#demon!Edwin fics anyone?

[fandomfaeofveryfewf4cks]

...

Fic idea? Headcanon? I don't know.

This thing! 👇

What if Edwin compares himself to David because Crystal let her whole life get swept into what David was doing and Charles let his whole afterlife get swept into what Edwin was doing?

David finds this girl who takes a liking to him and decides he wants them to be together forever.

Edwin finds this dying boy who takes a liking to him and ends up wanting THEM to be together forever.

Edwin's been to Hell, and you can't tell me he never, not even once thought he actually deserved it. Because with all that repression, there's gotta be some unaddressed self-hatred.

What everyone (but Edwin) knows is that while David only cared about what he wanted for himself, Edwin cares about Charles and his happiness more than anything.

Cue Charles making it clear that he made the choice to stay because he wanted to be with Edwin and that Edwin did not lure him into a trap.

And Edwin not believing him.

Also, depending on what makes demons in this universe, maybe Edwin considers himself a demon rather than a ghost?

...What if Edwin actually did become a demon when he went to Hell?

WHAT IF HE IS A DEMON AND DOESN'T KNOW!?

*furiously types*

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Masterpost

You can find me here on AO3 or on Discord at ghostinthelibrary. Anyone who would like to translate, remix, podfic, etc. my work has blanket permission. Just please credit me and send me a link so I can flail happily about it. I do not give permission for my work to be crossposted to Wattpad, Goodreads, etc. I do not give permission for my work to be fed to any AI programs such as ChatGPT, even if you don’t intend to publish the results.

Series

Undead Boys Detectives: Payneland, 1/? installment complete. Charles and Edwin return from Hell as living boys and have to deal with the consequences while hunting a dangerous spirit and dealing with their burgeoning feelings for each other.

Ministry of Supernatural Investigations: Payneland with eventual Palasaki, 2/? installment complete. An AU where Edwin and Charles are partners working for an agency that solves supernatural crimes and are pining like crazy for each other.

Standalones

Say her name like an elegy: Edwin & Crystal, T, 2K words. When Edwin finds Crystal distraught and reading a book on necromancy, it doesn’t take much detective work to figure out what’s wrong. Providing comfort is a much more challenging endeavor.

Like the slumber that creeps to me: Payneland, T, 13K words. While on a case, Charles falls victim to a cursed necklace that causes everyone who touches it to sicken and die. While his friends frantically search for a way to break the curse, a weakening Charles has plenty of time to think about his feelings for his best mate.

I will love you (I'll really love you): Payneland, T, 5K words. Five times Charles tries to tell Edwin that he's in love with him and one time he succeeds.

WIPs

young blood (never get chained): Payneland with background Palasaki, E, 6k+ words, 1/? chapters posted. Formerly known as Demon!Charles AU. When half-demon university student Charles saves one of his classmates, Edwin, from being sacrificed to a demon, he inadvertently binds their souls together and makes a powerful enemy in Hell.

You can find a list of my Witcher fic here or my single Last Binding fic here.

[coloursflyaway]

Ok, so I’m a big fan of your dbda fics and I saw you were asking for prompts. I have 2, one of which is inspired by one of your reblogs.

1. Charles kisses Edwin at the worst possible time, maybe ending in them getting captured and Edwin giving him a lecture on “time and place”, Charles arguing with “you’re one to talk about time and place”, referring to the hell confession

2. Preferably very angsty, Charles wants to kiss Edwin to try and figure out if he feels the same way, and Edwin stops him, saying something along the lines of “if we did kiss and you didn’t feel the same way I don’t think I could bear it”

Obviously no pressure to write either of them, but I would love to see how you would develop these ideas more.

Hiii, thank you so much for these ♥♥♥

I'm keeping the second one for later, because I really like that, but here's a little ficlet for the first prompt!

It’s not like Charles plans it to go like this, is it?

In fact, he isn’t sure if he could plan it like this if he tried, he’s not sure if anyone could.

It’s just something that happens, because, to be honest, it was always bound to happen at some point, and it’s not Charles fault that Edwin, well. Stood there. Looking so pretty with his perfectly coiffed hair and his kind eyes and high cheekbones.

Not even the look of slight exasperation had detracted from how much of a vision he looked, maybe because Charles has gotten more than used to it in the thirty-odd years they have known each other.

(He knows exactly how many years it’s been, how many months and days too, could probably reconstruct it down to the hour, but that gets to be his little secret, only admired sometimes in dark nights and especially bright mornings, when Edwin is reading or doing research or concentrating on something else enough that the tip of his tongue peaks out between his plush, pink lips.)

And Charles didn’t decide to take a step towards him, just like he hadn’t decided to reach up and put one hand on Edwin’s cheek, feeling the sudden breath Edwin had taken.

Two decades ago, Charles had persuaded Edwin to try breathing again, at least occasionally, as a little luxury, a little treat, and it still makes him smile to see Edwin do it, made him smile in that moment, too, and maybe that had been a decision.

But leaning in and kissing Edwin, that hadn’t been a choice at all.

Just something he had to do in that moment, because there was a little smudge of chalk on the edge of Edwin’s jaw, because Edwin had looked at him and behind and around and between the exasperation, he had looked so fond.

And Charles had thought, he loves me, and then, I love him, too.

What other choice did he have than kiss that love onto Edwin’s lips?

Only that when he pulls back, a smile on his lips and, if possible, even more love in his heart, Edwin is looking him with wide eyes and his lips kissed pink, but not curved, not smiling.

“Charles”, he starts, and Charles isn’t certain he has heard this tone in his voice before; it makes him giddy to think that this is something brand new he gets to find out about his favourite person in the world. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry”, Charles starts out of habit, then stops himself, brow furrowing. “Actually, no, I’m not sorry at all. That was great and I’ll do it again. And again.”

He grins at Edwin, happiness bubbling in his chest until he feels like he’s bursting; a sound drips from Edwin’s lips, something in between a gasp and a whine.

“There’s a time and a place-”, he begins a speech Charles has heard before, and it’s so easy to interrupt him this time, because Charles usually doesn’t mind the scolding, but there’s more important things right now, like kissing Edwin again.

“You mean, like not in the middle of summoning a demon? Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if you really get to talk about times and places. At least it’s not on the stairway to Hell, is it?”

And Edwin’s eyes widen even more, if that is possible, and not that Charles doubted it before, but God, he really does love him.

Without thinking, he moves his thumb to wipe the chalk from Edwin’s skin, and Edwin sucks in a breath, then, with the quietest, most hopeful voice, asks, “You do mean it, don’t you? You’re sure? This isn’t just a-”

“Of course I mean it”, Charles cuts him off, before Edwin can say anything else, can think that Charles might not be serious about this for a moment longer. “Have never meant anything more than this.”

Another breath, one that Charles can almost feel against his skin, and Edwin nods.

“Maybe, then, after the demon, we could-”, he starts, but doesn’t get to finish this sentence either.

“Sod the demon”, Charles says, and means it.

This time, when he kisses Edwin, it’s a choice, and it’s the best one he’s ever made.

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 5 - Painland Week

Day 5 of Painland Week 2024: August 5th - August 11th by @painlandweek

I wanted to post the final day in time because it was the first fic I wrote for this event, but I do have 5 and 6 as well so I guess I'll still share them even if a bit late!

Prompt: Case Fic

Tags:  Post-canon, Established Relationship

TW: None

--

For all intents and purposes, Crystal was part of London’s supernatural community. Even before meeting Edwin and Charles she had some ghosts as friends, and obviously there was the whole dating a demon business. But she was surprised to find out that there were several gathering spots that other psychics and beings in general used to exchange information, trade, or generally hang out together.

What didn’t surprise her at all was that Charles loved going there, while Edwin looked like he would rather spend the evening stabbing his own arm with an iron knife.

“I just don’t see the point, if someone has a case for us to solve, they would know where to find us, otherwise we have no reason to talk to them.”

“We don’t have to think about work all the time, do we?” replied Charles, not without a fond smile on his face. Few things had changed between the two of them since they got officially together, at least in public - she didn’t want to think about what they did after she left in the evening, and luckily they never talked about it - except that they were both more relaxed, and sometimes they got lost in each other’s eyes.

She cleared her throat. “So we are going?”

Edwin grimaced, like he had just bitten something incredibly sour. “Fine.”

They had a new client, a young witch called Noora, who said random objects had started to disappear from her shop. She believed someone or something was trying to get her to close because they didn’t trust her, even if she had stopped practising magic for that exact reason, afraid that the power would eventually corrupt her like it happened to many witches. She had seemed honest enough, someone who just wanted to do some good selling herbs and artefacts, plus she had offered an open tab to collect ingredients as payment, which was too good an opportunity to pass on. So after doing some background checks on her - which had become mandatory after the ‘Case of the Asshole Jocks’ (as Crystal called it) in Port Townsend - they decided to accept.

They arrived at what looked like an ordinary pub, with some arcade games in one corner, darts and pools in another, and a counter, with separated menus for humans, vampires, and even ghosts.

“There is food that ghosts can eat?” Crystal asked, looking around curiously.

“It is mostly potions with mild effects,” Edwin explained, “they simulate the intoxication of alcohol, or other nonsense.”

Behind his back, Charles winked at her.

When the surprise faded, she started noticing something else, the barman had greeted them politely, but everyone else seemed to keep their distance from them, it was almost like they were scared of something. She tried to ignore the odd feeling for a while, but it was clear that it was not just an impression.

“Why are people afraid of us? Did something happen?” She asked, looking between the other two to study their faces.

“It’s a very funny story,” replied Charles, laughing, while Edwin grimaced.

“Please, Charles, there is no need to talk about this. I assure you it is nothing, Crystal, let us remain focused on the case.”

She was not deterred in the slightest by his patronising tone, she kept her gaze fixed on Charles until he relented.

“They are scared of Edwin,” Charles said in a lower voice.

“What? Why?”

For how much she and Edwin bickered, she knew he would never hurt anyone.

“It is not extremely common for a soul to escape Hell,” Edwin explained matter-of-factly, “and, as you well know, I have never exactly hidden the fact. There are many who think I somehow made a deal with Lucifer herself.”

“And it’s not only that,” continued Charles, “most of the incantations and rituals he uses shouldn’t be possible for a ghost because they require too much spiritual energy, so they don’t know exactly what he is capable of.” 

He said it proudly, and of course Crystal was impressed as well, but it was also a bit sad. From what she had gathered of Edwin’s life, he had been a bit isolated from his peers back then, and it seemed he still was, even if for different reasons. It was no wonder he didn’t like to come to these places.

“Maybe you should talk to some of them, if they get to know the real you, they will know you are actually a real softie.”

If looks could kill, Crystal’s head would surely have exploded in that moment. “I am NOT a softie.”

Charles was laughing so hard tears collected at the corner of his eyes. “You kind of are, love.”

She decided to go talk to some other people after that, wanting to give them some space. She had some basic self-preservation instinct after all.

Some people knew about Noora’s shop, but none of them seemed to have heard of the random disappearances, so it was a bit of a bust. She returned to the table Charles had claimed for them to figure out their next step, and she was still recounting what she had gathered, when someone approached them. Crystal wasn’t sure what kind of creature they were, but there was something about them that made her skin crawl.

“I’ve heard you talking about the witch,” they said, pronouncing the last word like it was a slur.

“Yes, we are trying to solve a mystery that occurred in her shop,” explained Edwin.

“You shouldn’t mess with her, she is a liar. I bet she gave you the ‘I’m just a good witch who stopped practising’ speech.”

Crystal noticed that every other being in the pub had stopped what they were doing to listen to the exchange. 

She had a sudden idea:

“Do you know who he is,” she said, pointing at Edwin and ignoring Charles’ panicked look of warning, “what he could do to you if you are involved in an act of discrimination against a poor girl who just wants to run a shop?”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. Do you really think someone like him could escape Hell?” The way they snarled, almost made it seem like-

“You are a demon,” Edwin said, before she could reach that same conclusion.

The demon’s eyes glinted. “And what if I am, pretty boy?”

“Oi, leave him alone,” interjected Charles, moving in front of Edwin with his cricket bat ready.

“That witch is mine, you hear me, stay out of my way. I have great plans for her and her shop.”

Edwin started muttering something in Latin, probably a banishment spell, but he was startled by another patron binding him with a golden rope.

“Stop!” Crystal yelled at the ghost who cast the spell. “Don’t you see what this demon is doing? We are just trying to help!”

The distraction was enough to allow the demon to transform their hands in long claws and lock them around Charles’ throat.

“Charles!” Crystal and Edwin shouted at the same time, before Edwin turned to the ghost who was still binding him.

“I swear I mean no harm to any of you, but I can’t lose him, please let me go, allow me to save him.”

The tone of his voice tore Crystal’s heart in two. She knew they could handle the demon, but there were too many people there and if they started going against them, things might become dangerous. Other customers were approaching, looking between Edwin and the demon to decide which side to take.

“Edwin, I’m sorry,” she said. Then her eyes turned white and she sent a flow of images through everyone else’s minds, memories of Edwin saving her from a misery wraith, preventing her from drinking poison, she was careful to only choose moments that were not too personal, that he might feel uncomfortable sharing. “I know you’ve heard rumours, but I tell you we are just here to help!”

Charles didn’t technically need to breathe, but the claws scraping at his throat were making the skin black, grey smoke pouring from the cuts. He was desperately trying to swing his bat at them and hitting only empty space, the arms moving in every direction, disappearing and forming again without ever releasing their hold.

The moment the ghost retracted the binding spell, Edwin raised his hands and started the banishment incantation again. His eyes looked like they were on fire.

Other people recognized the type of spell he was casting and tried to help by confining the demon, until a red portal finally appeared to swallow them.

Edwin collapsed on a table from the exertion.

“Edwin!” Charles yelled in a raspy voice, moving to his side in an instant. “Love, are you okay? You shouldn’t have done that, I would have found a weakness in those stupid liquid arms and freed myself on my own.”

Edwin managed a smile. “No version of this where I didn’t protect you.”

“I hate you when you use that against me.”

“Sure you do,” Edwin replied, turning around to hug him, the relief evident in both their faces. 

While the two continued whispering reassurances and promising - again, as if it were needed - eternal devotion to one another, Crystal tried to explain what happened and apologised for using her psychic powers to the others still gathered around them.

“I am sorry for trying to stop you friend, I hope it didn’t cause too much damage,” the ghost said.

Finally, Edwin moved back, only a little flustered by the public display of affection. “What is important is that you freed me in time.”

“Still, I am sorry. I should know better than to listen to gossip like this.”

“Well, I guess the case is closed. We should still check the shop in case there is some of the demon’s magic left.” He said, more to himself than the others, but he did nod at Crystal and he looked more grateful than murderous, so she allowed a sigh of relief. She didn’t think she would get away from the scolding so easily this time.

[artistactorathens]

Netflix being a bitch and canceling Every Good Queer Show Ever is absolutely not going to stop me from posting about DBD, so if you’ll allow me I am going to be so incredibly normal about my fanfic naming system for @painlandweek a couple of weeks ago (which was a wonderful event full of insanely talented fan works, go check out the collection on AO3 when it’s back from the dead)

This is more for me than anyone else, and it’s going to be a long one — incoming Overly Complicated Naming System under the cut

So, here are the names of my Painland Week fics:

1. Phantom Chills (sickfic)

2. Ghost Stories (myths/legends)

3. Spirit Moves (confession/first kiss)

4. Shadow Boxes (domestic au)

5. Dead Letters (canon divergence/casefic)

6. Vision Boards (free day)

7. Soul Searching (soulmate au)

They’re all [synonym for ghost] [plural noun], which started as an accident; I named Phantom Chills and Ghost Stories, realized the pattern, and ran a marathon with it. They also all have double meanings (a literal meaning and a figurative one) and I wanted both meanings to apply to each fic to the best of my ability. I think I did pretty well tbh, I’ve outlined the meanings/how I applied them as well:

- phantom chills: chills that aren’t real (i.e. as the result of a spell), can also be a ghost feeling cold (Charles relives the symptoms of his death)

- ghost stories: stories meant to scare your friends (like the one Fraser tells Charlie), can also be ghosts telling each other stories (like the ones Charles and Edwin tell each other)

- spirit moves: from “as the spirit moves” aka bring spontaneous (Edwin asking Charles to kiss him), can also be a ghost shooting his shot (also Edwin asking Charles to kiss him)

- shadow boxes: fighting inner demons (like Edwin’s internalized homophobia), can also be a ghost with a lot of boxes (Edwin and Charles had a lot of collectibles to pack before moving into the office)

- dead letters: letters you can’t deliver or return to sender (like Uncle Francis’s letter to Kit that can’t be delivered any more bc they’re both dead), can also be a ghost’s writings (Edwin — he wrote the poem)

- vision boards: pasting up ideas for the future (like what board games to play? Or just how nice it looks), ghosts playin board games (they do in fact do that this one was a bit of a stretch)

- soul searching: doesn’t end in an s, means finding yourself (like Charles and Edwin) and finding each other (like Charles and Edwin)

Alright that’s it lol sorry for the long post. SAVE DEAD BOY DETECTIVES!!!!

[science-lings]

29 - Peter is Tony's guardian angel who helps him with his drinking problem. Tony doesn't want to disappoint ~~his kid~~ his guardian, and Peter always looks so sad and a little bit scared whenever Tony has a long night of drinking. "There's only so much I can do, Mr. Stark. This is something you have to do on your own." Except Tony's not really alone. He has his support system, including Pepper, Rhodey, and of course, Peter

Okay, I tried writing a fic but it ended up being long and weird and rambly so I’m just going to do a basic list fic if that’s valid. (it ended up being more of the guardian angel au as a whole whoops) 

-Peter was assigned to watch over Tony ever since he was little. Peter was the one that prompted Edwin to become like a second father to Tony because as we all know, Howard is a dick that doesn’t deserve forgiveness

-Peter couldn’t be seen by anyone but Tony so for a long time, he was just an imaginary friend 

-eventually, Tony saw Peter less and less and completely forgot about him but it didn’t matter, Peter was always still there, trying his best to keep Tony safe but it wasn’t easy

-Tony had the worst luck, he would be stuck with bad people and pressured into doing bad things and Peter was pretty much powerless to stop it 

-Peter thought that it was because he was a bad guardian angel but it turned out that Obadiah is part demon and managed to hide it from Peter 

-Peter followed Tony when he was kidnapped by the ten rings and did his best to keep him from dying, including helping Yinsen come up with the idea of an electromagnet in Tony’s chest 

-When they get back from Afganistan, Obie confronts Peter and ends up ripping his wings out (which because angels aren’t actually physical beings, isn’t as gruesome as it sounds) Which turned Peter into a human and he’s stuck on earth with no wings and with the ability to die 

-He wakes up covered in his own blood at the Malibu mansion and gets found by Tony who at that point saw Peter’s face as a hallucination for years and didn’t realize that he was real 

-While Tony makes the Iron Man suit, Peter makes himself wing implants (because part angel biology is a lot different than human biology) 

-Peter is hidden in the mansion from everyone and Tony tries to figure out what to do which leads to them testing out their new inventions in Guimira to destroy the weapons that Obie had put there 

-Before they can confront Obadiah, that bald eagle motherfucker paralyzes Tony and forcibly steals his arc reactor and kidnaps Peter at gunpoint by messing up his new wings 

-Tony manages to get his old arc like in the movie and goes to find his angel friend and he finally tells Pepper and Rhodey about Peter

-Obie gets into his new suit and Peter manages to get away but he gets distracted by finding his real wings, and Maleficent style, they’re still moving like they were still connected to him 

-He doesn’t get far enough to get his wings back though 

-Obie uses him as a hostage so that Tony won’t attack him but Peter, being not completely human still, dents the armor and distracts Obadiah enough for Tony to attack and he goes back for his wings 

-Battle plays out like the movie blah blah blah until Peter gets his wings back and ends up with two pairs of working wings. Now that he’s back to his angel status but still keeping his physical form he helps Tony fight Obadiah with Peter focusing on the supernatural side of things 

-Since Peter is both angel and human, he starts to age normally and Tony ends up adopting him just to keep everything legal even though technically Peter had been conscious for a few decades prior, Still relatively young for an angel

-Peter still tries to protect Tony but they end up trying to protect each other

-ANYWAY THERE WAS A PROMPT TO THIS SHIT 

-Before Peter became human, Tony could only see Peter when he’s drunk or heavily sedated 

-so his original reason for drinking was just to see Peter and not be alone 

-it escalated very quickly and Peter tried his hardest to convince Tony to stop  

-it never worked. Tony was too stubborn and Peter couldn’t technically stop him. Eventually though, Tony started to regret it but he was too far gone 

-Tony eventually takes the first step when Peter convinces him that he’ll always be there no matter if they can see each other or not 

-It’s not easy and Tony slips up a lot but Peter is always there to help him out when he does 

[poisonedjoinery]

The Raid - Ivar/Reader

Part Four

Part Three   Part Two   Part One

Authors Notes: I thought I could end it, but it seems I still have some more to go. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this fic, and I hope you have all enjoyed it too. Gif not mine - if you know the owner, please do let me know.

Summary: Ragnarsons are through the city walls, the castle is breached, and Ivar is coming for blood. He believed that nothing could be worse than what he had imagined, but that all changes when he finds you.

Warnings: Gorey battle, emotional trauma, heartache.

If you feel other warnings should be used, please do let me know.

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

As night fell around the city and it’s people, The King toasted with the Lords of his surrounding land. 

“Well done on defeating the enemy my King. Your greatness knows no bounds.” Announced one of the Lords. A resounding agreement rung around the chamber, as all the men raised their cups in honor of The King.

“Thank you Lord Edwin, it did not take much doing to keep those savages at bay. My men have informed me that the heathens have left the land they were camped in.” Smiling he took a large gulp of wine, as the other men chuckled and congratulated him further.

“But… my King, do you not fear that they will return?” The youngest Lord Armen had spoken this, his eyes wide with worry and fright. He had not been a Lord long, he came into succession after his father was killed by the heathens. The King gave his most winning and dashing smile,

“My dear Lord Armen, I do not believe we have seen the last of them. But… I do believe that the son’s of Ragnar Lothbrok will be long dead before the Northmen ever return to our shores again.” The men cheered loudly, chinking their cups together and drinking deep.

Out in the darkness, men still guarded the ramparts and high towers. Though not as many as there should have been. Most had been injured in the siege, or had been killed. Some fled like cowards, wanting to live more than fight for the honor of a malicious King. Those that stood guard however, were unawares of the fleet that waited just beyond their sight.

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

Ivar waited, watching the men pacing the ramparts with their swords and bows. Heard the the quiet rustle of the wind against the earth, and in the distance the laughter of men. He was desperate to get inside, to find you. But he knew that he would have slowed down the small batch of men that were currently sneaking their way in, through the tunnels his captor had told him about. So… he waited. His body was thrumming with anticipation. He knew the men had to take their time so as not to be heard or seen before they opened the gates. But still, Ivar wasn’t a patient man. Keeping his pale gaze upon his target he spoke quietly to the man next to him.

“What do you think is taking Ubbe so long?” His voice was taut, his ears straining to hear any sign that they had been successful. Bjorn replied in a low whisper.

“I do not know, but he will not fail you brother. Not after we have come so far. Have a little trust in him.” His gaze flitted quickly from the castle to Ivar, seeing how the young man was tense, ready to ride at a moments notice. More quiet moments passed, the three thousand men and women at the Prince’s backs not making a sound. Watching. Waiting. 

Ivar saw it then. One of the guards dropped out of sight. Then another. One was wrenched back, sword plunged into his chest to the hilt then thrown over the wall. The torches were extinguished, all except one. Ubbe was signalling the army. The gates were open. Snapping the reins, his horses started galloping, the wind rushing around him. How peculiar it was, that the only sound came from thousands of running feet. The army running at his back remained silent, not wanting to alert the Christians to their presence. The gates came into view in the darkness, closer and closer. He could smell the cities stench. He pulled ahead of the others, gaining ground with every breath he took. He could see each individual stone, each pane of glass. His chariot crossed the threshold, Bjorn at his side. He felt his excitement rise, he couldn’t hold it any longer. Throwing back his head, he let out an almighty roar. Sound exploded around him as three-thousand other voices rang out with his.

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

You heard it, even from this distance. Even in your delirious state you heard it. A blood churning scream. No… he wouldn’t scream. He had not screamed since he was a babe in arms. It was a battle cry. A roar. The roar of a man who had washed his soul in blood, danced with the demons and crawled his way out on the other side. He is coming for me. Your blood quickened in your veins, your skin tingled knowing he was so close. Your cracked and bloodied mouth opened the barest fraction, your voice a whisper.

“Ivar.”

You tried to pull yourself up, but your wounds and the small cage would not allow you to do so. You could scream. Opening your mouth you tried to call out, but all that came was a broken husk. Battle cries bellowed in the streets below, you turned your face trying to pull your eyelids open. But they wouldn’t budge. Running your damaged fingers over your tongue you tried to wipe some of the congealed blood from your eyes.YES… a small glimmer of light. A fire perhaps?War horns blared, the Christian army running out to defend itself. The clanking of metal, the screams of men as they were cut down, the roar of fire as it consumed wood and flesh. Your cage lurched dangerously to one side as it was lowered quickly. 

“Hurry… get the bitch down.” You heard The Kings panicked voice as he shouted orders to his men. The cage slammed into the ground, jarring your body. Focusing out of your one eye you saw a guard fumbling with the lock. 

“Hurry UP YOU BRAINLESS OAF!”

“I… I’m sorry my King… I ju..” But whatever it was, the guard didn’t get to say. The King had thrust a dagger into the back of the mans neck. Blood spurted out of his mouth and he gaped and clawed at his throat. Withdrawing the dagger, The King pushed him to the side, and grabbed the keys himself. Removing the lock he smirked down at you.

“Well… it seems that I underestimated your people. But no matter… what better way to bargain for my life than by offering yours in return hmm?” Flinging the door open he grabbed your arm and hauled you out of the cage. Wrapping his arm around your chest, he held you against him as a human shield and twisted his dagger against your naked flesh.

“Now be a good whore, and walk.” You stumbled, trying to make your mangled legs work. But The King, blind to your pain, marches you towards the main square of the city.

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

Swinging his sword, Ivar cleaves a mans head from his body grinning as his blood lashes his already stained face. One after another he cuts them down, not caring if it is a man or woman. They are all tainted by what their King has done, and they must pay with their lives. Blood filled his mouth as he strikes a mans jugular, splitting it open like the belly of a pig. 

“Ivar… IVAR!” Hvitserk calls to him from the top of a stone stairway.

“There are no more men… we have captured them or killed them.” Running his gaze over the slew of bodies, Ivar sees that his brother is right. Turning he calls back to him.

“Did you ask them… do they know?” His eyes looked pleadingly at his brothers, who shook his head.

“No… they… they do not know where she is.” Fists clenching, Ivar scanned the ground for anyone still alive. He needed to know. 

“FIND HER!” Snapping at the reins, he urged the horses through the streets. Images of burning constructs flashed past his gaze.There had to be someone. Someone who knew where she… He stopped mid thought. The courtyard where they had first entered was quiet all except for a few voices. He slowed to a stop, just out of sight of the courtyard and listened.

“Let her go!” Bjorn’s deep voice rang out around the stone yard, as a muffled sob echoed out.

“No… your word means nothing boy. I want to speak with your brother… the cripple.” A woman’s cry rang out. (Y/N). Crawling out from his chariot, he kept himself low to the ground, quietly crawling his way towards the men. Towards you. 

“I do not know where my brother is.” Bjorn was stalling for time, he knew he couldn’t talk the bastard down.

“Then you best get someone to go find him… otherwise you will be taking your whore back in pieces.” He must have done something, as (Y/N) screamed in pain. Red fogged his vision, as heavy footfalls ran his way. Sigurd. Spotting Ivar, he ran over and knelt beside him.

“He has her brother… he..” Sigurds face was pale, eyes darting to the courtyard and back. Ivar bared his teeth, keeping his voice low he pulled Sigurd closer.

“Tell me brother, is there a way for me to get behind him?” Frowning Sigurd remained quiet for a moment, thinking over the grounds layout.

“Yes… yes I think so.” Glancing down he drew a circle in the dirt with his finger, he placed an X where they currently sat and where Bjorn and The King stood in the courtyard. 

“If you go down there,” He pointed to the small path that lead away from them.

“You will go full circle and end up.. right behind him.” Ivar nodded, 

“Now brother I want you to go and wait out of site, close to where Bjorn is. I need you both to get her away from him safely. Do you understand?” His eyes flashed at his brother, who nodded.

“Then go and wait for my signal.” Letting Sigurd go, Ivar turned himself around and crawled down the path his brother had pointed out.

“I am coming my love… I am here.” He clambered over bodies and through blood, slipping on the guts of a guard who had been cleaved in two. Some men were still alive, barely… but he paid them no mind as moved. Ears straining he finally caught the murmured voices of Bjorn and The King. Quietly, he edged to the corner and peered round it. There, stood barely five feet in front of him, was The King. Ivar could just see your legs, but they were wrong. They looked wrong. Slowly crawling forward, he kept low to the ground watching listening for any sign of other guards around him. Bone. That was bone. That’s why they looked wrong, your legs were broken, the bone protruded from the skin of your right leg. Blood, so much blood. He didn’t think there was a clean patch on you. Bjorn said something to him, as he got closer. The King responded as he turned your body with his. You were naked, your body was broken and battered. Strips of skin hung from your arm and side. The Kings dagger dug into your stomach slightly, causing a small trickle of blood to run down the blade. Bjorn’s voice sounded again.

“He is coming, just let her rest.” Gratitude raced through Ivar, hearing his brother barter for your comfort.

“I do not think so Bjorn Ironside, if he is not here in the next few moments I will sink my blade into her pretty flesh.” Bjorn started forward but The King held on tighter, digging the blade in harder.

“Now now son of Ragnar, how do you think Ivar would react if he found out that your recklessness caused the death of, not only his whore… but that of his unborn child?” Ivar’s blood ran cold, a loud ringing sounded in his ears. You was carrying his child.

“How do I know you are not lying?” called Bjorn. The King gave a grotesque laugh.

“Because I have seen my wife bare eight of my sons, and seen their wives bare them sons. I know how a woman’s body looks when it changes to allow her to carry a child.” Grinning he bent his head low to your neck and inhaled deeply.

“And this little heathen whore is carrying the child of a crippled bastard.” Ivar did not think, he moved like the lightening produced by Thor himself. He swiped his ax out, severing The Kings left leg from his body. Sigurd, who had spotted Ivar moments before, was already running with Bjorn, catching your body as you fell. The Kings screams filled the night air, as Ivar pulled himself above him roaring in his face.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM! I AM IVAR THE BONELESS, AND YOU CAN NOT KILL ME OR MINE!” Raising his fists he brought them down hard against The Kings face, shattering his nose, his jaw, his eye socket.

“IVAR!” Bjorn’s voice broke though the red haze, causing him to stop and turn. Hvitserk had arrived with the rest of the men and women, racing over he had draped furs around your body as Sigurd held you close.

“We have her brother… we have her. She is safe.” He crawled to your side, his hand shaking as he gently touched your battered face. His voice a mere whisper when he spoke.

“(Y/N)… my love… please… please wake for me.” His eyes burned, watching, waiting. But you did not move. Your breathing barely there. Tears stained his bloodied face as he rested his lips against your hair.

“Please wake… I do not think I can live in this world without you.”

But you did not wake. The world was silent, only to be shattered by the echoing sobs of a brokenhearted man.

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

Part Five   Part Six

Thank you for reading my Ivar fic, I hope you enjoyed it and I appreciate your time.

Tags: Tagging my Sugar Pringle @dreamingoftheza2

and my new friends @iamcraving @littlepanda-love @aphnxrising @sea-phoam-goddess @captstefanbrandt @cbouvier23 @cc8302 @nothingeverdies @czescdaria @youngestxhearts @juliludu @directionlessbuthappy @funmadnessandbadassvikings @kathieycarrerarosshley @opalscarab @missrobyn81

[takadasaiko]

Such Great Heights: Part Twelve (a Wynonna Earp fic)

FFN II AO3

Part Twelve

Willa.

She had been through this already. A girl with a different name and a face that had seemed vaguely familiar that had shot Peacemaker and sent Lou screeching down to hell. Wynonna had loved her sister, but the woman that had returned to them had been a shadow of her former self. Cold and callous, willing to sacrifice anything or anyone to get what she wanted. She had blamed Bobo for a while, but the truth was that Willa had broken at some point, and no one else was going to save her. If there had been any hope of her sister coming home again, it would have been something only Willa could have chosen.

But she hadn't. She had gone wrong and Wynonna had been forced to do the one thing she swore she wouldn't: put her down. Then she had turned up in the dream world and as soon as Wynonna knew what was going on she had shut her out. There had been no way that she was real. Kind and loving and loyal…. all things she might have been without all the darkness in her life. It hurt to think about the might have been's, but Willa was dead. She was gone, and Wynonna had fixed her focus on Alice.

Now her sister was back. Again. And she had betrayed them. Again. Wynonna wasn't sure she could do it all over again.

Bobo hadn't had a lot to go off when he had woken up. He and Doc had gone after a few Revenants trying to make their escape and Bobo had toppled their escape vehicle. Wynonna had seen the aftermath of the fight and the damage done, and all she could remember thinking was that she was glad he was on their side now.

From what he had said Willa had climbed out of the toppled van, surprising him, and she'd barely hesitated when she'd pulled the trigger at point blank range before leaving with a Revenant of her own free will. It seemed pretty cut and dry. Whatever some of the others had brought with them from the dream world hadn't affected Willa.

Wynonna had stepped outside to try to find some peace from the increasingly full house only to find Bobo Del Rey balanced on the railing around the porch, long legs stretched out in front of him. He was leaned against a pole with his head tilted back, eyes closed, and the only sign that he hadn't dozed off there the fact that he hadn't dropped the cigarette dangling between two fingers. The closer she crept, though, the more she thought that might just be a matter of time. If the ash collecting at the tip was anything to go by he hadn't taken a drag in a few minutes.

She was in the process of turning to find a different place to hide away and think when a rough voice stopped her. "Looking for me or did I steal your spot?"

Blue eyes had cracked open by the time Wynonna turned back and he was watching her as he tapped his cigarette and tried to take a drag. He frowned at it, dug for his lighter, and relit it. He looked exhausted, his hands a little shaky as they worked, and she wondered if that came from dying or everything else that had happened. It had been so much easier when she hated him, when she blamed him for everything, but she'd gotten to know the man behind the demon. It made it harder to ignore the pain he couldn't keep hidden in his eyes or the stress in the way his shoulders hunched, strangely thin looking with only the thin Henley to cover them.

Wynonna cleared her throat awkwardly. "This may be one of the first times I've seen you without that obnoxious coat of yours."

"Not sure where it went yet," he answered with a shrug. "Woke up without it and my boots."

Wynonna's eyes traveled down the long legs to find sock covered feet rather than the usual heavy boots he wore. "Right, sorry. Waverly put them away when we… got you back here."

He hummed a little and took another drag of his cigarette, his gaze distant.

"Look… I'm sorry about Willa."

"Not your doing."

"Yeah, well…. still. I know I've…" She grimaced, trying to find the words and coming up short. She pulled in a deep breath, steeling herself. "I know how much you loved my sister. It can't be easy having her do this… again. Especially after everything in the dream world."

He didn't react at first, merely kept his gaze fixed on nothing as he smoked. Finally he leaned back, his head thumping lightly against the pole and he let his eyes slide closed again. "She said it was the only way."

The words were so soft that Wynonna almost didn't hear them. "What was?"

Bobo shrugged. "Shooting me, I 'spose. She said it was the only way to get the kids back."

"Bobo…."

Icy blue eyes snapped open again and he glared a little at her. "I'm not an idiot, Wynonna. I know she thinks she's struck a deal with him and that he'll never honour it." He shifted and pulled a knee up, wincing as he did and his hand went to what must have been the still-healing wound. "Desperate people do desperate things."

Wynonna stared at him. "Are you seriously telling me you're not pissed?"

"Oh, I am," he chuckled, the words drawn out. "And frustrated and tired. I've been at this a long time, and I did warn you, Wynonna girl. The weight on your shoulders only gets heavier. The more you give a damn, the more you've got to lose, and it will drive you a little crazy if you let it." He flicked the butt of his cigarette out. "I though Josiah'd be the one to break it. He was good. Lot like his daddy, but they strung him up and I couldn't stop 'em. Couldn't have if I tried. All it'd've done was taken me down with 'im. Edwin had the drive, but no give. Your daddy…. you know all 'bout him." He tapped the bottom of his pack and knocked another cigarette out, lifting it to his lips. "Willa and I were gonna save each other. She waited for me. She…. I saved her from them and she was gonna wait 'till she was old enough to take me with her. Then there's you." He lit his cigarette and inhaled. "Wouldn'ta bet on it early on, but you're more like him than even Josiah was."

Wynonna swallowed hard. "You think I can finish this?"

"First Earp since your great-great granddaddy that I've openly aligned with. What do you think?"

"I think it wouldn't kill you to say you have faith in me, asshole," she huffed, but her lips quirked up a little as she spoke.

"I think I used up my faith a long time ago and you Earps just keep trying it."

"I'm going to finish this, Bobo. Clootie won't be coming back when I'm done with him. My daughter's life depends on it."

"And desperate people do desperate things," he said, his voice a little sad.

"Are you sticking around?" The question left her without permission, but if she were honest she had been waiting for him to leave since he'd chosen to join them. Waiting for him to choose to try to lay low and survive this in any way he could. He'd stayed longer than she might have expected, and with Willa popping back up, this might just be his breaking point.

He swung his legs over to slide off the railing, discarding his used up cigarette "Well, I was there when it started. Might as well stick it out to the end." There was more there, but she supposed she couldn't expect him to share everything. He'd been more honest with her in these last few minutes than she thought he'd been with her since they'd met. He didn't say any more as he moved back into the house, leaving her alone with her thoughts just as she had originally wanted when she'd walked out there in the first place.

When she slept she could still feel his breath against her neck, curled up behind her with his arm carefully looped around and her back against his chest. It felt comfortable. Safe. For just a moment it felt like they were still in that little house that they had bought in Purgatory and catching the last few minutes of sleep before the alarm went off and the Svane household stirred to a sleepy morning of coffee, breakfast, and work.

They'd been pulled from that world, though, and this was only the echoes of it that she saw when she let herself drift off to sleep. She wished she could enjoy it for a little while but it always went the same way.

She would wake to hear Grace crying, but no matter how hard she looked for her, she was always just beyond her reach. Every night following the one that she'd woken in the dank little cellar that Clootie had tossed her in she had searched and searched only to wake and be separated from them both.

She wasn't sure when she'd drifted off to sleep that afternoon, but when she felt him nuzzling against the nape of her neck, his voice soft and mumbling as he begged her to stay, she knew she had. It didn't matter. No matter how much she wanted to stay, the dream played out, so there was no point in delaying.

Willa wiggled out of his embrace, turning just a moment to find Robert still sleeping. He looked so peaceful like that, laid out on his side with his arm still stretched over her side of the bed, fingers loose and the lines in his face relaxed like he didn't have a care in the world. She bent down, meaning to steal a kiss, but she found herself in a hallway instead, her bedroom gone and the hall stretched on, Grace's cries echoing from somewhere down the way. A dream. Right.

Bare feet padded against the wooden floor as she made her way down, holding onto the reality of what it was. She'd never found her before like this, and she had no reason to think that this would turn out any different.

The hall ended, though, for the first time in her memory, and Willa turned, finding Grace sitting on the floor with tears in those big blue eyes and she pointed at her slipper. "Kitty threw up in my shoe, mama."

A short laugh escaped Willa as she bent down, scooping the little girl up and holding onto her, startled at how real she felt. Grace wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and buried her nose in her shoulder. "It's okay, baby," Willa promised. "We'll get it cleaned up."

"It's scary."

"What is, baby?"

"The sound."

"What so-" A loud crash cut her off, like a gunshot, and Willa tightened her grip on Grace, even as she began to squirm. She wasn't going to let her go. She wouldn't.

"Daddy," Grace said stubbornly as she tried to break free and Willa followed her gaze down the hall. She couldn't hold on any longer and the little girl squirmed loose, running down the hall to where a form lay at the other end.

Willa followed, a knot growing in her chest with each step. Grace stopped in front of him and Willa knew who it was before she saw the face, those blue eyes she knew so well wide and vacant, dark blood coating his t-shirt from the entry wound the bullet she had fired had left in him. She swallowed hard and knelt on the ground next to him, her hands trembling as she reached out to his face. He wouldn't stay dead. He couldn't. Only Peacemaker could kill him and she hadn't… she wouldn't have killed him.

She jolted awake, leaned against the door in the backseat of a vehicle she and the Revenant had taken when Robert had destroyed the one that they were escaping in. Grace wasn't there and neither was Robert. In that moment she had never felt more alone.

The Revenant that had survived Robert's attack stalked over to the car and tore the back door open, snapping at her to move. She was glad that she had already woken up or she would have fallen out into a heap on the ground. Instead she leveled a glare at him as she moved past him, spotting Clootie just ahead. He tilted his chin up, strange gold gaze fixed on the Revenant. "Is that how you treat our guest?"

"No, boss," the Revenant mumbled, and Clootie barely flicked his fingers. The Revenant fell immediately, a sharp cry escaping him as he started to rithe on the ground, twitching and screaming.

Willa watched the display of power, her gaze steady and her expression blank. She could feel Clootie watching her for a reaction, for even a little discomfort as a man screaming in agony. "You tried to cross the boundary with Robert once, didn't you?"

She looked over at that. "I did."

"And?"

"Obviously it didn't work. We didn't get very far before the pain hit him."

"Miles here has never crossed the boundary, but he knows now what it feels like, don'tcha Miles?" Clootie waited a moment and nudged the now foaming Revenant in the ribs, receiving another cry of pain for his efforts. "Don't you?"

"Yes!" came the strangled reply and he curled into himself a little more.

Clootie snorted. "I imagine there was none of this with Robert. He's too proud. Too stubborn. It's amazing how far he's come."

"I suppose you did him a favour," Willa said, wondering if the sarcasm was as evident to the demon as it was to her.

He chuckled "I imagine he wouldn't think so, but there are dark corners in every human being that are just waiting to be explored. Men like Robert used to be never have the courage to seek that out, but if nudged - even if shoved - they find that there's power in it." Clootie had moved progressively closer and closer as he spoke, stepping around the twitching Revenant at their feet and he lifted a hand to Willa's face. "You know that, don't you, my dear? You're not afraid to indulge your darker tendencies to get what you want."

The spark behind the conversation clicked with her and she met that strange gaze of his. "You found my niece."

"I did."

She waited for a moment, but the only filler to the silence between them were the now muffled cries of pain from Miles on the ground. Willa pushed a sharp breath from her nose. "And?"

He smirked at her, producing a cell phone from his coat pocket. "She's with your aunt. You're going to call Ms McCready and tell her that the war's been won and that it's time to bring Wynonna's little girl home."

Willa stood still for just a moment, staring at him rather than the outstretched phone. This was the moment where she decided how far she was going to take this. She could call Gus. She could even convince her that she needed to bring Alice, but then the little girl's life would be in danger. If she didn't, though, then Clootie would know that she'd been playing him and she'd lose any opportunity to find a way to take him out for good.

Her gaze shifted down to the phone and she reached up, snagging it from him. "If you want me to make the call, shut him up."

Clootie smirked and the Revenant went utterly silent at the twitch of his wrist, and if Willa didn't know better she would have thought he was dead. Maybe he was. She pulled in a deep breath and hit send on the number pre-dialed for her.

The house had gone quiet in the mid afternoon as energy started running dry, the sleepless night catching up with them and leaving them drained. Waverly couldn't sleep though, no matter how tired she was. Nicole had gone into the sheriff's station to get some work done and Waverly hadn't gotten back to sleep since she left.

Finally she gave up trying, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and reaching for her sweater to pull around her shoulders.

The house was dead quiet, which was strange for as many people as it held when she had dozed off. The only sound she heard was a rummaging sound from the front and she moved towards it, wondering if she should have grabbed a weapon.

The fight or flight reaction dissipated as soon as she saw the culprit behind the noise. Bobo was looking for something in the front closet, coat hangers scraping across the metal pole they were hung on. He didn't seem to notice as Waverly made her way down the stairs. She cleared her throat, finally drawing his attention. "If you're looking for your stuff, it's in the closet in the room you were sleeping in."

"Ah," he managed, turning towards what had become a spare bedroom at some point, his focus switched over to that closet instead.

Waverly followed quietly, watching his movements and frowning a little. He was stiff and much slower than usual as he pulled the door open and found what he was looking for, his shoulders a little more hunched down, and when she caught sight of his eyes as he turned to take a heavy seat on the bed to work his feet into his boots, she saw how tired he looked. "Was that the first time you've slept?"

He looked up, blinking owlishly at her. "What'd you mean?"

"Since we got back. Have you slept at all this week?"

"Been sleepin' a lot since last night."

"Not sure being dead counts."

He snorted, a very small smile tilting his lips. "You worried about me, Angel?" He stopped then, the pet name almost swallowed at the end as he spoke it, and Waverly pressed her lips together a little. Angel. He'd called her his angel since she was small, but in the dream world, in a world where Robert Svane hadn't begged for his Angel's name as he had died, that had been Grace's nickname. His daughter. Her own connection to Bobo was still so complicated and there was so much that he flat-out refused to tell her that she didn't even want to contemplate how the dream world had laid that one out. She couldn't focus on it, not now. It didn't matter. Not right then, with the struck look that he was so desperately trying to hide behind a mask of indifference.

"Yeah, between you and Wynonna trying to ignore how much pain you guys are in, I've got my hands full," she said, her voice gentle and she tried to keep it at least a little light.

"Gotta stay focused. We're too close to let it slip now," he huffed, standing to shrug his coat on.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Out. Makes them nervous when I disappear for long stretches and as useless as some of 'em are, better to have them on our side than Clootie's."

Waverly nodded slowly. " I mean… you were kinda dead. Are you up to it?"

He snorted a mirthless chuckle. "I'll live," he promised with a wink as he passed by her.

Waverly didn't chase him down. Like Wynonna, all she could do was say her piece and he would either come around on his own or get slammed in the face by what he was trying to avoid. With Willa alive and working against them, she worried it would be sooner rather than later.

Just as he'd predicted the Revenants answering to him were tied up in knots that he had disappeared after following the lead Freddy had given him. He was the one standing not just between them and Clootie, but between them and the Heir when this was all said and done. The deal struck for their freedom after after Bulshar's defeat had been negotiated by Bobo himself. If he didn't make it through this, they had no reason to believe that they would have friends on any side. He was their hope of getting out of this.

He'd settled the questions down, leaving out the part about dying. Leaving out most of what happen, if he thought about it too hard. It always had been better if they saw him as invincible.

Bobo was on his way towards Shorty's when movement caught his eye. When he looked there was no one there, but ten steps later he caught the same out of the corner of his eye. Someone thought they were being clever.

He slipped into a back alley, keying in on the presence following him. He slowed his pace, waiting until the soft footsteps drew closer.

"Robert." His whispered name made him turn quicker than he had intended to and he knew the voice before he saw the face. Bobo tensed, ready for whatever fight was about to break out, but Willa stood with her hands held up in a non-threatening manner. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"That's rich, coming from you," he growled, putting a step between them. He didn't trust her, but he had no interest in fighting her. Of all the people he could and would tear into without a second thought, he knew that that was a line even he couldn't cross. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he truly hurt her.

She reached out as he stepped back. "I'm sorry. I needed them to believe me."

"And now you need me to believe you," he snapped, his voice low and rough. "Funny how that works."

Her hand dropped, never quite touching him and she pursed her lips together like she was looking for the right words. He frowned, a low growl escaping him. "Save it. I've been betrayed enough to know what it looks like. If you're fool enough to trust whatever bullshit Clootie's fed you, do what you do best. Go at it alone."

A small, startled sound left her at the words and something in him felt a little sick satisfaction from it. She pulled in a trembling breath, her eyes squeezing closed. "Okay," she breathed out. "Okay. We don't have time for your trust issues right now."

"Trust issues?" he snarled, his temper flaring dangerously and he re-took that step forward, causing her to back away from him and against the wall. "Wonder where I could have picked those up. I trusted you, Willa. I put everything on hold to look for you when Constance took you. Everything. But you left me to rot, same as Wyatt. We get a second chance and you choose Clootie. How do you 'spose I came by my trust issues? Don't you dare tell me you're doin' it for Gracie. You-"

The blow snapped his head around hard enough to hurt, his cheek and jaw burning from the open-handed slap. When he turned back she was fuming. "Hate me all you want for leaving you, Robert, but I would never risk Grace's soul just to get her back. What would be the point?"

He stared at her and he could feel the anger rolling off if her in waves.

She stepped forward so that there were only inches between then, holding his gaze stubbornly. "The only chance we have of getting her back - of getting them both back - is ending Clootie once and for all and freeing you. I can find a way to do that if he trusts me. We end this curse and we get our children back."

Wanting to trust and so many betrayals that came before warred against each other inside him and Bobo let his eyes slip closed, the anger flooding out of him and leaving him feeling empty and hurt. The anger was easier. The anger was always easier.

He swallowed hard, and when he reopened his eyes her gaze had softened. She reached up, her touch gentle bow, and she ran her thumb across the side of his face she had hit just moments before. "I know," she whispered, her voice straIned. "I know what you've been through. I know how you shove it aside and how you can't let anyone see. I know it now more than I ever could before, and Robert I am sorry, but I can't change what I did. I can't fix that, but we can end this curse and a chance at something like the life we lived in that dream world. Not perfect, but better. I want that chance, and I'm willing to risk everything to get it."

Bobo's hand found the side of her face and he leaned down, his lips pressed against hers and he felt her own grip shift, one hand slipping around to the back of his neck to pull him in closer and the other sliding down his chest and gripping his t-shirt. He flinched a little, half expecting the freshly-healed wound to still be tender and she pulled back. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and this time he couldn't help but believe her in that.

He pulled in a breath and leaned his forehead against hers. "I want to trust you, Willa. Give me something, anything-"

"Alice." She pulled back, almost like she was startled. "That was why I came looking for you. To warn you. Clootie wanted proof of loyalty."

"Of course he did."

"He had me make a call to Gus."

She paused for a moment and Bobo shrugged. "'Bout what?"

"That's who Wynonna has watching Alice. He had me call her and convince her to bring Alice here."

Blue eyes blinked. "He knows where she is but he's having her brought here? Not going there?"

"What are you thinking?"

"That Clootie's trapped here same as the rest of us. He kills the Heirs and the curse is done. He's free. He wouldn't risk bringing her here unless he had to and he ain't gonna risk-" His gaze shifted to Willa. "You're not goin' back."

"Like hell I'm not," she snapped.

"No, no, no. You've served your purpose. He ain't gonna take the risk in letting you live and having Peacemaker choose you again."

"I have to go back, Robert. I don't have anything on him yet. That's the whole point." She caught his wandering gaze. "I may not be the Earp Heir anymore, and I can live with that. I'm okay with that, but I'm not okay with him winning. If he wins you and I lose everything, and I'll burn this whole damn town to the ground before I let him touch my family again. Any of my family."

He loosed a frustrated growl. He knew that tone and there was no use arguing it. "Make yourself indispensable," he instructed, leaning his forehead against hers again and speaking lowly. "Make him think he can't do this without you."

"How?"

"That's something you'll have to find. You can. You're clever."

"Clever as Wynonna?" she teased softly.

"Runs in the family," he assured her. "Play on his vanity, do what you have to, and trust no one. You're in with your enemies, Willa. There's nothing easy about it."

"You did it for years," she murmured and Bobo snorted.

"Take it from my experience: it's exhausting. Find what you need and get out." He paused, feeling a knot forming in his chest and he kissed her again. "Don't leave me again."

"Never," she swore. "Go. Warn Wynonna. Be careful." Her fingers brushed along the side of his face. "I love you, Robert. I've never said that enough here, but I love you."

"Love you too. Now go. Before you tip your hand."

It was everything he could do to release her, but he had to. It was that or force her to come back to the Homestead with him. She was right though. Finding Clootie's weakness was their best bet, and if they wanted to end this, if they wanted a chance at anything more than the suffering they had all known for so long, they had to be willing to risk everything.

Notes: So, the last chapter I had trouble bringing together and this one was a freakin' kick to the feels to write. And poor Bobo. One of my favourite scenes is from S1 where he pulls Peacemaker from Wynonna and tells her that the weight is only going to get heavier. I love that so much. He sounds like he's speaking form so much experience and I'm really hoping that S3 will open up doors to allow those two to have serious conversations and land on the same side of things.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

WIP Ask Game

Thanks for the tag, @terresdebrume!

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I continue to have way too many WIPs, but here are the things I've touched in the past week:

UBD2: The doc for Came up from that lake of fire, the Payneland fic I'm currently posting to AO3 where the boys are temporarily restored to living bodies after they get out of Hell so they can hunt down a ghost-eating entity for the being that owns Edwin's soul.

Young blood: Formerly known as Demon!Charles. A Payneland fic where Charles is a half-demon university student that saves Edwin from being sacrificed and accidentally binds their souls together in the process.

Jenny: A one-shot set in the same universe as Came up from that lake of fire, where Jenny is indoctrinated into the DBDA found family, only partially against her will.

Chap7: A scene that I meant to include in Chapter 7 of Came up from that lake of fire, but forgot about, where Edwin tells Niko he's in love with Charles. It will be posted as a one-shot at some point.

Sickfic: A (hopefully) short Payneland fic where Charles picks up a cursed necklace during a case and begins to wither away of a mysterious illness. While he's stuck in bed, he figures out some things about his feelings for Edwin.

Tagging (with no pressure!) @eyesofshinigami @kuwdora @stinastar @handwrittenhello and @iboughtaplant (plus anyone else who wants to do it!

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Came up from that lake of fire

The first chapter of my first Dead Boy Detectives fic is up! You can find it here or read an excerpt under the cut.

Rating: M for canon-typical violence

Relationships: Edwin/Charles; Edwin & Niko; Edwin & Crystal; minor Crystal/Charles

Summary: When they’re caught during their escape from Hell, Charles and Edwin have no choice but to make a deal: they have one hundred days or find and entrap a powerful, malevolent spirit, or both of their souls are forfeit. But when they’re both temporarily restored to living bodies to aid in their search, being alive brings with it a host of new feelings, which neither of them know how to cope with, especially as their deadline looms closer and their quarry proves increasingly dangerous.

Charles scruffs Edwin by the back of the shirt and drags him backwards, pivoting so he’s the one directly in front of the demon, staring down those horrible little doll leg mandibles. Fuck, he’s never going to be able to look at a baby doll again. “You deal in souls, do you?”

The demon stops, its mandibles only inches from Charles’s face. He resists the urge to step back, staring directly into the empty eyes of the closest doll’s face. His hand is still gripping Edwin by the back of the shirt, keeping him close, and he can feel his friend pressed against his side, rigid with tension.

“Charles,” Edwin says in a low, warning voice.

“Deals?” the demon asks as the dolls’ laughter shrieks. “What do you think you can offer me? Your soul in exchange for his?”

“No,” Edwin snaps. “No, he is absolutely not offering that.”

“Your soul is already mine,” the demon continues, as if Edwin hasn’t spoken. “You’re in my territory. What, will you tell me that if I let him go, you won’t hit me with that cricket bat in your bag? You couldn’t protect yourself from schoolyard bullies . Do you think you can protect him from me?”

Charles smiles without humor. “Only one way to find out, mate.”

“Charles,” Edwin hisses again.

"Charles,” the demon echoes mockingly. “So, what deal are you offering me, little ghost? What can you give me in exchange for two souls that are rightfully mine?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Charles asks. “Tell me what you want and it’s yours. Anything, so long as you let me walk out of here with him.”

He knows it’s a stupid thing to say to a demon, even before he hears Edwin’s dismayed little groan. It would be a stupid thing to say to anyone. You don’t make promises like that in their line of work, especially not to someone who makes a game out of letting his pet monster tear spirits apart for fun.

The doll-spider shifts from leg to leg and Charles doesn’t think he imagines the sense of satisfaction that permeates the air, like he’s done exactly what the demon planned from the moment the staircase dumped them back into Hell. “You call yourself the Dead Boy Detectives, do you not?”

“That’s right,” Charles says. “We help spirits move on. Got a few ideas about where you could move on to, if you want suggestions.”

“And you find wayward spirits?”

“We are not hunting anyone for you.” Edwin tries to step forward, but Charles doesn’t release his grip on his shirt. “I will not buy my freedom with that of another spirit.”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty. Unless you want to watch what my pet will do to him, Edwin? Will that be your revenge for him paying too much attention to the pretty psychic?” It laughs at the look on Edwin's face, the sound made eerier when the doll-spider's childlike laughter joins in. “I’m not asking you to bring me another wayward schoolboy. No, you’re one of a kind in that regard, Edwin Payne. No one quite like you has ever escaped from Hell.”

Charles takes a moment to be proud of that. He’s always known Edwin is one-of-a-kind. “Then who do you want us to bring you?”

It’s disconcerting to feel the weight of all those glassy little eyes on him, to know that there are at least two entities watching him. “A spirit that escaped from me centuries before your little friend was a twinkle in his father’s eye.” A nasty pause. “Not that his father’s eyes ever twinkled for his disappointment of a son.”

Edwin doesn’t even flinch at the barb. “I already told you, we won’t be bringing any spirits to you.”

“And I told you, this was no innocent schoolboy. It can barely be called a spirit at this point. It calls itself the Deathless. It didn’t escape with wiles, it escaped by devouring its fellow spirits and absorbing their energy, until it was finally strong enough to consume a demon and use its powers to escape Hell. Now the Deathless wanders the earth, absorbing the energies of whatever wayward spirits that wander across its path.”

“And you want us to stop it?” Charles asks. “Because you care about the poor wayward spirits it eats, yeah? Real humanitarian you are.”

“No, I care about the power it’s consumed,” the demon says. “Enough power to practically make it a demon itself. I want the Deathless for myself.”

Of course it does. “Getting tired of terrorizing schoolboys with dolls? Ready to level up?”

As one, the dolls tilt their heads to the side in an inquisitive way. “You still have vocal cords because you’re mildly amusing, Charles Rowland. Don’t try my patience.”

Right. Charles swallows around a throat that feels dry for the first time in thirty years. “And you think we can bring it to you without getting devoured?”

“Oh, I’m not promising that,” the demon says. “I can send you back to your pretty psychic and her charming friend with tools that will aid your success, but it will be up to you to protect yourselves.”

Part of Charles hates that the demon knows of Crystal and Niko’s existence and has been paying enough attention to have opinions about how pretty and charming they are. Another part of him remembers Crystal kicking the shit out of Esther Finch and kind of wants to see what would happen to the demon if it was dumb enough to call her “the pretty psychic” to her face.

“So that’s it then,” Charles says carefully. “We find the Deathless and bring it to you and then Edwin’s in the clear? You give up whatever claim you think you have on his soul? Actually give it up, not just sell it to someone else as soon as we hand over the Deathless?”

“Exactly,” the demon says.

***

Read the rest here!