#like he summoned shadow demons and the shadow demons turned against him and dragged Hope off to the Shadowlands or whatnot

[mako-neexu]

"surely this time i will be normal for one day"

[suddenly remembers prison tower is supposed to end you bc goetia planned it but dantes took on the role of being your abbe faria and became your tiny light of hope in this prison of despair because he himself knows better than anyone how it feels to be an innocent soul, to be dragged and trapped in a life of despair, betrayal, and be casted away in a hell where madmen dont come out alive and so saves you by killing him, "the one who escaped the chateau d'lf", he's also summoned initially as a tool to kill you but dantes, initially being just a shadow, made ogawa heim because 'fuck u goetia' and caught feelings seeing guda's iron determination so fought alongside them and against the one who gave him a demon worm in his head. and just as he became your tiny light of hope in prison tower, you get to see him casually admit guda is his "destiny" and saw them as someone who is "radiant" after going through everything with them…like you know, a star. thats why both his np refer to guda in the new saint graph. because a star burns brighter than flames, more dazzlingly than fire that he himself is in awe of you and made a new alt solely because of you, inspired by you, even as he hurt himself by creating a new spirit origin, because his wish is solely for you to see the end of your journey and reach antarctica, because guda is a person -is a living human - who wants to see tomorrow and thus he split himself into two- or rather assigned himself and his other self in the singularity "count of determination (to bring about the 7 tribulations)" and as the "count of regret (you, his worry, who has to go through this harsh journey)". count of determination is the one who enacted the trials, because he is the spirit origin who is a ruthless murderer from his revenge story and thus must make sure guda goes through the merciless trials to go forward, yet count of regret is still worried all the same for guda considering the dangers of creating this world and with cagliostro around and other unpredictable variables, and in this ongoing journey thats why "black shadow" count is still on the look out for you. and in these trials he is both your ally and enemy that you must overcome because he wants!! you!! to move forward!!! even as you face your most trusted betray you, overcoming despair and hatred even as you drown in hopelessness seeing those you love die, overcoming his flames and as he extends a hand out and tempt you into a life where where you are a god of revenge, reaching an end that you hope for- a tomorrow that you want. (because we dont know what happened to the "real" dantes whereas dumas' version wrote that love extinguished his flames, and so left france behind with haydee. a fictional happy end that most likely didnt apply to the real dantes given his attitude to dumas and his version of the story since they never interacted again beyond dumas talking about writing his tale. )

an end that also isnt part of the famous Avenger, Count of Monte Cristo summoned to the grand order, only the popular interpretation/parts that people remember the most engraved in his spirit origin. and for him, this avenger, this part of his life where he is at his lowest who became your tiny light of hope in that prison tower, despite burning with eternal hatred chose love time and time again, save you, help you time and time again, because he doesnt want you to end up like him. one who has lost all things precious to you and so turning into a life of vengeance and blood, burning everything to cinders until you as well consume yourself, losing yourself in the process, becoming an empty shell, quietly dying as emptiness and quietness takeover the aftermath of those flames. you, as radiant as a star, don't deserve that kind of fate. you, his accomplice, his co-conspirator should never succumb to or have that kind of fate where only hate, sorrow and despair awaits you at the end nor does he want your journey to be at a standstill, idle, where you are helpless the more this story- this journey drags on and unable to move forward because of forces beyond your control.]

[through my teeth/clenches my fists] "oh. okay. so we're doing this now. okay."

[staroflightning]

TV Shade 🤝 Comics Shade

Accidentally sending a loved one to the Shadowlands and feeling guilty about it

[ragingbookdragon]

Of Nights So Hollow, Of Legends So Great

Night Culture AU!Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: Angst, Uh..Scary? I guess?

Author's Note: This is based on the wonderful @bunnvoid Night Culture AU and I felt compelled to write this at midnight because I couldn't stop thinking about it. Bunn, I hope I did your ideas justice! Honestly, I keep going back and forth between the drawings to make sure! I had fun writing it! -Thorne

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

It was said that at the heart of every legend there was a grain of truth. Legends are just pieces of history fabricated beyond wildest belief, built upon by centuries of retelling, each story sewing a new thread into the tapestry from whence it came. But that’s all that legends are. Threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable.

***

The old castle was a legend. Perhaps not the castle itself, but what supposedly resided inside. Supernatural creatures that skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out fresh blood in the night. That was one form of the legend, if you believed it. The other form was that of creatures who skirted down cobblestone alleys and between taverns, seeking out evil and destroying it where it plagued innocence.

The chateau lied in the midst of the Devilwood Wilds, just outside the City of Old Gotham. Even during the days when the sun would peek through the gray clouds, it appeared gloomy, blackened stone walls, charred shingles and shutters. The giant Devilwood and Shadow trees prevented sight of the doors of the castle; only the top could be seen, to get the real view, one would’ve had to go into the forest. There was another legend: the horrors of the Wilds.

Whispers on the school-grounds told of a creature, big and terrifying that could be summoned with ritual stones and fresh bat blood; those that summon the beast are never seen again. The adults were less convinced of the idea, though they still forbid their children from reaching even the edges of the forested area. Whilst they believed those that went in were never heard from again, it wasn’t from a creature eating them, but a lack of guidance. Starvation. Wild animals. The freezing fog that made your breath turn to frost.

Timothy remembers hearing those whispers when he passed the old schoolhouse. His mother and father didn’t let him interact with the common children, instead his lessons were taught by private tutors from the wealthiest lands, paid for with the Drake treasure of gold and gemstones.

What more so Timothy remembered was the inhuman being that appeared in his father’s manor, striking down his mother with a slash of black magic, his father following. He remembers the way his father’s eyes rolled back in his skull, fear spreading through his body as he hid in the corner of the room, whimpering and crying. And he most certainly remembered the cold hand of the demon sliding between his shoulder blades before it dug into his skin, piercing his flesh, laughing as he cried out in pain as pricks spread out along his back and down his arms.

Warmth bled down his back as black feathers pushed from his skin and Timothy panted as his fingernails grew in length, sharpening as they darkened. He remembered scrambling to his feet, darting away from the creature as he ran. Forgetting the corpses of his family and staff around him, throwing the door open, bursting into the night, and sprinting down the street, leaving a trail of bloody, black feathers in the direction of the Devilwood Wilds.

***

The first night was the least remembered but the darkest. Violent and corrupting nightmares slithering inside his head as he tossed and turned along the frigid ground in a feverish deathlike state, the wings at his back only growing in size.

The second night was less nightmare-ridden, but much more painful. Timothy had pierced a wing on a stray Devilwood tree, the syrup like poison only infecting the wound. He was hungry and cold. Exhausted and scared. He tried to remember all the books he read as a child of the knights facing the elements for a week in order to ascend knighthood; he couldn’t seem to recall a thing.

The third night seemed to be his last. He lay huddled up against a raised Shadow tree root, the ebony wood providing stability for his wounded wing. Timothy sniffled, dragging his knees to his chest as he lay his chin on his arms, ignoring the grumbling of his stomach as it ate itself in hunger.

A tree branch creaked above him, and he craned his neck up, eyes widening when he saw the glowing eyes of the masked creature. The legends were right. The creature’s head twisted sideways, reminding Timothy of an owl, then the other way, like it was observing him. It made a noise and he scrambled to the floor of the forest, curling his injured wing above his head and over his body to protect himself.

THUNK!

Timothy whimpered, ready to be torn to shreds, but when no vicious claws or snapping teeth came at him, he carefully peered between his open wing. There lie a satchel, as long as his forearm and as wide as his middle was. He looked up towards the tree branch to where the creature had sat, but there was nothing there anymore; he glanced around, it wasn’t in sight.

He blinked and shuffled towards the satchel, untying the drawstrings with fumbling clawed hands. Inside lay a pair of thick wool socks, a small blanket, and another small bag. Timothy pulled it from the satchel and opened it; half a loaf of bread and a chunk of meat the size of his hand were stowed inside.

Timothy forewent the etiquette he was taught as a child, giving into his ravenous desire as he devoured the meat. It was tender and juicy, the glaze a mixture of honey and cinnamon.

A memory flowed to his mind, the dinner after the rising of the first star, his family and staff all surrounding the dining table, a divine feast laid before them. The smiling faces of his mother and father stilled his hunger and he placed the food back in the satchel, uncurling the wool blanket. Timothy lay underneath the raised Shadow tree roots, one wing curled around him, and he fell into a restless sleep with tears frozen on his cheeks.

***

When he awoke the next morning, his wing was no longer torn and infected. A new feather had appeared where the wound had been. Timothy wanted to learn to fly. He’d owned a bird once. A Ruby Firebird, with long, crimson-colored feathers and big ruby eyes. It had been his only real friend and he’d watched it a lot. It couldn’t be that hard.

He stretched his wings out, unable to fight the urge to touch them with a single black claw. It tingled. Timothy blinked and beat them, unsure. He beat them again, this time a little harder, keeping at it until with each beat he was able to blow the long grass flat against the ground. A giddy smile came across his lips when the tips of his toes grazed the ground.

What he had not counted on was how tired he was going to get after only a few brief minutes of trying. His wings felt sore. Timothy would try again tomorrow to rise above the tall grass.

***

The creature would appear at odd times during the night and Timothy had stopped feeling the cold fear in his gut when it did. It never came near him; it just watched with the cocked head, back and forth, then would drop the satchel again and disappear. Sometimes there were scribbles inside. He didn’t know what they meant; but he knew the language. Thaatisgani. An old language his writing teacher had shown him one day. A language long died out amongst the common and even the elite folk.

Timothy wanted to know what it meant. He wanted to know what the creature was. His determination drew him to the front of the castle during the night of the harshest season storm. Lighting crackled across the sky, the thunder rolled along the clouds and the rain came down in torrents. He was freezing and soaked to the bone and the weight of his wings had him crawling up the steps, collapsing at the door.

He weakly raised a clawed hand, one nail scratching the black glazed door and he descended into darkness.

***

His mother liked to wear scented oils. They smelled of Queen’s Briar and Golden Belladonna. Before he was older, she used to let Timothy sit beside her when she would apply them to her wrist and ears. She would smile at him and tell him stories of far away lands.

Warmth spread across his eyes, and he rolled over in what he thought was his dream, only to roll onto the ground, landing awkwardly on his wings. Timothy whined and unfolded himself off the ground, rubbing his eyes, only to see the creature a hair’s breadth away from his face.

Timothy choked on his fear and scrambled away, only for the creature to grab his shoulder.

“Stay.”

He halted, looking back at it. “You speak the common tongue?”

The creature stared at him. “You are Timothy Drake. Son of Earl Drake.”

“I am,” Timothy responded, then looked at his hands. “But my family is…is dead.”

“Killed by a slithering demon from the Farstead realm.”

Tears prickled Timothy’s vision. “It killed my parents and cursed me.” He looked at the creature. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re cursed to believe what you think you are.” The creature waved a glowing hand and Timothy blinked in shock as the wings disappeared and his hands turned to normal. “It’s merely an illusion. You’ve only been tainted with cursed magic.”

It was much too complicated for Timothy to pull apart now. “Can I be healed?”

The creature blinked its glowing obs. “Cursed magic cannot be healed…but it can be trained.” They leaned forward, getting in his face. “I can teach you to control and transform.”

“You’re not going to eat me?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“…Yes.”

“You hesitated just a bit right there.”

A bottle rolled out from the corner of the room and the creature sighed, turning its head to it. “Richard. Jason. Come here.”

Two young boys, not that much older than Timothy appeared from behind a corner, guilty looks on their faces as though they’d been caught eavesdropping.

The creature nodded to Timothy. “Take him upstairs. He is dirty and tired.”

The tallest one, Jason, crossed his arms over his chest. “Just like that, Bruce? You’re going to take the witch boy in?”

“Pot-kettle,” Richard coughed, smiling when Jason elbowed him.

The creature, now known as Bruce, sighed. “Take the boy. He is tired.”

Jason and Richard obeyed, each hauling Timothy up under the armpits, leading him to a dimly lit staircase.

“Are you two going to eat me?”

“Yes,” Jason replied without hesitation.

“Jason!” Richard barked. “Stop.” He looked down at Timothy. “We’re not going to eat you Timothy…we’re going to help you. And that includes having a warm bed to sleep in and hot food to eat.”

Tears once again gathered in Timothy’s eyes, and he lowered his head as he sniffled. For once since that night, he felt safe.

These were the legends that prowled the city streets. They were supposed to be vicious and dark, evil and bloodthirsty, not ribbing and warm.

But then again, what are legends, but threads twined together, woven greater and farther than the original fable?

[chaozsilhouette]

Moonlit Musings

The night is such a perfect time to face one’s darkest truths. Shrouded in the moon’s light what can one do but admit to their flaws. It can be a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, only if you let it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a quiet night.

The full moon hung high in the heavens accompanied by millions of stars. Not a cloud to be seen, an ideal night for passions to run wild. Normally people would be taking out their telescopes or arranging romantic picnics.

Sadly, nights like these only filled Sun Wukong with dread. It was a night like this when he was finally able to return after the Journey. That was the night he learned he had lost a precious treasure.

When he returned, he expected to be greeted by his subjects until Macaque showed himself. He expected to be strangled as the pale furred monkie admonished him for his recklessness. He expected to watch as fury transformed into tearful joy as they embraced one another for the first time in over five hundred years.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The moment he set foot back onto Flower Fruit Mountain, he sensed something was very wrong. Like his previous return trips, his subjects greeted him with loud celebrations. The new mothers showed off their infants. The young ones wasted no time climbing all over him, taking in the scent of their king.

The immortal elders, however, looked concerned.

That was when he realized Macaque’s scent on the mountain was far too faint. Even the magical signature of his clones no longer felt fresh.

Macaque was nowhere to be found. The monkeys reported Macaque had returned a few years after he stopped by the mountain earlier in the Journey but not as his usual self. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. He didn’t even take time to check in on the infants. He didn’t say a word.

He just entered the mansion, but no one saw him leave.

Entering the mansion, Wukong dashed to their room desperate for answers. Opening the doors, he saw the room was horribly empty, sure all of his belonging were exactly as he remembered them, but all of Macaque’s stuff was gone. Macaque’s closet was empty and all his books had vanished. Despite his desperate hopes, there wasn’t any signs of a struggle or hidden messages to be found.

Macaque left of his own free will, but why?

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed they shared so many nights together. Every time he dared, he awoke expect to be greeted with the comforting warmth of familiar presence, instead he opened his eyes to a cold emptiness.

The lack of answers broke his heart, but he didn’t have time to start tearing the landscape apart trying to find him. Now that he was back for good, he had so many responsibilities to catch up on. He was determined to be a good king for his subjects and that meant ughthinking things through. Plus, he wanted to spend as much time with his master and brothers as possible.

Then there was the concerning fact all his previous allies had severed their alliance with him.

Apparently after all the fuss with the Demon Bull King, word had spread that Wukong broke their alliance by disrespecting protocol and attacking the royal family. Plus, his new position as a defender of humanity annoyed more than a few respectable demons. Combined with the sheer number of powerful demons he killed on the Journey cemented the idea that having an alliance with him would only end poorly.

He was banned from court meetings and the other kings in the surrounding areas wanted nothing to do with him. The chaotic nature of his past had finally caught up to him and in the worst possible way.

He was still recognized as the Monkey King of the Sun Court but was effectively blacklisted. No one wanted to mess with him, but they also didn’t want to interact with him. Not good for his mental health to say the least.

Simians are naturally social creatures. Wukong was used to constantly being around other people and learning new things. His time imprisoned was not kind. His first year of freedom had him constantly climbing over his brothers and master just to reassure himself that this was real.

And now that he couldn’t reconnect with old faces unless it was through a battle to the death…It forced him to delve into old memories. Memories that while sweet only made the emptiness more pronounced.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Sun Wukong smiled as he watched Macaque’s reaction.

The six-eared monkie was furiously pinching the bridge between his eyebrows after he shattered a boulder with a careless headbutt as though it would make his life mercifully easier. “You’ll have to explain it to me again. What did you mean by ‘no longer under Yama’s jurisdiction’?”

“Exactly what I said. I was napping. Having some time to myself, when out of nowhere some idiots tried to take my soul to the afterlife.” Wukong explained as though having entities of death rip out your soul to drag it to the underworld was no big deal.

“Bet you weren’t happy.” Macaque couldn’t help but smirk at the flippant tone. He just made it so difficult to stay mad.

“Not in the slightest. I barged my way to the top brass, bunch of cowards called the Ten Kings (totally undeserved titles by the way) and demanded what the fuck was going on.” He was still ticked off even if the payoff was sweet. Seriously! Did immortality mean nothing to these cowards? They couldn’t even play it off as him dying in battle. He was in the peak of his youth! “Can you believe they tried to play it off as a misunderstanding? Should have smacked the loudmouth when I was there.”

“So, through a series of ridiculous events, you erased your name from the records of the dead.” Macaque could easily piece together the rest from there. No matter how ridiculous the odds. He learned never to bet against his friend when a problem could be handled with brute strength or intimidation. If it didn’t look like such an answer was possible, clearly, they hadn’t experienced the force of a determined Wukong. Something about facing a ticked off monkie of practically infinite strength and invulnerability left harden conquerors pissing themselves.

It was hilarious.

“Not just mine. In my infinite wisdom, I erased the names of several of the monkey inhabitants of esteemed Flower Fruit Mountain, including yours.” Wukong playfully booped Macaque’s nose.

Turning away to hide a light blush, Macaque scoffed to cover his embarrassing response. “Typical. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something insane.”

“I know. I’m just that awesome.”

“So what? Are we now double immortal?” That was the question wasn’t it. Due to their master’s instructions, they were immortal and ageless, so what exactly would this give them? He didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t sense any new powers or changes in his instincts.

His counterpart, however, had other things on his mind. “Who cares. All I know is that those idiots have no control over our souls anymore.” And with that the King took his rightful place across Macaque’s lap as the other returned to his scrolls.

Wukong instead took the time to examine his friend, who finally gained enough confidence to fully drop his glamour and embrace his true appearance.

He still couldn’t believe Macaque actually had six ears. The weird part was how natural they looked, almost as if seeing him with only two was bizarre. The coolest part was how each pair softly glowed a different color. Blue. Purple. Red. Sometimes Wukong would just stare at them, imagining that he could see glittering stars emanating from that glow.

Suddenly those magnificent ears twitched. Macaque didn’t bother looking up from the bamboo scroll. “A trespasser...multiple, boar and vulture demon. Another hunting party”.

“Again. Ugh. Don’t these idiots ever give up!” Don’t get him wrong, Wukong loved a good fight. What better way to prove how superior you are to others than to steal what’s most precious to them? But even he was starting to grow bored with the sheer number of hunters that thought kidnapping his subjects was a quick cash grab.

After the fifth army he returned in pieces to the surrounding upstart lords, you’d think they’d take a hint.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only powerhouse on the mountain. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while. Why don’t I defend the kingdom while your highness enjoys a show?” Macaque set aside his reading material, eyes glittering with bloodlust.

Wukong returned the smirk with one of his own. “I’m always up for a good thrashing. One request: make it glorious.”

“Don’t I always.” Macaque joked as he retrieved his spear from his own shadow.

Wukong summoned his cloud and claimed a good vantage point. Once again, he marveled at his friend’s hearing. Judging by the distance it would have been at least three hours before he would have detected their presence.

Kicking back, he transformed some hair into a fruit platter and waited for the screams.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

To this day, Wukong knew Macaque was alive. Thanks to his efforts combined with the intense training, the monkie was double immortal. Besides, that monkkie was way too stubborn to die. He would survive purely on spite if he had to.

Macaque left, but why?

While he may have effectively isolated himself, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear about the other courts. A few centuries ago, he heard rumors about the formation of a new court by someone under the title of the Macaque King. Supposedly they were a powerful monkie who knew way more than he had the right to. For a brief moment, Wukong dared to hope it was his old friend, but it didn’t last. The few recounts he caught described him with black fur. Besides, he knew how much Macaque hated the title of King. Even when Wukong offered him the position as co-ruler of his kingdom, the pale monkie adamantly refused.

Still, he was curious.

For a few weeks he could have sworn he detected a familiar scent hiding underneath Mk’s. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the immortal monkeys questioned him on the mango infused scent and what his plans were. It was almost too much to take in.

To think he returned to teach his student instead of showing his face. It hurt just to think about it. He chose to ignore the beckoning scent until it became impossible to ignore MK’s leap in progress. Then it just vanished like it hadn’t been testing his patience. Like it hadn’t brought him to the brink of shaking the kid upside down until he confessed where his old friend was hiding. The kid probably grew wise, or someone told him to change his bathing habits, and by the next training session it was all but gone.

Dragging his hand down his face, Wukong tried to reevaluate his thoughts.

Getting mad at the kid wasn’t going to solve anything. He knew he hadn’t been the most attentive master. Hell, the whole hammer exercise at its core was a desperate attempt to remove a painful reminder of better times. His master would be disappointed in how he was running away from his problems, but would encourage him to take the steps to be better. Zhu Bajie would be a sarcastic little shit, trying to get him riled up so the monkie would prove him wrong. Sha Wujing would sit him down and wouldn’t let him leave until they talked everything through.

He had to make things right with the kid. He deserved a better master. And this New Years he was gonna get one.

He spoke, praying the winds would carry his voice to his Warrior.

“Macaque. I know it’s been a while, but…I-I want to talk. I know you’re out there, somewhere I can’t reach. I miss sparring with you. I miss lazy days napping in the shade by your side. I miss defending the mountain as we held contests to see who could take out the most trespassers before their common sense kicked in. I miss you. Please come home.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The moon was high in the sky. Stars danced in the heavens as the faintest hints of vibrations pulsed through the concrete from the late-night dance clubs. MK lay awake, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.

Ever since Macaque disappeared in order to remain undetected, he kept thinking about his relationship with the Monkey King. Sure, he was being trained and he was definitely making progress. The monkie was still on his case for supposedly cheating on him with another mentor. Nothing MK said or did could make the monkie think otherwise. Thankfully, he was no longer shooting him suspicious glares, but the underlying tension remained.

The sad truth is they just weren’t that close.

He would have expected to learn more about the Monkey King on a personal and emotional level, but he just couldn’t get past that wall. Their training sessions felt more like just the Monkey King arranged just to get it over with. There was no passion at all.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration.

When you peered past the arrogance and pride, you found one socially awkward monkie. It was similar to Red Son the more he thought about it, both seemed to find it difficult to talk to or relate to others in a friendly setting. Sure, Monkey King projected a friendly demeanor and called him “bud”, but if he didn’t know any better he could have sworn the monkie was afraid to take that final step.

The last few sessions had taken a bit of a turn in a positive direction as Sandy would say. Maybe Monkey King decided it was time to make a change? Maybe this was all a trick so MK would lower his guard and reveal Macaque’s identity? Maybe he was just tired and should have conked out an hour ago?

Maybe.

Reality was so different from the legends. When Tang first introduced him to the Monkey stories, he was hooked. He loved listening to the tales of the infamous trickster that flipped off every major religious figure with unbridled confidence. Meeting the Great Sage in the flesh was like a dream come true until he was exposed to the King’s less pleasant tendencies.

Mk couldn’t help but wonder just how much confidence the Monkey King had in his training skills. Did he ever train someone before? Could MK talk to someone about this without appearing even more ungrateful than he already looked? Why didn’t he stop Red Son from unsealing his father when he was there? Why didn’t he simply seal the entire family when they were reunited? Why did the five times immortal sage decide that now he needed to train a disciple? Was Monkey King not telling him something important?

He had so many questions and not even the foggiest idea of where to start looking. Or perhaps he did?

The truth was he missed Macaque. The dark-furred monkie may have only taught him for a month, but the progress he made and the level of care he was exposed to made him feel as though he had finally unlocked the ability to fly.

He missed the regular grooming. He missed learning about the demon community. He missed learning new ways to mess with Red Son through appropriate court manners.

Watching the fire user freeze up at the term “honorable prince of the Iron Bull Court” just made him laugh, when his hair combusted it really matched his face. Now that he thought about it, were those horns starting to peek out of his forehead? And maybe the slightest hint of a tufted tail swiping the bottom of his coat? Seeing the demon frantically compose himself was a treat he didn’t know he needed. He still had the video saved as one of his favorites, didn’t hurt that Mei caught it at the perfect angle.

Oh yeah, he missed that.

With any luck, New Years would be the start of something better.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On an island that remained surrounded by unquenchable storms, a single black-furred monkie sat cross-legged in a secluded part attached to the palace. All around him fruit trees and bushes bore a hefty bounty releasing an intoxicating scent of life.

Ears twitched.

Macaque opened his eyes, aroused from his meditation. It was odd. He had the faintest sensation that someone had been talking about him. Now that wasn’t exactly unusual, he made plenty of allies and enemies across the centuries. What was odd was that the voice sounded like someone he once cherished.

But that couldn’t be right.

The deceptive silence of his personal orchard gave him no answers. Not that he really expected it to.

For some reason he refused to identify, Macaque turned to the single peach tree in the grove. A tribute from his past and a reminder of his mistakes. But it was also a valuable resource once he learned the truth about the peach’s properties. He used its powers to protect many happy relationships, if only it could have helped him so long ago.

No matter.

He still had many projects to work on, including one successor just rife with insecurities. He honestly felt bad ducking out as he did. If things were different, he would have offered him a new life. His Stars were always happy to welcome a new member into their budding community.

As a bonus, his presence would have interrupted their constant attempts to set him up with new dates. He adored their efforts but being paired with partners who only wanted power or he would view only as friends was not something he enjoyed. Although watching them mentally destroy those they didn’t find suitable for him was quite entertaining.

Either way, New Years was coming up fast and he still needed to approve a few changes. His Stars were determined to make sure this event topped last years in every way possible, but they had to make sure they didn’t set the orchard on fire again. Or worse, they could launch the fireworks into the storm barrier. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the tornadoes and clouds turned different colors as explosions rang throughout the night.

It was beautiful but lost its charm after the third day.

[jaskiersvalley]

Devil Didn't Bite

Revenge should have helped. Or rather, avenging Aiden’s death because it wasn’t revenge really. Lambert thought that killing the bastards who slayed his partner so mercilessly would bring him some kind of closure. It didn’t. All it did was cover his hands in even more blood but it didn’t bring Aiden back, didn’t help make him feel better. Sure, there were fewer scumbags in the world now but it didn’t change the past.

He dragged himself up to Kaer Morhen with Geralt. The bitter cold of home paired well with his ice covered heart. Nothing could thaw him out, no matter how close to the fire he sat, his brothers around him. Grief gnawed away at him, made Lambert reckless and stupid. He wanted Aiden back, even if just to be able to tell him the truth that had been lurking in his heart. There were three small words Lambert never got to say, never finding the perfect moment, always thinking there would be a better time in the future. It was all well and good until he ran out of time.

Drink, grief and a night alone never served Lambert well before. The combination made him consider the ridiculous, the impossible. He’d heard about a ritual, a summoning of a demon at a crossroad so a deal could be made. It wasn’t like he had much to offer but he’d give his everything to have Aiden back. Doing his best to remember what he’d need, he gathered a small box of necessities and walked out of Kaer Morhen in the dead of the night, heading down the track until he got to the nearest crossing of paths. It would have to be enough, he had to hope it was enough of a crossroad for the ritual to work.

No sooner had he buried the box than there was a laughing hum from behind him.

“And what does a Witcher of all things want from a demon?”

She was pretty in her own way, long faun-like legs covered in a reddish fur. Her skin was dark from the hip up, the circles and spirals painted on barely visible. From her hair protruded two large, curved horns. All in all, if Lambert had been at his peak wit, he would have said she was curvy all over and quite horny too. As it was, he turned, arms held out by his side to put himself on display.

“You can have whatever you want, I just want you to bring Aiden back.”

His request was met with a low chuckle as the demon walked around him, eyeing him up like some choice meat. At least, he hoped that was how she viewed him, as worth something.

“You don’t have a lot to offer,” she purred. “You’ll die eventually and whatever’s left of your soul will be hell-bound anyway.” That had Lambert swallowing thickly. Surely he could offer more. Before he got even as far as opening his mouth, the demon stood in front of him, eyes dark. “Scrap of a thing, aren’t you? You have nothing to offer that I could possibly want. Especially not for something as difficult as resurrecting the dead. Run along pup, don’t bother me again.”

Just like that, she was gone and Lambert was left standing in the cold darkness. His hands shook as he stood, frozen and world shattering to pieces. He always knew he wasn’t worth much but he had hoped that a demon would at least find something worth trading. Alas, not even the lowest of low, a crossroad demon, found anything worthy in him. What Aiden had seen then was beyond him. Perhaps it was best if he stayed dead, that way Lambert could pretend he was valuable in someone’s eyes and Aiden never had the time to realise he was mistaken.

The trudge back to Kaer Morhen was a blur. Lambert numbly stepped back into the kitchen, uncertain what to do now. He didn’t expect Eskel to be sat by the embers, sipping on a warm cider.

“Took a walk?” Lambert only grunted in response. He didn’t miss the way Eskel’s eyes roved over him, assessing his state. It wasn’t like Lambert had dressed up for his attempted deal. No coat, no gloves, his fingers were coated in dirt from where he’d scratched the hard ground open to bury his box. Most telling though were his feet hastily jammed into slippers rather than boots. “You haven’t been messing with Vesemir and digging up his plants, have you?”

Lambert hadn’t done that in years and he snorted half-heartedly. “In your dreams. Since he stopped trying to grow cumin I’ve stopped doing that.”

Heaving a sigh, Eskel stood up and poured another tankard of cider. He passed it to Lambert and gestured for him to sit down. “So what gives?”

Hesitant, Lambert took a sip, allowing the heat to wash through him, even if it never touched his frozen heart. At least his stomach was warming up, spreading heat into his limbs. The silence stretched and Lambert didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a pathetic idiot.

“I tried to bring Aiden back,” he blurted out in the end, Eskel’s patient silence urging him on. Now that he’d started, it was difficult to stop. “Tried to make a deal, trade myself for him with a crossroad demon.” Lambert was so glad he had a tankard in his hands, it hid the way he shook. “She said I wasn’t worth anything, let alone be enough to bring someone back.”

There were many things Lambert expected. To be berated, to be pitied, to be yelled at. What he didn’t expect was for Eskel to set his tankard aside, lean forward with his elbow on his knees and give Lambert a long, soft look. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Miserably, Lambert nodded. He couldn’t say the words, not when he never got a chance to tell Aiden first. It was just going to have to be another regret in a long list of them that was his life. The pity party he was gearing up for was rudely cut short as Eskel sighed and stood up with a soft groan. Without any preamble he grabbed Lambert by the wrist and started walking. They marched out the door and into the cold. Eskel unerringly led them down the path Lambert had taken, reaching the crossroad. Without hesitation he called out, “Lilia?”

Just the call of her name seemed to summon the demon and Lambert crumbled internally. Throughout his whole encounter with her, the demon had probably been laughing at his stupid, half buried box, knowing it was useless.

Eskel gave the demon a disappointed frown. “What’s this I hear about you being mean to my brother?”

“He wanted a resurrection. You know those are expensive, especially when not under hell's jurisdiction.”

The hand around Lambert’s wrist disappeared and Eskel approached Lila. He could only watch as large hands settled on fuzzy hips and Eskel’s eyes softened into a pleading puppy look.

“Darling? Honeybuns? Snookums?” Lambert didn’t know how Eskel managed to make it look like he was staring up at Lilia despite behind a good head taller than her. He reached to brush a strand of hair from Lilia’s face, fondness dripping from his voice. “Sweetheart? Could you pretty please bring Aiden back?”

There was no denying that Lilia was fighting a smile, softening in Eskel’s hold. The moment Eskel started swinging their hips playfully from side to side, lips curled into a soft smile, Lambert averted his eyes. He still managed to see the fingers tenderly tracing the curve of a horn, far too intimate for his eyes. The murmured “Maybe even add him to the list too?”

A hand smacked a cloth covered shoulder but Lilia was laughing. “You and your list. It was just that darned goat to start with. Then just one other. Only one more. Starting with just one goat. Then your family. And now your brother’s boyfriend?”

“My little mistress of darkness-” Lambert heard enough and clamped hands over his ears, eyes squeezed shut so he didn’t see even the shadow of what the two were doing. The bright peal of laughter from Lilia was too much to ignore though and he looked up.

“You’d better hurry, puppy. There’s trouble in your kitchen.” Lilia told him. Not needing any other excuse to escape, Lambert turned. He still cast a glance behind him and regretted it immediately. Eskel had his hands under Lilia’s thighs, her legs around his hips and back against a tree. His lips were pressed against her neck, both of them looking rather happy with the turn of events despite the cold. That was not something he needed to see so Lambert hurried back towards Kaer Morhen.

He could hear the trouble before he saw it.

“This was no portal. How did you get here?” Vesemir’s voice was loud and clear. Rounding the corner, Lambert tried not to think about why Vesemir and Geralt were in the kitchen in the middle of the night. But, more important than that was the fact that Aiden was backed into the corner, clutching a frying pan defensively.

“Aiden!”

“Lamb!”

“You know this Cat?” The question from Vesemir went ignored as Lambert pushed past them, all but colliding with Aiden in his rush.

“You’re back!” Lambert’s words were barely audible as he pulled their foreheads together, taking in Aiden’s familiar scent. “I missed you.” An hand on the back of Aiden’s neck kept him in place as Lambert gathered up the courage. “I lo-”

“The arsehole you avenged isn’t even dead,” Geralt muttered darkly under his breath. “The fuck you make me come along for?”

Lips curling into a snarl, Lambert yanked the frying pan from Aiden’s grip and hurled it at Geralt’s head. He didn’t expect a wet laugh from in front of him.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

Aiden’s now free hand wrapped around Lambert and pulled him in, finally claiming the kiss he had been teased with for so long.

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Flower: Zabuza x OC fem reader

!This fic is 18+!

Warnings: Swearing, big ole meanie Gato, mentions of abuse towards OC, petnames, kidnapping, mentions of beatings, unwanted touch (not by Zabuza), virginity loss, mentions of blood, breading kink, zero protection, big softy Zabs, basically porn with a plot

Word count: 3,300

Remaining silent, Hana looked down as she was dragged in chains into a large room. The room was dimly lite with wall lights, the floor was cold below her bare feet. She was dressed in basically a sheet after she was stripped of her clothes.

She knew of her fathers gambling debt with a underground drug dealer, Gato, however he assured her and her mother that it was taken care of.

Unfortunately, “taken care of" meant it came in the form of repayment with Hana's life. At 19, she was dragged from her mother, screaming as her father was ferociously beat within an inch of his life.

That’s all she remembers from that day, a mere 3 weeks ago. The look of despair in her mother’s face as she was dragged from her home, never to see her family again.

Now she stood, next to Gato as he prepared to bargain for her life.

He had informed her that she would be used as payment to a Ninja from the land of the Waves. She was expected to serve him however he desired.

Looking down, she stood next to Gato as he talked with the large, stoic man sitting on a throne.

“What is this" the large man replies looking at Hana’s small meek form as Gato smiled widely, pushing Hana forward towards the man.

“Oh this? This is part of your payment. Consider it a gift from me to you" Gato smiled smugly as the large man stood at attention.

Walking down towards Hana, she continued to look at the ground as she was too afraid to meet the eyes of the large, built man.

He gently lifted her chin up to meet his eyes as her looked into her gorgeous light golden eyes.

She was stunning. Long chestnut hair flowed freely to her back. She had a small, beautiful face and a gorgeous lush body. She was a site to behold to the rough looking demon of the mist.

“She is pure, yes?” the man said, still looking down at Hana’s beautiful face.

“As pure as snow Zabuza” Gato said smugly as he watched the man observed Hana's face more intently.

He could tell she had been beat by Gato and his men. The look of fear in her eyes told him she had seen her fair share of horrors.

He could see the tears forming in her eyes as he gently wiped them away. That one act of kindness was more than she had been shown in her weeks of capture with Gato.

“Haku" Zabuza shouted as a young, beautiful boy approached from the shadows.

“Yes Zabuza" he said softly as he observed Hana.

“Take this girl to my room” he instructed as Haku bowed to the man and walked up to the young lady.

Looking back to the floor, she followed the young boy to a large room deeper in the cavern. On one side, a large bed sat while on the other, a bath and changing area.

“He won’t hurt you" Haku said as she nodded slightly making his exit.

Sitting on the bed, Hana waits. She isn’t sure what she is waiting for but she knows the large man will come soon. She just hoped whatever he had planned wouldn’t hurt.

The door opens slowly as Hana stand, looking once again at the floor.

Zabuza looks at Hana as he approaches her. She looks up at him slowly, noticing his face covered with a wrap, and his eyes boring holes into her head.

He had a beautiful face, at least from what she could see. His hair was dark as night and his body built like a stone statue.

He stares at her for a few minutes, as if she is an illusion, one that will disappear if he blinks.

“You will stay with me" he says harshly as he looks down at her small form.

“o-ok" she squeaks out softly as the man watches her intently.

“Call me Zabuza” he says looking at you “what is your name pretty one?”

He lifts her chin softly as he stares directly into her eyes.

The name made her heart flutter as she looked to him.

“Hana" she said softly as he maintained eye contact with the large man.

“You will be safe with me my flower. Nobody will harm you" he says as he turns, walking out of the room as she sank to the bed.

She wasn’t 100% sure of the large man but for some reason, she trusted him.

The weeks go by as Hana adjusts to her new life as Zabuza's servant. He treats her kindly as she goes about tending to his every need.

She spends her days preparing meals and tending to cleaning. He doesn’t pay much mind to her as he rarely acknowledges her, preferring to remain silent in her presence.

She rarely sees the stoic man and only hears him when he is instructing Haku and his followers in combat training.

He is very loud and harsh to his men. He doesn’t hold back on their training. He knows what they need to do to be strong. He pushes them to their limits in order for them to get better fighters.

However, his strong attitude doesn’t extend to Hana. He treats her as his flower, precious and fragile. He sleeps with her nightly but has yet to touch her. His desire to claim her is primal, however he despite his rough appearance, he’s nervous to scare her.

He watches her from afar as she picks flowers and harvests vegetables. She looks so angelic in his eyes. He’s sworn his life to protect her. He doesn’t know why he feels this attachment to her but whatever the reason, he will not waiver from his path of being her guardian.

The weeks pass as Hana finds herself growing accustomed to her new life. She enjoys the freedoms Zabuza has given her. She spends most of her free time in the flower fields, picking and gathering flowers.

The flowers remind Hana of her life with her mother and father. Her parents owned a small floral stand that she would help tend in the summer and fall. She loved the smell of the fresh flowers on a warm , sunny afternoon. Nothing beat the feeling of the being surrounded by pure beauty.

One afternoon, she retreats the fields to finish making her floral crown she had been working on. She enjoyed the fresh scent of the flowers as she hummed happily, unaware of prying eyes upon her body.

“What a gorgeous creature sitting out here all alone" a voice sounds from behind her as she startles suddenly.

She stares at the two men watching her intently as she weaves flowers into her crown.

Feeling frightened, she stands up, gathering her items as she begins to retreat from the two men.

“Where are you going Angel" one of the men says grabbing onto Hana's arm harshly.

Wincing, Hana stares up to the man as she tries to pull her arm away.

“I have to go now, my-" she says before she is cut off.

“Why are you leaving so soon sweetheart? We just want to have a little fun. Maybe get to know you a little more?” the other man chimes in as they both grip her arms tightly as her eyes well up with tears. They pull her towards them as she drops her basket, trying to fight her way from the men’s hold.

“Tell us sweetheart” the one man chuckles “are you pure?”

She gulps harshly as she struggles to speak, afraid of what the men might do to her.

Tears fall from her eyes as she cries, hoping this nightmare will end quickly. She prays to whatever God’s will hear her that someone will come to her rescue.

“Let her go" a voice says from behind her as she continues to cry, thankful for her savior.

“Zabuza" one of the men says as they both push her away from them, causing her to crash go the ground.

Zabuza approaches quickly as he picks her up quickly. Grabbing onto him, she nuzzles her face into his hardened chest as her tears continue to fall.

Zabuza stares at the men as he rubs her shoulder softly. Never once breaking eye contact with the men, he asks her “Did these thugs hurt you my flower?”

Nodding fiercely, she pushed her head further into his strong figure.

Zabuza is furious at the thugs for hurting his precious flower. For soiling her with their filthy hands. Gripping her tightly and laying a soft kiss upon the top of her head, he summons Haku. Haku appears out of nowhere as he approaches them swiftly.

“Take Hana to my room" he said harshly as Haku grabbed her hand and pulled her away from Zabuza.

Walking back to the home, you heard screams sounding from the forest where she had left Zabuza and the men. Haku holds your hand tighter as he consoles you on your walk back to the home.

Guiding her to the room, Haku left Hana alone as he returned to Zabuza. He assured her that no further harm would come to her as she nodded softly.

She sat for what felt like hours waiting for the man to return. The door opened slowly as his gaze met hers. She stood from the bed as he walked swiftly towards her, grabbing her small waist and pulling her into him.

Leaning down, he laid a swift harsh kiss upon her soft lips as she hummed into his mouth. She reached her arms around his neck as he groped her soft waist.

He deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue into her small mouth as he groaned against her body. She was so small in his arms but she felt so good. She allowed him to easily dominate the kiss as she ached for more.

Pulling back, he lifted his arm to caress her soft cheek. She smiled softly as she leaned into his large hand.

“No one will harm you ever again my flower" he says as he holds her close to his large body, shielding her from any danger.

It was the first time in her life that she felt truly safe and secure. The first time since she had been forced away from her mother that she felt true love.

After the field incident, Zabuza restricted Hana's movements in order to protect her. He accompanied her everywhere she went and kept her within his grasp.

He kept a tight grasp on her waist or thigh as he sat next to her. He held her nightly as they slept. He had yet to take her purity and she was anxious. She was ready to give it to the man she had come to care deeply for.

Taking a bath in the room, Hana emerged from the warm water. She wrapped a light robe around her naked body as she untied her hair and began to lightly brush through the strands.

The door opened as she set her brush down and turned to see the face of her lover. He crossed the room in two strides as he grabbed her waist, pulling her into him swiftly.

He kissed her as her hands roamed up his shoulders to his neck. He pulled her in harder as he began to feel his erection growing in his pants as they kissed. His tongue danced on her lips as he asked for entrance to which she graciously granted.

Pulling away softly, he looked at her, placing his forehead on hers.

“I need you flower” he said softly as Hana pulled back from the large man. She turned around as she loosened the strings of her robe. She knew it was time.

Zabuza looked at Hana as she dropped the floral robe from her body revealing a perfect naked form below. She stood, with her back facing him as his eyes drank in her gorgeous nude body. Her ass was so plush and supple. Her thighs so lush and full. She was perfection to him.

He could feel his pants tighten as she looked over her shoulder toward the tall, strong warrior. She knew exactly what she wanted.

He slowly approached her as she turned her head to look forward and catch her breath. She was nervous to say the least but she was ready. She was ready to be claimed by the demon of the mist.

He reached for her soft skin as he touched her lightly. He was almost afraid she wasn’t real, that the imagine in front of him was a mirage on a hot summer day. That is mind was playing tricks on him.

Touching her shoulder lightly, he traced her upper back as she covered her breast and soaking cunt with her bare hands.

“Don’t be shy pretty one" he whispered as he kissed her shoulders, grabbing her hips as his hands trailed to massage her firm, lush ass.

She moaned as he growled in her ear, his lips tracing her skin as she kept her eyes forward, focusing solely on the pleasure radiating from behind her.

“You are so pure my love" he whispers as he bites softly into her neck, causing her to throw her head back in bliss as she moans loudly “tell me, my love, tell me you want me to take your virtue. Tell me you want me to be the only man to ever have you.”

She moans as she nods frantically. His grip tightens on her hip and his hand begins to snake down to her soaking wet core.

“Tell me pretty one. Tell me who owns you" he says as she moans, feeling his hand right above your hardened clit.

“You Zabuza, it’s always been you" she chokes out as he smiles into the crook of her neck as she rolls her head to the side.

“Let me make you feel good pretty one" he smirks as he places his large, rough finger on her hardened bud and begins to rub slowly.

She has never felt such pleasure. The sensation is so new, so different. She begins to feel a weird knot form in her stomach as she moans loudly.

Lost in bliss, her head falls back to his chest as she can feel his hardened cock straining against his pants.

He rubs small, quick circles on her clit as she moans his name louder and louder with each asking minute.

“Zabuza, it feels so good" she cries as her mouth falls open with pleasure.

He smiles as he bites down on her neck, rubbing faster as she feels her core tighten, aching for release.

“come for me pretty one, let go" he says softly into her ear as she nods frantically chasing her release. She has never felt this amazing.

She feels her breath hitching as her legs shake slightly from the overwhelming feeling of her orgasm ripping thought her fiercely.

Removing his hand from her clit, he grabs her hips as he lightly grinds his hardened member into her soft ass. He growls possessively in her ear as she feels his large member growing harder more

“turn around my love" he says sweetly as she turns to face him.

His breath stops as he gazes at the gorgeous sight before him. Her body is so perfect. Her breasts full and cunt soaking. He swears he must be in paradise.

Walling slowly up to him, Hana pushes him back to the bed as she slowly gets to her knees.

“My pretty one" he says as he brushes her hair from her face as she smiles up at him.

She grabs his pants, slowly pulling them down as he leans back on the bed.

His large hardened member springs free as she gasps at its size. She is unsure of how it will even fit in her small body.

He chuckles at your reaction as you blush “don’t worry pretty one, I won’t go too hard on you"

She smiles softly as she licks her palm and gently place it on his hardened cock. He groans as she moves her small hand up and down his cock, watching him as he groans. His groans making her cunt spasm and clench with anticipation as she thinks about his cock sinking deep inside of her.

He watches her as she continues to stroke him gently. He can see her squirming, waiting to be fucked senseless by him.

He smiles as he grips her small arm, pulling her up towards him as he lays her down on the bed.

Kissing her neck softly, he trails his lips down to her hardened nipples as he lightly sucks them.

Meanwhile, she fists his hair as he groans, rubbing his cock on the bed as he gets closer and closer to her heated core.

Looking up at her, he adjusts to put one hand beside her head as he rubs his cock between her wet folds.

Groaning as he feels her wetness seep onto his tip, he lines up with her soaking entrance as he slowly pushes into her tight cavern.

He groans as she cry lightly, tears falling from her eyes as you feel the pressure and tightness of his massive cock. She feels the sweet stretch of her cunt molding to his large cock. The feeling is new and overwhelming. It feels like she’s being ripped in half.

“you are doing so well pretty one, I’m almost in my love" he says groaning as he pushes himself past her maiden barrier and deep into her wet cunt. He kisses her tears away as he gives her a moment to adjust to his large size. He places his other hand firmly on her hip as be looks down at her beautiful figure.

“so beautiful, so wet" he growls as he slowly pulls out, pushing back in “and all mine!”

He slowly thrusts into her as the pain begins to fade and pleasure overtakes. His cock is so big, he fills her up to the fullest.

“Oh fuck Zabuza-" she moan as she arches her back, helping him to reach her magical spot. The feeling is unreal as her stomach begins to tighten with that familiar feeling.

Quickening his pace, he fucks her faster as he growls into your neck. She can barely speak. All the emerges is tiny squeaks and moans from the sheer amount of pleasure radiating from their bodies.

“Fuck pretty one, I’m going to claim this cunt. Fill it up with my seed. Make you mine" he growls as his pace picks up faster as she sobs holding onto her release.

“Fuck, please breed me Zabuza. Please I want to come so badly" she cries as he looks down at her with a growl.

“You want me to put a baby in your belly pretty one. You want to be the mother of the demon of the mists offspring" he growls as he rams into her harder and faster. His mind clouded an a lust filled haze as he thinks about impregnating his gorgeous flower.

“Yes Zabuza please, please give it to me" she screams as the cord in her stomach finally snaps and her cunt squeezes his cock deliciously.

“Oh fuck, Hana I’m going to come-" he groans as he presses his pelvis hard into her making her scream from the pressure. She can feel the ropes of cum spurting into her fertile womb as her mind begins to clear.

Breathing heavily and looking down at her he sees her soft, beautiful smile as he kisses her deeply.

“Be my wife Hana" he says as he budges her nose softly as he kisses down her jaw.  Smiling widely, she nods as he lays his forehead against hers.

Pulling out of her, she winces at the pain as he sees his member covered in her maiden blood.

Proud of his accomplishments, he pulls her closer to him as he kisses her on the forehead.

“Rest my flower" he says as he covers her, helping her drift softly to sleep.

taglist: @axoxtxhxh​

[eveningstar1516]

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 4

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so…, Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence.

AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

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

Previously:

Not wanting to stay in my head any longer, I drift off into a dreamless slumber awaiting the day that will ultimately decide not only my fate, but the fate of the demons I’ve grown to call, family.

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

CHAPTER 4 - I want you to be the one... (1842 words)

Snapping my eyes awake I shivered against the air as a bucket of ice cold water was thrown into my face.

“Get up human!”

A guard then roughly pulled me up by the shoulder twisting my arms behind my back and locking them together while unlocking the chain on my ankle. Pushing me out of my cell and half escorting me half dragging me out of the dungeon and to where my trial was supposed to take place all before I could even register that I woke up. As we were walking toward what I assumed was the very same courtyard where we welcomed the king not 24 hours ago, I started hearing lots of yelling. Straining to hear, I realized that it was the brothers arguing amongst each other about what they should do and Diavolo attempting to calm them down, sounding conflicted himself. Upon entering the courtyard I locked eyes with the brothers as they fell silent in shock upon seeing me bound in chains as I was escorted on stage where the king was waiting with Diavolo and the brothers.

*Flashback*

After I passed out.

“Father! What did you do to them?!”

“I am humouring you my son. They are being held under the palace and I am forbidding any one of you from making contact with them.”

“My Liege, I implore you to please reconsider your judgment. They are unaware of how the politics work here and they simply misspoke. I assure you they don’t mean you any harm.” Lucifer lowered his head pleading to the king to reconsider his choice.

“Lucifer is right! They mean the world to us and they can’t possibly do anything to you or the Devildom!” Mammon joined in. The brothers then each said their piece about you.

“You all disgust me, pleading for a human's life. You are my highest ranking demons. Show some dignity!”

“With all due respect my king, that human you are referring to is the one that bettered your kingdom and has achieved far more than any human, demon, or angel could hope to accomplish in the span of just 1 year. They have brought us all together and mended ties we didn’t even know were broken. Y/N is a human I would give up my Pride for-”

“My Greed for-”

“My Envy for-”

“My Wrath for-”

“My Lust for-”

“My Gluttony for-”

“My Sloth for-”

“My title for-”

“My powers for-”

“Y/N is a one of a kind human. They have found their way into our lives and there is nothing you can do to take that away from us my Liege.”

“That was quite the speech Pride, although that doesn’t change my opinion about them. If anything, it just makes my decision all the more ironclad. But I will humour you all. Seeing as how you’re all willing to give up the very thing that makes you, you for the human, a public trial will be held. Their fate shall be decided there. Until then, I forbid any contact between them, through their pact, dreams, or any interference with the timeline. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my Liege” they all responded simultaneously as the king left the room.

*Later in the east sitting room with Lucifer, Barbatos and Diavolo*

“What are we going to do Dia?” Lucifer exclaimed as he did something he has never done while sober and flopped onto a couch opposite of Diavolo as Barbatos sat into a seat in between them.

Holding his head Diavolo responded.

“I don’t know Luci. I just don’t know. As the crown prince I can’t go against my Father and as my right hand neither can you, but things are different with them involved. I just don’t know.”

Sighing, Diavolo laid down on the couch no longer giving a care about anything, just thinking about different possibilities.

“Barb-?”

“No can do my lord. The king forbade me from using my powers. Even if you were to command me, I don’t have access to them for the time being.”

“Do me a favour Barb and drop the title for now? Please? I need my friends, not my subordinates.”

“Alright, Diavolo. Let me say this then. You both know that no matter what happens tomorrow, Y/N will be banished from the Devildom. We all know that the king isn’t above making us suffer just to prove a point. How are we going to support Y/N and stop them from harming themselves should they be banished to the human realm?”

“Jeez Barb! That isn’t what we need right now! I don’t want to think about that.” Lucifer added the last part with a whisper.

“My brothers are going to be absolutely devastated. Y/N kept them all together, it’s going to be really difficult keeping everyone together with them gone.” “Adding to the list of problems, now that my Father is back, we 3 now serve him. I don’t get to dictate anything until he crowns me, not like before. We will all be swamped with more work as Father will more than likely try to “fix” my improvements to the Devildom.”

The three sat in silence, lost in their minds, endless possibilities and scenarios floating around in their heads. Eventually, Lucifer excused himself under the guise of some unfinished paperwork and returned back to the House of Lamentation.

“Barb?”

“Yes?”

“What have we done?”

“I don’t know my friend. I don’t know.”

*End Flashback*

Walking up the steps towards the stage, I held my head high making eye contact with no one other than my demons as I kept my expression as comforting as possible for them. Poor Asmo and Mammon looked like a dam threatening to burst. Beel wasn’t faring any better holding on to Belphie for comfort. Levi squeezed Mammon's hand discreetly. Satan gave a sad smile. Lucifer stood by Diavolo’s side, each giving you the smallest hint of a smile while Barbatos stood behind Diavolo's left looking like he always did, but after spending so much time with him, you noticed the small sign of sympathy in his eyes. Making my way center stage I was pushed onto my knees in front of the king. I raised my head up high making direct eye contact in defiance. The king then addressed the crowd which I noticed is filled with not only Demons and Sorcerers of different powers but many demons I knew from RAD and called my friends. They looked solemn as I realized that I made an impact on more than just the brothers.

“Denizens of Devildom! Here is a human who has upset the balance of the Devildom…”

I drowned out the rest of his speech not focusing on anything except for my family up on stage. Ignoring the ringing in my head, I reached out with my pacts just enough for them to feel it. I sent them some of my favourite memories over the years and wished Satan a happy birthday before the king declared my sentence. Holding my head high, I locked my gaze onto him.

“The human known as Y/N is hereby banished from the 3 realms, their soul to be returned to oblivion!”

Smirking he turned to face me. Smiling, showing off his fangs he asked,

“I believe that is a suitable sentence, don't you Y/N?”

I ignored him and turned to the demons on stage. I watched as Beel grabbed onto Belphie harder as tears came to both of their eyes. I saw the dam break in both Mammon and Asmo as Levi and Satan both battled their own tears to try and comfort them. I watched as Lu’s face paled and Diavolo squeezed his friend's shoulder a little tighter to try and ground him. Barbatos looked more solemn as his eyes started to water ever so slightly. The king then summoned a sword, turning towards the brothers, then walked until he stood directly in front of Lucifer and Diavolo. Letting go of his friend's shoulder, both Diavolo and Lucifer bowed their heads towards their king. He then shifted to face Lucifer and held out the sword towards him. A look of shock crossed over the brothers' faces as Lucifer looked up to his king in confusion hoping this didn’t mean what he thought it meant as he slowly accepted the sword.

“Lucifer, Cardinal Sin of Pride. You will be the one to deliver the blow.”

The colour fully drained from his face as the king stepped to the side to allow Lucifer to step up. Slowly with a trembling breath, Lucifer approached you with pleading eyes silently praying that this was some sick nightmare. His brothers looked on in horror, shock freezing them in place. Stopping in front of you, he took one look at you, turned to the king and lowered the sword.

“No… I won’t.”

“Pardon me?”

“I said NO! I will not kill Y/N!”

“Yes, you will.”

The king's eyes started glowing as an aura surrounded Lucifer. His brothers broke out of their trance and tried to reach towards you to hold back their brother from killing you against their wishes. Diavolo and Barbatos stood in shock as the scene unfolded.

“Hear me, denizens of the darkness.” Everyone onstage immediately stopped in their tracks and looked my way.

“Hear me denizens of the darkness. You who are born of shadow and you who give birth to it.” Upon starting the incantation, a magic circle appeared beneath me and Lucifer; my shackles started glowing. An intense pain shot through my skull. Pushing past the pain I continued.

“HEAR ME AND DO AS I COMMAND!” The shackles around my wrists broke under my power and I stood up facing the brothers. The king tried to move towards me but the circle by my feet prevented him from getting close.

“I Y/N order the 7 sins not to interfere with this trial. You are not to make a move against the king after the completion of the trial. You 7 are to remain loyal to Lord Diavolo and continue serving him as his word now outranks the kings!” Ignoring the pleading looks on the brothers' faces, I turned to Lucifer.

“Lucifer, Avatar of the Cardinal Sin of Pride, you are to follow through with your king's command and execute me as is due with your sword. You are to remain loyal to Lord Diavolo above the crown. You are to continue watching over your brothers and are not allowed to fight me on this decision.” Cupping Lucifer's cheek I whispered into his ear, “I want you to be the one Lu.” Stepping back I finished my order. “Now kill me!” Kneeling before Lucifer I looked up with a smile on my face watching as unshed tears began pooling in his eyes as he summoned his sword.

“LUCIFER! NO!”

“LUCIFER! PLEASE NO!”

“Y/N!”

Lucifer looked into my eyes muttering something in angelic before whispering, “I’m sorry…”

With tears burning his eyes he buried the sword deep into my heart.

“Thank you”

[mxvladdy]

True Form- Belphegor

*collapses dramatically* Oh Gods its done! Sorry for the break! I hope my edits are good! 

More to come in this series soon :) 

Hope y’all enjoy!

True Form- Belphegor

Keeping a defined for is hard. Too hard for him anyway.

His true form is inconspicuous. He just naturally doesn’t take up much space in the physical realm. He likes it this way though.

An overlooked predator is a dangerous one.

If he is ever seen in this form it looks like a thin film. He drapes over everything, like dust in an unopened room, or the cling of fresh dew in the morning in the rose garden.

He never uses it when awake. His human form is more palatable and functional in all honesty. Don’t get me wrong though, he doesn’t hate it. It used to be really useful when he wanted to nap and Lucifer was on the prowl. But, such good things can only last for so long. Now Lucifer can sniff him out from a mile away incorporeal or no after centuries of practice.

His real form is best implemented in the minds of his slumbering victims. He can cultivate himself there, using his form to feel out the needs and desires of his unsuspecting host.

He is a manipulator, tried and true. His cunning and wile gets him pacts more than a promise of power or wealth.

Belphegor draws them in with promises of grandeur and unexplored inventions. Limitless discoveries all at the very tips of their fingers, if only they take one more step further. One more little slip deeper into the abyss. Then they can stay sleeping forever with him.

Even as an angel he was known as a dreamer. More often then not he could be found in the inner sanctums sleeping with Beel and Lilith during lessons or being carried around by Lucifer. Back then he always had pleasant dreams or innovative ideas that the other angels made use of. The little inventor.

Now that he has fallen, nightmares come to him more often than not, uncontrollable flashes of The War, his sister’s death, and the pain of betrayal. Perhaps that was his punishment, always drowsy with no control over when he sleeps, with nothing but nightmares to accompany him.

When he has control over himself in his slumber he likes to flit around into other’s dreams. Most of the time he goes to Beel’s as they are very pleasant and help distract him from the night terrors he had just escaped from.

Sometimes when bored or pissy he jumps to Lucifer’s dreams. It’s a rare occurrence when they are asleep at the same time, but he takes absolute delight in fucking with his oldest brother’s dreams or looking for secrets to lord over him.

He doesn’t come into your dreams uninvited though. Not after you freed him. You have given him permission to. But he uses it sparingly. When he needs a break from his own head he might control when you are tired. Just so he can have some time out of his head.

He is very controlling in that retrospect. He will form the shape of your dreams at first. But, you ween him out of it. Now he trains you to lucid dream. He lets you shape your reality around you both. You don’t know it, but he is allowing you to shape him as well.  

Mini Fic

He watches you from a distance. The grassy knoll you built was bright and airy. Pink and purple flowers sway in the light breeze you created, winking at him as they move. The large willow draping over you pulls a happy little hum from your chest. The swinging branches tickling your sun kissed cheeks. You lounge sprawled out on the ground staring up at the false sun with the largest grin on your face. The rays of sunshine illuminate your prone form, casting stark shadows in its wake. They travel down the hill searching and coiling for shelter from the strong lighting. They find him, latching on to his bare feet and merge with his own disjointed outline. How apropos.

"You can come up here Belphie. Promise I won't bite." You call out into the sky. Your eyes were still closed, but you tilt your head in his direction none the less. The smile you throw down at him is more blinding than the sun you dreamt up.

“I don’t want to intrude.” He steps out from the tree line blinking owlishly. Being welcomed in a dream had been unheard of before you. The mindscape was an intimate and private space. He was meant to be an invader, a taint. Before this he had been nothing but a rogue clinging to the edges. A whisper of temptation carried on the wind, or the hollow thud of a heel echoing down an empty street. It’s different here, with you. You expected to see him or sense him in whatever form he chooses. It was-nice.

“You're never an intrusion.” Your raw honesty floors him still, even after all this time together. “Had a rough night?” You ask patting the space beside you.

“Something like that.” He murmurs dropping down next to you. He is distracted momentarily by the heat radiating off your body. “You’ve been practicing.” You beam, proud that he noticed so quickly. His lessons on dream walking and lucid dreaming were hard, but looks like they were finally paying off.

It had been difficult at first, keeping a solid detailed form while knowing you were asleep. Then trying to stay asleep while doing it. You had to fight against the instinct to wake up constantly. It was like somewhere deep inside your psyche was trying to protect you, like it knew what happened when a human ventures too far into this place. Almost like it knew that a cunning little demon was lurking somewhere down here.  

“How’d you guess?” You ask rolling onto your side. He answers by reaching out to you and dragging a soft finger down your bare arm. You shiver at the cool touch, little goosebumps awakening under his touch. Your picturesque scene wavers at the corners from his touch. The caress breaking your concentration for a moment. Belphegor smirks. “I’m still working on it!” You blush.

“I don’t mind, as long as I’m the only one that that can shake you so.” He pulls away to summon a large pillow for himself. You watch him try to get comfortable. He punches and rolls around the poof for a moment trying to get comfortable. You could tell something was troubling him. The energy in his gaze was borderline manic. His usually relaxed stature was strung taut, right on the border of snapping. He would murder you again if you said it; but he looked so much like Lucifer right now. Tight, cold, and rigid. A clear signal of distress.

“You want to take the helm?” You wave around the small scene offering him a distraction. He could expand the scene far further than you could, probably ever could. “Or do you want to let your hair down?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. You smile at his little snort, that human saying always got him to laugh.

“Sure you don’t mind?” You shake your head and sit up. Truth be told, you liked his weird demon form. You could never entirely place where he was when he was in it, but you just knew he was there and close. It was reassuring.

He breathes a sigh of relief before flopping backward. He disappears on impact with the soft ground. The grass and flowers coming up to engulf him as he takes over.  He flows around you into every corner of your mind, stretching himself to the furthest corners of your dream. He weaves himself in your fantasy. You get swept up in it for a moment. The raw force of him pulling at your center. It is suffocating for a moment, the oppressive weight of his magic. It brings out a bone-deep weariness in you without meaning to. You feel the growing need to just rest. Just a moment.

“Back with me?” You open your eyes. When had you closed them?

“Ye, sorry.” You lean up onto your elbow and shake your head to clear the fog that still clung to it. It was always a head rush when he did that. Blinking the rest of his magic away you take in your now joint dream. The sun was gone, replaced with twin moons and awash with multicolored stars. His sky bled colors, dripping purples and blues onto the green grass around the edges of your vision. The more you focus the more the field grows and stretches. Off in the distances, tiny tents emerge, sprouting up like shoots from the blackness. “Really?” You eye the tents with a wry smile. If you strained your ear you could hear faint carnival music.

A low rumble bounces around you. “You suddenly have an issue with the circus?”

“Absolutely not!” You raise, calling out into the vastness around you. “You better make a carousel!” You could feel him chuckle around you as you began your trek down the hill.

Belphegor is quiet while you navigate the forest. He’s whole being hyper focused on building the world around your quick steps. His was divided and working overtime in an attempt to distract himself. Part of him was busy building the carnival, another working on making sure you don’t stir from your slumber, and the other awake and aware. He hasn’t done this in a while, splitting his consciousness so thin like this. His human body lumbering along in the physical world while his mind was busy in the subconscious one. Hopefully, none of his brothers were awake and would try to intervene. He wanted to be close to you, in both body and mind tonight. You reach the edge of the woods and he turns his full attention back to you.

He had gone all out for you. Bright lights and the echoing laughter of imaginary guests assault your senses. You could even taste buttered popcorn and caramel on the tip of your tongue. A warm hand takes yours causing you to jump. Belphie gives you an apologetic grin for startling you before dragging you off into the park without a word. Who knows how long the two of you spent. Time, as you understood it, worked differently here. Faster or slower you had no idea. But, right now you didn’t care. He needs you here in the present.

“So-” You start hesitantly much later in the evening. You lick at some cotton candy that had gotten stuck on your fingers. “Want to talk about it?” Belphegor shoots you a look from where he perched. His feet dangling from a study steel fence. He watches you ride the slow-moving carousel as it goes round and round in lazy circles. He mulls over what to say as you make a rotation.  

“I dreamt of Lilith again.” He admits. He comes to sit on the metal animal beside you, disappearing and reappearing in a puff of smoke at your side.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ye. Me too.” He pats the kelpie he sits on. Its listless eyes bore into his. His old nightmares reflecting in their ruby gaze. He wanted to be over this. Why wasn’t he over this? The longer he stares into the horses dead eyes the more his nightmares creep back onto him.The dream shifts around you. The air dropping in temperature drastically. The merry background noises choked off and replace with a buzzing that made your head hurt. The sound of metal striking metal and shouts start to grow at the base of your neck.  

“Belphie-” You reach out for him, cupping his face. He doesn’t notice you anymore. His mind going somewhere you shouldn’t venture. His expression turns stormy, closing off to you completely. Fear begins to build up inside of you. Something uncontrollable riding in on the fast building winds. The night sky he built changes. Stars blinking out one after another like blown bulbs. The moons swelling in size, crashing into each other as your dream begins to crumble. “Shit.” You had to wake up, and fast.

You awake with a start back in your bed. Eyes snapping open while your body lays motionless. An odd sensation of sleep paralysis locking your joints. Something radiates behind you, a lanky body drawn close to yours. Sweet breath tickles the nape of your neck. Fighting the paralysis that held you, you turn to greet your bed guest.

Belphie’s half-lidded eyes seem to look through you. His body was icy, a ghostly vapor wafted over of his pale skin. You tried to wake him but your tongue was stuck. All you could do was stare wide-eyed as he dreamt. He comes back to you slowly. His eyes twitch and roll sporadically until he blinks, drawing in a ragged breath as he comes to. His skin warms with each passing tick of your alarm clock. As your drowsy demon stirs the stiffness in your body begins to ebbs. His chokehold on your mind weakening. After what seemed like an eternity he awakens. He takes you in for a moment and then he’s on you, lurches forward to drag your pliant body to his. “Scared me for a second there Belphie.” You mutter into his soft hair.

He sighs, breathing in your scent and focusing on your strong pulse. It had been a while since he had lost control of himself like that. Building up a world was easy. Tearing it down was even easier. The thread that kept people under was thin, like a single strand of silk. To lose himself to a nightmare in another being’s head? It was unheard of. It terrified him. “Did I hurt you?” He rasps.

“No,” You reassure him, pressing a kiss to his sweaty brow. “I woke up in time.” He goes quiet again trying to keep his breathing steady. “Hey.” You stroke a few strands of hair from his face. “You’re thinking pretty hard there, can I help?”

Could you help? If he was losing control of his dreamscape again… He would have to tell Lucifer. A shudder runs up his spine at the thought of retraining. No, he was still strong enough to keep it under control “Just keep stroking my hair, please?” He yawns widely, lethargy hitting him hard. He drifts off to the feel of your fingers flowing smoothly through his hair. The lingering fears slip further and further from his mind with each soft caress.  

[raksh-writes]

Be the lover to my nightmare

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski

Words: ~2,8k

Warnings: Blood/injury is mentioned, but nothing much else.

Check the work on AO3 for more information and tags!

I saw the trope in a few fics in a different fandom and got inspired, then typed out this little thing in one day, as it usually happens with one-shots these days. And, as it also usually happens, I already have ideas for at least two/three more little things in this 'verse, hah. So, who knows, I might revisit it in the future ^^ Maaaaybe for some more Angst and Emotional H/C, hmm? 👀 For now, I hope this one will be a nice read ^^ Enjoy!

---

Stiles sits on the couch, numb, watching the bill get passed, watching the old alphas shaking their grubby hands, squeezing his own to the point of white knuckles and quacking bones. There's bile stuck in his throat, acidic and burning, his jaw's clenched so hard his teeth ache and his blood runs so cold it's scorching the inside of his veins. But, above it all, Stiles is motionless. Frozen in grim fury, seeing the thing all the others like him protested against for months and yet knew deep down it'd be to no avail, become real.

Omegas are being stripped of their freedom right before his eyes. And there's nothing they can do.

"Stiles…"

He's not sure whose voice is calling out to him; Scott's, his dad's, or someone else's — the pack's gathered all around the living room of the loft, the mix of their emotions a hornet's nest’s buzz in the back of his awareness — but it feels like it's coming from far away, like he's trapped in an aquarium and they're trying to reach him through thick glass and tons of water. It doesn't matter, though — they're all alphas, betas, or mated —  it won't affect them, not like it will Stiles.

There's a cacophony of voices when he stands up, but Stiles can't— he can't deal with their concerned stares and empty words.

"Don't—" He shakes his head, without looking back at any of them. It just— he doesn't have it in him, not right now. "Just don't."

Stiles knows they're worried, he knows they only want to help, show their support, but, frankly, he probably needs just a look to burst and turn into a shouting spree or a sobbing mess. Or possibly both. And he won't, not in front of all of them.

Dragging fingers over his stinging eyes, Stiles shakes his head again — and flees.

⁂

The crystal shines beautifully in the last rays of sunshine, warm and slightly hazy, spilling inside from the window. It's laying on the instructions for the small ritual he just did, short of one last step — it's more of a simple summoning than a ritual, really, but this time— Well, this time he needed to make some additional steps first, and now there's only one thing left. If Stiles is able to make this choice a reality.

His heart pounds so hard against his ribs Stiles can feel it in his ears, heavy and quick, thu-thump, thu-thump, as he stares at the polished piece of rock. Carbon. Whatever. It's glimmering silver in the soft light, swirls of black smoke seemingly flowing inside of it, enticing him to reach and use it. At this point, there's not much else to do but just that.

The crystal is cool in his palm, the surface perfectly smooth yet the edges deceptively sharp — it's all too easy to close his fingers around it and let them cut into his skin. The pain is immediate, slicing into Stiles' flesh, and he clenches his jaw over a hiss, but the pain is quick to ebb away, seemingly seeping into the crystal itself. His heart jumps right into his throat the same moment his skin stitches itself back together.

The last signs of the day are gone by the time Stiles puts it down. All the shadows in his room curl and writhe and start to slither around and before him — when he finally looks up, out of the darkness emerges the one Stiles hoped for and dreaded seeing both.

The demon smirks at him, the expression so far away from anything Stiles could ever manage and yet so very fitting on this mirror image.

"Stiles…" he purrs in greeting, drawing out the name until Stiles can't help but shiver.

Void's voice, so much deeper and far closer to a growl than his own, never fails to feel like a caress against Stiles senses — sharp claws dragging over his skin, an intimate touch slipping down his spine. The demon is still wearing the body fashioned after Stiles too, so very different and yet so eerily similar. Taller, stronger, paler — dressed all in black and smooth, supple leather that looks far too good on him.

Stiles swallows heavily as their eyes meet, for just a moment, and he has to stop himself from trembling before Void's dark gaze slips down from him to the mountain ash circle he's sitting in. The demon's expression, so hard to guess even when he lets something show through, seems a mix between amusement and something more hidden, cooler, exceeding even the way he's definitely unimpressed with Stiles' antics.

"Really, darling?" He curves up one black eyebrow, looking back up at Stiles; his gaze drags over him slowly while he does, just as inhumanely focused and acute as Stiles remembers. "You call on me after so long and this is how you greet me? I must say, I'm disappointed."

Still not trusting me, are you? Is left unspoken, but painfully clear in the way the demon's mood seems to have soured, his words mocking and yet bittersweet underneath. Stiles takes a breath and ignores the jab — Void will have his answer soon enough. There's no point in stalling anyway; it's why Stiles summoned him.

"You're a shapeshifter, right?" He starts, tongue darting out to lick over lips, all his nerves fired up and spreading little thrills through his veins. "Could you, in theory, shift into anyone out there? Any… conditions included?"

Void tips his chin down, just slightly, as his eyes narrow down at Stiles. His nostrils flare slightly and although his expression doesn't change even one bit, Stiles' skin breaks out in gooseflesh all-around at the knowledge the demon is scenting him. And he's perfectly aware of just what Void can smell on him — an omega on the cusp of their heat.

"Ask your question, Stiles," Void tells him instead of answering, deceptively smooth and soft when his eyes are all but.

"Could you…" He has to drop his gaze, swallowing heavily and not quite able to face the demon just yet. But he has to. "Could you shift into an alpha?"

The demon stills, completely motionless, and Stiles is trapped, unable to look away now that he's been caught in Void's dark gaze. The emotions tumbling and rolling and tangling into knots inside him are still burning bright; anger, helplessness, disgust, and among it all, plain, old fear. Because Stiles is scared, maybe more than he ever was, and he doesn't know what will he do if this one reckless leap of faith fails. He's not even sure what's worse — the fact that he's so hopelessly, desperately hoping for this plan to work or the fact that he even needed it in the first place. But now they're here and from now on everything's possible.

Finally, Void shows some reaction — he shifts in his place, head cocked slightly to the side and one corner of pale lips quirked up. An amused, short breath leaves his mouth and his eyes turn half-lidded, the dark gaze a scorching, melted obsidian.

"So this is why you summoned me, huh…" the demon muses, watching him with all too much pointedly focused attention for Stiles to handle, and he can only clench his fists on his tattered jeans; wait with bated breath for whatever Void will decide. For a while, he doesn't speak up, gaze heavy and poignant on Stiles as Void seemingly weighs his options, but when he does, it's quite simple — a question: "Do the others know?"

The breath shudders out of Stiles.

"No."

Slowly, so very slowly Stiles would be able to retrace it later in his mind alone, the smile comes back to Void's lips — a half-smirk, really, one corner curved up and mouth slightly parted.

"Out of all of them, crawling all around you, out of all the people you could have…" Void drags out his words, unhurried and lazy, his gaze slipping over Stiles just as pointedly; as if they have all the time in the world for their little game. "I must say, I haven't expected this from you, darling. But—" Stiles shivers at the intensity of his look when their eyes finally meet again. "—can't say I haven't thought about it. When I heard about— well... In any case, this is quite a lovely surprise."

The way Void cuts himself off, letting that part of his speech trail away, strikes a chord within Stiles — he hasn't really thought about it; what was Void's reaction to the news. If he had any reaction at all. But, if he did, then— then what would he do? Would Void even do anything? They've been playing this game for a while, or rather — Void seemed intent on pushing it as far as he could while Stiles tried to figure out what his role and placement in it even was; if he really wanted to play along, should he play along. But now his choice is made, and the demon's expression while he purrs his last words, mouth still curled into that infuriating half-smirk, only fuels the burning inside Stiles' chest. Void still seems intent on continuing their play but it's far too later for it now, Stiles needs answers and he refuses to cover even when caught in this weird impasse.

His lips press into a thin line and his fingers dig into his thighs and his patience is hanging on its last thread but he will wait Void out if he has to. Stiles isn't even the one that's been dropping innuendos and making all the little touches through the years — ever since he got the crystal and started summoning the demon Void's been taking every occasion to get under his skin. The pack never really approved and Stiles didn't dare to call on Void if he absolutely didn't have to but dear god did he want to sometimes. And Void had to be aware of it — why press for so long otherwise? Just for entertainment?

The thought is chilling but Stiles throws it away immediately. He hasn't made it this far just to get cold feet now. And the thing is — he could ask someone else. Someone from the pack. Someone from outside the pack even. Hell, he could try to evade the bill somehow or even just let fate decide, but he knows the odds; faced with all that could potentially happen, this seemed like the best way. A way for him to retain at least some of his freedom. And, with Void, he can be sure the demon will stand by his word — which is far more than Stiles can say for most, if not all, alphas and betas.

"You didn't answer," he reminds, keeping Void's gaze as steadily as he can.

Void doesn't answer, again, but his smirk quirks, just a bit. And then he moves, slowly coming closer up to Stiles, step by unhurried step, until he stops just at the edge of the mountain ash circle. His gaze drops to it meaningfully before rising back up to meet Stiles', one brow slightly curved.

"Now, this seems a little bit redundant, doesn't it?"

Stiles looks down to the circle and tries not to show just how fucking nervous he is, still without an answer. But now he can only play the game and hope for the best. He's won it once, and it's probably the reason why he has even a sliver of a chance of this working out. And he's intending on playing along, for now, but Stiles will be ending it soon, and he'll end it on his terms.

Letting out a slow breath, Stiles focuses on the line in front of him and makes it retract to both sides, breaking up the barrier and giving Void a wide way in. The demon doesn't waste time too, stepping inside so that when he crouches onto one knee there's barely a few inches of space separating them. Stiles would be able to brush his fingers against that supple leather on Void's calf if only he turned his palm around and reached. And that's when it hits him.

Void's scent.

Stiles has, unconsciously, taken a big lungful of it, inhaling it deep, deep inside until it fills him up completely, and the sound that rips out of his throat just then is all strangled want wrapped in need that burns in his cheeks and stings behind his eyelids. Void's scent has always been pleasant, has always felt more alpha than anything else, but now— now it makes Stiles' senses sing.

At some point, Stiles has closed his eyes, and now he doesn't dare to open them too quickly; as if looking up at the demon would make him disappear. But Void is still there, watching him with undivided attention and no smirk in sight; instead, he seems thoughtful.

"Does this answer your question?" Void asks softly, voice no more than a murmur.

Stiles licks his bottom lip, mouth filling up with fresh saliva, and nods; trying not to be too obvious about gulping up the potent scent into his greedy lungs. He's already starting to get a bit too hot in his core and his heat shouldn't arrive for at least another couple of days.

Void's eyes slip down his body, probably smelling it on Stiles as clearly as his inherent chaos, and Stiles would probably be embarrassed if he had anymind for it; if the gooseflesh following Void's gaze didn't feel so delicious.

"Not that I'm anything but absolutely delighted at what you're implying, but I must ask—" Void starts slowly, softly, and reaches up, giving Stiles plenty of time to refuse the touch, but when his fingers curl gently over Stiles' collarbones, he leans in. "—are you absolutely sure?"

Void's thumb dips into the valley between Stiles' collarbone and neck, before brushing up along his jugular, a soft touch over the pulse point. Stiles shivers, eyes half-lidded and breath stuttering in his lungs, caught. Void's are as dark as ever, the molten obsidian reaching down, down to his very core.

"No," Stiles admits, because there's really no point in lying now, "but I've made my decision."

Void hums, low in his throat, and now— now his thumb is slowly, intimately pressing, massaging almost, over the scent gland in Stiles’ throat. Coaxing out both more of his scent and the choked little sounds that try to escape him — because it feels downright amazing and because it’s not only a scent gland.

“You must know, Stiles, that if you give yourself over to me, if I sink my teeth in your pretty little neck—” His fingers tighten, just a bit, just enough to make Stiles look up and meet Void’s eyes. “—you’ll be mine. And mine alone.”

Stiles shudders, his eyelids falling almost closed as he licks over his aching lips. He’s burning up and only distantly aware how out of control the situation is spinning — but Void is still here. He’s still here and Stiles is nothing if not persistent.

“I know,” he answers, somehow steadily enough to give it strength. And he does know how possessive the demon is, how rarely he considers something as his — Stiles has been there, has experienced it, intimately, and maybe, just maybe, never really left that circle. "I also know you, and you know me. I won't become a mindless doll just because we are— because we've done it. And I know that's not why you've been getting under my skin for all these years, so—" Stiles swallows heavily, tipping his chin up and baring his neck even more to the hungry gaze of the demon. It's both a surrender — and a dare. "Will you do it?"

Void's eyes glimmer, a silver shine to them that makes Stiles' heart pound twice as hard and fast as before; prey caught in the sight of its predator. The unspoken questions hang between them, thickening the air already potent with their scents.

Will you bite me? Will you make me your mate?

"Oh, darling," the demon purrs, his hand travelling up, up, up Stiles' neck until he can cradle Stiles' cheek in his cool fingers, "you only needed to ask."

And Stiles— Stiles wasn't really aware of just how tight he was strung up until this moment, up until the relief almost sweeps him off his feet and rips out the most pitifully sounding whine from his lungs.

"Hush, sweetheart," Void's thumb swipes over his cheek, brushing away a tear Stiles didn't even feel falling. Then the demon leans in and puts his forehead against Stiles', their breaths mixing together. "I'll take care of you."

Stiles whimpers and finally, finally abandons the last bits of his pride to, just, accept the comfort so easily given — to let himself reach up, touch the demon, bring his own arms around Void and melt into the embrace. The pent-up emotions rolled into tight knots inside him give, unraveling into a quivering mess of shattered breath and fluttering eyelashes and so, when Void gathers him up into his lap, Stiles goes willingly.

[essays-for-breakfast]

One Candle Still Flickers

Melizabethweek Day 2: Heaven and Hell

Please note that this piece contains mentions of blood and violence. If this makes you uncomfortable, turn away now.

Scorching heat. Blistering cold. Air that burns the lungs and tears at the sensitive tissue in the throat until even screams of agonizing pain become an impossible feat. And oh, does he scream.

Compared to even the foulest depths of Meliodas’ wretched hellscape of a home, the Demon Realm, Purgatory offers a charming hospitality no one can withstand for long. He tries, of course. Tells himself that he overcame worse pain, that the frostbites on his arms and the iron taste of blood in his mouth don’t compare to all 106 times he watched Elizabeth die, and that the shredded skin on his fingertips is an illusion summoned by his father.

After all, only Meliodas’ emotions roam the desolate canyons.

The weakest part of himself trapped in the cruelest part of the world.

Somewhere in the smoke-heavy clouds, obscured by the constant ash rain from volcanic activity, the Demon King laughs. Meliodas spits out a lump of blood and sends the towering frame of his father a humorless grin. At least one of them is having fun.

The next step costs him more energy than he has to give, and Meliodas falls to his knees. More ash under his fingernails, another lungful of distillated fume eager to kill him. The searing pain while his illusory organs devolve to embers for the thousandths time almost entices a begrudging respect for his father out of him. He has defied the scorching heat and the blistering cold since the end of the Holy War, and he still has the liveliness to laugh at Meliodas’ failed attempts to escape.

For how long have they played this game now? How many years, decades, and eons have passed since the curse pulled Meliodas into Purgatory?

He doesn’t know. The creator of this ugly fusion between a glacier and a volcano hasn’t bothered to install a clock.

Ash flakes tumble from above and leave black scars on the back of Meliodas’ hand. The forefinger twitches in a desperate struggle to hold onto life, hope, anything that will help him stand again.

“Elizabeth…” he whispers.

“Will you die with the witch’s name on your lips too?” The Demon King’s voice thunders in Meliodas’ head, and a fiery eruption from the nearest volcano punctuates his words.

Meliodas pushes himself on his forearms. “You made sure I can’t die, remember? You’re getting rusty, old man.”

“Your insolent tongue is just as worthless as the entirety of your emotions. They only hinder you from becoming my successor.”

“I’ll gladly take my insolent tongue over a world where I become like you.”

The Demon King points a finger the size of a grown man at Meliodas. “There is no stopping it now. As we speak, my loyal subjects are gathering the Ten Commandments, and your body will soon fuse with their magic. Then neither the Seven Deadly Sins nor your dear goddess will be able to stand against the reborn Demon King.”

“Then I guess I just have to find the exit before that happens.”

The Demon King’s laugh rings for a long time between the twisted rock formations. Meliodas climbs to his knees, but his shell of a body refuses to support the weight of his worries. More ash under his fingernails, another lungful of distillated fume eager to kill him. Another century gone by without a glint of success, without a glimmer of hope.

Purgatory may never kill him. But to survive in this world is to endure endless suffering where despair gnaws at him with every step until he loses himself in shapeless shadows, destined to wander the lava riversides and blizzard-coated mountain peaks for the rest of time.

Meliodas takes another step.

For her. Elizabeth.

He has to return to Britannia before the Demon King can reach his horrid claw around her. Before the curse claims her life anew.

Her face, in the variant as princess of Liones and all the incarnations before her, keeps Meliodas upright and pushes him to scale another cliffside, even as his field of vision shrinks and the shadows at the edge take over.

Golden Warmth. A liberating breeze. Puffy fine-weather clouds as far as the eye can see, an entire ocean of them. And in between these white waves float islands with alabaster towers and grass so eternally green it can only exist in a place far beyond all destructive influences. An endless summer sun caresses his neck.

Meliodas digs his fingers into the ground where he fell, although he hardly feels the sharp pebbles anymore.

Why do the memories of the Celestial Realm return to him now? Elizabeth, the very first incarnation he fell in love with, took him to her home once. They played a dangerous game of hide and seek with the countless Goddess warriors there. If even one of them had seen through Meliodas pathetic disguise, at least one of the parties involved would have lost their head. Despite the threat of discovery, Elizabeth dragged him to all her favorite places with a cheer she rarely allowed herself to show. A vast field of golden wheat hems. The top of an abandoned tower, half destroyed and seized by ivy tendrils.

Amidst the bloodshed of the Holy War and despite the feud that divides their clans, Elizabeth offered Meliodas a hand. With nothing but a smile and her belief in the good in others, she pulled him out of hell. Shoulder to shoulder with her, he saw heaven for the first time.

“Elizabeth,” Meliodas says. He hardly recognizes his voice. “I let you down again. If it’s always ending like this, why’d you take my hand that day? Why didn’t you give up on me?”

The warmth of her presence is so very far away. Where she used to stroke his arms, only freezing numbness remains. Where she used to kiss him, his lips only taste the burning aridity of Purgatory.

But even if she is so very far away, an incarnation of Elizabeth is still out there, alive. Maybe she is standing amidst the chaos of magical and hellfire explosions and leads the war against the cruel fangs of darkness as she always did. Maybe she is gazing into a star-sprinkled sky and waits for his return. Maybe she still believes he will fulfill his promise and free her of her curse.

A blood-red vail has overtaken Meliodas’ vision. When he struggles out of the dust to his feet, he has lost his humanoid shape. A shadow stands in his place, a perversion of the dragon creature with which he shares the name of his sin. Wrath.

Somewhere hidden in the smoke screens, the Demon King triumphs. At last, his son’s emotions have given into hopelessness.

But in a place deep in the insides of the shadow dragon, Meliodas keeps a flame alight. Elizabeth’s face kindles the spark, her gentle hands shield the candle against the hurricanes and hailstorms, and her voice, filled with tireless encouragement, nurtures the beacon.

She fought for him during the Holy War. They fought for each other against the overwhelming might of gods. Even if she is so very far away, Meliodas will fight for her.

As the shadow to her light.

Scorching heat. Blistering cold. Claws that dig into the most treacherous slopes carry him forward, step by step. He tears through Purgatory’s pitiful inhabitants and shreds any creature that hinders his search for the exit. For a moment, he may lose himself and taste this senseless wrath the Demon King wants him to dissolve into. But the flame inside endures.

Years, decades, and eons go by, glaciers melt and magma chambers freeze, while Meliodas fights. For her. Elizabeth.

The dragon creature which serves as Meliodas’ shell roars and bares its teeth. His current opponent is of the nasty type. He doesn’t yield. Neither does Meliodas.

They slam each other into the rock formations, break each other’s bones, and throw themselves at the other as though this brawl is all they’ve ever known and all that ever mattered.

Meliodas should hate his opponent. After all he, aside from the Demon King, stands as the only one with the power to deter his escape. And yet… this gritty, pesky bastard he crushes and is getting crushed by has the air of familiarity to him. Meliodas knows his fighting style. Furthermore, he knows all too well the flame that convinces his opponent to strike blow after blow until they collapse into a heap of limps and shadows.

They both feel the exhaustion in each haggard breath. And yet they both won’t die.

Meliodas’ opponent mumbles something. His words have never quite reached through the shadows clogging Meliodas’ senses, but they gain a new clarity now that the frenzy of battle flees him.

“…holding out for you in the land of the living,” a familiar voice says. “And I… want to see the woman who means the world to me.”

Yeah. I do too.

[obeymeluv]

So, that kidnapping thing you did with the pact radars and stuff (those head cannons about pact mates are REALLY GOOD btw), how about Diavolo this time if you want to do so?

Let’s answer this, shall we? I was supposed to take my exam today but the online proctoring service we’re supposed to use will not let me book or take the exam. So now I have to wait to speak with my instructor or a supervisor of that company because the regular tech support can’t figure out why common fixes aren’t working 😡 

Anyways, have some Diavolo

Diavolo:

Someone DARES to disrespect THE KING?

Technically, he’s a prince but he’ll be THE KING OF THAT ASS-WHOOPIN’!

He has access to the compass feeling, the brain push, the sensations--the whole lot. But, being from the royal lineage, he has TWO unique tools at his disposal (no, not the magic butler).

Diavolo can summon Little D’s, manipulating shadows by extension. This power is limited to how many shadows are available and whether he’ll have to fight light or disruptions to maintain or strengthen them

The second and most powerful tool he has is connecting with animals. Those human superstitions about possessing crows and animals and such? Very real.

Diavolo is especially fond of Hell Hounds and actually gifted Cerberus to Lucifer (and helped Lucifer train him)

Because of his confidence in the Little D’s, in shadows, and his few but loyal Hell Hounds, Diavolo won’t use the compass or push. He’d rather not tax your body

Being a royal, he uses more energy when connecting to his pact mate. It’s always very clear and from much longer distances than most demons can manage. This makes it very taxing on the pact mate by default.

So death steps soft but firm, shadows sniffing and stretching far ahead of him as if to unroll the red carpet

He gave the Hell Hounds your scent and they dutifully trot alongside the shadows, occasionally baying out pack calls (if they split up) or just announcing impending doom for whoever awaits with his beloved

It isn’t the Hell Hounds or the twisting shadows with suggestions of Little D giggles or piercing eyes that turns your captors’ blood cold, but the jingle of his royal jewelry.

Diavolo aims to be fair and balanced. A just ruler. As he stares down your captors, he really wonders if there should be exceptions. Centuries of carefully crafted compassion, the desire to see unity between the three realms, is almost overpowered by baser demon instincts demanding for the blood, for the head, of those who should steal from him

The urge to crush their throat in his hand is almost enough to make it itch

Diavolo scowls, his eyes burning into them. Does he flare his wings to look big and impressive, or keep them drawn close to use the gilded tips to slice their throat? Decisions, decisions...

He fears he is not impartial enough to make a decision. Diavolo barely stops himself from asking you to decide their fate. That would make these little gremlins scramble over to you and paw at you as they try to persuade you. As they beg for their mercy. He doesn’t like that.

They don’t get to touch you again. Not after they’ve manhandled you and led him on a hunt.

Instead, he breaks you free of restraints with his bare hands, with terrifying power you would’ve never imagined he’d have or use, and rubs your wrists. The Hell Hounds have your captors squished against the far wall and he could care less of their existence

Seeing that your captors graciously provided a dingy, flattened mattress and something that should pass as a blanket gives him an iota of compassion.

Diavolo swaddles you in the blanket, apologizing that he didn’t bring anything nicer or that it’s not a comforting smell, and lowers himself to the mattress. He sets you in his lap and sits as dignified as ever, like he is on his throne.

“Close your eyes, beloved.” he rocks you a little, turning you into his chest as he pulls the blanket around your head. He commands the Hell Hounds to drag your captors before him.

He makes a deal with them. “Plead your case, and if you convince me, I will let you live.”

Diavolo covers your ears as your captors begin to accuse each other and incoherently tell a story. He clacks his nails along his jewelry in an age-old sign that the Hell Hounds recognize as attack.

It’s not outright maiming, no. Just insistent nibbling, maybe a little bit of dragging. It really depends on if they fight over the same one or not. He continues to remind them that they should be pleading their case and convincing him, not screaming about their legs and tendons

After what seems like ages, he calls the dogs off. They’ve had their fill. At least one of your captors has died from blood loss (probably). There’s one pathetic one still twitching and whimpering. Somehow they’re able to look up at him as he breezes past with your quivering form bundled up in his arms

“Y-You said you’d let us live...” he was gasping and straining. Shaking.

“If you convinced me,” Diavolo nodded in agreement. His eyes seemed even brighter than normal. Crueler. “And I cannot lie.” he turns away, making the clacking noise again.

I hope you liked it :)

[ajwrites52]

Batober Day 4-FEAR

(Set on a different Earth, please head to Ao3 to read the origin and background of this Batman. If interest is large enough, I might post some chapters over here on Tumblr.)

The chill October air sends shivers down the boy's spine. Most children the age of ten would be in bed, being tucked in by their parents. But not Jimmy Prescott, an absent father and a mother who worked nights, and the ten-year-old had nothing at home but an empty fridge. Like many boys in Gotham, he and the others found entertainment; this was probably the worst one ever devised. With only a flashlight in hand and the clothes on his back, Jimmy wandered into the cold and empty cemetery. He looks back at the gates, his seniors sitting on their bikes waving to him and pushing him to keep going. Biting his lip, he pressed on before stopping at the rusted fence and overgrown weeds that protected a closed-off part of the cemetery. 

"H-He's not real. He's just a story, that's it."

His trembling hand pried the gate open, the loud creaking of the hinges scaring a murder of crows to fly away, startling the young lad. He could hear his classmates laughing at him from a distance. He clenched his fist and shined his flashlight forward before entering the dark walkway towards the dilapidated and crumbling tombstone surrounded by rotten weeds. Jimmy shines the flashlight on the fallen golden plaque and reads it beneath his breath.

"Here lies Dr. Jonathan W. Cane. March 1635-1692. May his spirit forever lie in rest and never return."

He rummaged in his coat pocket and took a deep breath, his body quaking as he unfolded the slip of paper and set his phone to record. He stared at the broken grave and swallowed his fears before beginning to speak.

"Oh, dear Doctor Crane. Long may he reign. When the red roses bloom and the moon hangs in the air, shall your eyes open? When the crows cry out, and the land turns cold, shall you speak your first words?"

BRAKAKOOM!

He shakes as he stares up at the sudden arrival of storm clouds above him. He gulps before continuing with a shaky breath.

"When Gotham cries, and her children grow old and die. S-Shall your fingers grasp your scythe."

The second crash of thunder erupts in the sky, causing Jimmy to jump as cold raindrops begin to hit his head. He would turn back, but if he didn't bring back proof, he would be the victim of endless teasing and bullying by his compatriots. So, he continued.

"Will you stand up when the streets flood with lights and people? Will you take your first steps when your demonic servant takes flight in the night sky?"

The wind begins to whip around him, causing the drops of rain to feel like razor blades against the child's skin. He's now utterly terrified and wants to leave as soon as possible. 

'Screw this!' he thought. He grabbed his phone and crumbled up the paper before running for the exit. But the wind got stronger the farther he got from Crane's grave. He felt as if he was fighting nature itself as he got closer to the fence; the thunder roared and screamed in his ears while the lightning blinded him temporarily. Jimmy didn't know why, but every part of his body shouted to him three simple words.

"Don't. Turn. Around."

The hairs on his neck stood up as he ran faster than ever before. He felt something, some dark and horrifying thing behind him. He could hear it too; it had a voice like a cold blade scraping against his eardrums. He was almost there. But he then felt the wind whisper in his ears; it was that voice once again carried by the wind. He feels long, and skinny fingers wrap themselves around his neck while another grabs his left arm. A cold and boney presence places itself on his shoulder as he hears it whispers in his ear. 

"Don't turn around. Finish it."

Jimmy's eyes welled up with tears, his short life flashes before his eyes as he can feel his pants warming up upon him, soiling himself in fear. He wants to scream, to scream for help from his mother, who he wants to arrive and save him from this THING! 

"Finish it."

"I-"

"Finish it."

"Help."

"Finish it!"

"HELP! ANYONE!!"

"FINISH IT!!!"

He sobs and cries out, hoping that he'd be close enough for at least his friends to hear his pleas for help. But it was to no avail. No one was coming for him. Not his so-called friends. Not even his mother, who had no idea where he even was. He then felt himself being slowly dragged back towards the grave. The boy's body turns ice-cold as he nears the tombstone once again. He feels the claws of this creature pierce his neck and slither themselves into his esophagus. As he returns to the grave, he once again hears that same spine-tingling voice in his ear once more commanding him.

"Finish it."

So he did.

"M-Mr. Crane. Mr. Crane. When you stand and talk again, who will be your Scarecrow of fear before you disappear?"

Jimmy felt his vocal cords severed; he slowly held his throat. His hands feel something warm and wet. His torso follows the same sensation before his eyes look forward, only to find the graveyard gone and replaced by a dense, thick fog. Jimmy's tears hit the ground as something begins to form in the distance. A silhouette starts to form of a tall male figure walking towards him. His eyes widen as he recognizes the man. A feeling of elation and joy overwhelms him at the appearance of the tall, dark-haired gentleman dressed in a black cloak with a strange cowl with white eyes. The man removes the cowl and smiles, revealing a handsome gentleman's face with a kind smile.

"Hey, kiddo."

"D-daddy?"

Tears of joy now fall from Jimmy's cheeks as he holds out his arms for his father. The man smiles and embraces his son before whispering into the child's ear. 

"Why you, of course. You shall become my silent and strong Scarecrow while I walk the earth. For you shall show them all their true fears."

Jimmy freezes up, his father pulling away from the hug and looking at him with angry and hateful eyes. His father screams and shakes the young man, blood dripping from every orifice as he berates the young boy.

"I hate you! I HATE YOU! YOU USELESS BRAT! I LOST EVERYTHING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!"

Jimmy tries to defend himself, to understand as he feels himself sinking. He cries out to no avail. His father continues to bleed out before falling to his knees and screaming as Jimmy can do nothing but watch before falling into the grave of Dr. Crane. 

"Thank you, Scarecrow."

 His screams bounce against the seemingly bottomless pit before he can hit the metaphorical bottom. A large hand grasps onto Jimmy's wrists, holding him in mid-air, "Don't struggle." 

Jimmy could barely piece together descriptions of his savior, he couldn't tell where the shadows began, and the figure ended. All he could note was his piercing white eyes and the yellow light ruminating from his chest. His voice was gruff, almost like he was a monster, and his palm covered his whole wrist. 

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" 

The tunnel trembled and began to fall apart; Jimmy looked down at his feet and screamed at the horrors he saw below. The shadows of the abyss below glowed bright orange; from shadows emerged a colossal skull consumed in flames. Its fanged maw opened up, unleashing a giant tower of fire upwards. The apparition roared with an abhorrent and ear-shattering scream. 

"HE IS MINE!!!!"

"Hang on!" The dark figure unlatched itself from the walls, its wings unfurling as they took off upwards towards the closing gap. The heat hits their backs; they escape by a hair's breadth, crashing onto the muddy ground. "Ow." 

Jimmy's eyes open slowly as the rain hits his face; now looming over him was the exact dark figure that saved him earlier. Now freed from the abyssal darkness, Jimmy could sparse more precise details of his hero. The glowing circle on his chest held an Emblem in the shape of a bat; he discarded the burning black cloak that once decorated his back. A metal cross with a gold center and silver tip; his body was covered in grey armor. His waist and face were covered by a black cowl sporting elongated ears. His white eyes didn't seem human; they were cold and detached. 

"Get out of here. This place isn't safe." His voice was just as cold and harsh as in the tunnel. He glares at the pit, walking towards the place they just escaped from; he pulls the cross from his back and stiffens. That's when the ground beneath them shook with deadly fury, the earth cracked, steam and hellfire burst forth from the ground sending both flying away as he emerged from the grave. 

"THAT BOY IS MINEEEE!!!!!"

His roar ruptured the sky and summoned a ferocious storm. The sickening orange glow illuminated the area as Batman glared at the light. 

"HE SPOKE THE ENCHANTMENT! HE BROUGHT FORTH MY POWER! HIS FEARS FEED ME!!!" 

Jimmy could no longer scream, the sensation of his lunch evacuating his body prevented as he looked upon Crane's indescribable horrific visage. His fingers, long like needles jutting out his bony wrists, his torso was nothing more than a ribcage with little to no skin attached to it and shackles attached to his arms and neck. But what would never leave the child's mind were his eyes. 

A skull covered by a burlap sack, sharp fangs in place of normal human incisors, and black voids with burning crimson embers in the area of eyes. Crane emerged from the grave, towering over them both like a giant while screaming in anguish and rage. His wide mouth tearing parts of the bag, revealing rotten skin underneath and long grey hairs. 

"YOU CANNOT TAKE HIM FROM ME!!! THE CONTRACT IS SEALED, AND HIS FEARS SHALL BE MINE!!" 

Batman spat on the ground and clenched the cross in his gloved right hand; in his other, he pulled out four Bat-Shaped daggers to hold in between his fingers.

"Bold of you to think that I actually care. You're not taking that child or anyone, Crane." 

His screams were unholy. He slammed his bony palm into the ground sending shockwaves towards man and child. With a click, the silver tip of his cross fired outwards like a bullet, a chain acting as a cable. It wrapped around the boy's leg and pulled him towards the cowled man as they crashed onto a nearby clearing. Jimmy's breath became erratic, and his tears ran down his already wet cheeks. His eyes glazed over as he could only mutter words in a language lost to modern ears. Batman groaned in pain as he carried Jimmy behind a nearby gravestone, hiding them from Crane's wrath.

"Damn it. C'mon kid. Wake up and snap out of it!" He shook the boy by the shoulders, quickly rummaging through one of the pouches on his belt for aid. He placed a paper talisman against the boy's forehead and pressed his thumb, causing the slip to glow and burn with a bright yellow light. Instantly, color returns to Jimmy's skin as he quickly exhales another round of bile. "Good. You're out of the trance. Jimmy, right?"

"W-What's going on?" asked Jimmy, fighting the words out in between sobs. The boy is hoisted up onto his feet, with Batman placing a charm in the boy's hands. 

"No time for questions. Listen to me, run to the gate and place the charm on the outside. Then say these in this order, never break it or stop. And whatever you do, don't look back!"

"B-But," Batman pulled him close, whispering the chant into his young ears before pushing away. With little to no hesitation, he leaped over the grave, chain whip in hand. 

"No buts. NOW GO!" Jimmy trembled as he cowered behind the headstone. The sounds of battle raging on behind him, Crane's screaming and roaring burrowing into his eardrums. Clutching the charm to his chest, he bolted forward, screaming with his full breath. 

"JIMMY! JIMMMMMYYYYYYY!!!!!! Don't YOU RUN FROM ME!!!"

Jimmy screamed louder to ignore the ghouls' cries. He felt the ground distort and change around him; each drop of rain felt like another weight being added onto him. His legs wobbled, and his breathing became raggedy.

"KEEP GOING!" Screamed Batman from the battlefield. Jimmy pushed forward, ignoring the pain in his body as he neared the gate. 

"Jimmy?" 

His body froze; still, his blood went cold as he trembled in place. A feminine voice wormed its way into his ears. It was kind, concerned, and all-around comforting. "Jimmy? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be home!"

"M-Mom. I-" his words clung to his throat; every synapse in his brain screamed at him to keep running, but his legs refused to move. 

"I work day and night! Slave over a hot stove to feed you! And here you are, doing god knows what! HERE! WHAT ABOUT YOUR BROTHER! GOD! WHY MUST YOU CONSTANTLY DISAPPOINT ME!!!" 

Her once kind voice fell apart at the arrival of a sinister and distorted cracked tone. Like nails on a chalkboard, she continued her ravings, getting ever closer to the boy. "I SHOULD'VE LEFT YOU ON THE STREET WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE! YOU' IRRITATING CANCER ON MY LIFE!!!"

Her rants continued, even more, causing Jimmy to fall to his knees in terror. He was done. This was all too much for one boy to go through. He-he should've just surrendered himself to Crane and saved himself and others the pain, but before he could turn around to accept his fate. One of Batman's daggers flew past him, nipping his cheek and snapping him out of the trance. In the reflection of the blade, he saw Batman lunging at the giant Scarecrow avoiding every attack. 

"KEEP GOING!" he yelled from the battlefield. Jimmy clenched his teeth, and despite every molecule in his body yelling at him. He ran forward, ignoring Crane's grip on his soul as he grabbed hold of the rusty gate and slammed the paper charm against it. With a deep breath, he screamed out the command given to him by Batman. 

"Through the murky waters and misty woods, I cast this spirit out of this infernal boon. I renounce your evil power and hold. I remove your binding from my soul! Jonathan Crane, I demand your soul leaves this place! I remove your brand and fear you NO MORE!!!!"

BRAKAKAKOOOM!!!!!!

A bright white light blinded Jimmy, its light burned his shirt, and he felt what felt like lightning strike every cell in his body. As he flew back from the explosion, the world fell apart around him into a bright orange void. He turned around, and all he saw was the burlap sack containing Crane's face burned away, and his natural face was revealed to his former victim. 

His hollow eyes released a waterfall of blood and tar, and his mouth released curses in a language, not even he could parse. The demon's face opened its maw and flew towards Jimmy, cackling as it attempted one last time to claim the boy's soul. 

"NOT TODAY!!" 

Before he could swallow the boy whole, Batman descended with his cross in hand, unleashing the bladed tip with the chain. He slammed his weapon in between Crane's eyes, cracking the skull apart and unleashing a bright and unholy white light. Jimmy screamed, only to be scooped up in Batman's arms as the two were engulfed in the explosion.

"Yo, Jimmy. You okay?"

Jimmy opened his eyes and screamed as he fell to the dirty floor. He scanned the area, finding himself surrounded by his former friend as they stood before the gate. The Batman was nowhere in sight and not a sign of Crane. The scratch on his cheek was no longer there nor the charm he'd used to defeat the demon. 

"I-I gotta go home." With little hesitation, Jimmy rode off home. A new sense of vigor in his veins as he left the cemetery. The remaining boy's began to ponder and eventually mock Jimmy's quickness. Still, they too fled in droves as they finally took notice of the large black and grey figure that loomed over them draped in a long black cape. His white eyes sent fear deep into their souls as they evacuated the area in haste. 

"Good. And stay out." He said. Batman Batman turned to the site of the paranormal he stood in moments earlier. He placed a small blue gem within the lock of the gate; within seconds, the gate crackled and resonated with an electric blue aura. It hummed before going silent, forever. Batman smirked and turned away, vanishing into the night to his next battle against the monsters in the night. 

-THE END-

[prophecy-is-inevitable]

On the Eve of November

Outpost!Michael x Demon! Fem Reader Oneshot

Halloween night marks Michael’s final victory over the witches, and his father sends you--a Prince of Hell--to offer your congratulations to his son.

Warnings: Smut...this is really just smut. Language, Some Blasphemy, maybe a little fighting for dominance, Scratching (let me know if I need to add anything!)

Word Count: 5k (WHOOPS)

Outpost!Michael won the poll, so here is the Halloween oneshot I promised! I hope you all enjoy, and have a great Halloween! (Bonus points to you if you know which Prince you are before the end.)

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The fires and candle flames of Outpost 3 flickered into nonexistence and threw the empty hallways into shadow. The tendrils of smoke rising from the wicks and embers funneled to one concentrated spot and blotted out any remaining light. As soon as your form finished materializing, your nose crunched at the acrid smell of vomit and blood. Heels clicked on along the floor as you wove your way around the room and past the array of bloodied, decapitated, or smoldering bodies around your feet. You hiked up the burnt, ragged edges of your long skirt to avoid the mess. It was one thing to cause such carnage, and it was another thing entirely to wear it.

“What the fuck, Michael,” your groaned. Your pace quickened as you hunted for the man. It wasn’t hard--just follow the bodies. Candles and fires relit upon your approach to light your way through the complex. It looked like absolute chaos. Large bullet holes littered the once perfectly polished wood walls, and blood and organs had exploded over the stairs. It was a lovely tomb, far too generous for these failed humans, you thought. You quirked an eyebrow at the body of a woman laying on the floor missing her heart. At least he was keeping his energy up with all of this. You rounded a corner to see him standing in the hallway with his back to you and his elegant clothes in tatters. His shoulders were tensed and he pulsed with the energy prepared for a fight.

He whipped around and extended a hand towards you, intending to launch you against the wall, and you deflected the attack with a dismissive wave of your hand. His crystalline eyes widened a fraction as his lips curled into a silent snarl. You tilted your head to the side with an incredulous furrow of your brows and a soft smile at his reaction.

“Really, Michael?” He stood straighter at the sight of you, his eyes searching you from head to toe, and you sway carefully over to him as if approaching a caged lion. His eyes held the same predatory, calculating, coldness on that beautifully chiseled face. 

“You.” He spit the word as if it’s the same poison on his tongue he’d used to kill the inhabitants. Your eyes widened in a gesture of mock hurt, and you placed an ornately armored hand to your chest, each piece of clawed armor on your fingers clinking together.

“Me? Here I thought you’d be happy to see me. I’m happy to see you.” You pouted when reaching your other silver clawed hand out to wipe some of the blood from his cheek. He gripped your wrist in a vice with his rings digging into the broken shackle around the delicate joint. 

“Why are you here?” Your pout melted into a smooth, seductive smirk. He still towered over you, and you looked into his turquoise eyes from under your lashes.

“Daddy might not always answer you, precious, but he’s always listening.” Feigning boredom, you began to run one metal nail under the other. He practically growled at the pet name and you chuckled. “After a pathetic fiasco in 1984, he decided to take a more passive roll with summons and rituals. Otherwise, people would never shut the fuck up with their pathetic begging. ‘Save me this’ and ‘help me’ that. That’s what God is for, you wretches.” Your eyes narrowed up as him, and you reached out to try and straighten his shirt and salvage whatever was left of his style. The bloodstained velvet of his dinner jacket had somehow managed to retain the smooth and luxurious texture, and the heat of his body kept the fabric warm beneath your fingers. The richness of the material suited him. “Since the apocalypse, I haven’t been very busy, and--as a mere prince--I have to do what your daddy says,” you shrugged, running your hands down his lapels. “Consider me a sort of...answering service. Though you seem to have everything well in hand. How about that!” Your head tilted once again with a coy smile.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Michael said through gritted teeth. His lips are pursed tightly in his annoyance, and the air grew stagnant in the hallway around you both. Michael took a step closer until you were nearly breathing on his chest. “Answer me. Now.” His voice rose marginally, and it’s just enough to echo through the vacant halls. 

“Oh, listen to you! Making demands of an Archdemon and a Prince of Hell! My, how you’ve--” Michael’s hand quickly grasped your throat and squeezed. What he anticipated causing you pain earned him a moan instead as your eyes slipped closed. You could feel his grip falter momentarily in his confusion before it grew more intense. You gasped and released a breathless chuckle. His gaze searched your face, you could feel his eyes taking in every aspect of your lustful expression. Suddenly, his hand released you, and he took a few steps back with a tight smirk.

“That is exactly why you’re here, isn’t it?” He watched you with a side glance as you adjusted the chandelier choker at your neck and shoulders.

“Whatever do you mean?” Your eyelashes fluttered with an ill-suited expression of innocence. Michael’s eyes travelled down to the deep v of your dress that plunged to the top of your navel. The dark laughter bubbled from low in his chest and reverberated in the halls as he tipped his head back. It had you absolutely throbbing with need and was fucking embarrassing. Then again, this was Satan’s son, the highest Crowned Prince of Hell, created to be every idea of perfection and desire there could be. From the shimmering strands of golden silk draping his shoulder, to his slender perfect nose, to those mesmerizing oasis eyes set within the dunes of his elegant cheekbones… You couldn’t have designed him more perfectly yourself, and you had a lot of ideas thanks to your reign.

Michael ran his tongue along his upper teeth and continued to smirk at you. He tilted his head inquisitively, and you mimicked him playfully. The timber of his voice had dropped to a dangerously seductive tone filled with confidence when he spoke again.

“I have won.”

“A very astute observation, Michael.” Slowly, he sauntered back to you and ran one ringed finger along your cheek and down your jaw.

“I have won. I’ve done everything he asked. Cordelia let her successor die before she could complete her plan.” Michael extended his arms out from his sides, a prideful smirk stretching across his lip, and he cocked his head to the side. “There is no one left to stop me.” The warmth of Michael’s hand rested on a bare section of your clavicle as he looked over your body once again. His smirk grew and he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Now, I’m receiving my reward. Father sent you, did he not? One of his princes, here to please me in the hour of my greatest victory, and on our night no less. The night before your powers are at their strongest, if I’m not mistaken.” Michael leaned his head down and his breath ghosted across your cheek as he spoke softly. You could feel his lips only a hair’s breadth away from the shell of your ear.

His words should not have caused the goosebumps that prickled across your arms and chest, nor should it have caused the slight weakness in your knees. You had been around for millennia. You had 72 legions of demons under your command, dammit! How dare--

Michael’s lips brushed along your neck above the elaborate jewelry veiling your soft skin. He knew exactly what effect he had on. The hierarchy of demons granted him the ability to toy with you just as he did with humans despite your ancient status. And he played you like a child with their favorite old toy. Michael’s hands gripped your hips tightly and, with a violent jerk, he tugged you flush against him. 

You didn’t even want to fight him. You wanted him to have his moment and embrace his victory--embrace you. Despite the lack of necessity for breath, you found yourself panting against him in anticipation. The tip of his tongue traced up the tendon in your neck up to your jaw. The mewl that slipped from between your lips was almost embarrassing and made worse by his syrupy chuckle that you could feel against your chest. You were positively dripping, and there was no doubt that he knew. 

“Hell has sent its greatest whore to pleasure me, I see. What, was Lilith too busy today?” His verbal jab made your eyes narrow dangerously. That succubus had nothing on you, and you would prove it. Renewed vigor flowed through you as your hands gripped his jacket tightly; the sharp metal claws tipping your fingers scratched and tore into the thick, expensive fabric adorning his chest.

“I’m going to make it so that you don't even remember her name. From now on, whenever your cock gets hard, you’re going to think of me,” you purred into his ear as you stood on your toes. Using the purchase you had on his clothing, you dragged his mouth to yours and moaned at the sweet and smoky taste of his sultry full lips. Michael's body radiated power and the heat of the inferno from which he was born, and it drew you in like a moth to a roaring bonfire.

Michael’s hands clenched into fist at your waist, and you heard the sharp inhale through his nose when you ran your tongue along the curve of his lips. It was your turn to chuckle. Dominion over lust had not been granted to you without reason, and you’d had centuries of playing with mortals and lesser demons to perfect your...talents. You weren’t entirely helpless against the superiority of the Antichrist. The feeling of his rigid length pressed firmly against your stomach proved that.

Within seconds the power shifted, and he had you against the wall. His dull nails sank into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs when he bunched up your skirts and held your legs apart around his waist. The touch was scalding. You could feel the crescent marks burning into your skin.

“Not making empty promises, are we?” Michael crooned, the tip of his nose dancing along yours. The smirk on his face was predatory when your lips parted with the expectation of another searing kiss. His wicked laughter caused a shiver that ran up your spine. “What makes you think you are worthy of me?”

With your heels locked behind his waist, you used the position to your advantage and flexed your legs to grind your hips together. As much as he talked shit, you knew he wanted this, but two could play his game. A light breath, akin to that of blowing out a candle, forced Michael off of you and against the opposite wall. 

“If I’m so unworthy, I suppose I will simply show myself out.” You vanished in the blink of an eye, your playful chuckle bounding throughout the underground complex. Of course, you made it very easy for him to find you. All Michael needed to do was follow the trail of lit candles up to the room he had inhabited as his office while at Outpost 3. The growl he emitted upon opening the door and seeing you sitting so daintily on the spiral iron staircase made your eyes burn with unbridled lust. 

Michael stalked over to you with a scowl on his face, golden hair billowing around his shoulders from the speed of his strides, and you parted your legs wantonly to welcome him between them. You had him eating out of the palm of your hand whether he would ever admit it or not. Michael was rough when he pulled your hips against his once more. Your metallic claws dragged down his torso and cut through his shirt and jacket to leave thin red marks on his otherwise unblemished skin. You could feel him twitch against you with his pants the only barrier standing between the two of you.

Both of your hands grasped onto the metal rails of the stairs when he sharply yanked your hips towards the edge of the stair. The last thing you expected was to see him dropping to his knees and burying his face between your legs. Your head tipped back against the stair above you with a strangled cry of surprise that quickly morphed into a long moan. Instantly, your hands sank into the satin curtains of hair around his head as his tongue made a long swipe over your folds. His movements were impatient when he forced your legs farther apart.

“Michael…” You could feel the smirk on his lips when he took your clit into his mouth and sucked. Hard. Your back arched against the stairs and your hands scrambled to grab onto his shoulder. It had been so long since someone had sought to pleasure you as much as themselves. He certainly didn’t get those manners from his father…

Michael’s teeth nipped at your sensitive nerves and you yelped, filling the room with your loud cries of pleasure. Soft sounds of tearing fabric filled your ears when you continued to clutch his shoulders so hard that his jacket ripped at the seams. The deeper he worked his tongue into your core, the brighter his celestial eyes burned. It made your chest heave as you stared at each other, waiting to see who would break first.

It was you.

Michael stumbled back when you pushed him away. His eyes flared black in his agitation, and you returned the obsidian gaze. Short strides carried you to him until your hands grasped his sculpted face and drew his lips back to yours. It was a dance of domination and desperation, your tongue swirling and battling against his while you both inhaled the growing heat and arousal of your flushed skin. At the same time, your steps urged him backwards until he dropped down into the chair behind the desk. Ah, victory. It looked so sweet when it came in the form of Michael man-spreading in a chair with mused hair, kiss-swollen lip, and a very obvious and impressive erection all courtesy of you. You knelt in front of him before he had the chance to move. He had done the same for you, and you weren’t so cold as to not return the favor.

Michael’s eyes watched you carefully. At first, his expression almost looked like boredom, but you could see the tension in his jaw and feel the way his abdominal muscles contracted beneath your fingers. You pursed your lips while deftly roaming your fingers over his belt.

“Take your jacket and shirt off, Michael.” It hardly covered him anymore anyway, but his eyes narrowed at your command. You sat back on your heels to look up at him. “Come on. Off with it.” Reluctantly, he undid the buttons and tossed both items away. The sight of his bare torso, stained here and there with flecks of blood, was so very enticing. You leaned forward, placing sloppy and open-mouthed kisses over his chest and down his stomach. The sight of his stomach heaving from your actions made you moan against his skin. His hips bucked into your hands when you cupped him through the material of his pants. 

Teasingly, your fingers slowly caught the waistband of his pants. Your eyes shot up to his when you noticed the absence of anything else underneath. The smirk he gave you was pure mischief, and you licked your lips at the sight of his weeping tip. One of his ringed hands sank into your hair and urged you forward; you allowed it this time. The shape of him was perfect--something humans modelled their toys after. Oh, how eager you were to play. He truly had been crafted to perfection.

The tip of your tongue ran along the pulsing vein of his shaft, and his groan filled you with pride. Flicking your eyes up to his, you noticed that they were closed and his head was tipped back to let his hair cascade over his bare shoulders. The candlelight flickered on his skin and you could spot the beginnings of sweat beading on his chest. A quick flick of your tongue caught the beads of precome that tickled from the head of his cock. The hand in your hair tightened, but you gave him a warning glare with growl. This was not his time to take control.

One hand stroked the length of his shaft and the other gently scratched down his chest. Michael arched into your touch, and you hummed around his tip when your lips encircled him. The groan that fell from his lips was nothing short of obscene and it drove you on. He even sat up more to get a better view of your mouth swallowing down his cock. Your eyes locked with his and you smirked around him. The taste of his heated length alone made you moan. Trick or treat indeed.

Michael’s chest was heaving before you even reached the base. You held there for a moment and then began to bob your head. It was only moments until he bucked his hips upwards, shoving himself deeper down your throat, and tugged your head against his pelvis. Your nose is pressed to his skin and the musky, salty smell invades your senses. A guttural moan tore through the amber-lit room when hollowed your cheek to suck greedily at the head of his cock and your hands pumped the rest of his shaft. The way your core throbbed at the sound told you your body was more than ready to feel him inside of you. You stood without warning, and Michael instantly moved to follow. One of your heels on his chest pushed him harshly back into his chair.

“Stay.” Michael glared at you, but he did not repeat his effort to move. “Good boy,” you cooed. You didn’t miss the way his hands tightened on the arm of the chair. You removed your foot from him and took a step back. With your back to him, you reached back to undo the clasps of your dress. Clearly, he was far too impatient by that point, and a light snap of his fingers finished your work for you before it even began. The clothing covering you both disappeared, but you noticed that he left the vast amounts of jewelry on you, from the tips of your ears down to the gilded manacles on your feet. 

“Let me see you.” The request fell from his lips much softer than you would have expected, and you complied easily. His eyes widened so subtly that you would have missed it had you not been watching him carefully. Azure eyes devoured your appearance. Your breasts were framed by the chandelier necklace hanging over your shoulders and dripping onyx beads down your sternum. Michael’s hands slowly rose, his eyes still roving over your figure. 

"You may touch me," you allowed. At first, he only ran his fingers over the shimmering cuff on your upper arms. Then he trailed down to the broken jeweled shackles on your wrist that matched the pair around your ankles. He gently maneuvered your hands on his shoulder to lure you closer. It placed your chest at the same height as his lips. Greedily, his head leaned forward to take a hardened nipple between his lips. A sigh of relief escaped your own.

Michael continued the slow exploration of his hands. They moved back up your arms, over the collection of diamonds and midnight gemstones dangling across your shoulders, and down your sides to hold your hips. Each fingertip left a trail of raised skin in its wake. The simple touches made you shiver, and you let Michael see this time. His hands curled around your waist to pull you in closer, and you pushed your hands against his shoulders. He released your nipple with a wet “pop” and furrowed his brow.

Your movements were fluid and smooth when you pushed him back into the chair and straddled his hips. His erection stood proudly against his abdomen; you stroked him delicately, careful not to graze the sensitive skin too harshly with your armored fingers, and you returned your lips to his. The pillowly softness was something you had never encountered with your previous lovers. Michael could happily drown you in those full lips, drink you dry, or curse your name and you would beg for more. A combination of your movements gave you the room necessary to line him up with your core. 

Sweet moans accompanied the simultaneous fall of both of your heads towards each other. His breath mingled with yours in the limited space between your lips. For moments the pair of you did nothing but breathe each other in and stroke your noses together in an almost tender fashion.

“Move,” Michael breathed tightly. The flex of his fingers into your hips made you bite your lip. Your lips lifted slowly at first, and then dropped quickly into his lap. “Fuck!” Your head dropped back again with a bark of a laugh. Hearing him curse from one simple movement had you clenching around him instantly. You repeated the motion, his fingers digging into your hips with a fiercer grip, and you moaned loudly. 

Tinkling of your jewelry chimed in time with the steady rolling of your hips over Michael’s. Always one to enjoy an active role in his pleasure, Michael urged you to ride him harder using his hands on your hips. He pulled you down sharply, burying himself inside of you, and returned his mouth to your chest. His teeth caught a taut nipple and tugged. You rewarded him with a cry of ecstasy and carded your hands through his long hair. Every pulse of his cock inside of you stroked your walls with a delicious pressure and pulled you closer to the edge. You didn’t notice how much Michael was controlling your movements until he angled your hips forward on your downward thrust and made you cry out. You tightened around him and increased your pace to bounce off his lap. Soon, the chiming of jewels was drowned out by the clapping of your skin on his and your unified moans of each other’s names.

Michael abandoned your breasts for the time being and turned his attention to the droplet of sweat rolling down between them. His tongue caught the salty droplet, and he licked his way back up to your neck. You shuddered over him and pushed him back against the chair again. Things like that would have this over far sooner than you wanted. The smirk on his devilishly handsome face clued you in to just how pleased he was with himself. He could feel you trembling around him. You ran a jeweled nail over his lower lip and decided to tease him. Your hips rose slowly until only the tip of him remained inside of you. The descent back into his lap went just as methodically. Several times you repeated the motion, swirling your hips once he was fully sheathed inside of you again, and you grinned wickedly at the tortured groans you pulled from him.

He had been so good and so attentive thus far, so you decided to give him a break. He desired it hard and fast, just as you craved it. The chair protested beneath the forceful ricochet of your bodies colliding. You laughed breathlessly at the return of Michael’s lips to your skin. This time, he left open-mouthed kisses over the tops of your breasts and your neck.

Without warning, Michael propelled himself up and out of the chair to slam you down on the desk. His pace never faulted throughout the change of position. The lines of his face were set into a look of determination.

“You’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine,” he hissed in your ear. His hair framed his face and grazed your skin as he loomed over you. Rough hands gripped your thighs and shoved them apart. The first sharp thrust forced the air from your lungs. The sparkle in Michael’s eyes was unmistakable. He was in control now.

He targeted the depths inside of you that had caused you to cry out earlier, and he set a relentless pace. His lips burned across your stomach and chest as he explored every inch of your skin that he could want. Your hands found purchase on his back, the points of your nails sinking into the slick flesh around his shoulderblades. Michael growled and bit into your collarbone with a particularly rough thrust into you.

“Michael!” His name fell from your lips in the most sinful, sensual prayer. He breathed heavily in your ear now, drowning out the deep thudding of your back being drilled into the dark wood of the desk. “Michael…” You could feel his hips beginning to stutter in the bruising pace he had set. It must have felt good for him to be able to let go and not worry about the frailty of a human’s body beneath him. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you into him again to achieve the depths his mind was screaming for him to reach. 

One bite into the already bruised skin of your neck and a perfectly timed thrust was all it took to send you spiraling over the precipice of pleasure. Your legs latched behind his thighs to lock him against you. Every spasm that rippled your body amplified his pleasure, and you felt Michael spill himself into you with a strangled cry. His warm release inside of you made your head drop back against the desk with a thud. He buried his face into the crook of your neck to ride out the aftershocks of your combined orgasms.

“Happy Halloween, Michael,” you whispered with lips pressed to his ear.

Dampened skin held you together, and you lovingly stroked his hair back out of his face. It had been well worth the visit, you thought with a smile. Feather light kisses in your neck and jaw caught you by surprise. The kiss to your lips was slow, conveying a long-sought satisfaction, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulder. It was an ancient dance, the tangling of tongue and limbs, and usually accompanied by the same heady smell that surrounded you both in that moment. You decided that this was your favorite perfume--the smell of desire and sin, of sweat and carnality, all mixed with the intoxicating scent of Michael.

A gentle tap to his shoulder signalled for Michael to remove himself from you. He did so slowly, carefully, and with a slight grimace. Your back still arched with the sensation. You looked over his lean and picturesque form from your spot on the desk. Yes, you wouldn’t mind if this became a regular occurrence. He dressed languidly--all the time in the world stood waiting for him now. You followed suit when he retrieved your dress. Michael even offered to help with the clasps and buttons at your back. Of course, it wasn’t so simple. He dropped sensually slow and wet kisses over each inch of your spine Bedford doing up the respective button. The resounding boom of clocks striking midnight thundered through the halls. November 1st. Your eyes slipped shut at the returning power thrumming through your veins. It had only been fair to Michael to send you before your powers heightened to their prime. Now you would be able to return home.

“Do you really want to know why I’m here?” you asked over your shoulder. His hands paused in their task.

“It would be in your best interest to tell me the truth.” You rolled your eyes and turned to drape your forearms over his shoulder. His hands instinctively fell to hold your wasit, and it made you smile.

“Your father wished for me to bring you to him.” The expression that crossed his face was precious. Your smile grew at the pure disbelief and childish wonder. Your fingers picked up one long curl and twisted it around your fingers and then let it fall back against his shoulder.

“What?’

“I know! He’s proud of you. He knows how hard this has all been, and he wishes to congratulate you. In person.” You took a few steps towards the door, your hand clutching his and trying to pull him with you, but he was frozen where he stood, eyes unfocused. “Michael, come on!” you laughed softly, “We shouldn’t keep him waiting--not any more than we already have.” He looked to you then and gestured between the two of you.

“So what was this then?” You swayed your hips on your way to the door and twisted the handle with a coy little smile.

“Fun, wasn’t it?” You winked as you opened the door. The deserted halls of Outpost 3 were not on the other side. Michael’s eyes widened at the geysers of molten lava and the long polished bridge of obsidian leading to an ancient palace of equally dark stone set on the far side. “Welcome home, Prince Michael.” His arm slid around your waist while his eyes took in everything new around him.

“Thank you, Asmodeus. I suppose having a friend in the Prince of Lust could have its benefits.”

"Oh yes. Whenever you'd like."

[imagination-is-key-in-my-world]

Trauma

Authors Note: I mixed in parts of the book series for the fun of it. I hope you like it!

Request: Could you possibly write a Jace x Reader fanfiction where the reader has been through some trauma and gets triggered when making out with Jace?

Pairing: Jace Wayland x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jace were together for quite sometime before Clary came onto the scene. It had broken Y/N beyond relief when Jace had ended the relationship upon meeting this girl. Her whole world is then turned upside down when Clary destroyed the boat and possibly her entire life.

Warnings: Swearing, some references to incestuous behaviour and physical and mental triggers.

Word Count: 6,092

I was on the boat that day. The day where something suspicious happened with Clary and Jace while they were talking with Valentine. None of us Shadowhunters really know the true extent of what happened to shake up our entire world during that battle. No one other than those who were down in the bunker with Valentine.

It is not like I was meant to be there, on that boat. The morning of the battle, Jace had come to my room at the institute and was practically on his knees begging me not to attend. He knew something bad was going to go down and at that precise moment, I put it all down to the thought that possibly he was trying to protect me from getting caught in the crossfire. But there was something there, something unnerving niggling behind his eyes.

I had seen that look once before. The night that we broke up, when he swore to me that he had no feelings for Clary. Since that day we had remained civil to one another but things were not quite the same between us. I loved the boy but he had forgotten all about me now that he had his sister on the scene. Which is why it was so confusing when he came to my room that night to convince me to stay away from the battle. He pulled out all the stops, he even called me by the nickname he gave me when we were together, ‘Darling.’

Just like the day that I first heard the nickname, I was putty in his hands. He could manipulate me that well with one word. The worst part was, I knew it. I knew I was a pawn and yet I almost fell for it yet again. Almost.

That night I had waited until Jace and Clary had left to go and see Valentine on the ship. The inquisitor was busy talking to Maryse about what to expect tonight, which meant that I had a couple minutes to find Alec and convince him to let me join them. Everyone knew that Alec had a soft spot for me, I was like his baby sister. Isabelle was stricter with me, she always prevented me from going on the hunts mainly because she was terrified that I would either get myself hurt or her. She was not as convinced of my abilities as Alec were.

“Alec, please!” I pleaded as he tugged at the bow that was sliding down my shoulder. “Something is going on with Jace and there is a reason he is trying to keep me away tonight!” Just like me, Alec knew what Jace was really like.

“I can’t just defy the inquisitor and give her another body to protect.” The way that he said body made me shake with a small sense of irritation.

“Hey!” Smacking his shoulder with the back of my hand. “I am not just a body! I can protect myself and you know that.”

It took longer than I had imagined to get Alec on side but all my best efforts and manipulation techniques that I had picked up along the way worked a saint. “You better not make me wish I handcuffed you to the bed.” Alec huffed as he handed me back my weapon of choice with a wide range of arrows to complete the deadly device.

***

“Save those kinky thoughts for Magnus.” Quickly I pushed myself up onto the tips of my toes to place a soft peck on his cheek. Something I had picked up along the way while growing up with Alec. It was the kindest thing I could do after all the manipulation I had done over the years.

I had not realised how bad the battle was going to be until I was there. Dozens of Shadowhunters were slaughtered by the demons that Valentine had summoned using the Mortal Instruments. It was possibly the most haunting thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I had witnessed my friends and family die for one another while Valentine’s demons did not give a rat’s ass. They were truly monsters of Valentine’s own creation.

“Try and find Jace, Y/N!” Alec shouted over the grunts and groans on the top level of the boat. “We need to get out of here before anyone else dies! Be-” Before Alec could finish talking, he was thrown across the deck by one of the larger demons.

“Alec!” I screamed as I could no longer see him. Tears filled my eyes when I did not receive a response from him.

“Y/N do what he said. Go find the others. I will stay with him.” Isabelle was shaking my shoulder trying to get me to move from my frozen state. “Hurry!”  

I finally register and begin running for cover. There were bodies everywhere, some that I recognised and some who I had never seen before. However, that did not make me feel any less queasy than I did within that moment looking down on their lifeless bodies.

Across from me, I could see a doorway that must have led downstairs where Alec had just told me to search. Sucking in a long painful breath from the smoke above deck, I ducked my head in and began to calmly run towards the murmurs that I could hear down the other end of the ship.

“Jace, Clary, I am your father, your own flesh and blood. How could you think these dark things of me?” Valentine failed sincerity with every word that he spoke. “You should love me the way that you too love each other.”

There was a dark look in Valentine’s eyes. One of utter disgust and almost a niggle of amusement. “Although, the way that you two love one another is impure, isn’t it my children?” Valentine watched and so did I as his eyes flicked between Jace and Clary.

I should help them. Try and get them out of there alive. But what I was hearing was the one thing I felt that I needed to hear from the day that we found Clary at that club. “Any father’s dream is for his children to be full of love for the other. But I think that you two take the cake for the most devoted brother and sister that I have ever seen.”

“Shut up, Valentine!” Clary screamed as she brandished her weapon from her jeans pocket.

Clearly amused by the whole debacle, Valentine continued to torment his children as I stood by in the shadows. “It is true, isn’t it Jace. You love little Clarissa in a deeply tainted way. What would the Clave think of that?” He taunted further. “You even broke up with that feisty teen from the institute just so that you could sneak around with your sister when all the doors were closed.”

I saw that look in Jace’s eyes. The same look he gave me when I asked if there was something between the pair of them. Defeat. “Stop talking, Valentine.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I quite liked that, Y/N. She was spunky, wait what was the word I used before. Ah yes feisty. Your mother was feisty. A good quality for a successful Shadowhunter to have.” Valentine perched on the edge of a table as he continued to peruse the annoyance and irritation on his children’s faces.

“Admit your true feelings and I will let you go.” Valentine raised his hands as if he were offering a simple transaction and not one that was completely demoralising for everyone who took part. “Lie to me and I will send my demons to tear your sister apart limb from limb.”

“She is your daughter; you would not do that.” Jace screamed at his father grasping fiercely onto his Seraph blade.

Valentine sighed and all I could do was stand there and wait for the admission that I asked for months ago and failed to receive. “You are my son, and she is my daughter. But right now, both of you are in my way so do as I say or you will all die.”

Clary ran across to Jace and pulled him in for a hug. My stomach ached harder. She did the one thing that I feared. She locked her lips on top of his. That was all the confirmation that I needed before my legs gave way and I plummeted to the floor letting out a soft but vocal yelp.

All the eyes in that room darted towards my hiding place. At least my yelp had separated Jace and Clary from their make out session. It all happened so quickly. Within seconds, Valentine had grabbed me by my hair and dragged me into the room with the two incestuous love birds.

Pulling back my hair to force me to stare at the boy I had loved for years clutching the girl he only knew for a matter of months and yet somehow loved her more. “What do we have here?” Valentine mocked as he knew the agonising pain that was now soaring throughout my body. Both physical and mental.

Jace leaned towards me. For a second, I thought that he was fighting to reach me, to save me even, but then he pulled back and stood alongside Clary with what was almost regret in his eyes. Almost. “Now don’t you think that little Y/N would like a front row show of what she had just missed?” Valentine taunted digging his blade into the side of my ribs.

“Don’t hurt her!” Jace spoke through his gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare hurt her.” On the word ‘dare’ Jace’s voice broke, I could hear the pain within his voice. But it was too late. He might care for me, but not like he cared for her.

Clary had out her mother’s stele and she was leaning against the wooden floor. Valentine was too busy marvelling in the chaos that he had caused to give his daughter the slightest bit of attention.

Jace’s eyes found mine and locked onto them. I could barely see him through the tears that were pooling in my eyes. It was over. He loved her, and I was nothing more than a memory to him. She was his present, and what might be his future.

“Open!” Clary screamed which was all I heard before the whole boat began to disintegrate into shards of wood. From what I can remember from that night, I was thrown out of Valentine’s grasp where I hit a rock-hard iron anchor. The pain that I experienced was excruciating, although the mental pain was almost as strong. I have lost him.

There was a loud crash and a boisterous cry from Jace as that giant anchor dislodged itself from the wall and landed on top of me. “Y/N!” His voice was getting quieter while the world began to get darker.

***

That was all I could remember from that day on the boat. Clary had done something to literally break apart the chaos that was forming both up and below board and yet I was the one who ended up in the infirmary for 2 months. I sustained major injuries and a few minor ones that were quickly healed with runes. But for the most of it, I was locked to that bed just like Alec had promised. Completely and utterly bed ridden.

I am not going to lie, I had visitors now and then. Although, for the most part of it, I was desperately alone. I had not seen Jace since that night. Alec showed up every day. He was my one constant that wasn’t just the drugs and horrible food I was receiving. Isabelle would pop by to gossip about how Alec and Magnus were becoming official even though their parents were not thrilled by the idea initially.

All those days cooped up there and I had not seen Jace. The one person I may have been delighted to see 2 months ago, but now I was not too sure that he was.

“Guess what?” Alec quizzed me behind his book that was positioned just below his chin. He had made his very own home from home set up in the corner of the infirmary. “I am not going to continue until you say, ‘Oh my gosh Alec tell me, tell me, tell me!’” He feigned a girly voice as if to impersonate myself. Picking up one of the cushions from the side of the bed, I threw it directly at his face. “Hey! I come here every day to help bring you joy and this is how you repay me? A cushion to the face?”

I laughed. I could always depend on Alec. He truly was my best friend here at the institute. Some days it even feels as though he is my only friend that I have here. “One, I do not talk like that; two, you are a jerk; and three, oh my gosh tell me!” I lived up to the fake voice that Alec had prescribed me.

Holding his hands up in defeat, “Okay I will tell you! Did you know that Clary and Simon broke up?”

“Why would I know that, Alec. You and Isabelle are the only people I see and this is the first that I am hearing this.” You pause and sigh. Simon was supposed to be keeping Clary away from Jace, and now he has basically opened the door for them to be together as they clearly do not care about the brother/sister relationship that they have.

“Alec? I am feeling a little tired. Do you mind if I get some sleep?” This was always the excuse that I used for Alec to leave, which he did even if he did linger slightly longer than he would have done.

“Alright. Love you peanut.” He kissed my forehead and stroked back my hair the way a brother would do for his sister. Everyone knew that if Alec had tried to do this to Isabelle, she would have snapped his wrist for being soppy.

I cried for a couple of hours after Alec had left. No matter how mean it was of me, I wanted Clary to stay away from Jace. Every time that I saw them together after we broke up, it broke me more and more.

***

While I sleep, I cannot prevent my mind from going places that I did not want it to. I could hear Jace’s voice clear as day. There was a sadness to his voice. Almost as if he were fighting back the urge to cry. “I have been such a dick, Y/N. I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”

In my dream he was holding my hand and squeezing it tightly. It felt so real almost as if Jace was really in the room with me holding onto my hand and speaking directly to me.

I turned my head slowly and let my eyes flutter open. “Jace?” My voice cracked as my body began to wake up.

His head was facing down when I first saw him but as soon as I spoke, he shot up and turned his head away from me. Lifting his hands up to his own face and then quickly replacing them to his hips. “Sorry, um.” He coughed still avoiding any form of eye contact with me. “I thought you were asleep. I will go. Sorry again.”

“Jace?” I whispered.

His head turned to face me and that was when his eyes locked onto mine. Even with his badass and fearless exterior, something flipped inside of that blonde-haired assassin. Those tears that I could hear in his voice that I thought were from my dream, suddenly appeared in his eyes.

I had not seen Jace cry in a long time. It was my kryptonite. Every time that I had seen Jace cry growing up, I always folded and any disagreement we were having would become irrelevant as I hated seeing the boy become so broken.

He stood there; his eyes locked onto mine as his tears ran down his face. “This is my fault. This is all my fault. You were hurt because of me.” His voice cracked in places and it shook over every word. I wanted to hold him and to tell him it was okay, but I always wanted to scream at him and to show him how much he had hurt me.

When I did not move or say anything he reached for my hand and pulled it up to his chest. “I miss you Y/N and I hate seeing you this way. Seeing you hate me.”

“If you missed me, where have you been for the past 2 months?” I cried letting my own tears fall from my eyes. “If you really missed me, you would have come to see me every day like Alec.”

Jace fell to his knees but kept hold of my hand. “I was here every day.” He whispered back. “I couldn’t face you hating me or possibly turning me away so I only came here when you were sleeping. I was here every day and every night while you were in the coma for the first month. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Jace, you hurt me.” I squeaked. “More than that anchor did.”

“I know. I am sorry, really, I am. One day I hope that you can forgive me.” There was something else though. Something he was not telling me; I could feel it.

“Jace, what is going on?” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. It was getting more and more painful with every beat and breathing was becoming more difficult.

“Clary and I. We are not actually related. Valentine lied; he is not my father.” Fear washed over me. Without Simon in the way and now without the brother and sister barrier in the way, Jace was free to be with her. They were probably together now and this was his way to break it to me. My mind started going into overdrive. Thoughts kept entering my head with same speed that my heart belted in my chest.

“Y/N?” Jace screamed as my whole body started to shake. Then similarly to the boat fiasco, everything went black.

***

“What happened!” I could hear all the voices in the room but I could not see anyone.

“I told her that Clary and I aren’t related.” Jace’s voice was shaky, panic was clearly rushing throughout his body.

“You did tell her everything though?” Alec’s voice was booming in my ears as his protective brotherly mode was now engaged.

“I couldn’t quite tell her everything, once I told her the first thing this started to happen.”

“You have to tell her Jace! She fucking loves you, can’t you see that!” Isabelle chimed in. Glad to know that I was not subtle enough to slide past Izzy.

“I know! I am doing my best okay.” Jace barked.

“Magnus can you fix her?” Isabelle asked as she was clearly barking orders again at her brother’s boyfriend.

“I can but I will need some space. Y/N’s body has not fully recovered from the damage that she sustained on the boat. It appears that when an intense heart rate is inflicted her body begins to fail. I can help her with this one and do my best to fix the damage, but I cannot be sure that it will minimise the risks of this happening again. It is going to be a complicated spell, and even then magic may not even be her best option.”

“Magnus please.” Jace pleaded. “Do whatever you need to. I will do anything. I cannot lose her.”

***

I woke up to Alec’s head leaning on my shoulder. At some point after Magnus worked his magic, Alec had worked his way into my bed. Instead of waking up in the infirmary, I woke up in the comfortable and familiar surroundings that were my bedroom. Alec was snoring away on my shoulder but it was comforting to have him here with me.

I wiggled around in my bed to find Jace protectively watching over me from his armchair that he branded his spot in my room. There were dark circles under his eyes. I could tell that he had been awake for a long time which only made me more nervous as to how long I was out for. “Jace? What happened?”

It took Jace only a second to register that I was awake and looking right at him. “Hey, shh.” He said softly as he tried to avoid waking up Alec beside me. “Are you okay?” I nodded but it hurt a little to do so. Everything in my head was buzzing since the moment that I woke up. “I need to tell you something.”

My mind flashed back to the conversation that I was able to pick up once I had passed out. Although, I was sort of hoping that I had imagined it. “Before you got sick, I was about to tell you something.” I did not want to hear it. Jace’s face was serious, he was rubbing his chest as if he had indigestion or was having some sort of irritation from his t-shirt. “I cannot help but blame myself for you getting sick earlier. The thing is, I want you to know that Clary and I are not together.” He let his hand fall from his chest so that he could fiddle with his ring. “I knew it was not the right thing to do. We got into a massive fight when she said she wanted me to move away with her. I could not leave you. When you were in that coma, all I could think about was how much I wanted you to be okay. You were on my mind constantly. After the fight, I told her I did not want to be with her so she decided to move to Idris with Luke.”

I did not know what to say. That was a lot of information to take in all at once. “I want you to know that what you did on the boat, coming when I asked you not to. You put the fear of god into me. When I saw that anchor come down on you, I thought I lost you. I ran over to you but it had already done it’s damage.” He began to tear up as he wiped a stray bit of hair away from my eyes.

“I carried you out of there like a rag doll in my arms. I did not even know if you were alive and I had never experience anything as painful as that in my whole life. Y/N I was a wreck, you were the only thing that I cared about when that boat came apart. I realised then that you are the only thing on this god forsaken earth that I give two shits about and I thought I had lost you.” A tear dropped onto my arm as he no longer fought back the tears.

“What about Clary, I thought you loved her?” I questioned as the tears ran down my face. “What about her, Jace?”

He shook his head vigorously. “No. I don’t love Clary. At the time I thought I did, but it has always been you. I love you Y/N, you are my person.” My heart melted as these were the words that I wanted to hear from the minute that I laid eyes of Jace Wayland. “If you would let me, I would like to show you that I can be the man you want me to be. If you give me the chance, I can be the type of boyfriend you want me to be.”

Of course, I love Jace. I always have. The tears soaked through the collar of his shirt which did help his cause. “Jace, that has all I have ever wanted. But you broke my heart when you ended things, how can I be sure you won’t do it again?” Throughout the whole conversation and sobbing, Alec nevertheless laid perfectly still while letting his snores reach new volumes.

“I won’t.” Jace’s beautiful eyes searched mine, “I will not do anything to hurt you ever again. I promise. Please Y/N, I need you.” Jace Wayland the mighty Shadowhunter was showing his true feelings and how could I turn him away after that. He laid one hand on my chest and the other on his own, “I love you.”

“I love you too Jace.” Jace picked himself up from kneeling beside my bed and led alongside me in the bed. His arms draped around my body as he pulled me into his chest. I have never felt as safe as I did in that moment.

***

I woke up during the night to find that Alec was no longer beside me. However, Jace was still cuddled up against me with his arm protectively placed over my hips. I turned to face him, my nose now up against his. “Training starts in an hour, Jace.” I whisper to him.

His body began to stir as he registered my words. Instead of opening his eyes and trying to get out of the bed, Jace grabbed me and pulled me closer to him. “No, I want to stay here.” He grumbled, nestling his head into the crook of my neck. “Plus, you will just end up kicking my ass if we go down to the combat room.”

I push him away slightly as I begin to get excited to get back into training. Magnus had told Jace that if I felt well enough, I could start training again today. The only downside was that I prohibited to go out in the field for possibly a long time yet. I am already out of bed and in the bathroom before Jace can even notice that I am no longer beside him.

“Jace come on, I need to get back into this. I have done nothing for a whole two months. I think my legs are starting to seize up from being led down all the time.” Another grumble from the bedroom. I pick up my toothbrush and begin to brush my teeth. I gazed up at the mirror to stare back at my reflection. I had not seen my own face in days, I had dark circles under my eyes regardless of the amount of sleep that I was getting.

However, that was not what caught my eyes the most. It was the mark on my chest that made me stop dead. The toothbrush that I was once holding was now lying in the sink as I leaned in closer to the mirror to examine the scar. On my chest there was a long pink scar residing between my breasts. I knew for a fact that it was not there before the accident.

“Everything okay in there?” Jace called from the bathroom after possibly hearing the toothbrush hit the porcelain. I quickly discard my clothes and jump into the shower before Jace could see me or the scar. I turned on the water and let my mind go crazy. ‘Where was it from? How did I get it? It is so fucking ugly! I can not let Jace see it, what would he think?’ I push the thoughts away as I grab the towel from the side.

Jace appeared in the doorway as I stepped out of the shower with the towel already draped around my body. His moth was left open when his eyes searched my body. I tried my best to keep the mark covered with the towel. My cheeks began to flush and I was suddenly aware that I was naked underneath the towel. “You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N.” He declared as he decreased the gap between us both.

Jace’s hands rested on my hips while his eyes locked onto mine to ensure that his actions were okay. They were. His head began to drop closer to mine and once again that morning, our noses were touching.

My head jerked back when there was a knock on the door. Alec stood in the doorway holding his seraph blade in one hand and his bow over his shoulder. “Are you coming or what Peanut?” He shouted into my room.

I wave to him and tell him that I just need to change and I will be right out. I know he saw what was happening or what was about to happen and I could not be 100% sure, but I think that he had a slight glint of a smile creeping on his lips.

I turn back to Jace to see that he is disappointed. “When we come back can I have that kiss?” He asked me. I could not help but smile in response.

***

Training was my favourite part of the day. The only problem was how competitive everyone got. Jace was the worst. But today it felt as though he was going a little too easy on me and I was unsure as to why.

I pulled him aside after the third spar that we had where he clearly let me win too easily. “Jace what is going on?”

“What do you mean what is going on?” Jace was a terrible liar and he knew that I knew it. “Fine, it is quite embarrassing okay.” I raise an eyebrow as he continues to talk his way out of this one. “I keep thinking back to this morning and I, well it is quite uncomfortable to fight you when I am having to fight something else forming downstairs.”

My eyes gaze down his body and I finally twig at what he was trying to decipher to me without everyone else in the room hearing about his dilemma. “It doesn’t help that you are wearing an extremely short pair of shorts that is making your arse look desirable?”

I laugh a little at seeing him at his weakest during training. “It isn’t funny okay?”

I stop laughing when I saw that Alec had caught us no longer completing our training during our allotted time in the combat room. “Come on Alec will get annoyed if we don’t try and use this time wisely.”

Jace picked up his blade and held it out to you. “Go easy on me, would you?”

***

“Well you didn’t exactly go easy on me, did you?” Jace whined as he pulled his sweaty shirt off and threw it into his hamper. “If I knew any better, I would think that you knew exactly how to manipulate the situation.” He kept his back to me as he through on another clean shirt from his drawer. It was my favourite light blue shirt that he only ever wore around me when we first got together.

“Consider yourself lucky.” I protest as I discard my boots in the corner of his room. “At least I let you win once. That was generous of me.” I scrunch up my nose, the way I know he likes. Apparently, it makes me look all cute and innocent. When we first met, Jace told me that when I smile, I scrunch up my nose. He found it adorable and I caught his attention from an early age.

I felt the light touch of his hands slide around my stomach and laid delicately on top of my skin. His head rested on my shoulder. “I love you, Y/N.” He whispered into my ear. I do not think that I will ever get used to hearing him say those words to me. I turned around in his arms and hooked my own around his neck. Just like that morning, his head started to close the distance between our faces.

The feeling I got when his lips touched mine was almost as if someone had put the whole world on pause. We were the only two people in the entire universe within that moment. Do not get me wrong, Jace and I have kissed before. But this time it felt different. When our lips met I felt as though my heart was finally whole again. My whole body ached to be close to him.

It was not long before the kisses became more heated. I felt Jace’s hands become firmer on my hips as if he were holding me desperately close to him. Did he feel the exact same need that I did? I folded up in his arms and allowed him to direct me over to the bed where he gently laid me down onto the mattress without breaking the kiss once.

Between every other breathless kiss, he broke away to moan the words ‘I love you’ repeatedly as if he were trying to convince himself that this was happening. His hand locked onto the side of my face where he began to caress my cheek and his lips connected and disconnected with my own. While his other hand held onto both of my own above my head.

Jace’s kisses were smooth and tender and they were the one thing that I wanted more than anything in this entire world. His lips started to relocate down my chin and onto my neck. His sweet lips sucked at the skin just below my jaw which made my breath get caught in my throat. My heart was beating rapidly as I could not believe that Jace and I were finally in a place where this was possible.

It was not until his lips reached my chest where I started to panic. My mind flashed back to the discovery that I made that morning before the shower. My head started pounding as my heart rate started to beat faster than I thought was possible.

“Stop!” I cried as I attempted to push Jace off me. I clutched my shirt together and brought my knees up to my chest. My breathing was rapid and the world started to blur again.

Jace rushed over to my side and held onto my arms. “Breathe Y/N. Slowly, come on you can do it, copy me okay?” I watched as he tried to guide me through each breath. “Good, now slowly drop your legs for me. It will make it easier.” I did as he said and continued to mimic the breathing techniques that he was demonstrating to me.

After 5 minutes I managed to get my breathing back down and my heartbeat back to a regular rhythm. Jace was sat down beside me holding onto my right hand. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asked calmly.  

At first, I thought about lying to him, hiding the truth from him. But I could not do it. “I have a scar.” I manage to squeak. It sounds stupid but it really was hard for me to say. “I have a scar on my chest and I didn’t want you to see it because you might think that I am ugly.”

Jace squeezed onto my hand and pulled me into his chest to comfort me. “Don’t be silly. I think that you are beautiful and nothing is going to change that.” He moved from my side to kneel on the floor between my knees. “Will you show me?”

He raised his hands up to where I was holding my hand over the exposed area. Slowly and gently he guided my hand away from my chest. When he saw the scar, his expression did not change. Almost as if he had seen it before. His thumb stroked over the scarred tissue of skin. Tracing the line from the beginning to the end. “See it is disgusting.” I whimpered at his touch.

He slowly shook his head and placed his hand over the top of it. “No, this is a constant reminder that I can never hurt you ever again. Your heart is now protected.”

I let him hold me tight as I cried. “My heart is yours.” I sobbed into his arms.

“And so is mine.” He placed a kiss on my forehead. I never really knew how true that was until I saw that Jace had the same scar on his chest. When Jace told Magnus that he would do anything, he really did mean it. I owned half of his heart. “I told you Y/N, you are my person.” His lips connected sweetly with my forehead as he held me closer to him.

[ask-the-riders]

Liar, Liar

Another flashback sorta thing that I decided to write as a way to explore some different relationship dynamics :P

There's some recently introduced characters (Cobalt and Diamondback), one you already know and love (Othni), and an older one that I decided to revive (Valence), because why not

I'm gonna include some trigger warnings for a little blood, super light gore (if you wanna even call it that), some violence, and implied past abuse

"Does she know, Val?"

Valence ran a hand over his skull and let out a deep sigh, his magenta swirled eye lights constricted in fear as he paced around his living room. Avoiding looking at his companion as much as possible, he sputtered, "I-I don't think so. I wasn't being careless again, I swear!" Leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, the demon arched a single brow, "For our sake, I hope you're telling the truth." He paused, vanishing into thin air and making the skeleton yelp and nearly stumble backwards as he reappeared, blocking his path. Backing Valence into a corner and making sure all possible escape routes were blocked, the demon leaned closer, his vibrant blue eyes becoming brighter as he lowered his voice, "For your sake, I hope you're telling me the truth. If you're lying to me again, I'll find out." 

The skeleton stared at him with wide, fearful eyes, his breathing momentarily coming to a halt. Remembering the last time the demon had caught him telling a lie, he nodded, hoping to convey that he understood. Feeling satisfied, the demon hummed, taking a step back as he continued watching his host. It was a while ago that the two of them had made that contract, and while they did occasionally bicker, they were normally on the same wavelength with one another. Val's gaze flickered back toward his kitchen, and as he lowered it to the tile floor, he took in the red liquid that had begun pooling in the spaces between the individual tiles. Part of an arm laid on the floor in the middle of the puddle, and a shape resembling a handprint stained his shirt, the bright crimson a stark contrast against the cream colored fabric. He had another mess to clean up now, and this time, he hadn't even been the one that'd made it.

Turning his back to the demon, he let out a deep breath and slipped into the kitchen, squatting in front of the sink and opening a set of wooden drawers, digging through various cleaning supplies. His companion quietly followed him, completely uncaring as he stepped in the pool of blood and crossed the kitchen, leaving behind a short trail of footprints. Seeing that Othni was, once again, trying to aggravate him, Val frowned, his brow bones becoming knit, "Do you mind? I'm trying to clean here." The demon stole a glance in his direction, a wide, almost manic smile slowly stretching across his face and putting his unnaturally sharp teeth on display, "Oh, I'm not in your way, am I? How rude of me." 

Val let out a soft, irritated growl in response, and Othni snorted in amusement, shaking his head. As Val returned to trying to ignore him, he dragged his clawed fingers over the surface of the kitchen table, leaving deep scratches in the wood. Hearing the sound, the skeleton finally shifted his attention back to Othni, immediately scowling as he took notice of the damage that was being done to his table. Careful not to step in the blood, he gave Othni a light shove and hissed, "Stop it, Othni. Can't you see that this is pointless? We made that deal in order to help each other, and you decide to damage my belongings because I'm not paying attention to you?" Othni arched an eyebrow again, quietly daring the skeleton to keep talking. With his mind clouded by anger and frustration, Val did just that, practically sneering at Othni, "You're no better than a spoiled child, I swear." 

An image flickered in Othni's mind of a middle aged human with dark, curly locks, scowling at him and shouting words that he couldn't quite make out. As the human lifted a hand and prepared to strike him, Othni's locks of hair that resembled the rounded ears of a big cat laid back flat against his head and he was on Val in an instant, one hand immediately seeking out his neck vertebrae. Feeling himself be lifted up off of the ground and slammed into a wall hard enough to cause a small crack to form in the back of his head, Valence let out a pained and startled yelp, instinctively trying to free himself from Othni's grip. The demon's eyes burned into him as he moved closer, only inches away from Val's face as he growled lowly, "Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, monster. If you even so much as think about speaking to me like that again, I'll-"

He was cut off as someone knocked on his front door and called out, "Hey Bandersnatch, are you in there?" Almost as quickly as he'd lifted Val up off of the floor, the demon set him down again and released his neck. His expression had completely shifted, no longer holding even a trace of anger, and he offered another sharp toothed grin to Val, tilting his head and murmuring, "Answer it, Valence. Go see what he wants." The skeleton hesitated, and then upon seeing that Othni had become docile again, he darted to a coat rack, nearly tearing a jacket off of it's peg and tugging it on, zipping it up just enough to hide the handprint that stained his shirt. The demon continued watching him, slinking back into the shadows as Valence made a beeline for the front door and answered it.

Making a face at the other male skeleton that stared back at him, he cleared his throat, "Oh. Hello there, Cobalt. How can I help you?" The skeleton in question eyed him for a moment, "Where were you a couple nights ago, at about this time?" Val blinked in confusion, "...I was here, preparing a dish for Banquet. Why do you care about my whereabouts all of a sudden?" Cobalt's gaze hardened and he stuffed a hand into one of his pockets, "No, you weren't. Try again." Val stared at him, clearly at a loss, "Would you just speak plainly, please? I have a lot on my mind and the last thing I want to do is play this stupid guessing game with you." The shorter of the two continued to watch him, his expression turning suspicious, "Fine. According to Glo, she bumped into you at the store. Said you had a big bag of cat food in your arms, which is odd, even for you. Considering that you don't have any cats, and all." 

Valence was frozen for a moment, having been caught off guard. Processing what the other had just said, he regarded him with clear disbelief, "So you think I'm lying about where I was? How do you know Glo wasn't the one lying? Don't tell me that you believe every word that leaves her mouth." Cobalt was unphased, pressing on just as confidently as before, "I take everything she says with a grain of salt. When she does lie, it's usually in a joking manner over something small and unimportant. Seeing you at the store would be a little too random for her to lie about, I think. You, however..." The guard paused, leaning a bit closer and inhaling deeply, "You could lie through your teeth, right here and now, simply for the hell of it. And then there's that disgusting stench you bring everywhere with you." 

The taller skeleton furrowed his brow bones, "Since you're so keen on sniffing me like some kind of dog, tell me, Cobalt. What stench do I have, hm? These clothes just came out of the dryer, and I took a shower as soon as I got home a little while ago." Cobalt frowned, narrowing his sockets at the other monster, "You reek of death... To be a little more specific, in case you don't understand that, there's always the faint scent of human blood wafting off of you. Sometimes when you start acting even weirder than normal, there's this gross, rotten fruit kind of smell there, too. Care to explain why you smell like blood?" Valence raised a single brow bone, "I stopped by that new meat place in town and picked up some beef. The butcher was a human, so maybe he cut himself or something while he was working." The guard scowled at him, his tone gaining a much sharper edge than before, "Wrong again. That's a monster shop, run only by monsters, not by humans. And also, cow blood is completely different from human blood. I've smelled both before, and they're really easy to tell apart." 

Valence unconsciously took a step back, his gaze darkening as he smirked, his own tone becoming malicious, "Because you've killed countless humans in the war, I know. Did you keep track of how many potentially innocent lives you took, or were you running solely off of mindless bloodlust?" Cobalt was momentarily taken aback, glancing away from Val, "...If it was up to me, I wouldn't have killed any of them. That's not the kind of guy I am." Valence shook his head, choosing to mock the soldier, "Oh, I know. The big bad, evil princess of darkness made you do it, didn't she? How truly awful of her. Does Chimera know what you've done?" Upon hearing his friend's name, Cobalt squared his shoulders and made a sound in confirmation, "Yeah, she knows. I make it a point not to keep secrets from her." 

The taller skeleton reached out, his grin condescending as he patted Cobalt's head and cooed, "Awe, how thoughtful of you. I'm glad you're so open with her!" Cobalt growled and slapped his hand away, glaring up at him. As the scent of rotting fruit began to waft out of the house, he hissed, "Listen, Val. You might've gone on a few dates with her, and yeah, she likes you, but I want you to stay away from her. I want you to stay away, and I want you gone." Valence smirked again, "And what'll you do if I stay? Are you going to run that blade of yours through my body and kill me like you did to those humans?" Cobalt faltered, and when words failed him, he summoned his sword and drew it, trying to maintain at least the appearance of being confident, "If that's what it takes to keep you away from Chimera, then yeah, I will. Something about you is off, and every time you're around, all the red flags immediately go up. I don't trust you, not even a little bit. I wouldn't trust you to take care of another person, let alone Chimera. She deserves so much better than lying, manipulative, scheming bastards like you." 

Another unseen person made a sound in agreement, "For once, I believe you're right. She does deserve better." Val jerked in surprise, momentarily freezing as a set of glowing green eyes peered at him from the shadows under a tree that sat in his yard. As the demon in the shadows presented himself, he crossed his arms over his chest, calmly approaching the two skeletons. As he drew nearer and nearer, Cobalt made a face, noticing the way the scent of rotting fruit began to rapidly fade away. Recognizing the demon almost immediately, Val scoffed, "Oh, please. The social reject is trying to tell me to stay away from Chimera now, too? Listen, buddy. This has nothing to do with you. It'd be in your best interest if you minded your own business." Diamondback tilted his head, "On the contrary, this has everything to do with me. You can either be a good little brat and get lost, or I'll have to teach you how to listen better. Which will it be?" Valence let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eye lights, "I'm not going anywhere, ok Gramps? This is my house, and this is where I live. Nothing is gonna change that. Not when I've already settled in so well." Without warning, Diamondback warped through the space between them, backing Val further into his house.

As Val tried to slam his front door shut, one of the demon's hands caught it and he hummed, "Please don't make this difficult. I'm really not in the mood to be doing this right now." Struggling with the door and quickly noticing how much stronger the demon was than him, Valence panicked and snapped, "Then why bother?! Just go home already!" Diamondback's body warped beneath the door easily in the form of a shadow, and before Val had any time to process what was happening, a hand gripped the front of his shirt, forcibly dragging him closer. Making sure to expose his fangs as he spoke, Diamondback hissed, "I don't appreciate you taking that tone with me, Valence. Bark one more order at me, and I'll be taking your jaw. Now, you already heard me when I told you to leave, correct?" 

The skeleton nodded, and Diamondback continued, "Good. I have another thing I'd like you to do for me, if you'd be so kind." Val nodded his head, his voice much softer than he would've liked, "Y-Yeah, sure. What is it?" Diamondback's bored, slightly annoyed expression shifted, a knowing look in his eyes as he offered Val a small smirk, flashing his fangs at him again, "Tell Othni that he's not very good at hiding. Even if I can't see him, I can smell him, and he smells like shit."

[darkblueboxs]

Bond, Break and Breath

Demon Jean/Kevin AU

Read here or on AO3 The Raven Prince, barely older than Jean is but with a confident set to his shoulders that speaks to something far older, looks him up and down with the unhurried confidence of someone who is used to schedules bending to his whims. His lips curl upwards, exposing his teeth, but Jean would not describe the expression as a smile. It’s too hungry by far.

“This one. I’ll take him,” says Riko Moriyama, and Jean’s fate is sealed.

There’s a strained sob from behind Jean that sounds like his mother as hands clamp down on him, pulling him from the line of offered children and towards the inner palace. He tries to wrench his head back for one last look at his mother and father, the sister who will be too young to really remember him, but the hands are all but choking him as his head is forced to bend lest his neck break under the pressure. He can see Riko’s boots as he strides ahead of them, expensive leather striking a rigid rhythm into the flagstones. There’s a matching pair which follows a measured beat behind, but it isn’t until they reach the inner sanctum that Jean can get a proper look at Riko’s adopted brother. He has the build of a fighter but none of the vitality; his eyes sit too deep in his face, darkly ringed as though sunlight is a mere memory to them. His eyes are hungry too, but it’s a curious kind of hunger, more like Jean is a book he wants to pour over, proof of a world beyond the palace walls. Jean doesn’t have time to study him further, not when he’s being dragged to the dais in the centre of the room by hands that clamp around his wrists like cuffs.

The sanctum is walled by ruby tiles that scatter the light from the oil lamps across its inhabitants in crimson pinpricks. Jean doesn’t bother to struggle as they lash him to the glistening block at its centre, but his captors grant him no lenience in return, their hands biting bruises into him as they tie him firmly enough that Jean’s fingertips begin to tingle from lack of circulation.

“Such a shame to ruin a pretty face.” The prince’s face eclipses his vision suddenly, the ruby light haloing his dark hair. “Don’t you think, Kevin?”

A non-committal sound comes from beyond Jean’s field of vision. The doors open and suddenly the chamber is filled with the molten burn of liquid metal. Jean twitches. Riko’s eyes track the movement with bright fascination.

“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about the bonding,” Riko addresses him for the first time. Jean tries to nod, but the ties holding his head in place are too tight.

“Would you like to hear a secret?” Riko bends over him, lips at Jean’s ear. “It hurts even worse than they say.”

Any hope that Jean still held for his miserable future flickers and dies as he looks into Riko’s eyes and sees the delight dancing within. Riko keeps his eyes on Jean while the priest stands over him, mumbling in a language Jean doesn’t recognise. He keeps his eyes on Jean when they take out the knives and begin to carve matching sigils into his face and bared chest, and he keeps his eyes on Jean as the ruts in his skin are filled with molten gold that scorches him as it cools.

Then a golden chalice is held to his lips, and Jean doesn’t need to smell the hot stench to know what it holds. With merciless hands pinching his nose shut, Jean has no choice but to open his mouth and accept Riko’s blood as it fills his mouth and coats his insides black.

He’s pulled back from choking on blood and spit by the hand that presses suddenly into his chest. It isn’t the pressure so much as it is the response from his body, something in his ribcage rising to the point of contact. Riko’s hand is ice-cold against his feverish skin, the rings that adorn each finger biting into his chest.

“Jean Moreau. Do you give your body and soul that you may serve your Prince?”

Jean thinks of his family left in the courtyard, who will not be let free until the bonding is complete. “I do,” he says, his voice thickened beyond recognition.

“Riko Moriyama. Do you accept this soul to take as your own?”

“I do.”

The shifting thing in Jean’s ribcage rises like smoke, and oh¸ he had been naïve to believe he knew what pain was before this moment. His soul ripples and shifts as it wrenches itself from Jean’s chest and flows like meltwater to Riko’s waiting hands, and Jean screams and screams and screams, no, no, give it back, I need it, I need it-

And then his voice is abruptly cut out, his body silenced as bones and muscles crack and shift, adjusting and rearranging around the missing pieces. His teeth are suddenly too big for his mouth, his fingernails curling into something longer, sharper, and white-hot pinpricks of pain blossom and burst through his scalp in the shape of-

The last thing Jean sees is the hungry flash of Riko’s teeth.

*

The demon formerly known as Jean Moreau spends a day recovering in a sparse chamber before his newly-settled body is dragged out into the courtyard to begin training. He can feel Riko waiting for him before he sees him, a sense of the boy carrying his soul pulsing at the base of his skull like a heartbeat. The brother is there too, and he does nothing to hide the shock from his expression when he sees the changes that have come over Jean since the previous night’s ceremony.

Riko laughs. “That’s right! You’ve never seen one up close before, have you?” He summons Jean with a crook of his finger, and Jean’s legs jerk clumsily in his direction before his mind has a chance to catch up with them. Riko catches him by one of the freshly-grown horns protruding from his head and drags him down for Kevin’s inspection. “I did say it would be a shame to ruin that face.”

Jean hisses at Riko’s grip on his horn, still tender and new. There was no mirror in his chamber, and Jean would have lacked the energy to get up and inspect himself even if there had been one. He has seen the rivulets of gold branded into his chest, the sharp points at the ends of his hands where nails turned to claws, can feel the awkward new shape of the elongated canines that catch at his bottom lip. He isn’t sure he needs to see any more.

Kevin stares, transfixed, and for a moment Jean catches sight of his reflection in Kevin’s eyes. His eyes are a solid black, the bonding sigil shining painfully bright on his cheek.

Almost unthinkingly, Kevin reaches out to him. Before Jean can think to flinch away, Riko is yanking him back by the horn.

“Ah, ah. No touching my things, Kevin.” His tone is playful, but Jean can feel the surge of anger beneath. “We’ll get you your own soon enough, won’t we?” He turns to Jean. “Maybe a matching pair. How old was that girl he came here with?”

Jean’s fist is an inch from Riko’s face when the pain hits. He falls to his knees, choking on air as Riko stands over him, smirking like Jean just passed some sort of test, which he probably did. The bonding is like an iron cuff around Jean’s throat, choking him out until the impulse to harm his Prince subsides.

Training is simple. Riko is a boy with many enemies, and it is Jean’s duty to tear them down before they can lay a finger on him. He may be young and inexperienced in combat, but the changes that have taken over him still give him advantage over the grown men tasked with beating him into shape. His reflexes are faster, his sight and hearing sharper, his already considerable strength almost doubled, his stamina virtually endless. For most of the morning any wounds he takes stitch themselves back together before he has a chance to examine them: it’s only as the day wears on that the cuts and bruises start to linger. He glances to where Riko and Kevin are watching from the shade of the trees, but no reprieve comes. Riko waves his men on with a flick of his wrist, and they continue until Jean’s legs will no longer support him.

When the fighting is over, Riko pokes at Jean’s wounds with interest. Kevin keeps his eyes fixed on the blood-flecked cobblestones, and Jean can hardly blame him.

“He does have limits,” Riko says. “Interesting.”

Kevin doesn’t say anything, but Jean doesn’t miss the way his fingers twitch.

When Jean wakes the next morning, there’s a pot of salve on his bedside table. It smells like the lavender fields of home, the sense memory so strong that Jean’s eyes sting. He tests it out, unsure if he’s about to become the victim of another of Riko’s “tests”, but finds the cream soothes yesterday’s aches as it sinks into his skin like butter.

Down in the courtyard, it’s no longer the pulse of his soulholder that calls to him, but someone else instead.

*

Ten years do nothing to soften Riko’s edges. As he grows, so do his enemies, and time after time Jean steps in, biting and tearing and cutting until there is nothing left of the foolish assailants. He grows accustomed to being the shadow at Riko’s shoulder, to the terrified looks ordinary people shoot him as he passes, to the hollow in his chest where his soul once lived.

“Why do you hate me?” Kevin murmurs as he sews one of Jean’s unhealed wounds back together. Riko had been experimenting with silver knives lately, fascinated by how Jean’s healing abilities were seemingly defeated by the precious metal. It’s the dead of night, and while Jean’s eyes no longer struggle to penetrate the darkness he has no idea how Kevin is able to sew him up with so little difficulty.

“Did I say I hated you?”

“It’s obvious.” There’s a click as Kevin bites through the thread and begins to tie it off with blood-slick fingers. It’s the kind of wound that would have brought Jean to tears during his early days in the palace walls. Now, his voice barely wavers as Kevin pulls him back together.

“I hate that you’re here when you don’t have to be.”

Kevin’s fingers stall. “Riko is asleep. He never has to know.”

“I don’t mean this,” Jean replies scornfully. He turns and plucks the thread from Kevin’s loose hands. “I mean here with him. You have no bond. You have a working body, a soul of your own, a family beyond the palace walls who would welcome you with open arms. You could be free, but you choose to fester in the shadows with us. You choose him.”

Kevin reaches as if to take the thread back, but his hands halt inches away, hovering in the space between them. “You want me to leave?”

“More than anything,” Jean bites. He thanks a God he never believed in that Kevin can’t see in the dark. He doesn’t know what his face is doing, but he knows it’s revealing something Jean has been keeping hidden for years alongside the pots of salve and sewing things under his mattress.

Kevin’s response, when it comes, is quiet, strained. “Who would sew you back together?”

Jean has no answer to give.

*

“Hold him, Jean. Hold him!”

The order courses through Jean’s arms like blood, tightening his grip on Kevin’s thrashing arms. Kevin stares up at him with watery, pleading eyes. As though Jean has any choice in the matter. After all this time there’s still a part of Kevin that doesn’t quite understand.

Jean pins Kevin’s hand in place, and Riko strikes.

*

“Jean? What the hell are you doing here?!”

Jean had grown used to living with one hole in his chest. Two is unbearable, and he only understands how unbearable it was when Kevin’s voice settles back into place within him.

“Kevin,” Jean says. He doesn’t have the strength for much else, every inch of his body at war with itself. Riko’s orders burn like wildfire through every cell in his body, but some impossible gem of resistance at his core holds out. “Kevin, I’m sorry.”

“Jean-?!” Kevin’s voice is cut off as Jean strikes, a harsh strike to the sternum that has Kevin bending over double. Jean catches his arms before he can react, forcing them behind his back until the choice is between breaking an arm or submitting. He can feel the ridges of Kevin’s scars under his grip as he forces him to the ground, much improved after his months away but still there.

“He ordered me to bring you back,” Jean grits out through his teeth. “I can’t…. I can’t stop.”

He feels Kevin’s body go lax beneath him. Kevin’s voice comes out hollow, and if Jean still had a soul it would be torn in half by the surrender in his words. “I understand.”

Jean turns Kevin over slowly, allowing himself to meet Kevin’s gaze at last. His new life is treating him well, his skin having lost the unnatural ashy tint of the palace, his cheeks filled out and sun-bitten. Jean soaks it in, trying to memorise the image before he tears Kevin away from it forever. Kevin’s eyes flicker to Jean’s sigil, then down to his lips, and he looks like he’s about to say something when he catches sight of something over Jean’s shoulder. His eyes widen.

“Look out!”

Something hits the back of Jean’s head, hard. If he were human, it would have shattered his skull. He rolls to the side before springing back to his feet, placing himself between Kevin and the attacker. His breath catches in his throat as he catches sight of the other assailant: he has never met another demon before. He’s shorter than Jean, but more muscular by far, his all-black eyes contrasting sharply with his blonde hair. The sigil on his cheek is a deep amber and silver knives flash in the palms of his hands.

“You touched something that isn’t yours,” he says lowly.

“Isn’t-” Jean starts, stops, and all the air leaves his body in a sudden, sharp shock. He turns to Kevin, denial giving way to deep, burning anger as he sees Kevin’s panic.

“Jean. It isn’t what it looks like,” Kevin begins frantically.

Jean clenches his teeth, turns, and swings for Kevin’s demon’s face. The punch doesn’t even connect, nor did Jean expect it to. Regardless, his bond urges him on, swinging blow after blow which the demon dodges with ease, his bored expression never cracking. Eventually, he grows tired of Jean’s efforts catching him by the neck and throwing him to the ground.

“Andrew,” says Kevin as the demon steps forwards. “Please, don’t.”

“What did I tell you about that word?”

Kevin’s mouth snaps shut, his lips pressing into a tense line. The demon – Andrew – turns back to Jean, eyes narrowed. “If we let him go, he’ll keep coming back. His bond won’t allow him to give up.”

“Don’t kill him. Andrew, I know him, he’s not like Riko, he doesn’t…”

Andrew sighs. “You are a pain, Kevin Day.”

Jean doesn’t feel the hit: one moment Andrew is standing over him, and the next, everything has gone black.

*

Jean feels Riko’s death pulse through him like a hot iron poker pressed through his chest. He screams, clawing at his chest as he rolls from his bunk in the cell he has spent the last – days, weeks, months? – trapped in, and by the time he hits the floor Riko is gone.

But Jean, somehow, doesn’t follow. A hundred miles away, he feels his soul flicker, seep into the air and begin curling its way into the beyond- and then something catches it.

Something warm. Something safe.

For the first time in over a decade, Jean can breathe again.

*

The Kevin that unlocks his door at last has a deep gash where his tattoo used to be. He stands taller than Jean has ever seen him, but it’s on the inside that the real change has taken place. His heartbeat pulses in the back of Jean’s mind as the heat of a fresh bond hums between them.

“It can’t be possible,” Jean says. “Andrew-”

“Andrew is a freed demon. He was never bonded to me,” Kevin says in a rush, like the words have been weighing on him ever since their initial reunion. “I wanted to explain, but he wouldn’t let me come near you in case you tried to take me away again.”

Jean swallows. “He was right. I would have dragged you away kicking and screaming the first chance I had.” He reaches out to Kevin, pressing fingers to his chest to feel the flutter of his own soul resting beneath the skin. “How…?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin says, swallowing. “I saw your soul leave him, and I thought it would just evaporate, but then it kind of…” He gestures wordlessly to his chest. “Settled. What does it mean?”

Jean thinks he knows, but there’s only one way to be sure. He surges forward, and Kevin doesn’t flinch, doesn’t blink, maybe the only person who has never looked at Jean with an inkling of fear, and when their lips meet it’s like two halves of a whole coming together.

Kevin gasps into his mouth as though Jean is a breath of air after years drowning at sea, and gasps again as Jean’s claws rake lightly across his scalp. They’re pressed together so tightly they no longer feel like two different beings, and for a moment Jean wonders if this is part of the bond or if this is just them, because he feels like he’s holding Kevin’s soul in his chest as much as Kevin is holding his.

“Oh,” Kevin says against his lips. “That’s why.”

And then he kisses him again, and again, and again.

*

They break the bond on a bright day that is full of birdsong and sunlight. The agony of a world-worn soul settling back into his chest is an acute one, but Jean survives it with Kevin’s arms tight around him. Jean’s chest heaves with his first breath as a freed demon, and it’s Kevin’s green eyes that welcome him back to the world. *