in his childhood, she barely changed at all even after time had passed. Her encouragement of his love for the stage stayed with him for so long, as did her happy laughter, they both rang in Sakyo’s ears.

They had twisted his fate like a growing stem, turning his life around, and making him bloom in ways Sakyo hadn’t believed was possible for him. The warmth of their friendships, the mutual love for acting, he was so grateful to her for letting him earn those.

It was all so like her and it was all so special to him. His eyes felt wet.

Sakyo smiled, “I love you, I always have.”

Then he lets it all go, throwing up so violently there’s a flood of white, pink, and dripping red. His lungs seized and he couldn’t do anything but gasp and cough. Sakyo was no longer just spitting out petals, it was all flowers, fully bloomed.

(Izumi was saying something, desperately shouting. Sakyo thinks she’s either screaming for help or for him to hang on, to stay awake.)

He can’t hear over the fuzzy rush of blood to his head, the blood that trickled down the corners of his mouth and flowed out the cuts of his throat.

Sakyo’s vision is blurry with tears but that’s probably for the best, his glasses fell off when he hunched over anyway.

(Despite that, he could tell that she was sobbing, maybe she was trying to cry out that she loved him too.)

The pain is intense, Sakyo felt like he was being ripped apart. He couldn’t breathe, yet the feeling started to numb, the sensation spread up his arms to his neck and into his face.

(Izumi held his stained hands tightly, he couldn’t feel it. The world began blending together, the white of the hospital walls, the pink of her panicked eyes, the red of his desperate blood...)

With hope and finality, Sakyo closed his eyes for a while.

(As a symbol of devotion, Alstroemeria flowers can say to a companion or loved one that you will always be there for them and that you trust in your lasting bond.)

@cyrillean I hope you cry as much as I did while writing this!

[searchingwardrobes]

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 6/11

In different realms, Emma and Killian still think of the other as they search for something to fill in the hole in their hearts.

Yes, Emma and Killian are still separated in this chapter. Before you yell at me, though, this chapter also shows how often they still think of one another. Bear with me, I swear, all of this will make sense later, and I promise a great (steamy) payoff ;)

This chapter also introduces more of our favorite Once characters both in Neverland and the Land Without Magic. Emma does end up in Storybrooke, but I will go ahead and make something abundantly clear: it is an ordinary (albeit quirky) small town in this story. Some of the scenes in the Neverland section may sound familiar to some of you. I have had head canons for ages about Killian’s backstory with the fairies and with Wendy which I explored previously in fics that I have since deleted. They have been resurrected here, which I love because they are now fully fleshed out and in my own au! Anyways, I hope you enjoy my au versions of these characters.

Once again, massive thanks to the mods in the @captainswanbigbang​ fo organizing the CSRT especially @optomisticgirl​ who helped me handle self-doubt and writer’s block. B also was invaluable as a beta and in Discord chats as I tried to figure out how magic would work in this au. My other beta, @shippingtheswann​ whipped this chapter into shape, pointing out sooo many plot holes. Girl, where would I be without you?

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and positive Millian

Words: Almost 6k in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 19

The taxi drives off behind her, and Emma startles, grasping the straps of her meager duffel bag tighter as she looks up at the quaint inn before her. The small wooden sign out front swings in the breeze: Granny’s Inn. Behind it, facing the opposite street, is Granny’s diner. The two are attached by a stairwell. Convenient, since Emma will be working there.

She hoists her bag with a deep sigh as she walks up the stone steps leading to the inn. In her jacket pocket is the recommendation letter from her parole officer. She doesn’t think she’ll need it, but she has it at hand just in case.

A bell rings over the door when she enters, and an elderly woman with white hair and bifocals perched on her nose bustles out. With a pang, Emma thinks of Martha so long ago, though this woman has a stern look on her face, almost a scowl, that Martha never would have borne upon her countenance.

“Need a room?” the woman asks, all business.

“Um,” Emma hesitates, fishing the letter out of her pocket. It’s crumpled from the cab ride, and she feels a bit foolish as she holds it out like it’s proof or something. “I’m Emma Swan.”

“Oh!” the woman cries out, flinging both hands in the air as she bustles around the check-in desk. “My apologies. I was expecting you this evening.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think -”

“No trouble at all.” She glances at the paper in Emma’s hand. “I don’t need that, I’d know you from Marco’s description.”

The woman heads for the stairs, gesturing for Emma to follow. The inn is warm and homey, with vintage wallpaper and wall sconces illuminating the stairs. She follows the woman to the second floor and down the hall to room 210.

“This has a view of Main Street,” she tells Emma as she pulls an old fashioned key from her apron pocket and inserts it in the lock. “It’s a suite with a little sitting area and kitchenette, though you’re welcome to take your meals in the diner. On the house, of course.”

Emma’s eyes widen. “Oh, but I couldn’t. It’s your business.”

Granny waves her off. “I know a waitress’s salary isn’t much. How are you ever to get back on your feet if you have to spend every dime just to live? Besides, it was all in the agreement I sent you.”

Emma just nods, still nervously clutching her duffel. She doesn’t want to tell her that she didn’t actually read it. All the fine print and the legal jargon had made her head spin. Marco had said it was the best deal for a girl like her, and how many options did she have, anyway?

“Storybrooke is a nice little town,” Granny says as she pulls the curtains open to let in more light. “The last girl I helped, Ashley, ended up staying. She’s even engaged to a nice young man who works at the cannery.”

Granny comes closer, studying Emma’s face carefully. “Ashley was pregnant when she came. Marco told me you just gave up a baby. I want you to know, I’ve been there. Back in my day, they just shipped me off to a convent and ripped my little boy from my arms. I didn’t even have a say.”

Emma glances away nervously.

“Oh, I know you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve said my piece, and I won’t bring it up again. Just know this is a safe place, and I’ve got your back. And I don’t answer to anything but Granny, okay?”

Before Emma can say anything else, the woman is gone. Emma sinks down on the antique sofa situated in front of the fireplace. She feels out of place, out of sorts. Granny seems nice, and it’s clear she means well, but Emma isn’t staying here. Once she’s saved up enough money, she’s getting as far away from Maine as she possibly can.

Tallahassee still sounds nice.

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

Emma stands in front of the large, mahogany piece of furniture, her dry toothbrush dangling from her lips. It doesn’t look like the one from when she was ten and sixteen: the carvings are far more ornate, and the trim is all wrong, yet her fingers itch to open it and her heart rate picks up just a bit. She’s just about to reach for the little pewter knob when a knock sounds on the door. Emma opens it to find Granny standing there with towels in her arms.

“Thought you might need these tonight,” she says, bustling in without an invitation. “You’re not a guest but an employee, so washing these is your responsibility. The laundry is in the basement. Do you know how to do laundry?”

Emma nods.

“Good. Ashley turned her sheets pink.” Granny says this matter of factly, and Emma stifles a laugh. “Well, I’ll leave you be.”

“Um,” Emma gathers the courage to ask, “this wardrobe . . . “

“Wardrobe?” Granny asks, brow creased in confusion. She sees what Emma is gesturing at, and nods. “Oh, that. It’s not a wardrobe, it’s an entertainment center. Just fits the decor better. There’s a tv behind those doors. A small one, and it’s just the basic cable with fifteen channels or so. Better than nothing, though, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, goodnight.”

Emma’s shoulders fall after Granny leaves. An entertainment center. Nevertheless, she holds her breath when she flings it open.

Nothing but a twenty inch television set, just like Granny had said. It seems even smaller in the large cabinet, and it sits atop a cable box. Emma sighs and closes the doors. What had she expected, anyway?

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

Emma’s feet are sore as she sags against the prep sink and removes her apron. Ruby sees her and laughs in camaraderie.

“The first day is always the toughest,” she encourages.

“I hope so,” Emma groans. She pulls a wad of bills out of her apron pocket and thumbs through it. “I got good tips, though.”

Ruby smiles. “The breakfast crowd is always generous. Lunch? Not so much. Too much take out.”

Emma shoves the cash into the pocket of her jeans. There’s no uniform here, just the matching retro aprons with the pink frilly trim. Ruby is dressed vastly different from Emma in a tiny skirt and a midriff top. Emma wonders if this got the brunette more tips. Not that Emma is going that route, no matter how much she wants to get to Tallahassee.

“Speaking of lunch,” Emma says, “I’m starving.”

“Take a seat out there, and I’ll bring you something.”

“Grilled cheese and onion rings with a Coke?”

Ruby winks. “Coming right up!”

Emma heads for one of the smaller, two seater booths in the back near the jukebox, not wanting to take up room needed for real customers. She still feels a bit guilty taking food from Granny’s business. Of course, Ruby is Granny’s actual granddaughter, and she didn’t bat an eye at Emma’s “order.” She’ll just have to try and get used to generosity, she supposes.

Emma’s surprised when Ruby comes out almost immediately, but it isn’t her lunch on the waitress’s tray. With a flourish, she sets a mug of hot cocoa down in front of Emma. It’s even topped with Emma’s favorite: whipped cream and cinnamon.

“From a secret admirer,” Ruby chuckles with a roll of her eyes.

Emma frowns down at the beverage, and then her eyes flash as the cop she’d served at the bar earlier walks over. She’d recommended the whipped cream and cinnamon, telling him it was her personal favorite. The pervert! He stops at her booth and opens his mouth, but before he can speak, she lifts the mug and flings the cocoa right at him. It wets the front of his dress blues and drips from the badge at his hip. He glances down in shock at the front of him then back up at her.

“You do know I’m nineteen, right?” she snaps. “I may not have the most spotless past, but I’m not an easy score.”

The cop calmly grabs some napkins and pats at the stain on his shirt. “I agree one hundred percent,” he says, focusing on his shirt and not her. “I’m a thirty-two year old man. However, that creep Walsh Oaken over there is thirty-six and likes to sniff around Granny’s girls. I wanted to warn you.”

Emma’s brow furrows in confusion as she studies the cop, then looks over his shoulder at a skinny man who’s also perched on a stool at the bar. He winks at her, and Emma’s face turns red.

“Uh, you mean that guy at the bar? The one who’s been sitting two stools down from you since you came in?” Emma attempts a wry grin at the cop.

He chuckles, and Emma thinks that his eyes look kind, though also sad. The creep Walsh obviously overheard her conversation with the cop, and she suddenly wants to crawl under the table.

“Graham Humbert, sheriff of Storybrooke,” he tells her, extending his hand.

“Oh God,” Emma groans, “the sheriff?”

He laughs again. “It’s okay. I admire your spunk. Guys like Walsh obviously have no hope of taking advantage of you.”

“Ew,” Emma says, her nose wrinkling, “he’s gross and old.”

“I’ll overlook the old comment,” he tells her, “since he and I are too old for you.”

“Hello, Graham,” Ruby purrs as she sidles up with Emma’s plate of food. The sheriff’s eyes light up, and Emma is surprised when Ruby, over the top flirt, actually blushes.

“Hello, Ruby.” He replies, and Emma almost laughs at the way the man’s voice hikes up an octave. He clears his throat nervously, then says, “Well, duty calls, ladies. I’ll see you tonight, Ruby?”

“You know it,” the brunette tells him with a wink.

Ruby watches him go, and the sheriff even glances back in the doorway. Emma takes in the exchange with growing humor. When Ruby turns back around, Emma arches both brows at her.

“What?”

“You and the sheriff?”

“Shhh,” Ruby admonishes, waving at Emma, “not so loud, my Granny doesn’t know about us yet.”

“Why would she care? He seems like a nice guy. And you’re old enough for him.” Now that she knows he isn’t a pervert, Emma can acknowledge the man is attractive. She has eyes, after all.

Ruby shrugs. “Well, he lives here in the inn. Granny likes that he does, says he makes her feel safe, especially with the girls she takes in. If she found out I was sleeping with him . . . “

“Oh come on, Ruby, Granny seems more understanding than that.”

“Maybe,” Ruby gives Emma a sly grin, “but there’s also something thrilling about sneaking around.”

Emma rolls her eyes.

Ruby waggles her eyebrows. “Enjoy your lunch.”

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

The envelope is fat with bills and Emma smiles at the heft of it before she slips it beneath the panties in her underwear drawer. Not the most original of hiding places, but it works. Granny offered to take her to Storybrooke Savings & Loan to help her open an account, but Emma had declined. It’s too permanent, for one, like making a commitment to this quirky little town. But Emma also knows that plastic can be traced, and she has no desire to be found.

Or does she?

The pop and boom of fireworks shatters the silence of her room, and it's followed by a chorus of oohs from the families gathered below in the streets of Storybrooke. Emma merely crosses the room to draw her drapes closed before plopping down on her bed and turning on the tv. Fourth of July celebrations are playing on almost every station, but the last thing she wants to look at are families in the crowds with wide eyed children balanced on their hips. She could walk downstairs and out the door for that.

After she flips through the main four stations and PBS, she finally finds movies instead of fireworks. She’s not surprised by her options: Independence Day (naturally), Top Gun (of course), and a western she’s never heard of before. What’s more American than a western, right?

She settles for Top Gun, though she’s seen it so many times she can quote it by heart, wriggling beneath the covers and propping the pillows behind her head. Ruby had ragged her about living like an old woman, Granny had given her a reprimanding glare over her bifocals, and Graham had gently asked why she insisted on hiding. She supposes he’s right - she is hiding, but it’s for the best. This is merely a stop on her journey, and it’s best for everyone if she doesn’t get too attached.

She may live like an old lady, she won’t deny it, but Emma is still only nineteen years old. Going to sleep when even toddlers are gazing in wonder at fireworks is something Emma finds physically impossible, and by the time the smoke fades from the harbor, she’s antsy and slightly claustrophobic. She crosses to the window and sees the crowd slowly dispersing but not in any hurry to get home. She lets the curtain fall back into place and plops back down to watch Maverick and Goose for a bit longer. Once the credits roll, Main Street is finally empty, the few remaining revelers having headed down to the Rabbit Hole for drinks. Emma grabs a light sweater that’s draped over her desk chair and heads quietly downstairs.

This isn’t the first time she’s made her way through the quiet streets and headed to the docks. It’s one of the things she’ll miss when she leaves because Neal had been wrong. Emma looked it up - Tallahassee isn’t on the coast of Florida. The nearest beach will be over an hour’s drive away.

Emma sighs as she reaches the boardwalk, wrapping her sweater tighter around herself as a cool breeze sweeps across the water. She leans against the railing, looking out at the barges from which they’d shot off the fireworks. She can hear faint shouts from the crew as they clean up from the festivities. She glances over to her left and sees a sailing ship bobbing in the water where it’s tied to the dock. She thinks of a boy from years ago with sea-chapped lips, messy hair that smelled faintly of salt water, and bright blue eyes.

Three years ago, that’s when she saw that boy last. Has he changed as much as she has? Emma crosses her arms upon the wood railing and bends over to rest her chin atop them. As she often does when she comes here, she thinks of the first boy she really kissed and wonders if he’s still sailing the ocean. Maybe he’s a lieutenant now, like he had hoped. Maybe he has a nice, sweet girl who waits for him at the end of each voyage.

Emma isn’t sure why she entertains these fantasies of a boy she knew so briefly. Perhaps because it’s better than other places her thoughts could wander.

Only when her eyelids begin to droop and goosebumps rise on her arms does she leave the docks. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a penny. She holds the copper to her lips and whispers “Tallahassee.” Why she needs to get there so badly, she can’t even say. Nevertheless, she says it like a promise before tossing the penny into the waves.

Killian: Age 19

“Bloody fairies,” Killian mutters as he makes his way deeper into the thick jungle. Tiger Lily and Tink just had to bring up Milah and the need to avenge her death.

He stops at another thick tree truck; the only ones on the island that grow so large and tall. As the fairies had instructed, he slashes his hook across the smooth bark. He leans close on bated breath, and within minutes he has his answer: thick, black viscous liquid seeps from the tree. Hook retrieves a piece of parchment and a stub of charcoal from his duster pocket and makes a mark. So far, he’s counted two dozen dead pixie dust trees like this one and only half a dozen that are still producing.

Half an hour later, sweat is trickling down his back as he hacks his way through the dense bush. Suddenly, Killian spins, his hook at the ready as someone or something comes crashing through the jungle foliage to his right. He takes cover behind another thick pixie dust tree and waits. Pan’s crew are breaking in a new lost boy, most likely. Killian is shocked when it’s a girl, not a boy, who stumbles into the small clearing near his hiding place. Her blonde curls are a matted mess filled with bits of leaves and bracken, and her white gown is tattered and stained. As she scrambles to her feet, the moonlight hits her face, and Killian can make out the sheen of tears. Her blonde hair reminds him of Emma so long ago, and he can scarcely breathe for a moment. Then he blinks, his eyes clear, and he obviously sees that this girl’s hair is darker than Emma’s was.

Killian is so distracted by this strange turn of events, he doesn’t even hear the lost boys coming. They have the girl surrounded before Killian can get a bearing on the situation. The girl spins in a circle, frantically searching for an opening of escape, chest heaving in panic.

Félix stalks towards her, smacking his club repeatedly into his open palm. A phantom pain throbs where Killian’s hand used to be as the urge to pummel Félix with both fists surges through him.

“Wendy, Wendy, Wendy.”

“Please,” the girl begs, “just leave me alone.”

What happens next is a blur of white hot rage. The boys advance, Wendy is on the ground screaming, and Killian is suddenly in their midst, flinging lost boys right and left. Félix has Wendy on the ground by the throat, and Killian turns on him next.

“Run!” Killian yells, but Wendy simply stares at him with wide eyes, trembling as she curls herself into a ball. An image of a nine year old boy, cowering behind the barrels in a ship’s hold, swim up in Killian’s memory.

Félix stalks towards him, the rest of the lost boys regrouping at his back. “She’s a little young for you, don’t you think, Captain?”

That’s all it takes to send Killian over the edge. He swings with his hook, slicing down the side of Félix’s face. The young teen howls in pain, and stumbles backwards, blood gushing from his wound. The other lost boys falter as Félix stumbles to the ground, then turn and flee. Wendy has backed herself against a tree, still cowering in fear. Growling in frustration, Killian hauls her to her feet and commands her to run. When she makes no move to obey, he plunges into the jungle, hauling her along with him.

A few moments later, Wendy comes to herself and begins struggling in his grasp. “Let me go!”

He stops, turns, and snaps at her in frustration, “I’m trying to help you!” He gives her a small shake, but stops when he sees the terror in her eyes. He looks down at his hook, still dripping with Félix’s blood. He suddenly realizes what he must look like to her. Trembling slightly, he drops her arm and steps away from her. He points towards a faint trail to his left. “There’s a fairy nearby. Her tree house is that way. It’s hidden from the lost boys. You’ll be safe there.”

Wendy narrows her eyes. “You’re . . . saving me?”

The sound of lost boys echo through the jungle. “Weeeendyyyy! Come out, come out, wherever you are! We only want to play!”

Killian gestures with his hook, “Go!”

Once Wendy is heading for the tree house, Killian takes off in the opposite direction, crying, “Wendy! Run!”

He can hear the lost boys behind him, following him far away from the little lost girl.

The sounds of the lost boys are distant once he stumbles onto the beach where he’s left the dinghy. He hasn’t finished his task with the pixie dust trees, but that will have to wait. The lost boys were never supposed to know he was here.

“Bloody fairies,” he mutters again as he scrambles into the boat.

“Going somewhere, Captain?”

Hook’s blood boils as he turns to find Pan hovering nearby, his arms folded over his chest and his head tilted at a cocky angle. “Do you have a death wish, boy?”

“You can’t kill me,” Pan scoffs, “or you would have by now.”

“I can try!” Killian growls, leaping from the boat and onto the sand.

Predictably, Peter flits about around Hook’s head, but his taunts aren’t what the pirate expects and makes his blood run cold.

“You can’t save them both, Hook.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re old friend Tiger Lily or your new friend Wendy? Which should die today?”

Killian gives a feral yell as he grabs ahold of Pan’s ankle and flings him to the ground. He pins the demon there, his hook to the lad’s throat.

“What game are you playing now?”

Pan smirks, as if cold steel at his jugular is of no consequence. “Wendy was a gift for Felix, and you ruined it.”

“You hate girls.”

“But teenage boys have needs, unfortunately. It was long overdue.”

Killian presses his hook just enough to break some skin. “Wendy is safe, and what do you know of Tiger Lily?”

Peter laughs. “My crew has Tink’s treehouse surrounded. And as for Tiger Lily, well . . . let’s just say I hope she can hold her breath long enough for you to save her. Skull Rock fills up with water when the tide comes in, you know.”

Killian hauls the imp up and tosses him across the sand as he plunges back into the jungle.

“You don’t have time to save them both!” Pan calls after him. “The tide is coming in soon, Hook!”

Killian ignores him as he slashes his way through the thick brush towards Tink’s place. He’s racing so fast to get to the innocent little girl that he doesn’t see the flash of two blond heads coming from the opposite direction. He collides with Tinker Bell with such force, she tumbles to the forest floor, taking Wendy down with her.

“What the bloody hell, Hook, are you trying to kill us!”

“Tink, thank the gods!” Killian exclaims as he hurriedly pulls first Tink and then Wendy to their feet. “Pan said -”

“That the lost boys had found my hideout?” Tink finishes for him. “Yeah, I got that already.”

“Hurry!” Wendy screams when they hear shouts in the jungle behind them.

“Let’s go,” Tink orders, yanking Wendy by the arm down a ravine nearby. Killian brings up the rear, his sword at the ready in case he needs to slow down the enemy. Soon they’re racing along the bed of a trickling stream, and the sounds of the lost boys fade into the distance.

Tink stops in front of a large boulder covered in moss and pushes at a curtain of thick vines to reveal a shallow cave.

“This doesn’t look like much of a hideout,” Killian mutters.

“Do I look dense to you, Hook?” Tink snaps.

Killian arches a brow and tilts his head at the fairy. “Don’t answer that,” Tink mutters, and Wendy giggles. He winks at the child and is pleased when he elicits a blushing smile from her. Tink taps on the back wall of her cave with her wand, and a door appears.

“Bloody fairies,” Killian says for the third time that day, but this time with affection. That makes him think of - “Tiger Lily!” he cries. “Will you two be okay?”

Tink rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

He gives a tremulous smile to them both, then turns back, taking a different route back to the beach from the way they had come.

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

Skull Rock is a hulking menace in the distance, staring at Captain Hook with vacant eyes as he rows across the choppy waters. Rowing isn’t easy with one hand, even with his hook, and he wishes he’d thought to bring one of his crew along today. Of course, he hadn’t expected to be performing a rescue mission.

Killian curses himself, because – once again – he has mucked everything up. Just like with Milah, he has put a friend in danger. He just hopes Tiger Lily forgives him for going to rescue Wendy first. If she lives, that is.

Curse that wretched demon of a boy! His stomach turns remembering the lad’s mocking laughter on the beach.

The tide is rising faster, filling up the cavernous, yawning mouth of Skull Rock. Killian rows harder and swears again as the waves crash against boulders as he draws closer to his destination. Killian’s row boat is almost knocked sideways as he makes his way through the mouth of Skull Rock. There’s Tiger Lily, lifting her chin to call for help. The water splashes into her mouth, and her thick braids float on the surface of the water. Killian abandons the boat; there’s no more time. He dives beneath the waves, kicking his way to where Tiger Lily is tied to a rock. He comes up for air in time to see Tiger Lily’s wide and panicked eyes just as the tide completely closes over her. Killian inhales deeply and dives back under, hacking at the thick rope with his hook. Finally, it breaks free.

Killian grabs Tiger Lily around the waist and kicks upward. When they surface, they both gasp for air. The waves are beating harder, sending the row boat farther away from them. If they don’t catch up to it soon, water will completely fill the cavern, and they’ll both drown. Tiger Lily doesn’t need any instruction; she kicks her legs and swims alongside him. When they reach the side of the boat, Killian pushes her inside, then shoves the row boat through the opening of Skull Rock that has become the narrowest of exits. Killian dives under to follow the boat.

He swims with long strokes as far as he can, hoping he has cleared the rocks. When he breaks the surface, gasping for air, he’s relieved to find himself in the open air. A hand reaches down, and Tiger Lily hauls him over and into the boat. He barely has time to catch a breath before her hand connects with his cheek. The sound of her slap echoes across the water.

“What the bloody hell was that for?” he shouts.

“Hook, you are a dirty pirate, and I never want to speak to you again.” She yells, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What did I do? Pan was the one who tied you up in there!”

Tiger Lily glares at him, her arms still crossed. “And the only reason he found me was because YOU told him where I was!”

“Why the bloody hell would I do that?”

Tiger Lily deflates slightly, her brow furrowed. “In exchange for some of your crew.”

Killian arches a brow. “And you believed him?”

“Well, I . . . “

“I would have been here sooner, but I had to rescue Wendy.”

Tiger Lily shakes her head, even more confused. “Wendy?”

“A girl Pan had his shadow bring to the island. To . . . entertain his teenage crew.” Killian can barely get the words out.

“Pan hates girls, and he’s never cared . . . unless . . . “

Killian’s eyes widen. “Unless Wendy is bait.” He thinks of Mason and Felix telling Pan that he didn’t have the mark. “He’s looking for someone specific. He’s looking for -”

“A little boy,” Tiger Lily finishes for him, “very young.”

“But why tie you up in Skull Rock?”

Tiger Lily’s eyes widen as she takes up the oars. “A distraction. Where is your crew?”

Killian shakes his head as he too takes up the oars. “The ship is docked in Pirate’s Cove while I’m gone.”

“Exactly. No pirates to rescue lost boys from the shadow. Does Wendy have any brothers?”

Killian scowls. “I’m guessing the answer to that is yes.”

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

“Don’t they ever sleep?” Tiger Lily mutters from their hiding place behind a large rock. In the clearing, the Lost Boys are hunched around the blazing campfire, dipping spears and arrowheads into the sticky black sap of dreamshade.

Killian arches a brow at Tiger Lily. “Not much. Not without a mother.”

Tiger Lily tilts her head in confusion. “What?”

He shakes his head and mutters, “Never mind.”

The fairy crouches lower and tightens her hold on her bow as she draws closer to Pan’s camp on soft feet. Killian follows her, his palm sweating as he grips the hilt of his sword.

“They’re preparing for battle,” Kilian hisses to his companion.

“But why?”

Killian doesn’t reply; he’s too distracted by the rustling in the branches above them. He scowls when Tink drops to the forest floor beside him.

“Bloody hell, can you warn me before you drop out of the sky like that?”

“Tink,” Tiger Lily admonishes, “there isn’t enough pixie dust left for you to flit around like that!”

“Shut up both of you, and listen to me! I had to fly here, it was an emergency. Wendy is gone!”

“What do you mean she’s gone? ” Killian snaps. “I left you not an hour ago!”

“She was dirty and covered in scrapes, so we went to the stream for water. She swore she heard her little brother crying. I turned around for a second, I swear -”

“Shit,” Killian mutters, “it’s not a battle they’re preparing -”

“-it’s a hunt,” Tiger Lily finishes for him.

The three of them split up, knowing that covering more ground is the only hope for Wendy and her brother. His heart pounds in his chest as he makes his way up Dead Man’s Peak, thoughts of his brother swimming up from the dark recesses of his mind. He can’t let Wendy lose hers. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a long, slow breath. Barreling around won’t help the children; he needs to focus.

Holding his hook aloft and using his sword to push aside the foliage, he continues his search. He wishes he had a lantern, but the risk of drawing the Lost Boys’ attention was too great. Thankfully, the moon is full tonight, and its light bathes the ground more and more as he ascends the peak, the foliage becoming sparser. His eyes scan the meager sized clumps of bushes, hoping for a glimpse of Wendy’s white nightgown.

Yet it’s a pair of green eyes that halts his steps. For a moment, his heart slams against his ribcage. The shade is so similar to Emma’s from long ago. As his gaze lands on those green eyes, they widen and he hears a small gasp. The bush from whence the sound came rustles, and he recognizes Wendy’s voice as she whispers, “hush!”

Killian sheathes his sword and lowers himself to his knees, not wanting to startle the children. “Wendy,” he hisses.

“Hook?” she asks in a wobbly voice.

“Yes, it’s me,” he says gently, easing around the bush. It grows right up against a wall of rock, and beyond it he hears the gurgling of Rainbow Falls. He pushes aside the foliage shielding the children, and the moonlight falls across them both. Wendy has her arms around a little boy of about four. For a moment, he looks up at Killian with wide, light green eyes, but then he shudders and buries his face against his sister’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Michael, the pirate is our friend.”

“Come, children, quickly. The Lost Boys are on the hunt for you.”

“They don’t want me,” Michael says hoarsely, peeking out at Hook again. “I’m too little, and I don’t have marks.”

Killian’s brow furrows. “Marks?”

“Here,” Michael says, holding out his arm.

Killian blinks, thinking back to Felix yanking at Mason’s arm a year ago. He doesn’t have the mark. Yet he has no time at present to contemplate it further as the shouts of the Lost Boys echo from the canyon below. Killian reaches for the children, urging them to hurry, but he stills when he sees a large palm leaf resting near Wendy’s knee. Water shimmers in the center of it, reflecting the moonlight.

“Where did you get this?” he asks Wendy.

“From the falls,” she tells him, “we were thirsty.”

“You drank from Rainbow Falls?” he asks, his heart plummeting to his stomach.

Wendy tilts her head. “Yes, of course. Why?”

Killian puts on a brave smile as he scoops up Michael. “No time for that now. Let’s get you back to the fairy’s cave.”

“I want to go home,” Michael whimpers as he clutches the edges of Killian’s coat.

“Hook will help us,” Wendy says with so much faith, that it makes Killian want to weep.

He says nothing in reply. He doesn’t have the heart to tell them that they doomed themselves the minute they drank from Rainbow Falls. They will never be able to leave the island.

Tagging:  ��@snowbellewells  @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @bethacaciakay @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @courtorderedcake @branlovestowrite @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda​ @ultraluckycatnd @spartanguard @shireness-says @scientificapricot​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @snidgetsafan​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @nikkiemms​@delirious-latenight-laughs​

[radishtears]

gently, we fall

... ... ...

Wei Wuxian x Lan Wangji, Yunmeng Siblings

An AU in which Wei Wuxian dies at Qiongqi Path

A drabble series?

... ... ...

Faint sounds and deep shadows beyond the door

Was our meeting real or just a dream?

Many seasons, a lifetime ago

In the end, past fates will fade into scars

... ... ...

Wei Wuxian had a dream.

He dreamed of Jin Zixun’s twisted face, of a hundred flying arrows, of a shattered silver bell, of scarlet spreading across Jin Zixuan’s robes. So when the red is dripping down his own chest instead, the pain barely registers.

He doesn’t remember falling.

Just before his eyes flutter shut, he makes out his Shijie’s husband rushing towards him, stunned but alive and whole.

He smiles in relief and lets the dark engulf him.

...

...

...

He wakes up confused and disoriented. There’s dirt lodged in his throat.

After a long fit of inelegant coughing and spluttering, he finally gathers enough energy to look around, eyes watering. Seconds later, he comes to a conclusion.

He has no idea where he is.

...

Three years ago...

A fair distance away, Sect Leader Jiang stands upon his family’s burial grounds, Zidian crackling on his finger. Several servants and disciples cower before him, heads bowed, trembling.

Jiang Cheng lifts his hand and they flinch back, waiting for the blow. It doesn’t come. Instead, Jiang Cheng gestures to the torn up, empty grave.

“You and you. Tidy it up.” His voice is steady as he gives his orders. “The rest, find whoever did this and bring them to me. Alive.”

He turns without another word, blood seeping from where his nails have sunk into flesh.

...

Wei Wuxian has been wandering for the better part of the day now. When he’d woken, it was already late afternoon and he had no energy to do more than lie back down. After an evening’s sleep, he’s slightly better, though he still feels weirdly shrivelled and very hungry.

It’s once again afternoon by the time he finds a village. And he finally knows where he is. Kind of.

By the sounds of the local accent and street foods, he’s near Yunmeng.

...

Those first few days, Wei Wuxian was forced to rely on his face and his lady-wooing skills to earn meals. Though once it was a young lady’s brother who turned red and stuffed a steam bun into his hand. He’s still a little confused by that.

Thankfully he was able to start night hunting along the way to earn some spending money. Wei Wuxian contemplates getting a horse but his funds are really too limited. Alas, he still has no golden core so travel is slow, but at least his demonic cultivation is in tact.

On the other hand, there’s a strange strength flowing through his limbs that reminds Wei Wuxian of fierce corpses. Is that what he is now? Certainly, he hadn’t possessed anyone; this is his own body. The thought is a little troubling but he brushes it aside easily. Living each day as it comes, that’s his motto. The “living” part is already a mystery.

He is snapped out of his musing by the sounds of battle up ahead. Young voices are exclaiming in frustration and fear. Wei Wuxian runs towards the commotion.

Drawing near, he spies purple sect robes and familiar sword patterns.

Wei Wuxian hesitates, but only for a split second.

He hasn’t really thought about his plans going forward. Avoiding the thought, to be honest. It’s been almost ten years since that day at Qiongqi Path and it’s enough to feel like a lifetime. He figures he’ll go take a peek at the people he once knew and then...then what?

Go back to the Jiang Sect? He already defected.

Where was his place now, as a long dead, previously feared demonic cultivator?

...It doesn’t matter now. Saving lives comes first. Wei Wuxian slips seamlessly into battle and the ghouls stand no chance.

As most of the Jiang disciples fall to the ground in exhaustion, one of the older ones comes to greet Wei Wuxian formally.

“Qianbei*, we owe our lives to you. May I ask for the good name of our saviour?”

Wei Wuxian grimaces instinctively at the words of gratitude. He waves a hand carelessly. “My surname is Wei. It was no trouble.”

“Ah, Wei-qianbei. Please, come back with us to Lotus Pier for some tea. Let us thank you properly. It isn’t far.”

This time, Wei Wuxian shakes his hand even harder.

“It’s fine. No, really. I don’t want anything in return...”

He backs away and turns to leave. And stops dead.

A pair of familiar eyes are staring back at him, slowly widening in disbelief. There’s a long moment of silence. Then...

“Ahaha.” Wei Wuxian scratches his nose sheepishly. “Jiang Cheng. Did you miss me? It’s been a while.”

...

tbc.

... ... ...

*qianbei / 前辈 = senior (in cultivation level, a school/practice or generation)

I have a general outline of this story and requests and/or prompts are welcome. For now, I’ll reveal some of my ideas, though nothing is set fully in stone:

Wei Wuxian is resurrected 8 years after his death. Jin Ling is 8 years old and Lan Yuan is 10.

How did he come back? WWX doesn’t know, but he’s going to find out. I fully admit it’s a little deus ex machina, but it’s hard to find a foolproof method anyway.

Lots of Yunmeng Bros.

WangXian dating. Stay tuned for their reunion lol.

A-Yuan is a total wingman. The Jiangs know about A-Yuan. JC secretly likes him but pretends not to. Jiang Yanli fully adores him and asks LWJ to have him visit a lot. LWJ uses this as an excuse to visit WWX’s grave.

After Qiongqi Path, and after JGS shows his true colours, JYL refuses to stay on Golden Koi Tower. She moves back to live at Lotus Pier with her son. It’s all incredibly scandalous. JZX technically stays in Lanling, but he actually chills at Lotus Pier when he has no duties. Though, around 2-3 years later, JGS dies and JZX becomes Sect Leader.

Nie Mingjue dies 3 years after WWX.

JGY’s story should pretty much follow canon, though the timeline is obviously shifted. And MXY gets to live! Poor kid deserved better.

Endgame = WangXian get married, probably?

I’m tagging these as #mdzs gwf so look in/follow the tag for more!

... ... ...

Support me via Ko-fi.

[ibijau]

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

Things do not go as planned in Nightless City. Lan Wangji worries. Nie Huaisang plots.

warning for some violence (canon typical levels I’d say?)

Nightless City had never been Lan Wangji’s favourite place to travel to, but after years of abandonment, it had become truly ghoulish. In certain places, the lingering resentment was so strong it became nearly impossible to breathe. In the bitter wind, Lan Wangji thought he could still hear the shrill notes of Chenqing playing a deadly melody. In every shadow, he half saw the shape of Wei Wuxian, fractured by too many losses, on the verge of shattering beyond repair, taking hundreds down with him.

Lan Wangji could have happily lived to immortality and never set foot again in this cursed city. It must have shown. Several times, Nie Huaisang tried to order him away, saying he was perfectly capable of handling his brother’s body, even if Nie Mingjue really had turned into a fierce corpse and needed to be subdued.

“I’m not much of a cultivator, but even I can take care of a fierce corpse,” he boasted again and again with an empty smile. “Go wait for me in the nearest town, Wangji. It’s a family problem anyway, and I’ve made you help enough already.”

“We’re family,” Lan Wangji said at last, when he grew tired of his husband trying to send him away.

After this, Nie Huaisang grew quiet and stopped insisting that he could do this alone. 

It wasn’t until they arrived to the spot marked on the map that Lan Wangji understood where, exactly, his brother-in-law’s remains had been hidden. He felt nauseous at being once more in front of Wen Ruohan’s palace, where the remains of the Wen siblings had been scattered to the winds, Wei Wuxian’s last friends, the last people he had cared about.

The place where the entire cultivation had united together, just as tightly as they had during the Sunshot Campaign, and announced that they had decided who their next enemy would be. The place where Wei Wuxian’s death had been decided, where he had lost what little he still had and snapped over the bloodied corpse of his sister. The place where…

“Hey, stay with me,” Nie Huaisang called to him, grabbing his sleeve and pulling lightly, the way A-Yuan did sometimes. “So, this is the right place, uh? Heavens, it looks even worse than in my memories. Remember that archery contest, at that last conference the Wens held? Damn, I remember the party after, it was so awful. The alcohol was so cheap. Talk about disrespecting your guests! Ah, not that it’d matter to you, of course. I wonder how the tea was?”

“Bad,” Lan Wangji managed to answer, taking one shaky breath after another. “Cheap.”

“I knew it! And the food was awful as well. There was that weird dessert… did you have any of the desserts?”

Lan Wangji dived under more recents memories and tried to remember that conference. It felt a lifetime ago. It was, in a way. They had all been different before the war. Sometimes, it all felt like a dream. And in that dream, he could not remember whether he’d eaten the dreadful desserts Nie Huaisang apparently recalled with such clarity. Thinking about it helped a little, though, forcing him to focus on something other than his last visit to Nightless City.

“No desserts,” he still said, since that seemed likely. He took a deep breath. Now was not the moment to break. He could do that later, when they had recovered Nie Mingue’s body and Nie Huaisang no longer needed his help. “Give me a moment. Then I will see if his soul can be reached.”

“Should I be silent, or keep talking?”

“Hm. Tell me more about the desserts,” Lan Wangji ordered, looking around for a place where he might sit without covering himself in filth.

With Nie Huaisang still clinging to his sleeve, he found a spot at last, not far from where his brother and the other sect leaders had stood to… but no. Lan Wangji pushed away that memory, and forced himself to listen to Nie Huaisang’s graphic description of what he claimed were the worst tanghulu he’d ever eaten in his life. The mindless chatter only stopped when he took out his guqin and played a few notes, bringing him if not peace, then at least clarity. 

"I will try Inquiry," he announced. 

"You think it will work on Da-ge?" 

"No," Lan Wangji admitted, and immediately something crumbled in Nie Huaisang. "There are other spirits lingering here. One might help." 

Lan Wangji played the notes that commanded souls to come talk to him. In an instant he found himself surrounded with the screams and rage of all those who had perished in this cursed city. Several ceremonies had been performed to put them to rest, but with so many having died, and in such a violent manner, it had not yet been enough to calm them. 

In vain, Lan Wangji tried to call forth the soul of Nie Mingjue. All that brought him was a dissonant mass of spirits trying to seize his guqin, either praising or cursing his brother-in-law for his actions in Nightless City. Lan Wangji played a few more notes to calm them before trying a different question. Had they seen Jin Guangyao come to this place in the past year? 

Less spirits rushed to him this time, and Lan Wangji was able to select the strongest one among them to answer, one single word. 

Yes. 

The spirit, a fallen Nie disciple, had trained alongside Jin Guangyao during his time in Qinghe Nie and thus knew him very well. He had no doubt that it was him, having caught a glimpse of his face. After further interrogation, it revealed that Jin Guangyao had come there to bury something, and it was able to give the precise location, hidden under a large paving stone. Lan Wangji thanked the spirit, promised to see what could be done about another calming ceremony, and turned to his husband to share the news. 

"Let me guess, he hid Da-ge's body under the spot where they took the oath, didn't he?" 

"Hm." 

"Theatrical bastard," Nie Huaisang hissed. "Wangji, if you want, I'll handle the rest alone. I can manage." 

Lan Wangji shook his head. 

"A fierce corpse is not a person. What we find might attack you."

"But still…" 

"I won't let A-Yuan be orphaned again." 

That cut short to all of Nie Huaisang’s protests, as Lan Wangji expected it would. 

Together, and with both of them equally uneasy though for different reasons, they went to the spot indicated by the spirit. It was barely visible if one did not look for it, but among the paving stones there was one that appeared to have been unsealed. 

Without saying it, Lan Wangji knew that Nie Huaisang and him were thinking the same thing: that stone did not look large enough to cover a body, let alone that of a man as tall as Nie Mingjue. Still they knelt on the ground and got to work, carefully lifting the stone, then digging the soil under until they found a box. 

That box itself was nothing special. It was made of black wood and carried no particular mark. And yet powerful dark energies surrounded it, barely contained by a great number of peculiar talismans drawn in blood. 

"I've never seen those talismans before," Nie Huaisang commented in a weak voice, clearly trying to ignore the more glaring issue. That box that was little more than the length of Lan Wangji's arm. 

"I have," Lan Wangji announced, though he could not quite remember where he might have seen them. "It will come to me." 

Nie Huaisang nodded weakly. He brought one hand toward the box, as if to brush his fingers against the wood, but stopped short of touching it. 

"Wangji… That box… It's really too small, isn't it?" he whispered. “Do you think… do you think he cremated him?”

“Hm.”

It was a likely possibility. It would have eliminated any traces of the crime, and made it far more difficult to summon Nie Mingjue’s soul to testify regarding his own death. 

It would definitely have required an accomplice though, because the fierce corpse of such a man would not have allowed itself to be destroyed so easily, and Jin Guangyao’s cultivation was what it was. Besides, the talismans on the box did not look like ordinary ones. There were few methods that called for the characters to be drawn in blood, and currently the most famous one was Wei Wuxian’s demonic path. Considering that Lanling Jin had been the one to get its hands on most of Wei Wuxian’s notes, that they had infamously hired a person such as Xue Yang to make sense of those…

“That talisman, isn’t it different from the others?” Nie Huaisang suddenly pointed out. “Look, it has one stroke less than the others.”

Before Lan Wangji could stop him, Nie Huaisang reached for the faulty talisman. As soon as he touched the paper it consumed itself, allowing an intense burst of resentful energy to be released from the box. Nie Huaisang cried out in surprise or pain, while Lan Wangji, acting on sheer instinct, jumped to his feet and drew his sword. Before Bichen was fully out of its sheath, the box’s lid was shattered as a lone arm burst out of its confinement.

In the split second it took Lan Wangji to comprehend what was happening, the arm launched itself at Nie Huaisang’s throat since he was closest, and alternated between trying to strangle him and clawing at his skin. It did not stop its assault until Lan Wangji slashed at it with his sword, distracting it from its victim. For a moment the arm, as if enraged, tried to attack Lan Wangji, blindly clawing in his direction and narrowly avoiding being cut to pieces by Bichen. Quickly though, it lost interest in that fight. Twice Lan Wangji managed to stop it, but in the end the arm avoided his attacks and returned to assault Nie Huaisang who was still kneeling on the ground, trying to stop the gashes on his throat from bleeding out.

Nie Huaisang screamed in terror and pain when that ghoulish arm seized his own, digging its claws into his flesh. 

The arm was not merely tearing at him now, but instead dug its fingers into the skin of Nie Huaisang as if it sought to get under it. With each passing second, the poor man fought a little more weakly, his skin growing paler until Lan Wangji took his guqin again and hurriedly played a song to calm the arm. It took effort, and a few tries, but after a few minutes he managed to pacify the arm. It fell to the ground, as did Nie Huaisang, pale and whimpering in pain but still alive.

Keeping an eye on the now immobile arm, Lan Wangji hurried to Nie Huaisang’s side and used every bit of spiritual energy he could spare to stop the bleeding. Even when he was done, Nie Huaisang would not stop trembling and crying.

When his eyes fell on the arm, he screamed in rage and horror, the noises resonating in those vast, empty spaces. 

“I have to get him back,” Nie Huaisang hissed in a broken voice when he calmed down. “And then I’m killing every single Jin in Lanling.”

“You won’t.”

“I certainly want to! They butchered him! No, not even butchered,” He corrected with a hysterical laugh. “Butchering, that calls for skill. I could cut a body better than that and I will when I get my hands on Guangyao! I’ll dig up his mother and father and show him how it’s done, I will...”

“Huaisang, calm down.”

“My brother! They took my brother and did this to him, and you want me to calm down? If it were Xichen, if it were A-Yuan, would you be calm? I’ll make them pay! Every single one of them, I’ll make them pay!”

Unsure what to do when faced with such desperate rage, Lan Wangji forced himself to put a hand on his husband’s shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort. His hand was slapped away. Nie Huaisang had too little strength left at the moment for it to sting, but the message was clear. Comfort, for now, was not welcome.

Instead, Lan Wangji turned his attention back to the box and, having seen its content, he realised where he had seen those talismans before. They were eerily similar to those Wei Wuxian had used to contain Wen Ning before his conscience was returned to him. They were not quite as neat as the ones he had seen during his brief visit to the Burial Mounds, and if anything, they seemed to have been traced by someone who had only the vaguest idea of the proper way to write characters, but they were still the same ones.

“Demonic cultivation,” he announced to Nie Huaisang, hoping to distract him from his rage. “To contain and conceal.”

Nie Huaisang did not answer, his eyes fixed on the arm. He reached out for it and, with some hesitation, picked it up to hold it against his chest, cradling it as if it were a child.

“We can try the spell again,” Lan Wangji offered. “We might find the rest of him. Even if we do not, this is proof something evil was done to him.”

“He got rid of Xue Yang,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, tightening his hold on his brother’s arm.

“Hm?”

“Guangyao. He got rid of Xue Yang. You say this is demonic cultivation, and Xue Yang was the only person they’d found who was able to make sense of Wei Wuxian’s work. He wasn’t purging his sect and starting anew, he was getting rid of witnesses.”

“It is still proof.”

Nie Huaisang laughed. “Proof of what? The spell we used to find it is a secret Nie technique, it’d be easy to say we lied about its effects, or that I tricked you and used you for my nefarious plans. This arm could be anyone’s. I know it is my brother’s, I know it, but it’ll be my word against Guangyao’s. People don’t like him, but I think they like me even less.”

An unfair statement, in Lan Wangji’s opinion. Lan Xichen believed and trusted them. Jiang Wanying probably had more sympathy for and trust in Nie Huaisang than in his brother-in-law’s half brother who had just usurped his nephew’s inheritance. The older Madam Jin might share that sentiment.

But all that, of course, was on a personal level. Lan Wangji was starting to accept that natural inclination, and things as unquantifiable as honesty and truth, did not matter as much as his sect’s rules had led him to believe.

“We find the rest of his body,” Lan Wangji insisted. “When we are away from this place, I will try Inquiry again. We will find proof.”

Nie Huaisang appeared unconvinced by that promise, for which Lan Wangji could not blame him. After a shock such as this, hope would have been difficult to muster even for a man not already as close to despair as Nie Huaisang was.

--

They left Nightless City after carefully replacing the paving stone where it belonged and taking great pains to hide that it had been moved. The box they took with them, so they could inspect it later at their leisure to look for clues. The arm, of course, came as well. 

It took Lan Wangji great efforts to persuade Nie Huaisang to put the arm back in its box, and to put that box in a qiankun bag so it would be easier to transport. Even then, Nie Huaisang insisted to be the one to carry it, clinging to it as tightly as he had done with the arm itself.

Nie Huaisang did not speak on their way out of the city. He did not speak when they stopped for the night at a small, struggling inn that still survived on the outskirts of Nightless City. He did not speak when Lan Wangji used the different Nie spells he had been taught in a fruitless attempt to locate the rest of the body. The rest of Nie Mingjue must have been better sealed. If not for that mistake with one of the talismans, it was likely that they would never have found even this much.

As promised, Lan Wangji attempted to play Inquiry for the arm. It was all in vain, and Nie Huaisang remained eerily silent. The only sound he made all evening happened when the arm, which had stood perfectly still so far, started moving its fingers of its own accord and appeared to point in his direction. Nie Huaisang cried out and nearly fell down in fear, but before anything could happen Lan Wangji quickly calmed the arm once more, this time putting more power into it so that hopefully it would not trouble them again until the next evening.

When Nie Huaisang went to bed, he took with him the qiankun bag, as if scared that someone might take his brother from him again. In the morning, he looked somehow more tired than when he had gone to sleep, and remained uncharacteristically quiet.

That silence remained as they made their way to the Cloud Recesses where they needed to see Lan Xichen and announce that their plan was not going quite as smoothly as they had all expected. It was unsettling to see Nie Huaisang so quiet when Lan Wangji had never known him as anything but loud and animated both at the heights of his joy and in the depths of his pain. And yet, Lan Wangji did not know how to comfort his friend. All he could do was offer his presence, and be ready to help, should it be asked.

--

When they arrived in the Cloud Recesses, their first stop was to pick up their son. There was no shyness this time, but a lot of tears as A-Yuan left Hou Tianjian's side and ran into his father’s arms. He wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck nearly tight enough to choke him. It was good, after those difficult weeks, to be home and have his son with him again. Nightless City had reminded him bitterly of his errors, but at least A-Yuan was proof that he had not entirely failed Wei Wuxian.

When A-Yuan noticed that Nie Huaisang was there as well, he made it clear that he wanted to be in the other man’s arms now. Nie Huaisang indulged him but made a great show of complaining and lamenting that the little boy was starting to get too heavy for him. A-Yuan appeared very amused by those protests, but grew serious when his eyes fell on Nie Huaisang’s neck where he still bore marks of the arm's attack.

“Nie-ge is hurt?”

Nie Huaisang laughed awkwardly, and balanced A-Yuan against his hip so he could free one hand and pull his collar tighter against his skin.

“That's nothing,” he said with a too wide smile. “Your Nie-ge is clumsy and fell into some bushes. Let's not talk about it, right? It's very embarrassing for poor Nie-ge.”

“Does it hurt?” A-Yuan insisted, reaching out towards some of the scabs that couldn't quite be covered by the fabric. Nie Huaisang grasped his wrist and stopped him before he could touch.

“The worst wound is to my pride,” he replied with false assurance. “A-Yuan, I love you but you're too heavy. Go back with your dad now.”

“Nie-ge looks tired,” A-Yuan commented as he was handed back to Lan Wangji. “Did Nie-ge and Father work a lot?”

What little cheerfulness Nie Huaisang had managed to muster thus far appeared on the verge of collapsing, and so Lan Wangji took it upon himself to come to his rescue.

“We were busy,” he explained. “We flew from very far and for many days. It can be tiring.”

None of it was a lie, even if it was far from the entire truth. It seemed to satisfy A-Yuan who even took it as his chance to ask whether he too would soon learn to fly on his sword. Lan Wangji thanked Hou Tianjian for her help, gave in to her request that Lan Jingyi come play in the Jingshi someday, and then the three of them left together. The rest of the day passed not unpleasantly, with A-Yuan detailing everything he had done since Lan Wangji had last seen him. It was painful to know that he had missed several weeks of his son's life, but A-Yuan did not appear to resent his absence too much this time. Somehow, that made it worse, as if the child had just grown to accept that it was normal for him to be left behind.

As the bell of curfew rang, there was a knock on the Jingshi's door. Lan Wangji, after checking that A-Yuan had truly fallen asleep, went to welcome his visitor. It was no surprise to find his brother on his doorstep. In truth, they probably should have gone to see him as soon as they had arrived in Cloud Recesses, but without ever saying it, Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji had agreed that being with A-Yuan was more important. Their quest had met little success, but their son needed to know they hadn't abandoned him.

Lan Xichen took one look at the both of them, and his face hardened.

“I gather that things did not go as we had hoped?”

Nie Huaisang, who had been sitting at the table, a fan in one hand and a book in the other, flinched at the question. He dropped the book and immediately grasped to the qiakun bag that he still refused to be parted from, except for when Lan Wangji was forced to calm the resentful arm it contained.

“The situation is more complicated than expected,” Lan Wangji stated, inviting his brother to sit before launching himself into a short explanation of what had happened, wanting to spare Nie Huaisang from having to recount those events. Even just hearing an account of what had happened seemed nearly too much for his husband who grew paler and more closed off as the explanation reached its end.

Lan Xichen hardly fared any better.

“I cannot believe Jin Guangyao would go so far,” he whispered in a trembling voice. “Doing something so horrific to a man he once called his brother...”

Sitting next to him, Lan Wangji patted his brother's shoulder. After days of dealing with Nie Huaisang's worsening mood, it was almost shocking when the comforting gesture was not rejected.

“Maybe we can act even with this alone,” Lan Xichen suggested with a sigh. “It is not the strongest case we could be making, but...”

“I am not taking risks,” Nie Huaisang hissed, grasping his fan tightly. “This isn't enough proof. I cannot... I will not take the risk of accusing him now. He'll just find some new lies to throw around and look for ways to destroy the rest of Da-ge's body and then he'll have won. I can let him gloat a little longer with his perfect sect, his perfect wife and his perfect son. I'm patient. I'll find my brother's body, and that will be proof, and then nothing will stop me from avenging Da-ge.”

“Huaisang, it might take a long time,” Lan Xichen objected. “And you will have to interact with him frequently. Can you manage that?”

“Of course. Er-ge should know better than anyone that I'm quite good at not showing when things affect me.”

There was something nearly cruel to Nie Huaisang's smile as he said that, and he appeared to enjoy the way Lan Xichen tensed at the veiled accusation.

“We must use that other corpse finding spell,” Lan Wangji intervened to ease the tension and get them back on track. “If Huaisang is willing to teach me, I will go to Qinghe with A-Yuan and...”

“That won't be necessary,” Nie Huaisang cut him. “Not yet, anyway. That last spell is... cumbersome, it requires a lot of preparation and certain... elements to be gathered.” He snickered. “Actually, that spell is almost outright demonic cultivation, if I'm honest. I'd rather you not be there as I get it started, although I will need your high cultivation to really get it going when the time comes. But until then, I'd prefer if you stayed in the Cloud Recesses. It's A-Yuan's home, and yours as well.”

“You should not be left alone,” Lan Wangji objected.

Nie Huaisang shrugged, but did not try to deny that statement. That only served to worry Lan Wangji even further and judging by the look on his face, Lan Xichen felt similarly.

“Huaisang, we are on your side,” he said softly, reaching out to take his brother-in-law's hand. “Let us help you.”

Lan Xichen's hand was slapped away.

“This isn't your problem. Da-ge was my brother, my family, my responsibility,” Nie Huaisang snapped, before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to smile as he fanned himself. “I hope that didn't sound ungrateful. I am so, so thankful for your help, especially Wangji. But I have asked so much already, and this spell... it really is too much, considering Lan rules. I'd rather not bother you with the details, since they would displease you. Honestly, they displease me as well, and I know Da-ge disliked this spell, as did our father. But sometimes, there is no choice, is there?” Nie Huaisang chuckled lightly, his smile turning vicious again. “It's not like I can grab San-ge or Xue Yang and shake them until they tell me what they did to my brother.”

“Some of the purged demonic cultivators have been exiled, not killed,” Lan Xichen remarked. “Perhaps one of them might know something. Mo Xuanyu lives not far from Gusu, I could visit him.”

Nie Huaisang appeared to give that idea some thought, his fan stilling in his hand.

“Anyone who knew anything useful will have been killed,” he eventually remarked, hiding behind his fan. “And San-ge always said Mo Xuanyu was an idiot, so I'd be surprised if he had really dealt with any demonic cultivation. More likely, it's just a convenient excuse to get rid of another candidate to leadership of Lanling Jin. I'm ready to bet that stupid kid has been accused of every crime under the sun in Carp Tower. It is useless for Er-ge to go meet him, he will not have anything interesting to tell us. No, the spell is our only chance. It will find Da-ge... in time.”

Lan Xichen nodded, but appeared disappointed that his attempt to help had been so quickly rejected. Considering how little else he could do due to his position and the guilt he held regarding his part in the murder, Lan Wangji imagined his brother would have been glad to do anything to help in any way. Ultimately though, Nie Huaisang was right: Nie Mingjue had been his brother, and it was his duty to avenge him. They could offer their help, but he had to accept it.

Besides, although Lan Wangji was asked to continue living in the Cloud Recesses, so far Nie Huaisang had said nothing against visiting Qinghe. Even if he later objected to the idea, Lan Wangji would simply ignore him and go anyway. A-Yuan would surely start missing his Nie-ge too much otherwise, and Nie Huaisang loved the boy so much that he would not be able to protest once they were there.

Lan Wangji had made mistakes in the past, but he would not allow another friend of his to self destroy in the name of righteousness.

[smoljojo]

Serenades and Seidr

Summary: Loki imagine - Imagine Loki singing loudly and passionately, and then blushing when he realizes that you’re listening. Also, Loki helps you siphon seidr.

Edit: I don’t know why but it didn’t occur to me when I first wrote this to say that this my little smutty AU flurry for @maiden-of-asgard ‘s wonderful Frostbite story. Go check her full fic out!

Notes: So, it has been a hot minute since I posted my last Loki drabble, but I’m back baby! I’m honestly not sure how I feel about this one but I’ve had it in my drafts for the longest time and thought I’d might as well post it before I start up my first multi-chapter fic. Hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Loki/reader

Word count: 1653

Warnings: Fluff, mild embarrassment, some semi-steamy kisses but no actual smut

Rating: T

~~~

You huff in annoyance after you finish your third failed attempt at seamlessly connecting the arms of the figure you’re drawing to it’s torso. The paper is slightly wrinkled and the faint marks of half-erased pencil strokes are visible surrounding the shoulders, both of which provoke you to crumple the paper and chuck it at the far wall. The crude ball, quite pathetically, only makes it halfway across the room before landing in the middle of the royal Asgardian rug of yours and Loki’s shared drawing room, only furthering your ire. You drag yourself out of your cushioned chair to pick up the trash, but your body stills before you can even get close to your miserable paper ball.

The faintest sound of someone singing drifts across the empty space, seeming to originate from the room separated from the one you’re currently in by large, heavy doors. The only person it could’ve been was Loki.. but you’d never heard him sing before, and he certainly never boasted about this secret talent. You silently pad over to said doors, and gently press your ear against the cool wood.

The lyrics are indecipherable but the melody is sweet and soothing. You sigh and lean more of your weight against the door as the song continues, picturing Loki mindlessly singing this tune while preparing for his meeting with the lords from the coast and various other members of the Jötun royal family. The thought of him positioning his golden, horned helmet over his raven hair as the tune slips through his throat is enough to give you the courage to crack open the door for a peak, praying the Norns will let you slip into the room undetected.

The hinges make the tiniest of groans, but Loki’s voice, of which is much clearer now, never falters, encouraging you to sneak through the opening and slowly shut the door behind you.

He’s lying fully dressed on his back on the bed when you spot him, illustrating glowing runes and symbols you recognized from one of his many spellbooks, in the air in front of him. The figures of light seem to dance along with his voice as he waves his hand half-heartedly.

“Would you like to try?”

The question shocks you, of course a part of you had suspected he was aware of your presence but you kind of hoped he’d let you watch him for a moment.

“What do you mean?” You ask, tentatively closing the distance between you both when he sits up. “Try magic? You know I’m no good.”

“You mustn't doubt your ability, most mortals only dream of being able siphon seidr, much less being able to harness it - come here.”

You fold your legs under you when you sit down next to him on the bed of furs, “also, when were you going to mention that you can sing?”

His ears tint the slightest shade of red and he runs his large hands down the sides of your arms, shoulder to elbow, as a distraction, “shh, one thing at a time.”

“You know I’m going to make you sing for me later ri-“

You’re cut off when he presses one his long, lean fingers against your lips, “How about this, I’ll sing for you only if you at least try practicing simple seidr.”

You cringe at the thought of another embarrassing, failed attempt at spell-casting, but the promise of being serenaded puts your mind at ease.

“Alright.”

He smiles brilliantly at you, adorably giddy like a child. “Do you rememberer the sigil I showed you, the aegishjalmur?”

You try visualizing the relatively simple symbol in your mind, “I believe so.”

“Good, you’re going to try to do what I was doing when you walked in,” he tells you, “all you are going to do is try to produce the sigil in the air.”

He makes it look easy when he waves his hand, demonstrating the movements required.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs you, and you obey, “first, try to harness the power.”

“Easier said than done, Lokes.”

“I was getting there,” he teases gently, chuckling, “clear your mind, you’ll sense the pull of the seidr’s power if you focus.”

You try to do as he says, and when you feel no magical “pull”, you start to get frustrated and huff.

“It’s not working,” you almost cringe at how petulant you sound, but the embarrassment of yet another failed seidr attempt makes your face burn, and you’ve no doubt your face displays your crushed emotions as well. “Don’t you have a meeting or something to get to, anyway?”

“They’ll live. Besides, a king is never late,” he rubs soothing circles into the outsides of your thighs, just firm enough to calm you, light enough to not distract you.

You focus on your breathing, searching for that ever elusive “pull”. You’re about to give up hope when you see a ball of light flash behind your eyelids. You frown and try to follow it, like a magnet, it draws you towards it.

“I see something,” you tell Loki, your voice no longer containing the disconcerted tone of before, but a newfound sense of awe and excitement. “It’s some form of light? It’s drawing me towards it.”

“Draw it towards you, darling. You need to control it, harness it yourself or it will consume you.”

The warning, despite being delivered without any apprehension, sends a bolt of fear down your spine, the idea of being consumed by an unknown magical force doesn’t exactly sound fun. You find the burning ball again, but you don’t follow or entertain it when it darts about, instead willing it to come to you. The light becomes less fleeting but is still stubborn, so you try harder. You can’t help but feel ridiculous when you frown in concentration, using every bit of your will power and feeling quite like Eleven from Stranger Things in order to rope in the ball. After what seems like forever, the light finally falls within what you can only describe as your mental grasp.

“I have it!” You exclaim, grinning and letting out a small giggle in your exhilaration.

You hear Loki chuckle along with you. “Good, good. Place the seidr’s power in your hands.”

You drag the light closer to you, close enough to feel it’s power warm your chest, you direct that power to your fingertips the best that you can, but you’re not sure if it’s working.

“Open your eyes, love”

You slowly creak your eyes open to reveal a glowing, golden mist enveloping your hands. You squeal in shock and happiness, causing Loki to bark out a laugh.

“I’m actually doing it!”

“Indeed you are, darling,” he encourages with the biggest smile adorning his beautiful face. “You’re not done yet, though. Visualize the aegishjalmur, and trace the design in front of you if it helps.”

You do as much but for a moment, nothing happens. Refusing to allow yourself to get upset again, you try again, and the slightest outline of a circular symbol appears between your hands.

You gasp in elation and bite your lip in determination to make the sigil more visible. Slowly but surely, a golden aegishjalmur begins to glow brightly and proudly between Loki and you.

“I did it, baby!” You laugh and twirl the figure with your fingers.

Loki twists his hands in order to allow his own aegishjalmur to dance with yours.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Loki’s voice is low, just above a whisper.

“They are,” you reply without hesitation.

The green and gold sigils dance around each other, seeming to move to an inaudible rhythm. After a moment, you let yours fade away, a loopy grin etched onto your face.

“Thank you, Loki,” your eyes flicker up to meet his to find him watching you with a loving smile pulling at his own lips. Your breath hitches when his eyes flick down to your lips.

“You’re beautiful when you smile, you know that?” He’s already leaning towards you before he finishes complimenting you, and your lips meet before you have the chance to reply.

His mouth is warm and inviting, even in his Jotun form, he gently pushes you onto your back and moves over you. His hands make quick work with your hair, pushing it out of your face and allowing access to your neck. You feel your blush travel from your face to your chest and a low rumble erupts from his throat as he nips your jaw with his sharp teeth.

“Gorgeous,” he growls into the crevice between the corner of your jaw and the flesh just below your ear.

You sigh happily and intertwine your fingers into his hair, keeping him pressed hard against you.

“My King, your presence is requested in the throne room by her Highness Lady Fárbauti.”

The interruption takes you both by surprise and the whine of displeasure does not go unheard from the said King in your arms. His childishness would make you laugh if you weren’t frustrated from the intrusion yourself.

“Inform her Highness that the King will be down in just a moment,” he calls out in the vague direction of the door, his voice booming with an underlying tone of annoyance.

His earlier promise pops into your mind when he peels himself away from you.

“You owe me a song when you return,” the smile you give him is cheeky and his responding groan makes you cough out a laugh.

“I suppose a promise is a promise,” he reluctantly recedes as he smooths out his leather armor. “I’ll send for a servant to bring you food if you wish?”

“That sounds great,” you cross your arms behind your head, a blissed out expression adorning your features.

He leans down to place one last sweet, chaste kiss on your forehead, “In case you’ve fallen asleep before I return, rest easy my little drottning.”

[floralseokjin]

;big dick, big heart (m)

your new boyfriend has a really big dick

pairing | kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings | smut, a 9″ dick lmao, new relationship au, fluff words | 1,957

“Where the hell have you been hiding that?”

There’s pure shock in your voice. Mouth agape, eyes wide, heart on standstill as you have an internal breakdown over the size of the dick in front of you, hard and bobbing up and down in your line of sight.

“What do you mean?” Your boyfriend asks, perplexed by your sudden change in attitude. Not a minute before you’d been eagerly waiting for him to tear off his underwear, hellbent on getting your hands on him.

“The snake in your pants.” Voice deadpan, you really are trying to piece together the logics of all this. Granted, you haven’t seen many dicks in real life, but shit, you haven’t even seen something this size in porn. (Granted, you haven’t watched much, but still.)

“Oh, my god,” you mutter weakly, looking up at him instead of the giant flesh coloured pole between his legs. “Seokjin, it’s massive.”

“You’re making me self conscious.” He whines, hands attempting to cover his modesty. Ha! Good luck, even he can’t successfully accomplish that.

“How could you ever be self conscious with that hanging between your legs?” You gape, eyes back on the thing like you can’t look away. You really can’t. Yes, the shock has been a little debilitating but god, just imagining attempting to pleasure that makes your heat clench and pulse like no tomorrow. Despite the very satisfying orgasm he’s just given you.

It’s beautiful. If a dick can be beautiful. Smooth, and long, and thick...and shit, you don’t even think your mouth can cope with it, let alone your poor vagina.

You could die trying. Imagine that. Death by your boyfriend’s humongous dick. New boyfriend! That’s why the shock is so much. Didn’t he think to tell you he was hiding a 6 foot rod that is surely capable of splitting you in half?! You’re just glad you haven’t agreed to go all the way tonight. Romance in stages. Although you realise now that ogling him like he’s some sort of animal at a zoo isn’t very romantic. Either way, you need that extra time to prepare. Your mouth aches at what’s to come right now though.

“I regret the ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ idea now,” he mutters, almost pitifully, and perhaps that would be believable if he didn’t have your arousal dried across his mouth and chin.

Still, you don’t want to give him a complex. You’re going to suck his dick tonight. You’ve been wanting to jump his bones since the night of your first date. Although definitely thankful you waited a few weeks now. You may have passed out from the shock with a decision that soon. 

Ten minutes later Seokjin is lying in a pool of his own sweat, body flushed, panting for breath, gritting his words out, fists clenched in your hair as you gorge yourself around the monster.

“Fffuck, tthis is so hot.” You feel like a slobbering idiot, but you take his word for it. Your fist is soaked in your own saliva, moving vigorously across the base of the biggest dick you’ve ever pleasured as your mouth tries to take care of the rest.

He cums down your throat. You’re sure it’s a lot more than you’re usually used to. The bigger the dick, the bigger the cumload. That’s your logic anyway.... Maybe also bigger the ego.... He sure has a dirty mouth on him.

“You need to practice, baby,” he tells you two minutes later, mid kiss, your jaw aching. “For when I fuck you.”

Your vagina begins preparing itself for a beautiful death.

x

It’s 9 inches. nine inches. 9”. However you want to write it, it still translates to fucking massive. You make him measure it to the exact centimetre and share his findings on your Friday date night. Of course it rounds up perfectly. He looks embarrassed as you have your dick discussion over a candlelit dinner, an audience of about forty others if they happen to be listening in to your hushed conversation.

You want to know how he’s just been walking around so casually with a monster in his pants. It is increasingly above average so there’s no point acting clueless. (He does.) How come past dates and girlfriends haven’t brought it up? He says he can’t remember if they did or not. Honestly, his dick has never been this much of a conversation starter... You gasp. Thinking you’ve finally cracked it. Maybe a dick that length actually kills a person. Maybe he’s a serial killer... He just laughs fondly and calls you overdramatic. Well... you are a writer. Maybe if writing magazine articles goes down the drain, you can take up fiction writing. Thriller novels. Death by Dick would be your first work. (If you didn’t literally die from said death this weekend.) 

Seokjin apologies unnecessarily, but asks you how he could’ve possibly slipped it into conversation if he had known anyway? “Hey, I know this is our first date, but just a heads up, I have a 9″ inch penis, so maybe mull that over before you agree to a second...” That makes you snort loudly, wine nearly exploding from your nostrils, and it definitely gains the attention of the neighbouring tables. Your embarrassed, but he takes your hand in his, caressing the skin with his thumb. 

While sharing a moment, he tells you that you can always wait a little longer if you were feeling a nervous, which is cute of him. But you’ve waited long enough, and real talk, you don’t think your vagina will ever be ready enough, so may as well bite the incredibly large bullet sooner rather than later...

x

“It’s not going in.”

24 hours later and you’re more than panicked. Definitely overthinking it. You’d been up the night before googling “how to tell if you have a shallow vagina.” You’d also been two seconds away from messaging your last boyfriend “how big is your penis?” before you realised you were delirious from no sleep and dick worry.

“Will you just chill out,” Seokjin chuckles lowly, kissing your forehead. “I haven’t even tried yet.” That much was true. Admittedly he was just rubbing his dick against you.

You tense a little when you feel him begin to press against your entrance, fingers digging into his back unintentionally.

“Now, I’m trying,” he says, his voice doing things to you. It’s deeper than you’ve ever heard it. Maybe if you just concentrate on how hot he is, he’ll just slip inside unnoticed.

“How far is it?” You ask a moment later (nice try). You know he’s penetrated, just need to know how much.

“About 2 inches.” You groan, impatient. He laughs, kissing your mouth. “Just calm down, baby.” As his lips meet your neck, you let your eyes close, sinking into the feeling as he pushes deeper, beginning to thrust shallowly. He rubs your clit too, body instantly getting hotter. 

“You’re so wet. I made you so wet.” Seokjin murmurs, almost like he’s reassuring you. He has made you very wet. You’re quickly realising how talented he is with his fingers. He’s stretched you out ever so helpfully.

“Mhmokay.”

Seokjin has already told you he’ll take it slow, knowing how nervous you are, which is sweet of him. If you really think about it, say your exes all had 6 inch penises, all you needed to do was to make room for three more extra inches, and that really wasn’t much at all. It was doable. The women before you had managed. You’re just a worrier. 

Three inches, you remind yourself. Easy. But then... 6 + 3 still makes nine. You’ll still be stuffed 9 inches deep regardless, and he’s just getting deeper with each slow thrust. Oh, god... Where do the excess inches even go? Your guts?!

“You’re tensing.” Damn, your body is betraying you, and just like that, Seokjin pulls out. The loss is frustrating. You’ve been so distracted, you haven’t had time to concentrate on the pleasure. He begins rubbing his dick against your folds though, coating you and him in your arousal and it just gets you hornier. Now, if only your mind can stop betraying you, that would be nice.

“It’s kinda hard not to when you’re about to be impaled to death,” you whine. (Fuck you mind.) 

“Shut up,” he quips with a smile, but he’s out of breath, slightly impatient. You can tell as he slips to your entrance once more. “Try again? I only had like 3 inches left.”

You nod. Okay, back to your original thought process. Three inches. Doable. He begins to push inside you again. Easily this time, already warned up and your arms wrap around his neck, kissing his mouth eagerly. This time you don’t forget to concentrate on the pleasure. “Keep on like that. Slowly. Bit by bit.” You want to quit the thrusting for now and just feel him fully.

“Metre by metre.” He jokes. Yeah, you’ve definitely inflated his ego. That’s what being a dramatic bitch will do to a guy with a massive dick. But you’re progressively feeling fuller, so you can’t think of a comeback. Only a little whimper leaves you involuntarily.

“Is it uncomfortable?” He asks, immediately noticing.

“A little—no!” You wail, when he pulls out straight away. You reach for his dick immediately. The feel of the hot, hard flesh turning you desperate. “Why did you pull out?! You were nearly there!”

”I don’t want to hurt you.” He replies, but his gaze is on your hands, rubbing his dick against you, and now you can feel how wet you are yourself. The relief is immense. You can take on the world. You can take on your boyfriend’s 9 inch penis!

“You’re not. I promise,” you tell him, kissing him sweetly, wondering what you did to deserve such a caring man. A hot, caring man. You really lucked out there. Your friends are super jealous. They’ll be even more so when you tell them about tonight.

However, despite your reassurance he still seems a little reluctant. “Maybe we should try again another time...”

“No—!” You practically shout, clinging to him. “Nooo. Seokjin, I want you. I need you.” He can’t say no to that. He practically whimpers. Soon enough pushing back inside.

“You have the patients of a saint,” you murmur, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He chuckles, breathing laboured. “As soon as I bottom out I’m coming.”

He doesn’t. You’re thankful. He somehow holds back until you’ve cum first. Which actually doesn’t take long. Seokjin takes it slow at first, making sure to stretch you out carefully until you’re pretty much begging him to go a little faster. He obliges until all you can feel is his dick. You’re solely existing for the monster living in his pants. Only now you feel mean for calling it that, because all it cares about is your pleasure.

The secret to a g-spot orgasm? A really big dick! You cum hard. It obliterates all your senses. Makes you stiffen, convulse around him. You’re seeing stars for a good ten minutes afterwards. Aware Seokjin has cum too, but way too out of your mind to give him the proper attention. You’ll make up for it next time. You won’t be so dazed. (Maybe.)

“Oh, god,” you exclaim shortly after, finally finding your voice as he showers your body in kisses. “That was really something.”

He laughs, lifting his head to place a kiss on your lips. “You changed your tune.”

Indeed you have. Like you said, you’re a big worrier. Most things turn out fine. In this instance, it turned out life changing...

[btgalaxy]

Moonlight - Jungkook wolf!au

➳ pairing: jungkook x reader

➳ genre: wolf!au, a little bit of everything tbh; angst, fluff, smut

➳ word count: 4.6k

warnings: oral sex, fingering

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Chapter 9

When Jungkook wakes, you’re still vulnerable in a deep slumber, weighing down on one of his arms. His eyes slowly focus in on the ceiling, feeling only the warm gusts of breath against his palm from your slightly parted lips. Why does he have to be so impulsive sometimes? It’s like he can’t hold back, as much as he wants to and tells himself it’s not the right course of action he just cannot stop himself from submitting to his inner Alpha instincts telling him to go crazy. And you thinking he doesn’t want you? You couldn’t be more wrong.

Everyday he ends up at the packhouse after leaving you in the morning, only able to envision the sight of you with strands of hair strewn across your face, sticking to your lips and your silk nightdress looming dangerously low on your chest to reveal some of the supple flesh that makes him want to reach out and trace the curve of your breast, feeling the way you automatically press into him. He wants it so badly. He agonises everyday with his hand down the front of his jeans behind his desk, rapidly searching for something to relieve this paralysing ache, but he’s never left fully satisfied. He still yearns for more, for you.

You stir slightly in your sleep, turning around to face him and nuzzle into his bare chest and his arm tightens around your form, gently running his fingertips along the skin of your arm. All he wants to do is protect you. He couldn’t bear seeing you hurt; it might nearly kill him. Even worse, the thought of you being in another man’s arms, kissing him, caring for him, loving him. He subconsciously curls around you closer. He can’t think about that.

In fact, he doesn’t want to find the Hoseok boy from your old pack; he doesn’t want to know anything about the little shit, but he’ll do it for you. If it at least stops you from contacting that damn unmated Alpha Taehyung from Crimson Lake then he’ll do anything. And he truly does want to see you happy- something he isn’t entirely sure he’s experienced much of since you got here, so, despite being angry finding you on the phone to that imbecile Alpha, he’ll do it. Stupid fuckin’ Taehyung.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before slipping from your grip and the security of the duvet and staggering over to the cupboard to yank a jumper from the hanger, but not before he notices a broken piece of cardboard that flies to his feet. He leans down and takes it between his thumb and forefinger, glancing at your sleeping form briefly to check you’re still dead asleep, then brings out the rest of the box.

“Shit,” he mutters quietly to himself. The lid is broken. The lid has been broken by someone, and that someone would never be Jin, he wouldn’t have the nerve, nor Jimin- he knows all about Jungkook’s history already. It has to have been you. He swallows down the bile biting at his throat when he sees a glimpse of himself and his father many years ago; a brief slice of history sized down into a tiny polaroid, coated now in a thin layer of dust. He swiftly places the broken top back on, shoving the whole thing back into the cupboard and retrieving a jumper, deftly ignorant to the reality.

It’s a good few hours later that you wake up, still feeling Jungkook’s phantom touch across your skin, lingering like twilight hues. His scent is smothered over the bed sheets, so you bury your face into the fabric and just inhale deeply, already missing his arms around, holding you protectively. How can he go from being such a gorgeous, affectionate mate to some crazy, possessive Alpha overnight? He’s not the only one suffering from migraines at the hands of this relationship.

Reluctant to leave the aroma, you groan to get up, clicking your neck back and sliding from the cushioned mattress to your feet, barely awake as you meander into the bathroom to wet your face and brush your teeth.

“Y/N?” Jin’s voice echoes from outside your room. You hum loudly in response, prompting his entrance.

“You look well-slept,” he smiles slightly from the doorframe, watching you brush your teeth with hooded eyes.

You try to mumble a retort with a mouthful of foaming water, but the most you come out with is an indistinguishable grunt with bits of toothpaste spattering on the floor.

“Red Moon’s Luna everyone,” Jin applauds sarcastically, eyes glossing with amusement.

You spit into the sink, “Funny.”

“I like to think I am.”

You pat your mouth dry with the towel, wiping away the excess on your lips before sighing, “So what’s the plan for today?”

Jin slumps against the side of the door, crossing his arms over, “Well, Alpha gave me this phone and told me-“

“He gave you your own phone?” Your eyes swell with jealousy, focusing in on the small device your guard pulls from his pocket.

He softly retreats, “Yes… he did… he told me that I should wait for his text, and in the meantime there are some board games in the cupboard in his office…”

Your eyes are still glazing over his pocket, holding the small cell, “But your own phone…”

“Why is that such a big deal?” He laughs, but you can see he’s a tad unnerved by your obsession.

You sigh, despondently, “I wish he trusted me that much.”

Jin laughs at your misery, ushering you to get ready, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Jin wins four rounds of monopoly, but you’re sure he’s stealing from the bank. Then he beats you at Scrabble too, and cards. Cheat, rummy, sevens, trumps. You aren’t particularly good at those types of things anyhow, never have been. And Jin seems to be some kind of a professional, with all of his fancy shuffling and smug moves. You nearly want to strangle him.

During one game of Cluedo, you fake going to the bathroom, to hide around the corner and peer out into the lounge to see him swiftly peeking at the result cards. You huff quietly, grimacing acutely at the sight in front of you.

“I knew you were cheating!” You jump out.

Jin’s head snaps up towards you, hands frantically recoiling from small pack of cards centre of the board, “What? Luna-“

“Don’t Luna me!”

“I didn’t cheat!”

“I watched you!”

“You were in the toilet!”

You continue to bicker like this what feels like endlessly, countering each other with even the pettiest of retorts, but you’re stubborn and he’s too proud. You, however, are also immensely lazy and can’t be arsed to fight with him for hours on end.

“Whatever, I’m sick of board games anyway,” you grumble, surrendering and taking a seat on the sofa behind him curled up on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“We could watch some TV?” He suggests, clambering to his feet.

“I wanna go for a run,” you announce, making him still, “My wolf has been cooped up for quite a while now.”

You’re aware it’s awkward, bringing this up after last time. But truly your wolf hasn’t gone for a run for nearly a couple of weeks now, and back at Scarlet Oak you were out all the time with Hobi or your father, or pack runs. Do they even have those here?

“Luna, we should wait for Alpha Jungkook’s text.” His voice is firm and official, and you hate how he’s so compliant to his Alpha’s commands, unlike you. You guess if you were at the butt of Jungkook’s wraith you might feel the same though.

You exhale deliberately loud, throwing your head back to look up into the spherical chandelier bulbs, “Well we’ve got to do something because I’ll go out of my mind if I have to play with a cheater any longer.”

Jin frowns, “So… TV then?”

“I wanna eat something.”

“I can do food,” he nods mostly to himself, turning gently on his heel and striding towards the kitchen. You immediately rise to your feet, taking a blanket from the sofa and wrapping it round your shoulders to pad behind him, trailing over to the breakfast bar.

You slide onto one of the stools, settling your elbows on the surface and placing your head in your hands, eyes scrutinising his every move like a hawk surveying its prey. It’s instantly clear cooking isn’t something new to the man, the way he glides from one ingredient to the next, effortlessly bringing about a scent that could nearly beat the one of your mate, lingering in your bedsheets.

You wait for some time in silence, watching him throw ingredients into a pot and slowly begin to stir.

“Do you like to cook?” The corner of your lips poke upwards into your cheeks slightly, blossoming beneath your eyes.

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder at you, “My mother showed me how. Said she doesn’t want my mate to be stuck with someone that can’t cook, like my dad.” You smile brighter in response, lying down your arms and placing your cheek to rest on the back of your hand.

“What are your family like?”

Jin continues to stir in the stainless steel pot bubbling on the stove, “Well, my dad’s obviously an Epsilon, like I am. And my mother was just a normal pack wolf, whose rank was raised ever so slightly by my dad. They pester each other a lot, but they love each other.”

“Any siblings?” You poke further into his personal life, enjoying the ability to pry freely, unlike your meddling into Jungkook’s family life.

“Nope, just me. I was a nightmare child apparently- enough to put my parents off having another,” he admits, and your teeth clamp over your lip as you let out a laugh.

“God, I couldn’t picture that,” you tease, tapping your nails against the marble counter.

“Shut up and eat your food,” he shakes his head, bringing over the pot and placing it between the two of you on the table then retrieving two bowls from one of the cupboards. “Hope you like soup.”

You shrug teasingly, before smiling at his grimacing expression and taking a mouthful. Your father says that soup is good for the soul, soothing for it. Then he’d make a joke about how it’s the sweat or tears of some chicken God which you used to pray to as a kid, thinking you’d be blessed with more chicken. It was a long shot, you always knew, but you still liked the idea.

You were always very prone to outside influences, picking up different habits and concepts from those around you. Hobi you took a lot from; the two of you think the same way. After years spent alongside each other, nearly joined at the hip, you became alarmingly similar, from everything down to the position you sleep in. It unsettles the food digesting to think about him though, where he is, what state he’s in. You focus back on Jin, who’s pulled out the cell-phone from his pocket to glaze over the screen.

“What is it?” You ask, bringing another spoonful of broth to your lips, “Is it Jungkook?”

Jin nods, taking a mouthful himself, “He says we should go down to him as soon as possible.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” And he begins speeding up with his food.

It’s mid-afternoon by the time you finish and clean up everything, bundling into Jin’s jeep with profound haste. You miss your mate already, his scent only lingering faintly around the house leaving you with just enough to want more. You’re trying hard not to become completely dependent on him, his love- if anything were to happen to him, you don’t want to be left empty and lonely, or just be too co-dependent either way. You value your individualism, and don’t want to be clouded by your wolf’s constant yearning for her mate, but it seems that’s easier said than done.

The town is quiet, as usual. Just a few pack wolves about a strip of greenery, hosting a BBQ for their families. It’s so unbelievably mundane you envy the whole carefree atmosphere, with some of the older wolves shifted and racing across the turf at top speed, whirring by like a blur. You sigh, resting your head against the doorframe of the jeep and running your teeth over your lower lip. You aren’t sure if life will ever be that same level of easiness again.

Reaching a meeting room in the pack house, Jungkook and Jimin are sat across from each other at a large oak table, conversing tensely over something you’re uninformed of. Jungkook spots you immediately, but he doesn’t smile, he looks concerned, agitated, and your stomach starts to churn.

“What is it?” You ask, blatantly. You can already see something’s wrong, and you don’t want to beat around the bush like he does with every other uncomfortable subject. Him and his Beta exchange a knowing look, your mate rising to his feet seconds later to come and greet you with a hand to your waist.

“Did you have a good day?” He asks, ignorantly.

You frown in response, looking past him at Jimin, “What is it?”

The Beta freezes under your glare, glancing to his lap as Jungkook sighs, pulling you closer, “We looked into the Hoseok case,” he reveals, holding you against him to soften the blow of anxiety that drains you of any other emotion.

Your skin pales, “Hobi? You’ve found him?” You swallow back the apprehension nipping at your mind, “You- Is he…” You try not to think the worst, but the whole situation speaks otherwise.

Jungkook brings you to sit down at the table, gently caressing your side, “He’s not dead.”

You can finally breathe at the words, exhaling and closing your eyes to restore your shattering heart at the thought of your best friend’s death.

Then Jungkook speaks again, “But he was seen by an Epsilon near Red Moon, with a man identified as Min Yoongi.” What?

It doesn’t make any sense. Yoongi with Hobi? You never even met Yoongi, let alone Hobi. Why on earth were they together near Red Moon? Why the hell is Hobi even near Red Moon? The last time you saw him was with your father in Scarlet Oak, perhaps upset you were leaving, but nothing insinuated he would follow you all the way here. Is that what he’s doing? Following you? But then why wouldn’t he answer his phone? Your head spins.

“With Yoongi? Yoongi as in June’s…,” you struggle to label the relationship, “June’s- June’s ex?” But June slept with Hobi, so why would the two of them get all buddy-buddy?

“We confirmed it over the phone with her today,” Jimin tells you from the other side of the table, pushing across his phone to show a text image to June. The picture isn’t of Hobi, but for the first time you see Yoongi. He’s handsome, of course. You expect nothing less of a boyfriend of June’s. But something about him looks so deadly sinister, his jaw clenched and lips pursed into a tight line as he leans against a tree, eyeing the landscape cautiously.

“What’s he doing?” You mutter, reaching for the device, but before you’re able to, Jungkook draws your attention.

“We haven’t made any correlations yet, but I have certain theories,” he mumbles, looking off to the side with a subtle anger burning behind his eyes.

You turn towards him, “Theories?”

“We’ll look into it more for you, and as soon as we have some definite answers you’ll be the first to know, okay?”

You nod slowly, numbly, unable to look him in the eye, enveloped in a hurricane of anxiety and panic.

“Jin, you can go home. I’ll drive Y/N back.”

Your mate guides you towards his car, but it all seems like a dream, the tension and confusion leaving you lost. He opens the door for you and you slide in, swallowing back the concern as you buckle yourself into the seat.

Maybe Yoongi is mad at Hobi for sleeping with June? Is Hobi safe? What if Yoongi dragged Hobi over to Red Moon so that Jungkook would deal with him? But, Jungkook wouldn’t do that, would he? Not after everything that’s happened- he wouldn’t do that, surely-

“You okay?” The voice brings you from your spiralling thoughts, like a soothing velvet to your ears. You look over at him, suddenly unsure how you feel about the situation – aside from sheer anxiety – and you don’t know if he’s telling you the full truth.

“I guess so,” you announce, exhaling deeply, “But it doesn’t make sense, why would they both be here? Why wouldn’t Hobi tell me anything? He didn’t even know Yoongi!” You know better than to expect a straightforward response, so the Alpha’s silence is what you settle for. You’re irritated and stressed, yes, but you don’t want to argue with him now. Not after today.

Soon enough, the car is pulling up in front of the house and you hesitantly open the door and follow an awaiting Jungkook.

“Is there anything you need?” The uncertainty in his tone depicts his own worries; that if he doesn’t divulge all his secrets that you’ll drift away again, and that gaping void that lingers in your past will break through again and pull you apart. You surprise him when you simply walk over to him however, and wrap your arms around his waist, his scent relaxing you as it always does, bringing you a much needed escape from the hauntings in your head. Your body begins to regain feeling, and you realise just how exhausted you are from the stress. You fall into his arms, and he’s quick to keep you up and steady.

“Do you want to take a nap or something?” He mumbles into your hair, but you press against him harder instead of responding, moulding your body into his and holding the front of his top in knuckled hands.

“I actually have something for you.”

He separates away from your body with a slight smile, jogging round to his desk to pull open one of the drawers and pull out a small box. You rips back the tape and pulls the top apart to reveal a little camera inside, with a long cable draping out the back.

“Here, I bought a webcam, so you can call your dad on the office computer,” he offers, looking at you hopefully.

You can’t help but smile, nearly distracted by the thought of seeing your father’s face again after so long. You speak on the phone with him everyday but it’s not the same as a face to face conversation, and you miss the way his eyes wrinkle when he smiles, and the lines on his forehead from frowning at books he doesn’t agree with. You can’t wait for whenever he’ll next visit you in Red Moon.

You eagerly sit in Jungkook’s office chair in front of the computer as the screen buffers and loads, till the screen pops up and your dad’s face is frozen.

“Dad,” you smile, seeing him in the lounge frowning down at his laptop like the old man struggling with technology that he is.

“Is it working?” He mumbles, faffing with the angle.

“Yes, it is,” you laugh slightly, looking up at your mate with an appreciative grin.  

Your dad squints at the screen, grazing over your form, “Is Alpha Jungkook there?” Jungkook comes into the frame, leaning down beside you.

Your mate slides his hand onto your thigh and you place yours over it, “You can call him Jungkook, I’m sure he won’t care.” Full well knowing he would care, he squeezes your leg making you squirm with a small giggle, staring you down.

“Oh, of course, Jungkook,” your father’s voice resonates through the speakers.

“He loves it.” You tell him, Jungkook’s eyes still trained on the side of your head.

About an hour later and you still haven’t run out of things to talk about with your dad. You aren’t sure that you ever will. After hanging up you still don’t feel fully satisfied, but your thankful your mate stayed and talked to him too the whole time. When you were younger, you used to go to a school with human children, and as you grew up they all started dating and your friends getting boyfriends and girlfriends, and one thing that was always incredibly important to them was their parent’s blessing. It’s slightly different in the wolf world- you only ever have one mate and so for the parents to dislike them would be unimportant anyway, you aren’t finding anyone different. It still makes you happy, though, that your father seems to like him, that they converse over the recent football game and speak casually to each other. You crave your dad’s blessing, the same way those human kids did too.

You kiss your mate hard on the mouth once your father’s face is off the screen, holding him there by his shirt till you feel contented with the thank you. He leans in again as you pull back, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

“Thank you for that,” you tell him, “And thank you for finding out about Hobi.”

He brings you to your feet to pull your waist against him, pressing into his groin, “I’ll do anything for you.” He kisses you on the lips again, then slowly travelling to your cheeks and down your jaw along to your neck.

You become entranced in the way he feels, legs nearly failing if he wasn’t holding you up with an arm now curled possessively around your back. He gently suckles on the skin by your collarbone, flattening out his tongue against the flesh every now and then to soothe the irritation, blooming into a deep purple flower on your chest. It's at this moment that everything comes flooding back you were briefly distracted from; Hobi, Yoongi, Red Moon, Rogues- everything.

“Do you think you’ll find him?” You pant, raking your fingers through your mates hair, still firmly attached to your neck. “I just don’t want him to be hurt and it’s difficult for-“

“Stop worrying.” He pulls back momentarily to mumble at you, then going back to the mark on your neck and grazing his teeth over the bite to send a rush of endorphins pulse through you, straight down to your centre. You instinctively convulse against him, releasing a choked moan as he outlines the small indentations of the scar.

“Let me calm you down,” he mutters, running his nose up your jaw and cupping your chin to press hard against your mouth, gently caressing your lips with the silk of his own. Jungkook’s heart rate picks up when you don’t protest, and you’re slowly guided to the sofa in the lounge, pushed over the arm rest onto your back, watching as he deliberately climbs on top you.

He wantonly kisses down your chest, his hands slithering up beneath your top to your waist where his touch burns like fire on the flesh. You can barely breathe as the fabric is hitched up to your bra, and Jungkook rims your navel with the tip of his tongue, sensually rotating his jaw to mark the revealed skin. It feels foreign to have someone so close to your core, gliding down so leisurely to savour every taste of you like one would a Michelin star meal, the excitement pools in your stomach and leaves you churning for more. The wet, underside of his lips falls down your stomach to the top of your jeans and he gently pulls open the button, the zip down.

You moan softly as you push up your hips to allow for the jeans to roll over your legs, your mate falling lower with them to slide the material from your ankles and you hastily kick them away. He smirks at your eagerness, but doesn’t make any teasing comment like you’d expect. He’s far too turned on for that, engrossed in your body’s ministrations as he explores your every pleasure.

There’s a moment when he looks at you from between your legs, a silent inquiry to pull down the white thong concealing your sex, and you respond by exhaling, lulling your head back and shutting your eyes to drown in his intoxicating touch. The small strip of fabric effortlessly grazes down your thighs to rest on your knees, revealing your core and you suddenly feel incredibly vulnerable, revealed, embarrassed. You attempt to squeeze them together, but the Alpha growls and spreads them apart again with his palms.

“Don’t,” he grunts, eyes burning with a fervent lust you’ve never seen before- you thought you never would see. You never believed someone could ever look so crazy for you, driven so primitive and animalistic by a hunger for your body’s reactions.

He suddenly delves into your cleft, tongue parting the sensitive tissues and plunging into your centre. Your hips jolt at the impact, an arm slamming against the back of the couch to grip onto the pillow as you struggle away, but his hold doesn’t relent, face still buried shamelessly in your centre.

“Stop moving,” he growls again, diving into the slick flesh with his velvet tongue gently pulsing against your clit to make your back arch and hips churn. Your body yields to his every touch, rocking parallel to his movements as his hand descends to your inner thigh, and one digit gently presses into your core. You can’t think of anything but how good it feels for him to touch you, taste you, eat you  like his last meal. You could cry in pleasure, lost entirely to his silky touch, fundamentally possessive as he brings you closer to him.

“God,” you whine, teeth clamping over your lip to stop your squirming, your free hand now clutching the back of your mate’s hair to encourage his lubricious attention to your dripping centre. The finger gliding in and out of you with his sinful rocking makes you jerk suddenly, as it curls upwards to graze euphoria and the coil snaps in your stomach.

The waves of your climax rush over you in a scream-inducing, toe-curling orgasm that leaves you quaking violently, trembling as he continues to lap up your writhing cleft, tongue still thrusting against you and one finger stroking the sensitive bundle of flesh. It seems to drag on for an eternity, rolling through you relentlessly and vibrating you both as the tears spill unwilling from your eyes down your temples.

“Enough, enough,” you whimper, pushing his head back with your hands as he thankfully retreats, leaving the pink, swollen core bare and exposed to him; he’s never seen something so fucking salacious in his life, and if he could he’d carry on eating you till you physically couldn’t take anymore, unable to stand and sore the next morning. He wants to devour you.

As he pulls your pants back up your legs, you begin to come around, catching your breath and wetting your lips to see the raging boner beneath his jeans, looking somewhat painful to endure. You still feel a little high from your climax, and with a gentle pursing of your lips you lean forwards to the belt of hi jeans, but he stops you immediately. You frown, a little muddled as to why you can’t touch him.

“But- but,” you fumble over the words, “You- I didn’t-“

He smiles and interrupts you with another kiss, hands curling possessively around you bare waist to hold your form beneath him, “Baby, the second you put your hands on me like that I’ll lose it. And seeing you like that was enough for me to remember for later.” He winks and you bring your hands up to cover your face with an embarrassed groan, curling into his chest, vibrating with laughter. You’re crazy for him.

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[soradragon]

A Change Within

This is the fourth and fifth prompt of the 57 week challenge hosted by the lovely @sdavid09 ^^

This took far too long to finnish, school and other things got in the way, but I did it! After many atemps hehe...

This story is from an AU I made myself ( I still don’t have a name for it) I had so much fun (and frustration in a good way) making this! 

I hope you guys like it!^^

Warnings: Bit of gore, mentions of death, angst, and more I think??

Prompts: A seed of doubt has been planted, will it grow or weeded out? Gone was the timid child they once knew, in their place stood a determined woman

Slightly Leonardo x oc if you squint

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Anyway, Enjoy^^

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"We'll lose more supplies and people then we gain from that girl, if it keeps going like this then we should've ignored that van like I told you guys from the start!"

"let's not get hasty bro-"

"No, Raph's right...As much as I hate to say this, it's true, we cannot sacrifice so many supplies and people for just one person...especially if we don't gain valuable things in return, we can't forget the many mouths we need to feed."

She muted out the rest. Having no need to listen any longer, the new information was more than enough...

She didn't blame them...how could she? It was all true...

Regarding the circumstances, it would've been only a matter of time... until the subject would be addressed.

She just thought, or more precisely hoped that it would be much later than sooner...

Liquid dripped onto her bare palms, warming the chilled hands only a bit. She looked down at them, choking out a sob when she saw the brown string tied around her left wrist with a knot.

"There! Now you'll only have to look at it and think of me, and I'll chase those mean monsters away!"

The tears ran down her face faster, her chest began to tighten, she swallowed, trying to get rid of the bile in her throat.

She blinked, the glistening tears in her hands trembled as they let go a trail of the colour red.

It bled all over her palms, painting her hands bloody, tickling down her wrists and arms onto the grass and boots.

A silent scream of terror left her lips as she stared at her bloody hands, her whole body trembling.

"E-every...T-thing...w-wi-il be...al-lr-righ...t....r-right...?"

She could hear the weak sobs and coughs through his scared voice.

"Y-yes! Everything w-will be al-alright, don't - don't you worry..."

"...Pr-promise...?"

She couldn't breathe, it was all too real...the pain, too unbearable...

The blood, trickling down his chin... he was scared...yet, he smiled...

"I...I-I promise."

Promises...aren't meant to be made...

*(*)*(*)*

"Norah, concentrate!"

She gritted her teeth as she slashed her sword down onto the dummy, slightly gracing the side of the head.

"Are you trying to get yourself or your teammates killed!? Hit the stupid dummy!"

Norah tried to ignore the taunting words, putting all her energy in her arms, raising the heavy sword above her head. Sweat ran down her back and brow. She gripped the sword tighter, trying to keep it in her clammy hands.

It tilted a bit backwards before she slashed it downward with a roar.

Hitting the dummy in the shoulder.

A laugh full of relief left her lips.

"I did it!"

"Good job. Now get the sword out of it."

Norah glanced towards the lizard mutant who looked at her expectantly with his arms crossed. Waiting for her to make a move.

He had taken the time to help train her with the sword after Raphael gave up, giving her the chance to humour him, he kept going even though she was so bad at it. Really testing his patience and calmness, he was good at it. 

He hadn't screamed once at her in anger.

Though, she had noticed his tail swishing back and forth in impatience, betraying his real emotions.

But still, she was thankful he didn't give up on her, even though she felt like giving up herself...

Norah grasped the handle of the sword with two hands, trying to yank it out.

It was stuck.

'You've got to be kidding...'

*(*)*(*)*

She felt so hopeless, useless from the moment she entered the camp.  

The poor girl had been stuck in bed for two months... to recover from the hell her body went through, she had to literally regain the capacity to move her entire body to fully function again.

A strange foreign wound, she didn't even know it existed, caused her body to shut down and paralysed her for weeks, it left a scar inside her body...

Making it hard to lift and do things smoothly with any kind of heavy objects,

She couldn't even move when wearing heavy armour.

Norah sat on the ground. Leaning her back against the silken material of the tent, resting her chin on her knees, listening to the many footsteps, chimes and noises of armour and weaponry being carried around the camping site.

An attack was soon to be taken place at the High-Ground, everyone was preparing for it.

And Norah had been shooed away from helping, being told multiple times she shouldn't go even near anything remotely heavy, cause of the fear she would do more harm than good.

She felt like she was treated like a small child, a child who's been scolded for touching a very expensive vase and accidentally breaking it.

So here she was, sitting inside her tent curled up in herself, even though she wanted to storm out and demand to let her at least help.

But, on the other hand, they were right.

Every time Norah tried to help something would happen, a pot with food or water would break, armour would be dented, metals or other stuff would be scattered all over the floor.

The words of the four leaders from a week ago still echo throughout her head, it pained her to hear them. She wanted to deny what they said, wanted to prove that they were wrong, but, a seed of doubt had already been planted inside of her. 

It slowly drowned the hope she had with thorns.

She couldn't make herself deny the accusing words, after all.

They were true. Three lives lost because she couldn't fight, couldn't act fast enough...

Whenever a tear fell, the plant would grow, jabbing into her flesh with its sharp thorns.

Every time something went wrong, the plant would let its roots crawl further and deeper, making it harder and harder to weed it out.

Norah gripped the fabric of her tent, watching as the troops left the camp. Children and the wounded stayed behind, waving at the departing troops, wishing them a safe trip and praying for a secure return.

*(*)*(*)*

"MIKEY!! GET OUT OF THERE!!"

Leonardo roared, pulling his youngest brother away in the nick of time from an oncoming barrage of laser blasts, which penetrated the ground into misshapen smoking holes where Mikey just stood not a second ago.

the turtle in orange stared wide eyes at the holes, his mouth formed a silent 'oh' before letting out a breath. "Thanks, bro..."

Leonardo gave a silent nod, glaring at the bots across the field, shooting laser blasts from their foreign high-tech weapons.

The leader in blue cursed softly under his breath. He hadn't considered the possibility of the Krang fighting their own battle.

He struck his enemy horizontally across the chest area, watching as the brainwashed mutant crumpled down onto the ground, clutching it's bleeding chest, and letting out gurgling noises.

Leo closed his eyes for a moment, seeing flashes of memories going past his eyes, too fast to make any sense of them. Emotions of all kind spread throughout his body before he pushed them away, deep, deep into his unconsciousness.

He opened his eyes again, gripping his katana in both hands. And struck with a restrained sigh down into the back, through the chest.

Sounds of screams and metal clashing against metal flooded into his system. He pulled the katana from the body, slashing downward to get rid of the dark red blood trickling down the blade made of steel.

Leonardo was about to run into the fray again when he heard a shout full of panic. He turned his head to the side. Keeping one eye on the battle before him. And on the person who called out to them from behind. Running at them like a manic while screaming.

"THE......AR.....H....RE.....!!!"

Leonardo's blood ran cold...

*(*)*(*)*

Norah had just fallen asleep when a scream of bloody murder tore through the camp.

Scaring the crap out of Norah, who fell out of her bed in shock.

She hurriedly stood back up while staggering towards the tent's entrance, "what the heck is going on!?"

She wanted to ask, but she already had her answer.

Crazy mutants stormed through the camp, slashing and destroying everything that came into their path.

Norah stood frozen stiff, watching with wide eyes as the mutants chased after the people. Some tried to fight them, but since almost all of the weapons were gone with the troops...

There wasn't much to fight with.

Norah trembled. What could she do? She was helpless...Couldn't even fight to save herself...

A roar shook her out of her trance, she stared straight into the scared eyes of a young boy, cowering in a corner, trying to hide from the mutants.

It snapped something within her when she saw a mutant stalking towards him.

Norah sprinted forward towards the boy, tackling him. 

The impact was just strong enough to knock herself and the boy a couple meters away from the mutant.

Norah looked down at the shivering boy beneath her, she quickly glanced over her shoulder, seeing the mutant stomp on the crate where the boy just had been hiding.

"Come on, we need to hide."

She whispers, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a random tent, leaning her back against the fabric of the tent trying to tell if a mutant went towards them.

"We have to warn the troops..."

Norah muttered to herself, looking back at the sobbing boy.

"Hey...are you okay?"

She softly asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder, he trembled, gasping for air as he shook his head.

"I-I'm scared....D-don't let them t-take me...!"

He sobbed. Norah's eyes widened for a fraction, before softly patting his head with a forced smile, she hoped it looked reassuring.

This felt all too familiar.

tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

She couldn't utter any kind of assurance, so instead, she tried to be confident.

"Can you run fast?"

The boy gave her a confused look before nodding.

"We need to warn the troops. You have to run to the High-Ground and tell the leaders "They are here." Can you do that?"

Norah has never been so happy for her keen hearing, she remembered overhearing one of the captains speaking to the leaders about a code word, for if the camp were to be ambushed, and the troops were away.

The boy gave a soft nod, mumbling the message to himself a couple of times before looking at her with a determined expression.

Norah looked around for a moment, only now recognising the place they were located.

The kitchen.

There had to be something useful in here.

"Stay here for a moment."

Norah muttered, before searching through the cabinets and drawers for anything useful.

She only found five kitchen knives.

"Here, take this. You'll never know if you need this."

Norah handed the boy a knife, who took it and held it in his left hand a bit clumsily.

"As soon as the curtain's opened, you need to run as fast as you can,"

The boy looked at her with uncertainty, she grabbed his shoulders and softly squeezed reassuringly.

"Don't worry. I'll cover you..."

'For as long as I can...'

Norah yanked the fabric of the tent to the side, the boy ran not long after, Norah followed closely behind knives at ready.

The mutants saw it happening and went after them.

'Please...Please let this work...'

Norah let out a battle cry as she threw one of the four blades at the spider looking mutant.

It was as if time slowed down, watching as the dagger whizzed through the air, getting closer and closer to its target.

It felt like hours what was in reality only seconds before she could identify if she hit her target or not, she had only closed her eyes for but one second.

A muffled sound of something being buried deep inside something, a gasp and a splash of liquid hitting the floor.

Norah looked over her shoulder, feeling like she just won the jackpot.

The knife was stuck inside the chest of the spider looking monster, it fell down.

Struggling to grasp the remaining of its life, before the light in its eyes died.

Norah reached out her hand and pulled the boy to the side, the boy almost tripped, gathering his footing in the last second, Norah slashed with a yell across a mutant's face, who let out a scream and held its face in its weirdly two-fingered shaped hands.

Norah glared at it and struck one of the knives inside its head, ripping it out again and throwing it into the shoulder of a rodent-like mutant.

She didn't think, didn't hesitate. It just happened, striking down mutant after mutant with just three knives, like second nature.

She saw the boy run in the corner of her eyes, silently praying and wishing he would make it to the four leaders.

'Just got to keep them focused on me long enough...'

*(*)*(*)*

All kinds of scenarios ran through Leonardo's head, bad and worse, each had to do with death and ruin. 

His muscles screamed at him to stop, his lungs burned yet still he ran, the troops followed close behind him.

The leader in blue glanced briefly towards the boy, cradled in Donatello's arms.

The poor boy was exhausted, running such a long distance to warn them...

Leo could see Raph fuming in the corner of his eye, muttering harshly to himself. The turtle in blue could make out only a couple of words like 'Krang' and 'cowards'. He was blaming himself just as much as Leo did, maybe even more... He, after all, took great pride and responsibility to look after the order. He would never admit it, but he too knew he had a soft spot for the people he swore to protect. 

Secretly taking care of them without noticing, like a mother hen looking after someone else's chicks.

They reached the end of the camp, Leo's heart dropped to his stomach at the sight of a ruined camp; 

The ground, muddy and covered in red, the tents were in shambles, poles sticking through the cloth of the tents, the campfires had been destroyed. 

Everything was a mess.

Leo readied his katana, signalling to the others to spread out and take down the mutants.

 The three brothers followed him to the centre of the camp, where they found a display in front of them, they never thought they would see...

Norah was surrounded by mutant bodies on the ground, and she was taking on a big bear-like mutant by herself. Two flimsy knives in hands.

She was barely standing, but still, she kept going on, striking with one knife and blocking attacks from the mutant's claws with the other.

The girl before them let out a battle cry, twisting two claws downwards before plunging the other knife into the mutant's head when she pulled it in her direction.

Ending its life before anyone could even react.

Her whole body trembled as panted heavily, her chest rising and falling, with each deep, ragged breath.

Norah glanced behind her staring straight into the four leaders eyes without any emotion.

She looked...older as if any trace of the young, clumsy girl, just disappeared, vanished into thin air...

Gone was the timid child they once knew, and in their shoes stood a determined woman.

Leo took a step forward, before rushing forward in a panic as the woman before them, fell down, eyes rolled back into her head as she faded into unconsciousness...

*(*)*(*)*

Pain...everything...hurts...why...Why does everything hurt...?

Muffled voices mumbled into the void, she couldn't grasp what they were saying. Where was she anyway?

"......Sh.....eds....rest..."

A voice whispered.

....Rest...? I...I...I don't want to...

A blanket enveloped her senses, pulling her again into a calm slumber.

*(*)*(*)*

"Good morning sleepy head!"

A cheerful familiar voice echoed, stirring her softly from slumber.

A serious voice spoke up, "well, it's not actually moring, its actually noon..."

Norah slowly opened her eyes, with difficulty and stared straight into the baby blue eyes of the youngest leader, Michelangelo.

He grinned, "she's awake! At last!"

"Welcome back to the land of the living!"

Norah tried to slowly sit up to look around better.

"Was I gone then?"

She asked, looking around before she jumped when she heard a rustle in the corner.

"You almost were...But you came back to us."

The leader in blue said, a calm smile on his face as he took a seat next to her bed.

"What you did there, in the camp, was very courageous, thanks to you we could save most of our people."

Norah frowned, shaking her head. "I didn't do much...The boy warned you..."

Her eyes widened, "how is he doing!? He is fine, right?"

Raph nodded. "He's fine, don't ya worry."

She let out a relieved sigh, "that's good..."

"What's most important right now is that you get rest, you need it."

Leo stated, leaving no room for argument with the stern look he gave her.

Norah sighed, "fine...but, only if I can see the boy afterwards. I-I need to see how he's doing with my own eyes."

The four brothers looked at each other, Donatello shrugged, turning to Norah. "Deal, but first rest."

With that, the four leaders left the tent. A weight Norah didn't know she had, lifted off of her, leaving behind a feeling of content. She glanced at the roof of the tent.

'something changed, hasn't it...I hope that's it is for the better...'

[mwritesink]

A mumble mumble of thoughts about Fire Emblem Three Houses

Right. So I’ve completed all four routes of three houses and I have thoughts. 

I mean, big thought is that I love the game considering that I went right back in and started another play through of Blue Lions. and sooner or later I’ll pick back up my written let’s play but not right now because I’m over extended as it is and playing three houses has been both a solace from my own over extension and a perpetuator of it. 

Anyway

This is not meant to be a well thought out essay, it’s just my thoughts and not really going in for debate because that way only lies me being depressed. 

I like all the routes, each has their strengths and weaknesses and I find the writing overall, while not galaxy brained good, is pretty damned good, and it does an interesting turn with making sure that no route gives you the full picture of the world of Fodlan. You have to play the entire game to scratch the surface of the truth, and even then players still have to cobble together what the facts actually are. The only characters that have all the cards are Rhea and the Agarthans. Rhea keeps hers fairly close to the chest, letting out one or two if there is no other choice, but the Agarthans have more cards than Rhea and are willing to play the ones that enhance their worldview.  

yes there are flaws in the writing and it isn’t as tight as one might hope for being able to tie up it’s loose ends and keep the plot as internally consistent as it would need for having, essentially, four AUs stacked on top of each other. The weaknesses of the writing fall largely on the plot and it’s treatment of who exactly are the antagonists and the motivations therein. 

I really like Edelgard, and I really like Rhea. However, the writing does a disservice to both of them. for the first half of the game, Rhea is set up to be a smiling antagonist. You have Jeralt being openly suspicious of her, you have Seteth questioning her decisions and being summarily shot down without answers, you have a noted instance of the church executing a person for an incident unrealted to the church and without trial (yes mitigating circumstances that are only found out through supports), you have the Lonato incident where raising an army (of civilians by all implications) merits the death of both him and the civilians (yes he intended to use that army to attack the central church and yes there is definitely an argument that she only marshals the church as a reaction to a threat). Nothing in the School Phase is set up to have a player trust Rhea at first blush. But in the second half, when she’s not there, the writing does an about face to say that no, really, you should have been trusting her the whole time. Except in Crimson Flower where she becomes the spiritual/end game antagonist. 

Yes I know she has her reasons for being shady and keeping her secrets close and the truth of the world closer, but it doesn’t change the about face re: trust the game gives her. 

Now for Edelgard. Edelgard is in a tough place writing wise. One the one hand, she’s the Big Red Emperor/physical antagonist on Silver Snow and Verdant Wind, and both the spiritual and physical antagonist in Azure Moon. On the other, she’s the protagonist of her own route, the face of the game’s advertising, and the speaker of the game’s theme. I believe the writing really did her dirty. They try to pull her in too many directions at the same time, so her motivations, tactics, and ideals all get thrown into a cocktail shaker that never pours out the same drink twice. It then becomes very easy for fans to take their selected drink and run with it, while not considering the other drinks made, or what all those drinks together might make. It doesn’t help that, of the three lords, Edelgard’s development as a character, and the impacts of her rule, are most impacted by the presence and absence of other people at her side. (Ex. If Petra dies, there is no independence for Brigid. Ex. the changes rendered by Byleth being present or absent) 

(Though… does that mean if you don’t recruit Petra in non Black Eagles Runs Brigid becomes a vassal state of united Fodlan no matter what?)

 Moving on. 

There are some interesting culture clash that happens in the writing where assumptions have been made by the writers that don’t translate to non-Japanese audiences. I commented a couple times to my friends that I found it weird that the students you don’t teach call you “professor” or “teach”, and that it was probably evidence of the fact that the player might have changed Byleth’s name. This comment was generally accepted until my GF reminded me that the Japanese high schools work by having the teachers go around to all classes even if they’re also in charge of homeroom for a particular class. For all it’s western trappings and influences, the Officer’s Academy is very much a Japanese highschool, down to the differences in how the named students personalize their uniforms across gender lines. However, the game itself fails to get this across, as it only shows Byleth teaching their chosen house and interacting with students outside their house only on weekends. This then is also how Edelgard comes off as being very weirdly attached to Byelth when Byleth chooses one of the other houses. But if Byleth is teaching all classes and is just special homeroom teacher for one of them, then it makes more sense. 

In any case, cultural assumptions aside, the school phase and training options were one of the things that I went into the game with the most trepidation about, but after playing it’s one of the more fun aspects to plot and plan what classes I’m going to give people and how to get there. The New Game+ features are also turning into a boon for my idea of Bolt Axe Annette as a Gremory (just need to get her to Gremory… and get a Bolt Axe for her). I don’t think I would like the training aspect if they did it again in a future fire emblem game, but as a one off “here’s a feature specifically for Fire Emblem Three Houses” it works. 

I mentioned Byleth earlier, and I gotta say, of the character writing, which on the whole is fairly strong, their writing is one that sits the least well with me. My assumptions for this is that it had to do with the fact that Byleth is an avatar character, with a limited amount of customization, especially compared to Robin and Corrin, so they made up for it by writing as much of a blank slate character as possible so the player could superimpose a personality of their choosing.  It makes sense in game play, giving the plot mandated dye job, but it feels weird to have such a pivotal character who cannot express their own opinions in a meaningful way. I wish Byleth was a fully fleshed out character rather than a player stand in, and it would make the growth we are told they go through more impactful and meaningful. Potentially the writing wouldn’t need to change much, aside from Byleth being able to make definitive statements about anything without being interrupted, and letting Byleth fight for their point of view instead of it being dismissed out of hand by other characters. 

Also, can you imagine the hilarity of comedic straight man Dedue educating Comedic straight person Byleth on the basics of gardening, because as a mercenary Byleth would have never had the time? Can you imaging support conversations where you can really tackle what being raised a mercenary with no context of what the Church of Seiros is? 

And so I roll into my last point: Missed opportunities. 

For as much as I like large swaths of the writing, I feel like there’s been a lot of missed opportunities that could have been expanded on but weren’t, and so there’s a lot of what if’s that float about. As an example, I don’t particularly like Raphael, but that’s because I wish his supports did more than revolve around “Raphael eats and because he’s eating doesn’t hear what people are saying to him, and this results in friendship”. There is a lot that you can do with a big cheerful guy who’s in it to protect his sister and his friends that is more than a gimmick, and for Raphael in particular, I think it would do a lot for him to have more writing like how he got in his paralogue with Ignatz, where he can see an issue, knows there’s an issue, but decides to handle it in his own way, even if that way is one the player and his friends might disagree with so he can keep on being the big cheerful guy. 

There are more examples from that, and missed connections, and places where a Support that only goes up to B could have been strengthened with a potential A support. 

In the end, I love this game, I don’t mind replaying it over and over again, cause each time I’ve noticed something different and been able to try something new which alters my playstyle (trying to get Wyvern Master Dedue! Wish me luck in overcoming that red arrow next to flying). And I’ll likely go back to it for years to come.

[athyrabunlord]

LLSHP 7 - Unbreakable Vow

Arc1: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

Arc2: [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14]

Arc3: [Chapter 15 -  Under The Black Lake (TBD)]

Interlude: [Carbonado (1)] [Carbonado (2)] [Of Feathers and Wind] [Delphinus (teaser blip)]

[Brief note about School Term] [other LLSHP AU stuff] [YohaMaRuby concept arts] [ChikaYouRiko concept arts] [KanaDiaMari concept arts] [Hogwarts Staff]

[FFN link] (finished the interludes!) [Pixiv Link]

A/N: (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ That’s right, an update so early instead of bi-monthly lmao *cries* Anyway, there’s a lot of information and HP jargon in this chapter, but hopefully they’re self-explanatory enough within the scenes. Any feedback is greatly appreciated and thanks for your support! Note: I’ll be editing previous chapters and finally upload on FFN or AO3 to avoid those Keep Reading issues. For the time being, if there’s a problem loading this chapter, I’ve uploaded on pixiv [here] too :’D Words: 5,647

She jolts awake with a strangled cry.

Her eyes dart about in confusion. The sky is high above her, and what is this warm and furry thing beneath her? It seems to be moving, no, carrying her on its back? Where is she? What’s going on?

Her head throbs horribly, forcing her to curl up. This movement causes her to fall off onto the ground, though she barely feels the pain. It’s nothing compared to that agony in her chest.

She tearfully peers through her bangs, noting a massive canine is hovering above her with its jaws slightly agape. She recoils from terror and waves her arm feebly to see if the wolf would back off.

To her shock, dark and wispy tendrils of magic whirl around her arm and shot out towards the wolf, which hops away with a startled growl. She could feel herself hyperventilating now as uncontrollable magic continues to ooze from her body.

Snarling, the wolf paws at the ground and bares its fangs at the tendrils. It is then that she notices someone else behind the creature, a girl who looks vaguely familiar but her cloudy mind hurts too much for her to think properly.

The petite brunette is shouting something and would have run towards her if the wolf hasn’t blocked her way. Yoshiko, is it? Is that my name? Am I Yoshiko? The girl desperately repeats the name again and tries to move around the wolf to get to her.

“No! Don’t come near me!” The dark strands of magic lash out, but the wolf jumps in front of the brunette just as the tendrils solidify and slice into its flesh. With a pained yip, the canine morphs into an older girl with long ponytail, holding a bleeding arm.

The blood and the transformation surprise her so much that the swirling black haze around her dissipate a little.

“Petrificus totalus!”

 A spell shots through the haze and strikes her fully. Her limbs lock in place and she falls backwards rigidly. In spite of being rendered immobile, the shrouds of inky magic continue to seep out of her body. The more she panics, the wilder these sentient tendrils become.

“Yoshiko-san!” She recognizes that voice too, but her inability to place a name and face to it freaks her out more.

Just what’s going on? Why can’t she control her body?

“Yoshiko-chan, please snap out of it!”

Prone on the ground, she can only stare blankly at the sky, though her limited view is misting over with all that intangible magic shroud.

Someone… help me…

“Yoshiko-chan!”

A girl with a soft smile flashes in her mind and it matches with this voice. The brunette from earlier.

Zuramaru…?

“I am sorry, Hanamaru-san, but I need to Stun her now. Stupefy!”

There’s a streak of red light and she knows no more.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“So where are you from, Yoshiko-chan?”

“It’s Yohane!”

“Yo-ha-ne? What is that zura? Can you eat it?”

“... is that all you think about, eating?”

“Yes! I love the tea and cakes Grandma makes, and the sweet yam Grandpa likes to grill in the yard zura~ Oh, here!”

“What’s this, some sort of bread?”

“Yup! Noppo-pan! I love sharing it with you Yoshiko-chan!”

“It’s Yohane! Grrr, call me by my real name, silly mortal.” Nom nom nom. “But hnff, I’ll forgive you since this offering is yummy. Why do you want to know where I’m from?”

“You’re always here whenever Grandpa and Grandma drop me off. I live over there, in the temple zura! How about you?”

“Ku ku ku, I came from the heavens, y’know!”

“A-Are you an angel then?”

“Nope, I can’t fly anymore cuz I fell… so I’m a fallen angel!”

“Oh… so what’re you gonna do then?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I’ll return to the sky!”

She climbed onto the very top of the monkey bars and pointed upwards. The small brunette gazed at her in awe, clapping with her tiny hands and ochre eyes sparkling. However, a moment later, tears well up and trickle down her pudgy cheeks.

“W-Why are you crying?!”

“Uuuaaa! Yoshiko-chan is going to disappear! Uuuaaa!”

“What!? No I’m not! What makes you think that?” Panicking, she hopped down from the bars and scraped her knees and palms from the landing. Ignoring the pain, she hurried towards the sobbing girl and hugged her.

“Y-You said y-you’re going to -hic-  return to the -hic- sky! I-I’m not an angel, so I can’t -hic- go with you!”

“What? That’s silly. You’re silly, Zuramaru.”

“What -hic- do you mean?”

“When I return to the sky, I’ll bring you with me, duh! So stop crying already.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yes, someone was crying and there were whispered conversations around her. Silence took over and she felt like she was swimming through a murky swamp. Unfamiliar images glided past her yet instilled a sense of nostalgia as she trudged by. A distorted voice was saying something but she couldn’t make out what.

All she knew was to move towards the light. It was a mere dot in the distance, but having a destination, a goal, kept her mind focused. She doesn’t know how long she’s struggled forward, but eventually she summons enough strength to shout out.

“I’m… Yoshiko. Yoshiko Tsushima!”

The indistinct voice becomes louder. “And who is Yohane?”

“The fallen angel of course!”

“Who is the fallen angel Yohane?”

“Yohane is me!”

The voice, sinister and airy, giggles. “No, you will never ever be Yohane.”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yoshiko gasps hoarsely as her eyes snap open. She frantically sits up and looks around her, her ragged breaths the only thing she can hear in this silent room. Upon seeing the covered Mirror of Erised at the corner, she realizes that she’s in the Room of Requirement. She reaches into her pocket and freezes in fear when she couldn’t find her wand. The green scarf, charmed by Dia to stop her peculiar trances, is not around her neck.

Feeling vulnerable, she grips the cushion beneath her and surveys the room again with cautious eyes. It’s actually a lot more spacious than she thinks, for there is an open area behind her filled with rows of bookshelves, lab benches and cauldrons.

And there is someone coming towards her!

She lunges for the tea cup on the nearby table, hoping to use the broken shard as a last resort. Alas, she gets frozen in mid-motion and curses inwardly at her naivety. Of course, whoever brought her here must be a witch or wizard.

“Please calm down, Yocchan.”

“Lily-?”

Nodding, Riko gazes at her carefully and only lowers her wand after she appears certain of something. Now able to move again, Yoshiko presses her hand against her chest, which aches a little, and slumps back against the cushions with a huff.

“Does it hurt?” The Ravenclaw doesn’t wait for her response and pours a translucent liquid from a pot.

“Um, what happened and why am I-?”

“Drink this first.” Riko’s voice is flat, leaving no room for argument. Even then, Yoshiko remains skeptical and does not move to accept the steaming potion.

“N-Not until you tell me what happened, Lily,” she tries to use her commanding, husky voice, though her throat is too parched for any sort of effects.

The older girl furrows her brows. “I will, but you need to drink this first. This potion… it’ll help in calming you.”

“Calming me? I think I’m pretty calm right now-?”

“It’ll also make you feel slightly weak, since it would suppress your magical power for a period of time,” Riko raises her voice just as Yoshiko is about to protest. “As a precaution, so that you will not go out of control again.”

“Out of control? Just what do you-”

“Why don’t we talk first, Rikocchi? She can drink the potion as we go along. I’d do the same if I were in her shoes,” a silhouette seems to have appeared out of nowhere, stepping out from the shadows with light smile.

“M-Mari-san?” Yoshiko has many tutor sessions with Riko, and has talked to Mari on a few occasions, but for some reason she feels very intimidated now that she’s alone with these two Ravenclaws.

“In the flesh~ Now, I’ll need you to answer something first before we start talking. What do you remember? And please don’t lie,” there’s something predatory about the senior’s feline-like gaze. “I will know if you do, capisce?”

Yoshiko gulps, feeling even more nervous now. Perhaps drinking the potion doesn’t seem so bad? She helplessly glances at Riko, whose demeanor is unreadable as she sits on the couch opposite of her. Mari is standing behind her housemate, her arms folded and draped on the backrest.

“Well, there were a lot of images…? Memories, maybe, before I woke up but I honestly don’t remember. They’re all so vague,” Yoshiko rubs at her temple, feeling a prickle in her head as she tries to recall. “And before that, I thought I was flying - ah, You-san lent me her broom, and then I found Zuramaru by the Lake and- wait! Where’s Hanamaru? Where is she now?”

Before she could spring up from her seat, her movements are locked again by the same spell, and the more she tries to struggle, the harder the body-binding spell becomes.

“Hanamaru-san is fine, Yocchan. Please drink this potion now.” Perhaps it is the slightly panicked gleam in those amber eyes, or the fact that a faint, shadowy veil of something is seeping out of her own arm, but she obediently drinks the potion with haste.

The liquid isn’t as bitter as she imagined, and it warms her chest and makes her rather dazed in a pleasant way. When she glances down again, she is relieved to see nothing around her arm. Just for a good measure, she prods at her own limb and notices nothing out of ordinary.

“What… was that?”

Mari’s humorous tone has a frigid edge to it. “We’ll get to that in a bit. So, yes, you were talking to Hanamaru-chan, and you fainted for some reason. Kanan heard her cries for help and was carrying you two back towards the castle when you, well, for the lack of better word, went bonkers. Dia arrived in time and dispatched you. She took Hanamaru-chan and Kanan elsewhere to treat their injuries, and left you with us.”

“To treat-? T-They got hurt? Because of me-?”

Yoshiko really couldn’t remember anything, no matter how desperately she tries. Mari’s cheerful giggle has never sounded so menacing until now.

“Oh yes~ Hanamaru-chan got a few scrapes here and there but she’s mostly fine, just rather shaken up and understandably so. While Kanan… well, she’s lucky her arm stays attached to her body~”

“Mari-san. It’s not Yocchan’s fault,” Riko says severely.

The blonde stares at Yoshiko’s bewildered face and sighs after a few tense moments. “I know, I know. It’s just, I’m worried and, no, you’re right, sorry. Let me try that again. Yoshiko Tsushima, we’ve been watching you since Day1, back on Platform 9 ¾.”

“You what?”

With a Cheshire grin, Mari morphs into a familiar golden cat and paws at Riko’s scarf as if it were an ordinary pet. Yoshiko blinks once, twice and again. What the freaking hell just happened?! One moment Mari was a human, and now she was this cat? No wonder the cat’s chartreuse eyes always seem so familiar, so human! No wonder it always gives her advice and understands her words, because it’s been a human all along!

“W-What sorcery is this!? No, that’s not the point - you’ve been spying on me since the beginning? And I’ve told you so many things about me, about the orphanage-!”

Truth be told, Yoshiko feels rather betrayed.

Ears flattened, the cat leaps behind the couch and instantly changes back. “You’re understandably upset, but I promise I have never shared what you’ve told me to the others. Your secrets stay with me. That’s why I’ve revealed my secret to you just now, to make things fair - I’m an unregistered Animagus, so don’t tell anyone else, alrighty? Then again, after what happened, you’ll find out eventually now that we’re bringing you into the loop.”

“Why should I trust you?” Yoshiko glares at Mari, whose characteristic smirk is nowhere to be seen now. She averts her gaze towards Riko, who gingerly sets her wand down onto the table.

“Yocchan, we will explain what we’ve been doing and why. You can decide whether to trust us or not afterwards.”

Yoshiko winces under the older girl’s patient tone, feeling inexplicably sheepish. Even though her mind is still a mess, she understands enough that the Ravenclaws are trying to help her and seem to have the answers to her issues. And really, here alone in the Room of Requirement without her wand, she doesn’t have a choice but to at least listen to them.

“Alright. So, go on, on my first day, back at the train station-?”

Riko takes a deep breath and takes out a black feather from her pocket. “Do you know what this is?”

“Is that the one I gave you when you first became my little demon? Hey, come to think of it, I’ve been missing a lot of those since coming here to Hogwarts…”

Mari points at one of the benches at the lab area, where small orbs light up upon her gesture. There are many similar black feathers, some ruffled and some as sleek as quill, placed neatly in some sort of order on the table. Each appears to be quarantined via a silvery veil.

“Err, okay, I don’t think some of those are mine. Did you get it from a shop like I did or-?”

“No. We either got them from you, or we found them at various places. Let me ask you again, Yocchan, what are they?”

Yoshiko trembles a little from Riko’s austere voice. “They’re just accessories! Y’know, I do rituals with them but mostly just to go along with my hairdo-”

“What ritual?”

“M-Mari-san should know! I think I’ve shown her one time, when she’s in her cat form.”

It could just be pretense but Riko truly doesn’t seem to know what she’s talking about, so Mari didn’t lie about keeping her secret. “Rikocchi, those so-called rituals are just third-rate ‘black magic’ Muggles are fond of but have no special effect whatsoever.”

“Hey, don’t call it third-rate! I’ll have you know that-” Yoshiko trails off when Riko sighs wearily and covers her face with shaking hand as if to regain her bearings.

“So does this mean they’re created without her knowing or what? Just how…” The older girl mumbles to herself before leaning back against the couch and gazes solemnly into Yoshiko’s eyes. “Yocchan, these feathers are what we call ‘Horcrux’.”

“Hor-what?”

“A Horcux is a Dark object that contains a piece of the creator’s soul, for the purpose of gaining immortality. After all the tests we’ve run through, these feathers seem to have similar properties as a Horcrux would have.”

Yoshiko stares blankly at the two Ravenclaws. “... you’re saying, somehow, I’ve… split bits of my soul, into those feathers-?”

“That’s the most plausible conclusion we’ve arrived at. However, one thing disputes our theory - it is impossible for you to create a Horcrux, let alone so many.”

“D-Duh! That sounds like a really fancy spell that a First-Year like me couldn’t have possibly known,” Yoshiko says shakily, though a small voice at the back of her mind reminds her that she somehow repelled the Dementor when she was only a little girl, using an advanced spell as well.

There’s a chilling gleam in Riko’s amber eyes. “No, that’s not the main reason - in order to create a Horcrux, you must commit a murder.”

“I haven’t killed anybody!” Yoshiko blurts frantically, “No way, I-I haven’t, I couldn’t have p-possibly-”

Mari interrupts her firmly. “Don’t worry, we never said you did. That’s why Rikocchi says our theory doesn’t work because you are not evil - we all know that. We’ve been observing you since you’ve arrived at Hogwarts after all.”

“Y-Yeah, I may be the fallen angel but I would never k-kill anyone.” Yoshiko sighs in relief when both Ravenclaws nod in agreement, though Riko still looks tense.

“Regardless, these feathers are Dark objects and are similar to a Horcrux - we’ve detected spiritual presence just likes yours, Yocchan. We’ve been researching this for a long time, and to this date we still have no answer.”

“... who’s ‘we’ exactly? And why the research? Isn’t it too much even just for curiosity’s sake?” Yoshiko tries to remain calm and ignore the fact that her soul might possibly be damaged. Everything intrigues her, not in a good way, and to be honest she feels better not knowing any of this. The old saying ‘ignorance is bliss’ really applies here.

“Dia-san, Mari-san, Kanan-san and I form this research group.”

“Oh, that makes sense I guess… wait, not You-san or Chika-san?”

Pain flickers in Riko’s gaze. “They used to be, but not anymore.”

Yoshiko gulps, and Mari pats her housemate in comfort. “Before that, let me add something - we suspect that your mind blanks out randomly due to the creation of these feathers - something must be in the Forbidden Forest. So for this reason, Kanan in her wolf form would patrol the area, sometimes with Dia. I would scour through the Castle grounds in my cat form. That’s how we’ve found many other feathers.”

“I see…” She glances worriedly at Riko, who is staring at her lap and whimsically wringing her fingers. Mari squeezes the younger girl’s shoulder again in encouragement.

“Everything started a year ago. I came to a possession of a black quill that conversed with me. It taught me a lot about my family, blood purity, magical core, and many other things you can’t learn from books alone. We Sakurauchis hail from an Ancient bloodline known for the research of the Origin, so I suppose that’s where my natural inquisitiveness came from… ha ha, no, that’s no excuse for my stupidity.”

“Lily…” Yoshiko desperately wants to comfort the older girl. Riko has always been her composed, flawless tutor, but now she just looks like a lost teenager on the brink of breaking down.

“That quill called me Lily too,” Riko smiles faintly, though there is no humor in her eyes except guilt. “Overjoyed by all this knowledge, I shared this discovery with my two best friends, Chika-chan and You-chan. As per the quill’s tales, we’ve gone exploring many previously unknown places in Hogwarts, such as this Room of Requirement and more. To make our trio’s adventures more official, the quill suggested we form the Unbreakable Vow, which we stupidly did. This magical vow had us swear not to divulge this secret to anyone who is not a student and outside the group. That’s why, even to this date, I cannot reveal any of this, any of our research, to the staff, my family, or anyone else.”

She shakes her head as if to scoff at her foolishness. “Chika-chan always dreamed of having a grand adventure, and You-chan was always ready to go along with any idea she and I had. Together, the three of us, we had learned so much and had so much fun together, enjoying these secrets that only the three of us knew. But, during one of these a-adventures...”

Her voice cracks and Yoshiko is aghast to see tears welling up in her eyes.

“To m-make a long story short, we f-found ourselves surrounded by cloaked strangers who knew powerful Dark magic a-and… t-they… C-Chika-chan and Y-You-chan protected me a-and basically became guinea pigs for their spells… particularly, Curses that affect that mind. Something happened then that forced the attackers to Disapparate. I-I tried my best to help Chika-chan and You-chan but… in the end, to preserve their minds, I h-had to...”

She bites her lips and clenches her fists. “I Obliviated them. I wiped their memories of the time we spent together, everything… somehow, we’re still friends now, but it’s not the same anymore, and it never will be. I p-practically killed them, didn’t I?”

Mari moves to hug Riko then, though the latter is admirably trying to contain her emotions. Yoshiko could only stare in horror, trying to absorb what she just heard. She’s so deep in thoughts that she doesn’t notice that another person has joined them until the familiar deep voice speaks up.

“Riko-san. Do not push yourself. I will continue the story.”

Yoshiko instinctively flinches under Dia’s gaze, and grins weakly when the Head Girl nods in greeting. Good, Dia doesn’t seem angry at her or anything, and her attention is wholly focused on Riko anyway.

Mari scoots aside to give Dia room as the latter sits down beside Riko. “How’s Kanan doing?”

“You know her. Even if she is in pain, she remains stubborn, but she should be fine. Hanamaru-san is with her,” she adds when she notices Yoshiko’s unspoken question. She gently pulls Riko towards her shoulder, allowing the younger girl to rest there.

“As one of the oldest Pureblood Families, the Kurosawas have been under scrutiny by many for centuries and that includes Dark Wizards. I have had my share of assailants wanting to kidnap me or obtain samples of my blood, presumably for experiments on blood purity. Such attacks have stopped since coming to Hogwarts, until it resumed again last year. Back then, I barely knew of Riko-san’s group so I did not make the connection between her story and these attacks. But now, since we have discovered similar feathers on my attackers, they must be the same as the ones who attacked Riko-san’s group. I suspect that, as the heiress and a young adult, my magical core is at its prime while remaining malleable, thus making me the ideal target for whatever Dark experiment they have been committing.”

Dia’s voice softens then. “On the other hand, Ruby would have been a candidate as well, except her Sorting into Hufflepuff and her lack of a typical Kurosawa’s qualities must have deterred these unknown hostiles.”

“That’s why you’re always so cold to Ruby,” Yoshiko hopes her tone doesn’t sound accusing, but she’s quite upset for her dear friend’s sake. “Because you want to protect her, I get that, but do you have any idea how much she-”

“I know. But this is the only way I know how.”

Yoshiko grits her teeth, uncertain what to say. Dia truly cares about her little sister, that much is obvious now, but isn’t there something they can do about this messed up situation?

“So let me get this straight - something must have happened to me when I was younger, or even the moment I was born, that’s why memories of my childhood are so vague. This something makes me go weird, empties my mind and or attack people with that dark shroud thingy. Feathers with whatever Dark properties are created somehow, and this is related to the attackers who went after Dia-san, and Li-” Yoshiko pauses and decides it’s better not to use that nickname even though Riko consented it back then. “Riko-san’s group. You’re all in this together, to research these feathers and find out what secrets hide in the Forbidden Forest, but you’re not allowed to tell the Professors or anyone else about all this. Did I miss anything?”

“No, you have understood everything perfectly, Yoshiko-san.”

“Sounds like I’m a key player in this eh? Why didn’t you just tell me everything from the start?”

“We did not know if you’re trustworthy or not,” Mari quirks an eyebrow, “there is a necessity in keeping secrets and distance. Once we get to know you better, we do not want to endanger you either.”

“A-After what happened with Chika-chan and You-chan, I didn’t want anyone to be hurt because of me again,” Riko murmurs flatly, her fingers curled around Dia’s scarf. ��I only allowed Dia-san, Kanan-san and Mari-san to join because of their situation as well, but…”

“Well, you need more comrades, doncha?” Mari winks, her voice playful as she fondly caresses her junior’s hair. “And there’s no way Kanan and I are leaving Dia alone in this either.”

“But now you’re part of this. For that, I’m so sorry, Yocchan.”

“Why are you apologizing? I mean, yeah, it’s gonna take a while for everything to sink in but, if by the end of this, I can find out about my past and a remedy for those weird things happening to me, then I’m in!” Yoshiko gives her a small grin, and adds inwardly. Anything to make me normal. I do want to stand out, but not as a freak. No more.

“Yoshiko-san,” Dia speaks in the most stern tone she’s ever heard. “By joining our group, you are indirectly tied to Riko-san’s Unbreakable Vow. If you were to divulge our secrets to those outside of our group, your action would cause Riko-san to break her terms.”

“W-What would happen then?”

The older Slytherin’s eyes narrow and her arm tightens imperceptibly around Riko’s shoulder. “She will die.”

“I-I was just wondering that’s all!” Yoshiko squeaks. “But technically I can tell Hanamaru and Ruby right? I mean, you’ve brought me into the loop, so they could be too, without breaking the er terms.”

“Hanamaru-san has unfortunately become part of our group after what happened earlier. She has a right to know, as a witness and someone who shares your childhood no matter how brief a period. I have spoken to her already about the crucial details, and I am certain Kanan-san is filling in the details as we speak. As for Ruby, I would request that you do not involve her.”

Yoshiko frowns and swallows her protest. “...fine. So what now?”

“After what happened, we will need to monitor you, for a while at least. While you recalling your memories would help us a great deal, it would not be wise to do so forcefully. The Pensieve perhaps… no, it is best not to chance it. We will discuss this matter further at a later time. For the time being, we will train you.”

“Huh? For what?”

Dia looks exasperated by her brilliant response. “Now that you are part of our group, you will need to be able to defend yourself. Of course, we will do our best to ensure you would not fall in harm’s way, though you still need to become stronger and better.”

“That’s awesome!” To be under the tutelage of the Head Girl is a great honor. Soon, she’ll be able to kick ass just as she dreams of.

“How can you be so cheerful? Do you not understand the situation you are in?”

“Well, I was terrified and so very confused earlier… and frankly, I still am. But you know what? At the end of the day, nothing shall stop the great fallen angel Yohane-sama~” Yoshiko makes a pose and points to the three older witches. “There’s no use moping or thinking! Ya gotta take actions if ya want to get somewhere!”

Dia sighs, Mari returns her grin, and Riko gives her a tiny smile. Yoshiko relishes in this sense of purpose and is about to proclaim more goals when the door creaks open.

“Kanan!”

Mari hurries over to the tall Gryffindor, who greets her with an one-armed hug. Yoshiko feels her rush of excitement deflate at the sight of the sling and bandages on Kanan. It does look quite serious and, due to the Unbreakable Vow, she couldn’t go to the Infirmary for proper treatment. That would invite too many questions that they cannot answer.

Before Yoshiko could apologize, a small form practically bulldozes her and makes them collapse in a heap on the carpet. It takes her a few moments to realize that Hanamaru is sobbing on top of her.

“Y-You’re awake… y-you’re okay zura…”

“She’s so worried about you but I couldn’t let her come here until we make sure you’re, well, back to normal,” Kanan elaborates in a friendly voice, seemingly relaxed to be talking to the person who almost sliced off her arm, as unintentionally as it had been.

Yoshiko looks around the room, her gaze lingering on each witch before returning to the crying girl in her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“What for? It is not your fault,” Dia says kindly. “It concerns us just as much as it does you.”

“Right, but I still want to apologize.” She awkwardly sits up while cradling the brunette against her. “K-Kanan-san, I’m sorry about hurting you and thank you, for protecting Hanamaru.”

The ponytailed Gryffindor simply smiles at that, accepting her words. Only a tidbit of jealousy remains, and it’s nothing compared to the magnitude of gratitude she feels towards Kanan now.

If she had truly hurt Hanamaru, she would not know what to do with herself.

Kanan will protect Hanamaru, at least until Yoshiko becomes strong enough to do so.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“It’s hic… all my fault hic…”

“Are we still on that?”

Yoshiko stiffly walks beside the sniffling brunette, and each and every single one of her whimpers stab into her chest. She’s frustrated by her inability to comfort Hanamaru, so she simply allows the latter to grip her hand rather painfully.

She deserves this pain, and it’s nice to hold onto that petite hand in her own.

“It’s all because hic… I started talking about the Dementor hic…”

“Hey now, you wouldn’t have known I’d go crazy. I mean, I’m actually glad all this happened, otherwise I would’ve continued to be kept in the dark! I’m the one who should be sorry. I dragged you into this.”

“We’re in this together, Yoshiko-chan. I don’t want to be hic... left out. I want to help you zura.”

Yoshiko smiles. “Thanks. You’ve always stood up for me, haven’t you? My memories are blurry and in fragments, but you stayed on my side even after the other kids at the playground mocked me. Well, nothing’s changed, I’m still a freak-”

“You aren’t! You’re my heroine!” Hanamaru exclaims, startling her so much that she almost drops the former’s hand. “ I actually thought you were an angel back then, the way you protected me zura.”

“Erm…t-thanks?” Yoshiko blinks down at the shorter girl, noting how unwavering and pretty her eyes are in spite of her tears.

Also, her face is really close.

“Oh!” Hanamaru notices their closeness as well and recoils, her cheeks red. Yoshiko knows her face must match the other’s girl’s, judging by how warm it feels. At least, the somber atmosphere between them has finally lifted. They resume walking in silence, each sneaking glances when they think the other isn’t looking and blush when their eyes meet.

Just before they arrive at the entrance to the Hufflepuff Dorm, Yoshiko speaks up quietly. “So, we’re doing the right thing aren’t we?”

“Yes. We can’t keep this a secret from Ruby-chan.”

Just before they left the Room of Requirement, Yoshiko had spoken up against Dia again about Ruby. After a lot of back and forth, and some support from Mari and Kanan, she managed to convince the older Slytherin to at least allow Ruby to participate in their self-defense lessons.

To their surprise, Ruby has been waiting for them for who knows how long. “Hanamaru-chan, and Yoshiko-chan too! Where h-have you gone to? I went over to the Lake because that’s where I thought you’d be, but I-I only found your glasses and books…”

The two girls hastily move towards their friend, each placing a hand on her shoulder to calm her. “Thanks, Ruby-chan. Um, many things happened zura.”

“That’s putting it mildly, Zuramaru. We’ll update you as we go but first, we want to show you something - come with us.”

Though puzzled, the pigtailed Hufflepuff guilelessly follow their lead. Hanamaru and Yoshiko exchange a look and walk just a bit closer to their trusting friend. While they omit the majority of the truth, such as Riko’s past, they reveal that there are unknown attackers going after Dia and Yoshiko and, due to a sensitive circumstance, they cannot go to the officials or others for help.

“T-There are still people going after Onee-chan? I thought that had stopped,” Ruby peers at them anxiously. “But why Yoshiko-chan?”

“Fufu, because the great fallen angel is too amazing-”

“We don’t know why yet zura, but either way it’s good that we learn to defend ourselves.”

“R-Right. S-So where are we going?”

“The Room of Requirement.”

“You’ve found it?”

Yoshiko looks away sheepishly from Ruby’s awed expression. “Well, I had help…”

The trio come to a stop at the seventh floor, opposite of that memorable ugly tapestry. Ruby freezes at the sight of Dia standing there and subconsciously clings to her friends’ sleeves.

“Onee-chan-? But why-?”

Yoshiko and Hanamaru share another look before gently pushing her towards her sister. They stay a fair distance away to give the Kurosawas some privacy. From the corner of her eye, Yoshiko is warmed to see Ruby smiling happily at Dia, whose movements seem awkward at first but she eventually pats the smaller girl’s head.

“Things will get better now, won’t it zura?”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. There’s so much we don’t know yet, but that’s why we’re gonna train to become better, so we’ll be ready for anything.” As for the possibility of my soul being damaged... well, that’s merely another challenge for the great fallen angel, that’s all.

“Mhmm. We only have one another now, but I believe we can trust each other. This group is a nice group, isn’t it zura?”

Yoshiko finds herself grinning at the brunette’s soft smile. “You’re right. Everything will be fine now that we’re all working together. Hanamaru, I promise I’ll do everything in my power so you won’t have that kind of horrible experience again. That’s Yohane-sama’s own version of Unbreakable Vow to you.”

“Hehe, right back at you, Yoshiko-chan! That’s my version of the Vow too zura.”

And neither realize they haven’t let go of each other’s hands.

[spectrumscribe]

Things change, except they don’t.

Part of my Voltron/TMNT AU, they’ve escaped death by space lasers, but now they’re about to land on an alien planet. Karai’s family life never does get any simpler, does it?

Previous fic. First fic.

—————————————————————

There was a pause of relieved silence, when they all exited the wormhole and left the Galra ship behind. Karai breathed out a silent sigh, and let some of her instinctive panic drain away. Whatever had happened to her on that ship, it hadn’t been good, and seeing it again had caused an uncontrollable swell of fear in her.

Karai brushed her bangs out of her face, tucking the shock of white back behind her ear, and got ready to call a sound off of her brothers’ conditions. But before she could-

“I can’t believe we’re in space,” Leo said in a quiet, but definitely excited voice.

There was a beat of silence, and then everyone groaned.

“What? We are!” Leo said, gesturing at the planet their giant apparently semi-sentient lion was flying them towards. “This is incredible, we’re about to land on an alien planet. You can’t tell me none of you are excited about this.”

Karai shook her head, and reached out to muss Leo’s short hair. “I almost forgot, you’re a total space nerd.”

Donnie made a distressed sound, face palming. “We’re billions- probably trillions, if not quadrillions- of light years from earth, stuck in a giant alien robot that may or may not be leading us right to our doom, we have no way home, and oh-” He shoved his tangling, damp hair out of his face. “-I’m still wet. So no, I am not excited, Leo.”

“Well sorry,” Leo said, hunching his shoulders. “I just thought that at least one of you guys would be. We were all training to do this sort of thing.”

“I was only there because Donnie sent the most cryptic email in existence,” Raph said, and Karai could hear her brother rolling his eyes. “I would’ve been perfectly happy just staying on earth.”

“And I quit the garrison,” Mikey added with a shrug. “So I dunno about Karai, but I’m pretty sure none of us want to be here in this mess you got us into, Leo.”

And there was Leo’s responding bristle. “Excuse you, I had nothing to do with this,” Leo said snappishly, trying to turn his head away from flying them to glare at Mikey. Karai grabbed the sides of his head, and forced Leo to remain focused. “This thing has a mind of its own, and I have no control over it taking us down right now.”

“You say that like it’s supposed to be comforting,” Donnie muttered, sparking similarly muttered agreements from Raph and Mikey, and starting off Leo’s irritations again.

Karai clapped her hands together loudly, snapping her four very endearing, but very frustrating siblings’ attentions back to her. “Okay, so we’re going to fight later and land now, alright?” Karai wasn’t really asking a question. That was more so an order. “We’re about to break the stratosphere, so I’d like to think you could all get your collective shits together long enough that we don’t die on an alien planet. Can you all act like reasonable adults until then?” She gave her brothers a stern look each. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Her brothers all dropped their eyes away, mumbling yeses and okays, and Karai sighed. Nice to see that even with an enormous and unsettling amount of her memories missing, the year she’d lost hadn’t really changed her family.

Well, maybe a little. She didn’t recall Leo and Mikey fighting quite this much, or Mikey making plans to drop out of pilot training. Or Donnie having more hair than all of them combined. Or earrings.

Raph seemed to have remained the same. Gruff but concerned, as always. That was one thing that Karai could hold onto for some sense of normalcy. Now if Karai’s head would stop throbbing now and then, and she could tone down the awareness of her arm being gone and replaced by alien metal, and she could remember what the hell had happened to her all these months… she’d probably feel better about everything.

Like the fact that they were nearing the planet’s surface, and they still had no control over that. Leo could level them out, prevent their entrance from being at a tilt that made Raph look greenish, but Karai’s brother could turn them back around. Not that there was really anything to go back towards… the stars surrounding them were completely foreign to Karai, and they probably wouldn’t get lucky with a wormhole again.

And then there was the Galra warship bearing down on earth, searching for the lion robot they’d just barely escaped in…

Karai’s head gave a throb, trying to think of the Galra. She didn’t even have context for the ill feeling in her gut, but she very nearly gave a full body shudder at them. Her shoulder ached, and she was still adjusting to how her new arm felt. It was weird, and uncomfortable, but also… something that she felt like she’d had for a while, and only just noticed.

Karai took all those thoughts, and bundled them up for much later. Much, much later. Focus. She needed to focus on making sure her brothers didn’t all get their untrained selves killed. Martial artists they may be, but deep space explorers they were not.

Karai felt Mikey push his way to the front, knocking his elbow against Karai’s side and then Leo’s back of head. Donnie and Raph were pressing themselves to the windows, watching avidly- and with trepidation- as the ground got closer. The two sets of conversations brought a smile to her lips, despite their dire circumstances.

She might not have remembered the year she lost, but she could feel the length of time since she saw them. Her four very rowdy, very stupid, very lovable brothers.

They were a long ways from home, but Karai felt like she’d gotten back a piece of it anyways. Four pieces, in fact. And those four pieces were enough to give her strength to push away the fear for their missing father, and for…

Shini.

Karai repressed the swell of aching worry, and forced herself to remain present. Drifting off right now would get one or all of her brothers killed, and Karai as well. She needed to be vigilant and at the ready, especially since they tended to attract disaster when they were all together.

Karai sent up a quick prayer that today would be one of the few times they didn’t bring every conceivable disaster onto themselves. Please, for the love of god. There were already so many things going wrong, they didn’t need more.

Karai’s eyes went wide as they flew over a swell of hills, and an enormous structure came into view. The white steeples stood out against the peaceful, rather earth like landscape. Spiraling towers coming straight out of an ocean cliff side, pristine and totally… alien.

That was a pun. Dammnit. Mikey’s old tendency towards puns was still sticking to her; Karai never could fully shake it.

“Is that a castle?” Leo asked, then grumbling as Mikey, Donnie, and Raph all tried to shove their way to the front window. As the three of them did, they nearly squished Karai completely, and she took the elbows and shoulders to her bodily person with a single sigh, and a sense of tired fondness.

Ah, family. That was one thing that never did changed.

Karai repressed a smile, and started to shove her brothers away. Time to whip them into semi-functional order, and see what new problems were waiting for them on the ground.

    First thing Karai noticed as they disembarked was that they could breathe. That was a pleasant occurrence, since there were exactly zero air tanks in the giant space cat.

The next was that the winds were very strong around the seaside castle, and that Donnie clearly regretted taking his hair out of its braid earlier. His long hair got whipped up in the gusts of wind, and flew right around to smack him in the face. His exclamation of dismay and frustration was almost as funny as his flailing to remove the hair from his mouth.

“I swear to god, I’m just going to rip these stupid extensions out,” Donnie half shouted, yanking his hair out of his face. Mikey started snickering, which set off Leo, which set off Raph, and Donnie turned on all of them a ruddy cheeked glare. “Oh yeah, ha fucking ha, laugh at the idiot who put up with this for months because you’re all disconnected assholes. Brilliant plan. I’ll see that you’re plagued by spam mail for the rest of your days.”

“Oh for- Donnie, bend down,” Karai said, shoving a still snickering Mikey out of the way. Donnie turned his embarrassed glare on her, and she stood with her arms crossed. “You heard me. Bend down. We don’t have time for you to fuss with your air, and if you get distracted during a fight you’re screwed. Bend down so I can braid it again.”

Leo coughed something that suspiciously sounded like a joke about hairballs and angry cats, and Donnie shot him a furious look. “I will ruin your online life, Leo,” Donnie hissed. “Don’t tempt me. You know I could.”

Karai snapped her fingers, and resisted the urge to kick the back of Donnie’s knees so he would just bend already. “Bend, Donnie. Or better yet, just get on the ground. You’re too tall for me to do this any other way.”

Donnie grumbled, finally electing to ignore the laughter from their siblings, and knelt down so Karai could reach his hair without cramping her arms.

The black strands were tangled pretty badly, but Karai had been dealing with Shini’s hair for years. She knew how to handle wily long hair, even after exposure to zero gravity and space adventures. Karai gently tugged the hair into order, and set about braiding it into something that would hold up in a fight. If they had more time, she’d suggest cutting it off, but Karai didn’t have any tools with her to do so.

It was weird, feeling but not quite feeling with her metal arm. Only her flesh hand could feel the textures of the hair; her metal one only picked up that something was there and that she was touching it. It was… unsettling. A bit sad as well, since it wasn’t something she could change.

“Hey, Don,” Raph asked suddenly, eyeing the castle warily. “How high are our chances that this is a trap and we’re all about to die?”

“Aren’t you cheery today,” Karai said, tightening the last parts of the braid in her hands. She held out a hand to Mikey, and crooked her finger. “Elastic, please.”

“Astronomically high,” Donnie replied to Raph with a heavy sigh. “And before you ask, the chances of us getting home in one piece, or even at all, are sitting in the negatives right now. We’re hooped and all I can say is that I should have expected this sort of insane ending, dealing with you four.”

“I don’t know, maybe thing will work out,” Leo said, staring up at the lion robot. “I mean, she got us all here, and kept us safe from that battleship, so… I think we’re doing okay? No one’s dead, and no one’s come outside to shoot us or anything. Maybe our luck will hold.”

Raph reached out and smacked Leo’s shoulder. “Well now it won’t, since you went and jinxed us.”

Mikey scoffed at both of them, and produced an elastic from his pockets. Karai knew her brother always had one on him; something to play with in his hands when he got twitchy. “If we all die, it’s on Leo,” Mikey said offhandedly, handing Karai the elastic. “Not me.”

“No one is dying,” Karai said in her most big sisterly voice, the one she always needed to use on her brothers when they were looking to start trouble. She tied off Donnie’s long braid, and patted his head. “There you go, Donnie. All done. And now we go inside and not die, and see what all…” She gestured at the castle. “This is about.”

Donnie stood up, running a hand down the braid now holding his hair back. He gave Karai a small smile, looking down at her with a grateful expression. “Thanks,” Donnie said, dropping the braid and pushing his glasses back up his nose. “It was really starting to annoy me. I don’t know how Shini does it.”

Karai thought about her missing friend, and shook her head at the twinge of pain. “Honestly, I have no idea either. It’s short hair or no hair for me.”

“You’d look pretty badass with a buzz cut,” Mikey commented thoughtfully. “Channel some Furiosa or somethin’.”

Karai scoffed. “I’ll do it when you do it, Mike. See how you look without those curls of yours.”

“I think I’d look damn good,” Mikey replied, tossing his hair dramatically. “Better than you or Leo do, at least.”

“Wow, rude,” Leo said, raising an eyebrow. “At least our hair is military approved; you got three demerits one time just because you couldn’t get your helmet on within a reasonable amount of time.”

Mikey turned on Leo, and looked ready to start yet another catfight between them both, but Raph’s interjection stopped the fight before it could begin. “Can we focus on the alien castle matter?” Raph said, pointing at the imposing structure. “Because that’s still a thing, and just because no one’s shooting us yet doesn’t mean they won’t.”

Right. Castle, aliens, mystery to solve. Fun times.

Karai squared her shoulders, and stood up straight. No more time for sibling banter; they had important things to attend to. “Alright you four, fall in and don’t get lost. The first thing we need to do is find a way in, maybe a side door or-”

The ground rumbled suddenly, and the wide front doors to the castle began to open. The huge hallway revealed inside slowly lit up with torches, coming up as the light of day spilled into the corridor.

“Ooooor we could go through the front door,” Karai said, pursing her lips. She did not like where this was heading.

“We’re all going to die,” Donnie muttered belligerently as they started towards the doorway. “And I have to do while wearing extensions.”

“Cheer up, Donnie,” Karai said, patting her brother’s shoulder. “You look alright now that it’s out of your face.”

Donnie’s responding groan brought an indulgent smile to Karai’s lips once more, and she gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. He’d put up with a lot the last while, all for her and their family. The steadfast loyalty and care Donnie gave their family never seemed to falter, even with the fights he and their siblings had on and off over the years. The months using his old pronouns must have been rough, and Karai sympathized with her brother’s troubles.

She’d sit down and spend some time with him later, maybe help get those extensions out. For now though…

Karai steadied herself and her nerves, and led her brothers into the cavernous hallway of the castle. Unsure of who, or what, they’d find there.

Next fic. (pending.)

[scribomaniac]

Weathering the Storm (Silverflint)

(Gods AU)

Flint sighed as he woke up from his slumber, turning over to his side on the bed he and his lover slept on.  Keeping his eyes closed against the sun’s rays, he took in a deep breath, breathing in the salty, beachy scent that clung to his bed mate.  Humming, Flint reach out an arm to pull his lover closer and frowned when his arm met only cold sheets. Sitting up with a groan, the god of justice and righteous fury glared around his bedroom until he found the person he was looking for.  

Silver, god of mischief and transitions, sat at the foot of the bed with his back to Flint.  His long, curly hair was loose and hanging down his back in waves and just begging Flint to reach forward and run his fingers through it.  He would have, too, if he hadn’t noticed what Silver was so focused on. The dark haired god stared down at his left leg--or what was left of it, anyway--and was replacing it with one illusion after another. One second his leg was whole, his calf and foot back where it used to be before the accident, then it was a flurry of feathered wings, then a ship’s oar, and so on and so on before finally James reached out and touched his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly, trying not to startle Silver.  Although the god of mischief didn’t jump, Flint could feel the muscles in his shoulder tense and the parade of mirages immediately stopped, leaving only the truth that was Silver’s stump. “Silver?”  He whispered, leaning forward on his knees so he could kiss the space between Silver’s shoulder blades. 

The two of them hadn’t been together for very long, barely three decades, but--being immortal deities and all--they’d known each other for millennia.  Usually the god of mischief was upbeat and lively, never sitting or standing in one place for long and always trying to get a laugh out of someone--usually at the expense of someone else.  Silver still did that, of course, still caused mischief and trickery wherever and whenever he could, but he was more reserved now.  Sometimes Flint thought he saw something flash behind his lover’s eyes, or thought that his smile wasn’t quite so carefree, but whatever it was always disappeared as fast as it came.  

Straightening his back, Silver shook his head twice before turning around to kiss Flint fully on the mouth.  He pulled away, showing Flint the Cheshire grin on his face.  “Morning,” he leaned in for another kiss, but Flint leaned back just out of reach.

“What were you doing with your leg?”  Flint couldn’t help but ask, his brows furrowing with worry.  

“Nothing,” Silver said roughly, bringing Flint’s attention back to the present.  Flint’s green eyes met Silver’s blue, “I was just playing with some illusions--thought I might try them out on some mortals later today.”

Flint hummed, not quite believing him.  Sure, he believed Silver would freak out some unsuspecting mortals with illusions today, but Silver hated rising with the sun.  He always insisted that the morning was best spent in one of three ways: sleeping, lounging, or fucking.  The fact that he rose before Flint at all was sending off warning bells in the red haired god’s mind.  

Glancing down at Silver’s missing leg, Flint murmured, “You never did tell me how you lost it.”  It felt like barely yesterday that Silver was strutting about on both legs.  Then, barely a fortnight ago, during a prank gone wrong, Silver had returned home with just one.  He’d barely been able to tell Howell, the god of medicine and bitterness, that it’d been a Hydra that attacked him.  Beyond that, though, Silver never spoke of it.  He didn’t even try to spin one of the many lies that naturally flowed out of his mouth.  “Who were you trying to play a trick on?”

Flint knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say as Silver’s eyes darkened--again, only for a moment--before turned away from Flint and stood up from the bed.  Grabbing his silver crutch--a gift from the god of the forge, Joji--Silver quickly dressed.  “Where are you going?”  Flint asked, deciding to stand up as well.  Instead of moving for his clothing, he walked up to Silver and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist.  Placing a trail of open mouth kisses along the curve of his neck.  “Come back to bed with me,” he pleaded hoarsely into Silver’s ear before taking the lobe into his mouth to tease with his teeth.

Pulling out of Flint’s arms, Silver pushed his hair out of his face, "I forgot, I promised Max I’d help her with some mortals today.  Apparently some of them have been evading her lately,” he shrugged, the stopped what he was doing to rack his eyes up and down Flint’s naked form. Smirking, he stepped closer and took Flint’s face in his hands.  “I’ll be back by nightfall,” he said softly, leaning in to brush his nose against Flint’s with such tenderness it almost made the red haired god whimper.  “Patience, Flint,” he whispered so softly against the other god’s lips, the sensitive skin barely touching.  His breath was arm and comforting against Flint’s face and he felt his eyes fluttering closed in anticipation of a kiss.  “Tonight--when I take you back into that bed, I’ll--”

“You talk too much,” Flint growled before leaning forward and taking Silver’s lips with his own.  The kiss was all tongue and teeth before teasing the skin underneath Flint’s jaw with his teeth.  The god of justice moaned and lowered his hands to Silver’s ass before giving the firm cheeks a strong squeeze, making sure to dig his fingers into the cloth covered flesh.  

“Oh,” Silver bucked against Flint.  Flint was sure Silver would forget about his meeting with Max and drag him back to the bed, which he would have done in the past, but instead Flint found himself being left high and dry as Silver pulled away.  “Later,” he promised, before disappearing in a haze of mist.  

Groaning, Flint walked back to his bed.  The god of justice and righteous fury had some unfinished business he had to take care of before starting on his work in the mortal realm.  

Winter was the busiest season for Flint.  Mortals would become desperate during the colder months and resort to thieving and killing, causing outrage and a need for his righteous fury to come down and warm them while delivering his swift justice to the perpetrators.  Flint loved the season.  He was always needed, always busy, always with purpose.  If he had the power, he’d keep the mortals in a perpetual state of winter.  Unfortunately for the god of justice, as the summer sun warmed Flint’s back as he watched the mortals from atop a cloud, he did not.  He stared down at the mortals with disinterest.  The sun had passed it’s peak, and the chances of anyone calling for his aid were quickly plummeting.  All mortals followed the same pattern, no matter how different each one was.  They all liked to get things over and done with early in the day, leaving their evenings for fun and rest, which meant if anyone had any grievances, they’d pray to him before noon.  It made sense, Flint mused as his eyes drifting over to some small children playing make believe, since they were all cut from the same cloth eons ago.

Flint thought he’d be bored, watching the children, but he found his curiosity peaked instead.  He was too far away to hear them, but he could see well enough that one of them was hobbling around on one leg while keeping his other leg slightly off the ground.  At first, the red haired god thought it was a balancing game, but the young mortal boy had a wooden sword in hand, too, and was waving it about madly, as if he was fighting something.  The other children’s eyes were large and alight with joy, enjoying the hobbling child’s ministrations.  Making a split second decision, Flint leapt off his cloud and plummeted down to the Earth.  He landed silently, thanks to his immortal grace, behind a house and transformed his godly form into a dull, mortal one.  He wanted to know what the children were doing, and he couldn’t do that if they were slack jawed and bowing down to him.

The children were alternating between giggling loudly and shrieking playfully.  One of the other children stood across from the hobbling boy and raised his hands above his head, roaring as loudly as he could. Scraping his foot against the ground, he huffed out his nose like a bull about to charge.  “Be gone!”  The hobbling boy yelled, a wide grin on his face as he flourished his sword at the pretend monster.  “Be gone!  ‘Tis I, the god Silver!  You cannot defeat me, beast, and you will not hurt these poor mortals!” He gestured to the other children watching on the sidelines.  They cheered and hollered for their champion. 

Flint’s brows furrowed and his lungs tightened.  He was used to reenacting the feats of the gods, but usually the stories involving Silver were more humorous and less heroic than the one he was watching.  He wracked his brain for a story involving Silver fighting a beast, but nothing came to him.  Silver wasn’t the type of god to help mortals, either.  Most didn’t even pray to him, or if they did it was in the hopes that’d he’d leave them be.  He wasn’t a helpful deity like Eleanor, goddess of fortune and resourcefulness.  He didn’t instill fear like Vane, the god of plague and destruction.  Nor was he very useful, like Anne, the goddess of protection and family.  No, Silver wasn’t like the other gods.  The mortals didn’t revere him, or fear him.  They loved him.  He brought them joy and laughter--good humored fun.  Well, usually good humored.  

There was something missing, some key piece of information Flint didn’t have.  He continued to watch the children, hoping to learn what that missing piece was.  The beast charged the hobbling child, playfully veering left at the last second before coming back around and slapping the Silver-impersonator on the left leg.  “Ahh!”  The child fell onto his back dramatically, dropping his fake sword.  “Damn you, Hydra!”  Flint stopped breathing.  If he were mortal, he would have died from suffocation.  His eyes dried up, but he wouldn’t blink.  He wouldn’t take his gaze off the little play for anything in the world.  Not even the return of the Titans.  

Everything blurred and Flint could suddenly see perfectly.  He saw the rocky cave where the Hydra lived.  Saw the cowering mortals backed into a corner, grasping at one another with white knuckles, and Silver--Silver bruised, bloody, maimed, on the ground before the ferocious beast with no weapon to save him.  The Hydra reared back, its heads letting out an ear piercing wail, and charged at Silver who was just barely able to sit up, his attention wrapped up in the pain of his newly missing leg.  The Hydra approached, and right before the it could strike it’s final blow, Silver pulled out his sword from no where--an illusion having kept it invisible to the beast, and stabbing the beast in the chest.

Finally Flint had to blink, and the scene disappeared, leaving only reality before him.  There was no Silver, just a little boy with a champion’s smile.  There was no Hydra, just another boy with a wooden sword stuck in between his arm and chest, lying on the ground.  The god of justice tried to swallow, but found his mouth too dry to do such a task.  Mortals weren’t this creative, he thought, they couldn’t have come up with this story on their own.  “You are safe now!”  The boy-Silver proclaimed, puffing out his chest with pride and once again balancing himself on one leg.  “Be gone, now,” he waved his hand at them carelessly.  “Before the Hydra awakens, and never return!”

Laughing, one of the small girls stepped forward and asked, “But what about your leg, lord Silver?”

Looking down at his fake stump, the young boy smirked and said, “Oh this?  ‘Tis but a scratch!” He threw his head back and laughed, then, as the rest of the audience bowed and said their thank yous almost as sincere and profusely as if they’d truly been saved from a Hydra.  

Flint watched in awed silence as the child playing the Hydra stood up and quickly began to jump up and down, “I call Silver next!”  Not able to watch any more of it, Flint disappeared in a flurry of wind, and rode the gust to find Silver.  Something was still missing.  Flint didn’t understand.  Silver had told him he’d lost his leg in a prank gone wrong.  He never mentioned any mortals, or trying to save them.  It didn’t add up--Silver loved telling stories, especially about himself.  Why wouldn’t he take this opportunity to brag?  To show off?  It didn’t make sense. 

Barging into Max’s palace, he found its mistress resting in bed with Anne.  They were both naked, though thankfully not in the throes of, with Anne resting her face in the crook of Max’s neck as she gently caressed the goddess of protection’s red hair.  Normally Flint would blush, apologies profusely, and turn around to give the goddesses time to either cover up or give him permission to look, but not today.  “Where’s Silver?”  He growled.

“The fuck?”  Anne asked, lifting her head to glare at him.  “He ain’t here.”

Not missing a beat, he asked, “When did he leave?”

“He ain’t been here all day,” Anne’s upper lip pulled back in a grimace and she rose fully now to kneel protectively in front of Max.  “Now get the fuck out.”

Not looking at the red haired goddess--which probably wasn’t the smartest ideas considering she looked ready to flay him, and wouldn’t hesitate to do it--Flint kept his eyes on Max and said, “He said he was coming here today.  helping you with some mortals who were avoiding your power.”

Max must’ve seen something in Flint’s eyes, something desperate, because she lightly placed a hand on Anne’s bony shoulder, easing the goddess’s aggression, and sat up.  Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “Does it look like I need help seducing mortals?”  When Flint didn’t answer, she sighed, “I haven’t seen him today, Flint, and did not ask him to stop by.  I am sorry, but I do not know where he is.”

Needing nothing more from the two goddesses, Flint turned heel and left the palace.  Something was wrong.  Something was terribly wrong.  Flint couldn’t get a handle on his thoughts.  Why would Silver lie to him about helping Max?  Where was he now?  Why didn’t he tell him the real story behind his leg?  Flint flew on a gust of wind to Silver’s home by the sea.  His heart was hammering in his chest by the time he arrived.  Unlike Max’s palace, Silver’s home was inside a quaint little cove that over looked the sea.  It was simple, really only a place for Silver to rest and be alone when he felt the need.  Usually the two spent their nights in Flint’s cottage on a small island off the main land.  Flint knew he wasn’t there, so he could only hope to find his lover in the cove.  If Silver wasn’t there, he wasn’t sure where else to look.  Silver never took to one particular place.  He was always much more attached to people.

Thankfully, Flint wouldn’t have to look elsewhere after all, and found the god of mischief and transitions curled up on his bed, staring blankly at the cave wall in front of him.  From his perspective, Flint could easily see the redness around Silver’s eyes, the way his back trembled with after shocks of tears, and hear the uneven breaths puffing their way out of his mouth.  “Silver?” Flint whispered, just as he had that morning.  And just like that morning, Silver’s back tensed up.  

Silver turned his face away for a moment, and then turned over and sat up to look at Flint.  Everything Flint had just witnessed--the red, puffy skin, the bank look in his lover’s eyes, the trembling body--had disappeared.  Silver looked at him, a small smile on his face, and a sparkle in his eyes.  “Hello, lover,” Silver greeted.

Flint wouldn’t be fooled this time.  His frown deepened at the sight in front of him, finding it much more worrying than the one he initially walked in on.  “Enough of the bull shit, Silver.  Take off the mask.”

Tilting his head to the side, Silver’s brows furrowed and he pouted.  He looked like the definition of confused.  “Beg pardon?  What specific bull shit are you referring to?”  He lips twitched, reminding Flint of his old trickster self.  He knew better though.  

“The illusion.  The one over your face.  how long have you been wearing one in front of us, hmm?  in front of me?”

“I’m not sure I--”

“Enough of the bull shit,” Flint hissed.  Then, letting out a burst of hot air through his nostrils, he ran a hand over his shaved head and said, in a much calmer tone.  “I know what happened.  With the Hydra.” 

Silver’s face froze, and for a moment Flint thought he was going to keep on playing his game of ignorance.  But then he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, and his lower lip trembled ever so slightly.  After another second the illusion over his face crumbled and Flint was shown the truth.  Silver’s eyes were wet with unshed tears, and there was an endless darkness within them that made Flint’s heart falter.  His face was swollen and blotchy, obvious signs that he’d been crying before now, and for a long time, too.  His lips were chapped and bloody.  He was falling apart.

Rushing over onto the bed, Flint gathered his lover’s broke form into his arms and began making hushed noises into his ears.  Silver’s form curled in on itself and tremors rolled down his body as he tried to suppress his grief.  “Shh, shh,” flint kissed the top of Silver’s head, breathing in deeply before pressing another kiss to the dark curls.  “It’s all right, Silver.”

“No, it’s not,” Silver moaned, his voice hoarse and weak..  He needed water, but Silver was clutching onto Flint now, and there was no one else around to get him some. “I’m broken.”

“Silver, you saved those mortals.  You’re not broken--you’re a hero.”  Silver shook his head and whimpered at the word.  “You are,” he insisted.  “Why did you tell me,” he stopped, then tried to tamp down on some of his anger.  He was the god of righteous fury, after all, sometimes it got the better of him.  he couldn’t let it, though, not now.  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”  Silver froze in his arms.  He didn’t even seem to be breathing.  “Why did you tell me you lost your leg due to a prank?”

“I didn’t,” he whimpered, his body still unmoving.  

Flint frowned, turning his head slightly in an attempt to look into Silver’s blue eyes.  He couldn’t.  Not in their current positions.  He thought about what Silver had just said, and all at once it hit him.  he felt like Vane had sucker punched him in the stomach.  “You didn’t,” he agreed softly.  “We assumed--I assumed that you were playing a prank.”  Guilt flooded him in waves.  He’d asked, sure, but Silver had never told him how he lost the leg.  Everyone just assumed he’d lost it by causing mischief.  No one for one second would have thought he’d lost it doing something heroic.  No one except those mortals down below, it would seem.

“I’m not a hero,” Silver whispered, finally releasing some of the tension in his body and slumping further into Flint’s embrace. “I’ve never tried to be one.  So why the fuck did I think I could play the part against a fucking Hydra and succeed.”  

“You did succeed,” Flint told him, his brows furrowing again.  This time he pulled away so he could cup the other god’s face in his hands.  “You saved those mortals, Silver.  You are a hero.”

Silver scoffed and wrenched his face out of Flint’s hold.  “Look at me,” he sneered down at his missing leg.  “I’m no hero--just a cripple.”  The amount of self loathing in his tone shocked Flint.  He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, trying to find the right words that would soothe his lover from his torment.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”  He asked, tentatively reaching out to touch his face again.  Silver let him, which he took as a good sign.  Running his thumb over Silver’s cheekbone soothingly, his chest eased some when Silver’s eyes closed in pleasure and he hummed.  “You didn’t have to hide all this pain, Silver.”

The dark haired god sighed dejectedly, “Yes, I did.  Look at me, Flint.  Do I look mischievous to you?  Do I look carefree?  No,” he laughed.  It was short and desolate and made Flint want to cry.  “I look broken--bitter.  No one wants a bitter trickster god.  The other gods don’t, and the mortals don’t either.  I have to give them what they want.  What they expect from a trickster.”

“Not with me,” Flint said hoarsely, but with vigor.  Cupping Silver’s face again, Flint pulled them closer until their brows were touching and could feel their breaths mingling.  “You don’t have to wear a mask with me.  Never with me.”  He leaned up and kissed Silver’s forehead, then his right cheek, then his left, and finally placed a hard, brutal kiss on his mouth.  “Do you understand me?”  He used one of his hands to weave into the locks at the base of Silver’s head and gave a firm yank, making the other god gasp and his eyes glimmer with focus and life.

Silver’s face crumpled with relief and love and a million other emotions.  His eyes teared up again, but he didn’t stop them from falling this time.  Nodding his head furiously, he swallowed several times, trying to say something.  Unable to form any words, though, Silver just kept nodding.  Any other time Flint would have basked in the phenomenon that was a Silver lost for words, but not this time.  Now he used the hand that was still in the other god’s hair to guide his head to rest in the crook of his neck and lay them down on Silver’s bed.  They were in for a bad storm, Flint knew that--knew this was only the first step of Silver’s recovery--but he also knew, without a doubt in his mind, that they’d weather it.