#stolen au: deep dark hills

[slvt4felix]

♡ I See the Light ♡

Pairing -> lostprince!felix x thief!reader WC -> ~6,700 words Includes -> tangled!au, violence? (frying pan incident), reader is a criminal, fem!reader, lowkey abusive and manipulative "mother", kidnapping, magic, Bbokari as Pascal Summary -> After stealing a particularly precious item from the King and Queen, the royal guards push you deep into the woods during an exhilarating chase. You stumble across an interesting tower and start to climb, unaware of what you will come across once you reach the inside. Or rather, who you will come across and how this unique person will completely change the trajectory of your life. Author's Note -> I am like the biggest fan of Tangled. It's my all time favorite Disney movie. And when I think of Felix the first thing that comes to mind is sunshine and I feel like he is so Rapunzel coded. So yeah... don't mind that this fic is literally just all my favorite things combined. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also this was only supposed to be one part, but I'm slowly starting to realize I'm really bad at writing short stories... so this story will definitely be multiple parts!

Masterlist ♡ Next Part

You pant, desperately trying to catch your breath as your legs move faster than they ever have before. They are starting to ache, along with your feet, your lungs, and just about everywhere else. But you can't stop, not right now. Not with the heavy footsteps just a few feet behind you and horses loud in the distance.

You stole something. Well, technically you have stolen many things, but what can you say? You were an orphan and never given the chance to make money more nobly. And this time, the object was just something you couldn't pass up.

You keep running, eyes trained directly in front of you. You desperately want to look behind you to see how much time you have, see just how much danger you're in, but the adrenaline and fear have you locked in. You won't stop, won't glance back at the angry guards until you manage to get some headway.

Your boot-clad feet heavily trample the ground underneath you, damaging the delicate blades of grass and petals of flowers that seem to multiply by the second. If only you were able to look down, you would notice the nature changing subtly underneath you. The rocky area you were previously in changed into a thick forest, covered in clover and wildflower.

If you weren't in this situation, perhaps you would've taken the moment to admire it. To take in your surroundings, breathing in the beauty of nature. But again, now's not the time. Maybe one day you will have the ability to stop and smell the flowers, but today there are more important matters at hand.

You hear a twig snap behind you and an unsettling crash. You instantly realize it to be a branch in the path that you had just jumped over. Luckily enough, after years of training, running, and stealing you can navigate your way through many terrains if needed. However, it seems like the guards behind you weren't so lucky. You swiftly turn your head and find exactly what you expect. The two burly men who had been hot on your trail now lay on a pile on the grass as the distance grows between you and them. You chuckle a bit to yourself upon realizing they must have dropped like dominos, one tripping with the other landing right on top. At this point, you were thankful for anything that could make you laugh.

Looking back ahead of you, you zone back into your mission. Your body aching to take a breather. You take a sharp turn, long used to getting out of these situations. This route change leads you down a steep hill. You almost tumble all the way down, but thankfully your dark brown boots have enough traction on them to help you safely make your way down. You jump off the last little way because what's escaping without a little extra adventure.

Now being back on the soft flat grass, you take in your surroundings, analyzing to try to make the best choice. The guys weren't likely to stay down for too long, so you have to make a decision and fast. You don't have time to try to get ahead, they would catch up in no time.

You realize you have been running for a while to try to escape the men. You weren't keeping track, but this is about as far as you have ever made it outside the kingdom. Everything looks untouched, giving off the vibes that maybe you shouldn't be here. It's ethereal looking, yet a bit unsettling at how everything seems to be in perfect harmony. The branches on the trees sway harshly in the wind and feels as if you were the one to disturb the peace, your presence entirely unwelcome.

You shake off the thoughts and roll your shoulders a bit. This was not the time for superstitions or paranoia.

'Maybe if those stupid guards hadn't chased me for so long,' you think bitterly. But in reality, you know you can't hold it against them. It's just their job, just like this is yours. It's just the way it is.

Typically you would have everything completely planned out. Especially the escape route. But, there was really no way to prepare for this. You usually don't get caught soon enough to actually get chased.

Panic floods your body as you begin to hear angry voices again. You're running out of time. The goal today was not to go to prison. You sigh angrily realizing there really isn't any simple escape route this time around. Before your brain even processes it, your feet are moving on their own accord, simply in fight or flight mode. But, today seems to be your lucky day and nature seems to be on your side.

You glance behind you after a few steps noticing that the men still hadn't caught up enough for you to be in their vision. In this slight hesitation, your foot catches on a branch growing from the ground likely belonging to one of the beautiful weeping willow trees surrounding you. It appears that the trees have inhabited this place for ages, their roots buried deep into the group and long wispy branches that hide practically everything behind them.

You stumble forward, your arms unable to find anything to grasp. You land harshly on your knees, making you hiss out in pain. You were definitely going to be covered in grass stains after this.

You quickly gather yourself, standing to your feet taking in your new surroundings. You falter a bit, unsteady due to the weight of your backpack making you a bit unbalanced. You must have fallen through into a small cave. The willow's long branches came down to hang in the entrance, blocking anyone from seeing the small hideaway. You're surrounded by rough, cool stone. There's a noticeable temperature difference that provides relief to your damp skin. The sun was beating on you aggressively the whole run, but hey at least it was bright enough out to see in front of you. It was the only reason you were brave enough to do this in broad daylight. Although it was easier to slip away in the dark, sometimes the paths of the kingdom and the forest surrounding can get pretty difficult to navigate after dark.

You hear heavy footsteps coming from the area you had just narrowly managed to escape. They sound pretty scattered, your mind providing you with the image of multiple royal guards rushing into the serene environment. You almost giggle at the thought of them all dressed head to toe in golden armor. A large sun engrained in their chest plate.

You peek slightly through the covering, seeing exactly what you had imagined. They are searching the area hastily in hopes of finding any clues as to which way you went. They look like children playing dress up, some of their spartan-like helmets falling over their eyes when they turn their heads obviously not fitting them properly.

One stalks past the opening, startling you backward. You hold your breath in fear. They may look silly, but that doesn't diminish the fact that they could positively ruin your life if they manage to capture you. You make your way farther into the cave, expecting to run into a rock wall blocking you in. You had planned to just hide it out in here until it was safe to leave, but soon you realize there may be another way to go about it. It seems to not really be a cave like you had initially thought. Rather, it appeared to be a tunnel of some sort. As you continue to walk the light grows dim. Before you know it, you can no longer see more than 2 steps in front of you. You put your arms out trying to feel in front of you. It would suck to run face-first into solid rock.

You bite your lip gently, starting to grow a little nervous at the lack of light and ability to see what's ahead. But you just have to deal with it at this point, anything to put more distance between you and the angry guards.

Soon you spy a light at the end of the tunnel, opposite from where you entered. You no longer hear any yelling or stomping and it gives you hope that maybe on the other side, there would be no one searching for you. They surely would have made it there by now if they could find it, right?

You emerge from the tunnel, eyes squinting as the sun's bright rays abuse your eyes again. When you finally adjust to the new lighting, you look around in amazement. You were somehow in a completely new area, large mountains and hills blocking the place in. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before. You had thought where you had just come from looked untouched, but this right here was actual nature at its finest.

It wouldn't be hard to believe you were the first human to step foot here in ages, the area completely overgrown with plants and animals. Yet, there was one unavoidable thing that proved that theory wrong. Standing high amid the greenery was a tall tower. It appeared nearly ancient, the stone crumbling a bit with vines wrapping their way up the walls.

It's honestly mystical with a stunning waterfall coming from one of the mountains just beyond the tower, painting the scene with a light mist. You notice that as the sun hits the vapor just right it creates little mini rainbows.

"Woah" you whisper. You aren't usually the type of person to talk to yourself, mostly preferring to keep your thoughts in your mind, but at this moment it felt perfectly justified. You spin in a circle, trying to take everything in. You had never really seen anything like this, despite the beautiful architecture the kingdom was made up of. This felt like something out of a fairy tale. Which you were so not used to. You aren't typically the main character. More likely the shady best friend or the villain who never really lives up to their name.

For a minute, you feel like someone else. Like one of the beautiful girls in the books you read who end up with the loves of their lives. Or even the protagonist in a high fantasy novel. At this point, you honestly wouldn't be that surprised if a fairy with sparkling wings flew out in front of you. It didn't even really feel like real life.

You approach the tower, eager to explore what you have found. You make sure to carefully walk across the wood that appears to have been thrown over the stream haphazardly in an attempt at a bridge. It doesn't exactly look stable and you weren't looking to get wet. But it was the only way across and you just had to get a closer look.

Surprisingly, you make it across with no damage and you sigh in relief. The material of your outfit does not feel nice wet. You had learned that the hard way last time you had stolen something.

You scan the perimeter of the tower, shocked at the realization that there is no door. You double-check, a little put-off at the idea, and again find no door. Not even an opening or one that had been covered by the overgrown bushes and flowers that had taken over the landscape.

'Who makes a tower with no entrance?' you question, your stomach turning slightly beginning to get an eerie feeling. It was just a little… odd. But who were you to say how something should be built? You aren't exactly an architect. And maybe things were just built differently back then.

You knew it was ridiculous to try and justify something as weird as this, but you couldn't help your brain trying to connect the dots. But it just doesn't make sense. You take a few steps back, trying to figure out how to approach the situation. The lack of an entrance is disheartening as you were beginning to think maybe you could've stayed here for a while. There was no way you could go back to the villages of the kingdom right now. They would definitely be searching for you. And if you could find an easy way into this place, it would be a nice spot to hide out until everything cools down.

You spot windows near the top of the tower and suddenly you realize, the window directly above you is wide open. That is your chance. You feel around the stone bricks that make up the base of the building hoping you can catch your fingers in the cracks. You manage to get a little bit of a grip, but not much. There's no way you could make it all the way up there by just climbing. None of the rocks jut out enough.

You gasp out, an idea rushing into your head. You reach down where a leather sheath is strapped to your thigh. You carefully grab your dagger out. it was only one, but it could definitely help. You didn't like carrying a knife on you, but it did become really useful sometimes. You didn't use it much, especially not to hurt people. It's more of a just-in-case option. You bring the metal up to your eyes admiring how the afternoon sunlight reflects off it, the handle carefully engrained with beautiful roses.

You would be lying if you said it didn't kind of make you feel like a badass.

You lodge the dagger into the cracks and use it to try and pull yourself up a bit. It was definitely helpful as you thought. You kick your feet against the stone, hoping to find a decent push-off spot. With the traction on your shoes and your leather gloves protecting your hands both providing a bit of grip, this might actually be possible. And at this point, what exactly did you have to lose? It would be such a nice shelter to rest in for the night.

You carefully, make your way up the tower, thankful for the wood that occasionally wraps the bricks giving you a place to catch your breath.

Finally, you manage to make it to the top, your chest heaving slightly and your fingers burning from the pressure. In your haste to pull yourself up the last little bit of the wall and slide through the window, you fail to notice the soft noises coming from inside. There's some shuffling, but you brush it off assuming it's some animal that had also decided to make this place its shelter.

You throw your leg through the window taking a second to sit there and catch your breath. You're straddling the bit of wood framing the window, it's delicately carved and decorated with light purple flowers on the ledge. You take a mental note of them, hoping to admire them later once you're settled.

Deeming yourself steady enough, you pull your other leg through standing up in the large room. As much as you want to take everything in, you first slip your backpack off. Nervous that things had gotten jostled on the way up. You open the buckle and slip the top open. You set the bag gently on the ground, squatting next to it as you pull out a sparkling crown.

You sigh in relief that it was still there, it hadn't fallen out. There wasn't even a singular scratch on it. The feeling of the cool metal weighing heavy in your hands punches a sigh of relief from your lungs.

"Thank God," you whisper to yourself, breaking the gentle silence of the room you entered. You had stolen the crown. It’s why the royal guards were after you. You had entered the castle through the ceiling and stolen the crown, the guards just barely noticing as you were exiting. It was the most valued object in the whole kingdom. The importance of the crown is in how it is associated with the lost prince.

It was the most well-known story in the country and maybe even the whole world. Everyone had been so ecstatic. The Queen and King were having a baby. An heir to take over the throne when they grew old and gray. But, the Queen had grown increasingly sick as the pregnancy progressed. You had been just a baby when all this was happening, but over the years you have heard of the story many times. It was hard not to. It was everywhere you went.

Thankfully, the Queen recovered. They had found a magical flower that had the power to heal her. The baby came soon after and the whole kingdom rejoiced. They had a beautiful baby boy, with golden locks and soft skin. They released a bright lantern into the indigo sky in celebration.

However, everything went wrong that night. The new parents had heard their baby cry in the early hours of the morning but when they got there he was already gone. Never to be seen again. They still hold hope that maybe one day their baby will return home. Even going as far as to hold an annual festival for him and releasing hundreds of floating lanterns into the sky on his birthday. It was honestly a gorgeous sight.

You go to put the crown back into your bag, still nervous to get scratches or fingerprints on it. It was worth a lot of money. A deal you couldn’t pass up. Just as your fingers leave the smooth metal you hear a shuffling noise coming from your side. Your head shoots up looking to discover where the noise is coming from.

You're shocked at the sight that greets you. You stand up, nearly stumbling back at the surprise. There in front of you was… another human? How in the world had he gotten up here? You didn't hear anyone else climb up after you and it's hard to believe someone could do that silently. Did that mean they had already been here when you arrived? Why were they here?

So many questions flood your head that you barely have time to react as an object comes flying toward your head. You quickly duck down, just barely missing the dark metal by an inch. You pop back up, thankfully agile from all your years as a criminal. Once you regain your footing, your eyes take in the sight of a young man standing in front of you. He has probably the lightest blonde hair you have ever seen in your life paired with deep brown eyes. The sun shines on him, making him look as if he was the sun lighting up the room. You're a little taken aback at the sight of him. Typically you are pretty good at reading people, but it seems like you aren't exactly making the best choices today. He doesn't exactly look like the type to try to hit somebody over the head with a heavy frying pan, but here he is sanding with the weapon of choice in his right hand.

He stares back at you while standing in a nervous, defensive stance. But to be fair, you would also be feeling quite uncomfortable if you had tried to take someone's head off and somehow managed to miss.

The stare lasts longer than most people would deem necessary, silence yet again filling the large stone room. Yet, neither of you break it. You're still reeling in shock from the frying pan.

Finally, you gather yourself and question him. "Did you really just try to hit me with a frying pan?" you ask in disbelief. His eyes widen when you speak. He looks more shocked than you feel, which is really saying something. He looks as if he has never interacted with another human before. For a split second, you wonder if maybe you were being too harsh on him.

But before you can get another word in a call sounds from outside.

"Felix, my love, I'm home," a woman yells in the distance. The boy's, who you now assume to be Felix, head shoots to the window in a panic. He turns to you, now looking even more anxious than before.

"You have to go, you have to go like now. She will actually hurt you. Like with more than a frying pan," he whispers as he comes much closer, his voice a surprisingly gravelly tone. You can practically feel the vibrations of it on your skin and you're stunned for a moment, frozen in place. He grabs your wrist, not unkindly, and leads you to the back wall of the room. You watch him carefully as he proceeds to open the door to an armoire, making you wonder what exactly his plan is. He gestures inside and you simply stare at him struggling to comprehend the situation.

"I'm not hiding in your closet," you spit, slightly insulted he would even suggest that.

"Do you want to get killed?" He asks, his tone firmer this time. You can tell he's serious, and your hands start to shake upon realizing how urgent he sounds.

He continues on despite your silence, eager to get you to follow along. "Listen, I don't know who you are or why you're here, but this is really bad timing. I was going talk to her about something important and now... you're here," he starts sounding utterly defeated. He knows explaining the situation to a random stranger likely wasn't going to help, but he was still going to try.

"She doesn't normally listen to me and she definitely won't if she has to deal with you, so just please hide. Just until I can get her to leave. Then I guess I'll figure out what to do," he finishes with a sigh and stares back at you hopefully. You simply nod slowly a little stunned. Felix realizes this is the closest he'll probably get to agreeance and doesn't try to convince you any further.

He grabs your hand gently as you step into the closet, helping you stay stable in the crowded space. You're surrounded by clothes of every color, so many blues and pinks that if you squint hard enough you can practically imagine you're walking into cotton candy.

"Just stay quiet, I'll try to get her to go away," He states quietly. He nods at you reassuringly and it comforts you. You still feel very trapped, but you no longer feel as nervous, rather trusting the man to take care of it for you. You don't know why he hasn't freaked out at you yet, but if he was going to, it probably would've already happened. He shuts the door slowly, dimming the small space. You watch his figure until the last little bit of light can no longer slip through, shutting you off from the room you had just been in.

Thank God you're not claustrophobic.

Once the door is completely shut, you're unable to see anything aside from black for a while, your eyes refusing to adjust to the sudden darkness. However, you listen carefully to everything happening outside the armoire in hopes of getting a better read on everything happening.

You hear Felix shuffling around in the room, obviously cleaning things up and maybe even hiding things considering his fearful reaction to the women's yell. You can hear her shout again from outside, but you can no longer make out what she says. The wood is too thick to depict more than a murmur. But, Felix seems to have heard what she has said. The noises from the room get much louder and rushed. Before suddenly they stop.

You hold your breath in the quiet, anxiously waiting for what comes next.

Felix takes a deep breath, glancing around the room one last time to make sure everything is nice and clean. He had noticed your bag left by the window, the stolen crown peeking out. A little chick, whom Felix had named Bbokari had been poking around next to it making him laugh in adoration of the small creature. He must have hidden when you had broken in, scared of the stranger. But that was to be expected, considering every time mother arrived home, Felix would tell the small chick to hide, pushing him out of sight. Now, Mother wasn't mean or an animal abuser. She had never hurt Bbokari before, but Felix honestly did not want to take that chance. She wasn't exactly a fan of critters or any type of outsider making their way into her tower.

He gives the chick a tiny pat on the head with his index finger, the small bird tweeting happily, before curiously picking up the crown. It shined brightly, the sun catching on the metal as he picked it up.

What in the world? he thinks in confusion. Out of all the things Mother has brought home, this is definitely not something he's seen before. It does, however, remind him of the fairytales he had read as a kid before she had confiscated them in an angry fit. She didn't like when he read about that stuff. It had confused him greatly, as she had never really told him why. So, rather than reading about princesses he was often stuck with books about nature or fiction stories about romance.

The chick pecks at his foot, urgently, trying to remind him of the situation at hand. He snaps out of it quickly putting the crown back in the leather bag. He brings it over to the stairs in the corner. He peels back the one broken step, shoving the bag beneath it. Not even mother knew of this hiding spot. He had to hide the bag, she would ask way too many questions about where that came from. He knows that realistically he should be scared about a stranger practically breaking into the tower. But maybe there's a small part of him that wants to prove himself to his mother. Show her that he really can handle himself. He's turning 18 tomorrow and maybe just maybe now that he's old enough, she'll let him go.

He's had this dream since he was little, to see the floating lights. Every year, they appear on his birthday. Hundreds of bright yellow lights fill the sky, and he cannot seem to figure out why. Either way though, he can't help but feel like they're meant for him. And every year, without fail, he watches them. He looks forward to it all year round, waiting for the day he can see the floating lights gleam again. It's his dream to see them up close in person, but it's starting to seem like it may be simply that- just a dream. How silly of him to think it's something that could actually happen.

Mother becomes very angry anytime he asks to leave the tower, or simply mentions anything about the outside world, but he feels confident this time. She's definitely going to let him go; she has to right? It's his only hope.

"Darling, I'm not getting any younger down here," Mother Gothel yells, sounding exasperated. He quickly picks Bbokari up, hiding him on a ledge behind a curtain, giving him a loving smile before rushing to go help her up.

She had created this tower without a door, purposefully hoping to keep him as far away from the outside and other people as she could. And hell, he couldn't blame her. After all the stories she has told him, he's thankful he's never been exposed to the harshness of the world.

Felix jogs over the window, leaning over the edge, feeling the soft spring breeze blow through his hair.

"Coming Mother!" he yells, adding excitement to his voice. Despite his earlier nervousness, he can't help but be excited whenever she comes home. She often takes long trips, only coming home for days at a time. He'll take any sort of human interaction he can get.

Felix grabs the rope from the wall next to the window, swinging it over the hook hanging down. He throws the rope over, watching his Mother grab it harshly once it hits the ground. Since there is no door, they use a sort of pully system. There's a loop at the bottom of the rope that mother slips her foot into and she holds onto the rope as Felix pulls her the rest of the way up.

It was exhausting, but he's gotten used to it over the years. Luckily, he's gotten a lot stronger over the years. Especially since now that he's older she goes on her trips a lot more. Don't get him wrong, he's thankful, he really is as these trips usually involve getting food or gifts for Felix and her. However, the days can get lonely and fast. There's only so much cleaning, baking, painting, and singing a person can do. It's the reason the walls of the tower are completely covered in different paintings. Some have even been painted over multiple times; he ran out of space long ago. Being home alone for days on end without being able to go outside isn't exactly the dream life some people would think. But he gets it. There are reasons he can't go outside and he must abide to keep himself safe.

So, he pushes the anger and resentment deep inside, painting on his happiest face for her to come home to. He finishes pulling her up and wipes a bead of sweat from his face as she finally steps into the sun-lit room.

She walks over to his bed, placing down her basket and shawl before returning to him. She always looks a bit run down when she comes home, her hair a bit more grey, wrinkles on her forehead, and this haunted look in her eyes. Honestly, it's enough to make him never want to go outside.

The woman caresses Felix's cheek gently, looking into his eyes. He has always loved whenever she was gentle with him, providing love and care, but it's starting to becoming rarer with each passing day.

"Felix, I don't know how you manage to do that day after day, dear," She says softly with a bit of concern.

"It's nothing, Mother," he reassures her, despite how exhausting it truly is. She lets go of him, before he can even finish the sentence, her gaze scanning the rest of the room.

"You keep it so nice and clean in here, it's so nice for Mumsy to come home to," she says, always impressed by the things he manages to get done while she's away. Felix cringes a bit at the statement, knowing he had finished cleaning at barely 7:30 am. It truly was the easiest part of the day. Honestly, the hardest part is always the waiting. Waiting for someone, anyone, to talk to or really just anything to do.

Mother walks over to his mirror that stands near the wall. It's circular and nothing fancy, framed in wood, but she looks at it as if it holds all the answers to life, like it's the most important thing in the world. Sometimes Felix wonders if she loves the mirror more than she loves him, but he quickly pushes that thought down, not wanting it to sour his mood anymore than it already has.

He follows her over to the mirror watching in disdain as she examines her face. Lifting her eyebrows and wincing as the skin drops back down, wrinkled and droopy from her trip. She glances up at him, making eye contact through the reflective glass. In this moment, Felix decides he needs to ask her. He's been waiting all day, or really his whole life, and he really just needs to put it out there.

He opens his mouth ready to admit his dream to her, but he's quickly cut off.

"Felix, my love, would you sing for me?" she asks, and despite her trying to hide it, he can detect the desperation in her voice. He's learned to pick out even the slightest change of tone from her over the years.

Felix's eyes widen, almost comically. How could he have forgotten. It's always the first thing she asks for when she gets back. Of course, she would want him to sing for her. His plan is just going to have to wait for a few more minutes.

He nods repeatedly, rushing off again to grab all the necessary supplies. He places Mothers chair down in the center of the room, before grabbing his flimsy stool, setting it in front of the chair. He sits down quickly, trying to hurry the situation along despite knowing how mother likes to take her time during the process. Going too quickly can become a bit more shocking than refreshing, but today was not the time for relaxation.

Mother finally comes over and takes a seat in her usual chair. She grabs Felix's hands and he can only hope she doesn't feel how sweaty they are. He's so nervous about how the conversation is going to go.

His mind is racing as he opens his mouth to start singing. The words coming with ease, practically muscle memory now with how many times he has sang it for her.

"Flower gleam and glow," he starts, his low voice bouncing off the circular walls. He can see her instantly start to relax as his voice fills the room. It makes Felix feel a bit better, knowing how happy it makes her when he sings. As the song continues, he starts to speed up, again eager to get it over with. Mother's eyes open again in panic, wanting the feeling to last longer.

"Wait-" she starts to say, but Felix has already made it to the ending line. As the song comes to a close, Mother jolts forward practically turning into a new person. Her hair is back to it's usual shiny raven color, a new sense of life brimming from her eyes, and all the wrinkles immediately disappearing from her skin. She's young again, just like she likes to be. He can't blame her, who doesn't wish to be young again.

Normally at this time, Felix would compliment her or tell her how he finds her beautiful before and after, but this time there is something else weighing on his mind. He can only hope that the wood of the closet is thick enough and that he had managed to close the door all the way, knowing sometimes it wouldn't latch completely.

This is the last thing he wants you to find out about. He's terrified you'll turn out to be one of those ruffians and thugs Mother warns him about, wanting to steal him away and use him for his magic.

Oh yeah, Felix has this magical ability where he can heal people with just his touch and voice. He can easily make anyone young again and heal all kinds of wounds. It's why he's in this tower, locked away. It's to keep him safe. Mother doesn't want his power to end up in the wrong hands.

She looks down at Felix in disbelief, not understanding why he is acting this way. He stands up abruptly from the small stool, the same one he has sat in since he was a child, and starts to talk, unable to keep it in anymore.

"Mother, tomorrow is a very special day. Do you know what day it is?" he asks, mouth running a mile a minute. She stands up with him, grabbing his wrist lightly, trying to stop him from pacing around the room. All the energy is making her head spin.

He doesn't even wait a second to let her respond, before reminding her, "It's my birthday!"

"Ah ah ah," she starts, "I distinctly remember that your birthday was last year." Felix tries not to let himself physically deflate at this. She always loves to play games like this.

"That's the funny thing about birthdays, they happen every year," he says gently, not wanting to anger her.

"What is it you want this year? How about those muffins you really liked from that one bakery?" she says, figuring that's what this conversation was about.

"Actually, Mother I was thinking, maybe I could go see the floating lights?" he asks, "The one's that fill the sky every year on my birthday."

At this her gaze immediately darkens, and he realizes that he was right. It's only a dream. It's not something that could come true. He should have known better. She would never let him leave the tower. She's told him this so many times before.

Yet, he couldn't help but try. It's who he is. He's too hopeful and innocent for his own good.

"Felix, you know how I feel about you leaving the tower," she states, her voice a low tone. Felix suppresses a shiver, his body reacting anxiously.

"But Mother-" he starts, hoping to explain himself.

"No buts, they are just stars, Felix, nothing worth putting yourself in danger for," she says, using an argument he had thought of many times.

"They aren't though, I have charted every single star in that sky, and it just doesn't fit. I can't help but feel like they are meant for me."

"Felix, do not argue with me" she says, her volume rising drastically. He knows she can get worked up fast with sensitive topics, but he really wishes she would just listen to him.

"Don't ever ask to leave this tower again," she says sternly as her grip around his wrist tightens harshly. He winces, tears pooling in his eyes, but he doesn't let them fall.

'Don't cry,' he repeats desperately in his head. She would never take him seriously or believe he could handle himself if he cried in front of her.

"Yes, Mother" he says back quietly, knowing there is no use fighting with her. She pats him gently on the head, satisfied with his answer, before moving back over to her basket. She starts to put her things back in their rightful spots, unpacking after her trip.

"Mother-" Felix starts again only to stop as her head aggressively snaps towards him, anger evident on her face.

"Enough about the stars, Felix," she yells in disbelief. Felix shrinks back instinctually. That wasn't even what he was going to say.

"I was actually thinking maybe you could get me more of those special paints you got me a few years ago," he says timidly, trying to come up with something else that she would be more willing to comply with.

"That's a 3-day trip," she sighs out in annoyance.

"I just thought it would be a better idea than... you know," he explains.

"Alright, dear, are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I know I'm safe as long as I'm here," he says back knowing just what she wants to hear. Felix helps as she goes to repack up her stuff, preparing for the long trip ahead of her.

"I love you, my flower," Mother says before she leaves the tower again, climbing down the rope to the soft grass of the outside world.

"I love you more," he says back. It's his usual response, but this time the words feels heavy coming off his tongue, almost as if it doesn't really weigh as truthfully in his heart as it did this morning. Everything just feels wrong.

Bbokari steps out from behind the curtain, chirping at him loudly. It was surprising how loud such a tiny animal could be. Felix walks over to him, gently petting him.

"Everything's going to be okay," he says softly, unsure if he's truly assuring the chick or himself.

A loud snore startles him from the interaction. Bbokari turns his head cutely towards the closet where the noise came from.

Felix sighs bumping his head lightly on the wall above the ledge.

“I don’t want to handle that right,” he says with a chuckle. Bbokari just looks up at him adamantly and Felix knows exactly what the little bird is trying to say. He can’t just keep you in the closet.

Felix rolls his eyes playfully before heading over to the armoire to let you out. However, he does grab his frying pan on the way… just in case.

More parts coming soon!!

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

☆★☆★→ Masterlist Key ←☆★☆★

🔥 - smut/sexual content 🩸 - violence/blood 🥀 - angst will add to as i see the need

☆ too small flannels ☆ the man in the valley ☆ don't come on too strong ☆ the girl on the hill ☆ just stay little ☆ stolen sweatshirts

★ lumen soulmate au ╰┈➤ part.1 || part.2 || part.3 ★ supernatural au [🔥] ★ not hungry anymore (a werewolf au) ╰┈➤ seven new ways that you can eat your young [🩸] ★ deep dark valley (a time-travel au) ╰┈➤ the fields are full of holes ★ parenthood killed the rodeo star (a famous au) ╰┈➤ on a night like this [🔥] ╰┈➤ lonely comin' down ★ thank-yous and rewards [🔥]

☆ the rise of sira (a sci-fi au) ╰┈➤ signals in the dark [🥀🩸] ╰┈➤ your electric touch [🔥] ☆ buckles not won ☆ tangled up in you ☆ frontier days - night one (a there was only one bed au) ☆ my whole life loving you (a childhood friends to lovers au) [🔥]

★ gifsets ★ graphics ★ alternate universes

[fictionplumis]

Because the first thing I do in any new fandom is reblog a bunch of art and then immediately think about AUs, and I know pretty much none of my followers know about this new guy I'm obsessed with but c'mon. Go on your app store or the fucking Switch store and do yourself a favor and play Sorcery! and romance the assassin. Anyway, how about a mer!AU for your troubles?

You would think the Analander would be the merperson in this one, since he's the magical one of the two, but nah. It's Flanker, with a sleek dark tail, always a shadow near the shore so he's just close enough to pull lone fisherman and swimmers down into the water for a meal. None who see him survive, and he especially distrusts any sorcerers near the shores, since they're often after something like him for their spell ingredients.

So when some Analander is poking around, well...

He's hungry and a spellcaster is usually useless under the water, too busy trying to struggle for the surface, falling further and further away from their precious stars.

Unfortunately for him, this one has a sword and enough sense to grab for it. Flanker almost drowns them, but then a blade is cutting through the water and it becomes an actual fight in the depths.

And it's fun. Flanker hasn't had a challenge like this in a long time. It's thrilling, up until the damn Analander gets in a good swing, and more after that, until Flanker realizes his mistake and ah, well... Seems like this is the end, this spellcaster will get his ingredients after all.

The Analander doesn't finish him off right away. He goes up for air, then swims back down to grab him and pull him, barely able to resist, up onto the shoreline. And then strangely asks if he speaks Analandish or any of the common hill languages, followed by wondering if he'll be already long enough out of the water for his wounds to be tended to.

Now Flanker isn't a really a "people person" for one of his kind. Most live in schools or pods or whatever, they're social creatures, but Flanker doesn't have one of those. He's pretty much out there himself. It's safer, y'know? Too many of his kind, and people wonder why there are so many disappearances along the shoreline. And he's fine with, Flanker thrives on his own.

Or so he tells himself.

But now he has this Analander sorcerer showing up all the time to sit on the rocks with their feet in the water, trying to talk to him. They bring food, and ramble about their studies, and they even go out there at night to practice their spells or to practice their sword forms during the day.

Flanker could ignore him, but he owes this person his life, technically.

At first he merely gives the sorcerer a glimpse that he exists. Just a flash of a dark tail breaching the water at first, or he'll watch the Analander with just his eyes peeking over the surface of the water, listening...

The Analander is friendly. He always seems happy when Flanker gives him the smallest acknowledgement.

He has a nice voice, too... It's not grating to listen to him ramble, even if Flanker is woefully ignorant about sorcery.

It's a slow process. The Analander knows he's succeed when Flanker cautiously approaches one day, only to duck under the water, grab their foot, and drag them into the water. They come up sputtering and get their first taste of a deep, rich laugh before Flanker ducks under the water and darts off and they realize that he has a sense of humor.

They actually start talking after that, Flanker becoming more and more comfortable propping himself out of the water to talk with his strange new friend. He's stolen some dice off some sailors after watching them play a few rounds of Swindlestones, which is a decent way to pass the time between curious questions passed between the two about their respective people.

No idea what the actual conflict would be but let's face it, I dig the whole we have completely different anatomies, let's explore each other in increasing inappropriate ways.

[cynicalmusings]

👀

so… do you guys remember that 700 followers event i did once which i only ever posted one request of?

well, i did start on a second request (and to be fair, it was going pretty well), but i stopped because of writer’s block as well as the fact that this was also when i was working on a chapter of my dark fairytale au, and they were quite similar in style, so i didn’t want too much overlap.

having said all that, here’s a snippet of what i got done:

——————————————————————

once upon a time…

there stood a castle on a hill. this castle was huge and grande, with tall, dark stone spires that seemed to pierce the very night with their pointed tips. deep red carpets lined the polished floors like velvet rivers, flowing with a colour not dissimilar to blood.

the interior of the castle was dark, each corner shrouded in shadow. a few golden-limbed chandeliers hung from the ceiling, on which candles burned and cast their dim light into flickering shadows on the walls. shapes seemed to move within the darkness, their forms twisting and changing in the crimson candlelight.

but this castle was no ordinary castle: it was hidden from the human eye, so that any soul who stumbled across the settlement would see that this castle was old and overgrown with weeds and vines; perhaps more akin to crumbling ruins than a once-royal residency, with only a few lingering traces of its former grace remaining in the towers of cobbled stone that rose above the treetops of the dense woodland and the tall, arched windows of stained glass long faded into the diluted remnants of vibrant colours, their shattered shards littering the uneven cobbled floors, and they would not think to even come close, as if the very idea of doing so was stolen away from their thoughts.

and in this castle lived a man— but be not mistaken, this was no ordinary man as we may know him, for he was one of the night-walkers; those who roam the shadows and hide from the light; or, as you may better know them, vampires.

he spent his days in solitude, hunting by night and wandering the castle by day, the spiders that spun their webs on the walls his only companions. however, he was content with this un-life, for nobody would bother him, and he could pass his days undisturbed by those who would wish to do him harm. as long as humans did not bother him, he would not bother them; such was his mentality, and he saw no need to leave his abode for any reasons other than food, nor expressed any desire to find such other reasons.

however, as one should know, often a person does not find a reason, but a reason finds a person.

——————————————————————

you know… i think this was actually @cynotical’s request with a vampire + little mermaid au, so…. sorry about that…

[tabbyrp]

🎤 for a trope filled drabble

[x] [x] [x]

March 1990, Chapter One.

The worst of winter had passed. A harsh chill still clung to the air come evening time, wind bleeding warmth from bones and licking at the flames people huddled around for warmth. But the ground had begun to soften. Ice becoming water, dripping down to feed dormant bulbs and other life skittering beneath the loam. Finally, beneath the light of a swollen moon, Helen could dig.

Her fingers protested, the aches of age starting to linger in her joints. Still, she drove them into the soil. Dirt burrowed into the tips. Sun-weathered skin looking as though it had been dipped in tar. Still, she dug, then dug some more. The offering demanded only flesh break the earth, no metal or iron tool or other form of aid. Her sweat and her toil part of the sacrifice.

A shape began to form. As round as Luna herself, then when deep enough to Helen’s satisfaction, she laid the edge with stones borrowed from the woods. If the pebbles had been mushrooms, it would have for all the world resembled a tiny pixie ring, the kind of place superstition said would grip lost travellers, or where the devil sat to churn his milk. Tonight, demons remained absent. Only Helen risked being stolen and she had far too much to do for such nonsense.

Into the pit she poured a full bottle of whiskey. Then a cup of honey. The sticky substance glistened beneath the moonlight, viscous and slick. When Helen dropped in a gold bracelet, the honeyed whiskey mix sucked the trinket down, oozing between each link until bound completely. Last came three drops of blood, stored safe in a vial the past little while, as she beseeches in a tongue scarcely spoken in those parts. Begging for those with the means to protect her nephew. To keep him safe.

As Helen began to cover the gifts with soil, her request was both heard and honored. But, as the first flowers of springs needed more sun and warmth to blood, so would this guardian require time to grow.

2011, Chapter Two

Carol Johnson screamed. Loud and long, burning through oxygen, shredding best laid plans with her wailing. Like some red headed siren, her song called forth a brave man. One slam of shoulder against the door and Raylan was there. He aimed. Fired. All between one beat of a thudding heart and the next. The bullet landed right where he intended. It was the target that misbehaved. A figure all in black which stumbled, staggered, then slipped right out the window from whence it came. By the time Raylan had Carol secured and could lean out across the sill, the assailant was gone.

-

“Seriously, Raylan. Learn to lock up. You never know what’s out there.” As flimsy a protection the bolts of the motel provided, Tabby shoved them into place behind her. She came bearing gifts, vanilla ice cream to be specific, dropping the tub and two plastic spoons upon his rickety wooden table. It was only when she actually paused long enough to look at her friend did the temperature in the room drop several degrees.

“Lift up your shirt.” Sweet sounding words any other time. Less enticing when fuelled by a spark of Raylan’s simmering anger. Tension a vice around his jaw and warmth gone from his eyes. Enough distance between the pair of them for Raylan to draw. Too close for her to bolt.

“Raylan. C’mon. If you wanted that kind of thing, you should have given a girl warning.” A joke. Familiar, friendly, kidding around the way they always did. The punchline failing to land. Instead of laughing, Raylan’s hand came to rest upon his holstered gun. You make me pull, I'll put you down. Part of his own ritual before blood was drawn. One warning. One chance to retreat back from the path of inevitable demise.

Silently, Tabby pinched fabric between her fingers and lifted. The softness of her belly revealed first, then a bra of royal blue, and finally, confirmation of suspicion. Pale skin punctured, in the midst of healing, thin black veins spidering out from where his bullet split flesh apart.

“What are you?” His hand stayed on the gun. The first shot had missed her heart, just barely, yet now it was breaking all the same. That was how this old land worked. No escapes, merely consequences waiting their turn.

“She wants to kill you.” Tabby hated to beg. She would now though. Pleading, desperate, trying to make her friend understand. “Carol. She’s going to finish what they started…”

“You think I don’t know that?” Either Raylan’s patience wore thin, or her lies had wreaked their own path of destruction. Hurting him in a way she never intended, and she felt the ringing in her chest, an echo of how the betrayal cut. “I know what Carol is and what she intends. What I fail to get is what you are.”

Tabby sighed, letting her shirt fall. When Raylan failed to halt her, the chair with one wobbly leg became dragged from its resting spot. Slumping into the seat, she flipped open the lid of the ice cream tub and dug in a spoon. “I’m still me. Just… imagine this is a football game. You’re the star quarterback. I’m one of those linesmen out of the field, meant to keep the other team from reaching you.” Put in by Coach Helen, she almost added. A detail for a later date.

The motel room grew silent, except for the drip of the leaky tap above the bathroom sink and the low, steady hum of his refrigerator. The peace broke as Raylan pulled up the chair across from Tabby and reached for the slowly melting tub of vanilla. “I’m more of a baseball analogy guy myself.” Words of forgiveness that began to heal the damage wrought. One stitch over a wound, only one, but unlike the magic his Aunt Helen had woven all those years ago, this time it was a choice which bound their fates together.

[kitchenisking]

Fic Rec🙂

Every Time by xxjinchuurikixx - (Rating: T, Words: 700, sterek)

Grinning like an idiot, Stiles inhaled deeply, stretched slowly, and in a searching motion, he reached his arm out and slapped the pillow beside him. * In which there's some fluff and slapping.

This Isn't Love (Yet) by bi_leigh_bi - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5152, sterek)

Stiles is cold and wet, he's exhausted. He is not in love with Derek Hale, but he invites him inside anyway.

You Call Me A Hero by happyevraftr - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5233, sterek)

Stiles knows he won’t beat this mysterious dark evil that’s come to devour them. He knows it’s a losing battle and he’s probably going to die anyways, but he still tries. He has to try and save them.

Blessed by the Mother Moon by theonewiththeeyebrows (painfullystoic) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4527, sterek)

Derek transcends to Alpha, blessed by the Mother Moon. The Druids come out of the fog and bless his ascension to power with an unlikely gift, prompted by an ancient prophecy.

A Chance Worth Taking by ash_mcj - (Rating: G, Words: 1885, sterek)

When Derek woke up, he thought he was in a dream.

There were posters littering the familiar forest green walls that he hadn’t seen in years—Star Trek, Black Eyed Peas, even a Destiny’s Child one he had completely forgotten was on the back of his bedroom door that he’d stolen from Laura’s wall when she’d left for college. A burgundy and white letterman jacket was slung over his desk chair, bold letters spelling his surname and his basketball number across the back with Beacon Hills Cyclones Basketball on the lower half.

This wasn’t possible—this room had burned to ash years ago, and his nightmares almost never featured such simple scenes as this one. There were no foreboding feelings, no sharp smell of smoke, no guilt-inducing screams. 

And just as he was about to dig his clawed hand into his thigh in an attempt to wake himself from this maybe-dream, he remembered. ___

[or: with the help of some magic, Derek and Stiles go back in time—giving them the opportunity to save not only their future pack, but also the first one Derek lost]

(Teen Wolf Bingo Square: Time Travel)

(Fall)ing In Love With Autumn (& You) by alisvolatpropiis - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 2877, sterek)

Just some fluffy Fall sweetness for y'all! 

From a prompt on Tumblr: "i wanted to really embrace the fall spirit so i raked my leaves into a big pile and have been jumping around in it for ages and your moving truck just pulled up beside my house, so hi i’m your new not-weird neighbour.”

Remember What's Lost by AMatchInWater - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7776, sterek)

Wild Hunt AU, Stiles gets taken and Derek instantly knows something is wrong with his memory, but just doesn't know what until Lydia calls him, begging for his help to get Stiles back because she thinks they have the strongest connection. When Derek saves Stiles he stops at nothing to finally get what's his.

My Spark for You by nightlight9 - (Rating: G, Words: 2779, sterek)

Stepping over the threshold, Stiles takes a deep breath. He may not be a werewolf, but the smell of Derek’s house is still overwhelming. Everything is warm inside, a perfect contrast to the cold chill outside. He's so happy to be home.

Trying to Break Through by coffeeinallcaps - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5507, sterek)

At first, it’s just sex.

It’s good sex – Derek comes every time, Stiles comes every time, says things like “whoa,” and “do that again, yeah, yeah, like that, fuck,” – but still: it’s just sex. They don’t speak much, at first. They don’t kiss as much as bite down on each other’s bottom lips and breathe heavily into each other’s mouths when they’re about to blow their load. Derek is not sure if it qualifies as kissing at all. He’s not sure if he wants it to.

(He’s not sure why he wants it to.)

Quicken by reillyblack - (Rating: Mature, Words: 4299, sterek)

Derek had not been aware that Stiles was a virgin. Derek tried, often, not to think about Stiles and sex. He didn't succeed, but he did try. And Stiles has to know that, has to be doing this to him on purpose. No one is this thick.

For example, Scott knows exactly what Stiles is doing to him.

Scott.

[cyborg-franky]

Thank You Patreon!

Another piece for another wonderful patreon thank you for your love and support <3

Ace x GN Reader SFW Fairy Tail AU [Aladdin - loosely based] Word Count: 1,013

The market was a much nicer place when you didn’t have bodyguards pushing people out the way and snapping at people who got too close to you. It was a little snug as you wriggled past a few people to see what the fuss was about at one stall. You saw how the items for show glimmered in the last slithers of sunlight.

Riches and trinkets didn’t interest you. You were noble and had everything handed to you, not that it was the life you’d wanted, simply born into. Many nights you sat at your bedroom window staring into the sunset, trying to catch sight of the ocean between the treetops. How the waves called to you each night as they gently lulled you to sleep with unspoken promises.

The salty sea breeze would waft into your window, bewitching your senses and making you long to be free. Away from this house and the people that kept you chained from your own destiny. A life you could earn by yourself.

Sneaking out to be among normal people gave you a taste of that freedom, it would whet your pallet for greater adventure. You wriggled through the crowd once more, getting away from the growing masses gathered to barter and paw at the shiny things on display.

That was when you noticed him. Tall, tanned, freckled cheeks, a mischievous smirk across his handsome face comprised of sharp features. A bright orange hat sat on wavy black locks. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he walked past a vendor with apples piled high.

He grabbed one like it was nothing, not even blinking as he’d stolen it. Ace felt eyes on him from across the busy pathway. Dark eyes met yours, his grin grew even wider as he held up the apple, he’d stolen mouthing ‘want one?’ you didn’t know what came over you, it was such a tempting offer though.

You had a feeling it was only so inviting because of the handsome man with the wild grin. He grabbed another and walked towards you. Shorts hung low on his hips as he sauntered over. He might have gotten away with his little five-finger discount if he hadn’t been so cocky and grabbed you one.

“Oi, oi! Pirate!” The vendor hissed and pointed over the heads of the crowd.

Ace laughed like it wasn’t a big deal. He tossed an apple in your direction; on instinct, you’d caught the fruit. He smirked when he saw your eyes widen, people staring at you both now with angry words spilling forth.

“I guess you’re my compliance now huh. Come on!” He grabbed your hand and started to run away from the mob forming behind you.

“Did you do that on purpose?” your words came out angry despite how much you were laughing as he pulled you along. You were drug through bushes and trees that whipped along your arms, face and tugged at your clothes.

“Ah! The thing about me babe, I don’t plan anything!” He said with another howl of laughter, his hand never leaving yours as you both started to slide down the steep grass slope.

You stared ahead now, seeing the dock, the sea looked beautiful as the dying day splashed the dark canvas with the last drips of golden colour from the sinking sun. You couldn’t breathe, the sight had stolen your breath. That and maybe the fact you were running full speed down the hill, the mob still on your tail.

The handsome man in the orange hat carried on pulling you, your legs struggling to keep up with his longer strides. Heavy footsteps clunked against the rickety wood of the sleepy little dock he’d dragged you along. He jumped on a small boat, he offered you his hand once more.

You bit your lip in hesitance. Ace’s smirk had softened, a smile on his lips as he nodded for you to join him. “Consider this your invitation to adventure.”

Taking a deep breath, hearing the shouting of the crowd of angry townspeople you nodded your head. No words of confirmation ever left you, your actions speaking louder than any words ever could as you took his hand once more.

Jumping onto the striker, being held steady by the pirate. He got into position and had you crouch in front of him, he grinned brightly as he gripped your shoulders. “Hold on!” He called.

Fire from seemingly nowhere erupted. You yelped and glanced back seeing the pirate was the source of the fire, blinking your eyes in disbelief, somewhere in the back of your mind logic reminded you of devil fruits. Instead of letting panic take over you, you looked ahead as the boat picked up speed, leaving the island and your old life behind.

Once out to sea Ace snuffed out his fire, he helped you to your feet before he fell back into a sitting position, leaning against the mast. He pulled out the apple that he’d stolen. Biting into it, crisp crunches and a satisfied hum broke the gentle sounds of the sea.

“Have you ever seen such a view?”

You pulled your apple out of your pocket and stared up at the sky, now he mentioned it, the sky was darkness you’d never encountered before. The stars a thousand blinking lights, each begging for your attention. Nothing was as beautiful as the moon. The glow cast across the ocean, making you feel humble for a moment.

“Wow..”

“Yeah, that was my first thought when I headed out to sea too.” Another crunch sound from the rich juicy apple. He patted the seat next to him, you joined him and started to eat yours.

“I’m Ace by the way, sorry about that,” He itched a freckled cheek before winking at you “You looked like you needed rescuing”

You sighed and nodded your head, leaning against the mast and admiring how the moonlight looked on his freckled face. You would never even look back at your old life, your adventure with Ace was better than any riches.

TAG LIST:

@undercoverweeeb @slut4animedilfs @acesmarigold @sanjithesimp @aces-sweetheart @sugxrslushy @kaizokuwritings @bepoprotectionsquad @iloveportgasdace @thatsprettycoolbro @fire-fist-ann @rivvd-art @santoru @mimi-ya @simp4ace @aifozu @my-muses-in-op @saisei-no-hano @useless-potatho @smoleevee @gonuclear @whisplion

[donutloverxo]

A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal​

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the  ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia, talks of virginity.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

Valkyrie, or simply Val, watched the entire thing unfold before her eyes and was helpless to stop any of it. All of it. All she could do was watch. Much like one would watch a train accident happen before their very eyes.

She had tried. In truth she had.

However, Sarah was the Queen Mother and Val was a member of the Royal Guard.

There was little she could do.

“Your Majesty,” she purred one last time, in one last attempt to save a situation that she knew deep in her heart was not going to go well at all. “Perhaps you would prefer to go inside and I’ll bring them into the reception area?”

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

As it was located in the center of the capital. An old historic building from imperial days that covered numerous city blocks, was where the government was run and where King Steven resided. Press knew better than to hang around outside the imposing palace gates as the king never left out them and was uninterested in opportunities to have his picture taken. As did the Queen Mother.

And yet, that morning, a whole gaggle of photographers were lined up and waiting for the visiting royals. Or so they had shared with Val.

Her Grace, Hope van Dyne, never went anywhere without getting her picture taken. In Val’s opinion, she probably had the phone number to every tabloid office in the world.

Sarah’s voice was kind. Soft. Gentle. It made Val want to wrap her queen up in a blanket and make her go inside so she could deal with their unwelcome guests. She stood beside Val at the top of the steps of the palace, provided with a great view of the black sedan that had pulled in through the gates. The flashiest possible way to enter the palace instead of through the underground garage like everyone else.

“Oh no. That’s hardly necessary. They wanted a scene. Let us give them one.”

Not liking the sounds of that at all, her brown eyes flickered over to look at the slim woman with a head of artfully styled strawberry blonde curls, a button nose and rose petal lips. She was every bit as regal as her title, even if she had not a drop of royal blood in her body.

“You can’t think that they actually called the press to say that the Duchess Hope was the woman with His Majesty on the video from the royal banya?”

Sarah’s cool blue gaze flickered to her royal bodyguard before returning back to the sedan so she could observe her former friend climb out, followed by her raven-haired daughter who waved to the photographers on the other side of the iron gates.

That was exactly what Sarah suspected the second she’d seen it in the morning paper. Though she doubted she would ever find out who had started that rumor.

“Have you found out why they’re here?”

Grimacing, Valkyrie shook her head, unhappy to not have an answer for her queen beneath the cloudy chilly winter day. “Not yet Your Majesty. We have reached out to the Maharaja’s Staff and are waiting to hear back. Soon though we suspect.”

Any second now Val hoped her phone would ring so she could tell the queen.

Which led to Sarah turning her head to look away from her guests as they climbed the stairs. She looked away from the large fountain that the sleek luxury car was parked beside and gave her last true smile for what she suspected would be till lunch. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Valkyrie’s wrist. One of her preferred bodyguards. She’d been loyal and had on two occasions nearly given her life in service of her country. “I trust you will find out and inform me as soon as possible. Do not fret. I doubt they will be leaving anytime in the near future.”

Only a lifetime of service kept Val from cracking a smile.

Instead, her dark eyes watched the silver haired Queen of the Netherlands climb the steps towards them. Smiling. Dressed expensively with a heavy coat made from numerous small furry animals.

Queen Janet van Dyne approached as if it hadn’t been years. She came to stand beside Sarah and greet her in such a way that would make for a perfect picture. Or so Sarah noticed. She greeted her as if they were still friends who spoke frequently on the phone and still sent one another gifts. As if their children had married and everything was fine.

“Sarah! How wonderful to see you, you have not aged a day.”

Janet reached out with gloved hands trimmed in mink, leaned forward to place a polite kiss on Sarah’s cheek in greeting and was more than a little surprised when Sarah stepped away. Her own hands remaining clasped in front of her and out of Janet’s. Greeting or otherwise.

“Janet,” was all that came from Sarah’s mouth. A look went from Janet’s coat down to her dress and then shoes, pausing there before coming back up. “Is that the dress you wore to Lizzie’s grandson’s wedding?”

Surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof, Janet paused and then smiled brightly, knowing that though the cameras could not hear them they could capture this image on film. “Yes. We’re focusing on becoming sustainable out in the west. Going green isn’t merely a project meant as royal busywork.”

Sarah could actually feel Valkyrie stiffen beside her at mention of the Green Initiative that Steve had tasked her with and had been far from busywork. It was something that Sarah could go on and on about, one of her many efforts that she busied herself with and yet, she found she didn’t want to expend that much energy on her once friend.

Hands still in front of her, fingers laced together where she could feel her wedding band. Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t know. We remain a governing monarchy here.”

Janet blanched. Her lips formed a straight line, nearly as straight as the way her spine stiffened.

Though Sarah was unable to enjoy it as she turned her attention to the daughter. Hope van Dyne. Formerly Princess Hope but now Duchess Hope, after having been stripped of her title and recently reinstated to a lesser one, in Sarah’s opinion anyway.

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

“Sarah! How are you? You look wonderful!” Exclaimed Hope, sounding genuinely thrilled to see the woman who might have been her mother-in-law had things gone differently. She stepped on up with outstretched arms and was greeted with a serene face that looked at her in confusion.

Sarah said nothing. Not a word. Sarah maintained eye contact and looked at Hope as if waiting for the younger woman to say or do something.

Thus leading to Hope blinking in confusion and lowering her arms, looking to her mother for assistance as this clearly was not the welcome she expected.

“Is something wrong,” Hope asked a bit nervously as a winter breeze ruffled the fur on her mother’s coat. Sneaking under the cashmere of her own, as she hadn’t had time to properly shop for winter here. This was her mother’s idea. It was her last hope. Her father had refused to hear her and not even her mother could plead her case this time. This was it.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Val watched Hope’s confusion and fought hard to not say anything at all, and it was becoming painful to watch in her opinion. Her gaze veered over to all the photographers that were watching more than taking pictures. Even they seemed to realize this visit was not starting off smoothly.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

Val risked a look over at her queen. Her queen who was peering at the young woman who had referred to Val’s people as ‘war criminals’ or ‘superstitious backwoods fools.’

Unable to take another moment of it, Valkyrie cleared her throat.

Finally making Sarah take mercy on Hope who really should have known better in her opinion. “In civilized societies, a duchess would curtsey to a queen. Perhaps things are different for those who are merely ceremonial in purpose.”

***

Someone called your name and for a second, you were terrified that Wanda had come for your ass.

Not that you could blame the best friend you’d had since high school.

Upon heading into the offices of the royal palace that morning, you had intentionally avoided her , secure in the knowledge that she was pissed at you and you really did not want to have the fight you knew was coming someplace public like the office.

So, you’d been groveling via text and promising to go out with her that night for a girls night, swearing on your honor that you would tell her everything! Because Wanda was no fool.

Wanda saw the new dress you had on. Wanda saw your new shoes. Wanda noticed your perfect makeup and styled hair. Wanda also brought up the facts that you’d not been home that night or early morning, as well as the crucial one regarding your flatiron that was still in the bathroom the two of you shared.

Needless to say, you had a lot of explaining to do.

There was no getting around it. You were going to have to tell her about Steve. Sure, you’d swear her to secrecy until everything came out. The palace had made its announcement this morning about King Steven being in a relationship that he would make public soon. A second public statement had come from the Palace PR Guru, Maria Hill, stating that without a doubt, the king was not involved with Duchess Hope after a few rumors had burnt their way through the palace and news cycles.

Besides, Wanda should know. Wanda deserved to know. You and Wanda had come on this adventure post university together. Wanda had to know before it came out in the form of an official palace announcement, or else Wanda might very well skin you alive.

Hearing your name on a female tongue had you snapping up, your attention diverted away from the emails you were checking.

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

It was an Indian woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips a shade of red that had you lowkey thinking about asking for the name and shade of said lipstick. Her dark eyes bore right through you. As if spearing you from your chair and to the wall of your office.

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

While your natural first instinct was to report that was what it said on your door. Professional-you put the kibosh on that right away. Inner you was somewhat intimidated by this powerful woman who looked as if she knew your every last secret.

Head held high this woman so informed you in a tone that let you know she was here for nothing less. “The Maharaja has sent us. Duchess Hope of the Netherlands has stolen from us and is here with the intention of pleading political asylum. While the Maharaja would like nothing more than to have her brought back for trial of the theft of our priceless treasures. I will settle for what was taken and no less.”

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

“Oh…goody…” came from your lips with a frown.

“General Odinson sent me here. He told me that you would be able to help resolve this issue for me post haste.”

Oh of course General Fucking Thor Odinson would send this person your way so he didn’t have to deal with this international nightmare of an incident.

Letting out a deep breath, you held up a finger. “Let me just send this out real quick…what’s your name?” And you typed as quickly as humanly possible on your encrypted laptop.

“Ekta. I am with the Maharaja’s Royal Guard.”

Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t Hope have stolen from the Maharaja and bounced? Though you’d never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face, you’d heard more than your share about the infamous Duchess, then Princess, Hope.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

“You’ve got any pictures or detailed descriptions of what the items stolen look like? I’m sure His Majesty will be very curious. And, you know, the more information of what we’re looking for the better.”

And done.

With a tap on your laptop, you’d sent out an email to the Finance Minister. Then up you stood.

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

Not that you blamed her. If you were in her shoes, you would have been super pissed off too. Being robbed was never fun.

“Let’s go see if we can track down His Majesty. If not, we’ll make an appointment with his secretary and then go see who is in the office of our Royal Guard. Someone is always in there and I know that Carol, she’s Captain of the Guard, is working right now.” You explained, as if you felt that telling this unhappy woman all these things could somehow make everything right. Probably not. But you still had to try. It was in your nature to fix problems and you most definitely wanted to fix this problem.

Ekta said nothing.

She merely followed you out of your office and into the hallway which was lined with doors and walls of tasteful and probably expensive original art.

You looked to the left.

Then to the right and nearly died then and there at your luck.

How had you gotten so lucky?

There, mere feet away and closing, was not just Carol but His Majesty, deep in discussion about something that was irritating them both.

You had an inkling that you knew what was at the heart of their discussion.

The sight of you made them stop talking and pause in their tracks, which told you that you had been the one that they were seeking.

Before anything could be done, you bowed. “Your Majesty, just the person I was hoping to find.” Up you flourished your hand to gesture at Ekta, who you could feel was beside you, practically putting off rays of righteousness. “We have a visitor from the Maharaja’s Royal Guard. This is Ekta. She is here because of something that concerns the Duchess Hope.”

The reaction that came was almost immediate from both Steve and Carol.

A look as if Steve had suddenly smelled a dead animal came over his face. Carol however cocked her hip to the side, lifted her chin in a dark blue pantsuit, almost demanding in a knowing sort of way. “What’d she steal from you guys? Art or jewelry?”

For the first time ever, you noted a moment of Ekta’s veneer breaking. Like she was taken off balance. “The duchess stole from you too?” Then, almost as an afterthought came, “Your Majesty?”

And this was news to you too.

You had no idea that Hope had taken souvenirs with her that weren’t free to take when she fled the Royal Palace for India all those years ago.

When Steve spoke, his teeth were clearly clenched together. “Yes. Both. She raided my mother’s room as well as the halls for art and pieces that are priceless. Sacred treasures from my countries history that can never be replaced. She filled her suitcase with on her way out.”

“Every now and then an item will appear on the black market. We can only assume that she is selling them when she is in need of money.” Carol helpfully added.

Beside you, you could practically feel Ekta tremble. Shake out of control one could say.

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

Carol however had one. “Yes. Her Majesty is taking tea out in the gardens with the Duchess Hope and her own mother.”

After being brought abreast of that development, you had a statement to make. One you thought was obvious. But none-the-less, out it came. Maybe none of them knew? “It’s snowing outside.”

Thus leading Steve to turn his attention on you. Finally. And when he did so, he looked at you as if you were only his Chief of Staff. He looked at you kindly without the heat in his eyes from earlier that morning, when he’d woken you up by pushing himself deep into your body until the both of you reached a climax that made your eyes cross and left an impression of his teeth broken into your shoulder.

“Yes. Mother wanted to be sure that the Duchess Hope did not steal anything else from within the palace walls whilst they are here.”

Well then.

Even you had to admit. The Queen Mother could be downright frosty when the occasion called for it. Pun intended.

“She’s having tea with Queen Janet and Duchess Hope outside? In the frigid temperatures?”

You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it. You blinked. You looked from Steve who appeared casual after his statement, like he just told you the winters here were cold. Over to Carol who was pulling out her phone from her pocket. Acting like you hadn’t said anything out of the normal.

“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Ekta and deal with this issue. If anything arrives concerning this issue. I will contact you. Nakia will come fill my place today.”

If Steve was greatly upset by any of his, he made no outward indication of it other than a nod of his head that he both heard and understood and accepted what Carol had told him. His attention was instead focused on you.

“I have a meeting concerning the Switzerland trip about the proposed embassy. Go get your notes. You’ll be joining me.”

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hope van Dyne, had finally made it in the palace after that psycho, the Queen Mother Sarah, had the audacity to serve tea in the garden as flakes of snow drifted down. And if that weren’t barbaric enough, afterwards, she then led them around the winter garden as if Hope gave a damn.

Hope had problems and Queen Sarah was not very receptive to any of her attempts to thaw the ice that had formed around Sarah’s heart. Nor did her mother, Janet, have much luck.

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

Sarah should have been ecstatic that Hope would even return to this shithole. Sarah’s son was still single, he needed a queen and his backwoods hovel wanted a queen and Hope had royal blood. What more did Sarah need? Did she need it written down?

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

Hope remembered a distinctively different Sarah. When she had lived in this palace, Steve’s mother had coddled her, practically waited on her hand and foot to be sure that Hope was happy and settling in so far from civilization. Where was that Sarah now?

Somehow, Hope had managed to break away, pleading a need to use the powder room around the time her toes and fingers went numb. As she hadn’t had the time to properly shop for clothes to wear in this frigid shithole. India had been so gloriously warm. She’d loved India. Hope would have loved to stay there but things had gone south.

Eventually, like everything else, it’d blow over.

Until then though, she needed someplace safe to stay. She needed to stay somewhere that the Maharaja couldn’t get her. What she needed was diplomatic immunity. However, that wasn’t going to happen since her father refused to even see her, so she’d just have to settle for sovereign immunity. Granted, Hope hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to see Steven and tell him that she was ready to get married now. For crying out loud, he should have been groveling at her feet for her to come back to him. Especially after that sex tape which had been burning up the internet and royal circles. If there was anything that Hope could do, it was bounce back from a scandal.

This was just ridiculous.

The Queen Mother should have been inviting them to this lunch with her son, instead of practically throwing Hope and Janet out. Which was exactly why Hope was wandering the halls in the search for Steven’s office. Toes tingling in her fashionable pumps. Her fingers burning from the warm air in the administrative offices.

Hope would need a whole new wardrobe once she got Steven onboard with her plan. As his current plan of ignoring the sex tape was absurd. These things needed to be tackled head on. With her as his queen by his side, Hope could handle all of it.

Ah, she found herself pleased at the sight of the royal seal over a doorway marking it as the king’s office.

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

As soon as Hope was queen, she’d be one of the first on the firing block. Following her around like some manner of commoner who might fill their pockets with royal gold. It was absurd. Hope was born a princess and one day she would become one again.

Hope remembered Valkyrie from when she was a young member of the guard and now, she was a Captain and just as irreprehensible as Carol, who Hope also despised. Both of them had to go. Reaching out with a hand that held a ring belonging to the sister of the Maharaja, Hope opened the door and marched right into the office of Steven’s secretary. Who was apparently gone for lunch.

Not that the room was empty.

Nakia, who had been seated on a couch in the office, stood. Dressed in a dark blue suit that all the royal guard wore. Her face stony at the sight of Hope and then darkened further in disgust. She stood tall. Regally. Holding her head high when she spoke down to the former princess. “The king is busy.”

Not that Hope would settle for anything less than seeing Steven in person immediately. She stepped forward. “The king is having lunch with his mother in fifteen minutes. I know for a fact he’s not doing anything of importance. Get out of my way, or I’ll have you selling souvenirs from a cart outside the palace when I am queen.”

At such a statement, Nakia found herself wanting to both laugh and spit in the face of this western woman. One who had referred to her people and country as little more than a backwoods hellhole full of illiterate stone pounders.

How often Nakia had dreamt of being so close to the Duchess Hope, how she thought of ripping out this woman’s forked tongue.

“Let her in,” came Valkyrie’s voice in their native tongue from the eastern regions of the land.

Sending Nakia’s dark eyes past Hope. A knowing expression claimed her features. “His Majesty is in there waiting for our queen.”

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

Nakia would be the first to admit, she had not been hopeful when the crown prince had been coronated as a teenager. No one in the country had been particularly hopeful but now, nearly everyone supported their king. His Majesty was a good king who served them all as much as they served him.

Nakia was protective of her king. She wanted her king to marry his Chief of Staff yesterday. Her land was in need of a queen, a woman’s touch one could say.

Knowing what was at stake with the coming lunch that her king would attend with his mother and lover, a visit from the Duchess Hope would not put him in the best of moods. The Queen Mother always grew quiet when King Steven was in such a mood. Why would Nakia allow such a thing to happen?

“Perhaps if he tells her she isn’t wanted here she’ll leave sooner? Let her in. That is an order.”

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

She wasn’t about to open the door to His Majesty’s office for this interloper. However, she would no longer stand in the way. Nakia even made sure to send a look that screamed impending homicidal violence. Spurring Hope quickly through the door without another syllable directed at Nakia.

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

Wanting distance sent Hope into the king’s large office without much thought. Looking as if it belonged in an old Victorian estate with dark wood, so many books, old art and thick dark Turkish Rugs.

What Hope did not expect was how much the prince had grown.

No longer a gangly young man whose mother had to have padding sewn into the robes that he was coronated in. This man sitting at his desk was big in every way. Exuding power in a manner that most could only dream and for a second, seeing Steven look at her with shocking blue eyes and stubble darkening his face, she was rendered speechless.

“What do you want Hope,” came Steven’s voice, more than a little annoyed. Far more emotion than she’d ever seen from the young man. Who was now very obviously a man.

This was not the Steven she remembered.

Before her was not the young man she remembered at all. Every last bit of him was very much a king and Hope suddenly, possibly for the first time in her life, found herself regretting many of the past choices she made. It seemed her mother was right. She’d been far too hasty in her youth. Her mother had told her that the prince would mature like a fine wine. Hope had written that off as nonsense meant to trap her into an arranged marriage like so many women before her.

Now?

Now she was looking at a tall powerful man close a very modern looking laptop and turn his attention on her in such a way that made her gut coil. What would it have been like to be the woman in the video? And where the hell did that thought come from? She had been wrong. So so very wrong.

Finally, gathering herself, Hope peered around the office and fussed at the pearl buttons on her coat. “I saw the video…” A noise came from Steven that she’d never heard before, yet, she went on. “…and since we’re still technically engaged, I thought I would return to help you put out the fires of this scandal.”

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

“Wow. That’s cute. Highly amusing coming from you.” Though there was no hint of heat or passion in his words that had been so evident on that video. In her opinion, he didn’t even sound bored. Worse. Steven then leaned back in his seat, peered around her and asked, “Who let you in here?”

Those words, those uncaring words as if she were little more than the two guards outside his office made her burn, bristle.

Which had Hope clearing her throat, bristling one could say. “Actually, it’s more than cute. If you recall, I come from a distinguished royal house. Our engagement is a legally binding agreement.”

For the reaction she got, she might as well have told him it was showing outside.

As she was prone to when there was silence that needed to be filled, Hope pushed the waves of dark hair over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other and watched Steven lean back in his chair.

Finally, as if sensing that she wasn’t going to leave, Steve offered her a shrug. Finding the mere sight of her numbing. He could have cared less what she did one way or the other. So long as she stayed out of his room. He had valuable things in there that he was fond of. “I’m not marrying you. Do with that as you will, you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

This was most certainly not the Steven that she had left all those years ago. It took Hope a second to collect herself, to steel herself. No one had spoken to her in such a way in quite a while. Her brain screamed at her that damage control needed to be done but she was not sure how. In what way? What did she say?

Hope’s brain screamed at her that the plan was failing, everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen this way and now she was failing horrendously. What did she do? How could she fix this?

Pricks of pain came from her fists as her nails dug into her palms. Telling Hope that when she unclenched her fists, she would see blood. “You have to marry me!”

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

Across the expanse of his desk, Steve remained calm. Almost to the point of uncaring and such demeanor was reflected in his words. In the way his broad shoulders shrugged and how he rubbed his rough cheek, as if that were more interesting.

“I do not need or want your assistance for anything, forget that video. There is no reason for me to be ashamed of it.”

“Steven! Listen!”

He could see the desperation on her face, hear it in her voice and after so long, he wished he could say that it was rewarding. He wished that he could say it made him feel better after everything that had happened.

It didn’t.

There was just nothing. Little more than cold numbness. Steve felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

It reminded him of his father. He hated when he felt that way, when he thought of his father. There was no one on this earth that Steve loathed more. It was his very purpose for being, to not be his father. To end that cycle. To let it die with him.

Most irritably, he shifted in his seat. His eyes found the picture of you both on his desk from a trip to Scotland.

Hints of his father swirled with every syllable only furthering his inner revulsion with himself, his genes and heritage.

“When you left, I did not officially break our engagement as a common courtesy to your father. No more no less. I am a king. You cannot compel me to do anything.”

Pools of blue found Hope again though. A little bit of serene malice hovered between them.

“If you continue to be an annoyance, I will. I am a king now. I have a country to govern. I do not have time for the childish games and pursuits that occupy the western families.”

“Steven this is serious! I could go to prison! In India!”

May his ancestors help him, his first initial response would have been to remind her of her place, remind her of how he should be addressed.

His Majesty.

Exactly as his father would, he swore he heard his father’s voice in his ear.

“You have to help me out! I’m begging you! I don’t care about that other woman. You can have all the mistresses you want!”

A peek down at his watch told Steve that he had minutes to wrap this up and go collect you. Minutes. He had minutes to regain his sanity before he saw his mother.

Minutes.

“Steven!”

Standing from his chair, he shook his head. Doing his best to silence the sound of his father telling him he was not good enough, was not worthy, was not fit to rule. His voice was soft because Steve would not yell like that man. “No Hope. I’m sorry, but no. You remind me of my father. You make me feel like him. You bring him back to life and I cannot live with his ghost. So no. You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions like the rest of us.”

Her eyes went wild.

Steve could see it and was glad he wasn’t within reach of her. He watched her grab a Fabergé Egg from the end of his desk.

Colorful glass accented in gold with rubies around the middle. It fit in her hand but only just, being the size of an ostrich egg and then it went soaring through the air where it smashed loudly into a wall. Denting the dark wood and shattering. Smashing into dozens and dozens of colorful pieces that fell to the floor.

Having felt the very loss of hope itself, she turned to set her storm on him. “You’ll regret this, Your Majesty.” Before turning and leaving, slamming his office door behind her as hard as possible. Leaving Steve with the sound of his father telling him that he wasn’t worthy.

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

A swipe or two of lipstick always gave you the courage you needed in any occasion. But then again, this was not merely any occasion. This was lunch with your boyfriends mother to officially meet her and get to know her, because you were in a serious committed relationship with her son. Because you loved her son.

Oh, and her son was the king, so there were expectations on that already plus with her being the Queen Mother, that was sorta already an expectation of its own.

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

You wanted to look your best because the Queen Mother always looked immaculate. But you also didn’t want to risk getting lipstick on your teeth. Leading you to peer once more into the bathroom mirror.

No. No lipstick. If you put on lipstick you’d be thinking about your lipstick and you needed to focus on making a good impression.

Otherwise, your makeup looked fabulous. Really. Five stars. Two thumbs up.

This had you stuffing your makeup back into your purse and kinda sorta looking up when the bathroom door opened, shut and was locked. Because really. Why would the door be locking?

In the art deco styled bathroom, Steve’s form was very clear and your eyebrows shot up.

Luckily, you were alone, considering how beyond pissed off he looked. One hundred and ten percent not fit to have lunch with his mother. Not with him in this condition.

You had no idea what happened, but something had happened.

He crossed the red and white marble tiled floor. Walked past the gilded edged stalls and stained-glass doors to where you stood at one of four sinks with bronze fixtures and ornately framed mirrors.

To be honest, it was your favorite bathroom of all time. Your Instagram was full of pictures of this bathroom, selfies in this bathroom, up-close pictures of the stained glass.

“Are you ok?”

Beneath his smoothly shaven face, his jaw twitched. “Fine. Are you ready?”

He was tense enough you wouldn’t have been shocked if his joints started to pop, or his teeth cracked from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Seeing him like this was a no go for Queen Sarah. Everyone knew that she hated to see her son like this and at first you never knew why, not until someone had told you that her husband had the same mannerisms. Steve’s father done the same thing when he had been angry.

While it was common knowledge that Steve was not his father, Steve would never hit his mother.

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

Having Steve like this was not how you wanted this first lunch with his mother to go. Not one bit. Both of them needed to be on cloud fucking nine. Meaning you were going to have to do something.

“Almost,” was what you told him. A plan already set into motion as you grabbed a few paper towels from the bronze dish that held them between sinks.

One last peek at your hair and you were set. Purse in hand. You stepped on over to press your lips to the flat firm line that was Steve’s mouth. “Could you hold this for me?”

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

Whether it was from love or trust, or he was too angry over whatever? No one would ever know.

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

You acted as if you were going to check your pumps and instead, set down the paper towels so you could kneel at his feet. Before Steve even had a second to think about it, you had his pants unbuttoned, unzipped and down around his knees. Knowing that the king went commando that morning worked seamlessly into your plan.

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my purse with both hands, Your Majesty.”

Though soft, his size was still above average. His penis was solid. Thick. A pink tip peeked out beneath foreskin that was stretched over his member. Soft as velvet, you kissed his slit as you pushed his foreskin up to reveal his shaft.

“Remember the first time I ever saw your dick?”

You sank down on his soft flesh after, sucking him in till nearly all of him fit in your mouth. It rarely happened. Only when he wasn’t erect. When Steve was erect, it wasn’t physically possible unless you unhinged your jaw and didn’t have a gag reflex.

“Oh god…” he gasped out at the warm and wet sensation of your mouth closing around him. Cold air on his ass cheeks. Exposed. Vulnerable. His sac hanging heavy and you down on your knees, taking nearly all of him in your mouth.

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

Thinking back, you hummed out thoughtfully, knowing how fantastic the vibrations felt on him. Knowing that the warm softness that was his dick would soon harden. Until then, you enjoyed how you could take him like this. You relished the smell of him, musky and male. Savored how smooth his skin was on your tongue. Reached up and cupped his testicles that hung down for you.

It’d been at a fundraiser.

A black-tie affair for something or another, who could remember?

The two of you had stolen away towards the end, snuck off when everyone was mingling together and socializing. Slightly tipsy or buzzed from the open bar.

Not the two of you.

No.

Both of you had barely drank. Focused instead on getting away so you could steal some moments together. Moments like these. Moments where your hands were all over one another, your mouths hungry for one another. Frantic for that connection between your bodies that nature demanded and you both were trying so hard to make happen.

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

Sucking him deep. Swirling your tongue around him. You could feel Steve starting to thicken up which had you popping off his mouth and surveying the sight of his dick taking on a pinkish hue as blood filled it.

“Are you thinking about it, Your Majesty? About how fucking big your cock is? About how it shocked me? Remember?”

Based alone on the sound that came from Steve, you could deduce that he remembered. Possibly even vividly.

“I remember,” you cooed, licking his pink head and suckling on the end of his dick. Flicking against the hole with your tongue. Massaging his balls. Taking his hardening shaft in your other hand. Needing him to feel only you. Needing him to be here with you. “It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life.”

”You don’t have to.” He had whispered to you in a dark corner of the atrium. Hidden by plants and furniture.

Not that you’d cared.

By that point he had gone down on your countless times and you’d never seen it. Only feeling it through his pants when you’d made-out or groped him, when your bodies rubbed against one another in a frantic urge for completion.

“Jesus Christ Steve! You’re the only man I know who doesn’t want his dick sucked.”

“It’s not that…” he came back with, pausing and finally giving in, allowing you to unzip the black pants of his tux and yank them down. Pull them down and out it popped.

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

Foreskin drawn back to reveal an angry red head smeared with pre-cum.

It was massive, a beast, the hugest dick you’d ever laid eyes on and from on your knees, in a ballgown, made up to feel like a princess. You gasped. You straight up gasped like you were a teenage girl seeing your very first penis. Albeit, the one that was so full of blood it bobbed eye level with you, pointing upwards, was considerably more impressive and probably five inches longer than that first ever dick, easy. As you didn’t exactly have a tape measure on you for comparison.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, well aware that your eyes were wide and mouth was very likely a perfect O. “It’s so big! It’s like the biggest I’ve ever seen! Steve your dick is huge! What do you feed it?”

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

“I’m sorry, I know. It can be uncomfortable to give me oral sex. You really don’t have to. I don’t expect.”

But you had cut him off with grabby hands wrapping around his erection, pushing up his foreskin and licking the salty jizz that was starting to ooze out. “Shut up, Your Majesty. Tell me how you want it.” In your ministrations you had lifted up his generous manhood and set eyes upon the heavy balls that hung down between his thighs. “Holy Canada! You have a set of balls to match. You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have fitting those in my mouth.”

When you finally ripped your eyes away from his sexual organ, you shook your head and admonished him severely. “I cannot believe you’d keep this from me!”

Exactly how you knew Steve liked, you sucked on his head and played with the tip of your tongue on his hole. You took him as deep as you could as his erection grew harder and harder in your mouth. Tracing your tongue along the sides and pumping him with your hand until his girth grew so wide, you were unable to touch your fingertips around him.

Up and down you sank on his cock. Till he was rigid beneath your lips and you drug your teeth along at times to heighten the sensation.

Slurping. Squeezing his balls. Hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing any salty release that began to dribble out. You savored the sight of his fingers clenching your purse tightly and his eyes screwed shut.

Between languid trips up and down his length, you pulled off to lick his blunt tip with the flat of your tongue.

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

At first, you didn’t think he would or could answer, which was fine. Your attention was on the round edge of his organ. Licking it. Flicking it with your tongue. Playing with it till you sank back down.

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

“Thinking about that night. The night I took your maidenhead.”

Your maidenhead?

Well, that was a trip to past. It sent your eyes up and your mouth back off him so you could speak without a mouth full of dick. “Mmm. Thinking about how you went crazy? How you went all feral and popped my cherry?”

In your hand his penis twitched.

It was too perfect an opportunity to not pounce upon it.

If you couldn’t make him come from saying these filthy disgusting true things to him, did you really deserve to marry this man? “Your Majesty? Does it turn you on to think about my having been a virgin? About how you’re the only man to ever be in my body? Do you remember how tight I was? How hard you had to push to break my hymen?”

Little motions came from Steve. Whether he knew it or not. He was making small thrusts into your mouth that you hummed around, sucked on.

Something hit the floor.

Hands were on your head, fingers were in your hair. A wicked smile curled over your lips and Steve was methodically pumping into your mouth.

He sounded strained. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Felt so good. You’re so good to me. My angel. You were so tight.” He declared, announced, would have shouted to the heavens if he was capable. Each word came out in cadence. Almost in a chant. “Felt so good. Feels so good still. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.” On top of feeling you sucking him deep. Paired with your fingers holding his testicles tight. Mixed with your fist wrapped around his base. It was a glorious storm coming together to make him shatter.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come like right now.

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

“Love you. Love your body. Love being in you. So warm and tight and mine. All mine. All of you is mine. Want you. Want to fill you. Want want want.”

Gasping out. His breath gone. All air left his lungs when Steve climaxed into your mouth. A pitched noise did come that was followed with his fingers pulling your face against him, his pelvis pushing into you. A moan that made him weak in the knees followed that told him you were pleased with him. You were happy.

If he died in the next moment, he would have been a happy man.

All Steve could feel was pleasure. It consumed him body. It whited out his mind. It made his balls empty into the warmth of your mouth, till he was certain that nothing remained.

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

Hopelessly devoted, Steve watched you drag your tongue around him to clean him up. Catching the last few spurts of ejaculate on your tongue before you showed him, then swallowed his seed.

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

He dropped down onto his knees and he kissed you. Mindless. Unable to think about anything else other than your mouth and being lucky enough to have convinced you to be his woman. Steve kissed you deeply, uncaring about the fact he could taste himself, unconcerned when his tongue curled around yours that he might have gotten some of his own ejaculate. His Majesty didn’t care.

Nor was he overly concerned about his knees being on the cold marble tile when he groaned against your mouth. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you to the moon and back.”

[aziraphales-library]

do you have any possessive aziraphale fic recs? not super dark, but just like more protective of crowley?

Here are some protective Aziraphale fics for you...

One Wild and Precious Life by syrupfactory (E)

After living only on planets, Dr. Azi Fell is eager to begin a new life and career in space. Eden Station doesn’t have the best reputation, but he couldn’t be more excited to be there. On his first day at the infirmary, he meets Anthony Crowley, a man with gorgeous auburn hair and fascinating tattoos, who oddly refuses pain meds ... and quickly turns out to be Azi's most frequently injured patient.

Tarnished Gold and Burning Eyes by ranguvar82 (M)

Heavenly Labs is the pride and joy of Tadfield. It sits high on the hill, white and beautiful. But beauty is only skin deep. This place has an ugly secret that goes right down to the bone.

Unlucky Omens by HolyCatsAndRabbits (M)

When Anthony Crowley finally gets a Guardian Angel at the age of 48, he thinks perhaps that his lifelong streak of bad luck is ending. Until he learns that in three months, he’s destined to either save the world or die trying. It doesn’t help that the angel Aziraphale is the most beautiful person Crowley has ever seen, as well as a ridiculous, fussy, rebellious hedonist. Crowley’s not surprised to find himself falling for him. After all, it’s just one more bit of bad luck to fancy your Guardian Angel.

In Silence Our Secrets Lie by IneffableToreshi (M)

A Good Omens AU which takes place in the year leading up to the Apocalypse. Aziraphale has been alone on Earth for 6000 years. He loves the planet, the humans, all the wonders therein, but as the only ethereal being on the planet (as far as he's aware) and a misfit among the other angels of Heaven, he's been terribly, painfully lonely.

Everything changes the day he senses a presence: a demonic presence that is in pain, as lonely and miserable as the angel is, and is hanging on his last thread of life after being tortured for an untold length of time. Aziraphale rescues the dying demon, whose powers and voice have been stolen away from him by a mystical artefact, and vows to protect him and keep him safe.

But what will Aziraphale think when he finds out who was responsible for the demon's imprisonment and why? Not to mention the secret the demon is keeping about who he really is?

The Shelter Of Your Wing, Pt I by RaniyDayDecaf (M)

The mob has marked him for death, and Crowley ends up taking shelter with a bookseller he barely knows. But the bookseller is not what he seems. He might even be more dangerous than what Crowley is running from.

Catch Me, I’m Falling (Again) by SnakesandTea (T)

Crowley has PTSD from his fall. A thunderstorm triggers him. Aziraphale does his best to care for his demon.

- Mod D

[authoressskr]

Tracking Death and Magic, pt 2

Characters: f!Reader [known in this fic as Duchess], Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, mentions of Dr. Strange, OFCs

Warnings: Language, death, angst, and no Beta   ::    Notes: this was written for @captain-kelli’s #ckcomebacktour – WELCOME BACK!!    ::   Word Count: 10,414

Mythological + Fairy Tale Creatures AU feat. Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Bucky, Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Steve, Giant!Hulk side Bruce, Born Witch!Wanda, Hellhound mix!Reader

Someone is hunting down those with Fae blood in New York. And no one can figure out why or who is behind the crimes. So higher ups in the city hand the case over to SHIELD, who deals with the more difficult supernatural cases. But even after two weeks, this small elite team can’t seem to figure out where the person or persons responsible will strike or the reasoning behind it. Anyone with a drop of Fae blood is scared…scared of being kidnapped or killed. Time to call in some outside help.

Prompt: [*In Part 1*] “All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.”

[ Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, translate, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. 18+ ONLY PLEASE, all content providers don’t want serious repercussions from underage interactions, myself included. ]

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and *very* appreciated! -+-

Part One

You could feel it as you walked up to the sidewalk where Cyrus had been killed. The now dried and cleaned sidewalk not hiding it’s dark shadows from you in the waning late afternoon light.

The creeping, underhanded power of the Seelie Court brushing against you.

The poison is a prominent smell to your hound side still since it’s only been a day and a half. Cyrus’s soul hasn’t lingered, so that at least is a blessing, but the conversation with your uncle and this fresh site is putting your nerves on the very edge. You can ‘see’ the faint magic outline where he died, you knew he’d be wearing his homemade medallion to ward off evil. Swallowing, you kneel where his feet would have been, reaching out with your magic.

The flashes that echo painfully through your mind make you gasp.

The cloaked figure is stealing magic. Taking it violently. To him, the more violent and quick, the better. It honestly just makes your stomach roll, the saliva building in your closed and clenched mouth.

But why? You can taste the lighter magic associated with the Seelie Court - the Court of Light - the kind that humans and others often think of when they think of the fair folk. The court thought, it doesn’t deal with humans or others unless absolutely needed…

When you told Hades you suspected a member of the higher courts on your little walk, you hadn’t anticipated to be able to feel it. The boots, the glistening silver swords, the escape when you had moved a forgotten tiny part of the sithen under the alley -- now it all makes a lot more sense now. The shiver that runs down your spine at the implications this creates. May the God and Goddess spare all those innocents involved, you pray quickly.

A henchman for the shining Seelie Court, sweet baby Jesus. What had you gotten yourself into?? What had SHIELD stumbled into??

The residual death is quick, but still it steals into you, taking away what little baited breath you had. Feeling the tears prickle your eyes as you try to figure out these new pieces of the puzzle.

Hades can’t help you - Gods can’t interfere with other pantheons businesses, good or bad.

Hades can’t save you from the other half of yourself.

It was something you had always known in the back of your mind, but the harsh slap of it hurt more than the death and falling pieces of this horrible plot. But...just maybe there could be a light in this cave of fae intrigue and murder. There are others whom you can save.

The three stolen wouldn’t be taken to the sithen, that would be too obvious of their involvement. Plus, they were fae and thus could leave as long as not put into a dungeon there and theoretically had enough power and know-how to do so. But had the cloaked figure been draining them, you weren’t sure if they could get out or away.

So, that would mean they were still somewhere close by.

The last traces of magic from the murder, Cyrus’s own traces, and your hellhound senses in overdrive to track everything - you’re drowning as the sun sinks just a tad lower in the sky, creating the beginnings of the lovely orange autumn color you adore. Fall was closer than you remembered. You can vaguely hear your name being said, like being underwater almost. Then you can smell sage, lemon and juniper - the sweet smells of the entrance to the Underworld.

The way the newcomer says your name grounds you, while Bucky calling your name brings you closer to the surface - your mate...Bucky brings you back to reality. And he’s protective and bristling slightly at the other man who is holding your arm’s firmly.

You’re looking up at the slightly blurry face of a traditionally handsome Greek man, all muscle and blurry smile, with thick black hair and sweet honey brown eyes.

“I hate your human disguise sometimes,” You grunt and turn to plop down on your ass as Bucky watches as the man lean in and proceed to lick from your chin up to your hairline. “Okay, okay...thank you Cerb,” You shove his chest gently to get him to release you, reaching for Bucky’s hand automatically. “This is my mate, Bucky. Don’t snap at him.” Cerberus gives you puppy dog eyes, his nerves calming down slightly to hold his form better. So at least now it was one face instead of the three blurry ones superimposed over each other.

“Did you just say Cerby?!” Wanda sounds astonished.

“As in Cerberus?” Natasha questions calmly. The guardian to the Underworld stands up and he’s visibly excited looking from you to Natasha and Wanda.

“Yes,” You coo. “This is my best friend in the whole world and Underworld, Cerberus. Cerberus, this is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers is his best friend. Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson. Wanda Maximoff and her twin, Pietro.”

“Pleasure,” His deep voice almost has an echo to it. “Lord said you needed looking after, pup. He was right. Too close.”

“I know,” You sigh out as your hand subconsciously clenches Bucky’s a little tighter even after he helps you up.

“No,” Cerberus growls. “Close.”

“Fucking great,” You growl out in reply, anger rising.

“See anything?” Phil asks, forehead furrowed just so. You sigh again, anger dissipating as quickly as it had boiled up.

“We are in a shit ton of trouble.”

“We are aware of that, kid,” Steve states, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

“Nooo. Like real shit ton of trouble. Seelie Court trouble.” Phil lets out a string of curses as Clint’s stance gets more rigid. “The cloaked asshole is working for the Seelie Court. I can taste the residual light magic. And he’s stealing magic. That’s why he’s been killing most of them. Kidnapping the more powerful ones to drain them continuously, I’m guessing.”

“He can’t take them back to the golden sithen,” Phil states, following where you’re leading. “So they’re still in the area.”

“I think he took them where there’s more greenery and nature, it would make it more comfortable for him. Someplace secretive to drain and hide them.”

“Central Park,” Bucky reasons. “It makes the most sense. It would be easy for him to hide them there, especially if he was -” He stops as you start exhibiting nervous energy beside him, enough to upset his wolf and your scent to change. “What is it?”

“Only royalty can move the sithen,” You whisper, eyes focused solely on Phil.

“I have to let Fury know…” Phil looks at you with pity and sadness appearing in his blue eyes. “Everything.”

“I figured as much when I tasted their magic,” face contorting with a pained expression is all Bucky sees on your lovely face as you whisper the words defeatedly. He’s on edge now with your changing emotions and scents, trying to keep his eyes from shifting too much or his fangs popping out to prepare for the impending fight, the need to protect and soothe you almost overwhelming him internally.

“I’m sorry,” He offers, moving forward to squeeze your shoulder sympathetically, withdrawing the phone from his pant pocket as your free hand shoots forward to grip his wrist tightly, a plea written plainly for all to see on your almost panicking face.

“Please Phil...delay it til the morning. I can’t...they’ll -” Bucky and Steve can taste the fear that’s rolling off you now, raising his hackles as Cerberus eyes him with interest before returning his gaze to Duchess.

“I won’t let your other side harm you,” Cerby snarls, his handsome olive face contorted with anger as you wince hard. Bucky tugs you into him as much as he can with your iron grip still on Phil, soothing the pacing and snarling wolf in his head as much as he is soothing you.

That’s why you said you should be better at wording things, Bucky thinks to himself, nuzzling his nose into your hair, fangs no longer a worry as your scent shifts yet again to worry. Only now he realizes you are concerned about how he sees you.

“Do you care I’m a werewolf and vampire crossbreed 100 year old plus former assassin?” Bucky mumbles softly against your head, making you pull away to look up at him, shock and confusion making you wrinkle your forehead at your mate. Your scent shifts to calm Bucky now, eyes tearing up just a tad as his wolf shakes and settles down. Mate needs reassurance.

“No!” You release Phil’s wrist to cup Bucky’s cheek, thumb moving over the course hairs of his beard. “I don’t care what you are. You’re mine, James.” The light in Bucky’s eyes stun you with his smile, his eyes crinkling beautifully. Just radiating his happiness in that simple little motion of his elated smile, your inner hound almost dopey at the tenderness your mate is exuding.

“Then why would I care if you're half fae?” He presses his forehead down against yours, making you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling. “You’re my mate, Duchess. I don’t care what you are, as long as I get to keep you. Understand, doll?”

“I just don’t want to be known as one of them...as one of the Shining Court. That’s not me.” You keep your eyes squeezed close, taking comfort in your mate’s touch and his surrounding scent, blocking out everything but Bucky.

“You moving that fast with that sword was hot though,” Bucky rumbles out, making laughter just peel out of you, opening your eyes to be met with those intensive cerulean orbs.

“You’re too good,” You copy his statement from the closet earlier, smiling up at the most important person in your life.

But that comment does make you think, yanking your forehead away from Bucky to snap back to Coulson.

“Phil! It’s for my father!”

“You sure?”

“It has to be! Only royalty can move the sithen! The High Prince has probably a quarter of the fae power I do and his son probably barely enough to magically open a doorway in the sithen.”

“Wait,” Clint starts, twirling a toothpick between his front teeth before pointing it at you and continuing. “So you’re a fae princess?!”

You wince again, Bucky’s metal fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt bottom to stroke your skin to ease the emotions swirling in and around you - at least they are much more in control and subdued than minutes ago. “Technically, yes.” You admit in a defeated whisper. “My grandmother is the Queen of the Seelie Court.”

“Which is why Peter said you were ordering the cloaked man to answer you,” Steve states, rolling his shoulders to relieve some tension. Too late you realize that since Steve and Bucky are actually pack that he was getting some diluted effects of your emotional rollercoaster just now just by being so close to the two of you. ‘Sorry,’ You mouth to him as he gives you a soft smile in return.

“So that’s why the ground shook?” Bucky asked, forehead slightly furrowed at Phil then down to you. “How can you move the whole sithen?”

“Oh, I can’t. I couldn’t do that unless I was Queen and would need a whole lot of blood magic to back it up to move it. And honestly, the sithen is a living thing, so it would need to be...um...convinced. But moving pieces of it - especially forgotten or ‘dead’ spaces that the court don’t access - is fairly easy if you know what you are doing. Hades is Lord of the Underworld. Is the “Underworld” just under Greece? No. It’s everywhere AND a specific place. The same properties apply to the sithen,” You shrug as if it hasn’t really occurred to you the schematics of it all.

“Ahh, sort of like the Sanctum Sanctorum of Dr. Strange’s,” Pietro supplies, tapping a finger against his chin with a small grin.

“Yes and no.”

“I was thinking more like the jet,” Wanda supplies to her twin who frowns at her.

“So if Dr. Strange had a Sanctum Sanctorum jet?”

“Jesus. Christ.” Coulson and Natasha mutter loudly in sync, sighing and turning away slightly from the twins and Clint who is nodding along with their continued discussion.

“So could you find the piece of the sithen in Central Park?” Steve moves the conversation back to the kidnapped victims, you watching him unclench and clench his right hand slightly. You move a little more into Bucky and reach for Steve’s right hand. His head snaps over to you almost comically fast, while you just try to exude a calming energy. Bucky whispers a soft ‘thank you’ against your temple before gently reaching over to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. You can almost feel Steve’s blood pressure drop once both you and Bucky are calm and now working on calming him.

“Yeah, I could. I’ve scented the magic signature he’s used both attacking me and at the crime scenes, so shouldn’t be too hard to locate it. I mean, I won’t be exactly spot on, but will be close enough to be able to move the sithen bit to me and manipulate it open hopefully.”

“So that’s the play,” Natasha states as Phil whips out his cell, causing another spike in anxiety to roll through you, but Bucky and Steve both quickly whisk it away with their touch.

“Yes, sir,” Phil states evenly. “We may have located the kidnapped parties. I request a team to subtly clear and surround Central Park. Yes, sir.” His right eyelid gives one lone twitch. “Yes, all Avengers to the Park. We are dealing with Seelie Court involved matters. Yes, she is here and will be leading us to the kidnapped hostages. Affirmative. Will do, sir.” He hangs up to find everyone staring at him. “Tony will be bringing everyone’s gear and then we’ll head to Central Park. If you have any requests or needs, please bother Stark. I have a whole ops to coordinate.” A black suv pulls up behind him, which no one even flinches at. “I’ll meet you all in an hour. Stark will know the location.”

“Onward to probable death!” Pietro mutters with fake enthusiasm and you frown at him, Cerberus moving closer to you until his arm is brushing. The scent of sage, juniper and lemon - overlapped with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, cedar and a soft ocean breeze, things distinctly Bucky to you, even the scent of orange faintly coming from Steve - do nothing to help the pit in your belly.

How true, you muse morbidly, glancing up into sad honey brown eyes. You can both catch the faint, trace smell of death.

And you both know it’s from you.

-----*****-----*****-----

Tony had brought you several SHIELD jumpsuits in various colors: gray, blue and black, smirking as you had raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, little hellhound. They’ll all form to fit you. Bucky and Peter mentioned swords, so I brought some thigh holsters as well as a back holster, since I didn’t know the length of your swords. Natasha has extra guns aboard the jet if you are into that. Also, we don’t have time for you two to be frisky, so -”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bucky had growled from behind him, just making Tony smile wider. Seeing Bucky in his hero suit was a whole different sexy than last night and this morning. Well, you now understood why Tony was having concerns about you two because - dear gods did you want Bucky to bend you over something and take you with that suit on. You’d be equally happy to just drop to your knees and thank your mate for this look. Bucky obviously can see and sense the changes as you are basically drooling and clenching your thighs, while having an iron grip on the dark blue suit you had been favoring.

“Remember!” Tony says loudly while shaking a finger at you before Steve comes up beside Bucky and herds the grinning man from the room where you’re surrounded by suits and weapons.

“Eyes are glowing again, doll,” Bucky purrs as he comes to a halt before you.

“Can’t help it, it’s an emotional reaction most of the time,” You breath out, a smile playing on the corner of his lips at your answer. “Used to just do it when I was extremely pissed off. Now apparently it decides to pop up whenever I’m -”

“Horny?”

“Focusing. On. My. Mate.” You insist as he rumbles out a laugh, bending forward to kiss your forehead sweetly. You tilt your head up to catch his eye again, giving him a small smile as you reach out to take his flesh hand. “But just FYI, I can smell you’re horny too. And them pants is tiiight.” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you so tight against his chest that the buckles dig into you a little, just making you all the more riled up.

“Mate,” Bucky’s voice is part plea and warning in it’s roughness after you two pull apart, you nosing along his throat, kissing the skin where your mark should adorn.

“You could leave to let me get dressed…?”

“Where the hell is the fun in that, doll? Huh?” Both of you are chuckling, touching each other as much as possible but struggling to keep it PG.

“Bucky, I know you don’t want to bring this up…”

 “Don’t.” 

“But this could be it, ya know? So I need you to sort of brace yourself if it does.” His back is now ramrod straight and his jaw clenched tight, but holding your gaze.

“I won’t let it happen.” The determination from your first meeting is back, but you can only muster the softest look in reply, letting the suit fall to the ground as you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetheart,” You coo gently, watching the sadness dance in his eyes that he’s trying hard to hide. “I adore you. I trust you inexplicably. I would happily spend the rest of my life with you. To mate you, to marry you...to have a little baby that looks just like you, that’s all I want. You deserve some peace and so. much. love.” His hands are gripping tight onto your waist, you can feel the fingertips digging in as you continue. “But you know I’m marked for death, Bucky. They’ve tried most of my life to circumvent it, stop it, undo it. But death comes for me regardless. I need you to not pull away from everyone if that happens. You’ll need them. Please.”

“I don’t - I don’t want to deal with that. I can’t. I can’t lose you too. I said I would protect you and keep you safe. I’m no Alpha if I don’t try. I’m no mate if I don’t try.” You’re at a standstill, both now in emotional turmoil over this topic, trying not to let it bleed into the other. He presses his forehead against yours hard, staring into each other’s eyes. “I love you,” He whispers and it’s all you ever wanted to hear. Right now, you had all wanted right here - a wonderful mate who loved you and would try to move heaven and earth for you, who didn’t care what you were. One of the most beautiful men in the whole world who looked at you like the sun rose and set by your whim. The whole thing was unfathomable.

“I love you, Bucky,” You breathe out in reply, longing for any other outcome but the one you know is coming. “And I will love you as long as you live.” Bucky makes a noise in the back of his throat, a couple tears sliding down his cheeks as yours begin to fall freely, letting him wrap his arms so securely around you as his beautiful blue jacket absorbs your quiet sobs.

-----*****-----*****-----

The sun is nearly set, the sky streaked a hundred hues of dark pink and red as New York slowly descends into darkness.

Bucky is standing right beside you, outfit bringing out his eyes as he surveys the scene stoically. You’d chosen the dark blue jumpsuit to match his, arms brushing subtly as you stand just outside the magic lines - and sight lines from the sithen - of Central Park.

Although you can’t see them, you can vaguely sense the score of SHIELD agents and Avengers scattered on the edges of the treelines. But you can ‘see’ the edge of the piece of sithen just shy of the Azalea Pond at the center of the Ramble. Bucky had been the one with his tablet naming things off to you - you had only moved to New York two years ago after all - trying to help you narrow down areas where it could have been. You wish you had had the time for him to show you around New York, around Brooklyn, and places that still stood from when he was younger.

Cerberus is on the other side of the pond, should the cloaked figure try to escape, swathed in the grip of Underworld magic to keep him invisible and thus much more easy to herd or pounce.

Wanda is piggybacking off your abilities, twined with yours temporarily so she could sense the heartbeats of the victims now that you had a location. Sam is in the trees to the left of the pond with Peter, Steve and Tony on the right while Clint, Natasha and Pietro cut off any other possible exit points. Bruce is staying by the ambulances, ready to Hulk out should the need arise, although you could tell from his face he was radiating the bright hope it absolutely would not.

Any way the cloaked figure ran, he’d be funneled where the Avengers chose. There would be no escape. As a failsafe, Pietro would be the only one to engage with him except you, since he would be the most able to take him on with the fae speed.

You drag yourself back to reality, turning to gaze over at Bucky and steeling yourself with one last deep breath before starting down the short path to the Azalea Pond.

“Be safe for me, doll,” Bucky says softly, almost as soft as the small breeze suddenly around you two. You manage to nod, throat closing up again. The fair folk do not lie. It had been beaten into you, quite literally, when you were little at court. You want nothing more than to lie to Bucky in that moment. To reassure him you will be safe for him. But the fair folk do not lie.

Good thing you are not solely fair folk. You reach for his hand, grasping just his flesh fingertips in your grip and squeezing them hard. It’s a millisecond in time, but it seems like one of those Lord of the Rings moments that are in that slow, dramatic, longing-filled motion. “I’ll do my best, handsome.” Dropping his hand before you lose your resolve, you take the barely visible path towards the pond. Your magic is swirling with Wanda’s, your senses all in overdrive - so much so you can’t even register the smell of the flowers blooming along the landmark.

Pursing your lips, you whistle a simple five note tune that fae had used for time beyond memory.

From behind you comes that deep, craggly voice, “Greetings, highness.”

“Greetings, servant,” He gives a little hiss at the title you bestow. “SHIELD has sent me to inform you that if you cooperate, you will not be sentenced to death.”

“They are mostly human. I do not fear the humans.”

“You are not wise to not fear them,” You give a pregnant pause, making sure you give that haughty look the court loves to disperse. “If you do not accept this offer, I am to inform you that I, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos, will be judge, jury and - if need be - executioner.” He pushes back his cloak hood back, allowing you to finally see his scaled face. He was probably one of very few left over of those lizard scaled dwarves who stayed closer to the caverns around lakes and seas when humans first emerged as semi-civilized, with beautiful almost translucent rainbow sheened scales around his eyes and cheeks, his mouth set in a thin line with no lips.

“I was damned from the get go, princess.”

“We are only as we choose to be - it doesn’t have to be that way,” You insist, leaning a little forward, softening your eyes. Even if you disliked court life, the snobs of court who’s magic had begun to dwindle long before you were born, and how you were treated there - he was the same as you; a discarded fae. He doesn’t reply, though there is a flicker of something in his eyes, simply just unsheathes his double swords and gestures to you with his chin.

“Prepare, half breed,” Although his insult has less venom than the alley last night, you huff out a sigh at his tone. Like he’s just going through the motions. Asshat.

You shift your feet just so, straightening your spine as you wait for his move. Physically you are in that moment, but your power shifts the sithen opening to the side where Steve and Tony are waiting, causing the cloaked man to hiss, baring slightly sharpened front teeth at you. “Little bitch!” And his steel meets yours. “We will both die for this!” He snarls as he tries to drive you back towards the trees and brush opposite the pond, you holding the line as you wait for Wanda to signal you that the people had been recovered.

“I’ll deal with them when the time comes,” You growl low, blocking his blades yet again with a heavy clink, shifting just so that you can reach for Bucky’s favorite knife at the small of your back, tinged with the poison that your cloaked friend had been favoring and stabbing it into his side and piercing his lung with a squelch.

“The poison will do nothing to me,” He spits at you as you twirl your wrist to disarm him of one of the swords and slide Bucky’s knife back into its sheath.

“It will now. Dr Banner mixed it with another, a heavy iron involved one - infused with belladonna - to make you human slow,” You lean in as you block another wide swing from him with the one sword left, smiling wide. “And heal human slow.” The whole of Central Park shakes as you show your hand.

“No! NO!” He screams and hisses, attempting to swing his meaty fists at you now that he was without a weapon.

“I am still my grandmother’s first born grandchild. I am still the High Prince’s first born. I am a Princess of the Seelie High Court.” You lean in as your tone becomes more malicious with each word, watching true fear alight in his mossy green eyes. “And with all the inbreeding and decline for the last century,” You straighten up, your blue flames engulfing you as he attempts to scurry away from you, shielding his eyes against the light you emanate as he falls on his ass in the dense brush and dirt. “Let’s face it - I am probably the most powerful fae aside from the Queen of the Seelie and the King of the Unseelie.” Leaning down, fisting your hand in his cloak, you yank him back upright, snarling as your power dances behind your eyes, careful still to at least to not burn him with your flames. But watching him flinch at the heat, the basic fear all animals have towards a large flame, sets you more alight at the taste of that fear. “And absolutely the wrong person to piss off!”

“Spare me! Please!!” He screams, more high pitched than you had imagined, nearly making you wince as you see the red sparks above the tree line and see a blue clad shadow moving along the treeline coming closer to you. Pietro blurs past you, slapping old iron cuffs on the cloaked man, which sends him quite literally howling and screeching from the burn of the metal. 

Your flames give off a few large flickers before they begin to die down when Pietro says that they’ve gotten the kidnapped people to the ambulance they had on stand by, Bucky coming down the path towards you with a small smile on his lips as your eyes meet. Your magic shrinks back towards you, the weight of all the magic and your now overworked abilities settling back into you, your shoulders sagging a little with relief. It wasn’t over, but once your grandmother learned about your father and half-brother then she would be the one to end it.

The look in his cobalt eyes shift quickly, widening and moving to glare directly over your shoulder, his mouth moving in slow motion as he begins to barrel towards you, you begin to turn - only to feel the jerk of your body going forward instead. A glance downward shows a shiny red tip of one of the cloaked man’s swords protruding from just under your breasts, when you hear the mournful howl echo in and around your ears - only to realize it’s three distinct howls. The tang of blood spills into your mouth in a surprised gasp, turning slightly to see who has murdered you.

Your half brother’s hand is shaking slightly as he backs away from you, surprise written on both your faces as the scent of death finally fully fills your nose.

“I never thought -” You wheeze out, taking a few shaky steps towards your half-sibling as Bucky slides to a stop before you, his boots kicking up the fallen green leaves on the grass, both hands grasping your hips firmly as his eyes wander all over your body and face, tears already tracking down his cheeks. “You would have the balls!” You finish with another wheeze, the metallic taste much stronger now.

Bucky turns you to face him as Tony and Peter keep your half-brother from escaping, the darkening greenery of the world around you narrowing down to just Bucky. It’s a beautiful world to be relegated to actually.

“No. NO. Come on, doll. You - you gotta stay with me.” His voice is raw sounding, like he’s trying to not be loud, his metal hand putting pressure on the front wound as if it would help. His forehead is shoved against yours, your entire gaze narrowed to his blue eyes and his damp cheeks as he pulls you into his lap, collapsing the both of you to the ground. It’s funny almost to you in the moment...like you can still hear his loud, pitiful howl like a haunting melody behind everything he’s saying. “Doll, you gotta...come on, gotta fight. I need you to fight. Cerberus, he - he went to get Hades and Hecate. They’ll fix it. Just hold on til they get here, okay?”

“I love you soo much, James Buchanan Barnes,” You’re heartbroken to watch him see your bloody bottom lip tremble, and the color seeping from your face. You can see him weighing all his options through his tears, trying to move your tired hand up to touch him, to comfort him.

“I love you too, babydoll, but please God, please … just stay with me.” The choked up sound of his voice makes you want to cry for causing him this pain. No amount of forewarning could have prepared you for this feeling - the feeling of slowly breaking and killing your mate.

“Mate,” is the last thing you manage to get out before you just go limp in his arms, those jewel eyes he loves so much already just staring up at the first stars twinkling in the sky unseeing. In the back of his mind, his vampire side offers up the idea which he swore to God he would never do. But all too late.

The howl that rips from his throat is pure misery and heartache, his body bowed over his mate’s, his grip still holding her in a vice. The blood cloys her scent, furthering his heartbreak.

He looks up, needing Steve on a near visceral level, only to not see anyone at all. Confusion slightly mars his grief, looking over his shoulder and all around the darkened area, but met with no familiar faces or words in his comms. Confusion gives way to his war training, the alertness on it’s highest notch as he scans around, sniffing delicately at the air as the world seems much darker now than it had just been. When he turns back towards the pond, on edge at the very tampered down scents surrounding him, he spots three almost identical women standing there with those dark pink azaleas framing behind them almost like a fresco - just appearing as if from nowhere like Hades had earlier on the street.

“James Barnes,” The one on the left begins, long dark brown hair falling freely to her waist. “We are sorry for your loss,” the one on the right continues, her hair half up in intricate braids. “But now that we have fulfilled our ill-spoken creed,” the middle speaks, all that dark mahogany hair piled atop her hair like a crown, before they all join hands as the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand to attention at the sudden surge of power that surrounds him, his arms tensing as a wave of azalea scent blows around the two of them, bringing Duchess as close to him as possible again. “We will return our little cousin back to you.”

His mouth goes dry, forehead wrinkled in not understanding as he looks down at his mate, her eyes still open and her skin still dampened with that death pallor. Bucky gently uses his metal digits to close her eyelids, grief and nausea rolling through him simultaneously while the ground beside Bucky gives a small shake and splits open, Hades climbing so elegantly and easily from the ground below with Cerberus - in three-headed giant black dog form - with a wispy blue thing dangling from the middle head’s mouth. There isn’t even enough room left in him to be shocked, there is just acceptance of whatever this shit show was.

“Turns out, sometimes you just have to accept Fate and go through it in order to stop it,” Hades murmurs in his deep molasses voice, bending down just so, his long fingers gripping the back of Bucky’s neck loosely. “Will you accept your fate now, Bucky?”

“I’ll do anything for her,” Bucky rasps out with conviction shining in his tear-riddled eyes.

“Splendid,” Hades motions with his free hand for Cerberus to come forward. “You must take a mouthful of this first.” He orders sternly as a beautiful blonde woman, shorter than Duchess and with a more heavy hourglass shape, emerges from the crevice to the Underworld with a black and golden chalice. Bucky marvels at the tiny wild roses popping up in her wake as she walks around Cerberus to stand between himself and Hades. She sniffles as she looks at Duchess, one hand leaving the chalice as she frowns over at the Fates before brushing two fingers down his left cheek to his chin, the warmth from just her fingers seeping quickly into his icy feeling skin. He doesn’t even notice the Fates disappearing just after that, he’s so focused on the goddess before him.

“Remove the sword, Hades.” It’s gone with a wave at the woman’s order, Bucky unconsciously tightening his hold once again on his mate. “Now, Bucky, sweet little honeysuckle boy, take a mouthful of this - but don’t swallow.” She brings the cup to his lips and tips it up. “Now, when Cerberus drops her soul back into her body, kiss her and push all the ambrosia into her mouth. It’ll take a few seconds for her soul to readjust and the ambrosia to heal her before she comes back to consciousness, okay honeysuckle?” Bucky manages a jerky nod, rewarded with a pat to his cheek before she backs up towards Hades, Cerberus giving a huff as he leans down towards Duchess’s body.

“Three. Two. One.” Hades counts down, Cerberus’s light brown eyes locked onto Bucky’s before the middle head gently opens it’s very large jaw and the blue wisp floats down to her body. “Now.” Bucky smashes his lips against hers, feeding the liquid into her mouth with an edge of desperation barely restrained within him.

“Now we wa-” A gasp startles you all, her jewel-toned eyes blinking rapidly as her hands claw at Bucky’s waist where they’re trapped between them, until they’re focused on Bucky. Bucky lets loose a sob as she smiles up at him, blood now gone from her face.

“Hi handsome,” A tiny little cough to clear her throat. “Bucky,” Duchess manages to rasp out before she’s crushed to Bucky’s chest.

“I lost you,” Bucky half gasps/half sobs into her hair, the scent of blood seemingly long gone, a terrible dream from which he can now finally awaken...it was just her again. Just his mate.

“But you found me, handsome.”

Bucky manages to get out a soft chuckle as he pulls back to cup her face in his hands. “You do anything like that again, doll, and I swear I’ll -” She cuts him off with a kiss but he doesn’t miss the smile and silent eyeroll. When they break apart, she brings her hand up to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone repeatedly as Bucky just reveals in the warmth of her fingers and palms against his skin.

“You are mine,” She whispers so damn gently, like a breath of life gently fanning over his lips as her forehead bumps against his softly. Bucky understood this was her sign that everything was alright, that closeness of foreheads pressed together and reading every emotion in each other's eyes. 

“And you are mine,” Bucky affirms, electricity buzzing down his spine before he smiles wide at his mate, happy to see her own smile widen as he does so. “You’re stuck with me for forever now.” She tries to feign a disappointed look and tone, to school her eyes and keep her lips from twitching up in a grin is poorly executed.

“Oh, no. What a terrible thing, Sarge,” It comes out more as a purr, lighting a warmth and fire from within Bucky, elation now bleeding as a scent out of him at this tiny but monumental moment with his mate. A deep voice clearing his throat behind you brings you both a bit back more to the present, Bucky glancing to the left as your smile stays gracing your gorgeous face.

“Welcome back!” The goddess burst out, tears opening flowing down her lovely and soft olive oval face, falling to her knees behind Duchess and throwing her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her fiercely. She even pulls Bucky closer, smoothing a hand up and down his back as she hugs both of them just this side of painful.

“Thank you, theía.” Duchess grunts out from the tight sandwich she’s in, looking over to her uncle. “Theíos, what happened to that little motherfucker?”

Hades stern looking face breaks out in a tiny smile, looking so kindly down at the scene before him as Cerberus’s three heads lap and nuzzle at the three on ground. “He’s still being held on the other plane. And speaking of which, we should return quickly. Hecate might actually kill him and start a bigger conflict than which we already have on our hands.”

“Well that answers some of my questions,” Bucky mutters just behind her right ear, nipping at the earlobe gently as Persephone releases you all, gently wiping away her tears.

“I’ll fill you in as best I can later. After someone fills me in, that is,” Duchess promises with a quick but warm kiss to his lips. Hades helps his wife up, kissing both of her palms and exchanging a long, loving look before extending his hand for Duchess, Bucky shooting up beside her as they each have a hand hold on her and help to steady her as she sways just a touch.

“Much later,” Bucky agrees with the barest hint of a nod, just needing to soothe his mate still. Frankly, just needing to reconnect and optimally be alone with his mate. Hopefully uninterrupted for at least two weeks, a month - two months would be absolutely dreamy and very, very far fetched with all the shit they’ll have to deal with afterwards regarding this case. But Bucky would move whole cities to make good on what she’d said to him aboard the jet too. Finally get him some of that apple pie life that he, Steve and the Commandos had talked about all those years and years ago.

He watches as you roll your neck, gently pushing away one of Cerby’s heads to shake both your arms out before reaching up to finally scratch at each of Cerberus’s heads one by one, kissing at their muzzles with gusto as the giant hellhound wiggles it’s butt with abandon. “I didn’t get that warm of a welcome,” Bucky remarks with a smirk, his mouth breaking into a wider smile at the look she shoots him.

“Because that is something personal you’ll get later on, Sarge,” 

“Geallaidhean, an dannsair beag agam,” Bucky growls softly, making sure to seal it with a deep, hard kiss. Promises, my little dancer. She looks a little flustered when they break apart, eyes not as focused as before. He knows she can smell the very pleased scent rolling off of him at her reaction.

“Such an Alpha,” She mutters with a teasing eye roll, keeping her hand on his chest. “You wear that jacket and you can have whatever you like,” comes the whisper against his lips, a soft growl punctuating the end before he takes another kiss. “Okay. Okay. Now, let’s go shank the little fairy prince,” Baring your teeth is more cute to Bucky than terrifying initially, but knowing what you’re capable of does make it scarier. And sexier, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He loves that his mate is that intimidating.

And quite honestly, what will be more scary to the little prince than someone he feared and loathed coming back after watching them die? What's more, coming back for their retribution on him from the other side. Bucky can bet anyone that it’s not a hell of a lot actually.

“Brace yourself for it,” She whispers, hand wrapping tight around his metal one. Bucky feels a tug at his navel as the whole world around him seems to lighten at least ten shades, the overwhelming scent of blood returning, along with the pond waters, and Steve suddenly all fill his nose at once, Steve’s hands suddenly wrapping just this side of painful on his upper arms.

The scent of confusion and awe fill the area around them like a sudden breeze, the fair folk Prince calling for the God and Goddess to protect him in a whisper which might as well be a shout in the eerily quiet park. It seemed like even the regular wildlife noises in the Park had shown restraint, watching the otherworldly conflict in reverence.

“Did you miss me, brother?” No one on the other side of Manhattan could mistake the venom in her voice for anything other than deadly.

“You don’t understand!” The man - if you could call him that, no one in Central Park would though - shouts defiantly with a slice of whining at the end, his pupils blown as his eyes dart around the small clearing with barely restrained panic, nearly everywhere but on Duchess.

“Spare me your bullshit, Bradye,” Duchess growls, the lights beginning to dance behind her eyes as she moves closer to him, leaving her mate behind her. She smiles a bit triumphantly, maliciously. “You have come into this realm and by doing so are now subject to its rules and punishments. That useless title you hold will do you no good.” A few tsks come from her, “For you will face a death punishment either way. Hecate has requested the Queen come here and you and our father will pay for, let’s see, eight deaths and three kidnappings.”

“The fair folk do not lie,” He reminds in a taunt, thinking he’s won something. Her dangerous smile makes his millisecond of gloating worthless.

“Oh, of that I am well aware. I was schooled in that rule with leather. And steel. And sharp blows...and I think it may have slipped your mind, but I DID die. Charon saw me waiting upon the shore of the River Styxx. And he cannot lie about the souls he sees and ferries. Is the shaking of your hand as you drove your servant’s blade into my chest so quickly forgotten? Don’t worry,” Flames begin to gather around her ankles, slowly creeping upward like a nonsensical dance. “I have worked with SHIELD to document all you and our father have done. Did you know that there are some cameras opposite where your servant was seen entering and exiting? And that it has files that date back to before the first murder? Where you can make out two male figures walking into the park and it has a slight shake to it? Almost like an earthquake...or perhaps even a sithen moving…” The color drains from his already pasty face as Duchess strides closer, the blue and white flames now licking up her hips and lower back. There is a slight odor of urine, making Steve and Bucky both wrinkle their noses as Tony takes a small step away from him.

It’s a power move, not just the ever shifting flames but Bucky can clearly spot how sharp her teeth have grown, how her midnight blue fingernails are now black pointed tips. She’s allowing her fae side out as well, those multicolored lights bobbing and dancing behind her irises as each step she takes results in tiny little faerie rings, the tiny flowers blooming in the colors of the pinks, greens, and light blues that dance behind her eyes as small little beings descend from the trees and pixie-looking fae flit from the flowers around the Azalea Pond.

“You have no proof,” The haughtiness returns, looking down at Duchess, and had his voice not shook, might have pulled it off. He also eyes the fae joining the group in the clearing around the pond, his eyes catching sight of the faerie rings behind her and the shock that shows in his eyes is nearly equal to watching her appear back on this plane - alive.

“You hear that, Grandmother? Everything I asked Hecate’s handmaidens to give you is not proof.”

Bucky will remember that look forever. The snapping up of his head so fast it looked like it hurt, the look of complete and utter stunned surprise that seems to echo through and around him and actually make a tremor run through the little slimeball as Fury, Coulson and a lovely looking older woman with hair that went from silver at the top of her head and slowly gained a darker red as it came to rest at her waist came behind him into the clearing.

“I have heard all in this park. I have watched your hand slay your sister.” There is a flash of fury in her eyes, which Bucky notices are mismatched. One green as freshly mowed grass and the other a dark pine bark brown. “And had she not been preoccupied with keeping everyone in this park safe, sealing the sithen closed, and focused on her mate, you wouldn’t have stood a chance, you preposterous, moronic, useless child!” Her voice raises but her face never changes from an indifferent look that Bucky had seen Queen Elizabeth sport more than a few times on tv. “You and your father will be punished to the fullest extent of this plane’s laws. Before that you both will be brought before both courts of Fae and stripped of all your titles, rights, magic -” She looks down her nose at him with a sniff of disdain, “This applies more to your father as he actually has abilities. And you will also be made to pay for restitution to the families of those you had killed and of course those three whom you stole magic from and tortured. By our laws and the old ways, your sister has death rights on all three of you involved. And I must say, if I was her, I would drag your punishments out slowly...meticulously...painfully.”

Duchess strides back over to Bucky, hands already reaching out for him as the fire dies down around her - not as consuming, but still a bright warmth that shadows her entirety. Wrapped safely in his arms, Bucky rests his chin on the top of her head as Steve gently brushes his hand up and down her arm a few times, just reassuring her of their pack bond before taking a small step back to let them bond more. She pulls back a little from the comfort of his arms, tilting her head back to look up at him, Bucky knowing exactly what she wants. This was all very familiar to what happened just before she died...and honestly they all need that reassurance that everything is okay still. And this is the simplest and best way he can do it now; Her lips are soft and easily molded to his own. His sensitive ears can still pick up the little chirps and flitter sounds of small wings of the tiny fae that had climbed into this plane at Duchess’s silent command, gathered closer to her than her Grandmother, waiting for something else it seems.

A sharp featured man dressed in a black suit jacket with heavy, shining gold threaded designs along the wrists, collar, and lapels comes into the clearing with two men trailing behind him dragging a third between them.

The tiny beings begin a high pitched whine as the dragged man is thrown at the Faerie Queen’s feet. The man in black eyeing the tiny creatures with an unreadable something in his eyes.

Bucky is shocked at how much Duchess shares her face shape and nose with her father. Everything else must have come from her mother, making her features softer. Her eye color - she had told him last night - had come from her mother’s father, her mother’s side also responsible for her more soft Greek eye shape and supple body as well. Her father’s face however is harsher, more weathered looking than even his mother’s face. His eyes are a muddy brown and he looks to be maybe an inch or so taller than Duchess herself, unusual for a male - and even most women - of high Fae blood to be that short and not claim Brownie or Goblin blood, both of which a high Fae would absolutely loathe to admit to tainting their line. Him and his son seem to have been the tailings of a long and powerful bloodline, while Duchess was an anomaly of both sides of her family tree which was probably why she was so powerful. She was seemingly that red-headed gene in a sea of black hair which came about once every few generations.

Steve moves closer to the two of them again as the Queen looks down at her son with even more disgust than her grandson, which Bucky would not have thought possible a second ago. The sharp featured man comes to stand before Duchess and gives a deep nod, the two men behind him taking a knee as they come to a stop, the High Prince of the Seelie Court and his son watching from behind the Queen with shock and anger mixed on both their faces.

“Your highness, we at the Unseelie Court are thankful to you as it was a forgotten part of our court that was taken.” His bright green eyes look almost hesitant for his next words. “We are indebted to you for clearing this up. And also for clearing our court of involvement. The Unseelie Court is indebted to you, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos.”

Duchess pulls away a little from Bucky and Steve to sink into a deep curtsy, “Thank you, King Odhran. May your debt be cleared swiftly.” The two men behind him rise and they all go over to the Seelie Queen as Duchess’s flames die down further, pulsing softly in time with soft flutters and swayings of the tiny fae that have moved closer still.

“I will be seeing you later for their merited punishments, cousin,” The man says indifferently while also containing a hint of malice.

“Good evening until then, Odhran.” He and his men disappear as the Queen waves her hand to the men and women holding the prisoners formerly known as her family. “Fury. Coulson. We will be off now. They will be put into your custody in a week’s time. My granddaughter will, of course, be there for the handoff as a representative of the good will of my court.” Bucky doesn’t like that she’s ordering Duchess, fighting to suppress a growl. Does she not know he has plans for his mate?? She turns to address said granddaughter. “You will attend this handoff as a Princess of the Seelie Court. Come see me the morning before the handoff, as we have things we need to discuss. Please thank your goddess, Hecate, again for her swift actions and Hades for his too.” Duchess sinks into that deep curtsy once again before nodding at the trees and pond, the tiny creatures melting back into the waters and darkening branches like shadows, her Grandmother watching with something close to fondness on her face as the guards and prisoners disappear first, then her elegant frame takes a few steps and is gone as fast and quietly as the others.

Fury holds his hand straight up in the air after they vanish, no one making a move, just light breathing as everyone glances around the clearing, looking at Duchess and then Coulson who both give a firm nod before he lowers his hand and clears his throat. Fury’s good eye looks tired as fuck to Bucky.

“Alright people, shit shows over. Wanda, please begin magically cleansing this spot with Pietro, I want to be out of here in under an hour. Coulson, get me updates and signed paperwork from the three rescued for prosecution. Tony and Vision, keep the area contained until after the cleansing. SHIELD agents, please collect photos and evidence before the cleansing. Originals we keep, copies to the NYPD. Falcon and Spidey, back on patrols for the next few hours. Barnes and Rogers, take the lady home. I think she’s done and had enough for tonight. Everyone else, find something to do to make this go as fast as goddamn possible.”

“Roger, roger!” Bucky and Steve call out, Bucky tossing his flesh arm over her shoulder, Steve on his left side as they all wave silently to their friends and begin their way out of Central Park.

“This is one of the most terrible evenings of my life,” Steve mutters as Hades, Cerberus - in his human form - and a third figure, who Bucky can scent and see is definitely not the extra curvy Persephone, wave from further up the treeline ahead of them. “And I was just on the edge of the whole thing - witness and secondary pack feelings between you two. I might need a cigarette.” Steve mutters as he runs one hand through his hair and then down his face after taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“You haven’t smoked since 1938,” Bucky remarks with an eyeroll. “And that was before we knew it was bad for you, punk.”

“And this was one of the most terrible evenings of your life so far!” Steve turns his light blue eyes towards her with his Captain America signature disapproving glare at her overly perky tone. “The Seelie Queen says thank you. In that special fair folk way,” Duchess lays on the happy sarcastic tone as they approach the trio.

“As if I give a single fuck,” The woman’s dark voice growls out, her full lips set in a frown at the news. “How do you feel, mikrí mou skoteiní?”

“I told you, your little dark one is fine,” Hades reiterates with an eyeroll.

“I feel wonderful now, eroméni.” Duchess squeezes Bucky’s hand before ducking under his arm and pressing her forehead against Hecate’s as they intertwine both their hands, the power swirling softly around the two of them.

Bucky can feel the comfort in the darkness and mist that surround them temporarily, the two pulling apart and grinning at each other more like sisters or best friends than what they were.

“Mistress, this is my Bucky,” She stretches her hand out to him, Bucky forever heeding her siren call as he slips his hand into hers. “And that is our Steve Rogers.”

“I am honored to be in your company, gentleman. My mikrí mou skoteiní needs more family. I am glad she has found not only her mate, but a pack.” Her face shifts minutely from ecstatic to a little teasing. “One that will surely grow soon?”

“My baby doesn’t need to be having babies just yet!” Cerberus says in his deep honeyed voice, the slight echo noticeable now.

“My ma raised me right, ma’am. I got to mate and marry her before we go that path. My girl hasn’t even been to Coney Island.”

“Psssh. You haven’t been to Disneyland.”

“I was starting with Brookyln and Coney Island, doll.”

“Whatever you say, handsome,” She sighs out with a smile as Hades chuckles.

“And so it begins, Bucky.” Bucky grins down at his mate.

“I can’t wait.”

“Cheeseballs...the both of you,” Steve laughs out as Hades pulls Duchess into a hug, kissing her forehead before pulling away.

“Bring the boy down in a few days for brunch. Persephone will be elated, well more elated, to see you mated and bonded. Steve is welcome as well. You know how we love certain companies in the Underworld.”

“I shall bring the handmaidens as well. Perhaps we can get Mr. Rogers a mate as well,” Hecate teases again as Steve’s ears and neck turn bright red.

“We’ll call to check in tomorrow,” Hades continues, hand stuck out to Bucky who shakes it more firmly than last time which makes the God of the Underworld’s smile widen. “Gentlemen.” He extends his hand to Steve, giving him his own hard handshake before stepping back for Cerberus to enthusiastically hug all three of them.

“I love new pack members!” His echo-y deep timber reveals his obvious happiness, Hecate eye rolling good-naturedly beside him.

“I’ll text you later,” a smirk is painted on her full lips as she stares at Duchess. “But I understand if you are busy.”

“Goodnight Hecate!” comes Duchess’s embarrassed reaction, Bucky wrapping his metal arm around her waist and winking at Hecate. “Stop that!” She swats at Bucky’s chest playfully, just for him to catch it and kiss her fingertips.

“Let’s head home, doll.” Her eyes brighten instantly.

“Ooooh! I’ve never been to Stark Tower!” She states as Steve full belly laughs.

“He meant your bar or our shared apartment in Brooklyn.”

“But I’ll take you to the Tower in a few days,” Bucky promises with a kiss to her open palm as her temporary puppy dog eyes brighten.

“Goodnight all,” Hecate and Hades state simultaneously as Cerberus gives Duchess one last kiss to her cheek before rubbing his own cheek against it.

“Goodnight!” Steve, Bucky and Duchess chime in reply, watching the gods and guardian take a handful of steps before disappearing further up the path to the right, Bucky leading his pack down the left path towards 74th Street. 

“So, whatcha up to later, Sargent?” Duchess begins as they enter the area just before the Boathouse Restaurant, squinting just a bit at the brightness.

“Well, I got this mate who smells like fresh baked bread, lemon squares, cayenne, and a little hint of mint - who is in dire need of a mating mark and bond. And lots of baby making practice. Then I was thinking I take her for lunch at the Tower in a couple days to show her off.”

“Can you schedule an old school tour after the Tower lunch?”

“Of course, doll,” Bucky’s accent thickens a little as her eyes soften as she looks up at him. “I’ll even show you everywhere we got our asses kicked when we were young.”

“And by ‘ours’ he means mine after 1934,” Steve says from Bucky’s other side with a scoff, sending Duchess a wink as they get past the Alice in Wonderland bit and start on the path down towards the Model Boathouse.

“Whatever you guys wanna show me,” Duchess sighs out happily, leaning into Bucky and reaching around his back to take Steve’s hand. Steve squeezes back before kissing the back of her hand and releasing it, happy to have her in the pack.

“I’ll grab some stuff, but I’ll stay near - up in Natasha’s apartment a few floors up. Just let me know when it’s safe,” He chuckles out as a flustered look passes over her face. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s natural. Just lots of good luck to our furniture in the house with this Alpha.”

“Is Natasha’s floor far enough away, punk?”

“Well, I love my pack already,” Duchess murmurs as Bucky and Steve continue ribbing each other, watching the stars compete with the New York City lights as a few leaves rustle in the breeze and fall on the bright path ahead of them.

“Doll, as corny as it sounds, it’s amazing how I could try but I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing. Just your scent and hearing your heartbeat is a different kind of magic,” Bucky whispers against her hair before kissing her soft cheek, his metal fingers entwined with hers naturally.

“If every bit of magic was stripped from me tonight, I would be okay with it. Because the best magic I’ve ever received is you.”

Bless ya’ll for making it through my long ass rambling stories <3

@stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @thewhiterabbit42​ @nobodys-baby-now​ @mizzezm​​

**PICTURE IS NOT MINE - FOUND ON GOOGLE**

**ALL RIGHTS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS**​

[greentrickster]

Hi! Um, sorry to bother you, but in the Fae Taken AU, what is Franziska's response to some random human coming and taking her brother away because 'he suits his fancy' and might be useful on the road? Since she doesn't know this was actually a rescue attempt, might she attempt a counter-rescue?

A bold assumption that she considers him a brother in this AU, but correct!

Also very, very rare, at least for Manfred's court. Miles was very much not an equal there, he was more like a pet cat - enjoyed, perhaps even cherished by some of them, and with certain freedoms and independence, but no actual rights. (Ex: maybe your cat can go inside and outside as it likes, but that's only because you, the human, allows them, and if you decide "We're going to the vet," then, short of running away forever, there's nothing the cat can truly do to protest it.) He wasn't necessarily treated badly, but he was a pet, an amusement, a stolen child, and he knew it. He's used to being randomly touched or having his hair petted, and also just draping himself on or by anyone friendly when he feels like going to sleep.

However, in regards to Franziska! She looks seventeen in this fic, and she's looked seventeen the entire time Miles has known her - fae physically age very slowly - so this is a rare AU where she really is older than him. When Manfred brought Miles back from the forest, she initially decided that it would be fun to play at siblings with him, and 100% didn't count on developing actual familial feelings for him. By the time that Phoenix shows up, they very much see each other as family.

One important thing, however, is that Franziska is never going to be referred to by name in this story, because, as has been indicated, true names have a lot of power. Miles knows her true name, as she knows his, because that is how deep the level of trust she has for him is, but it's something he can't let anyone know he knows, just as they both have to hide how much they really mean to each other, simply because of the nature of Manfred's Court (not a nice place, lots of power jockeying). So Miles and Franziska always call each other Brother and Sister respectively.

Which will come as something of a shock to Phoenix when they're traveling back to their village at night and Franziska just steps out of a shadow, casually holding a whip that looks like it was pieced together from the spaces between the stars, and basically says, "Brother, this is foolish, I am taking you home."

Because no, she does not consider Phoenix a threat - not even a little bit. The end result of this if Miles says, "Yeah, I'm with him against my will, I don't want to go with him" is that Franziska manages the situation so that she can either straight-up kill Phoenix or commit him to a challenge he can't beat her at, and then she kills him when he loses. Phoenix did something amazing when he beat Manfred, but that was also a specific situation that he trained over a decade for and set up very, very carefully to help ensure Manfred would underestimate him. In contrast, Franziska's just spent three days and nights watching exactly what Phoenix can do. The only thing getting Phoenix out of this encounter alive is Miles's good will.

Which, fortunately, he has, as Miles explains to his sister that he's okay, that he's safe, he is his own master now, literally. She takes some reassuring, but is finally reassured, and the encounter ends with her telling Miles that, if ever he's in trouble, he can call on her and she will come. They are still brother and sister, in spite of what has happened.

Phoenix gets told that he'd better not tell anyone else about what he's just seen, because if he does she'll kill him, no questions asked, he dies. She gets many, many reassurances that he has no intention of doing anything of the sort.

After this, Franziska may try and claim the Hill that used to be her father's, assemble her own Dark Court, that sort of thing. If she succeeds, it will still be an extremely dangerous court, but not in the same way Manfred's was, more in a "Hi, we're very old, very powerful, and we haven't decided if we like you or not" sort of way.

Also, just since they were brought up earlier, I feel I should mention that not all mortal children are treated the same by every Court in this universe. In some they're pets, others slaves, still others they're diplomats, and others still just absolutely cherish them, with further variation depending on the specific fae who has claimed said child. Some have no interest in such things, some treat them as a resource, some see them as their own actual children and even go into deep mourning when their mortal child dies.

An added level of complication in this world is that, while some human children are swapped with fae children, traditional changeling style, and some are tempted/stolen away like Miles... child and infant abandonment is still very much a thing in this world. And, unfortunately, it's something that's inadvertently encouraged by the fae themselves because, hey, free baby! Who's going to pass up on a perfectly good, free human baby?! Even if you don't want it yourself those things are valuable, do you have any idea what sorts of trades, alliances, or bargains you can make if you have one of them to offer? And of course they're not going to tell the humans, "Hey, this isn't actually one of ours, it's just a human that's not on factory-standard settings" because why would they? Heck, a good portion of them don't even realize that that's why the humans keep occasionally leaving them babies. And the fact that the fae do keep taking these abandoned children just reinforces the idea that, yup, that was a changeling, I just didn't manage to get my 'real' child back. It's a complicated situation, and it's only going to get more complicated as the humans of this world eventually start to better understand physical disabilities and neurodivergance. Especially since, at this point, the fae probably know how to deal with situations like this and how to help these children thrive better than most humans, just because they're the ones who keep getting and raising these children. Like I said, this situation is complicated.

None of this would probably be addressed in the story, of course, but it's something I've spent a lot of time thinking about, and which would have a definite effect on the story because, in a rarity for a human, Miles actually knows most of the sides of this situation and understands how it works, because this was pertinent information to his situation. He doesn't have a full, unbiased picture, but it's a way better understanding than most people have, and this knowledge does influence his reactions and responses to various situations.

Thanks for the ask!

[superherotiger]

My Enemy, My Destiny (Villain Irondad AU) // Ongoing One-shot Series

Main Series (Chronological order):

Legacy of Ashes: (Tumblr) (Ao3)

Dragging his creation out of the water, the man gripped onto the cooled metal and stared into a set of hollowed, glaring eyes, burning with flames from the forge that raged behind it. There should have been a sense of pride, or at the very least relief. But instead all he felt was an inferno. A ferocious, hungry wildfire that wanted to burn everything to ashes, starting with the ones that had dragged him into this nightmare to begin with. The ones that had stolen his creations and tainted them beyond repair.

The ones that had taken innocent lives without care, without remorse…

Somebody had to right the injustices of their corrupted world, and settling his newest creation -a mask of hardened metal- over his face, Tony Stark knew deep down that he was the only one strong enough to do it…

Help Me Mend What I Broke: (Tumblr) (Ao3)

“It’s a little early in the day for you, isn’t it Tin Can?” the Spiderling teased with a sudden lightness in his voice.

“Well, I thought I might get a little bit of Vitamin D for once,” Tony mused as he paced towards the Spider with falsely casual steps. The street was empty at the moment after everyone had fled upon his initial arrival, the sight of the suit alone enough to send every citizen within a three-block radius packing for the hills. They, of course, were terrified, but Tony found it more entertaining than anything.

“I hope you’ve brought your A game today Bug, because I’ve been itching for a fight,” he said, lifting into the air to glare down at the mutant with his intimidating figure.

“Let’s see if you can keep up old man,” the Spider retorted as he shifted into a crouch. Ready. Ready for battle.

Tony smiled, and blasted forward without a second warning.

I’ve Got You, Little Bug: (Tumblr) (Ao3)

“Bug?” he asked into the darkness, his voice unusually coarse. “Hey Bug? You here?”

“M ‘n ara-hnid…”

Tony smirked at the slurred mumble from behind him, turning around so his arc reactor faced the bars and shone just brightly enough to outline the figure lying in the other cell. Deep brown eyes narrowed at the new source of light before blinking up at the man sluggishly. “Hey man…” he murmured with that same dorky smile of his. “Funny seein’ you here, am I right?”

Tony rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re such a pest, you know that?”

~~~

Art:

Fake Disney+ Original

~~~

Villain Irondad AU tag

[possiblyhomer]

One random idea in the middle of the night and about 20 days later, it is done. An Elros ship fairytale au. No complex plot, character arcs or anything, just a simple fairytale about doing good things and getting rewarded for it, completed with plenty of rule of 3's and talking plants and animals. May I present to you,

The traveler and the dragon

Once upon a time, there was a young maiden who travelled across the lands to find a place to call home. Her name was Elpis and she was known far and wide for her beautiful golden hair, eyes that shimmered like the sun's rays on the ocean waves and skin as soft as a flower's petals. Her beauty, however, was infinitely outshone by her kind heart.

One day, her search lead her to a peaceful forest. Though the citizens of the nearby village had warned her of a terrible dragon that lives in the forest, whose presence spell doom for all who is near it, the girl couldn't help but be drawn there by the forest's beauty. Elpis didn't realize she was lost until the clear blue sky turned pink, the young traveler frantically ran through the forest in search of a shelter, but by the time the sun had set, all she found was a cavern. The moment she stepped in the cave though, a loud roar echoed from deep within the cave, then came a dragon, it's scales a deep red and it's horns as dark as a moonless night. The dreaded beast angrily roared at its uninvited guest as she stood at the entrance to its cave and glared at her with glowing eyes.

"Please, o great dragon, I am but a lost traveler trying to find a place to call home, please find it in your heart to let me take shelter!" She pleaded.

The dragon stared down at the young woman before it as if searching for any lies. The maiden stood there patiently under its harsh gaze before the dragon huffed.

"Very well, I will allow you only three nights in my cavern, if you return for a fourth time, I will eat you where you stand." It warned before letting her in.

That night, as the worn out traveler prepared for sleep, she noticed the blood and ashes covering the dragon. Curious, she asked it:

"Great dragon, why do you harm the citizens of the nearby kingdom?"

"Because they have stolen the stars my mother had put on my horns to make them shimmer even in the dark." The dragon replied.

The next morning, as Elpis set out to find a home, but she could not find one. On her way back to the dragon's cave, however, she heard a cry for help and found a baby bird that has fallen off its nest. The kind-hearted traveler gently picked the little creature up and put it back in its home.

"Thank you, kind traveler!" The bird chirped. "Let us repay you, traveler! You can stay with us and call this tree your home! We'll soar across the sky freely and travel to wherever we want!"

The girl only shook her head. "Thank you, little bird, but I cannot stay here, for I cannot take to the skies like you do." She replied.

"Then how can I repay you?" It asked

The traveler thought for a while, then answered:

"Can you tell me how to make stars shimmer once again on the great dragon's horns?"

"For that, you will need to see Clotho the spinner, follow the path I made and you will find her there!" Said the little bird.

Elpis thanked the bird and before her, a different path appeared. She walked down the path and at the end was a little girl holding a spindle. Clotho smiled at her as she filled a cup with light.

"Sprinkle this on the dragon's horns and the stars shall return to him." The child spoke before vanishing with the scenery, leaving Elpis at the entrance to the dragon's cavern.

"Have you not found your home?" The dragon said with irritation.

"I have not, but in my search I have found what has been stolen from you." The maiden said, sprinkling the light onto the dragon's horns, which made it glow softly in the darkness of the cave.

"You do not owe me anything, for I have let you stay on my own accord. Yet, you still showed me kindness even though it was unnecessary, for that, I thank you."

That night, after the dragon and the traveler had exchanged their good-nights, Elpis noticed how the dreaded beast shivered as the wind flew through the cave. Puzzled, she asked it:

"Great dragon, why do you shiver against the wind?"

"Because my wings can no longer keep me warm, for their feathers can no longer regrow." The dragon replied.

As the sun rose the next day, Elpis once again left to find a home, yet she could not find a place to call home. As she tried to find her way back to the cavern, the traveler saw a fish trying to swim up a fall and on top of the fall, its brethren cheering for it. The kind-hearted traveler used a large leaf to catch it, then released the fish amongst its family.

"Thank you, kind traveler!" The fish said. "Let us repay you, traveler! You can stay with us and call these waters your home! We'll swim and splash around in the cool water and never get tired!"

The girl only shook her head. "Thank you, little fish, but I cannot stay here, for I cannot breath underwater." She replied.

"Then how can I repay you?" It asked

The traveler thought for a minute, then answered:

"Can you tell me how to make feathers grow once again on the great dragon's wings?"

"For that, you will need to see Lachesis the allotter, follow the river downstream and you will find her there!" Said the little fish.

Elpis thanked the fish and before her, a boat appeared. She floated down the river and at the end was a woman holding a staff. Lachesis gently caressed her as she filled a globe with silver water.

"Pour this on the dragon's wings and his feathers shall return to him." The woman spoke before vanishing with the scenery, leaving Elpis at the entrance to the dragon's cavern.

"Have you not found your home still?" The dragon questioned.

"I have not, but in my search I have found what you have lost." The maiden said, pouring the water onto the dragon's wings, immediately, feathers as red and vibrant as the sunset sprung forth wherever the water touched.

"Thank you, my friend, you did not have to help me at all, yet you have done so much. The night ahead is cold and your journey ahead a long one, so for tonight, let us share the warmth of my feathered wings."

That night, as they huddled closely under the dragon's wings, Elpis felt a tear drop from the dragon's eyes. Worried, she asked:

"Dear dragon, why do you weep?"

"Because I can no longer return to the home I missed so dearly." The dragon answered softly.

As the next day came, the dragon and the traveler lingered in their farewells and with a heart heavier than any stone, the traveler turned her back and walked away. Soon, the sun had started to set, as she tried to find a place to stay for the night, the maiden found a field of flowers with a single wilting bloom, the kind-hearted traveler gave the flower water from her own bottle and it soon sprung back to life.

"Thank you, kind traveler!" The flower sang. "Let us repay you, traveler! You can stay with us and call this field your home! We'll bask in the sunshine all day and bring happiness simply by looking so pretty!"

The girl only shook her head. "Thank you, little flower, but I will not stay here, for I no longer search for a home." She replied.

"Then how can I repay you?" It asked

Without hesitation, she answered:

"Can you tell me how to help the great dragon find a way back to his home?"

"For that, you will need to see Atropos the cutter, climb over the big grassy hill and you will find her there!" Said the revived flower.

The traveler thanked the flower and went on her way. At the other side of the hill was an old woman holding a scroll. Atropos kissed her forehead and handed her a beautiful golden crown.

"Put this on the dragon's head and his way back home will show itself to him." The woman spoke before vanishing, Elpis looked forward, only to realize that she was now standing before the dragon.

"Have you not found your home? Have you forgotten my warning?" The dragon asked in surprise, yet he seemed more relieved than angry.

"I have found it, but I have also found a way for you to return to yours." The traveler smiled as she put the crown on the dragon's head. Before her, the dragon turned into a handsome prince and the cave where they stayed together gave way to a beautiful kingdom.

"I cannot thank you enough, dear traveler. I am Moros, I was the prince of the dragon kingdom, but I was banished from my home because of my cruelty! But you have shown me so much kindness and helped me realize my mistakes! I love you, dear Elpis, would you be willing to come with me to my home?" The dragon prince said, extending one of his hands to her.

The traveler took his hand and told him:

"I would love nothing more than to join you, my dear prince, for I have realized over the nights we spent together, that my home, and my heart also, lies with you."

The prince held the traveler in his arms as they returned to the kingdom of dragons, where she was gifted her own pair of beautiful golden wings. The dragon prince and his traveler were soon wedded and with eachother by their side, they lived happily ever after.

The end.

A/N: Please know that I, as the author, had every intention of giving human form Moros cool claw hands, but as it didn't really fit with the whole fairytale motif, I had to, very reluctantly, leave that detail out... (╥﹏╥)

[tabbyrp]

💭

{Because I love the setting, it’s the Deep Dark Hills verse.}

Only an idiot would dispose of a body down a mineshaft. Decaying guts and death call to the old gods. But the Bennett boys were never known for their strapping intelligence. Walt McCready’s crumpled, broken corpse woke the being from its slumber. Coover’s juicy flesh stoked its hunger.

~ “There’s no exact science to this, Raylan. There’s no science, period.” From the foot of the motel bed, Tabby sighed. Being a guardian hardly came with a magical instruction manual. “But yeah. The way Coover had been handling Loretta, that thing down the shaft might have gotten a taste of her too. And yeah, it might go looking for her to snack upon. Blood… has a way of calling to blood.” ~

Before the creature could come crawling up in the hunt for a feast, Raylan and Tabby descended down into the earth. Perhaps Aunt Helen would have called them both idiots, hunting a creature in its own domain.

Perhaps, she was right.

[frogsmulder]

Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 1 Stop and Breathe

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugitives. When they finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

4k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

The long desert roads seemed to stretch light-years ahead, no scenery, no landmarks, just flat, arid land in all directions. The baked earth was cool in the grey hue of the early morning. Far out, somewhere along the horizon, the sun started to reach up its first fingers to claw at the dawn sky. Chasing those pale blues and purples, the day would soon bleed bright oranges and yellows and colour the earth below. Daybreak felt like an answer to a prayer; the dawn light lifted the oppressive, starless night sky and had cloaked them. Daybreak filled Mulder with a sense of liberty and overwhelming hope for a second chance as invigorating as the breeze outside. It was a miracle that they had made it this far. Mulder was beginning to think he had been executed after all and was caught in limbo, forever driving towards the end of the cold, dark sky. A lost soul wandering aimlessly as punishment for his crimes.

In his mind, he kept hearing the explosions ring through his hears and the flashes of flame in the rear-view mirror. Always in his peripheral, snapshots of the ruins hurtling his way took him by surprise. He glanced at them but as soon as he chased their sight, the apparitions disappeared.

His father was dead. The smoking son-of-a-bitch should have died a long time ago. Mulder tightened his grip on the staring wheel. Now He haunted his peripheral vision as well, the ghost of his smoke sickly uncurling in the back seats of the stolen car. His fathers, his sister, his mother, Emily, the Gunmen: all dead. How many did he have left to lose?

He swallowed thickly and looked over at Scully in the passenger seat, her head lolled to one side and her lips parted to utter the tiniest of snores. A tiny damp patch on her shoulder marked where she had drooled throughout the night– something she most adamantly didn't do. Caught in the first glowing rays of the sun, Mulder had never seen her so beautiful, frizzy hair and all. He placed a hand upon her knee, a poor substitute for all the embraces he wished to share with her.

Scully stirred from her light sleep, groaning and stretching like old wood as she straightened herself. Her blinks were laboriously heavy, weighed down by the stress of the last twenty-four hours. Mulder hadn't meant to wake her but didn't miss the opportunity to share the day with her. "Hey, Scully, look at the sunrise," he whispered.

She groggily hummed, appreciating the myriad of colours. Voice still thick with sleep, she asked, "Where are we?"

"Not sure," he answered, tapping the dial for the gas to see if the needle was lying.

Scully curled up as much as she could in the seat and turned to gaze out of the window, watching the little rocks and pebbles flew past in a blur along the roadside. "Where are we going?"

He glanced at her, then back towards the horizon racing as quickly away from them as they chased after it. "Don't know. But if we don't know, at least nobody else knows either." It was meant to make her smile, but all she did was frown. With no one and nothing around them, the faux safety of the nowhere between lands scared Scully. As if somehow it was a trap they were being lulled into; a false sense of security. She knew they needed to be wary at all hours, every ticking second of the day and every tock of the clock at night. She reminded herself there was no safe place to hide and no time to catch their breath. But it was all so exhausting.

"How long have you been driving?" She craned her neck to see the bags under his eyes. Mulder had pulled all-nighters before, and it wasn't like he was never subject to bouts of insomnia, but the restless worry was the worst thing. She could see it was eating him up from the inside, not fear for himself but for her, that she had chosen this life with him again. And now he could barely offer her an existence. She wanted to tell him that it didn't matter– she'd make the same decision twice, a thousand times, but that wouldn't allay the worry. Reality had punched him in the face and marked him with two shiners.

"Ten hours or so," he said as if it was still the first half an hour.

Scully sat up in her seat. "You should take a rest. Let me drive."

"No." Mulder shook his head with pursed lips and then chuckled. "You should sleep while you can. We both know me resting is pointless."

She smiled sorrowfully, looking at her hands rested in her lap. She sighed. "None of this feels real does it?"

Squeezing her knee, Mulder spoke honestly, as soft and as mellow as the sunlight on the horizon. "You are real to me right here and now. That's all I need to get through this."

But Scully didn't ask what this was and when it would be over. She only knew she was already counting down the days. But the end was intangible and far out of sight, and counting was hopeless when it felt like starting at infinity. The one thing Scully knew for certain was that an irrevocable change had already occurred and she blinked and she missed it. She had been fighting for them, pleading for them. Just her and Mulder: that was all she wanted. And then this shift they had taken on in the last couple of days– such a short time– and she was not sure she wanted it anymore. She was beginning to get that tangy taste in her mouth like she was mourning the past and who they used to be.

Scully took a deep breath. Willing the sting away from her eyes, she expelled the air caught in her lungs, imagining the ache in her body fused to the carbon dioxide molecules and expelled also. Focusing on the sunrise, she found beauty in its nature, reminding herself of the beauty of them; all the times he had made her giggle, made her cry, made her roll her eyes.

Mulder could see Scully thinking, the lost look in her eye more familiar to him than the back of his own hand. Her silence spoke louder than any response; it whispered to him exactly what was on her mind. He knew it because he felt it too. He gently took one of the hands from her lap and held it.

The touch made Scully gasp softly, breaking her from the melody of her thoughts. It was as if he had somehow heard them. Of course, he had; they might have changed but somethings always stayed the same. Scully realised she needed him close now more than ever if she was to stand a chance of surviving. Squeezing his hand, she let him in. She missed this telepathy of theirs; messages like electricity passed through their neurons and chemically encoded between the synapse of their touch. They operated on the same electromagnetic wavelength. She smiled and squeezed his hand again.

Mulder glanced back to the gas needle, edging steadily lower. "How much money did Walter manage to get for us?"

"I haven't counted, but it won't last long anyway."

Fortunately, Scully had had the sensibility to keep the cash on her person. It was all they had left aside the clothes on their backs. Their coats and the change of clothes that were hastily packed were still in the car that Monica and Doggett had driven away and they all knew it was too dangerous now to risk meeting up.

"The next motel we come across, we'll book in–"

She looked at him cautiously.

"– Just for the night. We won't stay long, just so we can sleep on a proper bed."

"So we can stop and catch our breath," she concluded, though doubtful, running her thumb over every hill and valley of his knuckles.

"So we can catch our breath," he agreed.

The hum of the tires picking up dust and the voice of the engine marked their silence. Their long, drawn-out breaths were comforting, yet the quiet was ominous, allowing thoughts to grow like tumours, hanging uneasily between them. They had each other but what if they weren't strong enough? Mulder would have said something– anything to break the tension, but all his thoughts were made of what-ifs, and voicing them, he feared, would make them real.

Scully curled up again, protecting herself against the miasma of the silence. Concentrating on the tide of Mulder's breathing, she found a calming rhythm, watching his chest rise and fall. Knowing he was there, she managed to find peace enough to steal an hour or so more sleep.

Over the horizon came a small, dark dot, growing in size and detail. Mulder leaned forward, squinting through the dust on the windscreen. As it came approached, he thanked Scully's God for gifting an oasis. The gas station looked beaten and worn down but promised life and provisions. He made the quick decision to stop and top up on gas, water, and something for breakfast. Looking at Scully one last time, he saw her sleeping; the quiver of her eyelashes somehow anxious even during sleep. He killed the engine and got out to check the store.

It was still: quieter than Scully remembered it being. Blinking tiredly, she picked the sleepy dust from her eyes and groaned. She gasped sharply, the sight of the empty seat next to her sending her heart aflutter. She grappled at her belt for the gun she no longer had. Cursing, she ran out of the car. The beat of her feet on the ground rivaled the pound of the war drum on her chest. "Mulder?" she called but was met with no reply. "Mulder!"

Mulder came quickly through the door, a finger pressed to his lips and a brown bag in his hand. "Shh, Scully," he whispered. "It's alright. I was just getting some gas."

It was then that Scully noticed the row of pumps they were parked next to. She looked away and licked the corner of her mouth, embarrassed that she had failed to correctly assess the situation before leaping to conclusions. It was so unlike her. She was frustrated she had let fatigue and worry manipulate her so easily. It had been less than two days.

"I could have got us caught," she breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"Hey, none of that now." Mulder rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. He guided her back towards the car, his palm at the small of her back like a steady rudder. "We're in the middle of nowhere, nobody is going to find us out here," he calmed her, even though his heart was still racing; the fright in her shouts had shot ice through his spine.

Scully slumped into her seat, the faux safety of no-man's-land nagging at her still. "Mulder, you know better than anybody they have eyes and ears everywhere."

"Let me do the worrying for once, Scully. This one's on me."

She shook her head– she wouldn't let him bare this on his own; they were in this together. It made a small smile creep across Mulder's lips and in return Scully's brow furrowed in confusion.

"How can either of us win when we are both so stubborn?" he laughed, and Scully chuckled too. "I spoke to the owner and he said that if we head southwest, sorta back along the trail, we will end up in Rosswell by nightfall. They'll have a motel–"

"And we can breathe," she nodded, then smirked. "You just wanted to see the UFO sight, didn't you?"

"Maybe," he sheepishly replied. "I got you some of that fat-free yogurt you like for breakfast. And some bagels. You should eat something; we didn't eat all day yesterday."

Scully hadn't noticed. The gnawing of worry in her stomach had sated any appetite she might have had. She still wasn't hungry now, but the doctor in her knew she had to eat something, however hard it was going to be.

Much of the day was spent watching the sun rise overhead and munching on bagels. Scully scolded Mulder when he dipped one of his into the yogurt she had barely touched and Mulder lectured Scully about eating enough. By the time the sun began to set, they had arrived in Roswell and found a motel to stay the night. Clouds were rolling in, covering the skies from the farthest corners, and the threat of rain could be smelt on the air.

Unlocking the door, they both stepped inside a minimal, but pleasant room. Scully clenched her hands around phantom luggage itching her palms. She had the urge to unpack everything into the dresser like she always did, like on their very first case together. She peered around the door to the ensuite, seeing rows of tiny bottles and an inviting robe hung elegantly, yet groaned.

"Mulder, we are going to have to go back out for toothbrushes."

"Oh, hang on..." He rummaged through the paper bag, producing two brushes and a tube of paste. "I picked some up earlier. Sorry, they might have some bagel crumbs on."

She took them with a grin, standing on her tiptoes to press a grateful kiss to his cheek. "You're a lifesaver."

Mulder watched her disappear into the bathroom, giving her some privacy and himself some time to think. He sat on the floor, watching the rain begin to fall and the wind pick up, whipping the trees outside. Gazing out of the window, he imagined the brewing storm an omen, but one of hope. All the good things that had happened to him had been christened by torrents of rain and swirls of wind and wisps of Scully stealing small pieces of his heart: their first assignment together; their first night spent together. The weather brought the ships to port and Scully to him. Beyond the clouds he pictured his sister in the starlight twinkling brightly. He hoped his mother was up there too, keeping a watch over them both.

Suddenly, he smelt the smoke, saw it plume from the chair in the corner. He gritted his teeth. Of all the people that could appear to him...

 She's been up there for a long time, you know. I thought you would have figured it out sooner.

Mulder dug his fingernails into his palms, sure the pain would snap him awake.

 She saw the world for what it truly was: there's no justice... there's no cruelty either. There's simply survival. In the end, she chose not to survive. She had a choice, Mulder, what do you get?

Maybe it was all in his head. If he tried hard enough, he could make the nightmare disappear.

What did your crusade reap you? The Truth? he chuckled. Was it the truth you wanted; expected? He leaned forward out of the shadow, his dead eyes gleaming in the light. Truth is not power, in fact, it's quite the opposite: truth makes you powerless. It's been quite the burden on me; perhaps that's why I smoke so many. He slyly smiled around a wreath of white cloud. You should try it.

In the end, we all lose. That's the beauty of survival: it's only ever a temporary thing. The date is set, son. Nothing, not even you, can change that.

Fury burning through him, Mulder lept up like a lit match to a gas lamp. "And what would you know?! What did you ever try to do about it?!"

He lunged for the man, desperate to squeeze the last, dying breaths from his corpse once and for all. But as he was about to lay his hands on his sickly throat, the son-of-a-bitch dissipated as thin as the smoke he breathed, elusive in death as he had been in life. It seemed fitting. Curling his fingers through nothing but cool air, Mulder slumped back in defeat. Biting his fingernail, he thought about the truth about who he was. It occurred to him that he was lost without purpose. Although he didn't feel it yet, he recognised the impending dawn of realisation and feared it. He threw his hand out in frustration.

The truth was he had failed.

He hadn't exposed the conspiracy or brought down its organisations. He hadn't found Samantha. He hadn't been a father to William. And he hadn't been there for Scully.

The trees shook their disapproval, condemning the guilty man.

Mulder rested his head back on the mattress like he was treading dangerous waters, but his arms were limp over his knees, merely reticent about his fate. Looking back across the room, he saw Scully walk in smelling sweetly of lavender soap and looking angelic in the pale, dilapidated light. She sat on the edge of the bed, gently running her fingers through his hair and watching the storm in unison. He moved into her touch, shifting to rest his cheek against her thigh. They sat like for a while in companionable silence, reassuring one another through their touches.

When Scully crawled up the bed to lie down, she expected him to follow. When he didn't she asked, "what are you thinking? Mulder?"

"I'm thinking... I'm a guilty man. I've failed in every respect. I deserve the harshest punishment for my crimes."

Hearing the echo, Scully was thrown back to the concrete cell when he first said those words. She could tell, then, there had been a hollow complacency to his tone. Now, she only heard a conviction in his voice. It terrified her. Scully had only just broken him free of where he was being tortured, she couldn't let it live on inside of him. So, she did what she always did: countered Mulder with any sane argument she could think of.

"You don't believe that."

He was sure that he had failed as he was sure of anything. If he told Scully that it was her he had failed, she would refuse to believe him and refuse to let him believe it too. But it was true. And he dared not mention all the ways he had failed their child. Mulder sighed. "I believe that I sat in a motel room like this with you when we first met, and I tried to convince you of the truth. And in that respect, I succeeded, but... in every other way..." He thought of William swaddled in his arms when he held him for the first time– only time. He swallowed the burgeoning lump in his throat. "I've failed."

"You don't believe that either."

"Mm," he disagreed. His jaw was set. Thoughts pounded in his chest but every time he chose something to say it died a whisper caught in his throat. He finally settled for something unimportant, yet still a truth neither of them could refute. "I've been chasing after monsters with a butterfly net." He took a breath and tried again "You heard the man– the date's set. I can't change that." I can't save us. I can't make the world a better place for our son, he didn't say.

Scully wanted to shout at him that this wasn't who he was, he didn't quit so easily, he always found something worth fighting for, but she knew if she did that she would lose him forever. Taking a steadying breath, she composed herself. Keeping her voice measured, she told him what she wanted to be true. "You wouldn't tell me. Not because you were afraid or broken... but because you didn't want to accept defeat."

"Well... I was afraid of what knowing would do to you. I was afraid that it would crush your spirit." He looked into her eyes and saw a pained, mirrored reflection. In some ways, he was glad Cancer-man had told her because he could never bring himself to trample her hope, not when things were already so dire. It would break his heart.

Mulder's gaze held her fast and was as deep and cutting as the love she felt. He looked young and small and innocent like he was clutching those cloth hearts. Even then he was undeterred, never willing to give up hope.

"Why would I accept defeat? Why would I accept it if you won't?" Scully needed him to keep fighting. If he didn't, she would surely give in. "Mulder, you say that you've failed, but you only fail if you give up. And I know you-- you can't give up... It's what I saw in you when we first met. It's why I followed you. Why I'd do it all over again."

"And look what it's gotten you," he murmured.

"And what has it gotten you? Not your sister. Nothing that you've set out for. But you won't give up, even now." She took his hand, gently squeezing, hoping their neurons would connect and renew their telepathy. "You've always said that you want to believe. But believe in what, Mulder? If this is the truth you've been looking for, then what is there left to believe in?"

He glanced at the chair still coiled in that foul aroma, thought of his sister living on as bright starlight, or else he had become the thing he feared: delusional, proving all the whispered rumours true. He suspected it was the trauma or remnants from his brain disease that caused the visions, but that's not what he wanted to believe.

"I believe that... the dead are not lost to us. That they speak to us as part of something greater than us– greater than any alien force." He thought of Byers, Langley, Frohike, even Krycek. "And if you and I are powerless now, I want to believe that if we listen to what's speaking, it can give us the power to save ourselves."

"Then we believe the same thing."

Taking her cross between his finger and thumb, Mulder examined it twinkling in the streetlight made shadowy by rain. He never considered himself a religious man, could never find any divine meaning to all the heartache he had suffered. Then life had brought him Scully with her science and her faith and her love. Maybe he could believe. His thumb traveled to her lips, marveling in the warmth of her; how alive they were. When she pressed the smallest of kisses to his digit, his world shattered with clarity. He joined her like a moth to a flame, helplessly wrapping himself around her like a life ring. She lay under the crook of his nose and he anchored them together with his knee over her hip.

"Maybe there's hope," he breathed.

Scully brushed her nose along his, nuzzling like she was nodding in agreement. The hand that Mulder had nestled in the hollow of her waist repeated the motion, climbing up the side of her ribs and abseiling down, friction warming the embers of their affection. Trailing his fingers higher, he followed the swoop of her hair behind her ear, tucking the locks into place. The edge of her jaw now held delicately beneath his fingertips, he looked to her eyes, the clear crystal blue pulling that familiar tug on his heartstrings. If it was possible, Scully shifted closer. She tilted her head, lips locking onto his once, chastely making herself known to him again. And then again, he searched her out to reply with his own tender kiss. Settling into one another's arms, their gazes fell upon the smile in each's eyes, finding an easy lull.

Scully witnessed the universe turn around in his beautiful mind. The flick of his eyes now quieter, softening from tiredness and tranquility, belayed newfound contentment. Staving off her own sleep, she saw his heavy eyelids droop and close, his breathing even out, and his form relax. She pulled him closer, buried herself in his comforting smell, watched over him– his protector.

The relentless pellets of rain struck percussion against the thin roof above them. Outside, the wind picked up in moaning gale. Inside, Scully breathed, sinking further into the hold of her partner and into the grips of sleep.

[doorsclosingslowly]

Your death is a number but I cannot count that high (11/16)

In which Death Watch enter the enemy ship, and Asajj gets her shot at freedom.

Zombie Savage AU | 2.5k | warning for body horror

For the first time in weeks, Asajj feels light. It’s almost offensive, how quickly she slipped from world-devouring grief and heartburn and eternal nightmares into mission planning and execution mode, but then again: she enjoys bounty hunting. Pursuit and infiltration are basically her comfort zone, and even the present company cannot spoil her thrill.

She finally has solid ground under her feet again. The swamp that broils and laps at her with every dream and with every wriggling fleshworm that fucking Savage Opress sends her way is receding, and soon enough, when she gets her chance, she’ll kill it off—kill him—for good.

Asajj’s sisters and Mother Talzin may have accidentally landed her in a malignant trap when they tried to help her fight Dooku, but Asajj will chew her way free.

That’s why she volunteered to be ground troop today. She needs to rescue herself. She needs to cut off this bond, cut off the mate, cut off the drowning boulder. She’d been prepared to argue and fight for the opportunity, since it’s not like anybody trusts her here, but it was surprisingly easy. Not even a doubtful look—no, the only response she’d received was appreciation for her fearlessness in the face of certain death. Well, maybe it is. Maul keeps insisting that Savage’s torture is a trap laid by Sidious, his past shadowy Sith Master, and that setting a foot on Entralla means getting fried and disappeared and tortured. He himself is going down still, obviously—by now it doesn’t even appear to be bravado or tending to his image before his following but genuine mushy affection for that dumb creature, and if Asajj wasn’t busy she might almost be curious—Maul is coming down with her, as are Kast and Saxon and three dozen other supercommandos. That’s what they’d settled on, once their advance droid surveillance footage yesterday had revealed their target to be a small spaceship surrounded by a hundred medium-sized tents.

Maul, Kast and Saxon at once, who as far as she’s observed are the three highest-ranking members of Death Watch, and on what all of them believe is a suicide mission—Asajj would call them brain-dead, but actually, she doesn’t care. Either Maul is every inch the scared wretch of a cast-off Sith plaything he appears and is making mountains out of skrant-hills, or she’ll, most likely, be dead too. Looks like that gamorrean sow Kast likes to suck face with will soon inherit the whole sorry rest of their terrorist crew.

Most of Death Watch, though, is inside three hundred small Kom’rk-class fighters or the two stolen Separatist dreadnaughts, standing by to intercept any fleeing ship with gravity wells or sheer violence. Well. That’s one of the reasons. Every ground Mando is in periodic radio contact with one of their motherships, and should they go silent when Sidious gets them… if the mission goes sour, dead man’s switch. Asajj doesn’t know about the exact logistics of how many have to miss check-in before the omnicidal aerial bombardment begins… but she’s starting to understand Maul’s paranoia regarding this ‘Sidious’ well enough to know they’re going to risk killing their Mand’alor sooner rather than later. It’s reassuring, almost. They’ll kill Sidious no matter what.

Well. And her, too.

But Asajj knew when she allowed that Mando to think she’d captured her that this wasn’t going to be easy. Up until know she’s always found a way to make it out alive. She’ll manage. And Sidious killed her sisters. Killed Talzin. Killed Dathomir.

Sidious will die, and so will Opress. Anything else is secondary.

She’s wearing a set of scavenged armor over her clothes and a jetpack and a gas mask, nothing more. Most of the ground team have massive tanks mounted on their back, too, full of some quick heavyweight airborne soporific Death Watch managed to procure on short notice.

(“If it’s taking this long to cook something up, we could just use poison,” Asajj had suggested, entirely not for selfless reasons. “We’re using the weedkiller tanks you Mandos use for farming, after all. We could just keep the weedkiller.”

“This is still a rescue mission,” Kast had replied severely. Unfortunately, despite being a fanatic terrorist and obeying Maul of all people and a habit of throwing tantrums about the horrible plight of Savage Opress, she wasn’t entirely braindead. “Damage is acceptable, but we won’t kill our brother.”

Maul had looked on, silent.)

Maul and Asajj are going to enter the ship first. That makes sense—both of them are assassins more than soldiers, they’re better than the Mandos at keeping quiet—and even if Maul will be a hindrance when they find Savage, she can use him as a distraction before that.

It feels weird, somehow, touching ground in front of the enemy’s ship. The unconscious guards on the ground are wearing clone trooper armor, which means that—yes, it means Death Watch got the drop on them and it means the soporific gas is effective, which is great, but Asajj didn’t expect this mission against Sidious to include a Grand Army of the Republic protection detail, and neither did Maul, though he appears far less perturbed by this information than Asajj is. Nothing before has linked Sidious to the Republic. She trusts the magicks she used to find this location, though. This is where the bondmate is being held.

Maul opens a control panel next to the ship’s door and plays around with a couple of screwdrivers, while Mando supercommandos direct their sedative gas into the ship’s pried-open air vents.

And… they’re in.

Too easy.

This was far too easy for a secret prison of the illusive Sith Lord, and Maul, apparently, thinks so too. He keeps glancing sideways at her while the supercommandos tie up the sedated soldiers outside and while they enter the ship’s galley, and he insists they shouldn’t split up.

“This location does not appear my Master’s—my former Master’s style,” he whispers in his clipped accent. “It’s neither desolate, nor are there plush red carpets. It’s not a torture dungeon.” Maul looks at Asajj, and his eyes gleam with suspicion. “If you have lied to me, you are dead. If this hurts my brother, you’ll wish you were.”

“This is the place. My sisters’ magicks are never wrong,” Asajj replies haughtily. It won’t do any good if both of them admit to their unease.

(Maul’s been vibrating faintly ever since Asajj broke into his brain to find Opress. It’s probably fear and anticipation, and most of all the superfluous awareness of him that she’s gained ever since exploiting both their bonds. Maybe he was always this high-strung.

“Someone’s attacking him,” he’d whispered to her just minutes before they reached Entralla, as if by joining their minds she had proven she cared. His eyes had been dark, agonized. In a movement that appeared entirely involuntary, he’d gripped at his neck as if looking for a pendant, and then he’d hugged himself, holding onto his torso and stomach as if his slippery entrails were ready to leak out.

Asajj had looked down and realized she was mirroring him.

When she slid her eyes half-shut, she could see the shadows of undulating metal cables.)

The ship, on the inside, just appears a standard Republic cruiser. It has a single long hallway that Asajj is pulled down by the worms in her gut, and Maul, frowning and broadcasting dread, follows.

They pass unconscious Republic clones at uneven intervals.

It’s so—ordinary. Asajj knows these ships. And there are no traps at all, just that pulsing connection drawing her forwards, shading and twisting, the memory of desolation and grief and that orange boy getting chocked (Kast’s eyes were so hard when she said, “He tried to give me his lightsaber, too, so I would have an easy time of killing him, if—when, he said, when he was used again to hurt his little brother,” that Asajj almost felt guilty) and everyone on Dathomir is dead and—

There.

She stops, and Maul comes to a halt behind her, ‘saber raised.

An open doorway, half-blocked by an armored redhead that seems vaguely familiar, and the beckoning hand of her sisters, and if Sidious doesn’t have the heart to provide a distraction for Maul then Asajj will just improvise.

“Back there, I think,” Asajj whispers, pointing at a random closed door to her left. “I can feel your brother in there.”

Maul’s eyes are wide. “I do not feel—are you sure?” he whispers, and he looks so young and hopeful bathed in the green glow he doesn’t understand and never had a right to wear that Asajj almost dares to believe her plan will work.

“I know these magicks,” Asajj drawls. “I don’t mind double-checking, but I thought you wanted him as alive as possible. He’s not doing well. Might get deep-fried at any moment, that’s not healthy for such a weak brain.”

It works. Maul bites back whatever kind of response he might have had, and he starts frantically working on slicing the door that was—her sisters are smiling upon Asajj—thankfully locked.

Asajj, meanwhile, tiptoes hurriedly forward and past the redhead—almost a decent glimpse of his head, why does she feel she knows him and—and inside the room she looks at a monster. The scene is arranged as if to mock her, a single bare cot in the middle of the room approximating a stone slab and the dimmed red electric lights a stand-in for the fire on the day she was tied to the boulder that tries to drown her. On the cot, as he was supine on the slab back then, lies unconscious Savage Opress.

Well. The used dog toy formerly known as Opress.

He’s always made her uncomfortable, even when they met. First, it was his silent bruised obsequiousness and the glances he’d shoot her after that arena fight, like he expected her to ravish him then and there just because she’d beaten him up. The sense that she’d stumbled into a world she didn’t understand drawn in silent rules and violence and sex—and Asajj has never liked that anxiety born of ignorance though she can and will tough it out and persevere, and only with the bond strangling her did she realize her stupid mistake—the sense that there was something hiding below her feet ready to devour her. He only got more obsequious and annoying after the ritual that tied Asajj to him, with his empty brainless eyes that somehow simultaneously said do whatever you want with me and I’ll kill you. She was happy to use him, if it got her traitorous ex-Master Dooku off her back, but she was at least as happy that the plan included Opress staying at Dooku’s side, not hers. Well, in the end, he was as useless as he was stupid and creepy, and Asajj had to fight Dooku on her own while Opress escaped his leash and used the power gifted to him by Talzin to harass innocent villagers and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He doesn’t have the body that Mother Talzin gave him anymore. Not that he ever deserved it.

Savage Opress, who is bound by ancient magicks to Asajj, looks like someone took his corpse and stuffed it full of a crashed spaceship debris in a desperately poor attempt at covering up an accident. The body Mother Talzin’s Dathomiri magicks gave him was stout, forceful, architected and executed with a keen eye and deep control, while whoever did this was a careless butcher. Asajj has seen carnage and pain, she’s fought and killed and maimed, and yet she has never seen anything as bestial as the body before her.

Savage Opress, who is making her share his torture through a telepathic bond, looks like a gutted carcass. This is what became of one of the three last survivors of Dathomir: worms writhe in and out of him, the things she’s been feeling like phantom maggots burrowing into her heart made real and she can see them feasting and seaming up his raw mottled shoulders and lap at the empty spots where someone tore out his hearts. He’s still conscious, though, just asleep. She can feel him feeling the worms. She can see him breathing, though he doesn’t need to, not without an intact torso. Not without hearts. She feels sick. So this is what has been calling out to her. What has been sliding into her mind, unstoppable and unwanted. This has violated her dreams.

Savage Opress, the bondmate Asajj came here to covertly murder, looks like death would be a mercy.

“Ventress, what are you playing at? The room was empty and Kenobi is here,” Maul hisses from somewhere behind her. “I told you. You’ll die for your betrayal—Savage…”

Asajj turns, expecting a fight, but Maul looks like the air was punched out of him, and he’s rooted to the doorway. The air around him tastes of abhorrence and dawning dread. He could have reached Savage before her, in her stupor—he could have jammed his ‘saber into her back—but now she’s jolted loose and ready to take her one chance at freedom.

To take mercy on Savage, for once in her life.

She drives her lightsaber into his right eye socket.

Maul’s scream behind her is vile, deeply inhuman and guttural and echoing over and over and over in the small room. It’s so loud her eye starts to hurt. His howl is the storm and the cave and the first drink in a lifetime. It’s green. It’s gentleness and sympathy he thought his Master had long driven out of the apprentice, but in teaching Savage he can’t help but refrain from using the techniques he once had endured himself. He doesn’t understand the reason—he is Sith and if he does not teach his apprentice to draw power from pain, he will have failed him. He doesn’t understand, but he feels something quake when he is called brother and when he notices he turned his back to Savage and never even expected to get hurt—he doesn’t understand, but somehow, he does. He loves Savage. Savage loves him. Maul was never meant for love, was made a weapon to be used and abused and discarded by a Master wielding power he’ll never attain, but somehow, Maul found this one person who loves him. Maul lost the person who loves him. Maul just lost him again. Maul won’t lose the person who loves him. He won’t. He can’t. He refuses. He loves—

And desperate love paints the room acid green. Greedy love tears the cot to tiny metal shreds. Unconditional love presses hot and painful into Asajj’s right eye, and she’s taking tiny measured steps toward Savage, in rhythmic unison with Maul and unstoppable no matter how hard she tries to take back her body.

Love, no matter what it takes, and both their green-bathed hands touch Savage.

All goes black.