#at one point she enters the land of the dead

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |2|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Murder and Killing

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2

Sam had her head thrown back, trying to calm her nerves as she and Tara waited for Detective Bailey to arrive. When Quinn called her father, he had said he wanted to speak with Sam. He wouldn’t confirm or deny whether the killings on the news were the work of Ghostface, but he wanted her to come down to the station. Tara had refused to let her go alone and Bailey even agreed that he’d like to see Tara as well. They arrived at the police station first thing in the morning and were immediately escorted to an interrogation room, without anyone telling them anything.

Sam finally looked up when she heard the door open, seeing Bailey enter. “Sorry about the wait,” Bailey said, giving them an awkward chuckle.

“What’s this about?” Tara asked, tapping her fingers on the table.

“The killings,” Sam cut in. “Was it Ghostface?”

“We found this,” Bailey said, tossing an evidence bag containing a bloody card onto the table, ignoring both the girls’ questions. “At the crime scene,” Bailey sat in the chair opposite of them. “In which two of your,” he pointed at Tara. “Classmates were murdered. Care to explain?” he shrugged.

Tara leaned forward, her eyes widening at what was in the baggy before she looked back at Sam. Sam furrowed her brow as she took a look as well, her face instantly going white at seeing her ID, covered in blood, and in the evidence bag. “I lost my ID months ago,” Sam mumbled, shaking her head. “I had to get a new one.”

“Why didn’t you report your ID as stolen?”

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” Sam glared at Bailey.

Sam didn’t know detective Bailey too well. She knew he was a homicide detective and when Quinn decided to go to college at Blackmore, he transferred to New York so he could keep an eye on her. Quinn complained about him occasionally, usually saying how overprotective he was, though he did allow Quinn to live on her own with Sam and Tara, even though it would be much cheaper for her to live with him. Bailey always seemed like the typical dad, but Sam wasn’t sure, she saw danger around every corner but the majority of the time it was just her being paranoid.

“Where were you last night?” Bailey asked, getting back to his questioning.

“You can’t seriously think she’s a suspect,” Tara said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” Bailey held his hands up in defense. “Do you have an alibi?” He looked at Sam.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I was at work,” Sam answered. “Then when I came home Chad and I went to the gym, then back to the apartment.”

“And someone can verify this?”

“Lots of people probably,” Sam shrugged. “Your daughter being one of them, she was at the apartment last night.”

“It’s true,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “We were all with someone the entire day. Anything else?”

“Your classmates,” Bailey said, pointing at Tara. “Had a Ghostface shrine, it seems they killed their professor a Ms. Crane.” Tara sucked in a breath, Sam didn’t know her personally, but she had heard Tara and Mindy mention her a few times. “Earlier this evening. Know anything about that?”

“Why would we? I barely talked to them.”

“Are you familiar with a,” Bailey flipped open a file, squinting his eyes at something in the file, “Richie Kirsch?”

Sam couldn’t help the way she shifted in her seat, trying not to react. “He’s my ex,” she answered with a tight-lipped smile. “And he’s dead.”

“Yeah, he and my best friend tried to kill us last year,” Tara snapped. “What’s this got to do with anything?”

“Well, it seems these boys,” Bailey said, tapping his fingers on the photos of the two guys killed. “Intended to finish his movie.” Sam and Tara’s faces both fell at those words. “It seems they were working on a plan to kill you two.”

“We don’t know anything about that,” Sam said.

“Right, right,” Bailey mumbled to himself. “So, it’s just a coincidence these two boys end up dead?”

“There are no coincidences when Ghostface is involved.”

“Look,” Tara cut in, seeming frustrated and tired. “Are we under arrest or can we go?”

Bailey looked between the two sisters then down at the photos and evidence bag. Sam held her breath as she waited for his response. She wasn’t sure what was going through his mind, he still never confirmed if Ghostface was back, and she didn’t know if Bailey suspected her or thought she and Tara were in danger.

“You’re free to go,” Bailey said. “Just don’t leave town,” he gave Sam a look, like he knew she wanted to run.

Tara didn’t hesitate to get up, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. Sam gave Bailey one last glance before following after Tara. They flagged down a cab and Tara gave the guy directions to Blackmore. When Sam furrowed her brow Tara showed her Mindy’s text saying to meet at the school so they could go over suspects before class.

Before she knew it Sam had her head thrown back again, this time as she sat on a bench outside Blackmore College. Everyone was already there when Sam and Tara arrived and since then Mindy had been standing in front of everyone pacing back and forth. Sam just wanted her to get to the point already, she wanted to try and get some sleep before she had to go to work. She knew she wouldn’t get any sleep though; she wasn’t able to sleep last night and there was no way she’d be able to before her shift, not with Ghostface out there.

“Suspects!” Mindy said, finally seeming to get to the point. “With Ghostface, most likely, back we should go over potential people who might want to kill us! Because Bailey clearly won’t be of any help.”

Sam couldn’t help but glance at Quinn. The girl frowned at Mindy’s words but didn’t move to argue with her. Mindy also didn’t bother sparing Quinn a glance, let alone an apology. Sam couldn’t help but frown at Quinn’s reaction, or her lack of reaction. Detective Bailey was Quinn’s father, and she wasn’t saying anything to stick up for him or defend him. Sam wasn’t sure if that alone was suspicious or if Quinn just knew by now there was no point in arguing with Mindy.

“First!” Mindy continued, holding up a finger. “Ethan! The shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s just so shy and dorky.”

“I’m a suspect because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?” Ethan questioned, gesturing at Chad awkwardly.

“Roommate lotteries can be fixed,” Mindy rolled her eyes as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. “And second, Quinn!” Mindy turned, smiling at Quinn. “Tara and Sam’s slutty roommate, a horror movie classic.”

“Sex positive,” Quinn corrected. Though she didn’t seem offended by Mindy’s accusation like Ethan had.

“How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?”

“I answered their ad online.”

“No need to say more, you’ve implicated yourself enough!”

“It was an anonymous ad,” Tara said. “And we vetted her.” Sam nodded, she had done incredibly thorough questioning to both Quinn and Bailey when they were interviewing potential roommates. “Plus, her dads a cop.”

“And that makes it more likely!” Mindy gestured wildly. “Cop dad is a great cover! Besides, what are the odds, your dad, would get this case?” Mindy crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Quinn.

“How the hell would I know?” Quinn crossed her arms, finally seeming to get annoyed by Mindy.

“And lastly, Anika,” she smiled at her girlfriend. “You aren’t clear either.”

Anika’s face fell. “Are you kidding me?” she asked.

“Sorry babe,” Mindy shrugged. Anika just scoffed, crossing her arms and turning her head away as she refused to look at Mindy.

“I think that’s all the suspects,” Mindy said, giving herself a little nod of approval.

“And Y/N,” Sam added. Everyone turned to her with raised eyebrows. “What?” Sam shoved her hands in her pockets. “I just think they should be on the list.”

“I thought you said you haven’t ever spoken to them?” Mindy narrowed her eyes.

“I haven’t.”

“Then why would they be a suspect?” Tara questioned, crossing her arms.

“Because we have the same schedule!” Sam tried to reason. “No matter when I go, no matter what day, or what time, they’re there.”

“Suspicious,” Mindy admitted. “Anything else?”

“They have fighting experience. Not sure how much but I’ve seen them train, they definitely know what they’re doing.”

Sam continued to ramble on about you. She told them once again about how similar your schedules seemed, even when it was well after midnight and there was no one else there you’d show up. She talked all about the kind of people you did talk to and how you were otherwise reserved. Then she got into your workout and mentioned how much you lift and how much you focus on either sparring with someone or hitting the punching bag. When Sam was finished revealing all her observations about you, she looked around at the others. Everyone was looking back at her with raised eyebrows, she was going to assume they were just shocked by her keen observation skills.

“They are pretty badass,” Chad added, holding a finger up. “I hate to admit it because they seem so cool,” he let out a little chuckle. “But the way they fought that dude in the ring,” he let out an impressed whistle. “I’d hate to see what they’d do to an enemy.”

Everyone’s face slowly morphed into one of worry. Ethan and Quinn gave each other a look of concern and Tara looked at Sam as if Sam would have a solution to their problem. Sam could only offer her sister a comforting smile, she didn’t know who this new Ghostface was, but she wouldn’t let him hurt Tara.

“Okay, we’ll add them to the list,” Mindy agreed.

Sam nodded. A part of her felt a little guilty for suspecting you of such heinous things when you’ve only ever been nice, but she couldn’t take the risk. She dated Richie for months and he betrayed and used her, she hadn’t even spoken a single word to you. Sam didn’t have a real reason to suspect you, besides the fact that you went to the same gym, which a lot of people went to, but none of them had even close to the same random schedule she did, and she had never seen any of them fight like you could. She hoped you were just the cute stranger from her gym though, and not some psychopath. But she knew her life, there was no way her first crush since Richie was just a normal person that went to her gym, and all the other stuff, the stuff that drew her to you, was just coincidence, she wasn’t that lucky.

After being satisfied with their suspect list everyone went their separate ways with most of them going to class, while Sam went to work. Sam managed to get home and change but didn’t have time for a nap before having to head to her job. She managed to make it to the diner she worked at, just before she had to clock in.

Sam tried to focus on work and not let her mind wander to Ghostface and what was happening. She ignored the way people kept glancing at her, she ignored the articles she saw on their phones when she came to fill their coffee cups, she ignored the way customers bumped into her, spilling their milkshakes, ketchup, and syrup all over her. She ignored it all, she put on her fake smile and apologized to the next person who bumped into her.

Sam glanced at her phone every time she had a spare moment, when she knew, she wouldn’t get caught by her boss. She ordered everyone to text her throughout the day, so she’d know they were okay. She ordered her sister though to text her every fifteen minutes, Tara had rolled her eyes, but she had been doing it, if Sam didn’t hear from Tara within the time frame she would try calling first and then head off to wherever Tara was supposed to be.

When Sam’s shift finally finished, she rushed home, ignoring the way everyone was lounging in the living room once again as she ran to her bedroom. She didn’t have long before she needed to be at her therapy appointment, and she needed to shower and change first. She moved as quick as she could, showering long enough to get rid of the diner smell but not long enough to actually enjoy having the water rain down on her.

“I have therapy tonight,” Sam said as she rushed around the living room, ignoring her still damp hair. “I’ll be back later.” Tara nodded. “Be careful, stay inside, and don’t unlock the door for anyone.” Sam gave all of them a pointed look.

“We know,” Tara sighed. “You be careful too,” she whispered.

Sam smiled at her sister, giving everyone a quick wave goodbye before making her way out the door. She made sure to lock all the locks and double check herself before walking down the stairs. Her neighbor Danny offered her a kind smile, holding the door open for her as he was coming, and she was going. Sam did a quick check of her surroundings before shoving her hands in her pocket and began making her way to her therapy appointment.

Before Sam knew it, she was sitting in her therapist’s office, pulling at her sweater as she refused to look her therapist in the eye. She hadn’t been seeing the woman very long, she was seeing a guy for a while but when he learned her dad was Billy Loomis, he basically stopped being helpful. When Sam found Doctor Williams, Sam had started the first session by telling her all about her father, if this therapist wasn’t going to be helpful either Sam figured she might as well figure it out right away instead of wasting all her time and money.

“We’ve been sitting in silence for twenty minutes,” Doctor Williams said, not looking up from her notepad as she continued to write something down. Sam wasn’t sure what the doctor could be writing considering she had yet to speak. “Your session is only an hour long, if you want to talk,” she glanced at her watch. “You might want to think about starting soon.”

Sam frowned and flicked a glare at Williams. “I met someone,” Sam said, breaking the ice.

“That’s good,” Williams smiled, setting down her notepad and pen. “How has that been?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly talked to them yet.”

“How-How does that work?” Williams furrowed her brow.

“We go to the same gym,” Sam nodded along with her words. She was sure this was probably making her sound even crazier than she already seemed. “We’ve shared looks and a few nods,” Sam smiled to herself

She didn’t miss the small smile still on Williams’s face. “And what’s stopping you from talking to them?”

Sam’s eyes drifted down to the carpet, she pursed her lips, nodding to herself. “I think someone is trying to kill me and my sister again.” She looked up to see William’s staring at her with wide eyes. “And they’re on the suspect list,” Sam gave a little shrug.

Williams opened and closed her mouth a few times, clearly trying to process her words. “You think the person you like is trying to kill you?” Williams said slowly.

“Well, not just them, everyone’s a suspect.” Williams nodded unsurely. “I’m not being paranoid,” Sam tried to assure. “At least I don’t think I am,” she shook her head. “Tara always says I’m too paranoid but this time there’s a legitimate reason.”

Sam’s words slowly died down as Doctor Williams raised her hand. “Let’s start from the beginning,” Williams said softly.

Sam swallowed, ringing her hands as she tried to calm her nerves. “There was a murder last night. Two boys in Tara’s class killed their professor.” Williams furrowed her brow. “Then someone murdered them in their apartment.” Williams opened her mouth, but Sam wasn’t done yet. “There’s no proof, but the killings might have been committed by Ghostface.”

“And what makes you think this is Ghostface? Are you sure he’s not just on your mind, it’s around that time of year, no?”

Sam clenched her hands together. “The two students, they were fanatics,” she rolled her eyes. “Fans of Richie apparently. They were planning on killing me and my sister, but someone killed them first.”

“And you think that someone is Ghostface?”

Sam nodded. “Ghostface would never let two kids,” she scoffed. “Take out me and my sister. Not that they could,” she ran a hand through her hair.

Before Doctor Williams could say anything else the timer went off, signaling the end of their session. “See, you next week, I guess.” Sam gave a shy smile as she got up from the couch.

“Wait, I don’t want you to do anything rash,” Williams rushed, following behind her but Sam was already out the door.

Sam checked her surroundings once again as she exited the building. She began her walk back to the apartment. When she got back to the apartment, she saw everyone still in the living room. “We got pizza,” Tara said, nodding to the box on the table. Sam snapped a glare at her sister as she dropped her keys into the bowl by the door. “Anika went to pick it up,” Tara held up her hands, but Sam didn’t miss the eyeroll.

Sam sighed, shaking her head at her sister as she made her way to her room. She got ready for bed, but her mind wouldn’t stop. She kept thinking about the killings, about Ghostface potentially being back, and who they could trust.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998

[genderqueerdykes]

if you are a trans man or masc, masculine nonbinary, genderqueer, genderfluid or other gender non conforming identity, masc gay, a bear, a butch, stud, or boi, or other masculine queer person and don't feel welcome in any queer spaces, you're not alone.

the communities both irl and online have become EXTREMELY hostile toward mascs and men to the point of straight up excluding us and changing their wording to justify their violent exclusion. from renaming nonbinary spaces to "femme & them" and "she+" spaces, to telling men & mascs that they would "Scare" the women and "nonbinary" folks just by being there, as if masculinity and manhood are inherently traumatizing to be around.

masculine and male nonbinary folks have it so hard- most nonbinary spaces are almost definitely women's spaces who also conflate womanhood with nonbinaryhood, and often times just view nonbinary people as confused women. we are not inherently traumatizing to be around: masc enbies need places to go. we are still nonbinary and still trans and still queer for fucks' sake

nonbinary has never and will never mean femme or woman-adjacent inherently. nonbinary means what it means: people who don't or refuse to adhere to the gender binary, regardless of what side it is. masculinity is included in this, femininity is not the only way to be nonbinary.

masc queers do not have to bend over backwards to try to be more feminine and thus "less threatening" in order to have places to go. that's dysphoric and just inaccurate to a lot of queer folks' identity and presentation. it blows my mind because it makes no sense, anyway, even within the gay community, hypermasculinity has been present and even sought after by some people who find it very attractive, twunks, hunks, bears... but between the periods in queer history people started viewing masc gay leathermen and kinksters as the ones who were responsible for spreading AIDS and thus removing them from pride parades,

AND the lesbian separatism moment picking up to remove butches & male & masc lesbians from lesbian spaces identity, paving the way for modern rdical femniism, we've only entered a downhill landslide of hating men and mascs and ultimately trying to erase us from the queer community entirely.

the queer community is not the "women & femmes community". the queer experience is broad and vast, it includes a wide variety of masculine and male experiences, as well as genderfluid, multigender, completely ungendered and other gendered experiences. the lesbian, trans, bisexual, nonbinary, gay and general queer communities aren't the "safe place to hide from men & mascs community" like estranged rdfems and terfpilled trans folk like to tell you they are.

this is the QUEER community and it includes ALL forms of queerness, masc, femme, butch, male, neutral, bigender, neutral, and all. he/shes and he/hims and he/theys and he/its and so on are just as much of a part of this communities as she/hers and they/thems. you can't cast a blanket of "inherently abusive" over all men and mascs and one of "inherently abused/incapable of being abusive" over all women and femmes because that just traps you in a fantasy land that doesn't exist AND it prevents mascs and men from getting the help, resources and community they NEED.

men & mascs are hurt and abused by women & femmes every day and we refuse to speak about them because we live under a white cisheteronormal patriarchy and have complaints about how that functions. the complaints are legitimate but assuming that all men and mascs are oppressing all women and femmes and that women can never be oppressive is a false as hell narrative that actively damages people.

enough is enough. this mindset is hurting people. it's leaving masc and male queers to be estranged, harmed and even dead. i care about you if you're being affected by this mentality and these behaviors. you deserve community, safety, and a sense of belonging, you do belong, even if we struggle to form our own spaces due to unjust hatred. we will do our best to band together and keep each other safe. we must

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Seven Minutes

luke castellan x reader

A/N: i was so excited to write this request as soon as i saw it so i hope you enjoy!

TW: smut, luke being a cocky little shit

word count: 1,172 words

Playing seven minutes in heaven is not an appealing idea to you. You don’t like the idea of being trapped in a closet with a guy who isn’t of your choosing and it isn’t some stupid kissing game that’s over in a second, but there is sadly no saying no to Silena Beauregard. Your friend is literally the embodiment of an Aphrodite child with her ability to persuade. For gods’ sake she actually has the word ‘beautiful’ in her name and everyone knows that someone with such a likeness to the love goddess isn’t someone that can be refused.

“There’s going to be lots of good looking people there I promise… Charlie, Clarisse… Luke.” Silena murmurs the last name.

“What?” You’re clearly pissed. She can hear it in your tone.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” She asks innocently.

“What was the last name you just said?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just listing people at camp who are objectively attractive.”

“Just objectively attractive or objectively attractive and playing seven minutes in heaven tonight?” You ask, giving her a pointed look.

“The second one.” She replies quietly.

“I’m not going if Luke is going to be there.” You tell her petulantly, stopping in your tracks like you’re going to turn around and head back to your cabin.

“So you did hear me.”

“I’m not going.” You start to walk back but she grabs your wrist.

“Yes you are!”

“I’m not. I hate him. I want him dead. I pray for his downfall on every quest he goes on.”

“All I can hear is that you spend a lot of time thinking about him.”

“Silena!”

“I’m sorry but if you think about it, all this hatred could just be pent up sexual frustration.”

“It’s not.”

“It could be!” She realizes that she isn’t anywhere close to getting through to you so she holds both your hands in hers. “Please just come. The bottle most likely won’t even land on him anyway. Just think about it as a fun night.”

“Fun night my ass.” You grumble but turn around and begin to walk back to the Aphrodite cabin. Silena giggles excitedly.

When you walk in, almost everyone of the older campers in Silena’s friend group are already there. Your eyes fall on Luke first and he gives you an annoying little smirk.

“Okay, now that everyone important is here…” Silena smiles before sitting down. Clarisse hands her an empty beer bottle. “I’ll go first.” She spins the bottle and grins when it lands on Charles. If your eyes aren’t deceiving you, you could swear Clarisse’s face drops for a millisecond.

The person next to Charles goes next, and then Clarisse goes and now, it’s your turn. You’re not really sure how it’s your turn already, but you aren’t about to argue with Silena over the spinning order. You look at Luke before you spin and he gives you another cocky smirk. You try to ignore him and spin the bottle, doing it perhaps a touch too hard because it goes in circles forever. When the bottle slows, it is clearly about to stop on some Apollo kid before it shifts a little more and lands on Luke.

What the fuck?

He looks away from a son of Boreas to you. “Up you get then, princess.” He stands.

You look at Silena with ‘help me’ eyes but she shrugs with a guilty grin. So now you’re walking over to Luke. He holds out a hand so he can lead you to the closet but you slap it away as you pass him. He turns on a dim light as you enter and shuts the door behind him.

“Look at my luck.” He says in a suave tone, holding his hands out like it was the gods’ bidding.

“Did you really bribe a wind god kid so that the bottle would land on you?”

“Perceptive.” He comments. “I was just lucky that I happened to be sitting North of you. So maybe it is the gods’ will.”

“You think it’s the gods will that we fuck in this closet?” You scoff.

“You said it, baby not me.” His right hand falls to your waist, gripping at your love handles. “But sadly, we don’t have enough time for me to fuck you properly.”

“Get your hands off me.” Your gaze is filled with a lot of passion. Whether that passion is lust or hate, he isn’t sure.

“Make me.”

When you don’t make him take his hands off you (which you most could) he takes that as a sign that you want him just as much as he wants you, so he pulls you in for a rough kiss. You hate how you kiss him back, whimpering into his mouth when you feel his hand slip up your thigh to rub you through your jeans. He slips his tongue into your mouth as he begins to make quick work of your zipper. Luke tugs your jeans down and chuckles at the sight of your lacy panties.

“Were you planning on getting screwed tonight or is this just coincidence?” 

“Shut up.” You murmur before forcing your mouth back against his.

He rubs you through your panties for a second but you both know you’re short on time so he slips them to the side, sliding his fingers through your arousal. 

“Gods, you’re so wet.” He whispers into your mouth before plunging two fingers inside of you, curling them in just the right spot. You whine softly, pissed at how good he is at touching you. He leans his head down and begins to kiss your neck. He suckles on the same spot for about a minute so he leaves a deep red mark. “Oops, left a little colour.”

“Luke!” You scold quietly and he begins to rub your clit with his thumb so you can’t think straight enough to say anything else.

“Just have to let people know who’s girl you are, princess.” He starts rubbing your clit a little harder. “Who’s girl are you?”

You’re feeling so good and you’re so close to your peak that you moan out, “Your girl.”

“That’s right. Cum on my fingers, baby.” He demands and you do right away, squeezing around his fingers as you get your release. “You better get dressed.” He says as he checks his watch. “You’ve got about 12 seconds before they open that door.”

He’s clearly amused as you struggle to get your pants back on in time but that doesn’t mean you don’t notice as he licks your cum off his fingers, moaning just a little bit.

“Times up, lovebirds.” One of the other Aphrodite girls says as she swings open the door.

You walk out as soon as she does and you don’t make eye contact with anyone as you storm out of the cabin.  

“We’re done with the game for today.” Luke says cockily as he quickly grabs both your jackets and chases you out the door for round two.

Silena grins. “I knew it.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread @kissingyourgrl @vikimontethegirlblogger @maryann2013 @stark-head @remussbitch @ever8ea @batmandabest @jennapancake @junos-web @tanifsblog @stupidtween 

[whoskimii]

cackles and requests cuddlefucking with size kink toji from my wonderful queen venus

STAWWWP you made me blush (call me that again :3)

⋆౨ৎ˚ notes > toji x you. filthy filth! he has a size kink <33 also breeding kink ig??? (bonus :3) tell me if i missed anything!! ^^ ౨ৎ warning : you may have butterflies in your belly while reading this!! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

if toji loved something more than gambling, it was definitely the way you seemed so small beside him. of course, anyone looked tiny next to that man. it wasn't breaking news.

he had an unhealthy obsession with the way he was literally twice your size. he loved knowing the fact that he was able to do whatever he wanted to you and you couldn't fight back. even though he didn't. but only because he loved you tolerated you. it's almost like you were inferior to him, in some way.

he loved pointing that out, whether it's explicitly or implicitly. sometimes when you were cooking and tried to reach for something on a shelf that was way too high for you (poor baby :3), he'd magically appear behind you and place a massive hand on your hip before grabbing what you were looking for. he would lean down and whisper in your ear. "call me if y'need help, doll," he mumbled. "y'know you're way too small for that."

or some other times when you were observing yourself in the mirror, he hugged you from behind. at first glance, it seemed sweet. but he would never miss the chance to wrap his large hand around your throat and squeeze a little. not enough to hurt you but definitely enough to knock the air out of your lungs for a few seconds. he just loved reminding you how strong he was and how weak you were. he was almost taunting you. it was like reminding you of your place, in some sense.

it was a late night when you found yourself cuddling with toji. he loved moments like this— moments when all he could focus on was your size difference.

your back was pressed against his broad, warm chest. his face was tucked in your neck and you could feel his breath tickling your sensitive skin. you were holding a teddy bear, which he hated. yeah, he had literal beef with a damn plushie. he knew how ridiculous he was, especially for a man of his stature but in all honesty, he couldn't give two shits. he just hated the way you'd cuddle it and clutch it to your chest tightly.

the moonlight entered the room through the shutters, creating a cozy atmosphere. he lifted his head from your neck and clicked his tongue as he noticed the teddy bear. he grabbed it and threw it over his head before the plushy landed on the ground with a soft thud. you whined in protest. "toji..." you mumbled.

you were about to sit up but he prevented you from doing so. he held you to his chest and nuzzled his nose in your hair. "pay attention to me," he ordered quietly. "forget 'bout that damn bear. you should throw it, anyway. it's childish."

his words made you scoff. he was the one being childish. "but i like it... was a gift from my grandma..." he chuckled. "yeah ? she's dead, ain't she ? you can throw it away now." you rolled your eyes. "shut up."

he planted slow kisses in your neck, grinding his crotch into your ass. "to'..." you mumbled. "mhm ?" he hummed, his voice muffled by your skin. "m'tired..." he chuckled. "yeah ? don't worry, doll, i'm 'boutta do all the work." you suddenly felt his large hand sliding under your panties, which made you gasp quietly. you relaxed against his chest and hummed.

the tip of his middle finger began playing with your cute little clit as he continued kissing your neck, eventually dragging his lips down your shoulder. after he gathered enough wetness, he circled your needy entrance, occasionally prodding and pushing at it. "don't tease..." you muttered. he chuckled and finally slid a thick finger in your warm little cunnie. "theeeere you go. feels good, huh ? i don't think that shitty teddy bear can finger you this good."

you sighed, feeling the absence of the comfy plushie you normally held close. "toji... don't tell me you're jealous of him..." he clicked his tongue. "me ? jealous of a damn bear ? think again, sweet cheeks." yeah, he actually was. he even hated the way you'd refer to that stupid thing as he. almost as if it was a human. the pace of his finger picked up, which made you whine. "gunna come, to'..." he smirked. already ? "nuh-huh. keep that for my dick."

you sighed as he pulled his finger out and suddenly forced it between your lips. he watched you taste yourself, all the while pushing his sweatpants down. "m'gonna stuff you nice and full and you won't make a noise. 'kay ?" he mumbled lazily before pushing his tip to your sloppy little hole.

he entered you and once he was bottomed out in your soft pussy, he groaned. "shit." he cursed. he began rolling his hips against yours, thrusting in and out of you while keeping a disinterested expression. his green eyes settled on the teddy bear that was still on the ground and he kept staring at it as he fucked himself into your tight little heat, almost as if he was taunting the plushie.

he frowned as you clenched around him and pawed at his back. "toji..." you whimpered. the sound of his name falling out of your lips like that made him twitch inside you. "yeah ? y'want my cum, s'that it ? i know." the way you were pinned underneath him by his weight made him groan. "shit... y'so small, y'know that...? could fucking break you if m'not careful enough." he sighed.

the thought of making you pregnant flashed in his mind for a second. he pictured you all nice and swollen with his baby. imagining such a little human carrying his baby— the baby of such a massive man— made him shiver. the contrast between you two was obvious. "i'll give you my cum, if that's what y'want. gotta put it to good use. don't have as much as i used to, y'know ?" he smirked at the little moan that escaped your lips.

"toji, m'gonna come..." you sighed. "yeah, i bet. with the way she's clenchin' around my cock, s'easy to tell." his eyes flicked to your creamy pussy, watching the way your little hole swallowed his large dick eagerly. "s'always a wonder how you can take me." you hummed, feeling how your gummy walls stretched around him. "m'coming, toji..."

he smirked. "go ahead." it only took you a few other thrusts to gush around him. "toji !" you moaned as your lower lip got caught between your teeth. "fuck— gonna cum too, doll." he frowned and came right after you, tucking his head in your neck.

after toji came down from his high, he stayed inside you and chuckled. "don't think that damn plushie can get you off that good, huh ?" you hummed breathlessly. "toji... you jealous...?" you mumbled. he sighed and kissed your forehead. "yeah."

oh.

ayo whose horse is that

⋆˚࿔ kimi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[prettymuchteddy]

People who say that House Hightower destroyed the Targaryen dynasty are kind of silly because House Strong is right there. Like House Strong really apparently wanted to get in on the action and just helped bring down a monarchy.

Harwin straight-up had illegitimate children with the crown princess. And yes I know it takes two to tango but Harwin could have stopped it, though as we see in episode 6 he is more than down with this arrangement. The fact that the children just kept coming out looking nothing like her and he still kept seeing Rhaenyra. After Jace he should have taken a step back, I guess he wanted to see if things would change with Luke? Clearly not. The rumors about Rhaenyra's children just tarnished her reputation and put a target on their children's backs. This was him supporting Rhaenyra too and all he was doing was making things worse.

Larys is a whole nother level. The man flipped sides more than a pancake on a stove. The man was plotting against everyone, I swear. He was undermining anyone who wasn't outright helping him. He even got some personal hits in by helping force Rhaenyra out of King's Landing and then poisoning Aegon. This man was made for chaos and he happened to be born in the right time for it.

Lyonel is rarely talked about but it needs to be said, if Viserys neglected the growing problems so did Lyonel. He watched for years as his son, the commander of the city watch, got close to the princess and her having children who looked suspiciously like him yet said nothing. It's not until Criston Cole mentions it that he confronts Harwin. Like just because no one has had the guts to say doesn't mean no one was thinking it. He said it himself Harwin is committing treason that can result in the exile/death of Harwin, Rhaenyra, and the children but again why say it this late?

Just when you thought all the Strongs were dead after Aemond's attack on Harrenhal, enter Alys Rivers. Whether you believe that she cast a spell on Aemond or not, she followed her family tradition of messing with the Targaryens. Intentionally or not, she led Aemond to Daemon and was there to witness them kill each other. Single handily, she killed two Taragryens as well as two dragons: Vhagar and Caraxes. Then she ran off with baby Aemondcito to vibe at her vacant family home.

Say what you will about the Hightowers, I have never seen such a collected group effort by one family (unintentional or not) to cause so much chaos to another family. They were on opposing sides at some points yet still through every step were petty and screwed over the Targaryens. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. This was mostly me highlighting how weirdly funny it is how involved House Strong was in taking down the Targaryens before they themselves went extinct as a house. No hate to anyone just weird how connected they are with everything.

[twoidiotwriters1]

With Luffy!? (Monkey D. Luffy x fem! reader)

A/N: I just need more inspiration! send requests! - Val

Words: 1,130

A normal day at the Sunny is about to change when it lands on a new mysterious island. Y/N and Zoro are the first to go to the town to get supplies. 

Before the rest could leave the ship, a little boy runs through the low deck. The kid giggles and runs everywhere until he stops in front of the crew and waves his little hand. 

Nami, Usopp, Robin and Chopper stop and stay still as their eyes follow him. 

“Hi!” He smiles and runs again. 

“A kid?” Chopper asks. 

“How?” Then Usopp. 

“Doesn't he look..?” Nami starts. 

“Like Luffy!” Robin smiles. 

*** 

They start with some questions when they catch him. 

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Nami asks with a smile. 

The boy giggles. “You know my name, Auntie Nami.” 

“Where are your parents?” Usopp says next. 

“I dunno,” he shrugs. 

“Are you sick or hurt?” Chopper asks. 

“No needles!” He screams and runs again. 

Now, he enters the kitchen. A couple of minutes later, Sanji exits the kitchen with the kid in his arms. The boy has a bottle of water. 

“Does anybody know where Joy’s parents are?” He asks the others. 

“Joy?” 

“Yeah, that’s his name.” 

Eventually, the others get together, and they all fall in love with the charming boy. Franky decides to make a highchair and immediately, baby-proof the Sunny. Brook starts to play his violin to him and makes funny songs. 

“I can’t help it, he’s really cute!” Nami squeals hugging Joy and pushes him to be cheek against cheek as he giggles. 

“Pretty Auntie Nami,” Joy points at her. 

“And so smart!” 

“Wait,” Usopp says walking to them. “She’s your auntie?” He points at Nami and Joy nods. “Who is she?” Usopp points to Robin. 

“Auntie Lobin.” 

“Okay so, the mother’s not here and we can’t ask where he came from or his birthday.” 

“Am fou,” Joy says raising four fingers. 

“Oi, Sanji! I’m hungry!” Luffy yells jumping and landing on deck. 

“Dadda!” Joy squirms in Nami’s arms to run to his dad. The kid holds Luffy’s leg and giggles “Hi, dadda!” 

“Uh—hi?” 

“I’ve never thought to live long enough to see Luffy with his son… Even though I’m already dead!” Brook laughs. 

“My what!?” 

The kitchen’s full of laughs from the crew and the little boy as Luffy keeps making silly faces, stretching his face, and playing with his food to make Joy laugh too. Of course, Joy loves his dad’s and crew’s attention. After a while, little Joy boy yawns and scratches his eyes.  

“I sleepy,” he pouts. “Wan’ my Mommy.” 

The crew share a tense look not knowing what to do. 

“Dad,” Luffy looks at him. “Wers Mamma?” 

“Uh—she’s...” 

“We’ve arrived!” You yell from outside. 

Joy turns his head to the door and squirms trying to get out of the highchair. Luffy frowns and helps him. 

“Mamma?” He says leaving the kitchen. The crew follow him. When the kid sees you, he smiles and runs to you raising his little arms. “Mamma!” You frown down at him as he keeps jumping “Up! Up! Pwease!” You let down the shopping bags and carry the strange kid.  

He holds you by the neck, leans to rest his head on your shoulder as he sucks his thumb and closes his tired eyes. 

“Awwww,” the crew sing at the cute scene. 

You look at them confused. 

“We leave you alone and you kidnap a kid?” Zoro asks completely lost. “And...” He leans to see the peaceful kid. “One that looks like Luffy?” 

“It’s a long story,” Robin says. 

“Has anybody else heard Joy say ‘mamma’ to Y/N?” Usopp asks carefully. 

“Joy?” You ask. 

“Hmm?” The boy leans back to look at you.  

“Oh,” You understand it. 

“Night-night?” He asks. 

“Uh—okay” You look at the crew waiting for an answer, but they all shrug. “Fine, I’ll put him to bed,” You walk to your shared room. “Wait, did you call me mamma?” 

*** 

“All right, he’s asleep. Now, explain,” you point at the others. 

“Luffy's son and mine!?” You squeal. “What? How? Why? When?” You look at Luffy and he only smiles. 

When Joy wakes up again, he says he wants to play with his uncles. More specific, with Zozo, Uso, Faky, Saji, Book and Fluffy (Chopper). Luffy pouts when Joy doesn’t mention him, but you take the chance to talk to him. 

“Why aren’t you freaking out? 

“‘Cuz I like him,” he smiles. 

“Luffy, please. You need to think about this. He’s a little boy, our little boy.” 

“Yeah, I know that. And I think it’s awesome,” he points to the low deck, where Joy’s playing tag with his uncles. “I know he looks like me, but he also does the scrunchy nose thing when he smiles, like you do.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, and he looks like you when he pouts. Oh! He caresses my cheek like you do when we’re alone and I think you two have the same eyes.” 

The truth is that when you joined the crew, you couldn’t help but think about your captain differently. But the time showed you that Luffy doesn’t care or think about having a relationship beyond crew mate with anybody. 

Besides, that was a long time ago. 

That’s why you can’t believe (if Joy’s from the future) that you’ll have a kid with Luffy. But his words did affect you and moved so many things inside you, and, of course, you can’t deny that your kid is the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. 

“Luffy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you know how to make a baby?” 

He frowns. “Uh… yeah. Why? 

“Just curious,” You walk away with a blush on your cheeks. 

“Les go night-night again!” Joy says holding Luffy’s hand. 

“Joy, wait. Dad has to sleep in his own room,” You stop him when he guides both of you to your room. 

“Good night, kiddo’,” Luffy says and walks away, but the cry of his son makes him stop in his tracks. 

You quickly carry him in your arms. “What’s wrong?” You ask him. 

“Dadda come night-night with mommy an me!” He yells pointing at Luffy. 

*** 

“Good night, Kiddo” 

“Night-night, Dadda, night-night Mommy.” 

“Sweet dreams, baby,” you kiss his cheek. 

You had to move Nami’s bed and put it next to yours so that all three could fit in. Although Luffy and Joy are fast asleep, for you it takes more time. You watch them as the moonlight shines through the room. 

You smile as Luffy moves and groans in his sleep, facing you and Joy. His arm moves and stretches enough to hug both of you closer to him. It’s quite crazy knowing that you’ll have a kid with Luffy, but you can’t deny that you could get used to it… anytime. 

[lovexjoe]

On the Run Mini Series

Warnings: Death, language, angst. Mention of abuse. Part 1

"This is your fault! If you would have just listened to me we wouldn't be stranded right now!" Kayla was fuming marching next to Armando. They had no communication back to the team. Honestly Armando saved both of their asses by landing the plane. Was she gonna admit that? Nope!

"We would have been fucked up either way, at least the enemies are dead and we can make our way back. Now shut the fuck up and do as I say. You're in my world now" He towers over her, beaming down at her letting her know if he wanted to he could just go his separate way and leave her to fend for herself.

They hated each other from the moment Armando step foot into their lives. Wanna know what's the cherry on top? Kayla was the one to shoot Isabel causing her to fall into the fire. Armando hated her guts since that very moment. In reality Isabel was gonna shoot him a second time, but he was already dazed out in Mike's arms to realize. No one else ever brought that moment up. Mood killer for sure.

Both of them were beat up pretty bad, neither of them ready to admit defeat as they kept moving through the woods trying to find a place to sleep. Kayla points out what seems like an abandoned camp sight. Armando found what he could for the fire and used the lucky lighter that survived the crash. Kayla was scared of the dark, if she looked pass the fire is was just an abyss of darkness. She busied herself by usually a branch to draw lines in the dirt.

They sat in silence. Armando looking at her as she continues to draw her lines, he never really looked at her face for too long. He was always disgusted with her in general. She took some hard hits during the accident, but she was still standing strong.

"Armando?" She looks up at him, not realizing that he was already looking at her. Her stomach doing a flip. He nodded his head for her to continue her question.

"What...what was it like for you growing up?" She didn't want him to explode, but she truly was bored out of her mind. They never had a decent conversation, so why not start now? He thought about her question for the moment, wanting to share, but knew she'd just pity him.

"Nothing close to the princess treatment you had." He said dryly then turn his focus to watch the fire. It was gonna take more than her big brown puppy eyes to get him to open up. Kayla bites her lip to keep herself from tearing up. It hit a sore spot, she never had the princess treatment. Her father was abusive to her and mom since she could remember. Just for her to enter an abusive relationship with her ex, that she barely escaped from. Kayla turns her back to Armando, sniffling and trying to get into a comfortable position to sleep. That was the last time she was gonna try to talk to him. They both dozed off listening to the fire and hoped tomorrow was a better day.

[riofann]

1. tempestuous

Authors Note: I am trying something new. I like this story line please give me your feedback. Only reposts and likes please don't steal my work. XOXO Rose

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Sunday March 3, 2019 

This wasn't just some little miss understanding, this was sabotage at its core. It's why you found yourself in a random warehouse strapped to the chair bruised and bloody.

Rio was convinced you had been under cutting him for months, that the money you were washing for him was short for the past 4 months. He claimed you had been purposefully giving him fake money mixed with real money, which ended up with him having Mick point a gun to the back of your head as soon as you walked in your home. 

Any attempts to have him show proof that you were not were thwarted by Nick egging Rio on, unbeknownst to you.

You had mentally prepared for death mentally prayed that your mother and father, sisters would heal from this pain along with the rest of your family. You hear footsteps approaching your heart begins to race. You had memorized his gait along with Mick's, this was it. Your death day was here.

There's nothing said but you feel your legs being untied along with your hands, he made sure to leave the head covering on. 

“Get up!” Mick says grabbing your arm

You're too scared to move but a strong grip on your arm forcefully drags you forward.

You’re uneasy as you walk because you didn't know where you were going,  you couldn't see anything. Mick helps you step in the van. The drive is quiet, you sit with your hands on your lap, body shaking at any given moment you could be dead. All the thoughts rush through your mind, your bar, your family, your house, your future, it's giving you a migraine. When the van stops, your mouth dries up you could be on a bridge over water or a remote land with a shallow grave.  

When you step out Mick removes the head cover and your eyes take time to adjust. 

You stood at the park near your home. There's nothing said, you look behind you as Mick gets in the van and drives away. You take in the scene, you can't think of how happy you are to hear children laugh in the distance or the sound of people talking. 

It's all still a shock to you. You look around and find a bench. Slowly you walk towards it. You sit at the most remote corner, no shower for a week, you’re positive you looked like you were unhoused. 

Moments pass before you let the tears flow. The deep wound of betrayal that you felt wouldn't be healed by a simple apology hell you hadn't even received one.

After a while as the sun begins to set you stand up slowly. The walk to your house would normally be 20 minutes but since you are weak it will take longer,  and staying out at night wasn't your plan. 

With unsure steps you begin to walk home. You’re happy to not see any familiar faces at the park. You couldn’t handle any one asking you what happened or you would have implicated Rio. 

When you get home you type in the key code to  enter and find your home in disarray. You deduced that Rio was looking for the money he claimed you were shorting him on. 

You search for your phone and find it in the rubble dead. Your house doesn't feel safe, it feels surreal, like at any moment Rio could be sitting on the corner chair waiting for you with a gun in hand and Mick lurking right around the corner, ready to shoot.

After a little more searching you find the charger and plug it in.

When it turns on you see the many calls missed your workers, your mom, your dad, your sister, your cousin, unknown numbers 

You make the first call “Hello! Y/N?!” You hear your mom scream through the phone

“Hey mom” you greet

“Where the hell have you been?! We've been calling you for the past week and you just ignore us?! We were worried about you!” 

It's all too much you begin to cry she didn't know,  no one knew about what you were doing but Rio and his crew

You gather yourself “I'm sorry mommy”  you cut her off

She pauses, “What's wrong?” 

You take in a deep breath “I'm sorry I disappeared mom I won't do it again” 

“Do I need to come over?” she lived a few states away in Ohio

You panic “NO!...” you take a deep breath again “No! I just I needed time to myself I got stressed I won't do that again I promise” you master up a calm tone

She sighs “okay, but what happened? Did you get hurt?” 

“You know the bar and life I just got overwhelmed” you lie 

“Honey I'm your mother you call me when things get tough you don't just disappear!” we called the police!" She lectures. “I couldn't sleep! Y/N it felt like something wrong happened!” your stomach drops she wasn’t wrong 

“I'm sorry mom I really am I won't do it again” 

“Well I'm coming to see you next week”  

“Mom you don't...”

She cuts you off “Nope I'm coming, something is wrong I know my child!” 

You sniffed “okay” you looked at your shaking hands 

“Okay well let me call you back I gotta get in touch with the police and everyone else let them know you’re alright” 

“Okay mom”

“When I call you better pick up and don't go missing again”

“I promise I won't!” 

“I love you” 

“I love you too” 

You hung up and go through similar conversation with your sister and the manager of the bar 

When it all ends you drag yourself to the shower and take one of the longest showers you’ve ever taken, you couldn't help but sob the entire time. You scrubbed so hard a week with no shower in a dingy warehouse you felt so dirty. 

All trust had been destroyed so much for this “partnership”

You hope to be able to sleep but you can't. Your body is riddled with anxiety, with every sound you hear your  heartbeat spiked. You couldn’t even bring yourself to drink water or eat anything that's in the fridge. You just want to disappear, move to a small town in the middle of nowhere and figure things out. 

You received a text in the middle of the night 

Rio: Business as usual 

You had stared at it for hours 

Business as usual as if all that happened meant nothing. 

How could you get out of this? What could you do to free yourself from this and him? Maybe offer up the bar? But this is something you worked hard on, this bar was one of the top bars in Detroit you weren’t willing to give it up to him. You had to think about what life would look like outside of the bar and what did you want out of life? 

Slowly over the course of the week you clean up the house, you eat something here and there and you drink water when you remember. You’re not sure how you managed to clean up the house in the state it was left in, must have been adrenaline.  Even after your mother insisted something was wrong when she came to visit you, that Friday you  faked the funk. How could you tell her that you were deeply entrenched with a man who has a whole cartel like of criminals on his side? All the questions that would come from that. You would have to explain how Rio essentially twisted your arm to agree and how you stupidly didn't go to the police.

When you finally show up at the bar the following Monday  everyone teases about your disappearance and you play along but you have things to do, books to manipulate money to wash. You lock yourself in the office while you gather the money. You count over 10 times making sure it's right each time. You don’t trust the machine as it counts you run it through verify by hand run it through again verify it then set it aside. You added extra just for good measure because you didn’t trust yourself either. 

Wednesday March 13, 2019 

As you wait for him to show up at your usual pick up spot, you feel sick to your stomach, no more sitting down and waiting for him. All sense of security between you two had crumbled. A car pulls up and you grip the bag tightly. 

It's a strange face

Your phone pings 

Rio: Got busy, you’ll be dealing with Jamal moving forward

The man walks up to you with a smile on his face. “You must be Y/N” You nod, he hands you a yellow envelope you hand him the bag with shaky hands “Good doing business with you” he comments before turning to leave 

“Can you make sure it's all there?” you blurt out 

He laughs at your ridiculous comment “can’t do that out here in public lady, I’ll let Rio know” 

You nod again and watch as he drives away. 

This is your routine now, Rio never confirmed instead he would just add the extra back into your cut. You adjust to this new norm of life. 

You don’t see or hear from him for months, maybe it was for the best after all, you were angry with him you had every right to be. Well things don’t last forever and nothing is written in stone. 

Tuesday June 4, 2019 

Your stomach drops when you walk into your house that night, you feel the day you were kidnapped replaying itself. There was Rio on the corner chair with Mick lurking around the corner. 

“Not here to hurt you mama” he comments lifting his hands up to show that he wasn't there with malicious intent

You hadn’t left the door, in fact you were slowly inching away

“I wouldn’t do that”

“What do you want?” You ask in a shaky voice

“We need to talk” “You can text it” 

“I can’t” 

You sigh and close the door 

“I need your help” he reveals as you enter the living room. You don’t respond

“All that money I gave you, I need it, I’ll pay you back” 

You place your purse down “Why don’t you go get it I’m sure you know where it is”

He smirks because that was true  “don’t be like that mama” he tries to win you over 

“Don’t be like..” you pause “FUCK YOU RIO!” You scream “YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST SHOW UP AND ASK FOR MY MONEY, THE MONEY I WORKED HARD FOR?! WITHOUT AN APOLOGY WITHOUT ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF WHAT YOU DID TO ME!?” 

He rolls his shoulders back “It's just business” “BUSINESS?!” You stomp towards him Mick goes to interfere but Rio stops him. You glare at Mick “WHAT? YOU DON’T THINK YOUR BOSS CAN HANDLE HIMSELF, HE'S THAT MUCH OF A BITCH?!” When you turn to face Rio a blank stare replaces his expression no longer amused by your anger, guess that insult wasn’t taken lightly “I’VE BEEN YOUR PARTNER FOR 2 FUCKING YEARS! 2 YEARS! AND NEVER DID I EVER SHORT YOU. I ALWAYS MADE SURE THAT THE AMOUNT I GAVE YOU WAS RIGHT! AND YOU WHAT? YOUR FUCKING COUSIN” he shifts uncomfortable that you know the details behind the scenes “YEA I FOUND OUT, THE MOTHERFUCKER YOU CLAIM TO BE UNTRUST WORTHY YOU ALL OF A SUDDEN TRUST HIM?!” 

He says nothing “YEA JUST BUSINESS THIS IS WHO YOU ARE AS A PARTNER HUH? YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT LOYALTY AND PRINCIPAL, FUCK EVERYONE ELSE SO LONG AS YOU GOT YOUR MONEY RIGHT?” You pause looking at him waiting to see any sort of remorse, regret, something, anything! However he says nothing, his face is stoic like you were complaining about nothing important. As the tears stream down your face, you accept that this was pointless, he was never going to admit fault and you were never going to be able to step away from this life unless you were dead or in prison.  You take a deep breath, defeated you say  “You know where the money is go get it” you step away and motion towards the direction. He gives Mick a nod. He says nothing else, and you watch as they both leave. As soon as the door closes a loud scream leaves your body as soon as they walk out. How were you going to get out of this? Maybe fake your death or  leave the country to start over in a small village in the middle of nowhere!

Nothing changes after that day, still dealing with Jamal and still trying to find a way out of things. You receive an invitation from Nick to some sort of  masquerade ball in the city to “raise” funds for local charities. Mayor "duties". You assume not attending wasn’t an option.

Saturday July 13, 2019

The day of the ball arrives, you booked a town car for the night. No point in driving yourself and as far as you were concerned if anyone wanted to hurt you they could because you had no safety net after all. 

You step into the space you have to admit Nick went all out planning this event because it looked like a scene from a movie. You find your table and take a seat. You know no one who sits at your table you take a look around and spot Rio. It was easy,  anyone could spot his tattoo from a distance. A few speeches, the auction, then dinner is served proceeding with the party next. You look down at your watch, you had spent enough time at the event and you were hungry. 

If there was anything you learned from Rio and Nick never trust them so the most you did was nibble on your dinner plate and take small sips of your drink. 

“This seat taken?” you hear from behind you making look

You smile “No”

“Great!” he pulls out the chair 

“Hi I’m Alejandro”  he extends his hand to greet you 

You shake his hand  “Y/N Nice to meet you” 

He bows his head “Mucho gusto cariño (nice to meet you dear)”

“So do you work with Rio?” He takes a sip of his drink 

Not again it felt like you were being set up “Why do you want to know?” you finally take him in a man the same age as Rio and Nick rocking a gold canine tooth with many necklaces and rings on his finger. Gold to be exact. He had a thick accent, you assume somewhere from Central America or Spanish speaking country. 

He waves his hand around his head “Rumors go flying around” You nod still unsure of the purpose of this conversation “And Majority of the women here are plus one to their boyfriends or husband wasn’t hard to find you, that dress you came in all alone, heads were turning” he shamelessly looks you over biting his lip

“What do you want?” this conversation needed to end quickly 

He smiles, it makes you uneasy “Oh I don't want anything....” he pauses “It's a shame that they put you through that” you shift uncomfortably “But now you know who they are, the Serraño family. This is how they operate, they are vicious, they don’t care how many lives they destroy, they don’t operate with any principals...” 

You cut him off “I have come to that conclusion” 

He stops and chuckles lightly “Anyway I’m a much better option, I honor my principals and partnerships. I will have people reach out to you next week. Maybe I can take you out to lunch and we can talk.  You don’t have to stick with them” 

You nod but look past him to see Rio staring at both of you. Even the women trying to engage with him were failing due to how his gaze was dead set on you and Alejandro.

Alejandro looked back following your gaze as an additional ‘fuck you’ to Rio he raises his glass as a toast before turning back to face you “Ooop! I’ve been caught” with that he quickly stands up “Talk to you later cariño” 

You decide that this is your cue to leave and make your way out of the building. 

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

Oh I can also start a tag list just let me know.

XOXO Rose

[thesithdiaries]

Prisoner (Part 3; FINALE)

Set: Middle of season 1 to beginning of season 2

Pairing: (kind of) Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon female!reader, (platonic) overprotective!Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon female!reader

Warnings: typical westori violence, curse words/spoilers for both seasons but especially season 2, everyone being absolutely stupid, conversations about characters that were offed, major character death, talks of forced marriage, being made prisoner, bruises, scrapes, minor talk about weight and not eating

Plot: One of Viserys Targaryen’s final wishes was to see them married. To please him, Rhaenyra allowed her daughter to stay in the Red Keep alone, not knowing it would be a terrible mistake.

(Part 1) ; (Part 2)

“Get up!”

A rough voice boomed through the quiet chamber. You jolted awake, disoriented. As you tried to rub your eyes, you saw multiple Kingsguards entering in haste. “What’s happening?” Instead of answering, the knight grabbed your arm and dragged you out of bed. “What is the meaning of this? You’re hurting me!”

They rushed you to the Throne Room, and without a second thought, the knight pushed you, prompting you to fall to your knees, grimacing at the sting of the cold floor.

“You!” You lifted your head and saw Aegon. “This was your doing!”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking at Alicent and Otto, who stood next to Aegon. “I-I have no-”

“You killed my son,” Aegon growled, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at you. “You had him murdered in cold blood. Now I will do the same to you.”

“I would never hurt Jaehaerys,” You managed to say before Aegon took a step toward you.

“Son…” Alicent warned, noticing your appearance. Your skin was gray and lifeless, cheeks sunken, and eyes red.

“Perhaps we should let her speak,” Otto suggested, motioning for you to continue.

“I do not know what you’re talking about. I have been in my chambers all day, the one I have been locked in,” you reminded him.

“Liar. You did this as revenge because we are keeping you here.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Jasper interrupted, “the princess has not been seen leaving her chambers. There are guards in front of the door at all times.”

Deep down, Alicent knew you were innocent. You could not have done something like this.

“Take her away,” Aegon ordered the Kingsguard, annoyed. The knight grabbed your arm and pulled you up, dragging you from the room. Your whines of pain echoed through the hall.

---

“My daughter sits captive in the Red Keep. Did you consider her while you schemed for revenge?” Rhaenyra interrogated Daemon.

He sat there, rather annoyed. “Yes. Unfortunately, I could not get her myself.”

“Did you think it would be easier to rescue her while they dealt with a dead child?”

“At least I did something,” Daemon argued back. “What have you done? You left for days, searching for Luke, while she remained a prisoner in King’s Landing after you decided to leave her there, unprotected and surrounded by our enemies. Why not ask Rhaenys or Ser Erryk why they left her behind?”

Rhaenyra scoffed, “How dare you.”

“She is also my daughter,” Daemon reminded her, “and I will stop at nothing to bring her back to Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys stood outside the chambers, listening to their argument. The guilt felt asphyxiating. His brother was gone because he volunteered them as envoys. His sister was a prisoner because he did not fight hard enough to make her leave with them after dinner.

“I cannot trust you, Daemon,” he heard Rhaenyra say. “You sent two assassins to slay a child. How can I trust you with her safety?”

At that moment, Jace made a decision. He would go to King’s Landing to bring her back.

He sped through the castle, gripping the hilt of his sword. Vermax would have to stay behind if Vhagar was guarding the city; he could not risk losing his dragon. If he did, his mother’s side would lose a valuable asset, and his sister would also suffer.

Jacaerys ran down the stairs, seeing a Velaryon ship in the harbor. Surely, someone on it would help him reach King’s Landing by nightfall. He saw many knights and servants walking up the path. More allies, he thought.

A weak grip on his arm stopped him.

His heart beat erratically as he recognized the person in front of him.

“Sister,” Jace gasped, his eyes darkening at your state. “What did they do to you?” He softly caressed your cheek.

Jacaerys hastily lifted you, not entirely convinced you could walk up to the castle on your own. You laid your head on his chest, tears of relief flowing down your cheeks. You were finally home.

“Your Grace!” Elinda, Rhaenyra’s loyal handmaiden, called out. “The princess has returned.”

Rhaenyra stumbled into your chambers, seeing Maester Gerardys tending to you. “My sweet girl.”

“Mother,” you whined.

“How is she?” Daemon asked.

“There are no notable injuries, apart from a bruised arm and scraped knees. She has noticeable weight loss. I will prepare a remedy for the princess myself,” Gerardys bowed and exited in haste.

Rhaenyra made her way to the bed, sitting next to you and cradling your face. “I am so sorry.”

You closed her eyes, happy to feel your mother’s warm and soft hands. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“I wanted to return to King’s Landing,” Rhaenyra assured you. “But some things happened here, forcing me to stay.”

Jace stood at the foot of the bed, while Daemon stood next to Rhaenyra. “How did you get out of the Keep?”

“A man helped me,” you informed them, furrowing your brows.

After being forcefully taken to and from the throne room, you sat at the edge of your bed, wondering what had happened to Prince Jaehaerys.

The door burst open, startling you. “Come on, Princess. We need to hurry.”

It was a strange man, someone you hadn’t met before. “Who ar—”

“We do not have much time,” he urged. “Prince Daemon sent me. Put on this cloak.”

You perked up at the mention of your stepfather. Ignoring the ache in your bones and stomach, you got off the bed and put on the cloak.

You ran out of the living quarters, moving through hidden passages. Before you realized it, you were outside the Keep. The man stopped, not too far from the castle, to meet with someone else. “Are you sure this is her?”

“Yes. Go on, get out of the city.”

“Come, princess.”

As you reached a small boat away from the harbor, you noticed the man was carrying a sack... a leaking sack. “What is that?, you questioned him, but he did not provide an answer. “What. Is. That?”

“Nothing,” the man hissed, holding the sack tighter.

“It’s leaking,” you informed him.

“Be quiet.”

You sat on the boat next to a sailor. As the man was about to get on, Gold Cloaks stopped him. They ripped the sack from his hand and opened it. Screams echoed through the night, and swords were pointed at him.

The sailor began rowing, wanting to get some distance before they noticed who you were. The knights grabbed the man, paying no attention to the boat. Your heart sank as you realized what was in the sack.

“Was it your doing?” You asked Rhaenyra.

“It was an accident,” Daemon replied instead. “I instructed them to find Aemond, not Jaehaerys.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jace murmured, and you shook her head.

“A Kingsguard held my arm tightly when Aegon demanded to see me, that’s the reason for my bruises,” you admitted. “I was locked in my quarters. I only saw a maid and Alicent. She… she told me about Luke.”

At the Red Keep, Aemond had decided it was time to finally face his future wife. But his plan was spoiled.

You were gone.

“How did that bitch princess leave? Where was the knight in charge of her?” Aegon fumed at the continued lack of security.

Aemond, however, was furious. In a fit of rage, he destroyed everything in his path.

You were supposed to stay there, forever, with him. He regretted not having you confined in Maegor’s Holdfast.

All he wished to do was fly to Dragonstone and have Vhagar burn it to the ground. But now, he’d have to be strategic about how to get you back to his side.

[k8fics]

‘Does anyone want a Lucy Maximus throu-“

YES I DO. YES I DO. ME ME ME

Surfaced Hearts

summary: headcanon of lucy, maximus, & surface dweller!reader throuple

rating: R (?) - nsfw, the apocalypse, killing people, just fallout, fem!reader, the use of Y/N, maximus has his armor bc..hehe

- i can think of so many ways you guys could meet

- maybe you're a surface dweller who meets lucy & maximus when they stumble upon your shop

- OR maybe you're childhood friends with lucy, you guys leave the vault together, and then meet maximus later on along the way

- surface dweller!reader tho (*❦ω❦)

The sun hung low in the sky casting long shadows across the broken pavement as Lucy and Maximus approached the dilapidated storefront. Their steps were cautious, hands gripping their weapons, ears perked for any sign of danger in the eerie silence of the wasteland. As they neared the entrance, a sudden cacophony shattered the silence. Raiders faces twisted with malice, emerging from the shadows, brandishing rusted weapons and hungry eyes. Lucy's grip tightened on her pistol, while Maximus aimed his mechanical arm, gears whirring in anticipation. Suddenly, before the raiders could even position themselves for a second attack, a sudden onslaught of gunfire erupted from the shop's interior. Bullets flew through the air with deadly precision, finding their marks in the chest of the unsuspecting raiders. Stunned, all Lucy and Maximus can do is merely watch as the assailants fall one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground. Standing amidst the carnage, a figure emerged from the dust. A surface dweller, standing tall, your weapon still smoking in your hand as you surveyed the aftermath then began rummaging through the dead bodies' belongings. As you do so, you look up at the two standing beside you, "Y'all don't plan on causing any trouble like these asshats right?" Lucy and Maximus stare at each other before looking back at the scavenger, all they can do is nod.

- from that point forward, they want you SO bad

- you have would kill for them

- (and vice versa) you're is just more unhinged aggressive about their devotion

"Phew! That was a close one," Lucy gasped, her chest heaving as she cast a glance toward Maximus, her eye lingering on his rugged features. Maximus nodded, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his face. "Yeah... Hey, where's Y/N?" His gaze flickered between Lucy and the shadows of where the surface dweller once was. A few anxious moments later you emerged, your form silhouetted by the dim light of the land. Lucy and Maximus approach you, their hearts racing with a mixture of relief and concern. "Sweetie, where have you been?" Lucy's voice was soft, tinged with a hint of worry as she touched your arm. Your eyes met Lucy's, and a flicker of something unreadable fades away immediately after making eye contact with her. "And why are you covered in blood?" Maximus's voice was low, his gaze lingering on your disheveled appearance. "They're gone now," you replied cryptically, your voice barely reaching a whisper as you leaned into their touch. As the weight of your words hung in the air between them, Lucy and Maximus exchanged a glance. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they found themselves drawn to the surface dweller in ways they couldn't quite explain.

- babygirl, girlboss, and malewife

- i imagine you're a little rough around the edges considering your predicament

- but lucy and maximus soften you up :D

You've always had a hardened exterior, having learned to rely on keeping your guard up at all times. But when Lucy and Maximus entered your life, you found yourself grappling with the unfamiliar territory of trust and vulnerability. One day, as you guys were traversing the rugged terrain, you encountered Dogmeat. Your instincts kicked in immediately, muscles tensing as your eyes followed the tog warily. "Easy there, Y/N," Lucy said, her voice calm and reassuring as she approached the canine companion with outstretched hands. "He's a friend, not a foe." Maximus, with his gentle demeanor, echoed Lucy's sentiment. "Trust us, Dogmeat is as loyal as they come." You remained skeptical, "Still, I'm not sharing my food with the mutt." You grumbled, Lucy and Maximus exchanged knowing glances. After less than a week, Dogmeat stood by your side as you cooked the meat you had just scavenged, the canine getting pieces here and there from the surface dweller.

- you love gifting them things

like when lucy mentioned that she missed watching old westerns in her vault, you're immediately searching for the best copies and a working television

- maximus's love language is definitely words of affirmation and acts of service

- he's a sucker for verbal expressions of love and appreciation

- but he actually goes weak to the knees (like on the ground, begging, clinging onto you and lucy's legs) when it comes to acts of service

- like helping him repair one of his arms and he's just shaking and blushing

- or scavenging for oysters just to gift it to him, he's purring and surrounds you

- lucy's is so physical touch

- sometimes, when you guys can find clean water, you and maximus take a bath or shower with her and it's her favorite thing ever

- babygirl asf

- imagine lucy teaching you and maximus different self-care practices

Lucy grinned, her expression filled with excitement as she gestured toward the jar in her hand. "We're going to start with something simple: exfoliation." You and Maximus exchanged a puzzled glance before turning their attention back to Lucy, who wasted no time demonstrating the proper techniques. With gentle motions, she applied the scrub to her skin, massaging with care. "And that's how you exfoliate!" Lucy declared, her skin glowing with newfound radiance. While all you could do is stare in horniness amazement with your mouth open, Maximus scratched his head, a look of confusion across his face. "...But why?" he asked, only to be met with a punch on the arm by the surface dweller.

- honestly, i feel like you guys don't even talk about being a couple or anything, it just happened over time

- like a few subtle touches and stolen glances over time turns into staring lovingly into the eyes of each other and .........

tiny nsfw

- "intercourse?"

- just a room full of switches

- you're on top most of the time tho

- maximus is a giver all the way

- bro's mouth is always full

- lucy is a pillow princess and you cannot change my mind

- and very vocal

- maximus likes to watch you and lucy

- the cuck chair lives past the apocalypse!!!

- he's mostly quiet with the occasional praises, telling you to keep going, that you're doing so well, that you make him and/or lucy feel so good

- it's like he's taking notes

- "you wanna make my cock explode now?"

anyways! back to the planned program

- lucy does your hair most of the time

- the first time she suggested it she asked for you to find a hairbrush so that she could "fix up our hair"

- you immediately jumped up to rummage around for that old hairbrush in that one file cabinet

- so now she does your hair most mornings while maximus makes or scavenges for some form of breakfast

- for some reason, i feel like maximus knows how to play cards

- and i just know it would be lucy's favorite pass times

"oh! can we play that card game you taught us, maxie?"

- do you guys think lucy and maximus would have nicknames for each other?

- like lucy calls him 'max' and/or 'maxie' (maxi? maxy?) and maximus calls lucy 'luce' (EEEE)

- you and maximus LOVE the way lucy smells tho

- i know it's weird but imagine always being surrounded by the most putrid stenches and here comes this beautiful, very clean lady comes along

- it can't be helped

"what are you guys doing?" "nothin" "you always smell like roses"

-

hope you enjoyed! lmk if anyone wants more lucy x max throuple fics, i can make a longer fic going into more depth. thank you!!

[thinkinonsense]

Magnetic ──★ Logan Howlett x fem!oc: Chapter Three

╰┈➤Summary: After years of torture, Daphne decides how she wants to spend the rest of her life; at the bottom of a lake. Out of nowhere, Logan pulls Daphne from the water and finds her help. Now they must navigate how to live with their decisions.

╰┈➤C/W: mentions of death, suicide, cursing, age gap, mild violence, issues with infertility, slight sexual themes, description of a starved body

ᯓ★ mdni.ᐟ

ᯓ★word count: 1.9k+

ᯓ★ spotify playlist here

ᯓ★ last chapter here

ᯓ★next chapter here

✮⋆˙ In the early morning hours Logan found Charles heading to the subbasement to use Cerebro. He didn't even pretend to not be following the man in the wheelchair. When the doors finally close, Charles acknowledges him.

"Are you sure you want to be in here?" Charles asks. Logan ignores his question entirely.

"What are you doin'?"

"You'll see."

As Charles places the helmet on his head, Logan wonders if he wants to be in here too. Soon enough, images begin to flood the space around them. There is a glass cage with someone inside of it. A woman in a lab coat approaches the glass, squatting down, and tapping carefully.

"Mister Bellinor wants to see you." The woman says.

The person in the cage comes into view; it's Daphne.

There are lavender circles around her eyes from lack of sleep. Her hair is long and unkept, almost hitting her lower back. She looks so tiny; underfed with her bones visible through the skin. Her face barely had any color to it. It made Logan feel sick to his stomach.

Daphne's shackled at her hands and ankles as she and the woman walk down a long hallway. A guard at the door gives Daphne a look of sympathy as he opens the door for them. The two women enter and see a swarm of men talking and drinking among themselves.

"There she is, gentlemen!" A dark-haired man smiles when his eyes land on Daphne. He must be Mister Bellinor, Logan thought.

She stares blankly at him as he wraps one arm around her waist while his other hand grips her chin; squeezing her cheeks into a pout. "That's my pretty weapon."

The men around them nod their heads, gawking at her despite how sickly she looked. Bellinor wraps an arm around Daphne, forcing her to sit in his lap. A few minutes of chatter continues before one of the men says a pretty girl like her couldn't be that scary. Bellinor laughs and then pats her behind so she stands up.

"Oh, you'll regret that one, buddy," Bellinor says, leaning back in his chair, cockily. "Go on, Siren. Give 'em hell."

Daphne's eyes glow darker than Logan had seen before. They looked blood red as she settled her gaze on the target. Within seconds, the man clutches his chest, yelling out in pain.

"She's a w-w-witch!" He struggles to get out as he falls to his knees in front of her. "M-Make her... s-stop!"

Bellinor laughs and lets it continue for another few seconds to get the point across. Everyone else in the room was dead silent, terrified. Eventually, Bellinor tells Daphne to stop; but she doesn't. She isn't moving; it's like she's in a trance.

"Stop it, Daphne!" Bellinor yells repeatedly, getting up to stop her; but it's too late.

Without warning, the other man's heart breaks out of his chest, flying into Daphne's open palm. It snaps her back into reality. She looks down at the bloody organ in her hand and then at the dead man hunched over on the ground with his eyes rolled back into his head. Her hands begin to shake in terror of her own actions; dropping the heart quickly, letting it splat on the ground at her feet.

"Take her back to her cell!" Bellinor yells at the guards. "Use the electroshock!"

"I'm s-sorry!" She cries. "Please! Don't!"

Her loud sobs echo in Logan's head, making him want to turn away. Tears roll down Daphne's cheeks while her bloody hands attempt to put up a fight with the two men who roughly pulled her back into the cell.

The woman returns and hooks Daphne into a chair; shocking her until she's slumped over unconscious. One of the guards pulls her out of the chair and lays her body down on the concrete floor. Alone.

The image fades out, leaving Charles and Logan in silence.

"Why didn't she kill Bellinor?" Logan immediately asks while Charles removes the helmet.

"She didn't know was able to kill a person," Charles says, wheeling around to look at Logan. "Let alone two."

Logan's thoughts ran wild with all this new information. Charles felt his headache while trying to catch up with Logan's thoughts.

Who was Bellinor?

How was he connected to Daphne?

Where was he currently?

Because right now, Logan wanted nothing more than to watch the life leave his eyes as one of his claws stabbed through his throat.

"Don't bother, Logan," Charles comments, rolling past him. "Not even I can find him. He's somewhere hiding from her now that she's free."

"Just not looking hard enough." Logan snarls.

Charles can see what Logan is plotting in his mind.

"Logan, trying to find him won't make her feel better."

"Maybe not... but it sure as hell will make me feel better."

──★

11:00 am

Long showers were a luxury to Daphne. Private showers were even more so. She knew she had to take advantage of it while she was here. Her forehead rested on the wall under the shower head; allowing the warm water to run down her back.

Daphne didn't mind being left alone. Actually, she preferred it. Not because she didn't enjoy having company but because not all company was good to be around.

It was almost noon when she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a gray towel around herself. Jean gave her a pair of faded blue jeans and a forest green long-sleeve shirt. Daphne figured today was the best day to get her belongings from the cabin.

"Where are you headed, dear?" Charles asks.

Daphne spins around and spots the man following her to the main doors.

"I was going to go collect my belongings from my cabin." She said.

"Hm..." He hummed, thinking for a second. "I'm sure Storm wouldn't mind joining you. It's a dangerous time to be alone as a mutant."

On queue, Storm walks by them. She smiled, hearing the professor's invitation.

"I would love to join you," Storm said, grabbing her jacket off the hook.

Daphne wasn't upset with the sudden intrusion on her plans. She knew they wouldn't let her return to the area alone. Honestly, she's not sure she would even trust herself there alone.

The two women take one of the cars into the woods. Storm offers to drive while Daphne gives her directions. The ride was forty-five minutes out, it gave Storm plenty of time to get to know Daphne.

"When did you move out here?" Storm asks, attempting to make small talk.

"Couple months ago," Daphne answers. "A woman in town sold it to me shortly after I escaped."

"Jean mentioned the laboratory..." Storm's words drifted off while trying to figure out how to approach the subject. "You were so young."

"I didn't mean the lab," Daphne says. "But yes, they raised me there until seventeen."

"Where did you go after that?"

"Another cell, different captore."

Daphne's never told anyone what she has been through; mostly because she didn't know many people.

"Do you know who they were?" Storm asks.

"His name was Mister Bellinor," The words tasted like metal in her mouth. "He broke me out of the lab and trained me. Taught me how to be a monster."

Before Storm could say something back to Daphne, they had arrived. It was small; one bedroom, a bath, and a connected kitchen and living room. Storm didn't see much for Daphne to pack. There wasn't much of anything. She had four shirts and two pairs of jeans. Storm didn't know why she needed to come back for it. That was before she felt a black cat rub itself against her ankles.

"Who is this cutie?" Storm asks, bending down to pet it.

"That's Juna," Daphne calls from the bedroom. "She's a stray. I hope there isn't a no-pets policy in the mansion."

Storm picks up the cat and walks into the bedroom. Daphne was using her powers to bring her toiletries into the room too.

"I don't think Charles has ever turned away a stray." Storm smiles.

──★

Jean and Scott were sitting in the kitchen when Logan entered the room. He spots Jean immediately and goes over to her.

"Hey, I need a favor," Logan says to her.

Jean's eyes widen slightly at his request. Scott inches closer to her and interrupts them.

"With what?"

Logan turns to him, glaring, "I wasn't asking for your help."

Jean steps in to say, "Of course, Logan. What do you need?"

"I need help tracking someone down."

Scott scoffs dramatically. "Can't you ask someone else? Preferably the woman you just fished out of the lake a few days ago?"

Logan's claws extended, breaking the skin of his knuckles at the way Scott refers to Daphne.

"Logan!" Jean scolds when she sees the adamantium claws. "How about we talk outside?"

Logan nods but Scott beats them both to the door.

"No, allow me!" He says before turning away.

Jean pinches the bridge of her nose at their immaturity. Logan's claws retract back into his body as he apologizes under his breath.

"Who are you trying to find?"

"Not quite sure. All I know is that his last name is Bellinor and that he held Daphne captive. Charles won't tell me anything more."

Jean thinks for a moment then looks up at Logan.

"What exactly do you want me to do...?"

"Besides Charles, you are the only person that can use Cerebro-"

"This doesn't sound like a good idea, Logan," Jean says, shaking her head. "Her past is her past."

"I know," He huffs. "But you didn't see her past. I did, and God, it was... it was fucking brutal."

Logan allows Jean to invade his mind, to let her see what he saw. He watches Jean's face contort uncomfortably at the visions. When she sees the heart fly into Daphne's hand, Jean flinches away from Logan; trying to escape his thoughts. He gives her a moment before softly reaching for her wrists.

"Please, Jean..." Logan says in a tone that she's never heard from him. He must really care, Jean thinks to herself.

"I'll do it."

──★

"I hope it's okay, that I brought Juna back with me," Daphne says to Charles, assuming that's the reason why he called her into his office.

He chuckles at the image of her and the black cat clinging to her, "I don't mind, Daphne."

"Oh okay," She squints at him, confused. "Can I ask why you called me in here exactly?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

"And that would be?"

"Would you join the X-Men?"

The question catches her off guard; making her hesitant to answer him.

"I believe you have the power to be a vital part of the team," Charles says, warming her up to the idea.

"I-I um, I don't think you need someone like me."

"Someone like...?"

"A monster," Daphne explains, eyes leveled with the floor. "I don't want to be the monster that they made me."

"Daphne," Charles says rather slowly so she fully grasps what he means. "You're only what you believe you are; not what they told you to be."

Those words strike her like a bullet ricocheting through her chest. Life wasn't getting easier for mutants. Perhaps this was what she was meant to do with her gifts; but did she deserve a second chance? What if her curse spreads? What if she can't control herself? Did they really want her of all people? Could she afford to start over again? Only time could tell.

"It would be an honor."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags: @bethexo07 @borapsycho @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @aylawylie @marcybug

if you want to be tagged for future chapters of Magnetic, reply and let me know <3

[brailsthesmolgurl]

CHASTENED

The Foreseer was only tasked with one job, to be the guardian of the Creation Protocore under Astra's rule. Men of all walks of life, all kinds of statuses tried to get close to the Creatio Protocore only to deeply regret their decisions. But how about a young lass at the verge of death with a motive to steal the eminent gem takes on the impossible challenge?

Warnings: Angst, Extreme Pain, Character Death, Blood and Gore, consideration of a part two soon. Spoiler towards Zayne's lore.

Y/N pulled her coat tighter over herself, the huge bundle of animal fur still not effective against the harsh gales of the region. Her lips were severely chapped, if she were to lick them at any point, she might either end up with her tongue stuck to her lips for the remainder of the journey, or else she would have a bleeding issue. None of the options on the table present a feasible method.

The tower sprouted from below the hills, the achromatic slates of the gray towers stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the span of white snows. The sight of the towers a reminder to her that she just needs to hang on a bit longer to get to her destination. The closer she reaches the towers, the smaller she felt as compared to the towering structure.

She stood at the doors that could easily fit a snow giant and looked at the scriptures carved onto the heavy doors. '𝕿𝖔 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖔𝖗𝖘, 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖞. 𝕿𝖔 𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖗, 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖕𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊, 𝖙𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖗. 𝕿𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖆 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖞, 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖆𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖋 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖑.'

Pulling off layers and layers of animal fur, she revealed her uniform underneath, a chain mail clad to her small stature, with a layer of thick yet fine leather draped above a gown of woven silk. The emblem of the castle she hailed from sewn onto the front and back of her leather armour. You see, this trick of hers would cost her kingdom a great fortune as every century, the King would send his troops out to the Towers of Thorns to receive a prophecy for the next coming century.

It has been a tradition since the first formation of the kingdom. However, y/n had travelled regions beyond one's imagination, to get an answer for her cure. However, all answers lead back to the towers she is currently entering into. There was a small door which is of the size of a mundane. She pushed the door and it creaked open, heavy iron scraped against the snow covered grounds. The snow becoming a good lubricant for the cracks that grew deeper into the floors.

She managed to squeeze into the small opening and was met with a huge hall, tall ceilings held up by pillars made of solid mortar. A highly sought after material for her nation, to build their own castles and for the symbol of wealth. Mortars were shipped in by boats from lands afar but coming across it is entirely rare. Chandeliers made of soft rime hung from the high ceilings, with the purpose to capture the moonlight at night and to provide what little lighting the hall already has.

The hall would have easily been mistaken to be a ballroom hall, if it was not so dead and cold. Literally dead and cold. Y/n figured if there were a bit more decorations; such as extravagant paintings, sculptures and better lighting, this place could easily surpass all of the other ballroom halls she had ever attended. She walked towards the end of the ballroom hall, a huge and wide flight of stairs welcomed within her sight.

Up to the second floor, the floor had transitioned from tiled marble to stone made out of the hands of a very talented stonemason, given its adjacent patterns. The halls presented on both side were long and seemingly endless, with only four doors occupying on each of the sides. She will have to figure out eventually which room leads to the Foreseer.

She came to the last door, disappointment slowly etched onto her face as she have only been greeted with nothing but empty rooms. She actually wondered for a moment if she had ended up in an abandoned castle. The last door opened with a slight creak to its hinges and she saw a spiral staircase leading upwards. Off she went, feet stepping onto the steps carefully as they are quite steep.

She came across another room, a larger one this time, but not as big as the ballroom hall she had first entered. Windows aligned the room, a sight she has been missing out for a bit when she was exploring downstairs. The middle sat a man, eyes closed as if he was resting, with a large sceptre in his hand and the Creatio Protocore floating within it.

That is the Foreseer. Her mind spoke out as she slowly approached the man in slumber. She had only heard of stories of the Foreseer, but she had never known that he was this handsome? This could explain why troops that were dispatched to this tower refused to reveal the looks of Foreseer. It was clear jealousy brewed within those men, if they were to describe the Foreseer as how y/n is admiring his features, the troops would not be scoring any women anytime soon and this castle could and would be swarmed by females.

The Foreseer's skin was pale, akin to the snow that surrounds the tower, but his raven hair a contrast to his complexion. He adorned a dark blue outfit, that carries an iridescence of silver, a subtle match to his silver accessories that were embroidered onto the ends of his long coat and sleeves. His hands were hidden under a pair of gloves just as black as his hair and he was sat in his throne. Or more like chained down to it.

Eyeing the Creatio Protocore, y/n thinks it would be the best timing to grab the protocore now while he was still sound asleep. She reached her hand out to inch closer to the sceptre, but when she is close enough, the Foreseer's eyes opened and he turned his head to look at her. She clumsily fell, startled by his sudden wake. "What do you think you are doing mortal?" The Foreseer's voice was surprisingly low, no hints of grogginess despite him just waking up.

"I represent the troops from the land nearby to receive the prophecy for the next centenary. I would wish to know it so that I may bring the destiny back to my people." She lied, pushing herself off of the cold floor. The back of her gown now stained wet but she could care less.

"The tradition has been banished I see." The Foreseer slowly blinked his eyes, to wake himself up better and took in a deep breath. "You are not here for your people. But it is for your own." His eyes snapped towards her, deep forest greens darkened.

"I...I..." She hesitated, eyes darting everywhere when she tried to come up with a valid explanation for what she was trying to do earlier. "I need the Creatio Protocore, in order to cure my heart that is dying of a reason that nobody could elucidate."

The chains wrapped around the Foreseer emitted a faint glow and she watched them disappeared off of his body, except for his thorax. The chains on his torso were pointy but it rested comfortably on him, with every breath it takes, the chains expanded and contracted accordingly. "It is very assumptive of you to think I would give it to you, just because you asked nicely. What a fool you could be." He remained seated on his throne. "Many men who stepped foot in here with reasons and excuses similar to yours ends up getting deprived of their existence. Should you wish for the same ending as them?"

"No. Please no." She begged, getting onto her knees this time. "Please do not kill me. I will do anything. But please do not kill me."

"Even if I do not, your heart shall anyways." He acknowledged, beckoning her to her feet. "As punishment, you shall remain in this tower to serve me through the end of your days." His voice and facial expressions are alike, stoic. "Should you try to leave, I shall not show you any mercy as how I have dealt with the previous trespassers."

"Where are we going?" Y/n asked, speeding up her footsteps behind the raven haired man. The man had woken her up, provided her with a few pieces of rye bread and here they are, walking up a stair well that goes up in a spiral. The rye bread she had yet to finish still in her hands. She was worried she might get motion sickness and waste what had already went down her throat. The Foreseer remained silent, footsteps steady on every step. A candlestick within his grasp, illuminating the steps ahead.

A thud followed by a creak was heard and sunlight poured in. Both of them had arrived to a roof top. Not being a lover for low temperatures, the warmth of the sunlight made her sighed in enjoyment. "Come here." The Foreseer called out to her and she went towards him, towards the stone barrier. Her eyes widened when she took in the view of the snowy mountains in the far distance, the snow had came to a halt, leaving white traces over the whole span of land ahead, with occasional barren stalks of trees reminding her the consequences of the harsh winter. She never knew she could find beauty within a sea of pristine white.

"This shall be your punishment." He pointed towards a small pot on top of the stone barrier, a single bud remained unbloomed. "Bloom this plant and your punishment shall be voided and you shall regain freedom." Y/N raise her head to meet his gaze, blinking in confusion.

"The weather is so cold here, I don't think it will be able to bloom under such harsh conditions." His never-changing expressions made her gulped. "Nevertheless, I would give it my all." Her surrendering stance made him huffed in approval. "So do you come up here often?"

"Making small talk I see." He turned to face the view. "Casual notes will not lessen your punishment."

"I know for sure it would make our accompaniment more pleasant." Her bravery got commended when the man eyed her for a second. "I certainly do not wish to spend the last of my days talking to a wall or a flower when I acknowledge the existence of another person within the same confinement as me."

"I come up here whenever I want to see the view, or to be under the sun." He replied.

She pointed towards the bud in the pot. "How and where did you obtained that because it will practically be impossible for you to find that out in the cold here."

"Someone gifted this to me and this is not an ordinary flower." His gloved hand traced the clay pot that holds the bud in place. "I was told it could bloom even in the harshest of winters. So, ensuring the flower to bloom shall be your expertise."

A series of shrill chirps pierced through the silence and both of them looked up in sync. The man looked relaxed while poor y/n looked like she was about to witness god herself, although she is already in the vicinity of one. "What is that sound?" Her hands were halfway lifted up, next to her ears, getting ready to cover either her head or ears, depending on what happens next and whether it would involve her head or ears. "I have never heard of such sounds!"

The chirps are continuous, leading her to cover her ears with her small hands. A gust of wind hit her head and down came a bird-like creature, about the size of a hawk. The bird-like creature is almost-crystal like, coated in a silverish blue from head to toe, body texture a close resemblance to crystal glass on chandeliers. It's raptorial claws beats the impression of it being a fragile bird. "This is an Arcticyon, they pass by here whenever they migrate. Alas, that was eons ago." His look resembled a quaint longingness, staring at the bird.

"I suppose being in the cold, all the way out here, away from civilisation, things get pretty lonesome." His cold gaze returning and the bird rejoiced with it's flock in the skies, a moving blue cloud then proceeds towards the opposite direction it came from.

"You are not here to study my behaviour. Your curiosity almost led to your own demise." His cruel reminder made her wished she never said anything earlier on.

After a couple of days, the daily routine of caring for the bud got emblazoned into her head. She was assigned to a room which has all of the amenities she needed to keep herself alive and entertained. That includes having her own clothes, food sources and bathroom. She assumed all of which are a part of gifts from the royals who came to visit.

She got out of bed at the crack of dawn, the sun peeking over the horizon of one of the mountains in the far distance provided a normal circadian rhythm for her. Time is not a limitation here for her, she is free to explore within the towers. Visiting the Foreseer is out of the question for her. She lit up a candle and started climbing her way up to the top of the tower, speeding up her footsteps just so she could catch sight of the early sunrise. It is an unspoken competition now.

When she arrived to the top, the Foreseer had already beaten her to it. Not that he had ever been a part of this 'competition' of hers but she did not expected him to be up here this early. "Good morning---" Her right arm violently jerked and she gasped in surprise, the candle falling from her hand and onto the snowy ground, instantly getting extinguished. Hands were tightly pressed to her chest, screams muffled with her biting down harshly onto her lips. Tears welled up in her eye sockets almost instantly.

The Foreseer approached her, watching her closely as she faltered to the snowy grounds. He said nothing, but stood next to her figure within reaching distance, awaiting for her next move. Her gloved arm make it hard for him to assess where is her actual pain spot. Her twitching slowed and he took a step back, to give her some personal space till he noticed something falling from her face, wetting the grounds beneath. She is crying.

He was about to take a step closer but she pushed herself off of the floor, head remained facing downwards and muttered under her breath, fleeting misty clouds formed when she spoke. "Good morning, I will go ahead to water the bud now." She took her time to walk over towards the edge of the rooftop and there sat the pot, with the bud already at the verge of blooming. She surely have a good pair of green fingers, just like what the Foreseer had suspected.

The Foreseer could see why she needed the Creatio Protocore now. Her weakness hails from her once in a lifetime disease, Cryotasis. This disease only occurs to people whom are born to be Astra's nemesis. The God inflicting this upon the chosen one a sign of a cruel punishment, and nothing could heal them other than the Creatio Protocore. Throughout centurions, the Foreseer had witnessed only a handful of Cryotasis victims, mostly wanting to get the protocore so that they could heal themselves, but of course, the Foreseer would never succumb to the greed of a mundane. But now, she is the tainted individual, cursed with the touch of a God.

"Are you alright?" He could not stop those words from rolling off of the tip of his tongue. It was certainly very rare for him to ask someone about their condition, not that he ever thought about caring either. He is incapable of sensing emotions or resonating with them but with her, she makes him feel things that he had never felt before. It is a new sensation for him, so maybe that is why he thought it was only right for him to ask if she was okay.

"Yeah I am used to it by now." And he saw a reflection of him, a fraction of him in her. How she holds back her pain and diverts her attention to something else to suppress her mind. Whenever he felt lonely, he too, would divert himself from having to feel the loneliness creeping in. Her words of dismissal made the man leave her to her own desolation. When the Foreseer had went down the steps, she lifted her sleeve up, the blue veins stuck out like a sore thumb against her pale skintone, imprints of webbed and black snowflakes emblazoned on her skin, cold to the touch, even colder than the winter she is currently in if that makes any sense at all.

She ran her fingers over it, but it did not hurt, she only felt the scars raked across the pads of her fingers, but her affected arm did felt numb and stiff. The young maiden stood up, leaving the watering can by the side of the potted plant and she proceeded to head downstairs so she could layer on an extra coat. Upon arriving at her room, her wooden door was slightly ajar and she saw the man sat on the plush chair inside of her room, a book held up to his face and his legs crossed comfortably. "Come in."

"I never thought I would be able to see you read." She commented, slotting herself into the adequately sized room. The Foreseer paused momentarily, book lowered and his icy stare pierced through her, just like his following sentence.

"First, you asked me about being on the roof and now you are mocking me about my habits." Although she never had that intention to mock him but she could tell he does not like sharing anything about himself. He is a lone man locked in a tower afterall, the act of sharing would practically be impossible. "I may be a deity who has responsibilities, but this does not defer me from my hobbies." Tapping the hard cover of the book, she took a seat on the edge of her bed, trying to initiate more conversations and the day went by, with them both exchanging conversations. More like her asking him questions and him replying in impermanent statements.

But two weeks had passed, with her being reluctant to leave now. Be it her wounds are getting more and more severe, the cryotasis on her arms had gotten so severe that she had limited movement for her thumbs, sometimes not being able to bend it to pick things up or to hold things. The nights she had spent rolled up in bed, enduring the excruciating pain littered all over her arm. Stygian veins now a replacement of her previous symptom and she strongly believe that she is rotting from the inside out.

The knock on her door woke her up, eyes snapped open. “May I let myself in?” The voice of the only man she had been acquainted with for the past two weeks came through the other side of the wooden obstacle at the entrance.

“Yes you may.” She could not hide the weakness in her voice. The door then opened up, revealing The Foreseer in his usual outfit but without the blue coat this time around. He claimed that his coat resembles nothing more than an accessory and she remembered teasing him about accessorising himself even though he does not even have any visitors on a daily basis. His retort was witty, turning the table she had set against herself, emphasising that if it was not for him, she would have been stuck in the clothes she had originally worn and the amount of methane gas buildup on her would have made the Foreseer kicked her out of the tower.

He stood still at the entryway, lips slightly parted as his eyes traced the maiden in front of him, from top to bottom. Her cheeks flushed at the way she was being stared at. This is the very first time the deity had looked at her so tediously. “We need to get you to the hall downstairs.” His feet hurried across the floor and he scooped her up into his arms, her squeaking in response to his sudden actions. Till she realised that she no longer felt like she had a pair of legs. Her thoughts of the Foreseer wanting to make a move on her immediately got diminished. She is now in her late stages and there is nothing she could do. Nor would she want to do anything about it. She realised throughout these past weeks, she had fell for the man, the deity himself who showed her no signs of interest other than entertaining her questions with one-worded sentences.

She was pretty certain that she has a one-sided affection towards the man holding her now. His footsteps are hurried, the sound of his shoes thumping against the tiled floors echoed through the long hallways. As she was about to say something, another series of pain struck her and she arched her back involuntarily, wailing in pain. The man laid her down onto the floor instantaneously and he held her torso up to keep her from breaking her back. She did not know that this man, the deity himself reciprocates the same feeling towards her. This only took him a week to finally come to a conclusion to the ache in his heart. He ached for her belongingness, her company, her smile, her curiosity; he is in love with her.

The eyes of the deity burnished into flames of gold and the sceptre that houses the Creatio Protocore formed in mid air and landed into the hands of the Foreseer. She had regained her breathing, still panting heavily with tears slowly forming icicles on her pale stricken face. The linings of black veins now climbing upwards like vile vines towards her neckline, peeking out from the collars of her night gown. The parasitic nature of the curse now taking its full course on her. “The Creatio Protocore will heal you.” The deity looked at her and for the first time, she could notice emotions within his gaze. “For that, I shall give it to you.”

“No you can’t, you can’t do it.” She used every last bit of strength she had left in her body to push herself up, watching the deity kneeling on one of his knees, statued right in front of her. “You will lose your life.” He had explained to her the sole purpose of his being and presence within this world. He is only here, as his name suggests, as a tool of Astra, as a Foreseer of men. His duty held him back from having to step out of the premises of the towers and that he is strictly forbidden to foresee his own future. She called it an irony, but he called it his responsibility. “Don’t do this for me. You know how important you are to us, to everyone who looks up to you.”

The maiden staggered and he caught her by her waist, pulling her closer to him effortlessly. “What a fool of you to come up with that, through my own will, I shall be losing my sole purpose of living to someone of significant importance to me.” He ran his fingers through her hair, his touch warm and gentle, unlike what she had expected, including this intimate moment between the both of them. His willingness to kill himself just to save her received an immediate rejection from her but it fell upon deaf ears as the deity remained stubborn with his decision. “With this, I bequeath my Protocore to you. So you are to be set free from Astra’s curse.”

The sceptre emitted a blinding light, a high pitched screech came along with it and the both of them closed their eyes together. She hung onto his coat as blustery winds engulfed them, a pathetic attempt to try and separate the both of them. The Foreseer’s grip tightened on her waist, pulling her closer to him till her face caved into his neck. Once the gale had stopped, she pulled back from his embrace and she sat up hurriedly, eyes bearing concern as her sobs jerked her back to reality. The physical pain of hers disappeared but not applied to her faint heart as she watched his skin take on the shade of cement, grey and tough-looking. He is solidifying, a common telltale sign of deities dying before they fade into dust. “No. No. NO!” Her screams elevated with every word, hands coming up to cup his face, his eyes meeting hers directly. Orbs of hazel brown and deep green held emotions that meant the world to her at this moment. “Please no.”

The man pulled one side of his lips upwards, a crooked smile landed its way on his face and he spoke what was seemingly his last sentence. “I hope in the next life, we shall never cross paths again as I shall always pick you over anything else.” He let out a soft chuckle, already accepting the fate of him dying. “I love you.” He then leaned in, sealing their lips together for the first and last kiss before his body fully solidified and she was kissing nothing more than a statue. She did not even got a chance to tell him about how she felt.

She was caught up in an emotional turmoil, losing him after a confession was the worst ending she could hope for. But the blinding light behind her lover made her covered her eyes. Uncovering her vision, she noticed a lady had appeared from the source of light, adorned in gold that could build a whole empire, her olive skin a compliment to her outfit. She matched the description of Astra, with aura that immediately establishes tension within the whole hall and with eyes the shade of the iridescence of the sun, sometimes yellow and sometimes orange. Tutting both in disappointment and strong indignation, the deity stood in front of the couple, her height towered over the late deity whom kneeled in front of her. “Betrayal is what I caught on I suppose.” Her voice booming, reverberating through the hall. “A mere sign of affection towards a mundane cost him his life. What a blot on one’s escutcheon.” Although she was talking to herself, her statement indirectly suggested towards the maiden bawling on the floor.

“Now.” The deity continued, proceeding towards the mundane. “A tool I shall make of you. I hope you shall not be a replica of such a failure.” Snapping her finger, the maiden cried out as she too, experience the same fate of solidifying, just like the deity she had fell in love with. The both of them then sat as a centrepiece in the grand hall. One wore the expression of acceptance while another the opposite of it. Astra smirked, determined to make them suffer as the jasmine on the rooftop bloomed exuberantly, marking the memory of the man coming to an end and soon to be renewed in his next life.

Another deity series started and ofc, this shall take course just like how the Rafayel series did, so stay tuned for more angst my loves <3

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 9:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy, hurt feelings, tiny bit of sexual tension

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

The flight back to Ord Mantell was silent. Hunter sat stiffly in the cockpit after checking on Omega. The rest of the team sat in silence under the dimmed lights.

The situation played over and over again through his brain.

Omega dropping from the vents alone. Without you. It was so hard to dispel the fear that flooded his veins like ice water.

Were you hurt? Captured? Dead!?

Then you’d entered the room with that staff, that blaster bolt so narrowly missing your head.

Why was it so important to grab that staff? Why risk your own life and Omega’s just for a few lousy credits.

I thought I knew her better than that.

Then there was that all-consuming guilt-laced horror when the pair of you fought the guards so viciously and he could do nothing but watch. Powerless. Afraid. Angry at the smugglers. Angry at you for being so reckless. Angry at himself for being able to do nothing but watch it happen.

---

The others seemed to know better than to bother Hunter right now, but you had to know why he was so upset.

Part of you knew it was you - your reckless plan that could’ve gone wrong in so many different ways.

But how was it any different from one of his plans that always seemed to turn to chaos? That tiny thought voiced defiantly, only serving to fuel the anger and frustration that boiled through your veins.

Against your better judgment you strode into the cockpit.

“Hunter, I…” you stopped as he held up a firm hand.

“Go sit down, we’re about to land. We’ll talk about this later.”

No, I want to talk about this now! The impatience rattled around inside, barely able to be contained.

“But…”

“Now.” He commanded, pointing to the seats. “I’m giving you an order, try not to disobey this one too.” His words were sharp and impossible to argue against.

“Yes sir.” You answered harshly, matching his tone.

There wasn’t much discussion upon landing, either. Nor was there any argument when Wrecker and Omega took off to celebrate their Mantell Mix tradition.

Echo and Tech disappeared soon after. The bitter taste in your mouth festered as you watched Cid carefully place the staff in her back room. You stood and walked out of the parlor.

We got the staff, we got paid, and nobody got hurt. It sounded fine to you. In fact, it sounded like success, yet you couldn’t shake that growing hurt of disappointment and shame.

That should’ve been enough. I should’ve been enough. Maybe I could’ve done more. Maybe I should’ve done less.

But the reality of it all only served to solidify the nagging knowledge that you really didn’t belong here.

Sighing, you walked faster down the street away from the figure you knew was following you.

"What the hell was that!?" Hunter growled from behind you as you stalked back to the Marauder. Clenching your jaw, you purposely ignored him, just wanting to shower, grab some food and forget about the whole thing. You were starving and could definitely use a good long nap.

“Hey!” Hunter grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him. “No. You don’t get to ignore me when you nearly got Omega and the rest of this squad killed!”

You jerked your arm free with a huff which just seemed to aggravate him further. “Omega is fine.” you snapped. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to her. I got the job done. You got paid. What more do you want from me!? You wanna hold hands and talk about our feelings?”

Heavy, angry breaths forced themselves from your heaving chest. You were fully aware that Hunter could easily hear how quickly your pulse thundered in your ears without a chance to easily reign it back.

“I gave you a direct order and you disobeyed it!” he snapped.

You scoffed, “You all do it all the kriffing time! I don’t see you shouting at Omega when she plays by her own rules! So what’s so different when I do it!? Huh?”

Hunter was silent. You could feel the anger simmering beneath his skin. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, sounding more like a groan of frustration. "For once in your life would it kill you to use your damn head!? You almost got yourself killed out there, and I…!” He stopped himself.

“What do you care?” You spit venomously, spinning around to face him again. “According to you lot I’m just a ‘useful asset’!”

“What?” Hunter ran a hand through his hair, visibly confused.

You took a breath. “I heard you talking to Tech!”

A look of realization began to appear on his face as you looked down. “That's not - “

“No!” You interrupted angrily. “You think I'm reckless and irritable and only useful when you need me.”

“No! I didn't mean it like that. I was - “

You held up a hand to stop him. “It's fine, Hunter.” You said coldly. “At least I know my place now so thank you for bringing that to my attention.”

“But I…” Hunter stuttered, looking completely bewildered.

“Stop.” You commanded. “I said it's fine. It hurt, but I forgive you. Everything's fine.”

He could only watch as you stormed down the ramp, leaving him in a cold silence as it hissed closed behind you.

He sat unmoving for what seemed like hours.

The hatch opened again after a few minutes and for a brief second, Hunter felt his heart race raising a hopeful gaze as the ramp slid down but it was only Wrecker clamoring up the ramp with a crate of thermal detonators. He set them down and raised an eyebrow sticking a thumb out behind him towards the open door. “What’s with her?”

Hunter sighed, “Don’t ask.” Shoulders slumped, he turned and headed into the cockpit. Maybe he could convince Tech to let him help with one of his projects. He could use the distraction.

Tech glanced up as Hunter all but fell into an empty chair. He raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?”

“She heard us talking the other night,” said Hunter.

A look of confusion flashed across his face for a split second before quickly realizing what his brother was referring to. “Oh!” Tech looked up, “So then, I assume she now knows how you feel, and judging from your facial expression and closed off body language, she does not reciprocate those feelings.” Tech paused and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry.”

Hunter shook his head. “No, she only happened to hear you say that she’s a ‘useful asset’!” He glared at his brother as though to blame him for the entire misunderstanding.

“Ah..” Tech put a finger to his chin in thought. “That is most unfortunate.”

Hunter slumped lower in his seat. “Yep… and what’s worse is that she heard me agree with you and now she thinks that’s how we all feel about her.”

“But that was only a small sample of our conversation and very much taken out of context. If she had stayed and listened a bit longer she would have realized this.”

“Well she didn’t, and now she thinks I hate her.”

Tech frowned. “Per our conversation, that is quite the opposite of the sentiments you expressed.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Perhaps you should speak with her about it. Explain to her that what she overheard when she was eavesdropping, was entirely incorrect.”

Hunter shook his head.

“Or I could tell her if you prefer,” Tech continued helpfully.

“No!” Omega leapt from her room, bypassing the ladder entirely, and landed on her feet with a thud, nearly tripping over Gonky as she slid into the cockpit in front of them.

Hunter’s head snapped up in alarm.

“No.” She repeated adamantly, “Do not. Please do not. The last thing she needs to hear from us is blaming her for the miscommunication!”

“Speaking of eavesdropping…” Hunter crossed his arms, looking at his sister who responded with a sheepish grin. He rolled his eyes, not able to help the smirk that pulled at his lips at her antics.

“What? It’s a small ship. I can hear everything.”

“I wasn’t blaming her.” Tech said defensively. Hunter’s face fell again as Tech brought their attention back to the matter at hand.

“Well she’ll probably think we are if you say it like that.” Omega told him.

“She won’t talk to me.” Hunter shook his head, “Besides, she left after I yelled at her.”

Omega looked up at him with a grimace, “You did sound really mad…”

Hunter winced at the blame that flashed nearly imperceptibly through her eyes. “She almost got both you and herself killed during that last mission!” His voice grew hard again. “She’s reckless and I hate it!” His voice grew softer, “I can’t wa- ”

A scoff interrupted his lament as both Tech and Omega sported alarmed looks. Hunter turned to see you leaning against the bulkhead, face contorted in a mixture of anger and hurt. He could see the telltale shine of unshed tears you fought so hard to hide. Hidden from the world but not from him. Hunter noticed everything - especially when it came to you.

You chuckled dryly. “Nice to know how you really feel.” Your voice cracked, desperately straining to hold back tears. “I came to apologize and hear what you were going to tell me before I left. I gave it some thought, you know? I thought, ‘maybe I did misunderstand him’.”

You shook your head, “But no…. I guess I was right.” You spun around, heading to your bunk, pushing past Echo who’d returned just in time to witness your words.

“Wait…” Hunter stood up, calling after you but you did nothing to let him know you’d even heard him.

Quickly taking a few steps forward, fueled by a burning need not to let you slip through his fingers again, he grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

You let out a gasp as your back hit the cold of the wall, feeling a strange warmth sink into your bones as he pressed you in place.

No. You didn’t want to be here. Hunter didn’t want you to be here.

But yet…

All was silent as you found your eyes drawn up to his. A painful longing drove a wedge in an ever widening crack in the wall you’d so carefully thrown up to protect yourself from him.

This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Please…” he was practically begging now. Then he froze.

There it was again. That scent. The one that drove him crazy. The one he’d smelt on you when you’d come out of the fresher just a few days ago.

“Hunter!” Your voice had an edge to it.

No matter the hurt, leaving was the best option. You couldn’t stand how these mixed signals, sending you spinning one way and then the other.

He groaned, “Will you please calm down and let me explain!?”

"Calm down!?" The moment was broken and the anger returned, hot and fierce, sending rivers of steel to reinforce the shoddily crafted walls, turning it into a fortress. He would not break through so easily.

Not now. Not ever. He made his choice.

You ripped your arm from his grasp and spun around, anger blazing through your eyes. “Go kriff yourself, Hunter!” You turned to leave but spun back around, eyes blazing. “Actually, no. Go kriff Tara!”

The anger and hurt bubbled over. If he wouldn’t be honest with you, at least he could be honest with himself.

Conscious thought was gone. Emotion spewed like venom. “I saw you getting cozy with her at Cid’s so you obviously have feelings for her!” You spun back around, forcefully grabbing your go-bag from the foot of your bunk and strapping your blasters tightly around your thigh and another at your side. Without a second glance, the ramp hissed open and you strode out, missing how Hunter’s mouth fell open in a confused, but reluctant understanding as the ramp hissed shut behind you.

Oh. The realization soaked him to the bone as if he’d been woken up by a bucket of ice water.

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

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[fieldofdaisiies]

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 7

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2k words | warnings: mentions of trauma | masterlist

Your neck is aching when you throw it back and release a loud groan. Your eyes are already burning from staring into books the whole day. Outside Velaris has already entered the night – many hours ago–, but you are still sitting here, your back sore from being bent over the books for hours. 

The orange candle on the table, the only light source in the living room of the house of wind at this point, has almost burnt down to nothing, but you need it just a few more minutes. 

You are so close, you know it. The solution is right there, you just need to grasp it.

Reaching forward, you place your hand on the onyx box, sharp nails piercing into it. With the index finger of your other hand you trail over some ancient spells written in lettering that is now longer used. The spells are most likely witches runes, you are not familiar with them, but with the help of Nesta and maybe also Amren, you will be able to open the box.

You can feel it. You can feel how the small casket reacts to your touch, to the idea of being opened. It is burning with emotion, so hot your palm heats. 

You are so close – so close to opening this damn box. And so close to freedom. You will be allowed to roam freely when this is over, no one will ever lock you away again. Once the box is open you will demand your amulet back. With it your powers will return and then you are gone. To the continent or wherever the wind takes you. 

Gone…involuntarily your thoughts wander to the shadowsinger. He is also gone. Has been gone for a few days now. Gone just like back then. When he left you behind, broken and bloody. He did not even check to see if you are alright. If your wounds are too deep. If you will survive. 

Rhysand’s words hollow in your mind, loud, strong, and you force your eyes closed, fighting against the tears. 

“My father…he threatened the other female in Azriel’s life. The only other female he would have given his life for. This was the only way to protect you both.”

All those years, you have wondered what Azriel’s reasons were. Why he betrayed you like this. Why he never came to see you. You don’t know if you will ever be able to forgive him, but what you know is that you want to give him another chance to talk. You want to hear it from him. Everything. Every little thing he has to say. You want him to talk about his mother, about how he locked you in the Prison, the moments after it, the moment when he found out what the Harp was capable of. He owes you all the explanations and you owe him your time to listen.

You shake your head, directing every thought that threatens to stray into Azriel’s direction at matter at hand again – Koschei’s onyx box. You need to open it and you are so close. You flip over to the next page, finding more cryptic lettering. Your eyes are closed when your fingers trail over the words, the runes, the pictures and you feel it. This is it. 

Jumping up, the chair scratches over the ground with a loud noise. You need to find Nesta, and you need to find her now. You really hope she is not currently otherwise occupied with a certain general of the Illyrian armies because you really need to talk to her.

Blowing out the candle, you turn swiftly and head for the corridor, running as fast as your feet can take you, your thin, silken gown swishing around your legs. You head up the stairs, towards Nesta and Cassian’s main bedroom, but stop dead in your tracks when your eyes land on him. When his moan of agony pierces through your mind. 

The door to his bathroom is open, his bloody chest exposed, large wings draped on the ground, his hands braced on the edges of the sink. 

You can’t tear your eyes away and fully on your own accord your feet start to walk, no longer moving you towards Nesta’s room, but to him. You can’t stop yourself, it is like something is pulling you to him. And you know what it is – the tug on your chest. Before his betrayal you had loved the idea of it. Then everything came crashing down, and you hated it. You have been clamping down on the feeling of it for centuries, pushing it away, but now seeing him bloody and wounded –seeing your mate bloody and wounded– fire ignites deep within your soul, the bond once more coming alive inside of you.

“Azriel.” Your voice trembles, heart squeezing at the gaping wounds marring his entire torso, dripping with blood and puss. It looks awful and painful. Your fingers curl towards your palms.

He whips his head into your direction, and with a crooked smile, he says, “It isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“Bullshit,” you answer and step into the bathroom. “You look like you have been attacked by a beast, those wounds are deep. You need a healer to look over them.” When your eyes lifts, they clash with his. 

“Don’t act like you care,” he mumbles, holding your gaze.

“You have no right to snap at me, Azriel,” you answer in a stern voice, “not after everything that has happened between us, not after everything you did to me.”

“I am sorry.”

“I know.” You close the door behind you and fully move into the room, reaching for the cloth on the sink that is no longer white, but has no a pinkish colour, stained from all the blood. You clasp it tightly in your hand, and without saying a word, attach the cloth to Azriel’s wounded skin. He sucks in a sharp intake of air, then holds his breath and lets you do your work. “I am ready to talk, Azriel.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers curl around the edge of the sink, scarred knuckles turning white. “I needed time, I needed time to adapt, to understand, to progress, but I am ready to talk now.” You tip your head back and meet his hazel eyes, a flicker of hope within them now that you revealed that you are ready to talk to him. 

“Rhysand told me about your mother.”

“His father threatened to execute her. I needed to protect her, but I need you to know that I didn’t choose her over you. I was…torn. I only had a few people in my life that I loved, and risking one’s life for that of another…I only tried to–”

“Keep us both safe. I know this now.” Your hand moves lower, brushing over a wound on his lower belly that disappears behind the pants of his Illyrian leathers. 

“I was trying to get you out. I was looking for ways once all threats were gone, but…only when we found the Harp I had a solution on how to do it. I knew how I was going to get you.”

You nod slowly, and put the cloth aside. “Let’s patch you up and then we talk properly, yes?”

It is a big step you are taking, but you know you have to do it. You finally have to talk to him. Your heart is racing both with panic about being so close to the person that has hurt you most in your life, but also with relief that you can finally be near him without feeling like the air to breathe has been stolen from you. He still unnerves you, but now that you have learned more about why he acted like this, talking to him seems easier. 

You have to talk to him. For yourself. You need to know everything. Find out what really were his reasons.

“In my room?” Azriel asks in a calm voice. 

You nod again and set out to do exactly what you said – patching him up. 

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

“He showed me what he would do to her. All the cruel things. And all the cruel things he would do to you. He invaded my mind and showed it to me.” 

You find yourself nodding again, tears lining your eyes. You sit next to him on the bed, Azriel’s head resting on the pillow, close to your hips, his chest now bandaged, his body covered by the thin bed sheet. “I had no choice.”

You want to tell him that everyone always has a choice, but in this case, this was truly the only way to do it. You have been listening to him for the past hour or even longer, soft moonlight filtering in through the curtain-framed windows. It is the only lightsource, but you don’t need more. You close your eyes, your soul for the first time calm and at ease in his presence. Azriel has been talking the whole time, a rarity you think, because centuries ago when you were together he was always rather calm. 

“Did it really hurt you to put me in the Prison?”

You feel the bed shift next to you, and a moment later his scarred digits brush your hand. “What a question…” You can hear how he draws in a deep inhale and his hand closes tightly around yours. “It tore me apart. It felt like someone ripped out my heart, and tore it into pieces. Like my soul lost its life, like it was diminished and I could never ever feel happiness again. All the years, the centuries that passed, where I couldn’t free you, destroyed more parts of my soul.”

You slide down on the pillow, not letting go of his hand, until you are on eye-level with him. His head is turned to you, and he is already looking at you when you open your lids. 

“I knew the first moment I could find a way to free you, to get you out, I would do it. You were bound to the Prison by the High Lord’s magic, you couldn’t get out alone, not even if I had tried to. It was only possible through the Harp – the Dead Trove’s magic is stronger than any High Lord’s.”

You deep your chin, nodding slowly, the back of your mouth aching. “I thought you hated me, you loathed and feared me just like everyone else. That our whole relationship was a false-pretence.”

His throat bobs. “I didn’t fake a single thing – every I love you, every kiss, every hug, whenever we made love, I meant it all. And I meant when I said that I would protect you…I never meant to hurt you. To destroy you.”

You shift closer on the bed. “Do you know why your soul hurt after you put me into the Prison?”

“Because I lost the love of my life.” He pushes up on his elbows, groaning due to the wounds on his chest that have not yet healed. He shifts onto his side, now looking directly at you, but you shake your head. 

“No, Azriel,” you say, “your soul hurt because we were mates and the bond broke the moment you closed the gates to my cell.”

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[m0chisenpai]

Hey 👋 Can you do a Louis fic where after he and Armand break up, he doesn’t get back with Lestat and moves on or tries for a better healthier relationship with her/reader?

seal the cracks

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader

in which Louis begins to fill the neglected cracks of his relationships

As Louis stares into the crack of the wall, he find your eyes in the debri. he sees the same brokeness as the eyes that stared at him. Broken and beautiful.

Not even Armand's words could convince you to say after the carnage that Louis caused.

He needed to find you. He needed to apologize.

His eyes fall shut and his mind opens to the voices.

"This is the vampire Louis De Pointe Du Lac, searching for the vampire Y/N L/N."

Conversation contiues to overlap, until one voice alls to him. It is hoarse, "she is a ghost. By night she comes out, slaughtering dozens. Then she seals herself away till the hunger can not be bared ny longer."

"No!" a feminine voice hisses, "she fled to Russia! There is a coven there that speaks of her briefly."

More rumors fill him with dead end leads til he hisses, "enough." silencing the voics he sits on the couch. Elbows on his knees, hands in his face.

You could be anywhere. you could be dead. That thought makes ice fill his veins. But one of his workers tell him his ride is here. Ready to take him to the meeting place.

When Louis steps out of the car, he is met with the owner, happily telling him of all his establishment has to offer. But it’s like a fly in his ear as he enters the elevator. Twenty floors felt like a lifetime until he reaches the rooftop which would be filled any other night. But thanks to his financial pull, it is completely empty. Save for the one body sitting at a seatette overlooking the city.

Your body is still, and Louis takes his time to approach slowly, he sees the gleam off your bare shoulders. Admires how the olive little cocktail dress accentuates your body. What should he say? He can feel the rage, the grief. All of the dark murkyfeelings roll over him. As much as you hate him, he is your maker. And he feels you deeply and completely.

He dares to take the seat beside you, giving you the space you deserve. Your head moves just enough to look him in the eye. Your eyes are gray, nearly so light you looked like your eyes were blank white. But the faint streaks of blue make them pop.

“Hello.”

Louis echoes back, “hello.”

“I trust the flight here went well?”

“It did,” you experienced first class in all its beauty and comforts. Not the first time, but from the moment you left your home to landing in Dubai every little thing was covered for you. At first in your pettiness you intended to waste every bit of his money.

Buying obscene five star meals that you tossed. Glasses of champagne, an entire new wardrobe. You waited for him to chew you out as he did all those years ago. But not once did he respond.

“I want to talk about San Francisco.”

“Ah yes,” you pick up a golden case, pulling a cigarette out to settle between your lips. “Do you mind?” He shakes his head. Focusing on the cigarette and it flickers a little. You take a slow drag, tilting your head to blow it into the night air.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

You look to him, “always have. You just never noticed.”

Louis can recall the first time he and Armand met you. You were a bartender in the city trying to make ends meet to make it to New York. You wanted to perform on the big stage. But until then you were stuck mopping puke, taking tips stuffed in your bra and ignoring the perverted glances of customers.

When the two men sat down, they ordered two shots on the rocks which they barely touched throughout the night. Sticking to their cigarettes instead.

“You work here long?” Louis asked as you wiped along the table top.

“Started three months ago.”

“Long term?”

“Hardly, Next year you’re gonna see my name up in big lights in the city,” your smile was giddy. It stirred something in him. Armand hatred how easily you could pull such a smile.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed sir, though I need to start workin' on my accent" Louis feigns surprise. But truth is he could hear the southern twang in your voice the moment he entered.

"What brings a southern girl like you up here?"

"Well, I would have to tell you another night." A drunk waves you down stealing you away from Louis.

A crisp twenty brightens your night beneath his cup. And he and Armand kill the man who took your attention.

Every evening he comes to sit in that same spot, some times with the brooding partner of his, others without him. Some nights he's philosophical, others he's cynical. There are nights where he never utters a word. Just his eyes following your every movement.

You would become his second and final fledgling that following year. Your final night of humanity was spent in New York Armand accepted it, but even though he was hundreds of years older, wiser. The boyish desires to have ones things all to themself remained.

That night Louis took you to a Broadway production, putting you in the best box seats. Though he promised you for the rest of your days you could sit here, you declared tonight to be the very best.

Following afterwards you ate your final meal. Soul food from an old mom and pop shop and half glass of champagne which led you to where you sat now. He held you in his arms one final time.

"Will this truly be the last time you hear my mind?" your voice is hoarse from the silence as you soaked in your final sunrise.

"It is," he sees every memory one last time. He relishes in those big brown eyes, that gap in your teeth, the freckles from being out in the sun all day. He remembers that day so well, and you replay in your mind, wondering if days like that will ever return.

When the sun has completely gone and all that is left is the inky blackness of the night, something in Louis eyes tells you, "it' time."

You wonder what his final thoughts are. aHe wishes he were stronger, because he would project them to you. so instead he bgins to tell you. "I'm thinkin' about you. How I'm gonna miss the way your hert skips a beat at your favorite song, how you ear them bright sweaters int hat grungy bar...."

He empties his entire mind, his entire heart to you. Not even Armand had this kind of access to Louis. At midnight, you give him one last kiss as a human, and make love with him for the final time as well. And by the next nightfall you wake up something new, something beautifully cursed to stalk the night by his side.

Nightmares and terrors filly our nights. All from Armand. Only he would have lived enough to see such grotesque horrors. You see boys packed together on a boat weeping covered in their filth and sitting in their own sick.

Another night you are doused in rats and sealed shut in a coffin unable to scream as the giant rodents work to eat you apart in this giant tin box.

But the worst ones are the ones of those who are set on fire. Lying across a pyre and burnt slowly to a chard crisp. At first Louis brushes your worries aside, holding you in his arms in his coffin. But then Louis starts entering your dreams, beaten and bruised fried from the sun in some theatre while an audences thundering laughs rattle you as they cackle at the bloody tears puring from your eyes.

That's when the fight happens.

as soona s you are awake you pounce on Armand and Louis has to pull you off from him, cursing and hissing.

"I know its you!! You monster!! Just cause he won't screw you anymore!!" You thrash at Armand who was tossing into a hole into the wall of the apartment you three reside in.

"What were you thinking?" Louis hisses at you holding you at arms length like some child.

"You're being reckless! Now we gota get the hell out fore' the neighbors start calling the cops!" He hisses rubbing his hand across his face.

"That's what your worried about? What about your boy keeping me up fpr nearly a fucking YEAR!" ypur screams rattle the walls and Louis is quick to clamp his hand over your mouth.

"You just haven't gptten used to the change yet," your eyes go wide. He was dfending him. The one who has been torturing you.

You nod stepping out his grasp.

"It's either me or him."

"Love..."

"Don't call me that," you stp up chest pressed aginst his and whisper once more, "it's either gon' be me, or him."

Silence fills the apartment. But te look in his eyess break your heart. You nod stoeming into your shared room. He and Armand handle the police that arrive, but when he goes back to your room it's emmpty and torn into pieces.

The memory ends there as you finish your cigarette which you stub out in front of you. You look into his eyes, see the pain, watch as a bloody tear slips down the curve of his nose.

"I should've picked you..." his voice is hoarse.

"I know."

"He...he just..."

"Was a rebound. For Lestat right? Out of spite. I figured, Daniel sent me an adanced reader," you read it ten times. It was lying on the night stand of your hotel room now. "Was I a rebound too?"

"No" Louis immediately shakes his hand. "I'm done makin' exscuses for myself. But I know for a fact I fell in love with you and all your singing and dancing till the sun rose and"

"You would tell me 'cher get in here before the sun burns you'" you finished wistfully.

"I came to every performance of yours. When you were in the background and then you got your first main role in rent and you glowed on stage." You remember that opening night, seeing him sitting in the front. His eyes never leaving you once, but not once did you return his gaze.

You hate how much you love him right now. How much you miss him, but he will always be your Louis. Your maker, your lover, your companion.

"If I return," hope for a moment glimmers in his eyes, "and he is there. I will set him and you on fire. And spread your ashes to the four corners of the earth."

"Anything for you my love" he goes to reach your hands which you quickly pull back pointing one finger up.

"And no more of that dull black and gray macarbe stuff. I need color in my life Louis. Stop living like the dead, for me. Please" You scoot closer, gazing up into his eyes.

His gaze warms your cold heaet, as he stares down at you like you've hung the very moon and stars.

"Of course, cher. For you."

[emilystheories]

Aelin Galathynius created Prythian. She is the Mother.

This theory contains TOG, ACOTAR and (slight) CC SPOILERS!

Many, many thousands of years ago, Amren recalled that a huge "rip in the sky" appeared in her home world. Out of curiosity, Amren flew through this rip, and landed in Prythian.

This perfectly aligns with Aelin ripping a hole in the sky of the God's realm. This is the most concrete piece of evidence that Throne of Glass took place in the past (something I have already theorised about).

However, and most interestingly, it is suggested that Amren entered Prythian when it was being made - when the world itself was beginning to form.

If Aelin indeed created the "rip" in the sky that Amren went into - the timing suggests that Aelin's actions led to the creation of Prythian.

And, although subtle, we actually have proof of this.

Recall that Wyrd was described as the thing that "keeps the realms apart:"

But, when Aelin shut the gates between worlds at the end of Kingdom of Ash, we have this VERY important (and often overlooked) clue:

Aelin caused for all worlds to overlap.

I believe this is how Prythian was born.

The Cauldron.

According to the mural that Feyre observes, Prythian was created by a female with "glowing, slender hands," who tipped a fluid with "strange symbols" (wyrdmarks), from the Cauldron, onto the land.

I believe this was Aelin - perhaps not literally, but metaphorically.

But this begs the question; what exactly is the Cauldron?

For starters, we know that the Cauldron has 3 "legs". These legs provide most of its power (and this is an important clue!)

This is very similar to the 3 wyrdkeys in TOG; the very 3 wyrdkeys that Aelin embedded into her arm (and subsequently her blood) when she sealed the gates.

Aelin then gave over the 3 wyrdkeys, and all of her fire power to forge the new lock. It is this very power that is the essence of the Cauldron. 

As evidence of this, when we see the Cauldron's power in ACOWAR, it presents as Aelin's own power; "raw fire power," capable of burning an entire army to ash within seconds.

The Dread Trove.

The Cauldron also created the Dread Trove - and this is another very important clue.

The Crown.

The Crown can control and influence people - just like the wyrdkeys (and subsequent wyrdcollars and rings controlled people in TOG).

The Mask.

The Mask can control the dead - just like the wyrdkeys could create armies of dead people; a power Erawan desperately wanted.

The Harp.

The Harp can open portals to different locations, and potentially different worlds and realms. This is one of the key features of the wyrdkeys.

In fact, it was said the 3 wyrdkeys were needed to create a wyrdgate.

The Cauldron has 3 legs (that I believe are the 3 wyrdkeys Aelin yielded to seal the lock).

Thus, the Cauldron *IS* a wyrdgate.

Cauldron = Wyrdgate.

As further proof of this, to "nullify" the Cauldron, Amren had to:

give up her current body,

forget about those she loved,

and unleash her power of "light and flame."

Which is just like Mala Fire-Bringer; who also had to:

give up her current body,

forget about those she loved, (in fact, both her and Amren both warned that they will no longer "remember" their loved ones),

and unleash her power of "light and flame", in order to forge the lock, and shut the wyrdgate.

But, recall that when Mala's plan didn't work, Aelin (and Dorian) had to give all of their power to reforge a new lock, in order to seal and shut the wyrdgate once more.

This is just like Rhys in ACOWAR; in order to re-seal the Cauldron, he had to give over every inch of his power.

In fact, when Aelin and Dorian's power were used together, and in combination with the wyrdkeys, it was described as "creation and destruction," and the "beginning and the ending."

These are the exact same terms used to describe the Cauldron - and I'd argue the exact same *power* of the Cauldron (but more on that later).

And, as a side note - at one point, the Cauldron's power was even described as "fire and ice"... (ring any bells?)

The Lock.

Further, when Aelin and Dorian were sealing the wyrdgate shut, they had to make a "lock."

The lock they made was the Eye of Elena. This is perhaps the most important clue in this theory; that this very symbol and mechanism allowed for the creation of the Cauldron.

However, we learn in later TOG books that this symbol isn't just known as the Eye of Elena, but also as the "Eye of the Goddess." This is because it was first a sacred witch symbol, created by Rhiannon Crochan.

Crochan means Cauldron.

Additionally, the Eye of the Goddess was named as such, as it is said to represent the Three Faced Goddess (that the witches worshipped), and her three counterparts;

The Maiden

The Mother

The Crone.

It's for this reason that I believe the Cauldron was created from the Eye of Elena, or the Eye of the Goddess lock, as it too follows the principles of Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

We see clear evidence of this when Elain, Nesta and Briallyn were thrown into the Cauldron.

Elain was made into the Maiden.

The Maiden often symbolises innocence, beauty and blossoming.

In TOG, the Maiden was represented by the Blueblood witches, who were the "oracles, mystics, and zealots."

Elain was made into a Seer.

The Bluebloods also required more iron (as it was said that they were the most powerful), and it is rather interesting that Elain (presumably) wears an iron ring.

Nesta was made into the Mother.

The Mother often symbolises maturity, responsibility, and power.

In TOG, the Mother was represented by the Blackbeak witches, who were the warriors - known for their "obedience, discipline, and brutality."

Considering the multiple references to Nesta making a fine General in an army, as well as the parallels between Manon's thirteen, and Nesta's Valkyries - it makes perfect sense.

Briallyn was made into the Crone.

She was, quite literally, turned into an old woman by the Cauldron.

Creation and Destruction.

Knowing that that the Cauldron was made from the Eye of Elena/Eye of the Goddess, as well as the 3 wyrdkeys, as well as Aelin's own power that she donated to forge the lock, and seal the gate - this can explain Nesta's own power.

Nesta's power manifested as "cold" flame, one that seemingly burned without a trace.

We have already seen this before;

Aelin's moon-fire,

and Kaltain's shadow-fire.

The commonality between these two? Both women were in possession of the wyrdkeys.

The same wyrdkeys that the Cauldron now possess; the same power that Nesta stole.

And, all in all, this makes perfect sense. The Cauldron is a wyrdgate. Wyrd is the "language of the universe," it is the power of both creation and destruction, life and death.

Nesta's power symbolises one half - Death.

And, it's for this reason that I believe that Elain's powers (that are yet to be revealed), will symbolise the other half - Life. Creation. (And, I also have an inkling that she will be the one to rebuild the Dusk Court with this very power).

We also know that the Cauldron loved Elain. If the Cauldron was indeed created by Aelin - that she is it's Mother - then perhaps it's no coincidence that "Elain" is an anagram for "Aelin"....?

A portal too?

If the Cauldron is indeed a wyrdgate - then recall that Feyre threw the Book of Breathings into it.

Now, Jesiba Roga possesses that exact book.

Does this tell us that the Cauldron is in fact a wyrdgate to Lunathion, and the Crescent City world...?

Knowing all the connections between the Cauldron and the witches - and Jesiba being a witch herself, it makes sense...