#burning everything 'til there was nothing / brought death down from above

[lithiumghostkilljoy]

It was anarchy with your weaponry

You killed off all that was

Burning everything

'Til there was nothing

Brought death down from above

[imagineyourworld]

Hey there! Could I request g. with Luke Skywalker with an inquisitor reader? Congrats on reaching 100, can't wait to read more of your work!

Hi,

Thank you so much <3

That's a really interesting request, I hope I can do it justice.

Love, Charlie

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Luke Skywalker x Genderneutral!Inquisitor!Reader

g. "Sorry doesn't fix everything."

Warnings: Slight age difference (just a couple of years, not specified), kinda self-harm, but not really

-------

You didn't consider yourself anyone special. You were one of many, one of many children orphaned during the end of the Clone Wars or the beginning of the Empire, one of many cadets in the Imperial Academy, one of many singled out on your fifteenth birthday for 'special training'. It wasn't until you turned eighteen and were sent on your first mission, the only one of your squad to ever receive a mission at all, that you realized that maybe there was something special about you, though you only managed to put it in words once none other than Grand Moff Tarkin, the Grand Moff Tarkin, pinned a medal on your chest and congratulated you to your promotion. That's when you realized that you were special, you were one of only a handful of Inquisitors, chosen and trained to rid the galaxy of the few remaining Jedi or those who still had faith in the doomed order, those whose abilities were too dangerous to let them live. You were good at what you did, if not one of the best, and had countless medals to prove it. Maybe that's why your next mission came from very high up, from Darth Vader himself. The day you met the second most powerful man in the galaxy would change your life forever, though whether for better or for worse you would never be able to tell.

-------

Vader had sent you to what had to be the worst planet you have visited so far. Tatooine was nothing but a pile of sand, two burning suns and more criminals and low lives than you cared to count. Though for someone high up in the empire, who received a generous salary, it wasn't too bad. Rent and food were cheaper than other places, so you allowed yourself the rare luxury of renting a small suite in one of the better hotels the planet had to offer. The mission itself was simple, all you had to do was listen to locals and maybe ask a few inconspicuous questions to find out whether there were any Jedi sympathizers left in this corner of the galaxy. That's how you met him, and how your life changed once more. Luke Skywalker quite literally ran into you the first time you visited a place called Tosche station. He was just leaving as you were entering, and since he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and you had no space to move to the side the two of you collided. Luke managed to stay on his feet, but you began to stumble and fall, only to suddenly find yourself in his arms. Wow, that kid has fast reflexes, was the first thing you thought, but once you got a closer look at him you realized that he was no kid, at the most he was a couple of years younger than you, though his out of style clothes and long hair made him appear younger than is actual age. "I am so sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?", he asked, his arms still around you and concern in his eyes. You didn't know what it was, but there was something about him that made you stare just a moment longer, and heat rise up to your cheeks. "I'm fine. But I might feel better if you bought me a drink", you replied. Your keen eyes noticed the blush that crept up his face at your words. His reaction, and the overall lack of young people, let alone attractive young people, on this planet made it obvious that he wasn’t used to flirting, which brought out a strange sense of accomplishment and possessiveness in you.  “Just wait here, I’ll get us something to drink and I know a shady place to sit down”, he told you before disappearing in the crowd. 

-------

True to his word Luke reappeared a moment later and lead you to what seemed to be an abandoned farm a short distance away. That’s where the two of you settled and only when the suns began to set did you get back up. You didn’t remember the last time you have had a conversation like this, talking about everything and nothing. In just one short afternoon you learned more about Luke than you knew about most of your fellow cadets back at the academy. He was an orphan, living with his aunt and uncle on their moisture farm and though the two of them were happy with that life, Luke wanted more, he wanted to see the galaxy, a sentiment you could understand more than he knew. Luke was all of the things the people in your life weren’t; open and honest, sweet and funny, warm as the two suns above and quite good looking on top of it. In retrospect you should have known that it wouldn’t take Luke long to find a place in your heart, and your frequent meetings that followed after your first day together certainly didn’t help.  Luke was your first kiss, only a week after you first met him in the Tatooine desert with gleaming stars and a bright moon above.  He was the first one you told about your past, at least a few basics. You told him that you were an orphan, that your parents had been killed during the last few days of the Clone Wars and that you have been on your own since you were a baby. You told him about the loneliness and fears you usually kept bottled up and your unrealistic dreams for the future.  Luke was the first you slept with, back in your hotel suite, after you had treated him to a dinner nicer than any he has had back on the farm. It wasn’t like what your peers had told you sex was like, it was sweet and passionate and lovely.  And even though you tried your best not to, Luke was the first person you ever fell in love with, the first you cared about, other than the memory of parents you didn’t even remember if you were being honest.  Your relationship with Luke was both the only real thing and the biggest lie in your life. He had told you everything about himself, but you had no choice but to keep lying to him again and again, no matter how much it hurt. Maybe that’s why part of you was glad when, after once again reporting that there was nothing unusual on Tatooine, you were told your mission was over and you should report to the Death Star.  When you told Luke that you’d have to leave the next day he kissed you in his unique sweet way and whispered the three words you have come to cherish against your lips.  “In that case I think I should give this to you now. I had been planning to wait til our one year anniversary next month, but I guess that doesn’t matter now”, he mumbled, speaking more to himself than to you. Before you could ask what he was talking about he pulled a small box out of the messenger back he usually carried with him. Gently he opened the box to reveal the most stunning bracelet you have ever seen.  “It was my mother’s, one of the few things I have of hers. I want you to have it.”  You lifted the bracelet out of  its box, admiring how the stones shone in the soft light of the candles around your suite.  “Luke...”, you said, trying your best not to let your voice break. “I cannot accept this.”  You lowered the bracelet to put it back in the box, but before you could Luke took your hand in his and used his other hand to close your finger on top of it.  “I want you to have it, I really do. To remember me by. Besides, the colour really doesn’t suit me.”  You couldn’t fight the smile that found its way to your lips at his bad joke, neither the tears that appeared in your eyes. It really was time for you to leave this planet, to leave Luke, if you didn’t do it soon you feared you never would.  “Thank you. I won’t take this off, I promise”, you vowed as he gently fastened the bracelet around your wrist and then pressed a soft kiss on your pulse point.  “I love you”, he said with a sad smile.  Only then did it occur to you that he had said it multiple times now, almost every day ever since the first time he had said it almost seven months ago, but never once did you say the words back. Maybe it was fitting that the only time you told him how you felt about him was when saying goodbye.  “I love you too, Luke.” 

-------

Soon after your return to the Empire, and your first visit to the infamous Death Star, did you realize why you had been called back so suddenly. The war against the rebels was picking up pace and the Empire could use all the help it could get.  The next year was busy, you were no longer sent on solo missions but rather trained with the elite forces, taught to fly and shoot instead of fighting with your lightsaber, and then it suddenly stopped.  After the Battle of Yavin the Empire had to regroup, rethink its strategies, and fight a new opponent.  “We have information about an old Jedi temple, you will leave tomorrow and destroy it”, Grand Moff Tarkin informed you in his usual clipped way.  This caught your attention, and for the first time in a while your interest. Hunting Jedi, making sure no children strong with the force would ever find out about their existence and take care of them if they did was what you were trained for, what you often thought you were born to do. Suddenly it dawned on you that the last time you had actually been assigned a mission like this was before Tatooine, before Luke.  “Why me? I don’t mean to question your decision, but there are many older, more skilled Inquisitors.”  Tarkin simply nodded. “I agree. But Lord Vader asked for you specifically. You’re to leave for Dagobah tomorrow at 0700.” 

-------

Your short research told you that Dagobah was basically a slimy mudhole, but upon arrival it seemed even worse than in the pictures on the holonet.   “If that temple is inside one of those swamps I’m not even gonna bother, I’ll just set fire to the whole planet”, you mumbled as you climbed out of your TIE fighter, careful not to get your bracelet caught on the ladder. That had happened once during one of your first flying lessons and it had cost you almost a month’s salary to get it repaired, apparently the medal alone was worth more than you made in a year, from the stones you might even be able to buy a small planet.  The second your feet touched the ground you felt something dripping down from the trees onto your arms, which you could only hope was water.  Luckily, after just a few meters, you stumbled upon a path covered with mostly dry branches and pebbles.  “I thought this planet was supposed to be abandoned, but this looks almost like someone made this path on purpose.”  You kept walking along the path, checking your datapad every now and then to make sure you were headed the right way.  After what felt like half an eternity of walking you finally reached a small hut, which your datapad assured you was right next to the temple, though since you couldn’t see anything other than the hut and a million trees you decided to investigate there first, who knew what you may find.  A familiar buzz ran through your entire body, adrenaline and excitement preparing you for what was to come. With a slight smile on your lips you ignited your lightsaber, partially so you’d be ready for what- or whoever would be waiting for you inside, partially because from where you stood in the doorway you could tell that it was incredibly dark and the added benefit of a lightsaber was the soft glow that helped in situations like this.  Inside the hut was larger than it had seemed on the outside, mostly meaning that there was more than just one room. In fact, there was a long hallway with open doors on both sides leading to different rooms. The first couple of rooms you checked, if they could even be called that, were pretty much overtaken by nature and rotting away. There was nothing that spoke of Jedi, or any other intelligent being, having been there in recent years. It wasn’t until you were closing in on the last rooms that you heard a low noise, followed by a gut feeling that told you that what you were looking for would be in that room. Though since you didn’t know what, or who, exactly would be in there you entered the room with your lightsaber stretched out in front of you, hoping the red sword would make any possible threat stand down before they could try anything while you would remain in the shadowy hallway to glance inside.  The plan seemed to work, since you heard a small gasp from inside the room just a moment before you realized who it had come from.  “Luke?”  “(Y/N)?”  Both your voices were astounded, shocked, and mournful. Of all the people in the galaxy, why did it have to be Luke Skywalker you found here of all places?  “What are you doing here?”, you asked as you slowly entered the room.  It was then that you noticed just how different Luke looked, how much he had changed since you last saw him. His hair was a bit shorter, his skin paler and his eyes darker. And he was wearing an orange flight suit, the outfit was completed by the helmet in his hand, with the familiar rebel symbol on the side.  You turned your lightsaber off before fastening it to your belt, just in time because only moments later you felt your legs begin to wobble before they gave out underneath you.  Luke, his reflexes fast as ever, quickly pushed a chair in your direction, so you would fall on that instead of the hard floor.  “Luke... Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”  You didn’t know what made you plead, hated the hurt and fear in your voice, but how could Luke, your Luke, not only be a rebel but be hiding right were an ancient Jedi temple was supposed to be.  “If you’re asking whether I’m a rebel, the answer is yes”, he said after a moment of silence. “But judging by that red saber that’s not the only thing you’re asking.”  Luke astonished you by sitting down on the small bed you only just noticed, one of the few pieces of furniture in the small room. How could he be so calm?  “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a... what do you call yourselves again? Inquisitors?”  You couldn’t help the inappropriate laugh that escaped your lips.  “Yes, Inquisitors. Also known as the only people stopping the Jedi from destroying the galaxy as we know it.”  Luke simply looked at you, an expression on his face you’ve never seen. He seemed to be beyond angry, though there was no denying the sadness in his eyes.  “Is that what you believe? That the Jedi, the few Jedi you and those like you haven’t slaughtered, are trying to destroy the galaxy?”  Not knowing what made you do it you sat down next to Luke, though you did your best to put some distance between you on the small bed.  “Luke, I know this might be hard to hear, I know some people, rebels and Jedi alike, probably told you more lies than either of us can count, but the Jedi are bad. They once controlled the galaxy, did you know that? And they used that control to gain riches and live comfortably while others suffered. They were selfish and deceiving and cruel and Emperor Palpatine was the only one who could stop them. You know that, don’t you?”, you asked. Of course Luke had to know that, know the truth. You spoke to him in a soft voice, careful not to burst his bubble too sudden, to give him time to adjust and acknowledge what deep down you were sure he had to know.  “Is that what they told you? What they made you believe so you would go around killing innocent children, scared old fugitives and all those trying to live normal lives after a genocide? Wake up, (Y/N)! It’s not the Jedi that are bad, it’s the Empire.”  Luke reached out to take your hand and for reasons unknown to you, you let him.  “The Empire raised you, didn't it?”, he asked.  To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You’ve never really told Luke anything about your past, you weren’t even sure whether you told him that you were an orphan, but certainly not what your childhood had been like.  “How did you know?”  He moved closer to you before he answered, reached for your face to lay a hand on your cheek. The sadness in his eyes was even more obvious now, so much so that it took over his entire face.  “There’s no other explanation. If you had known life outside the Empire, if even just for a moment, you would know just how false everything you just said is.”  You shook your head. Though doubt began to creep in on you, the bigger part of your brain knew that Luke must be trying one of his Jedi tricks on you. But as soon as that thought appeared you neglected it. This was Luke, your Luke. Sweet and kind and caring, he couldn’t hurt a fly, much less you, no matter how much time has passed. So was what he was saying true? At least partially?  “They told you what they want you to believe, never let you make up your own mind. I know you, (Y/N), I know that deep down, somewhere underneath all those lies you’ve been told, you’re a good person, and that person doesn’t have to heart to be an Inquisitor.”  There was an expression on Luke’s face you knew all too well. Hope.  He squeezed your hand before lifting it up to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of it.  “Luke, I... I’m...”, you started, but with how much your lip was quivering you couldn’t finish your sentence.  “It’s alright”, Luke said before pressing another kiss to your hand. “You don’t need to say it, you don’t need to apologize. You know, sorry doesn’t fix everything, but it’s a good start. And if you let me, I can help you. You could start a new life as part of the rebellion, I’m sure they’d be glad to have someone of your expertise.”  As Luke kept talking your head began to spiral. Finally you came to a conclusion, and though you knew it was the right thing, you almost didn’t go through with it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to look Luke in the eyes afterwards.  Slowly you began to loosen your hand from Luke’s grasp and removed his other hand from your cheek.  “I’m not sorry. I’m not gonna say that I am when I’m not. Maybe what I’ve done was wrong, and if that’s the case your rebellion would never accept me, I don’t think I would accept me if what I have done wasn’t for the good of the galaxy, or maybe everything I’ve ever been taught was right and you’re lying to me. Whatever it is, I cannot say that I’m sorry, much less go with you, until I know the truth.”  You took a deep breath and averted your eyes from Luke’s face. You couldn’t bear to look at him right now.  “I know you won’t hurt me, even though you probably should. And I won’t hurt you, even though that’s what I’m here for. I’ll go looking for answers, to see whether I’m the villain you think I am, or the hero I was raised to be.”  As you spoke the last words you got up from the small bed. You could feel Luke’s eyes on you, but knew that if you looked at him, at the face you’ve seen in your dreams ever since you first met, you wouldn’t be able to go through with your plan, instead you’d crumble and fall into his arms, knowing he’d always be there to catch you.  Lucky for you, Luke didn’t say anything, didn’t try to stop you until you were almost out the door.  “I still love you”, he finally said. “Maybe I shouldn’t, knowing what I now know, but I can’t help it.”  Even though every bone in your body was screaming at you to turn around, even though your heart was aching to catch one last glimpse at him, you continued to walk out the door, out the hut and didn’t stop until you reached your TIE.  And just as you were taking off, after you have ripped parts of your clothes and carefully cut yourself with your lightsaber to make it seem as if Luke had bested you in battle, you finally did turn around and looked for Luke among the trees. And though you didn’t see him, something told you that he was there, watching you. It was that feeling that made you whisper the words you should have said to him whenever you had the chance.  “I love you too. And I’m sorry, for everything.” 

-------

I’m so sorry that this took ages, but I hope it was worth the wait. I really loved this idea and though I don’t think I really did it justice I have tried my best. 

[thewavesfadetogrey]

Now it's the end, strangers again

It was anarchy with your weaponry

You killed off all that was

Burning everything 'til there was nothing

Brought death down from above.

- Starset, annihilated love

[beerecordings]

It takes one sleep spell.

Not complicated. Not novel to him. Not difficult. It takes energy, yes, a good deal, but he'll recover in a couple days. It's worth it.

One sleep spell, four times. One for everyone in his home. Three brothers and an intruder. Three brothers and a threat.

He's just young and confused, whispers one last fighting voice in his head. Scared like you were when you came to be. He doesn't deserve to be hurt for it.

Three brothers are more important than one stranger. His mind is made up. That last cerebration of revolution is a coward and nothing more.

He ghosts out of his room, leaving the door open behind him. The moonlight from the living room is looking right at him. He stares back and tries not to breathe. Down the hall, whispering.

Upstairs, first. He isn't ready to deal with that.

His younger brothers live across from each other up the stairs, so close they can hear each other if they call out during the night, especially since both sleep with their door open. May as well be sharing a room, he thinks sometimes. It feels intimate to stand between them. Right now, it even feels invasive.

But it's his job to protect them. They've been through enough already. He'll do what he has to do.

Henrik has fallen asleep right on top of his covers, still clutching his phone in one hand, his eyes heavy and purple with fatigue. Marvin doubts he even needs a sleeping spell, but it's better to be safe than sorry. He used to have nightmares that would wake him up hour after hour, til his whole face was the color of smoke and his hair was coming out from sleep loss and stress. He's finally recovering. He's finally healing. He deserves to keep healing far away from anything that could hurt him. Drooling into his pillows, his glasses askew on his face and his hair ruffled like a bird's nest, scarred and exhausted, Marvin still thinks he's beautiful.

He brushes his hand along Henrik's hair, resting his palm along the back of his head. Henrik's breath hitches for just a second – and then he lets out a long, low sigh, and his breathing evens, deep and heavy, his fingers going limp around his phone. Marvin takes it from him and places it on his bedside table before drawing back the covers and slipping him gently underneath, taking off his glasses and pulling the blankets up to his chest. Henrik does not stir.

One sleeping spell.

Chase is wrapped up in bandages around his shirtless torso. He's buried up to his nose in bedsheets, but Marvin has the sudden need to see the wound, to remember the anger and the determination that brought him here. He fills his palm with Chase's chin, stroking his beard gently, and Chase coughs once and then slumps down against his fingers, dead asleep. Marvin can smell alcohol on his breath. His littlest brother, who came into the world so ill and so heavy-grieved already. Young and already hurting so badly he lifted a gun into his head. Marvin, if you asked him, would tell you he loves Chase most of all, because Chase needed him more than anyone else. Chase needs him.

And now Anti thinks he can manipulate them all with a sweet face. Now Anti thinks he can do this to him. Drawing back the covers, Marvin pulls the bandage carefully away from his skin and finds the puckered stab wound gleaming darkly from his shoulder, above his heart. It will heal, Henrik had promised, but Marvin didn't care.

If he didn't stop it, it would happen again. So he would stop it. Chase would not die because of Jameson. He kisses the side of his brother's head and slips away, padding back down the stairs.

Bad luck, Jackie had said, with a voice that suggested not just bad luck but terrible luck, horrifying luck, the worst possible kind of luck. Bad luck to be possessed within ten minutes of coming into the world. Poor little sap.

He had carded his hands all warmly down Jameson's hair, and the newcomer, exhausted, had just stared up at him, his mind still fogged from the possession, but his eyes already looking up so soft and so grateful for Jackie. Marvin wonders if he will remember that moment – that moment of Jackie's kindness, of Jackie's sympathy – or if he is too far gone to register anything other than Anti.

Marvin, for his part, does not believe for a second that it is bad luck.

Jameson was created for Anti.

Hell, for all he knows, Jameson was created by Anti.

And things like that can't live in his house. Can't live with his brothers. Can't be a part of his family.

Anti came back for him again yesterday. Years of their home being secure, being safe from him – the only place in the world Henrik feels safe, the only place Stacy will allow Chase to have the kids – and it was all ruined by his connection to the stranger.

This one little threat who's invaded his home. No. Marvin will not allow it. Not long enough for Chase to get hurt again, not long enough for Henrik to lose his sense of safety, not long enough for Jackie to get attached. No.

He stands at the cracked-open door of Jackie's room.

His brother's gentle whispering has stopped, but he knows from his breathing that he is not asleep. Jackie breathes loud in his sleep and Marvin knows the sound of it well, fondly well, warmly well, even if he is kind of a snorer. It's two in the morning and Jackie is still awake, watching over him.

His goddamn hero complex. He'll look after anyone. Sometimes Marvin thinks that if Anti himself collapsed at their door, Jackie would be guarding him and fussing over him. He can be so soft. He can't see what has to be done, and it would hurt him to do it. Marvin wants to keep him safe, but he also needs him to be able to keep his identity. He knows Jackie wouldn't be strong enough to do this, so he'll make the sacrifice, and spare his brother the pain.

He slinks into the room, silent. Jackie, he sees now, is close to sleep, his head down on his bed beside Jameson's thigh, turned away from the door. His hands, gloved, are massaging Jameson's right one, pushing at the muscles of his palm, threading their fingers together, stroking down his wrist and thumb, holding on to him.

Marvin takes the back of Jackie's head between his hands, and Jackie gasps, shocked, and then, before he can even turn, collapses against the bed. Marvin doesn't want him to think he just felt asleep – he would feel guilty, he must believe he was attacked – so he puts his arms beneath his brother's strong shoulders and lowers him to the ground, leaving him splayed out as though struck. Hopefully he'll assume Jameson did it, or Anti, if there's a difference at all.

Easy. That was easy.

He turns back to the stranger, hand empty now, fingers uncurled like they're waiting for Jackie to come back. He's in shadow, breathing slow and sleepy, safe with Jackie, he must have felt. Marvin reaches for his head.

Jameson jerks away and Marvin nearly screams. Of course this fucker is the only other person awake in the house.

Jameson is on his feet, staggering on weak legs, still exhausted from being possessed and the fight that followed. His face appears in the moonlight of Jackie's room and Marvin flushes with anger. A perfect little manipulator, a perfect puppet for Anti, with his big blue puppy dog eyes and his soft open face and his stupid over-exaggerated expressions. Right now, he looks terrified, his eyebrows raised to the end of his fringe, his pink mouth open in horror, his hands out-stretched to protect himself.

“Don't make this hard,” snaps Marvin. “We both know we can never be safe with you. You're just Anti's toy!”

Jameson flinches as though struck and tries to race forward towards the door, but Marvin is in his way. His hands burn with a vivid blue light and Jameson freezes, backing away again, panting and looking side to side. His eyes alight on Jackie's window and he leaps toward it, grabbing frantically at the lock.

“Come here,” shouts Marvin, wrapping his arms around him, and the stranger gives a little wheeze of a scream, thrashing even as Marvin drags him back, back, back, his hand reaching up; Marvin grabs the back of his head and one spell –

One sleep spell –

Jameson whimpers and then rag-dolls in his arms, his head falling down on his shoulder, his legs limp beneath him so that only Marvin's arms keep him up.

Marvin pants, holding him for a second.

He's warm and downy as a bird against his neck, his eyes fluttered closed, long lashes draping across his moonlight-stained cheeks. A dark bruise marks his cheek from where Jackie struck Anti while he was wearing the boy. He hadn't realized Anti was possessing anyone. Jameson's fingers dangle palely at Marvin's side, the one index finger wrapped in bandaging, with Henrik's little stitches, he knows, etched into the side.

He looks like Henrik. Feels like Chase. And Jackie already loves him. For a moment, Marvin cannot breathe.

This is my little brother, whispers that last rebellious piece of him. This is my family and he needs me to protect him.

No. No.

Maybe... maybe this is the wrong thing to do.

Maybe even if this keeps the others safe, it's wrong, and it would be right to stay and fight for him, to risk everything for him, his innocent little brother, to risk Chase and Henrik and Jackie for him and maybe – just maybe – find a way to keep him safe without locking him away from the rest of the world or letting Anti get a hold on him. Maybe Jameson is someone that he should fight for. Certainly he's someone the others want to fight for, and maybe it isn't his place to decide that he won't allow it.

But no. No.

Losing Chase... losing Henrik... losing Jackie for this boy? This boy who's already hurt them, willingly or not, this boy who will cost them blood and tears and perhaps even death, this boy who was created with Anti already writhing under his skin?

Marvin isn't willing to give up the others for him.

Marvin isn't willing to let them die for him.

In fact, Marvin's just about willing to kill Jameson himself if it keeps the others safe.

Nausea simmers in his gut and he swallows back vomit, trying to breathe steady.

“I think this is wrong,” he says out loud.

Jameson is so soft and so heavy against him. He can hear him breathing. Deep. In, out. Little sighs. Not like Jackie or Chase or Henrik. Jameson.

“I think if I do this, I'll be a bad person.”

One sleep spell.

One sleep spell, that's it.

One sleep spell and my soul.

To keep the others safe?

To keep the family he already has safe?

Marvin picks Jameson up, cradling him against his chest, and carries him away.

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

He wakes up cold.

Where is he?

Distantly, his mind protests with the faint recollection of a lovely thick comforter draped heavily over his body and arms full of blankets and sleep-smell. His memory of going from here to there is disjointed, disorienting, upsetting, just like all his memories. He doesn't know who he is and now, once again, he doesn't know where he's woken up or what his body was used for while he was unconscious, moved against his will. The thought alone is almost enough to make him cry, but he can be strong a little longer. He is determined. He wants to go to a church so a priest can exorcise him. He thought the man in the red hood who watched over him would be able to bring him. He'd been kind. His face is already blurry in Jameson's mind.

His head is heavy with fatigue, so by the time he gets to his feet, he's dizzy and clutching at the wood of the wall. He reaches out a second hand to find his way forward, but immediately his palm is stopped. He must be in the corner. The walls are very close. He blinks and rubs at his eyes.

Oh. Oh. The walls are very close. The walls are very, very close.

Jameson shrinks against the corner, staring around at the little box, just tall enough for him to stand up. Plain brown walls stare back at him. He can't feel any wind passing through the boards or hear anything other than his own breathing and the rapid beating of his quailing heart. It's so silent he must be dead already and something constricts his heart. Heavy-bodied boa chokes him.

He sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles shrilly, shoving himself back onto his feet. This can't be happening! Did God send him to hell because of the things his hands did or is this purgatory? Will St. Peter come get him? Will anyone? Is he alone? Is he alone for the rest of eternity? Why is everything so still, so silent? Didn't someone promise him they would protect him no matter what happened, in whispers at his bedside, holding his hand as he dozed? Can he go back to that, please?

A sound like a cracking of earthquakes booms through the air and he gasps, pushing himself right back into the corner, hands flinching towards his ears. A moment later, footsteps. He is so relieved he almost crumples. The monster does not come for him like this. The monster is just a color in the air and then the feeling of his throat being wrangled and his mouth and lungs filling up with smoke til his eyes go blank.

A shadow flickers through the barred gap in his wall. He steps cautiously forward. So does the newcomer.

Jameson tilts his head at the person who's come to join him. He is a lovely person, draped in jewelry, with long, neatly-tied up hair and eyes very blue, though, looking through the strange cat mask that covers most of his face, Jameson can see that they are reddened from crying. The stranger purses his lips at him and comes to a standstill on the other side of the bars, staring at him and holding a little orange box.

“What's wrong?” asks Jameson gently. “Cry?”

The stranger scoffs. Jameson glances around and finds that the exterior of his prison is even stranger than the interior. In every direction, an endless silver-white spread, and, in the middle of it, repeating again and again and again and again, infinitely, there is the reflection of the stranger and of himself trapped in this little wooden box, standing small behind the bars.

“Look, just... just...”

The stranger seems to be having a difficult time. Jameson smiles at him, encouraging him to go on.

“I'm sorry,” he spits out finally. “I am, I am. But I... have to do this. You know that. Because you're not safe and we can't keep you this way.”

Jameson steps back, holding his hands nervously together for a moment, fear settling back into place. “You – capture me?” ask his trembling fingers, though his tries to keep smiling. “Please, I cause no harm. I can go away if you let me. But please – ”

“There is no where but here that Anti couldn't use you to do horrible things.”

“No, please – ”

“This is to keep you safe just as much as anyone! You could die from over-use, from him constantly wasting your energy and getting into fights, murdering people...”

“I didn't do anything wrong, I want to get rid of him, you have to help me – ”

“Neither of us have a choice, that's all it comes down to! I'm going to take really good care of you, I mean that.”

Jameson is crying at last. Floodtides open. Too much, too much. Please, please. Not this. Not this on top of everything else.

“I'm so confused,” weep his hands. “All I can remember is being afraid with a few moments of peace in between. I don't know who I am or where I am or when I am and I don't like small spaces. I've been so alone, but yesterday, someone tried to help me. I want to go back to him! Please, I know it uses me to do cruel things. But I'll do anything to throw it off. I don't want to die in here. I need to find out who I am. I might have a family somewhere I just don't remember!” He buries his face in his hands and sobs, overcome.

And then, through the bars of the cage, soft hands reach out to hold his shoulders, and he is pulled forward, warm arms wrapping as far around him as they can go. His sobs dry out in the surprise of it, and looking up, he sees the stranger looking back at him, tired and ashamed and warm, warm despite his wariness, holding him.

Overwhelmed, hiccuping, Jameson puts his head down on the bars near to his chest and lets him rub his back.

“Listen to me,” he murmurs. “I am your family. Okay?”

“You are?”

“We look alike, don't we?”

Jameson sniffles and reaches up to touch his cheek, nodding quickly. Yes, they do.

“I'm your big brother.”

“I don't... remember... What's your name?”

“It's okay. The demon hurt you and now you don't remember me. It's not your fault. I know that, darling. You can just call me your brother, okay?”

Oh, he has a nice warm voice. Blueberry syrup.

“I know this is scary. But I've seen what this monster could do – to you, to everyone else. This was my last resort, but I don't know what else to do.”

“You... you're doing this to keep me safe? Where is this place? So it can't get me here?”

Maybe that would be okay. Maybe it would be worth it if it couldn't reach him here.

“It's a mirror dimension so you can't reach anyone else. I'm a magician.”

Jameson startles, but there's too much going on for him not to believe him.

“And... no, I'm sorry. He can still get to you in here. His connection to you is so strong, I haven't found a way to break it yet.” He strokes back Jameson's hair. “But he won't be able to get out and hurt anybody. Isn't that the right choice? Even if it is a sacrifice?”

“I can't... I can't just stay here forever!”

“No. I know. I'm going to figure this out for you. Magicians have a lot of spells and sigils and ceremonies and things like that. If I can find one to keep you safe from him, permanently, I'll use it and set you free.”

“How long will that take?”

“Oh, not long, honey, I'm sure not long. And I'm going to take care of you the whole time.”

He passes Jameson the little orange box. Granola bars. Eight of them. With little chocolate chips and peanuts.

“I didn't have a lot of time to prepare,” says Brother. “But I'm going to get more soon. Not just food – I'll sneak plenty to you – but a mattress, and decorations, and things for you to do. And I think I can make the box bigger if I put you to sleep a couple times.”

Put him to sleep?

Jameson frowns, his eyes flickering with the memory.

“You can have anything you need. You'll be safe. I'll take care of you.”

He backs away from the stranger.

“You – you grabbed me out of bed,” he signs, and here, after all the fear and breaking resilience, is a flame of anger. “You – I felt safe – I was with someone who was going to care for me already, and you – ”

“Please,” Brother says, a sneer returned to his voice. “You don't even know who that person was. If you had stayed with him any longer, you would have killed him like you almost killed Chase!”

No. No!

“Let me out!” screams Jameson. “This is a trap! You can't keep me here like this! I want to go to a priest! I want to go back to the man who was helping me! I want to feel safe for just one hour, just one moment of my life! No, you don't get to keep me like this! I'm going to find a way to be free of this demon, not just hidden away from the world like a weapon that can't be – that can't be – ”

“You'll come around,” murmurs Brother, nodding to himself. “You will. You're just scared right now, but you'll see that I take care of you and you'll come around. You'll be glad I didn't let anyone hurt... Jameson?”

Too late, he notices the movement in the air, flickers and buzzing, the temperature rising. The hairs on the back of his neck rise and warn him: storm close. Storm real close.

Jameson spasms and crumples to the ground, choking, and Marvin feels himself back away instead of moving forward. Jameson screams and writhes, tearing at invisible strings and thrashing, his mouth gagged open, and blood splatters down his face as his nose suddenly spurts blood, his eyes rolling back in his head. He slams against the floor like a seizure and Marvin can only steady himself, gritting his nails into his palms, and Antisepticeye rises before him.

For a moment, he stares at Marvin, black-eyed.

Then down at his stolen hands.

Then around him at the cage.

And then he begins to laugh, silent and breathy, chilling how quiet he is with that much hatred and humor in his shining, venomous eyes.

“You're trapped,” says Marvin, and victory rushes through him. “You're trapped! Even if you could get through the spells on the wood, you will never find the door. Only I know where the entrance is and this place is endless, endless, bigger than the world! You could wander a million years and not find the right place.”

“Fool – boy – that you are.”

Anti's signs are cold and jilted, like a mortician arranging dead, stiffened fingers.

“You have captured – the vessel. Well done, M-A-R-V-I-N. I always knew – you were more like me than the others.”

“Don't try to guilt me now,” laughs Marvin. “This is all the confirmation I needed. I was right. I've contained you! You'll never use him or his powers to hurt my family again.”

“You – were right,” confesses Anti, so easily that it makes Marvin's stomach squirm, or maybe it's the horrible smile piercing through his wide face that does it. “Well done. You've contained me.”

Marvin backs away, teeth bared. He doesn't want to indulge him. But he has to know.

“Why are you so smug about it?” he snaps. “I know the way you work, fucker.”

Anti mocks Jameson, putting his hands over his ears. “Language,” he protests, open his eyes sweetly, and then throwing his head back and laughing that silent laugh again.

“Oh, M-A-R-V-I-N. M-A-R-V-I-N the Magnificent, M-A-R-V-I-N the Fool. This boy can only see the past, but me – I see the future. And you will regret this moment – this night – that one, potent sleep spell – more than anything else you could ever imagine. Swear to you. You will regret this until your heart cannot be mended.”

It's Marvin's turn to laugh.

“Still making threats!” He claps his hands together, bouncing on his heels, overjoyed. When has he ever been able to stop Anti before this moment? When has he ever been able to be truly sure he's found a way to stop him? He will take care of the boy, he will. He will love Jameson like Chase and Henrik, given time. He'll just have to stay here. He'll have to be his secret. It's horrible, yes, and the guilt still rings through the back of his head – but it's worth it. It's worth it.

“Your words are empty,” he breathes, clutching his hands over his heart. “You are trapped here and you will never find the hiding place where I am keeping him, not from the outside. Your connection to him is purely cerebral. This dimension will be unreachable. No, Anti. No. You just can't admit that you've lost this battle. You will never make me regret this. I've won this time.”

He turns around, flicking his cape out behind him again, laughing as he goes, spinning in a circle once he's out of Anti's sight. Fuck, but he's glad. Fuck, but he did it. He did it. He will keep the newcomer safe and fuck over Anti all at once. Empty threats mean nothing to him. All is well. All is well.

“No,” signs Anti distantly, watching him walk away. “No, I won't be the one to make you regret it. But you will, Marvin. More than you can know.”

He pauses, glancing around the box.

Well. Nothing to do here.

He drops Jameson's body and leaves him to sob and gag and thrash and choke through the withdrawal alone. Blood drizzles from his eyes and stains the wood of Marvin's cage.

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

“Marvin! Marvin! He's gone, he's gone! I lost him! I lost him!”

“Jackie...”

“I woke up and he wasn't there, he wasn't there, Anti made me sleep, I didn't mean to!”

“I know you didn't. Sh, sh, calm down, tell me everything. Henrik, go check on Chase, he must be upset, I've got this... he must have slipped past all of us. It isn't your fault.”

“I promised him I would protect him! I swore it to him! And then – the next morning!”

“Jackie, fuck... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. You did your best. Come here, please, stop hurting yourself. It's okay, man. I'm going to help you find him!”

“Really?”

“Really. Oh, don’t cry. Of course! Jackie, we'll get him back soon. And then he'll be all the more relieved to see you.”

Jackie throws himself into Marvin's arms. Marvin wraps his arms around him and holds him close, feeling tears rise in his eyes yet again.

But he doesn't regret it.

“I'm sorry, Marv...”

“Don't be sorry.”

“We'll find him, won't we?”

“Of course! Of course. You and me. We'll get him back.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too. Don't worry, Jackie. Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay.”

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

Taken from the Marvin’s Cage AU: Marvin is the one keeping Jameson in the little puppet box so that Anti can’t use him to hurt his family. When Jackie finds out, he sets Jameson free and throws Marvin out of the house, cutting off all communication from him and leaving him to devolve into hatred and magical corruption. Jackie becomes ferociously over-protective and grieves the loss of his brother while Jameson is just trying to understand what it is that happened to him and learn to live a normal, happy life with the help of his  brothers.

While I do not have current plans to continue this AU and I work on it at random like most of my AUs, you will be able to request prompts and specific scenes for it the next time I open requests.

[jornthur]

“Unshaken” Chapter V

Originally posted: March 25, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

One week later …

The large male buck stood in front of him again, only this time it was in the middle of a shallow river, bending its head down to drink from it.

Arthur was standing right on the water’s edge facing toward the animal, the solid ground he stood on feeling soft beneath his boots. On the other side of the river he could see an endless, wide-open field of nothing but large grassy hills.

A heavy storm billowed in the distance beyond the land, thunder rumbling, causing the ground to shake beneath him. As he watched the dark clouds, they appeared to be drawing closer towards him and the deer.

Looking over his shoulder, Arthur could see nothing but heavy fog behind him, unable to see what lied beyond it. He turned back to look at the deer again, but it still hadn’t seemed to notice that he was there.

Arthur tried to move, but his body refused to obey. It was as if his mind were completely detached from his body. What the hell was going on?

Suddenly he started to feel like he was floating, and Arthur looked down to notice that the fog had begun to wrap around his feet, slowly engulfing his entire body as it crept up his legs, then his torso, until it was all but surrounding him. His body continued to be lifted from the ground as the fog started to pull him into it.

Just as he could barely see the deer through the mist, it lifted its head and looked at him again. But this time, its eyes were brown … almost like —

John’s.

Arthur’s heart stopped.

He reached out, starting to struggle against the fog’s hold, trying to stay with the deer. He tried to shout as loud as he could, “John!” His heart suddenly began to beat fast, the beats loud like drums in his ears. The more he fought the fog, the faster and louder they got.

The creature turned away, as if it hadn’t heard him, and it started making its way to the other side of the river, toward the storm.

“John!”

With the loudest and final beat, lightning struck between them, the sharp light blinding his vision.

Arthur snapped awake, breathing hard.

Sunlight was shining directly on his face through the window and he blinked hard, turning away so that the rays wouldn’t blind him.

Another dream, he thought, but this one had been different. Before this he’d been in the forest every time, with the deer always appearing near him. This time though … the location had been completely different. Two sides split by a body of water, and the deer … it had had John’s eyes.

Arthur groaned as he lifted a hand to rub at his face, trying to clear his mind. What the hell were these dreams trying to tell him, he wondered, or were they just a bunch of nonsense? He guessed the latter for the sake of his own sanity, what little was left of it. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on something like that when it probably meant nothing.

He sat up slowly, the blanket that had been covering him falling away and landing on the floor as he moved his legs over to hang off the side of the couch. He looked around at the cabin in an effort to remind himself where he was, taking in the sitting room, the fireplace, the door to Y/N’s office, the kitchen door across the room, the hallway over to the left that led to the bedrooms. He couldn’t see Y/N or Austin anywhere, so they were probably outside.

Nearly a whole month had passed since he’d been saved from that mountain and taken in, and by nothing short of a miracle he was still here … alive. It was still very difficult for him to grasp. He brought a hand up to rub at his chest. Over the last few days he’d stopped feeling any more pain there, his breathing barely taking any effort at all now.

And it was all thanks to Y/N, he thought. He smiled to himself, thinking about her. He didn’t deserve all that she’d done for him, and he knew it. Not after all the horrible things he’d done throughout his life.

His memories had been coming back together piece by piece ever since the herb and medicine doses had started being spaced out over the last week, and he couldn’t help but feel more lost from every memory that came back to him.

He remembered the gang. He remembered the friends he’d lost, all the years of his life he’d been with them.

They were all gone now …

He’d spent so much of his life in a gang he considered his family above everything else.

He thought about his old friends, wondering where they were now.

He thought about Dutch, how he’d spent so many years of his life staying loyal to him, doing all the dirty work he was told to do. He’d given him all he had … only to have the man leave him behind on that mountain in the end.

Then there was John, his own family, Abigail and their son Jack.

John had struggled for so long to accept who he was, and Arthur had sent him away, giving him a chance to lead a normal life with them. He’d deserved it more than anyone he knew.

He’d sacrificed his own life to save John’s in order for him to live the life Arthur never had.

Arthur remembered giving over his father’s hat to him before he’d left, never imagining that he would ever make it out alive.

Where was John now? Were he and his family safe?

Arthur lowered his head, grimacing at the mental pain and loss he felt. He couldn’t bear to think of John not having made it out alive. The fact that the satchel had been left behind was worrisome, had John dropped it by accident while he’d fled?

Arthur raised his head and looked over on the nightstand where his journal sat. Over the last several days he’d worked up the courage to read it, trying to remember every single thing he could from his past. There were so many entries he’d marked down about the things he’d seen, the places he’d been, the things he’d done. All those sketches … that journal was so overwhelming to look at each time he opened up the damn thing.

He reached out to grab it, opening it up to the last page he’d done. The entry that had been meant for John and his family.

Arthur took a deep breath, and couldn’t help the tear that escaped from his eye as he thought of his past, the tear leaving a wet trail behind on his cheek. He sniffed hard and shook his head.

You ain’t like this, he thought to himself. Really, he needed to believe that John had made it out of there, and that him and his family were now somewhere safe, away from the world’s troubles, living in peace.

Flipping the page over, he stared at the blank page, then wondered … where the hell was he going to go from here?

A loud banging started up, like a heavy hammer on wood. Arthur raised his head and looked out the window. It sounded like it was coming from outside, but from where he was sitting all he could see were trees through the thick glass.

He closed his journal and placed it back down on the nightstand.

Bracing his hands on his knees, Arthur pushed himself to his feet. He nearly lost his balance as he stood, but gained it back quickly by throwing his arms out to steady himself. He needed to start moving around soon, he thought. His body was starting to become soft. He’d gotten up several times during the past week to move around, but he really needed to do some kind of hard physical labor to get back into shape again. There was no doubt he could find something to do.

He ran a hand through his hair as he walked over to the mirror above the fireplace. Looking into it, he scratched at his thick beard. It was getting really long, and he really needed to trim it. Was there a razor lying around? Y/N’s brother had to have a few somewhere. He hated to rummage through their things, but he’d feel much better if his beard was shorter.

He made his way down the small hallway and opened one of the doors, only to be met with what was definitely Y/N’s bedroom. A single small bed sat on the other side of the room between two windows, floral-patterned bedding covering it. He quickly closed the door before he saw anything else, his face nearly heating. He’d mistaken the wrong door, clearly.

Turning around he tried the other door, and it was a small washing room. Here we go, he thought, spotting a razor on a small shelf below a large round mirror. He closed the door behind him and got to work on trimming his beard til it was about a third of an inch long, just how he preferred it.

Once he was finished he cleaned up and replaced everything back to where it had been before.

He walked back into the sitting room and picked the blanket up off the floor, folding it up and setting it over the back of the couch. Feeling useless, the least he could do was clean up after himself.

The banging noise still continued, and Arthur looked over at the window again. Walking over to it, he peered through to see what the source of the noise was. He spotted Austin pounding away at a fence post over by the stables, forcing the thing into the ground with a large hammer.

Arthur moved his head around, trying to see if he could spot Y/N anywhere until he finally saw her. She was in her garden, on her hands and knees working on her plants. She looked totally engrossed in her work, seeming not to pay any mind to anything around her but her garden.

He smiled to himself as he watched her. That brave woman had risked so much to save his life. She had such a caring heart, and if not for her he wouldn’t be here.

When she’d asked why he called her honey, he hadn’t been expecting the question, so his stupid self had given her only half of an answer. In all honesty it was a cute nickname for her, but he wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear the real reason. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was ready, he thought, feeling stupid.

Even though he’d asked her several days ago why she’d saved him, he had a feeling she hadn’t been entirely truthful with her response. He wasn’t even sure if she knew the answer herself. So they were both on equal ground, so to speak.

He still didn’t understand why she’d gone through so much to help him, a stranger, recover from his tuberculosis.

That thought brought another. The disease in him was dying, and he could feel the huge difference all throughout his body. He still had small coughing fits here and there, but they had gotten shorter and less painful over time, and there was no longer any blood. His body seemed to be successfully fighting off the bacteria with the help of all the medicine and herbs Y/N had given to him over the last few weeks.

Arthur stared at Y/N for a bit longer, and he couldn’t help but admit to himself how pretty she actually was. If he were honest with himself, he’d actually noticed how beautiful she was the first time he’d opened his eyes and seen her face, right before he’d given her his name.

He allowed himself to examine her features, taking her in. Her body was formed so nicely from all the physical work she did. Her thick hair was tied in a loose bun to keep it from getting dirty, her skin tanned from being out in the sun so much. And she was wearing jeans and a blouse along with leather boots instead of a dress.

Come to think of it, he thought, he’d never seen her in a dress. Did she even own any? He shook his head, clearing that thought. Why did that even matter? It wasn’t like he cared what sort of clothes she wore. Though he did have to admit … she did look damn good in the clothes she wore.

Arthur stepped back from the window and took a long breath, letting it out slowly. He shook himself mentally, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed to find something to do. But what?

He pondered for a minute until he looked at his journal. His eyes skimmed over to the desk in the office where the pencils that Y/N had mentioned to him were lying.

He rubbed at his jaw with his thumb and let out a sigh, trying to decide what to do.

After a long moment of thinking he finally gave in. He walked over to grab one of the pencils then came back into the sitting room. Heading over to the front door he snatched his journal up on the way and went outside.

Damn, the sun felt so good on his skin, he thought as he stepped out onto the porch, quiet so as not to disturb Y/N or Austin from their work. There was a bench swing over to the side and he went over to sit on it. It faced toward the garden so he was able to watch Y/N as she worked.

She definitely did look lovely, even covered in dirt, he thought with a small grin. He could tell that she really loved her plants by the way she treated them with those gentle hands. The same gentle hands that had worked so very hard to save him from death.

Arthur looked closer to see what she was working on. It was a Yarrow, a pretty one, too, it’s red petals bright in color and looking very healthy.

Opening his journal, he flipped to a blank page and brought the tip of his pencil to the paper. He didn’t even know if he could still draw after everything his mind and body had been through, but he damn well would try.

He lifted his head to look at Y/N several times to take in every detail as he started sketching.

•••••

You straightened and wiped at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, taking a moment to catch your breath. Your back was starting to hurt from being bent over for so long, but you didn’t care at the moment, only thinking about the plants and what they needed in order to thrive. They might as well have been your own children with all the time and effort you put into them, you thought with a small laugh to yourself.

Bending down again you dug at the dirt with your fingers, loosening the soil, then grabbed the large watering pail and sprinkled the cool water onto the loose ground.

“There ya go, fellas,” you said to the plants. It was a bit silly, sure, but you liked to believe that talking to them helped them to grow even more healthy and beautiful.

As you pruned a few more leaves, you started to feel like you were being watched.

You looked over your shoulder and saw Arthur sitting on the porch swing. You smiled to yourself, glad that he was feeling well enough to come outside.

It looked like he was working on something, and you looked closer to see what it was, it appeared that he was scribbling something in his journal with one of your pencils. It made you feel happy to know that he had taken you up on your offer.

Then you wondered what he was working on in that journal, and curiosity got the better of you. He appeared to be distracted, so you stood quickly and snuck around the back of the cabin.

•••••

Arthur looked up from his sketch to take in more details, and noticed that Y/N was gone. What the hell? He looked around, wondering where she’d went.

•••••

You snuck up behind Arthur, trying to be as quiet as you possibly could. He’d noticed you’d disappeared, and you knew he had excellent hearing, so you had to move quickly. Approaching from behind him you looked over his shoulder to see what he’d been working on.

Your heart stopped.

It was a drawing of you in your garden as you’d been working on your flowers … it was absolutely gorgeous.

“That’s so beautiful, Arthur,” you complimented softly.

Arthur jerked his head around, snapping his journal closed. “Y/N! You shouldn’t sneak up on a man like that,” he said teasingly, “You could get yourself in trouble.”

You let out a laugh, “Don’t be silly, Arthur, now let me look at that drawin’ again?”

Arthur lowered his eyes, as if he were thinking about your request and whether he wanted to deny it.

“Please?” You gave him a playful sad look, trying to appeal to his soft side.

He let out a groan-like huff and reluctantly opened the journal back to the drawing, holding it out for you to see.

You stepped around the bench and sat down next to him, taking the journal into your hands to get a better look.

The style was simple, yet detailed at the same time. The scribbles were heavy and light in certain areas, giving off the lighting and shading effects. He’d sketched out your garden and the trees in the background, and the lines of you body appeared to have been done with great care.

“Arthur, this is stunnin’, the way you draw … you have so much talent!”

Arthur reached an arm up to rub at the back of his neck, his expression looking shy, “Yeah, well, thought I might find somethin’ to do. Gets a bit borin’ in there.” He said with a deep chuckle.

You smiled up at him.

He returned the smile shyly, then he looked over at your garden. “So how long you been into plants?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

You turned your gaze to your garden, a small smile stretching your lips. “Pretty much my whole life,” you answered. “My mother actually got me into them when I was only four years old. At first I fell in love with flowers because of their beautiful colors, the way they all looked so different from each other.”

You could feel Arthur’s warm blue gaze on you, and you continued.

“I told my mother that I wanted to try to grow my own flower, and she helped me plant and nurture my first one, a white lily, from a seedling. When it finally bloomed, I was so happy. My mother told me that white lilies were known to protect other plants around them from diseases … ”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur straighten. “Is that right? Well, fancy that.”

You nearly laughed, realizing the double meaning your words actually had. “Yeah, well, after it became the first flower I grew, it also became my favorite. I even named my horse Lily. Unfortunately, I’ve never found any in this area, so I’m not able to grow any more.” You sighed, “But when I think about them, I think about my mother … all the love she had to offer for everyone.”

You felt tears welling in your eyes and you covered your face with your hands, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to — ”

You felt a large hand on your shoulder and your breath hitched. Arthur was trying to comfort you.

“Don’t be, Y/N. You’re alright, just breathe … ” his deep voice was soothing, and it calmed you down a little.

But then anger started simmering deep in your gut, and you couldn’t help the fury that began to boil in you. “She would still be alive if it wasn’t for them,” you spat out the last word.

Arthur’s hand moved to your back, running it up and down. “Who?”

Your eyes narrowed at the horrible memory. “They came during the night. It was just me and Mother, we’d been preparing supper for when Father and Austin came back, but then — ” you took in a shaky breath, “I heard a window break, and next thing I knew there were gunshots. There were three of them … my mother tried to fight them off, but they’d held me at gunpoint, and she’d surrendered. They tied us up and then interrogated her.

“They’d been looking for something, just shouting nonstop at her, but then … I don’t know why it happened, one of them .. they just shot her,” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling, you voice cracking. “My brother came through the door with a gun, and they fled.” You nearly growled the next words, “Those damnoutlaws!”

Arthur’s hand froze on your back, but you barely noticed it as rage began running through your entire body. “Those men killed her,” you said through gritted teeth, tears finally escaping your eyes. “I hate them, I hate all of them, every outlaw out there, I hate them with every part of my being!” You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hands.

Arthur’s body seemed to tense, and you raised your head to look up at him, suddenly worried for his health. “Are you alright, Arthur?”

His expression looked strange, but he just shook his head. “It’s nothin’.” He said, giving you a small smile of reassurance.

But his eyes told a different story …

“I’m so sorry for what you went through, honey,” Arthur said softly, “I know what it’s like to lose the ones you love.”

•••••

— To Be Continued

[nightingaletrash]

Roy has a LOOOOOOT of childer. Like, IIRC he adopts a lot? What's the story with each one and their relationship with Roy?

Ahhhh thank you!!! <3

I’ve narrowed his adopted childer to eight characters, who can be seen here.

In Leicester, to be a part of Roy’s ‘family’ or Inner Circle is seen as one of the most powerful positions that can be obtained, above even the city’s Primogen Council - there are some Kindred who serve him in the hopes of joining that circle, though the criteria for doing so is unclear with some having worked hard for their positions, and others being adopted (seemingly) on a whim.

As a mortal, Victoria was actually Roy’s step-daughter, and at some point she figured out that her cruel step-father wasn’t what he seemed. She went as far as trying to murder him many times over in a variety of ways - poison, stabbing, exposure to sunlight, staking him etc - only to fail due to bad luck, inaccurate knowledge or her mother’s intervention. Roy was impressed with her tenacity and cunning, as well as her ability to keep her mother from telling anyone about her attempts on Roy’s life, and so he offered her the Embrace when she came of age. At first she refused out of stubbornness, but as she became increasingly aware of the danger and cruelty of the world, she changed her mind and allowed Roy to ghoul her. She was nearly a hundred years old when Roy Embraced her, and to this day she’s his only Embraced childe. He considers her his heir and often leaves her in charge of running the city as Prince-Regent when he’s preoccupied with his Cleaver lifestyle or when he just doesn’t feel like doing his job. Victoria went from despising Roy to affectionately considering him her true father, and she has the utmost respect for him. In return, Roy puts an unusual amount of trust in her as she is the only one of his childer who is not blood bound to him. She gets on best with Delilah, Beaker and Charter. She generally looks down on the rest of her siblings for one reason or another.

Delilah was illegally Embraced as part of a plan for a coup against the Chantry Regent and Tremere Primogen, Aliyah Tempor. When she and her sire were caught along with their co-conspirators, they were brought to the Athena for trial. Delilah was the sole survivor, having been spared by Roy on account of her being a Fledgling who hadn’t known better, a ruling that Aliyah agreed with... until Roy decided to take Delilah into his family circle instead of surrendering her to the Pyramid. It turned out that Delilah had been on a list of potential candidates for the Embrace given her occult knowledge, and by adopting her, Roy allowed her to exist outside of the Pyramid. Delilah’s unusual freedom made her a controversial figure among the Tremere. She routinely partners with Victoria, whose professionalism she enjoys, and she has coordinated with Gina to help her locate thinbloods and caitiff in the city. The two get on surprisingly well, considering the bad blood between the Fiends and the Usurpers.

Gina is a bit of a mystery, being a Camarilla Tzimisce who prefers to keep to herself most of the time and rarely speaks unless necessary. Only Roy knows where she came from exactly, and she serves as his Sheriff with brutal efficiency. Her methods of killing depend on the crime being punished - thinbloods and caitiff get quick, clean deaths, while traitors are turned into furniture. The thing that stands out about her most is her intolerance for other Tzimisce - if she learns of any in the city, she will stop at nothing to drive them out or destroy them. She has never revealed why she hates her clanmates so much, but it always takes priority over all else. No investigation, no task and no order is important enough to stay her hand when another Fiend is in the area. Outwardly Gina might seem indifferent to her family, but in reality she is very passionate about upholding the family and the city’s stability. She says she is grateful to Roy for saving her, though that might be the Blood Bond talking.

David was Embraced into the Sabbat, but he betrayed them for the Camarilla due to philosophical disagreements among other things. The exact terms of his deal are murky, but in order to receive protection, David had to agree to become a part of the family. In 1986 he illegally Embraced a childe, an employee of his who was killed in a Sabbat raid, though he received retroactive permission from Roy who saw the benefit in letting the ambitious and driven David pursuing his own goals... within reason. Five years later, David received permission from Roy to return to his home city of Detroit to claim praxis and become a Prince. His reign was brought to an abrupt end by a Sabbat assassin in 1997. Roy was disappointed in David crashing and burning so quickly, as he’d hoped to exercise some influence in the US, but ultimately he got over the loss relatively quickly.

Beaker and Charter are Nosferatu twins, having been together from birth til death and beyond. Beaker is a politically-minded individual; he appreciates smart business wear, efficiency, and intrigue. His sister, Charter, however plays the role of a street-side information broker and low-level Camarilla crony. Most Kindred outside the Nosferatu clan would be shocked to discover that the well-dressed Beaker would even dream of associating with Charter and her thread-bare denim jackets and ratty converse and the twins use this to their advantage, with Charter feeding information on her clients to Beaker and Victoria. While the two aren’t always physically together, they are dependent on one another in many ways. They’re closer with each other than they are with their other siblings, though Beaker has a great deal of respect for Victoria. They don’t tend to have much direct contact with Roy, but they respect him and follow his orders and address him as Father, though this could be a result of their blood bond.

Leon was Embraced by an Anarch Brujah that wanted to drive the Camarilla out of Leicester. However Leon deeply resented not only his sire, but the lack of forethought the Anarchs showed or concern they had for the young Kindred of the city who’d likely suffer or be destroyed as a result of the revolt. He murdered his sire to prove himself to the Camarilla, and it earned him Roy’s attention. In order to gain an invitation to join Roy’s family, Leon played an instrumental role in undermining the Anarch uprising by sharing everything he knew about about them and burning out their havens. He doesn’t get along with most of his siblings as his short-temper makes him a difficult person to be around at times, but he has a soft spot for Lisa. He possessed a near overwhelming loyalty to Roy for giving him a purpose.

Lisa was illegally Embraced in 2000 at the height of a whirlwind romance which resulted in her sire’s execution. Roy showed her mercy and adopted her into the family. Her tasks usually revolve around gathering information and manipulating pawns and informants to further Roy’s plans - her sense of empathy and compassion make her an excellent manipulator, though she still possesses a sense of right and wrong that her siblings have since lost and her emotions sometimes come into conflict with the family’s goals. Even so her cunning and subtlty serve her well when she is in need of them. She generally gets on with most of her siblings, though there is an understanding between herself and Delilah given the nature of their Embraces. Roy had her loyalty and affection for his apparent caring and warm facade, but once she began to see through it, she resisted her blood bond and began to plot against him.

[the-mill-kat]

Unshaken Chapter V

Arthur Morgan x Reader (18+) Slow-Burn

And alas, Chapter 5 is here! Please, if you enjoy it, please ***like/comment/and-or-reblog***, every piece of feedback matters so much, comments really make my day! Thank you for your love and support for Unshaken!

(Photo credit: the-mill-kat)

You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

One week later …

The large male deer stood in front of him again, only this time it was in the middle of a shallow river, bending its head down to drink from it.

Arthur was standing right on the water’s edge facing toward the animal, the solid ground he stood on feeling soft beneath his boots. On the other side of the river he could see an endless, wide-open field of nothing but large grassy hills.

A heavy storm billowed in the distance beyond the land, thunder rumbling, causing the ground to shake beneath him. As he watched the dark clouds, they appeared to be drawing closer towards him and the deer.

Looking over his shoulder, Arthur could see nothing but heavy fog behind him, unable to see what lied beyond it. He turned back to look at the deer again, but it still hadn’t seemed to notice that he was there.

Arthur tried to move, but his body refused to obey. It was as if his mind were completely detached from his body. What the hell was going on?

Suddenly he started to feel like he was floating, and Arthur looked down to notice that the fog had begun to wrap around his feet, slowly engulfing his entire body as it crept up his legs, then his torso, until it was all but surrounding him. His body continued to be lifted from the ground as the fog started to pull him into it.

Just as he could barely see the deer through the mist, it lifted its head and looked at him again. But this time, its eyes were brown … almost like —

John’s.

Arthur’s heart stopped.

He reached out, starting to struggle against the fog’s hold, trying to stay with the deer. He tried to shout as loud as he could, “John!” His heart suddenly began to beat fast, the beats loud like drums in his ears. The more he fought the fog, the faster and louder they got.

The creature turned away, as if it hadn’t heard him, and it started making its way to the other side of the river, toward the storm.

“John!”

With the loudest and final beat, lightning struck between them, the sharp light blinding his vision.

Arthur snapped awake, breathing hard.

Sunlight was shining directly on his face through the window and he blinked hard, turning away so that the rays wouldn’t blind him.

Another dream, he thought, but this one had been different. Before this he’d been in the forest every time, with the deer always appearing near him. This time though … the location had been completely different. Two sides split by a body of water, and the deer … it had had John’s eyes.

Arthur groaned as he lifted a hand to rub at his face, trying to clear his mind. What the hell were these dreams trying to tell him, he wondered, or were they just a bunch of nonsense? He guessed the latter for the sake of his own sanity, what little was left of it. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on something like that when it probably meant nothing.

He sat up slowly, the blanket that had been covering him falling away and landing on the floor as he moved his legs over to hang off the side of the couch. He looked around at the cabin in an effort to remind himself where he was, taking in the sitting room, the fireplace, the door to Y/N’s office, the kitchen door across the room, the hallway over to the left that led to the bedrooms. He couldn’t see Y/N or Austin anywhere, so they were probably outside.

Nearly a whole month had passed since he’d been saved from that mountain and taken in, and by nothing short of a miracle he was still here … alive. It was still very difficult for him to grasp. He brought a hand up to rub at his chest. Over the last few days he’d stopped feeling any more pain there, his breathing barely taking any effort at all now.

And it was all thanks to Y/N, he thought. He smiled to himself, thinking about her. He didn’t deserve all that she’d done for him, and he knew it. Not after all the horrible things he’d done throughout his life.

His memories had been coming back together piece by piece ever since the herb and medicine doses had started being spaced out over the last week, and he couldn’t help but feel more lost from every memory that came back to him.

He remembered the gang. He remembered the friends he’d lost, all the years of his life he’d been with them.

They were all gone now …

He’d spent so much of his life in a gang he considered his family above everything else.

He thought about his old friends, wondering where they were now.

He thought about Dutch, how he’d spent so many years of his life staying loyal to him, doing all the dirty work he was told to do. He’d given him all he had ... only to have the man leave him behind on that mountain in the end.

Then there was John, his own family, Abigail and their son Jack.

John had struggled for so long to accept who he was, and Arthur had sent him away, giving him a chance to lead a normal life with them. He’d deserved it more than anyone he knew.

He’d sacrificed his own life to save John’s in order for him to live the life Arthur never had.

Arthur remembered giving over his father’s hat to him before he’d left, never imagining that he would ever make it out alive.

Where was John now? Were he and his family safe?

Arthur lowered his head, grimacing at the mental pain and loss he felt. He couldn’t bear to think of John not having made it out alive. The fact that the satchel had been left behind was worrisome, had John dropped it by accident while he’d fled?

Arthur raised his head and looked over on the nightstand where his journal sat. Over the last several days he’d worked up the courage to read it, trying to remember every single thing he could from his past. There were so many entries he’d marked down about the things he’d seen, the places he’d been, the things he’d done. All those sketches … that journal was so overwhelming to look at each time he opened up the damn thing.

He reached out to grab it, opening it up to the last page he’d done. The entry that had been meant for John and his family.

Arthur took a deep breath, and couldn’t help the tear that escaped from his eye as he thought of his past, the tear leaving a wet trail behind on his cheek. He sniffed hard and shook his head.

You ain’t like this, he thought to himself. Really, he needed to believe that John had made it out of there, and that him and his family were now somewhere safe, away from the world’s troubles, living in peace.

Flipping the page over, he stared at the blank page, then wondered … where the hell was he going to go from here?

A loud banging started up, like a heavy hammer on wood. Arthur raised his head and looked out the window. It sounded like it was coming from outside, but from where he was sitting all he could see were trees through the thick glass.

He closed his journal and placed it back down on the nightstand.

Bracing his hands on his knees, Arthur pushed himself to his feet. He nearly lost his balance as he stood, but gained it back quickly by throwing his arms out to steady himself. He needed to start moving around soon, he thought. His body was starting to become soft. He’d gotten up several times during the past week to move around, but he really needed to do some kind of hard physical labor to get back into shape again. There was no doubt he could find something to do.

He ran a hand through his hair as he walked over to the mirror above the fireplace. Looking into it, he scratched at his thick beard. It was getting really long, and he really needed to trim it. Was there a razor lying around? Y/N’s brother had to have a few somewhere. He hated to rummage through their things, but he’d feel much better if his beard was shorter.

He made his way down the small hallway and opened one of the doors, only to be met with what was definitely Y/N’s bedroom. A single small bed sat on the other side of the room between two windows, floral-patterned bedding covering it. He quickly closed the door before he saw anything else, his face nearly heating. He’d mistaken the wrong door, clearly.

Turning around he tried the other door, and it was a small washing room. Here we go, he thought, spotting a razor on a small shelf below a large round mirror. He closed the door behind him and got to work on trimming his beard til it was about a third of an inch long, just how he preferred it.

Once he was finished he cleaned up and replaced everything back to where it had been before.

He walked back into the sitting room and picked the blanket up off the floor, folding it up and setting it over the back of the couch. Feeling useless, the least he could do was clean up after himself.

The banging noise still continued, and Arthur looked over at the window again. Walking over to it, he peered through to see what the source of the noise was. He spotted Austin pounding away at a fence post over by the stables, forcing the thing into the ground with a large hammer.

Arthur moved his head around, trying to see if he could spot Y/N anywhere until he finally saw her. She was in her garden, on her hands and knees working on her plants. She looked totally engrossed in her work, seeming not to pay any mind to anything around her but her garden.

He smiled to himself as he watched her. That brave woman had risked so much to save his life. She had such a caring heart, and if not for her he wouldn’t be here.

When she’d asked why he called her honey, he hadn’t been expecting the question, so his stupid self had given her only half of an answer. In all honesty it was a cute nickname for her, but he wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear the real reason. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was ready, he thought, feeling stupid.

Even though he’d asked her several days ago why she’d saved him, he had a feeling she hadn’t been entirely truthful with her response. He wasn’t even sure if she knew the answer herself. So they were both on equal ground, so to speak.

He still didn’t understand why she’d gone through so much to help him, a stranger, recover from his tuberculosis.

That thought brought another. The disease in him was dying, and he could feel the huge difference all throughout his body. He still had small coughing fits here and there, but they had gotten shorter and less painful over time, and there was no longer any blood. His body seemed to be successfully fighting off the bacteria with the help of all the medicine and herbs Y/N had given to him over the last few weeks.

Arthur stared at Y/N for a bit longer, and he couldn’t help but admit to himself how pretty she actually was. If he were honest with himself, he’d actually noticed how beautiful she was the first time he’d opened his eyes and seen her face, right before he’d given her his name.

He allowed himself to examine her features, taking her in. Her body was formed so nicely from all the physical work she did. Her thick hair was tied in a loose bun to keep it from getting dirty, her skin tanned from being out in the sun so much. And she was wearing jeans and a blouse along with leather boots instead of a dress.

Come to think of it, he thought, he’d never seen her in a dress. Did she even own any? He shook his head, clearing that thought. Why did that even matter? It wasn’t like he cared what sort of clothes she wore. Though he did have to admit ... she did look damn good in the clothes she wore.

Arthur stepped back from the window and took a long breath, letting it out slowly. He shook himself mentally, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed to find something to do. But what?

He pondered for a minute until he looked at his journal. His eyes skimmed over to the desk in the office where the pencils that Y/N had mentioned to him were lying.

He rubbed at his jaw with his thumb and let out a sigh, trying to decide what to do.

After a long moment of thinking he finally gave in. He walked over to grab one of the pencils then came back into the sitting room. Heading over to the front door he snatched his journal up on the way and went outside.

Damn, the sun felt so good on his skin, he thought as he stepped out onto the porch, quiet so as not to disturb Y/N or Austin from their work. There was a bench swing over to the side and he went over to sit on it. It faced toward the garden so he was able to watch Y/N as she worked.

She definitely did look lovely, even covered in dirt, he thought with a small grin. He could tell that she really loved her plants by the way she treated them with those gentle hands. The same gentle hands that had worked so very hard to save him from death.

Arthur looked closer to see what she was working on. It was a Yarrow, a pretty one, too, it’s red petals bright in color and looking very healthy.

Opening his journal, he flipped to a blank page and brought the tip of his pencil to the paper. He didn’t even know if he could still draw after everything his mind and body had been through, but he damn well would try.

He lifted his head to look at Y/N several times to take in every detail as he started sketching.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You straightened and wiped at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, taking a moment to catch your breath. Your back was starting to hurt from being bent over for so long, but you didn’t care at the moment, only thinking about the plants and what they needed in order to thrive. They might as well have been your own children with all the time and effort you put into them, you thought with a small laugh to yourself.

Bending down again you dug at the dirt with your fingers, loosening the soil, then grabbed the large watering pail and sprinkled the cool water onto the loose ground.

“There ya go, fellas,” you said to the plants. It was a bit silly, sure, but you liked to believe that talking to them helped them to grow even more healthy and beautiful.

As you pruned a few more leaves, you started to feel like you were being watched.

You looked over your shoulder and saw Arthur sitting on the porch swing. You smiled to yourself, glad that he was feeling well enough to come outside.

It looked like he was working on something, and you looked closer to see what it was, it appeared that he was scribbling something in his journal with one of your pencils. It made you feel happy to know that he had taken you up on your offer.

Then you wondered what he was working on in that journal, and curiosity got the better of you. He appeared to be distracted, so you stood quickly and snuck around the back of the cabin.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Arthur looked up from his sketch to take in more details, and noticed that Y/N was gone. What the hell? He looked around, wondering where she’d went.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You snuck up behind Arthur, trying to be as quiet as you possibly could. He’d noticed you’d disappeared, and you knew he had excellent hearing, so you had to move quickly. Approaching from behind him you looked over his shoulder to see what he’d been working on.

Your heart stopped.

It was a drawing of you in your garden as you’d been working on your flowers … it was absolutely gorgeous.

“That’s so beautiful, Arthur,” you complimented softly.

Arthur jerked his head around, snapping his journal closed. “Y/N! You shouldn’t sneak up on a man like that,” he said teasingly, “You could get yourself in trouble.”

You let out a laugh, “Don’t be silly, Arthur, now let me look at that drawin’ again?”

Arthur lowered his eyes, as if he were thinking about your request and whether he wanted to deny it.

“Please?” You gave him a playful sad look, trying to appeal to his soft side.

He let out a groan-like huff and reluctantly opened the journal back to the drawing, holding it out for you to see.

You stepped around the bench and sat down next to him, taking the journal into your hands to get a better look.

The style was simple, yet detailed at the same time. The scribbles were heavy and light in certain areas, giving off the lighting and shading effects. He’d sketched out your garden and the trees in the background, and the lines of you body appeared to have been done with great care.

“Arthur, this is stunnin’, the way you draw … you have so much talent!”

Arthur reached an arm up to rub at the back of his neck, his expression looking shy, “Yeah, well, thought I might find somethin’ to do. Gets a bit borin’ in there.” He said with a deep chuckle.

You smiled up at him.

He returned the smile shyly, then he looked over at your garden. “So how long you been into plants?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

You turned your gaze to your garden, a small smile stretching your lips. “Pretty much my whole life,” you answered. “My mother actually got me into them when I was only four years old. At first I fell in love with flowers because of their beautiful colors, the way they all looked so different from each other.”

You could feel Arthur’s warm blue gaze on you, and you continued.

“I told my mother that I wanted to try to grow my own flower, and she helped me plant and nurture my first one, a white lily, from a seedling. When it finally bloomed, I was so happy. My mother told me that white lilies were known to protect other plants around them from diseases … ”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Arthur straighten. “Is that right? Well, fancy that.”

You nearly laughed, realizing the double meaning your words actually had. “Yeah, well, after it became the first flower I grew, it also became my favorite. I even named my horse Lily. Unfortunately, I’ve never found any in this area, so I’m not able to grow any more.” You sighed, “But when I think about them, I think about my mother … all the love she had to offer for everyone.”

You felt tears welling in your eyes and you covered your face with your hands, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to — ”

You felt a large hand on your shoulder and your breath hitched. Arthur was trying to comfort you.

“Don’t be, Y/N. You’re alright, just breathe ... ” his deep voice was soothing, and it calmed you down a little.

But then anger started simmering deep in your gut, and you couldn’t help the fury that began to boil in you. “She would still be alive if it wasn’t for them,” you spat out the last word.

Arthur's hand moved to your back, running it up and down. “Who?”

Your eyes narrowed at the horrible memory. “They came during the night. It was just me and Mother, we’d been preparing supper for when Father and Austin came back, but then — ” you took in a shaky breath, “I heard a window break, and next thing I knew there were gunshots. There were three of them … my mother tried to fight them off, but they’d held me at gunpoint, and she’d surrendered. They tied us up and then interrogated her.

“They’d been looking for something, just shouting nonstop at her, but then ... I don’t know why it happened, one of them .. they just shot her,” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling, you voice cracking. “My brother came through the door with a gun, and they fled.” You nearly growled the next words, “Those damn outlaws!”

Arthur’s hand froze on your back, but you barely noticed it as rage began running through your entire body. “Those men killed her,” you said through gritted teeth, tears finally escaping your eyes. “I hate them, I hate all of them, every outlaw out there, I hate them with every part of my being!” You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hands.

Arthur’s body seemed to tense, and you raised your head to look up at him, suddenly worried for his health. “Are you alright, Arthur?”

His expression looked strange, but he just shook his head. “It’s nothin’.” He said, giving you a small smile of reassurance.

But his eyes told a different story …

“I’m so sorry for what you went through, honey,” Arthur said softly, “I know what it’s like to lose the ones you love.”

— To Be Continued

[bucketslutz]

Get Out the Way

Chapter 2: You're a bounty hunter, start acting like it

Summary: You were successful as a bounty hunter for a while, and now as a skilled fighter working in an arena. You were craving excitement, until a Mandalorian crosses your path and offers you the opportunity to help bring his kid back and avenge the death of someone you lost long ago. Working with the bucket-head, though, isn't going as smoothly as you thought. Will it all be worth it in the end?

You can read Get Out the Way on AO3 here.

Warnings: 18+ only pls, violence, gore, language, bounty hunting, enemies to lovers sorta, slow burn af, banter, grogu in danger, AFAB reader, badass female reader, yes reader is a bounty hunter, smut eventually but for now they hate each other

Chapter Summary: Mando and Reader continue on their journey to obtain the child.

This had to have been the worst fucking idea you’ve ever had in your life, and you’ve done some pretty dumb shit. Metal head went out of his way to ask for your help, and won’t even let you do anything. Flight check? No, you’re “not the co-pilot.” Hyperspace coordinates? Nope, “I didn’t hire you to punch in numbers.” Recalibrate the distributors? “I don’t need your help.” Well, for someone who was very eager to get your help on this mission, he really hates letting you help with virtually anything. You feel useless. You’ve scrubbed your blasters at least four times since entering hyperspace. You don’t think they were even this shiny when you bought them. No amount of credits in the republic could be worth this. Maker, you’ve not even left hyperspace and you’re already wanting to wring out his neck. He’s always so unnervingly quiet. You can never tell what he’s thinking or when he’s looking at you. You know he’s there and that he must think and feel like you do, but he might as well be a moving statue.

“Dank farrik,” you curse to yourself after you accidentally nick your finger on a jagged edge of your blaster. You exhale, trying to keep yourself collected, and get up off of one of the crates you were sitting on in the hull of the ship. Crossing to the other side of the hull, you open the compartment that holds the first aid kit so you can address your wound. As you dig through the kit for the bandages, you try to ignore the sound of boots descending the ladder. The footsteps grow louder and it takes everything in you to not tell Mando to go fuck off somewhere else and stop micromanaging everything you do. That’s another thing, ever since you stepped foot on this ship, he double or triple checks everything you do. He checked the shipyards at least five times to make sure you brought all the camtonos inside the crest. It’s been driving you up a wall. He gave you the impression that he had complete faith in you and your abilities, but won’t let you do anything without him checking up on you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, simply. There’s no anger in his voice, he’s not accusing you or anything. He seems to be asking out of pure curiosity.

“Nothing. It’s not important,” you dismiss him with a wave of your hand as you’re still digging through the first aid kit for just one bandage to wrap your finger in. “Where the fuck is it?” you hiss under your breath. Mando is still standing by you, and it’s kind of weirding you out. What does he want? Is he laughing at you? Does he find your current state pitiful; bloody hand, frustrated tone, and desperate searching? You can’t understand a single fucking thing about him with that stupid helmet on and it kills you. You finally slam your hand on the edge of the first aid kit and glare up at the helmet that’s been fixed on you for the past two minutes. “May I help you with something?” Your tone is sharp enough to pierce the beskar.

“It looks like you need my help more than I need yours.” Maker, is that why he’s hovering? Why didn’t he just fucking say that in the first place! He makes everything so unnecessarily difficult for no reason. Why can’t he make up his mind on whether he wants you to not do anything or help you with everything? Before you can reply snarkily to his answer, he reaches above your head and into the compartment that held the first aid kit. He digs through it for a moment, then pulls out a box full of bandages. You can’t see his face, but you’re sure he’s smiling smugly underneath his helmet. You wish you could wipe that smile off of his face with the cold, metal floor of the ship. He takes a few steps backwards before turning towards the ladder leading to the cockpit.

“We should be dropping out of hyperspace in about two days, I suggest you get some sleep while you can,” Mando turns to you to say before climbing up the ladder and disappearing above you. Sighing in defeat, you close the first aid kit shut and stuff it back into the compartment above your head, the box of bandages following shortly. He makes you feel so damn stupid. You’re capable, and he is fully aware of that fact. But he has absolutely no faith in  you. Why would he hire you if he didn’t trust you? Have I even given him a reason to trust me? You think to yourself. Dank Farrik. You used to work for Wraak. You used to work for the man who just kidnapped his kid. He must think you still have some weird devotion to him. But can you blame him? All of Wraak’s minions have an obscene devotion to him that’s cult-like. But you don’t, especially after what he did. You want to see him suffer. But you’re not so sure that shiny knows that. Why would he trust you? You haven’t done anything to prove that you deserve his respect. What are you supposed to do? Kiss his ass and tell him how great he is? You won’t stoop that low for any man. No, not until he starts treating you like an equal. But you don’t think you both will get anything done if you don’t learn to trust each other, and you’re not so sure how you can fix that. You’re beginning to feel like shouldn’t have gone on this mission. Maybe you should just take up Mando’s advice and get some rest.

…

The sound of boots descending a ladder wakes you and you groan. Realizing the position that you settled in left a dull ache in your lower back, you arch your spine hearing it crack under the pressure. The pain in your lower back immediately puts you in a sour mood. Maker, with that armor it’d be a miracle if he could infiltrate Wraak’s base without alerting all of his men and the rest of the galaxy. He must’ve realized that he woke you up because he’s standing at the bottom of the ladder waiting to see if you’ll say something to him. Or at least you think that’s why he’s standing there. Anything’s possible when that helmet is on. He crosses to the other side of the hull where his cot is concealed.

“Oh, are you going to bed? Fantastic. Good for you, bucket-head. At least one of us can get some sleep around here,” you snide sarcastically. You stand up from your place on the floor and brush past Mando and up the ladder leading to the cockpit. As you climb, you hear the door leading to the cot slide open then promptly closed. You shut yourself in the cockpit, lit only by the control panel and the blue ambiance of hyperspace, and curse as you kick the side of the pilots chair in frustration. Maybe you’re just cranky from the lack of sleep, maybe you’re tired of Mando being the elusive womp-rat that he is. But you’re really feeling like a complete and utter idiot for taking this job. What made you think you could work alongside someone like him? Or work with anyone, for that matter. In all your years of bounty hunting, you never worked with someone else to obtain a bounty. You know what you’re doing, you don’t need some pompous asshole telling you where to go and what to do. You wouldn’t have made it so far in the guild if you weren’t capable. You probably could’ve killed Wraak without Mando’s help. Who gives a shit if he thinks you’re a skilled hunter? As flattering as it may be that a Mandalorian is impressed by your skills, you’re still stronger on your own. If you didn’t have to sell your ship, you could’ve made it to Wraak’s base faster than this garbage dump he considers a gunship. Glancing at the array of controls in front of you, something catches your eye, or rather the lack of something catches your eye. The knob that controls the auxiliary thrusters is missing. Finding it odd that someone as thorough as Mando could misplace something like that, you decide that instead of moping around you could go find it instead. A distraction would do you good, hell, maybe he might finally think you’re useful. You check the seat of the pilot’s chair for the knob along with the passenger seats, but they all were empty. You scanned the floor quickly, still not seeing any sign of it. You turn towards the control panel then take a few steps back so you’re able to get a wider view of the cockpit. Your eyes scanned the small space from corner to corner, the ship humming as it traversed through hyperspace, finally, your eye caught something laying underneath the control panel. You get down on your hands and knees and crawl underneath the panel. Reaching for the silver orb, you grin once you grab it. But like the idiot you are, you forget that you’re crouching for a reason, and attempt to stand up quickly. You’re reminded of your position in the cockpit when your head meets the edge of the control panel with a loud thud, forcing your chin into your chest awkwardly.

“ OW!” you shout in pain. “FUCK!” You can hear your voice carry through the tiny space you’ve been occupying, and you lean back till your ass hits the floor. You wince as you nurse the growing bump on the back of your head. You were too preoccupied with your new head injury, that you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps up the ladder and the door to the cockpit hiss open.

“What did you do?” Mando’s modulated voice calls when he enters.

“Oh I made cookies, you want some?” you replied feigning a perky disposition, you crane your neck behind you to look up at the armored man. The helmet tilts in a way that can only mean “Really? Are you kidding me?” and you continue, “I hit my head, what does it look like, smartass.”

He extends a hand to help you up, and you wave him off and use the pilots chair as leverage to stand up instead; you remain nursing the back of your head with the hand that’s still holding that stupid silver ball. You huff in vexation once you get back on your feet and glare up at Mando’s stupidly covered face. Even if I could see your face, it would still be a stupid face, you think to yourself. You reach over to the lever to put the knob back where it belonged when Mando suddenly and harshly grabs your wrist. He stares at your hand for a moment as he holds your wrist in a death grip. You wince at the offending pressure and try to jerk away from his hold on you.

“Don’t touch my ship,” he barks, then he rips the small orb from your hand and tucks it somewhere in his utility belt. That’s the most emotion you’ve gotten from him since you met him, and it’s over a stupid silver ball? You gape at him, angrily, and he turns to leave the cockpit but you stop him. “What the hell is wrong with you? You went out of your fucking way to hire me for this mission, you haven’t let me do anything to help you at all, and now you’re mad at me for a stupid little knob? Why can’t you just trust me?”

“I do trust you,” he replies, turning around to face you, and suddenly more composed than you are.

“That’s a load of Bantha shit,” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. He suddenly crosses to you in only two strides and the helmet stares down at you. From this angle, your height difference is even more palpable.

“I hired you to help me get my kid back and kill Wraak,” he finally asserts, his finger poking the top of your sternum and his helmet only a few inches from your face. “That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. You’re not a co-pilot, you’re not an engineer, you’re a bounty hunter. Start acting like it.” His tone pierced your skull and replaced the sharp pain nestled in the back of your head. Storming off in a cloud of anger and frustration he turns and exits the cockpit, smacking the controls to the door and you watch as it hisses shut. He stomps down the ladder and you feel like punching yourself in the face. I’m an idiot. Of course, he hired you for your skills. He doesn’t need a fucking co-pilot or an engineer. He needs another bounty hunter. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You don’t know why, but him expressing disappointment in you stings. In thinking he had no faith in you, you realized that in actuality you had no faith in him. I should apologize to him. Yelling at him got me no where. If you’re going to work with him you need to start tolerating each other. Mando is a blunt person. Whatever he says, is exactly what he means. There’s no guessing with him, and you’re not used to that. There’s always an ulterior motive with other people; a hidden clause you didn’t sign up for. But for someone as secretive as he is, he somehow manages to be completely honest with his words. And you’re an idiot for thinking he meant anything other than exactly what he said. You should apologize.

…

 It’s been two days and you haven’t apologized. You haven’t even said a word to each other since the argument in the cockpit. You hope he doesn’t think you’re cowardice for not apologizing yet; you’re not even sure if he expects an apology. If he’s anything, he’s a man of few words, so maybe if you don’t say anything to him everything will be fine. Right? That’s going to be the plan, you’re going to ignore him unless it’s life or death. It’s not like you’ll need to be having any in-depth conversations about anything. This is strictly a business endeavor, nothing more, nothing less. You’re pulled from your thoughts when Mando approaches you and sits on a crate across from you in the hull. He pulls what looks like a bounty puck from his pocket and flicks it on. The face projected is familiar, it takes you a few moments to process who exactly it is. Once it clicks, you look up at him in confusion; your brow furrowed and you silently shrug a “what about it?” in response.

“This is who we’re going to be seeing on Numidian Prime. You know him?” Mando asks as he sets the puck down on a crate that’s nestled in front of you both.

“Well, of course. That’s Brehan, he was Wraak’s right hand man for years. Last I heard he retired and settled in the Mid Rim,” you responded. You were curious as to where Mando was going with this. If there was a bounty on Brehan, you would’ve known about it and took care of it. “But I don’t know if I can recall there being a bounty on his head.”

“There’s not,” he states simply. You tilt your head and raise your brows in surprise.

“Oh?” You lean forward in an attempt to urge him on to elaborate.

“I had Karga program a fake puck. We’re taking this to Numidian Prime and you’re going to show this to him. We want Brehan to think there’s a bounty on his head.”

“Why would we want him to think there’s a bounty on his head?” you ask, your forearms now resting on the tops of your thighs as you lean forward, still not understanding where Mando is going with this.

“He’ll want to get out of it by offering whatever he can. Spice, weapons, credits, but we’re not after his horde. We’re after his security clearances to Wraak’s base,” he iterates. And it all makes sense. Brehan retired about a month ago, and knowing Wraak, he wouldn’t have all new security protocols by now. You hated to admit it, but bucket-head’s plan didn’t sound too bad.

“That’s actually a really solid plan,” you say. Mando nods his head knowingly and leans back against the metal wall of the hull.

“There’s just one problem,” you continue. His helmet tilts towards you and he crosses his arms over his armored chest. “Brehan is still staunchly loyal to Wraak. If we show up asking for his security clearances, he’ll warn Wraak of our arrival then we’ll lose our only advantage on him. Wraak has numbers, we have the element of surprise. We could lose that by approaching Brehan.”

Mando leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. His gloved hands lace together and you can only assume he’s deep in thought. You’re sure if you listened carefully enough, you could hear the gears in his head turning.

“Okay, I know what to do,” he says after a few pensive moments. He leans closer to you and explains the plan in further detail. You listen intently, digesting all the information. As annoying as he may be, he’s good at what he does. You both spent the rest of the trip in hyperspace detailing your course of action and all possible outcomes. There’s going to be a massive risk with this mission, but you’ve both surveyed all your options, and this is most likely your best one. The flashing of red lights and the sudden sound of rapid beeping brings you both back and Mando makes his way to the cockpit as the ship drops out of hyperspace. While he’s up there, you take the time to inventory all of your gear and make sure you have everything you could possibly need. You have extra power cells for your blasters for security, the mechanism of your shockwhips are in tact, your vibro daggers are stashed in your belt and various other hiding places. You feel secure that you’re well equipped for whatever is thrown at you and shiny. Deciding to join Mando in the cockpit, you put on the rest of your gear. You slip your hands into your maroon leather gloves, then shrug on your black trenchcoat before putting on your black, flat rim gambler hat on your head. It feels good to be back in your old getup again. You climb up the ladder and palm the controls watching as the doors part open with a mechanical hiss and you can see Numidian Prime through the transparisteel. The lush green planet was exactly where you’d expect Brehan to go; full of gambling, spice, and the seediest company in the galaxy. Brehan was cold blooded. He hated icy atmospheres and warm personalities. He needed to retire someplace full of soulless reptiles who wanted to hide from the same authorities he’s been hiding from. And what better place for a soulless reptile to thrive than the jungles of Numidian Prime? 

“I’m prepping the landing array,” Mando says, flicking various switches on and pressing buttons above his head. “I’m gonna try and land on the outskirts so we can avoid alerting Brehan of our arrival. Strap in.” 

You nod in understanding and take a seat to his right, watching as the ship enters the foggy atmosphere of the planet. The swamp trees stretched as far as the eye could see, nothing but green for miles and miles. The thick trees tangled with vines shifted as the ship approached a small clearing and you saw birds swarm above the branches from the sudden movement caused by the crest. Mando sets the ship down carefully between two massive swamp trees. The engines hum as they power down and you can hear the crest hiss and whirr as it settles. You follow Mando out of the cockpit and to the hull of the ship and wait with him as he grabs his gear, which doesn’t take long cause he is seemingly always prepared for action. Once he grabs his rifle, he presses a button and the side of the hull folds open. You step down with him and stare up at the lush greenery above your head. The various species of birds whistle and call throughout the jungle and you and Mando begin the trek to the compound Brehan is hiding at. You’re not sure why, but you feel awkward. Mando seems completely comfortable in silence, avoiding the winding roots at his feet and brushing imposing vines out of his way. But you feel strange in the silence, even though you vowed that you wouldn’t speak to him again unless it was completely necessary. Yet you have this strange urge to spark conversation, but you don’t peg Shiny as the kind to engage in small talk. So you remain on his tail in silence. As you both walk through the swampy jungle of Numidian Prime, you begin to pay attention to the cacophony of insects chirping and birds cawing as your boots squish into the soft soil with each step. It’s meditative out here, humid as all hell, but it’s beautiful. You could see yourself settling somewhere lush like this place. If you ever settle. You’re restless by nature. Always craving action and feeling incomplete without it. As much as you love punching idiots in Gundi’s arena, it doesn’t compare to hunting down bounties all over the galaxy. A stray tree root catches your foot and you’re snapped from your thoughts when you stumble into Mando. He loses his footing on the root he was stepping on and falls helmet first into the ground. You managed to find your footing before you had the chance to be taken down with him, and you can’t help but laugh at him. You clasp your hand over your mouth, not intending to make fun of him and hoping he didn’t notice. He pushes up off of the ground, his helmet now sporting a layer of mud over the front, and settles onto his knees as he attempts to wipe off the mud that’s obstructing his view with his forearm. You pray he doesn’t notice how hard you’re trying to hold in your laughter. He’s so stoic and unmoving, that seeing anyone as secure as he is tumbling down into a pile of mud makes you feel so much better about yourself.

“Quit laughing,” he barks, finally getting up on his feet and turning around to continue on his path to the compound. Was Mando...pouting? No way, not the Mandalorian. He was embarrassed. You know he was. And it’s absolutely hilarious to see him storm off like a child.

“Aww, is the big bad Mandalorian upset?” you tease, trying your best to hold in your giggles. You hear him sigh under his helmet and he balls his fists in frustration. You wish you could see his face and how angry he is right now.

 “Is Mando upset he got his armor dirty? Hm?” you coo mockingly.

“Enough,” he says sternly, his fists balled tightly at his sides. You should stop. Putting him in a bad mood won’t get either of you anywhere, but stars, is it fun.

“Blast, you know what would make this better?” you wait for his response, but he remains silent, steadily walking ahead of you. “If your kid were here to see how you look right--” but before you can finish your next taunt, Mando stops dead in his tracks swiftly drawing his vibro dagger from his utility belt. Reversing his grip, he grabs your shoulder and presses you up against the nearest tree; his dagger just inches from your throat.

“Was that supposed to be funny?” he asks, his tone bitter. His forearm pressed firmly against your sternum and his other arm held on tightly to his vibro dagger. You’re trying your best not to seem absolutely fucking terrified. Your hat has practically been pushed off of your head, the only thing holding it up being the resisting pressure of the tree against your back. You swallow hard, your gaze switching between the dagger and his helmet. Maybe if you don’t say anything at all he won’t be as mad. Silence is better. Karabast, you shouldn’t have said anything. He must have a sore spot with this kid.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” he tests, breaking the tense silence. You can’t see his face, but there’s no guessing that he’s staring into your soul right now. You can feel his eyes burning into you and it makes you shift uncomfortably under his hold.

“N-no,” you finally admit. “No. I’m--” you sigh “--I’m sorry.”

And with that he releases you, sheathing his blade back into his utility belt. He turns away from you and continues on his path as if he didn’t just hold a knife to your throat just moments ago. You’ve learned your lesson: do not joke about Mando’s kid ever again. Never, ever again. He just might kill you over it. You decide to focus instead on the path ahead, never daring to avert your gaze from the sprawling roots at your feet. Yes, this was better. You don’t have to deal with the disappointment that is yourself. You’d think that someone like him could handle that kind of taunting; it was childish and incendiary. He’s above that kind of behavior and you were just attempting to be annoying. You didn’t think your words would’ve actually snuck its way under that beskar. He’s experienced worse people, has probably heard worse things than what you said. So why did he get so frustrated so fast? That kid must mean more to him than you initially thought. You stop when you see him raise his fist in your peripheral, signalling you to halt. You look up at him and can see his helmet raise up towards the sky to assess the rocky cliff that you’ve both come up upon.

“The compound is just up there,” he says. “We could probably drop down on them from above if we get up on one of these trees.” As soon as he says that the gears in your head start turning. Assessing your options, you remember you brought your ascension gun with you. Reaching for the holster around your thigh, you unclasp it and draw out your gun.

“I could get us both up there with my jet pack--” he pauses once he hears you fire your ascension gun, aiming it at the thickest branch of the tree to your right, it wraps around it and grapples the bark. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Meet ya there, Shiny,” you say as you ascend the tree with a mechanical whirr. You make it to the branch and detach your gun, tucking it back in your holster. When you have a steady footing, you look down at Mando who is shaking his head with his hands on his hips. He presses a button on his gauntlet, igniting his jet pack, and flies up to the branch. He lands in front of you with ease and shakes his head.

“What? You were taking too long,” you say. “Now, what’s the plan?” Mando sighs and turns towards the end of the branch, he crouches so he can keep his footing and peeks out past the foliage to get a look at the compound on the cliff. He waves at you to join him and you crouch down to climb up towards him. Once you’re by his side, he peels back some of the foliage so you can get a better look at the top of the cliff. There are about three freighters and two gunships that are landed there. There was only one you recognized. The YV-865. You used to pilot those all the time when you worked for Wraak. That ship had to be Brehan’s. Mando lifts his finger and points to a moss-covered cavern that had four armed Weequays guarding it.

“Brehan’s in there,” Mando says. “We have to quietly take out those Weequays before we can get in. No blasters. If one goes off, it’ll echo throughout that cave and Brehan will know something’s wrong.” You nod your head and grin. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for you to use your shockwhips.

“Sounds easy enough. I’ll take the ones on the right,” you tell him before you leap to the nearest branch. You stay low once you land, and utilize that same technique as you leap from branch to branch. Eventually, you make it to a vantage point above the two Weequay’s you targeted. You look over and see that Mando made it to a branch about 15 feet away, parallel to you. He makes a gesture to the side of his helmet, indicating to his communicator. You press a button on your wrist, turning your com link on, and look at him expectantly.

“We’ll drop down on my signal, okay?” you hear him say through the com. You nod your head and do as he says. You watch him and wait for his signal. You adjust one of your gloves, but accidentally press a button on your com link, unknowingly turning it off. You move your gloved hand to one of your whips and take a peek at the guards below you who remain at their positions unalarmed. The second your eyes move back up to look across at Mando, he drops down between the two Weequays he’s targeting.

“Shit,” you say, grabbing one of your shockwhips and dropping down about 30 seconds after Mando does. You can hear Mando grunting as he lands blows on the guards. You bend your knees as you land and kick one of the blasters out of the nearest Weequay’s hands. It lands about 4 feet away from you both. You look back up and the other armed guard glances at it before aiming his blaster at you. Anticipating this, you flick your whip and it wraps around his wrist; his blaster drops as his whole body tenses and yellow volts of electricity crawl around his body. He then tumbles onto the ground unconscious. You look back at the blaster that you kicked out of the other Weequay’s hands and you see him bending down to grab it. You swing your whip at his throat and yank hard. His hands fly to his windpipe trying to relieve the offending pressure as he coughs and gasps, you shock him and he tenses before crumbling to the ground with a groan. You look over at Mando who is still fighting off the two guards. One, situated behind him, has his forearm around Mando’s throat, the other was landing blows to his stomach just underneath the beskar chestplate. You swing your weapon, aiming for the Weequay behind shiny. But your hand slips and your weapon wraps around Mando’s arm instead. You instinctively yank before you had the chance to process where your whip even landed and he falls to the ground. The guards now alarmed by your presence, both reach for their respective blasters. Mando is up on his feet now and aims his gauntlet at one of the guards engaging his whipcord. But you’re doing the same, attempting to incapacitate the guard before they can obtain their blasters. You both aim for the same Weequay and your weapons both reach their target; his whipcord wrapped around the guard’s torso and arms, and your shockwhip around his ankle. By the time you both realize you’ve incapacitated the same Weequay, it’s already too late. The other one has already aimed his blaster and fired. Mando’s pauldron sparked as the bolt met the beskar with a clink. You reel your whip back and it meets the guard’s chest, the shock knocking him out. The dull echo of the blaster shot rings through the cavern and you both look at each other. You’re fucked.

“Get to the ship, I’ll hold them off,” you tell Mando. His chest heaves as the helmet nods and he presses a button on his gauntlet, activating the jet pack, and zips off towards the sky. I can do this, I can do this. I’ll just talk a lot to try and buy Shiny some more time, you attempt to assure yourself. Securing your whips back in your utility belt, you draw your blaster and aim it at the cavern in anticipation. On the bright side, they’re going to come out and see one bounty hunter and four incapacitated Weequays, so they’re going to be under the impression you did this all yourself. Hopefully they’ll feel intimidated without the foreboding presence of a Mandalorian by your side. You begin to hear commotion from inside the cavern; feet shuffling, a cacophony of voices. Soon you see a few humans, more Weequays, some rodians, and none other than Brehan himself emerge from the cavern. All of the men around him were heavily armed, but Brehan appeared to be unarmed. He looked relatively the same since you last saw him, a grey goatee against his olive skin and slicked back grey hair. The only difference was that he looked slightly heavier, he must’ve been focusing less on keeping in shape for Wraak and more on enjoying the amenities life has to offer. His eyes squint and focus on you, they widen once he finally recognized you. A laugh erupts from his wide grin and his hands fly to his slightly protruding belly, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes becoming more defined. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, his hands shifting to his hips. “I was wondering who was ballsy enough to interrupt my game of sabbac. It sure has been a while, hasn’t it? You still in the guild?”

“You tell me,” you say as you pull the bounty puck from your pocket and flick it on with your thumb. Brehan’s face fell once he recognized what you were holding.

“Now, I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m retired. I stopped working for Wraak long ago. Surely we can work something out, hm?” he pleads, subtly. You grin, Mando’s plan just might work.

“Give me the clearances to Wraak’s base and I’ll consider letting you live,” you offer, tucking the puck back into your belt.

“That is just something that I’m not able to do, little lady,” Brehan replied. “Perhaps you would like some spice? Or credits?”

You’re quiet. You simply just want to draw this out as long as possible so Mando has enough time to get back to the ship. So you decide to wait until Brehan continues the negotiations.

“C’mon now, we don’t want this to get ugly. There’s one of you and fifteen of us.”

“I like those odds,” you boasted. Your blaster was still aimed towards the cavern, with no indication that it was going to drop anytime soon. You were at a standoff. They all had their blasters fixed at you, and vice versa. You were waiting for them to make the next move, and they were waiting for you to pull the trigger. Dank farrik, Shiny, if you don’t get here… . Your eyes switch back over to Brehan, and the second they do, he moves; breaking into a sprint towards his ship, you aim your blaster at the nearest guard and fire. A rodian grunts as he hits the ground and you make a break for it to find some cover as blaster fire rains down on you. You duck behind some of the crates and peek out over the top of it. You aim for one of the humans and fire at his chest. He cries as he hits the ground. You scan the area for Brehan, and you see the ramp to his ship descend as he begins to approach it. 

“Karabast!” you curse. You aim your blaster in his direction and fire four times, but miss all of your shots. There’s too much blaster fire hitting your direction to get better aim. You lose hope. He’s gonna escape and it’s gonna be your fault. You didn’t hear Mando’s signal, you didn’t drop down in time, you aimed for the wrong Weequay. It’s your fault. It’s all your fault if this mission fails. You won’t get Mando’s son back. You won’t get to avenge her death. You’re going to lose it all. The sound of a mechanic hum from above pulls you from your pity party, and you sigh in relief at the sight of the biggest hunk of junk in the galaxy. Mando made it here with the Razor Crest. He fires, and the bolts from the Crest meet Brehan’s ship, incinerating it on the spot. The blast knocks Brehan back along with some of the guards. Smiling at the intense blaze that's replaced Brehan's ship, you seize the opportunity of this distraction and begin picking off the guards one by one. On your feet now, you make your way around the crates you’ve been crouching behind and aim for the guards. You fire a barrage of shots as you walk sideways towards the end of the shipyard Mando has landed the Razor Crest at. They're still hardly noticed you started firing at them again through all the commotion. The ramp to the Crest descends and Mando wastes no time stepping out and coming to your aid. 

“Took you long enough,” you goad as you dodge blaster fire.

“Really? You’re complaining?” he fumes, blaster bolts clinking as they bounce off his armor and he grunts slightly with each impact.

Before you know it, you both took down all the guards and all that’s left is Brehan who is scrambling to his feet and searching for the nearest escape. The two of you make haste in his direction. By the time you both get to him, he managed to steal a vibro dagger from one of the bodies on the ground and he’s aiming it at the two of you.

“Drop your weapon. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Mando’s modulated voice commands. But Brehan doesn’t crack, his blade remains in his grip. “Drop it.”

This time Brehan listens, the blade hits the soil with a soft thud. As Mando reaches with his free hand to his belt for his binders, Brehan reels back his fist and it collides with the underside of your jaw. You moan in pain as you stumble backwards cradling your face. The pain crawled to your teeth, leaving your mouth tender and sore. Mando knees him in the gut and Brehan doubles over in pain, coughing and groaning. Shiny grabs the sides of Brehan’s head with his gloved hands and headbutts him with the crown of his beskar helmet. You hear a crack and you're sure his nose was broken from the impact; a steady flow of crimson blood begins to flow out of Brehan’s nostrils. Mando restrains him with the binders and leads him harshly to the Razor Crest by the collar. You follow them, still cradling your jaw. Mando throws Brehan into the hull of the Crest and he lands on the floor, a bloody mess.

“Please, don’t kill me. I’ll-I’ll give you whatever you want,” Brehan grovels through bloodstained teeth pitifully from the floor.

You kneel to Brehans level, attempting to appear sympathetic, “Your security clearances are all we want. If you give us that, we’ll let you go.”

Mando’s head swivels in your direction and he says your name, “We didn’t agree to that.” His voice was hushed through the modulator.

You raise your hand, indicating he should be quiet.

“Sound good?” you ask Brehan, extending your hand so you could help him up. His cuffed hands extend up to yours and you take it, your thighs tensing as you lift his weight off of the ground. 

“Give the clearances to Mando then he’ll uncuff you,” you explain to Brehan, to which he nods simply in response. You can tell Shiny has no clue what you’re doing, and he must think you’re an idiot. But you’ve been around Brehan’s kind, you have to let him think he has the upper hand. The cuffs chime as Mando frees Brehan’s wrists from the metal binders. Massaging his wrists, Brehan gives you and the Mandalorian one last incredulous look before beginning his path towards the ramp of the ship. His feet almost meet the ground outside the ship when suddenly your shockwhip wraps around his ankle and you yank him back inside the hull harshly. His chin hits the ground and he’s dragged back inside on his stomach. Once he’s at your feet, you yank him up to your level by his collar and shove him into the carbonite chamber; the back of his skull meets the inside of the chamber with a clunk. Before Brehan can process exactly what’s happening, you smack the controls and an icy steam blankets him. All that’s left of Brehan is a pained expression seemingly etched into stone.

Mando’s helmet is fixed on you; your chest is heaving and your jaw hurts and you’re too pumped with adrenaline to check for any other injuries right now. You almost cost Mando this mission, you can’t even bother to look at him right now. You just want to sleep and forget the events of today. But once you turn away from the carbonite chamber, all you’re met with is Mando’s figure who’s blocking your point of escape.

“You didn’t go on my signal," he snaps, his gruff voice sounding disgruntled. "We could’ve had them completely by surprise if you just dropped down at the same time I did.”

“You think I don’t know that?” you ask accusatorially. “Do you think I was trying to fuck up the mission?”

“I didn’t say that--” Mando defends, his gloved hands raising in a defensive position, but you continue with your argument as if he didn’t just respond to your rhetoric question.

“I did what I could considering the circumstances. We still got the security clearances from Brehan, so I didn’t fail you,” you assure, more-so for yourself than for Mando. You were resourceful back there. And the mission was still successful, despite your fuckup. It could’ve gone so much worse, but you pulled through. And so did Mando, I guess. You both don’t work together very well, but hopefully by the time you get to Wraak’s base on Sriluur, you and Mando will finally tolerate each other enough to work together. The ramp to the Crest closes and you settle down on one of the crates in the hull and begin checking yourself for injuries.

“How’s your jaw?” Mando inquires.

“Shut up,” you snap, not even bothering to look up at Shiny as you address a few scrapes and bruises that cover your body. Dank farrik, this is going to be one long ride.

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Oh henry! im here to help you a bit on this journey through hell. have you heard about a death coin? they cost 10 faztokens! here, lets just set Golden freddy to 1 so you can get used to this mechanic. I believe you can get used to this very quickly! also hi luci ily platonically v much.

(If you were Impostor in Among Us, I’d let you vent in front of me and never tell <3 Also while what you’re going after is totally canon, it’s a red herring, will make sense to literally nobody except one specific friend and is pure self-indulgence, so uuuuuh, feel free to skip this one)

“Yes, I have already heard of those.” Henry raised an eyebrow. “I even used one of them. They are rather intuitive in their design- though I suppose I appreciate your help.” With only Golden Freddy out and about, it was a rather quiet night, time for him to think. Frankly, he would feel bad about harming Fredbear. Even in this odd suit form, it was still… his suit. … yes, indeed, it was hardly even Fredbear at all, at least not how the children had portrayed their savior. Just a dirty, mistreated suit. But it was STILL his suit. Hell, how abandoned it was- it was quite upsetting to him, despite everything. Part of him wished he could make the being stop being hostile in order to give it a good scrub- Well, perhaps the coin could aid with that. He wasn’t even sure if it did the same thing for every machine, so trying it out would be worth it. The coins were quickly gathered, seeing as as long as he was looking at the screen, the suit left him alone, most of the time… and even if the creature entered, it would not attack. At least it kept its mainly peaceful nature from before. A lot else about it had changed- not visually, but in the atmosphere it gave off. Old and dusty, it was soulful, but so tired and washed out. No child he had ever met had a soul like that, no matter how battered and bruised they have been by the marks of fate. And if they did, they weren’t attached to anything for long, melting into the walls, finding their peace. This creature held offensive abilities on par with Charlie’s psychokinetic talents, as well as the defensive ability to vanish at will, as Fredbear always had and he was as silent as- The dog. Alas, for now it seemed to be his prison warden. Maybe eradicating it would even give him the chance to leave… Finally, enough coins were together. The procedure was as easy as confusing- he bought the coin and it showed up in the corner on the screen, as always. Great. Now how would he use it in the office…? Pulling down the monitor, the suit was nowhere to be found, yet- A silver coin on his table. Huh. Slowly he picked it up, letting it sit in his hand. It felt hot and every second he held it, it was getting worse and worse, to a point where Henry wondered if he was the one who would be disintegrated now. Dazed he watched the coin shine and glow, not really capable of lowering his hand and putting it down- It was as though he wasn’t in control of his own body anymore, as though he had accidentally left it in every way except the eyes, completely enraptured in the silver shimmer- Until he snapped out of it. Peeling off the coin from the palm of his hand, he looked at the brandmarked, crossed out D that was now visible within it. A chuckle broke out of his throat. Almost hysterical. Friendship with Dave ended. Now murdering is my best friend. God his head was a dizzy mess, even though ventilation was doing fine. A hat. On the table. Black. Reaching out, Henry put it on- it felt like the only right thing to do. Time to get this thing done. Pulling the monitor up and down, he waited for the bear to dare show his face- There he was. For a split second he looked into its tired, black eyes, filled with nothing, nothing that he would be able to recognize, then flipped the coin towards him. “Fetch.” To his surprise It did. Easily grabbing the coin out of the air. The creature stood up, shining golden- No, not SHINING. The- the opposite. It seemed to consume the light around it, plunging everything into darkness, so that only the golden fur seemed to be there, a burning contrast to everything else- However, Henry couldn’t really make any judgement more than that, as he was abruptly picked up by the throat and screamed at, a scream that he had never heard a machine make before. Loud enough to shatter eardrums, primal enough to send cold fear through anyone’s spine and abnormal enough to echo- as though there was NOTHING around them, nothing but tall, cold, smooth walls- As if nothing he saw was real- Abruptly he had been flung downwards, his head painfully colliding with the floor and dazing him for a moment, while the giant figure loomed over him, leaning down to him, finally speaking. Hoarse and deep, it sounded like a growl, yet it was barely more than a weak, jumbled whisper. “… THERE WAS MORE FANTASY AND FUN WHERE I CAME FROM…” Struggling to keep his mind together, Henry stared up into the glowing small dots above him. What- What was this creature? It was- Unfamiliar- Strange- “You are… not… from here-“ Coughing, he tried to sit up, his arms feeling weirdly numb. “You are from- elsewhere. How. Who brought you here-“ The voice was too adult- and it wasn’t the detective, the detective had been the only case of an adult human managing to remaining without any outside help- so, WHO was this?! And where did it come from?! Once more Fredbear picked him up, the body shaking with rage, grabbing him right by the head carelessly. “Say it- say what you are- where you are from- are you some sort of- angel!?” The creature paused, but it was hard to see what its- his- face looked like. “No, no, you are too far- away from god in this place- are you a demon?” The grasp around his head instantly tightened, turning into blinding pain, enough to make him bite off the tip of his tongue in an attempt to suppress of any sort of noise. Blood, pain and numbness made his words less understandable, but his mind was buzzing loudly, filled with thoughts and concepts, that he wanted answers to, that he wanted to test, that he HAD to speak out- The only one in THIS suit, the only true Fredbear that had ever been around- “Are you- me-” From somewhere else?! Again there was a small pause- Then the bear growled once more. “YOU CAN GO AND REST NOW. I WILL ASSUME YOU HAVE BEEN CURIOUS, NOT MALICIOUS. IF YOU WILL TRY TO HARM ME AGAIN… IT WON’T BE SO QUICK.” As Henry faded, a child’s offended voice sounded. “What?! Goldie, that’s all?! I thought you would-!” When Henry woke up, he abruptly breathed in, a sense of panic shortly covering his mind, as for a second he thought he was underwater, drowning- But as his eyes started to focus on the tv screen in front of him, the rest of his body managed to calm down too, enough that he could stand up, with shaky legs. The fear disappeared quickly, only confusion remaining. Nothing bad had happened. Or rather- nothing too bad. Turning he eyed the suit who was sitting on the couch, eyes empty- not shining anymore- and dirty once again… but this time radiating a sort of intense anger. For a moment Henry considered trying to pick up where they left off- … however, for now he didn’t feel quite… ready to risk that rage once more. His actions had been calm. But there was something, something that none of the five senses could perceive, regardless of how hard they tried, not together, not alone… … and it was warning him STRONGLY against approaching this being. Regardless of what it was- it surely wasn’t him, he wouldn’t do this to himself, he just hadn’t been thinking- it was not something that should be taken lightly. The threat had been real. And it seemed to at least partially capable to influence the world around him. Fall back, overthink. He would figure a way out to use this. Somehow.

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

MUSE AESTHETICS:   STURM UND DRANG  —  LEARNING TO ROCK   Bold what applies to your muse Italicize what applies in certain arcs or verses Repost don’t reblog

Muse: Danny

wandering somewhere between darkness and light    ᜵   between dream and reality   ᜵   i watch the last light of life fade away   ᜵   time will destroy me so slowly   ᜵   i’ll never again see the light  ᜵   broken for ever and ever   ᜵   never again will the sun rise on this sky   ᜵   my wings of steel, like a dry autumn leaf   ᜵   forces i sought to, control now my friend   ᜵   like the abyssal fires it burns in my eyes   ᜵   now in my mind is but hatred and death   ᜵   it matters no more for my destiny’s set   ᜵   as i lay floating inside of my mind’s corners, it comes to me  ᜵   darkness, it falls when you least would foresee it   ᜵   oh, think again what you think is for real   ᜵   maybe in silence the happiness is   ᜵   took us in our darkest hour, brought us down with it   ᜵   trapped in an eclipse of sense   ᜵   all with freedom in our minds, yet we were its slaves   ᜵   found such peace, still it was a constant war  ᜵   there’s no point, no journey’s end, not going anywhere   ᜵   just found ourselves under the spell   ᜵   all with vengeance in our minds, yet no one there to blame   ᜵   destination there but no roads to take   ᜵   like a child, with no troubles in mind   ᜵   young and wild   ᜵   not a thing that i feared   ᜵   now winter’s here   ᜵   in this darkness i look up and long for my freedom   ᜵   out of the ashes i’m rising anew   ᜵   drowning my sorrow and pain   ᜵   just like the wind and the stars will never die, forever i’ll stay here this way   ᜵   we were one: my shadow, my fear, and me   ᜵   i was done, without a reason to be   ᜵   i broke free from the chains of the past   ᜵   lost in darkness like a shadow   ᜵   always searching for tomorrow yet to come   ᜵   never thought i’d see again   ᜵   see the light shine upon me   ᜵   can’t you see me coming, coming for you, coming there to take you from the light   ᜵   i was haunted   ᜵   now i broke free from the spell   ᜵  it’s your time now to live the nightmare all through    ᜵   can’t you hear me calling, calling for you, baby   ᜵   you better take on to the night   ᜵   i’m the rising son   ᜵   forests wrecked and cut   ᜵   he’s got no home, no lonely hut   ᜵   he’s forced to fly and fly   ᜵   shut your eyes, don’t kill your dreams   ᜵   fly through the clouds above   ᜵   nothing is no longer what it seems    ᜵   turn all your anger to love   ᜵   a lonely wolf was chased down there by people scared and poor   ᜵   he cannot share his life no more   ᜵   fly down, raven, to your friend   ᜵   leave destruction far behind   ᜵   fly and run until the end and finally easy your minds   ᜵   fly away like the raven   ᜵   he was running free across the plains   ᜵   now he’s doomed to die   ᜵  it’s all just one big lie   ᜵   one day in a place without time, without space   ᜵   i can look back and see that i am finally whole   ᜵  dying to undo the moment when all fell apart   ᜵   trying to fade out what’s real, it’s not for a life   ᜵   one brief moment brought agony, black, in my heart   ᜵   no life for me, no way out   ᜵   i’m next in line   ᜵   in this life i’ll never find peace   ᜵   digging my own grave, i’m shot down in flames   ᜵   you were my guardian angel, you saved me all times   ᜵   but angels will fall burning   ᜵   all candles have burnt out   ᜵   there is one way to escape but worse things will await   ᜵   i let him take me   ᜵   eternity will pay my price   ᜵   that’s what i hope but i don’t believe anymore   ᜵   my wounds won’t heal   ᜵   i’ll bleed ‘til the death of my soul   ᜵   sitting here trying to cut off all the things you say   ᜵   don’t wanna listen to you yell   ᜵   all your words are like poison, tainting my very soul   ᜵   trying like crazy to change me, everything i am   ᜵   having a fight with my inner demons   ᜵   i’m better off on my own   ᜵   looking over a million pieces of my once called life   ᜵   shattered in infinity, cut out by own knife   ᜵   the rain is coming, storm clouds are gathering above   ᜵   i know it’s time for me to go   ᜵   i fly away, i am leaving this kingdom of lies   ᜵   through the storm, passing hell, all for my kingdom come   ᜵   all for a life one day   ᜵   if only i could take you with me   ᜵   the past holds you enslaved   ᜵   i have to let go of it or it will tear me apart   ᜵   came to us when darkness had fallen, took us up from where we were crawling, said that we would find what we sought for   ᜵   now we’re trapped in an endless war   ᜵   promises were made out of lies   ᜵   anguish, fear, and dread in our minds   ᜵   we are mortals   ᜵   but you’ll never take our souls away   ᜵   you’ll never take our hearts away   ᜵   sanity was lost into madness   ᜵   blinded by the promise of our hopes   ᜵   we couldn’t see that hell is what we chose   ᜵   destruction you have brought before our eyes will one day be upon your kind   ᜵   do you remember those days of old times?   ᜵   the days were so golden and all shining bright   ᜵   now those days are gone   ᜵   now i’m all alone   ᜵   the sun was so shining but rain came one day   ᜵   the dark came so fast and it’s here to stay   ᜵   now this is my life, in this cold emptiness   ᜵   take me away   ᜵   take me back to when life was liveable   ᜵   i can’t stay in this hell   ᜵   oh, miseria   ᜵   do you remember that day when all died?   ᜵   i’d give my everything just for its change   ᜵   but this is the end   ᜵   i can’t stand all this pain.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Last Call

For Lilith as she requested.

Warnings: noncon sex, mentions of death and grieving, blood/violence.

This is dark!(chubby)Thor and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader deals with an unruly bar patron.

Note: I mean fuck what I said about chubby Thor because I’ve made him quite despicable in this and I’m sorry. This one’s pretty rough so please keep in mind warnings and avoid if you aren’t into more brutal scenes.

Please let me know your thoughts and reblog/like <3

LAST WARNING TO HEED THE DISCLAIMERS ABOVE!

The small fishing village was quiet before the event. Before half the residents dissolved to dust. Even after the arrival of the peoples that called themselves Asgardian, it was grim. The waters were darker, even colder than before. The streets silent; empty.

The only place with a sign of life was the tavern. Here, those who were left gathered but rarely talked. Everyone had lost someone. Family, friends, neighbours, pets, even. The world was grey in communal mourning. What was left but alcohol and denial?

You and Anders were the only bartenders left. You took the closing shift as he was usually too drunk to lock up by the end of the night. Like any other, he was coping the only way he knew how; the easiest way. You couldn't blame him, any of them.

You felt a stab of guilt when you thought of it. If one were to ask who you'd lost, you wouldn't know what to say. You hadn't lost anyone in the snap. You had lost them before and that wasn't the same. You chose to turn your back on them, chose to turn recluse on the nordic shores. They didn't have a choice, you did.

It was a quiet night. Tuesdays usually were. Anders had already stumbled out. Twenty minutes till close. Last call. A single figure left in the corner. Quiet, brooding, the usual display of the grief-stricken.

He'd been there for most of the night. Hidden in shadows as he ordered pint after pint. Anders had been serving him while you manned the bar. You could barely see him through the shadows. The fireplace he sat beside had died an hour ago.

You announced last call and grabbed a cloth. You wiped down the bar as you heard the floorboards creak. The wood shifted under his heavy footsteps and he planted his empty glass before you.

"I'll take another." He slurred.

You filled a glass and set in on the bar. You took his old one and rinsed it. You turned back and added the pint to his tab.

"Settle up?" You asked.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He tossed them on the bar and plopped on the stool. He took the glass and drained half of it in a single gulp. His pale blue eyes narrowed as he watched you count out what he owed and slid back the rest.

"Keep the change, I suppose," He muttered. His gaze was unwavering as you put the money in the till and resumed your duties. He slowly collected his money and left a single bill on the bartop. "A drink for you, barkeep."

"No thanks," You said softly, "I don't drink."

"Everyone drinks these days," He pushed the bill towards you. "To the lost!" 

He raised his glass and emptied it. He slammed it back on the wood and you picked up the cash and held it out to him. He frowned.

"Really, I don't, but thank you," You waited and he finally snatched the bill back and tucked it away in his pocket.

His long golden dreads dragged across his shoulders as he belched into his large hand. He scratched his beard as you took his empty glass and rinsed it. He watched you intently.

"Closing in ten," You warned. 

"Yeah," He grumbled, "You got someone to get home to?"

You stopped and looked at him. "Do you?"

"Does anyone?" He countered. "Before?" He leaned on the bar as you tidied up the bottles on the shelves. "Did you?"

"Never really did," You answered curtly, "I'm as alone now as I was then." You tidied up the trash along the back counter and he sighed. "You?"

"Ironically, didn't lose much after," He chuckled darkly and you turned back to dump your handful in the bin. "My home, my people, my brother…" He smacked his hand across the bar and snarled. "Everything!"

You nodded. "I'm sorry. I know it's hard." You were used to these outbursts. "I think maybe you should go sleep it off."

He stared at you. "I'm not drunk," He declared and you held back an annoyed huff. 

"Very well, but we are closing…" You checked the clock, "In two minutes."

"How would you know?" He asked sharply. You shook your head in confusion. "How would you know it's hard when you didn't lose anything?"

"I did. Neighbours, co-worker--"

"Nothing," He spat as he stood. He towered over you even from the other side of the bar. "Those people you left behind before, do you even care if they're gone? Hmm? You don't know loss."

"You need to leave," You said calmly, "I'm locking up now."

He laughed and pushed back his hair. "Make me."

"What are you? A child?" You challenged. "Now go."

He glanced away as he thought. His lips curved beneath his thick beard. You shook your head and reached under the bar. A flash and smoke rose from the wood just beside your hand. The pistol hidden there fell to the floor; melted and deformed.

"Leave," Your voice quavered and you winced.

"You don't know how hard it is. You can't," He growled. "To wake up everyday and know that you failed. That all those lives, of those you loved, those you never even knew, are gone because of you."

"Look, I don't know, okay? But you need to go." You backed up and felt around. There was a knife somewhere. The one you used to chop lemons. "Now."

He shook his head and pushed back his shoulders. He walked slowly around the end of the bar. You rushed to the end and pulled down the blockade. He placed his hand on it and you brought the knife down. He was fast.

His hand stopped you from dislodging the knife and he squeezed until you let go. He grabbed it with his other and pulled it from the wood. He tightened his grip on your wrist and pressed the blade to your throat. Carefully he sliced just hard enough to bleed but not deep enough to hurt.

You stared back at him. Unmoving. He tilted his head and removed the knife from your neck. He plunged it as deep as he could into the wood. The handle snapped and feel into pieces. He grabbed your other wrist and you planted your heels. You tried to free yourself but he dragged you easily across the blockade.

"Stop! Get off me!" You screamed. "Help! Somebody." 

He spun and tossed you against the wall. The air was knocked from you. You wheezed and clung to the wood as you tried to stay on your feet.

"Even if someone heard, you think they'll help?" He snarled. "They're all too drunk and selfish now."

You pushed yourself away from the wall and he swiftly kicked his foot out to trip you. You fell to the floor with an oomph and your breath rushed from you again. You turned and got to your hands and knees as you rasped and tried to get away.

He followed behind you. Taunting your pathetic attempt at escape. He kicked you over and you fell heavily onto your back. He put his foot on your chest and pressed down.

"That's right. Crawl, bitch." He pulled his foot away and you gulped for air. "I said crawl!" You slowly got back to your hands and knees. He rounded you and tsked at you like a cat. "Over here, kitty."

You followed him, your lungs burned horribly and your ribs ached. As you neared, he bent and pulled you to your feet by your arm. His other hand was at your throat and he squeezed as you slapped his arm and struggled to breathe. He was going to kill you.

He let go and spun you around. He shoved you against the stool so hard you barely kept from hitting your head on the bar. You tried to stand but he pushed you back down. 

"Stay." He barked and his hand lingered on the small of your back. 

His large fingers slipped down and he cupped your ass. He squeezed and pushed his body against you. His other hand hooked under your hip and he lifted you so that your stomach rested on the stool. You kicked out and he grabbed the back of your head, forcing it sharply into the bar.

Your ears rang and your vision swirled. You clung to the stool, a hand on the edge of the bar top as your skull throbbed. You struggled not to slip from the stool, your toes along the crossbar and your arm around the seat below you.

He grabbed the waist of your jeans and pulled until the metal button fell loose against the stool. He snaked his hand beneath you and tugged until the zipper split. The stool wobbled dangerously as he tore your pants down, your panties twisting along with them.

You clung to the bar with your other hand and tried to draw yourself away from him. He held you in place by your jeans, your thighs trapped together by the stiff denim. 

"Let me go," You murmured. The effort of speaking made your head ache. "Please."

"Shut up!" He roared and once more cracked your head against the edge of the bar. Your nose met the wood with a sickening crunch. You felt the blood swell as your head lolled forward and tasted the metallic tinge along your lips. "This is the world now. We all lose something...Ourselves."

He smacked your ass so hard you yiped. You could feel his round stomach along your lower back as he pushed himself against you. He snatched a hank of your hair and lifted your head as the blood dribbled down your neck.

"This is what we've become," His hand moved between your ass and his pelvis. 

You trembled and weakly hung from his grasp as a sob caught in your throat. You felt his cock against your bare ass and you gulped. You nearly choked on your blood as your entire body went cold.

"I haven't felt anything since. It's nothing. Just day after day after day," His rough fingers spread over your ass as he spoke. "Can't even get hard." He wiggled and his cock tickled along your skin. "Til now."

You whimpered as he pulled his hand away and pressed the head of his cock against you. He wrenched your head back so that you were forced to arch your back and guided himself to your entrance.

"Don't do this," You rasped as you wiped away the blood streaming from your nose. You were certain you'd only smeared it across your cheek. "You don't have--"

Your voice died as he pushed inside without warning. You reached back to claw at his hand tangled in your hair and he sank to his limit in a single motion. You hissed and slapped at his grip, your feet threatening to slip from the crossbar.

He grunted and pulled back only to slam in with enough force to make the stool shake. Your blood turned sticy between your hands as your other held onto the stool. He thrust again and you gasped.

"Gods," He uttered as he kept his motion unyielding.

The stool jostled beneath you as he pulled on your head, further and further until only your feet barely touched the stool. He poked your cervix painfully as he pressed himself against you, his free hand kneaded your thigh and his nails dug into your flesh.

Your entire body shook as he fucked you. He was vicious. As if punishing you. His hand slipped from the back of your head to your throat and he pulled you against him. His stomach rubbed against your arched back as only your feet remained on the stool. The slender crossbar felt as if it would break.

Blood trickled down your throat as you gasped for breath. His hand tightened as he felt you gulp for air. Your head swam and you closed your eyes as your let your arms fall limp. He rutted into you, a snarl marked each violent thrust.

You were sore, battered. From head to toe. Your entire body ached and your pussy thrummed. His flesh clapped against your ass, the flesh raw and tender. The tears stung your eyes as your nerves wound to a point and you shuddered in shame at the heat that flowed through your veins.

He growled as he felt the sudden gush and your walls pulsed around him. He sped up and he snaked his arm around you. He tore the vee of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your bra burned your skin as he snapped it, too. He grabbed your tit and squeezed as his pace picked up again.

"Fucking--bitch!" He exclaimed and came with a spasm. 

His hips slowed as he rode out his climax, his hand even tighter around your neck. He bottomed out as he sighed in relief and reluctantly let go of you. He pulled out and let you drop against the stool.

The stool wobbled beneath you and toppled as he stepped back. You splayed across the floor as another fell beside you. You coughed and rolled onto your side as blood filled your mouth.

He chuckled and you heard the subtle snap of elastic. You shakily sat up and cradled your nose as you looked up at him. His cock was already tucked away, a wet spot forming along the front of his pants.

His cum dripped from you and you got to your knees as you pulled your jeans up with a shudder. To hide yourself. To hide your shame as he stretched the crick out of his neck and settled on another stool, elbows on the bar.

You stared at him as you moved in haze. The shock clouded around you and filled your lungs. You stood and stumbled. He smirked and tapped his fingers on the wood.

"I'll take another pint before I go."

-

tags to be added in reblog

[sanne-star]

Don’t Challenge A Promise Between Friends

Kinda sad that this is my first fic here. Well, better write now than never, am I right?

TW: spoilers for Demise, backstabbing, blood, and death/death mention.

An unpleasant aura filled the air as the greyskin entered the Deadquarters as he came back from setting his own trap. He may not have made as many explosive traps as Cub had for the alive hermits, or made any misleading deals as some other greyskins did. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t doing anything useful in regards to Demise.

In fact, he was doing his part of a deal- one he’d made when there weren’t as many greyskins walking the earth as there were now. Disabling traps and what not to get right where he wanted. For when he makes a deal, he does all things necessary to stand by that deal.

So when he entered the meeting room and read that yet another rather cruel trap was set up in the book of secrets, he wasn’t too pleased. The greyskin wasn’t too keen on getting out to disable it, since he had just come back from doing a few errands in his base. But he couldn’t just sleep on it, especially when there wasn’t as many live hermits left in demise as there were greyskins, and a promise on the line of breaking because of this very same trap.

So emptying his inventory of any important valuables, but keeping his trusty sword in its place. In case he ran into a mob trap on the way there of course. He flew out of the Deadquarters and into the portal, heading straight to New Hermitville.

The only thing he could think about was how it all went down, and when it started getting so serious. Ever since Cub demised, almost all the traps afterwards were somehow related to TNT and Cub. And while it was funny at first, seeing the remains of the blown up builds wasn’t that great.

That’s why he went into hiding. To disable traps quietly and stay out of the Vex’s sight while doing so, only going to the Deadquarters to catch up with the others, and see if there were any traps that got in his way plan-wise. He really wasn’t expecting the game to get this dangerous, and the letter warning he got after making that deal wasn’t making things easier either.

And before he knew it, he was in New Hermitville. And the builds around him still roared with life and energy just as they were first created in that build-battle. The dragon on top of Grian’s stacked houses looking over the horizon ready to strike, the dabbing penguins taking a sweet nap to ignore the happenings around the village, and the Scara plant eyeing him with a look of hunger, ready to take another taste of the player in front of it. But he was too occupied with the mission at hand to take a look around the place.

Flying over the Area 77 gates he saw two things that definitely weren’t supposed to be there. A small half-dirt covered obsidian box, with the top open, and his fellow greyskined friend holding a minecart TNT.

He slammed into the ground behind the greyskin with an audible thud in anger, causing the builder to jump a little back in surprise. Looking back at whoever interrupted their moment of peace. “Who’s there? This isn- oh, it’s just you. How’s it going? You gave me quite the scare there!” The perpetrator- revealed to be Grian- gave a warm smile to a very contrasting cold scowl.

The greyskin glared at the TNT minecart in Grian’s hand before clearing his throat to speak. “You do know that log in traps aren’t allowed, right?”

The builder looked quite confused, noticing the tension change he glanced around for a way out. “Um, since when was that a thing? Was that discussed in a meeting? Because I can assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Trying to get out of a possible bad situation through a scared-lie turned out to be successful, in some sense. Because the greyskin before him was taken aback by the response, walking up to the prankster in question with careful steps, with a look of both sympathy and guilt.

Grian could feel himself shrink back in fear as the person in front of him set a gentle hand on his shoulder. Which further deepened the guilt in the other’s eyes as they spoke softly. “Are you scared? It’s alright, I won’t judge you for not knowing.”

Grian felt tears welling up in his eyes, latching into the man’s robe unexpectedly, words flowing out of his month like a waterfall. “I don’t like this game anymore, I’ve been trying to end it ever since Cub died, I’ve been putting traps all over the server but someone keeps breaking them. I’m just- really scared, I keep starting all of these problems all throughout the season and leaving others to fix them. There’s only two people left, please let me fix it this time, let me be a good guy for once, please.” By the end of his rambling he realized he wasn’t looking up anymore, but more so being held in a comforting way as he cried, clutching the robed person tightly as if they were his lifeline.

Grian almost didn’t notice they were walking away from the trap. He almost wanted the man holding him to take him away from this mess, he couldn’t deal with it anymore. All the stress, all the blame, all these fun ideas turned upside down because of him and him only. There’s only so long til you realize you’re just a walking curse to your friends. But he couldn’t, he had to fix this mess, he pushed out of the greyskin’s grip so that Grian could see the trap straight on while the other could just see the builder’s growing curiosity in his eyes.

The dragon bro had so many questions, but only one screamed louder than the rest. “Wait a second, are you helping Doc? But why? It’s not like he helped you-“ A sword swinging at him had almost caught him off guard before blocking it with his own.

“You really think I’d forget everything I’ve been through with him? Of course I’d help him! And if you don’t approve then why not fight it out? Fair and square.” The greyskin’s eyes held a slight glint of light as he swung again, while the other’s still had some tears in it as parried the hit with haste.

Weaving and dodging, the swords kept clashing together.

Grian tried to reason his way out of this situation as adrenaline filled his system. “Why are we fighting?! I know you want this to be over as much as I do! So why can’t you let me be good and end it for once?” He was about to throw an ender pearl far away to recharge, when he noticed that he didn’t have anything on him, he wasn’t even wearing any armor.

Looking at the hooded man he could see a grin starting to spread wider across the man’s face as he ran toward him with a dangerous aura, realizing in horror right as he accidentally blocks the hit with his arm. That the greyskin had taken it all for himself.

All he could do in this shocked state was jump a couple feet back, and clutch his bleeding left arm. There was no backing out of this situation now.

With an unknown anger entering his system. He charged toward the greyskin, slightly grazing their cheek as they just barely dodged the attack.

Slash. Dodge. Block. Repeat.

It went like that for a couple more minutes, it was like a dance sequence at this point. Only really changing after every few swings that hit.

It came to a point where both greyskins were bloodied and at their last three hearts just staring at each other, waiting in anticipation for the other to make their move.

Grian had an abundance of scenarios running in his mind of how this fight would end, many ending in his demise. But he didn’t know what to think when the man in front of him dropped his sword and raised his arms as a sign of surrender. “Alright, alright. I give up, can we talk it out? You wanted to know why I’m protecting Doc, right?”

Completely caught off guard from the sudden change of tension. Grian almost slipped on nothing, accidentally dropping his sword to gain balance. “Uhh.. I guess so, uh sure..?” He wasn’t too sure about this whole thing, but if it meant ending the game quicker, then he’d have to bite the bullet on this one.

The hooded person chuckled with a bittersweet smile. “It’s simple, really.” He looked over his shoulder, Grian following his gaze to the trap he’s yet to finish.

He suddenly feels a burning sensation in his body, looking down to see the blade had been lodged in his stomach. The greyskin’s eyes going cold as he continued, slightly twisting the weapon with every passing second. “One of the players of Demise will suffer a very painful and permanent death.”

The builder’s eyes widened in fear. Permanent death? One of his friends never coming back? Because of this game? This news has ironically brought some devastating memories of his own friends back. “Wait- does that mean-“ His question was cut short as he coughed out blood.

But the hooded person seemed to have already known what he was about to ask, because he chuckled sadly at the failed attempt of a question. “That’s right, it means we might lose either iskall or Doc in this game of ‘trick or treat’.” He frowned, glancing back at Grian’s trap. “It was very difficult to choose who to save, because they’re my friends too. But I’m sure iskall can handle it just fine, he’s been through worse.”

Nothing could describe the amount of emotions Grian was feeling. But the look on his face summed it up quite nicely. He was absolutely terrified.

Especially after hearing the last thing they said. “So, no hard feelings my dude, ‘kay?” Twisting the sword before he even had a chance to respond, Grian was no more.

Grian was slain by Renthedog

The reaper looked at the bloodshed left by his former friend with little to no emotion in his eyes. Maybe this will teach him not to mess with me again.

DocM77 joined the game

Falling to the cold obsidian floor, Doc let out a yelp. Confused and dozed from the sudden change in surroundings. He was sure there was a lava trap waiting for him here, so where did it go?

He didn’t bother with the question as he noticed light was coming in from above him. As though there was some kind of greater being above him, the top half of the obsidian box wasn’t there to begin with. But that raises the question of why, Grian wouldn’t just, remove his own trap, would he? “I guess there’s no other way to find out other than getting out of here..” Doc muttered to himself before climbing out of his prison. Only to see a hooded grey figure standing silently over the grass at the top.

And although they weren’t facing him. The air around them felt familiar in a way, more familiar than Area 77. Somehow drawing him in closer to the hermit. But they didn’t seem to notice his presence, not even giving a reaction to him dropping down from the prison. They were more focused on a spot of darkened grass to pay attention to their surroundings.

Something in Doc suddenly clicked when he heard them let out a low chuckle. “Ren, is that you? Wh.. what happened? Wait, what are you doing here?” A storm of questions danced in his head, confusion and suspicion rising with each new question.

Ren wasn’t startled by the sudden second presence accompanying his own, rather he just turned to look at Doc from the side, revealing the blood that coated his robe. In a very protective but mencing manner to anyone that wasn’t Doc, he answered with an actual smile. “Don’t you remember? I promised I’d protect you.”

Doc was about to ask what he meant when a beep on both their communicators grabbed both of their attention. And while Ren was grinning ever so greatly, Doc couldn’t help but feel his blood go cold at the sight of the message. Something big had gone down between the time he was out and now. Doc couldn’t take his eyes off the message, re-reading it to make sure what he’s seeing is actually there. But that didn’t reassure him in the slightest.

iskall85 was slain by his worst nightmare

[aj-artjunkyard]

‘Til Death Do He Part AU CHAPTER ONE: Wailing Sirens

The ‘official’ ‘Til Death Do He Part AU story begins...

Wailing sirens cut through the silent street, getting more and more deafening as they approached the bloodied form of a young adult who lay motionless on the sidewalk. The flashing blue and red police lights blinded and irritated the man. Nonetheless, he tried his hardest to keep his eyes open for as long as possible. He couldn’t loose sight of the billions of gleaming constellations above him. But despite best efforts, they were becoming dimmer by the minute. Lester dragged in rugged, uneven breaths that became slower and more sluggish as the seconds passed.

His favourite wooden peacoat was loosing its grey colour to the deep red seeping from his side. His work shirt was in tatters, torn to shreds by the hellhound that had attacked the three young demigods he had been driving to camp half-blood. Lester thought of the little girls he had been guiding, his sympathetic heart aching at the thought of preteens making the long journey to camp all by themselves. He had defeated the hellhound and given them time, but with the price of his life. A price he was willing to pay. The thin, navy scarf he constantly wore in a European loop had come undone, the light fabric fluttering in the bitter winter wind. His pale skin had been utterly drained of pink undertones. He was too tired to quake under the sting of the December cold.

Footsteps. Getting closer. Yelling. Faint yelling. Faraway…

“…ter? Lester! C’mon buddy, wake up. Lester!”

Lester felt a few light slaps to his cheek, the cold of this person’s hand shocking his eyes into opening a crack. (Wait…they had been closed?) He managed a tiny smile when he saw that he was looking up into the face of a very familiar man. The same man who had kindly brought him, a grubby teenager dressed in torn rags, into his own house when Zeus had refused to accept the tried boy back into his Olympian ranks. The same man who worked late shifts and extra days at his job as a police captain to pay for the additional food. The same man who had treated him like his own son for almost nine years.

“It’s me, it’s Derek!” His voice was fast and breathless. A reassuring smile tugged on his lips, though his eyes showed nothing but pure, undiluted fear. He sounded desperate for anything, any noise from his adopted son. “Derek Goodman, you hear me Les’? It’s-”

“Dad,” the young man croaked, before breaking down in a fit of coughs. Derek tried his best to calm his son, though he had to admit, the gash in his right abdomen was alarmingly deep. He was loosing blood fast. Derek kept one large, dark-skinned hand on the wound to slow the blood flow, and used the other to point and bark orders at his men who stood aways back from the scene, all very interested in their own boots. They had never seen their centred captain this distraught - and none wanted to endure it for much longer - and so they scattered to follow the captain’s commands.

Meanwhile, Lester Papadopoulos was focusing all his remaining energy into tracing his index finger around a crack in the pavement beneath his hand, trying to think about anything other than impending death. He had known that the clammy hands of Thanatos would tear away his life-force one day, but he had hoped it would happen like a regular mortal’s (as sad as he knew that was). In fact, he had envisioned it many times: he was in a hospital bed during a bright summer afternoon. He was surrounded by his children, his friends (most of which might as well be his children), and perhaps even his mother and twin, who still shone with eternal youth. He was grey and withered. This millennia-old life had nothing more to offer him. He was complete and at peace. The reality was startlingly crueler.

The pain that tore at his stomach, hands and face was fading to a dull throb as a deathly cold overtook his senses. His mind was alight with panic - where would he go when he died? Would he scrape Elysium or would the gates of the fields of punishment swallow his soul? Would he be cast into Asphodel, forced to wander for eternity as a blank apparition of his former self? Would he ever see his children again? Would he ever see Meg again? Meg. Where was Meg? Would she be okay without him? Would his mother weep for his passing? Would his father care? His last breath escaped his lips before he could think of an answer.

Even until the very end, the man’s slashed and bleeding hand clutched onto a phone, the screen still alight with the emboldened words: ‘Dad’ and ‘Call ended’.

……………

………

…

.

I couldn’t hear anything. 

I couldn’t feel anything. 

I couldn’t see anything.

No. Wait.

I could see something. It wasn’t anything, but it wasn’t darkness either. It was different. It was light. A blinding, golden light that pierced my vision like searing hot needles. My body burned, but I could feel no definite limbs or appendages - just blazing, scorching heat. I didn’t feel solid. But I was there, and for now, that was enough. Voices faded in and out of earshot, like someone was repeatedly dunking me underwater and yanking me back upwards before I drowned in my own subconscious.

Blurred shadows danced across my vision, blocking out the intense light with their large forms. Slowly, those forms sharpened and became detailed. I searched the many faces looming above me, surrounding me as if I was a fading patient on a hospital bed. 

The faces were human... but not quite. They gave out a certain aura of boundless, buzzing power. I was quite sure it was supposed to make you drop whatever you were holding and run screaming to your momma, which is something I would’ve appreciated at that moment. As well as their general aesthetic, they also had strange features that no human should possess. The few who seemed happy to see me had literal halos of light around their heads that reflected their cheerful smiles. Some were less ‘excited’ and more interested in my presence - one of which was a woman with piercing grey eyes who wore a full set of gleaming bronze armour, complete with a helm. One of them leaned against the wall to my left, smoking a cigarette and absentmindedly cleaning his wraparound shades on his red muscle shirt. His eye sockets were hollow, and where his eyeballs should have been, there were two spherical flames, both sparking and flickering furiously.

Panic started to swell in my throat as I realised the sheer number of beings present. Their energy unsettled me, their searching eyes and obvious raw power left me feeling extremely small and exposed. I tried to lift my arm, but I was too weak to move a muscle. All I could do was observe as eleven pairs of eyes (or flames) stared me down. 

“Try not to move, sweetie,” whispered a caramel-haired woman to my right. “Your essence is still settling. Give it time”. She talked in a calming, soothing manner, like a mother to her child. Her tanned skin seemed to glow in the bright light, and her features were soft and caring. She wore a stark white sundress that revealed her shoulders. She looked as if she had been crying for hours. I felt my pounding panic slow to a rate that would only worry a doctor (instead of sending them into immediate shock). She did not seem like the type to try to hurt me. And I could’ve sworn I had seen her somewhere before. 

In fact, I could have said the same thing to everyone in this room. They were all so frustratingly familiar, yet so vague that I couldn’t place it. Where had I seen them? In a dream? In a past life? Was I dead? I didn’t feel dead. Then again, I had never died before. Not completely, anyway. I tried to voice my concerns for which direction my soul had gone and if I could possibly go home, preferably with a hot latte and a sincere apology in the form of this month’s rent money, but all that came out of my mouth was a puff of air and a small squeak.

“She told you not to move, idiot,” an annoyed, young girl to my left spoke, rolling her piercing silver eyes - though they were also red and puffy from tears. She was about thirteen in age, with auburn hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She wore a grey parka, arctic camouflage trousers and weathered white hiking boots. On her head, she wore a silver crescent circlet that glinted in the light. I looked down and noticed she had one hand squeezing my arm so hard her knuckles were white.

My arm.

I choked in horror as I took in my state. My skin was shifting and moving like the surface of a pool. My arms melted from being tanned and muscular, to being wiry and pale, and sometimes completely formless - like churning liquid gold encased in a vague human-esque shape. I saw my clothing was the same, though it flickered more frequently. The bronzed skin wore short greek togas, white blazers with gem-studded lapels, skinny jeans or red leather jackets. The pale form’s wardrobe was much more limited - a thick, grey, knee-length peacoat made an appearance in many of the outfit combinations, along with a navy scarf and with dark, uniform trousers with work loafers. Sometimes though, the body sported a plain t-shirt with flannel pyjama bottoms or an oversized navy hoodie with some loose jeans. I noticed that unless the black loafers had been adorned, that form hardly ever wore shoes, like he could only afford one pair - though being broke would also explain why he wore the peacoat with everything. 

Confusion beat down on my mind, threatening to crack my skull with the pressure. Who was I? Which one of these bodies was mine? Surely it couldn’t be both. I closed my eyes and racked my aching brain. What was the last thing I remembered? Faces began to swim in my memories. 

I remembered a girl in her late teens, about five years younger than myself. I had known her for years and knew her inside out - the pudgy ex-street-urchin who had been my best friend for nine long years. She had a bob of shaggy black hair and a constantly changing sense of fashion that got more mismatched with every outfit. Her tracksuit bottoms were a favourite, and maybe a tattered jacket every now and then, but sometimes she even dared to leave the house wearing double denim, which was the biggest no-no known to the human race. She had long since ditched the cat eye glasses in exchange for some more regular-looking red glasses, even though they magnified her eyes so much that she could have been mistaken for a Disney character. I grabbed at the name in my conscious, refusing to forget - Meg Mccaffrey.

The shifting between looks slowed as I thought about the name. The fit, tanned body became less frequent as I remembered what I looked like. Images - memories - flicked through my head. Feeling spread throughout my nerves and tingled warmly at my fingertips. I felt the soft bedding below me, and the tickle of my tight curls on my face. With my shoulders relaxing, I tilted my chin up slightly and sank further into the comfy pillow beneath my head, taking long, deep breaths. My life flowed through my brain in double time, allowing me to relive the last nine years in seconds. 

My name was Lester Papadopoulos. I was a clear-sighted mortal and a lanky, caucasian man with tight brown curls, blue eyes and a relentless case of sniffly nose that never seemed to dissipate. My father was Derek Goodman, who had fostered me shortly after finding me unconscious in an alleyway in Brooklyn Heights, and officially adopted me when I turned eighteen. From there I had worked towards a goal of helping people, like my new dad did in his job as a police captain. I had become a paramedic, the first one one the scene when someone was hurt. I had saved some half-bloods from minotaur wounds, minor deity singeing and cyclops bruisings and broken bones. I calmed them and drove them to camp, where word spread of the human hero who openly helped half-bloods, free of charge and free of tricks. My crummy apartment had become a safe place for the lost and hurt descendants of both Greek and Roman deities - and even sometimes their faun or satyr protectors, if they were lucky enough. Even when I had no money in my pockets, I still tried my hardest to keep the shelves stocked for the next poor kids who didn’t ask for their fate. When those kids reached their camps, armed with the information that I was practically broke, demigods started appearing with snack food or teabags as meek offerings (curtesy of the satyrs/fauns, who seemingly didn’t know what humans needed to make a sustainable meal). I learned their names and remembered their stories. When they couldn’t sleep, they snuggled themselves into my own bed, like my own little personal hot water bottles - if hot water bottles could burrow their heads into my sides and put their freezing cold feet on my legs. They were all a constant hassle, and I loved each and every one of them with all my heart. I would do anything to keep them safe, which is why I always had to say goodbye.

It dawned on me that this was what I had been doing when I died.

A chilling scene played in my mind’s eye. It was dark, the street only lit by the golden light of the sparse, flickering street-lamps. I was running, my breath short, my exhales causing bursts of mist to hang in the frigid air behind me. A little girl in a worn, woollen jumper sprinted by my side, taking three steps for every one of mine, and still struggling to keep up. Her dark skin glistened with sweat. A rucksack - which was filled to the point of bursting with her inventions and things she insisted that she could make ‘useful’ - bounced on her back, the contents clanging together with every stride. A few dreadlocks hung out of her now messy buns, one gathered on either side of her head. It was too dark to see her expression, but I could tell she was terrified from the whimpers she kept letting out. Hetta Abdi was always the worrier of the group, perhaps because she had inherited her godly father’s genius, and was more aware than the others. It seemed like her and I were the only ones sensing the sheer weight of the situation, as neither of the other two seemed too concerned.

The youngest one slept soundly in my arms, her snores echoing through the night as the rest of us ran for our lives. Every few yards the girl’s peaceful face was illuminated by another streetlamp, reminding me of the god who I was certain was her father, as he too loved nothing more than to nap in the most dire of circumstances. How he managed to stayed awake for long enough to conceive with a rich Singaporean businesswoman, I would never know (or want to find out). The girl’s expensive silk pyjamas were stained by mud and monster goop, and ripped at the hems and knees, which she assured me would make her mummy very upset. Even though my arms ached, I clutched her tighter. I couldn’t fail this innocent little girl, who’d known nothing but hardships in the guise of a golden life. She had told me (between naps) that she didn’t mind that I wouldn’t get it, as no one did, but sadly I knew exactly how Aria Chua felt.

The last girl was the feistiest, the alpha leader of her mismatched pack. She was the same age as her friends, about ten or eleven, but had the guts of a rigorously trained soldier on the battlefield. Except, her tactics boiled down to ‘smash everything, then run for your life’ which was not going to help us right now. Still, she insisted on running a few paces behind me so she could protect us if the ‘big doggy’ got any ideas - but how an eleven-year-old planned to beat a hellhound with a scraped and taped baseball bat, I had no clue, but I had learned not to question her. She reminded me of how Meg used to be at that age. All I could do was run as fast as I could and pray the hellhound didn’t gain any ground. Her choppy blonde hair flew wildly around her like a lions mane, her expression just as fierce. Her ratty street-urchin jacket billowed out behind her, and her torn jeans flapped in the wind. Yes, Eden Ross made me think of Meg in more ways than one.

The hound was gaining on us, its glowing eyes washing the pavement with light the colour of blood. Its paws churned up the tarmac. Once I felt its warm breath rustle my hair, I knew it was too late. 

For a split second, the moon was blocked out as the massive figure leaped over our heads. We skidded to a stop (Eden thumping into my legs and giving my thigh a painful whack with her baseball bat on instinct) as the creature landed in front of us with a mighty thud.

It snarled, foamy saliva dripping from its many-toothed maw. Its eyes flashed dangerously, its oily black ears pressed flat against its neck in aggression. It dug it’s claws into the pavement, ready to pounce at any second. Beside me, Hetta whimpered and clung to my peacoat. Eden growled and tensed, ready to swing her bat at the hellhound’s legs. Aria shifted in my arms, the commotion finally waking her up. I seized the opportunity and flung her down to sit at my feet next to Hetta, who grabbed her friend with her free arm, the other fist still tight around my coat. I pulled out a flashlight from my pocket. It  had been made specially for me as a parting gift from Harley, as I had broken his first present to me while fighting Commodus in my trials (a celestial bronze ukulele which I had loved very much). If he could make such amazing contraptions when he was eight, he could certainly make astounding things as a thirteen year old. I clicked the ‘on’ button three times in quick succession, and the flashlight began to extend and morph until I held a sleek, matt black bow in my hand, which I drew. An arrow matching the dark sheen of the bow pooled into existence from the arrow rest to the bowstring. 

The wretched creature did not seem to care. A small pointy stick? It probably thought. Ha! I eat those for supper! It stalked closer to us, unafraid and clearly drawing out the confrontation. It could kill us in seconds. We were no more than its source of entertainment. It was only a matter of time before it tired of this game of cat and mouse, and then we were toast. 

I loosed my arrow. The hellhound snapped it up in its mighty jaw and chomped down on it like the deadly projectile was a cheap chew toy. I felt my heart sank as I realised that I had no hope of defeating this thing. Even if I managed to land a hit on it, I knew my arrows would do little to no harm to it. The best I could do was be a distraction, and by the Styx, I was going to do my best. These little girls deserved a chance to grow up - as someone very close to me once told me, everything living deserves a chance to grow. 

I tightened my grip on my bow and stepped out in front of the kids.

“Mr Lester?” Hetta called uncertainly. “What are you-”

I glared over my shoulder and said in the most commanding tone I could muster: “Run.”

“What?!” Eden barked, her bat still raised. “We are not going to-”

The monster was on the move again. It bounded towards us, opening its jaws to reveal rows of glistening, jagged teeth washed red with blood. I turned back to ready myself for my final battle. 

“RUN!”

I charged the monster, hoping beyond all hope that the girls had heeded my warning and fled. I had no time to check. I loosed a volley of arrows, aiming for the monster’s eyes and joints. A dozen of them found their marks in the hellhound’s matted fur, but it did nothing. I ducked as it made a swipe at my head with its claws. I released more arrows into its side when the monster whipped around, whacking me with its tail in the process and violently knocking the wind from my lungs. My leg made a sick cracking noise on impact with the cold ground. I lay on my back, gasping for breath before rolling onto my front and forcing myself to rise to my knees. Those kids needed me to give them time to get away, or they’d be dog food. I’d grown to care for them over the week they’d spent at my apartment, like all the demigods who passed through. I let steely determination flood my veins as I stood, gripping my bow until my knuckles were white. My left leg was screaming from my rough landing, causing me to lean to the right to keep my balance. ‘Wobbly Young Adult’ isn't exactly a feared status, but nonetheless I tried my best to look territorial. Thanks my many hours spent with Artemis and her hunting dogs, I had a general gist of what actions portrayed which messages, though it had been a while since the last time I spoke wolf - since my last visit to Camp Jupiter, in fact. 

Bearing my teeth, I drew myself up to my full height and glared daggers right into the deathly red eyes of the hellhound in silent challenge. Like; “Hey, you just slapped me across the sidewalk, and I’m still standing. Leave my land, for there is no way you’re gonna top that.” 

Thankfully, the hound seemed unsure of me. It sniffed at the air around me, circling me, as if deciding whether he should heed my warning or pounce and be done with it. I stayed opposite him, carefully sidestepping with my bow drawn and my expression stony. The bitter night air hung still in suspense, like the whole city was waiting with baited breath. Suddenly, without warning, a high, shrill scream of pure fury rang out from behind the Hellhound, startling both of us out of our brief stalemate. We broke eye contact as a little girl of eleven bolted towards the dog, baseball bat in hand and wrath on her face. Her irises seemed to glow yellow in the light of the streetlamps, making her eyes look as if they were alight with rage at this creature’s intent to her friends. She swung her bat with all her might, yelling a war cry that resounded off the hard surfaces of the street. The bat connected with the hound’s leg with an almighty CRACK - and shattered to splinters.

The Hellhound did not like being whacked by eleven-year-olds.

Eden’s face dropped as the monster turned. It snarled and stalked threateningly towards her tiny frame. She backed away, terror evident in her movements as she dropped the remains of her bat with a clatter. The noise was enough to spur the hound into action. It pounced for Eden. The sheer thought of any of my girls being hurt was enough to make something snap - a click of power I hadn’t felt since my last days as a mortal quester. I remembered how I felt when I saw Frank (precious, adorable Frank who would now be around my age now - twenty-five - but I still had trouble imagining him as anything other than the huggable seventeen-year-old praetor I had left the last time I was at Camp Jupiter) burst into flame in the Caldecott Tunnel. I remembered the power I had instinctively called upon when I wrapped my hands around the throat of Emperor Commodus. I called on the same protective might that had made a half-divine crumble.

I let out a singular note: all my love, rage and fear compacted into a roar that cracked the pavement and shattered the bulbs of every streetlight in sight, making glass rain down around me. The hound shuddered and whimpered, it’s head was bowed and it clawed it it’s ears, trying to block out the sound. Eden covered her ears and curled into a ball, the noise thumping down on her even though it wasn’t aimed in her direction. The sight made me falter and stop, clamping my mouth shut should it let out another sound without permission. Everything was still once more - if only for that one second where I stood, glued to the cracked concrete, fearing the worst as I searched for signs that the demigod was okay. In that second, the Hellhound, though visibly weakened, turned from Eden to swipe at the source of the sound. 

Claws raked from my right abdomen to my left shoulder. Warm, red blood, a stark contrast to the cold, frigid night, seeped through my shirt. A pain as white hot as Hephaestus’s most scorching forge erupted from my entire torso. I toppled, my vision only staying clear enough for me to witness the Hellhound’s dusty demise before blurring completely. My heart thumped in my ears. I don’t know how long I lay there. Nothing disturbed me until those wailing sirens…

[thevoilinauttheory]

Music Profile

Rules: For many of us, music is a source of inspiration for our characters, so I want to know what songs inspire and/relate to your muse! Choose between 10-15 songs, compile them into an album and tag some friends to share the beat!

As tagged by @lukawarrioroflight​ so very, very, very long ago. You made me do a bad thing - which was spend at least 3 hours compiling a list of 10 songs for each of the characters I roleplay the most. M’nhea’s will come first - since I haven’t thought too much about songs for him - and all the others (Maximiloix, Danny, and Amosis) will be listed under the cut. These songs aren’t in a specific order~ 

I’m going to pick up the tags again for once, so I’m tagging: @renofmanyalts​, @jasleh​, @amdapori​, @prodigalsong​, @spotofmummery​, @journeybetweenworlds​, @astralyehga​, @houserosaire​, @cadrenebula​, @ever-searching​, @munchix-home-cooking​, @egrine​

M’nhea Tia:

Silhouettes - Of Monsters and Men

There's nothing that I'd take back But it's hard to say there's nothing I regret Cause when I sing, you shout I breathe out loud You bleed, we crawl like animals But when it's over, I'm still awake

Coming of Age - Foster the People

When my fear pulls me out to sea And the stars are hidden by my pride and my enemies I seem to hurt the people that care the most Just like an animal, I protect my pride When I'm too bruised to fight And even when I'm wrong, I tend to think I'm right

RUNAWAY - half.alive

I hold my life out in front of me, dreams of who I want to be I'm seeing every empty page But I find that everything I am is everything I should be I don't need to run away I don't need to run away Yeah I don't need to run away

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy

Hey young blood Doesn't it feel like our time is running out? I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix Wearing our vintage misery No, I think it looked a little better on me I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix

Knights of Cydonia - Muse

No one's gonna take me alive The time has come to make things right You and I must fight for our rights You and I must fight to survive

It’s Not My Fault, I’m Happy - Passion Pit

It's not right, it's not right How am I the only one who sees us fight? What are we? Who are they? Who says those bastards don't deserve to pay? Well it's enough, it's just enough 'cause we don't stand a chance So long you stay around, you're just another song and dance It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair Still I'm the only one who seems to care

Hunger - Of Monsters and Men

Hungry for the kill, but this hunger, it isn't you Voices disappear when you are speaking, in somber tunes I will be the wolf and when you're starving, you'll need it too Hungry for the kill, but this hunger, it isn't you It isn't you, it isn't

The Best - AWOLNATION

I'm hardly perfect I'm barely good Just shy of greatness Ah-ah I'm heavy metal And hollow wood Just shy of patience Ah-ah

Titanium - David Guetta, ft. Sia

Cut me down, but it's you who'll have further to fall Ghost town and haunted love Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones I'm talking loud, not saying much

I Just Wanna Shine - Fitz & The Tantrums

So I wake up I get out of bed, and stay up Stay out of my head 'Cause it's dangerous And I don't wanna lose my mind, no

Maximiloix:

Warrant - Foster the People

Fear is like a fake friend It warms you up and takes you in You mouth the words but no sound comes out Fear is like your best friend Manipulates and takes you in You mouth the words No sound again

Choke - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Now shut your dirty mouth If I could burn this town I wouldn't hesitate To smile while you suffocate and die And that would be just fine What a lovely time That it would surely be So bite your tongue and choke yourself to sleep

Punching in a Dream - The Naked and Famous

All the lights go down as I crawl into the spaces Fight, flight, or the screams, life tearing at the seams Wait, I don't ever want to be here Like punching in a dream, breathing life into my nightmare

I Am a Nightmare - Brand New

So come shake your Zen out And give me pure energy My heart is glowing fluorescent, I want you to possess it I’m not a prophecy come true I’ve just been goddamn mean to you So what is this thing laced with Please, don't replace me I surrender, embrace me Whatever I'm faced with

Crystals - Of Monsters and Men

I know I'll wither so peel away the bark 'Cause nothing grows when it is dark In spite of all my fears, I can see it all so clear I see it all so clear

Crown of Love - Arcade Fire

They say it fades if you let it Love was made to forget it I carved your name across my eyelids You pray for rain, I pray for blindness

Thank God I’m Not You - Himalayas

You could call me narcissistic You could say I'm of no worth You could call me the scorn of Satan But I could be so much worse

To My Enemies - Saint Motel

You know that talk is cheap Keep talkin' as I turn my cheek You know that no one really cares (Did you know that, did you know that?) It wasn't that long ago You wanted to slit my throat To find out if my blood bleeds blue (Did you know that, did you know that?)

An Honest Mistake - The Bravery

Sometimes I forget I'm still awake I fuck up and say these things out loud My old friend... I swear I never meant for this I never meant...

Forgive Me Friend - Smith & Thell

'Cause I fell in the hole, in the hole, in the hole My heart was turning cold, turning cold, turning cold I never wanted this to end, can you forgive me friend?

Danny:

Upside Down & Inside Out - OK Go

I wish I had said the things you thought that I had said Gravity's just a habit that you're really sure you can't break So when you met the new you Were you scared? Were you cold? Were you kind? Yeah when you met the new you Did someone die inside?

Houdini - Foster the People

Got shackles on, my words are tied Fear can make you compromise With the lights turned up, it's hard to hide Sometimes I wanna disappear

Dance Dance Dance - 65daysofstatic

[Instrumental]

Cradles - Sub Urban

Tape my eyes open to force reality (Oh no, no) Why can’t you just let me eat my weight in glee? I live inside my own world of make-believe Kids screaming in their cradles, profanities Some days I feel skinnier than all the other days Sometimes I can't tell if my body belongs to me

Fire - Barnes Courtney

Oh, a thousand faces staring at me Thousand times I've fallen Thousand voices dead at my feet Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone

Meet Me in the Woods - Lord Huron

I have seen what the darkness does Say goodbye to who I was I ain't never been away so long Don't look back, them days are gone Follow me into the endless night I can bring your fears to life Show me yours and I'll show you mine Meet me in the woods tonight

Simmer - Hayley Williams

Control There's so many ways to give in Eyes closed Another way to make it to ten Oh, how to draw the line between wrath and mercy? Gotta simmer, simmer, simmer, simmer, simmer down

Rawnald Gregory Erickson the Second - STRFKR

All my life There you go Oh please stay Just this once Anyway

Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant

Funny how it seems like yesterday As I recall you were looking out of place Gathered up your things and slipped away No time at all I followed you into the hall Cigarette daydream You were only seventeen So sweet with a mean streak Nearly brought me to my knees

In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier

The creature lunged I turned and ran To save a life I didn't have Dear, in the chase There as I flew Forgot all prayers Of joining you

Amosis:

Vy från ett luftslott - Kent

Där missilerna möts De viskar: hålen i himlen ska bli våran död Ovanför molnen Där djävulen bor De viskar: hålen i himlen är från hans klor

//

Where the missiles meet They whisper: the holes in the heavens will be our death Above the clouds Where the devil lives They whisper: the holes in the heavens are from his claws

Panic Station - Muse

Ooh, 1, 2, 3, 4 fire's in your eyes And this chaos, it defies imagination Ooh, 5, 6, 7 minus 9 lives And I know that you will fight for the duration Ooh, 1, 2, 3, 4 fire's in your eyes And you know I'm not resisting your temptations Ooh, 5, 6, 7 minus 9 lives You've arrived at panic station

Destruction - Joywave

I wanna know who you told 'til they're all laying on the floor Frozen to the core I wanna know who you told 'til it's nobody anymore Nobody anymore

Little Dark Age - MGMT

I grieve in stereo The stereo sounds strange You know that if it hides It doesn't go away If I get out of bed You'll see me standing all alone Horrified On the stage My little dark age

The Wolf - SIAMÉS

I’m out of my head Of my heart and my mind 'Cause you can run but you can’t hide I’m gonna make you mine Out of my head Of my heart and my mind 'Cause I can feel how your flesh now Is crying out for more

It Doesn’t Matter Why - Silversun Pickups

You hear us come and go, we know You wonder if we're not alone, we're alone You think about us all the time, don't Because it doesn't matter why we're known We're just known, we're just known

Sleep Alone - Two Door Cinema Club

He sleeps alone He needs no army where he's headed cause he knows That they're just ghosts And they can't hurt him if he can't see them, ohh And I may go To places I have never been to just to find The deepest desires in my mind

still.feel - half.alive

So when I lose my gravity in this sleepy womb Drifting as I dream, but I'll wake up soon To realize the hand of life is reaching out To rid me of my pride I call allegiance to myself

Iron - Woodkid

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't remind your eyes, your face

Content - Joywave

I'm searching for the difference between What content and content can bring Maybe they're no different 'cause they look the same (They look the same) Maybe I'm just an algorithm with a given name (A given name) But... trying to find the difference The difference, the difference, the difference

[superfreakerz]

TDDUP 28

"Til Death Do Us Part"

Rated M for smut and heavy themes.

Reincarnation/Immortal AU

Summary: There are immortals and there are those who reincarnate, but it's best to keep these things hidden. Lucy is attending college and meets Natsu, a boy with pink hair, a devilish smile, and a body that never ages.

Read earlier chapters on FF.net

Chapter 28

Revelations

A flash of pink. Drops of red. A trembling hand flew to Lucy's mouth as her knees hit the ice-cold ground. She could faintly hear the gun drop to the snow as its owner took off in a sprint, unprepared to deal with the consequences of his actions. Her eyes burned with fresh tears that rolled down her cheeks as she stared absently at the blood that seeped into the snow.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She was supposed to be the one who took the bullet. Instead…

"No…" she breathed out, her hands fisting her hair. Shaking her head, she tried to rein in her thoughts. Her lips quivered, salty tears trickling past the corners of her mouth. "No…"

There in front of her laid Natsu, his body still. Even under the dark sky, she could make out the crimson blood that spilled from the hole in his chest. His eyes were peacefully closed, his mouth parted slightly. He looked calm, as if he could feel none of the pain that accompanied being shot.

As if he were lifeless.

A sob slipped past Lucy's lips. Squeezing her eyes shut, she leaned over Natsu's body. Her head pounded as if someone was hitting her repeatedly with a bat, and her stomach churned with each passing second.

This couldn't be happening.

"I-It's okay," she whispered, squeezing her arm underneath Natsu's head so she could pull him closer to her. "You're okay, Natsu. You're going to be okay." Slowly starting to regain control over her hazy thoughts, she fished inside her pocket with a shaky hand, only to remember that she left her phone in the cabin.

"Help!" she shouted, her voice not nearly as loud as she needed it to be. "S-Somebody help!"

She looked down at Natsu again. There were still no signs of life.

"P-Please," she choked out, followed by a sob. Her eyes traveled down to the wound, dread filling her body when she saw that it was where his heart was. With an injury like that…

"Damn it!" she shouted. Her lungs felt like they were shrinking with each passing second, making it harder to breathe. Resting her forehead over his, she shattered. She could feel herself sobbing, she knew it had to have been loud, but she couldn't even hear it. She couldn't feel the snow pressed against her legs, she couldn't hear her cries, and she couldn't feel the warm blood that oozed onto her hand.

She couldn't feel a thing.

"Why!?" she cried out in agony, clutching his body tightly. "Why did you jump in front of me? I-If it hit me, I would've just been reborn! B-But you!"

Another sob raked through her body. Her throat ached. She felt like she was going to pass out.

"I should've been the one to die!" Lucy shouted, pounding a fist into the snow. Her knuckles stung, her skin raw. "I was supposed to be the one to die! Not you!" Hanging her head back, she glared at the stars that twinkled above her. "Don't you fucking dare take him! Haven't I suffered enough!? Don't take him from me too! He doesn't deserve it! He doesn't-!"

Slapping a hand to her mouth, Lucy gently settled Natsu back on the ground before turning away. Hunched over, she threw up onto the snow.

When it was over, she was left numb. Her mind was empty, lost of the tiny hope she had that he could possibly be alive.

He was gone.

Nobody could possibly survive being shot in the heart.

He was dead.

Lucy slowly turned her head back to face Natsu. Her stomach dropped to the floor finding that his eyes still hadn't opened. They weren't troubled or pained. They were calm as ever, as if he was sleeping.

But she knew he wasn't.

With another sob, she scooted closer to him, ignoring the way the packed snow scratched her knees. She rested her head over his stomach, holding onto him tightly as she cried. She didn't know how much time passed while she laid over him, and she didn't care. She didn't give a damn about anything at that point. All she wanted was to die and to never be reborn again.

Eventually, she went so numb that she couldn't even cry anymore. She just laid there, a shell of a woman. She knew that she should go find the others. She wasn't prepared to deal with this on her own. She knew that they had the right to know what happened as well.

But she just couldn't get herself to move.

A shaky breath slipped past her lips. She had to go. She had to find the others. It was the right thing to do, even if it seemed impossible. But every time she willed herself to move, she remembered why she had to in the first place, and it brought her right back to square one.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy counted down in her head. When she reached zero, she finally lifted her head. It felt heavy, and the world felt like it was spinning around her. Trying to rise to her feet, she collapsed face-first into the snow.

So, she tried to crawl. Anything she could do to get her one step closer to everyone else. It was what he would've wanted.

She was about to start crawling when a strange sound caught her attention. It was an odd, sizzling sound. Unsure of what could be the source, she glanced around in hopes of another person who could get help.

Unfortunately, she and Natsu were the only ones in the woods.

Glancing back at Natsu, she was prepared to be hit with a fresh wave of tears. Instead, she found that the noise was coming from him. With a set raised brows, she crawled on her hands and knees back over to him.

What she found made her heart stop.

Natsu furrowed his brows as he started to regain consciousness. With it, pain erupted from his chest. It was a pain unlike anything he'd felt before, even worse than when he accidentally sliced his neck on a stick as a kid. Groaning, he forced his eyes open, squinting up at a familiar set of wide, tear-filled brown eyes.

"Lucy?" he choked out. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he spat out blood. Then it all came rushing back at him. Their walk for motion sickness pills, the man with the gun, jumping in front of Lucy, the pain when the bullet went through him, he remembered it all.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards into a miniscule smile. It was the biggest he could pull off with the amount of pain he was in and with his exhaustion.

"Thank god…" he breathed out, closing his eyes. He made it in time. He saved her.

Surprised that Lucy hadn't said a word, he looked up at her again with an arched brow. Her eyes were large, her gaze not meeting his. Her mouth was gaped open. Wondering what it was that had snared her attention, he followed her gaze.

Once he saw it, his body was filled with dread.

His body had begun its healing process. It was rejecting the bullet, pushing it slowly out the hole it created in his chest. When it was pushed out all the way, it rolled off his chest and landed in the snow. A sizzling sound came from his wound as the bullet-hole started to close on its own.

In no time, he was good as new.

Tears pricked Natsu's eyes as he shot up in a sitting position. The pain of being shot was gone now, but there was a new kind of pain in his body as he found the fearful expression on her face. She frantically whipped her head from the rejected bullet to his face.

"I-I can explain," he choked out, reaching a hand towards her.

Only for her to back away from him.

It felt like he had been shot right in the heart again. His heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on just from the simple movement.

It was over. Everything that he had built with her was destroyed, just in a matter of minutes.

With hot tears trickling down his face, Natsu shot up to his feet and made a run for it into the woods without looking back. Branches scraped his arms, bushes scratched at his legs, but it didn't matter as they all healed on their own while he ran. He felt sick to his stomach, his head was a jumbled mess, and he felt broken. Every time he blinked, he pictured Lucy's fearful gaze pointed at him.

She'd never been afraid of him before.

Tripping over a root in the ground, Natsu fell to his hands and knees. He ignored the stinging pain, curling into a fetal position, tugging at his hair. A cry wrangled its way out his mouth. His life was over.

He would have to go back into hiding and he would never be able to see Lucy again. The worst part of it all was knowing that she didn't want to see him anyways.

Clutching onto his scarf, he prayed for some comfort. Before, it had always been able to make him feel better. Only now, he was starting to think nothing would help him.

Lucy sat still, stunned. Her mind had yet to process what she had just saw. She knew that Natsu shouldn't have been alive. He got shot in the heart, for god's sake. And even if he did somehow live through it, there was no way in hell the bullet would've risen out of his body and his wound would have miraculously closed on its own.

She must've passed out earlier. She had to have been dreaming. And yet, at the same time, she knew she wasn't.

Nothing made sense. The pounding of her head only got worse.

Just what the hell happened? First Natsu was dead, then he sat up as if he hadn't been shot.

Shaking her head, Lucy forced herself up to her feet. It didn't matter what happened. All that mattered was he was alive.

Her lips tugged downwards into a frown as she pictured his face from earlier. He looked so broken, and it was all because of her. It was just that she was so shocked earlier, she didn't know what to think. She had to make things right.

Her legs wobbled beneath her, but her steely resolve kept her afloat. She needed to find Natsu and get the truth. And more importantly, she had to tell him she loved him.

It was hard to walk at first, but after taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down and clear her head, she was ready. Following the scarce lampposts, she stayed on the trail, running until she made it to Gray and Juvia's cabin. Whatever the truth about Natsu was, she was sure that they were in on it.

Banging on the door, she waited until it swung open to reveal Gray, shirtless as ever.

"Lucy?" he asked. Concern etched his features immediately as he found the blood that stained her hands and clothes. "Lucy, what the hell happened? Are you-"

"I need your help," the girl interrupted. "I need your help to find Natsu."

"Natsu?"

"I-It's a long story, I don't have time to go over it. Just help me find him."

Gray's eyes widened as he glanced down at the blood, finally connecting the dots.

"Th-That's not your blood, is it?" he asked. Juvia stood beside him, curious as to what was happening.

"No, it's Natsu's," Lucy answered. She could tell that Gray knew she was in on their secret now as he bared his teeth and stared at the floor. "Look, we can talk about this later, okay? I just need to find Natsu."

Gray casted her a suspicious look, wary of what her intentions were now that she knew the truth. Still, finding Natsu was his top priority as well. Wherever he was, he was sure to be a mess.

"Yeah, we'll help," he said, grabbing his coat. "Juvia, go tell Erza and the others what happened, then have everyone split up and look for Natsu."

Juvia glanced at Lucy in the corner of her eye. "What about…"

"I'll stay with Lucy. For now, we just have to find Natsu. We'll figure out the rest later."

They separated outside the cabin, Gray and Lucy running to check out the woods while Juvia ran down the path towards Gajeel and Levy's cabin.

"So, what exactly happened?" Gray asked, following Lucy back the way she came from.

Lucy shook her head, trying to drive away the image of Natsu jumping in front of her and taking the bullet.

"Natsu got shot," Lucy answered, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Wait, what!? He got shot!? What happened to the person that shot him?"

"He ran away after. But don't worry, he left the gun behind. We can still turn that into the cops so that they can find him."

Gray grabbed Lucy's wrists, stopping her in her tracks.

"About that, we can't go to the cops," he said, scratching the back of his head.

"Why not?" Lucy asked, giving him an incredulous look. "He shot Natsu. You're telling me we're supposed to just let him get away?"

"Look, I'll explain later. For now, just take me to the place he shot Natsu. I have to get the gun and the bullet."

Lucy wrangled her arm free from his grasp. "What the hell is wrong with you? Natsu- your friend- got shot! And you're here worrying about some stupid gun?"

"Lucy, I'm doing this for Natsu. Please, I promise we'll explain everything. We have to hurry."

Narrowing her eyes at the boy, she nodded reluctantly. Leading him back to the site, she took a deep breath. She could picture Natsu's lifeless body, his blood oozing into the snow. It was a sight she wanted to erase from her memory.

"It's around here somewhere," she said, clearing her throat. The snow had covered all of the evidence, but she could never forget where it happened. "It shouldn't be that deep under the snow. We can find it."

The two sifted their hands through the snow slowly so that they wouldn't somehow accidentally set off the gun. It didn't take long before Lucy's fingertips brushed against something metallic. Having never touched a gun before, she was wary of holding it in her hands, but she pulled it out of the snow regardless.

"I found it!" she called out. Gray rushed over to her immediately. "The bullet should be around here too."

"Yeah, I think I found it," he replied, plucking the bullet out from the snow.

Lucy felt sick to her stomach as she could make out the blood that lingered on it.

"All that's left is finding Natsu. He ran that way after what happened, but I don't know if he kept straight or turned to throw me off his tracks. And it doesn't help that the snow covered his footprints."

"Don't worry," Gray said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "We'll find him. C'mon. He couldn't have gotten too far."

They ran into the woods, deep into the thickets. Lucy's heart pounded in her chest. She hoped they'd find Natsu soon. She could only imagine what he was feeling right now.

"This must be the big secret," she thought, finally starting to connect the dots of all the strange incidents that happened since they met. He was like her! Well, sort of. He was an outcast in his own way, but they were still similar!

It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. Through an odd stroke of luck, she had managed to find someone with just as rare circumstances as her own.

"Natsu!" Gray shouted. "Where are you?"

"Natsu!" Lucy joined in. "Come out already! I just want to talk!"

As expected, they were met with no reply. With a sigh of defeat, Lucy followed Gray deeper into the woods, keeping their eyes peeled for Natsu.

Finally, she found him.

In the corner of her eye, she saw slight movement. She would've chalked it up to be a small creature, but with the pink tufts of hair sticking out, she could tell it was him.

Taking a deep breath, she ran towards him, stopping just at his feet.

"I finally found you," she said between pants.

Natsu flinched from the sound of her voice. Instead of meeting her gaze, he buried his face deeper in his scarf. Snow dusted his body, but he couldn't feel the cold.

"Natsu, please look at me," Lucy begged. Once again, she went ignored. With a soft sigh, she kneeled beside him. Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched him cower away from her. "Natsu, can we talk?"

"Lucy, please just leave me alone," he replied, his voice cracking under the strain of his emotions. He had never been close to any mortals before Lucy, and now that she found out his secret, there was no telling what she thought of him. He'd heard all about how the mortals thought of them from the other immortals' experiences. They were freaks. Monsters. They weren't deserving of the infinite life that they had. They were cursed. She was probably disgusted with him, and he couldn't even blame her. It was true. He was a monster, and she was probably going to turn him into some sort of research facility because of it.

"Natsu, I just want to talk about what happened," Lucy said. She could hear Gray's footsteps coming to a stop a few feet behind her to give them space. "I-I can't say that I understand everything. I'm not entirely sure what happened, so I was hoping you could explain it to me."

"What's there to explain? I'm a freak! That's it, Lucy! Now go!"

"You aren't a freak, Natsu." The corners of her lips pulled downwards into a frown. She'd never seen the boy so distraught before. Slowly reaching out, she gently ran her fingers through his hair, hoping to convey her feelings in the small movement. He flinched under her touch, but he didn't pull away.

"You aren't a freak," she repeated, fresh tears building up in her eyes. Her throat burned as the lump in it built up. "You are the sweetest person I know. You care about all of your friends, you are always making me laugh, and you are the one that fills my life with adventure. You're loud, you have no sense of boundaries at times, and you are the most mischievous person I know, but you are not a freak. I mean that from the bottom of my heart."

Natsu slowly sat up, still unable to meet her gaze. His face was wet with melted snow and his own tears. Wiping his sleeve over his cheek, the boy released a shaky breath.

"Then you must not have really seen it," he said.

Lucy shook her head. "No, I did see it. But that still doesn't change the fact that you aren't a freak. You're a weirdo, but not a freak."

Natsu gave a dry laugh, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. "You're the weirdo."

"Nope. You are. But that's okay. I love you anyways."

Lucy threw her arms around Natsu, savoring his warmth. It was surprising that even after laying in the snow for so long, his body still had an abnormal heat to it. Natsu sighed, running his fingers- which were red thanks to the snow- through her hair.

Pulling away, Lucy gave him a teary smile. Releasing a shaky breath, she grabbed onto his hands tightly.

"I just want to let you know that you don't ever have to worry about me telling anyone about your secret because… W-Well, there's something I want to share with you," she started, her heart pounding in her chest. Her stomach felt like it was doing flips.

Natsu arched a brow. "What is it?"

"The reason you don't have to worry about me not telling anyone is because I'm like you."

Natsu and Gray shared a glance.

"Wait, what?" the former asked, his eyes wide. "Are you an immortal too? Holy shit, I thought you were, but then I started doubting myself because-!"

"What? No, I'm not an immortal," Lucy interrupted, shaking her head. Then her jaw dropped. "Wait, is that what you are!?"

"Huh? Yeah. I thought that's where you were going with that."

"Wait, you're telling me that you're an immortal? As in, you live forever?"

"Uhh, yeah. That's kinda the gist of it.

Lucy blinked once, then twice, her jaw still gaping open. "W-Wow. That is a lot to process. I-I have so many questions, I'm not even sure where to start."

"How about you tell us what you meant when you said you're like us?" Gray chimed in. As happy as he was for Natsu that Lucy wasn't running off screaming, it didn't change the fact that a mortal now knew their secret. It wasn't going to be a walk in the park from here on out. In fact, the most likely outcome would be that they were going to be sent off to another base to hide.

"Oh right," Lucy said, slapping a hand to her forehead. Taking a deep breath, she met Natsu's gaze again. "I may not be an immortal, but I have a secret of my own."

"What is it?" Natsu asked. Curiosity ebbed at him. He knew she had a secret, that much was obvious. He just didn't know what it could be if it wasn't immortality.

"The truth is, I reincarnate every time I die. It's not like how it is in the movies though. I retain all of my memories and looks from my previous lives."

Natsu's brows shot up to his hairline. As unbelievable as it sounded, it oddly made sense. Then he remembered the night of her first sleepover with the rest of the girls, when he had snuck over to her apartment during the middle of the night.

Natsu stared at Lucy. Seconds ago, the atmosphere was light, and it seemed like they were having a nice moment. In fact, he could've sworn he saw her lean in. His hopes had told him it was for a kiss. But now, she was frowning and staring at the stars. She usually smiled when she did that.

"Lucy? Are you okay?" Natsu asked in concern. He loved her smile and hated seeing her upset. Did he do something wrong?

Lucy's gaze never wavered, her stare glued to the sky above. "Natsu, do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Reincarnation?"

"The act of being reborn after you die. Do you believe in it?"

Natsu frowned. He knew what it meant, but he didn't know where the question was coming from. Just what exactly was on her mind? Seeing as how Lucy's gaze hadn't moved, he figured he needed to tread lightly. To answer her question to the best of his ability.

Did he believe in reincarnation? He'd thought about it a few times, but that was before he found out he was immortal. Now, it didn't apply to him. But could it apply to the mortals?

"I don't think I do," he finally answered, rubbing the back of his head. He figured that if they weren't cursed with being immortal like he was, then their lives just simply ended. He had no clue what came after death, but the thought of mortals being reincarnated while his life continued forever didn't make sense to him for some reason.

Lucy smiled, but Natsu noticed immediately that it didn't reach her eyes. Had he messed up? Did she want him to say that he believed in reincarnation?

Hoping to fix it, Natsu said, "Reincarnation sounds awesome though!" Wanting to lighten the mood, he joked, "I just hope I wouldn't be reincarnated as Gray's son or somethin' like that."

Lucy didn't seem to find any humor in his comment. She still hadn't looked at him. He hated it.

"Holy shit," Natsu breathed out. "It all makes sense now!"

"It does?" Gray asked, arching a brow in suspicion. "It kinda seems a little…"

"Farfetched?" Lucy finished for him with a dry laugh. Nervously rubbing the back of her head, she continued, "Yeah, I know. It sounds crazy. But it's the truth."

"Lucy, you know I care about you a lot but it's a little too crazy to believe."

"C'mon, Gray!" Natsu exclaimed. "Why would Lucy lie about something like that?"

"I don't know," the other boy answered with a shrug. "Maybe to get you to cheer up? Or maybe let your guard down so that-"

"So that I can what?" Lucy asked with a glare. "So that I can betray him? Seriously, Gray, in all this time you still don't trust me?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, Lucy! But someone has to think realistically about this whole thing, and Natsu's too close to you to be able to think rationally. The truth is, some of us have been hurt before, and I'm not gonna let that happen again."

"I wouldn't hurt you guys! You know that!"

Natsu frowned watching the two of them go back and forth. As much as he wanted to side with Lucy, he couldn't deny that Gray made some good points.

"Why don't we go back to the cabins?" he suggested. "We can talk about it there. Get out of the cold."

"Fine," Gray said with a sigh. Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he shot Juvia a quick text. "I let Juvia know that we found you and to meet us at your cabin."

At that, all the color drained out of Natsu's face. "Wait, does everyone else know that Lucy found out about our secret?"

"Yep. Including Erza and Gajeel. You're gonna get your ass handed to you, that's for sure."

Natsu gulped. He contemplated staying in the woods. He could start a new life with Lucy, one where Erza could never find him and strangle him for letting their secret get exposed.

"Come on," Lucy said, dragging him by his scarf. "You're going to have to explain it to them sooner or later."

"No I don't!" Natsu argued. "C'mon, Luce! We could run away! Start new lives together! Just you and me!"

She rolled her eyes. "I've started enough new lives to know that it's not as fun as you think it is."

Reaching the cabin, Natsu really considered running away. Unfortunately, Lucy's hold on his scarf hadn't budged in the slightest. Following Gray and Lucy inside, it was no surprise that a punch was immediately thrown to his face.

Falling to the floor with a loud thump, Natsu groggily rubbed the soon-to-be-bruised spot.

"What the hell!?" he shouted. First he was shot to the heart and now this. He just couldn't catch a break that day.

Erza loomed over him, her shadow casting over his face. Her hands were planted on her hips, her brows were furrowed, and her lips were drawn in a thin line.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" she shouted, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him up to his feet so that she can stare into his eyes with her menacing gaze. "Have you lost your mind? How could you tell Lucy about us!?"

"I didn't tell her!" Natsu argued, holding his hands up in surrender. "It wasn't my choice!"

Erza threw him back on the floor. "Explain. Now."

"Alright, alright! Look, this crazy guy came up to me and Lucy with a gun. It was pointed right at her! I took the bullet for her since I'm an immortal and then she saw my body healing itself. It wasn't my fault!"

Erza threw her hands in the air, marching around the quaint cabin. Everyone moved out of her way, scared to be in the way of her tirade.

"Everything is compromised. Our safety, our home. All of it."

"No, no! Listen to this! Lucy's one of us!"

At that, the entire group whipped their heads towards Lucy.

"You're an immortal?" Juvia asked.

"Wait, that can't be," Levy answered. "I remember seeing Lu-chan accidentally cut her finger while cutting vegetables. It didn't heal on its own. She can't be an immortal."

"I'm not," Lucy chimed in. Her cheeks flushed under their inquisitive stares. "I'm not an immortal, but I reincarnate."

The group went silent, none of them making a sound until Gajeel stood up from his spot on the bed. He marched over to the blonde, his crimson eyes boring into hers. It was the first time in so long that she'd ever seen him so suspicious of her.

"I told you guys that befriending her was a bad idea," he spat. "Look what happened! Now she's gonna go blabbing about us to the world! I knew we shouldn't trust her!"

"What the hell is your problem?" Lucy shot back, hands on her hips. "I'm still the same me that I was before! Nothing's changed!"

Gajeel grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight as he sneered, "You're right. Nothing's changed. You're still the same mortal that I had a bad feeling about."

"Gajeel, let go of her!" Natsu shouted, lunging towards him only to be blocked by Erza.

"He's right," she said. Her face was stern, but her eyes were pooled with sadness. "Befriending Lucy was a mistake. We've compromised our safety, along with everyone else's, and now we have to pay the price."

Lucy blinked back hot tears. She'd had enough crying for the day. Snatching her arm out of Gajeel's hold, she glared at all of them.

"What? Now our friendship means nothing to you guys?" she spat. "Gajeel, who was it you confided in about proposing to Levy-chan?"

The boy tore his gaze away, muttering below his breath.

Lucy turned to Erza and continued, "Erza, who was it that lent you clothes and did your makeup so that you can go on your date with Jellal? And Gray, who was it that helped you plan the perfect date with Juvia? Me! It was all me! Our friendship is important to me whether you're immortal or not and I'm not going to let you guys pretend that it all meant nothing!"

"Lu-chan…" Levy started, wiping a tear out the corner of her eye. "It's not that you mean nothing to us, it's just that we don't have a choice…"

"Don't have a choice? I just told you my biggest secret! You're telling me that you still can't be friends with me?"

"Lucy's right," Natsu chimed in. "She's not just a mortal. She reincarnates!"

"You believe that bullshit?" Gajeel asked incredulously. "Natsu, look, we get that she's your girlfriend, but you can't go putting everyone else's lives in danger because of it!"

Lucy's eyes widened as she remembered something. "I have proof!" After everyone turned to face her, she continued, "I have a locket back home with a picture of me that was taken over sixty years ago."

Natsu grinned from cheek-to-cheek. "I knew it! I knew that locket meant something!"

She nodded. "It has a picture of me from my first lifetime with my first set of parents. It's proof that I reincarnate. We can go back to my place first thing tomorrow and I'll prove it to you." At their skeptical glances, she continued, "You guys owe me that much. Just give me the benefit of the doubt. I promise I'm not lying to you."

"Fine," Gajeel replied. "But we're goin' with you inside! Can't have you photoshopping it."

"I suppose this sounds reasonable," Erza said with a nod. "If Lucy is telling us the truth, then Natsu is right. She's not like any other mortal. We can take her to see Makarov and figure out what steps to take next." The redhead turned to Natsu. "But, if she is lying, you will do everything that I say for the benefit of our friends. That includes never seeing Lucy again. Do you agree to these terms?"

Natsu glanced at Lucy. He hated the thought of agreeing to something when it was a possibility he could never see Lucy again, but he trusted her. He knew that she wasn't lying to him.

"I agree," he said with a nod.

Erza sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Alright. That settles it. We'll find out the truth tomorrow. For now, let's just get some rest. We have to wake up early tomorrow to drive home. Oh, and Lucy, please hand over your phone."

"My phone?" the girl asked.

"Yes. It is just in case."

"You mean just in case I tell the world your secret?" Lucy sighed, handing over her phone. "Fine. But you guys are going to look really silly tomorrow when I prove I'm right."

Gajeel glared at her.

"We'll see about that."