#I hope the slight alterations and story set up made sense and stayed true to the spirit of the characters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kayteewritessteve · 4 years

Text

Love and War - Epilogue

Description: In a harsh medieval world, you set out on a perilous quest that will lead you onto a forbidden land. A land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King, one who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with an iron fist. You may not know exactly where this quest will end, but what you do know is you will forever be altered by it. And that knowledge alone is what truly terrifies you the most.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 10,400 ish. Craaaap. I did it again.

Pairing: Medieval!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Violence. Curse words. Mentions of fears and potentially brutal medieval tactics. Most likely more to come down the road. Please don’t let these warnings scare you too much, give the story a try before you judge it.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader either, so I do proudly own all these errors and this story, so there’s that.

This is a ridiculous fluff-fest and far too much information, so be ready for that and this is your fair warning that this is a beast of a chapter. Ha! Pun intended. So I hope you enjoy lovelies! And thank you for reading, reblogging and loving this story so much. That means the world to me!

The morning sun shines in through the sheer window coverings, splaying a stream of the soft glow across your face. It’s not enough to blind you, but enough to rouse you. Slowly peaking open your eyes, you take in the world around you. The first thing that you notice is the warmth and pressure across your bare back, and waist. Steve, Alarick, Ari, it doesn’t matter which name you use, they all stand for your husband. The man you love more than anything, or anyone, on any plane. Your true Mate.

His large arm is draped across you, your bare back pressed up against the soft, yet firm, skin of his wide chest. You feel the involuntary smile spread across your lips as your reality sets in. You are snuggled up to the only man you love, your husband. This is right where you want to be, for eternity. This is exactly how you want to wake and meet the day, everyday.

You shift slightly, enough to glance over your shoulder to peer at the beautiful God resting peacefully behind you. Your movement causes him to tighten his hold just a little, pulling your smaller form closer to his as a result.

Your eyes move slowly across his relaxed features, his luscious eyelashes resting upon his high cheeks, his chiseled jawline, his strong nose and beautiful, fair completion. Finally landing on your favourite feature—at least when he is asleep and his eyes are closed—his pouty, plump lips that belong to you, and only you.

You take another moment just to stare, just to really take him in, in his entirety. You want to stay like this forever, truly you do, you want to stay wrapped up completely in these sheets, and warm limbs. But the day calls for you to meet it, the birds chirping, the sun shinning, the slight murmur of voices outside in the distance. With a content sigh you begin to slowly and gently untangle yourself from the man you love, and somewhat reluctantly begin to climb from the bed. Gently lifting the arm draped across you as you slip out from beneath it and then lay his upon the warm bed. You keep your eyes on him as you go, hoping you can escape without waking him. You both had a long, and wonderful, evening and he could probably use the rest.

He sighs slightly as he rolls to his stomach and buries his face among the pillows, but he doesn’t wake.

You tiptoe away softly and grab the silk rob from the floor where it had been discarded the evening before. Slipping it on as you move towards the bath room, relieving yourself quickly before returning to the main room. Your eyes land on the larger than life form of your husband, his wide, bare back on display as the sheets cover only the lower half of his body. Though one of his large legs is sticking out from it’s confines and his arms cradle the pillow beneath his head. The sight alone of him blissfully resting causes another smile to grace your lips.

The glorious sun shinning in catches your attention and you make your way towards the doors. Pulling one open as you step out onto the balcony that just so happens to overlook the garden you adore so much. The garden that, now that you have your memories back, you realize closely resembles the one you had in Mytikas. They have a striking resemblance to each other, and you are sure it was planned that way, entirely. You are positive Ari build these gardens as a way to give you a piece of home, to make you feel more at home here. Now that you remember, your reasoning behind loving the garden so much makes perfect sense. Even in your spellbound mind, something told you that the garden was safe, was familiar, was your sanctuary. You loved it even more now, as you recalled all the times you enjoyed your first garden. The very place you first officially met your Ari, after years of admiring him from afar.

You stepped through the stone archway into the little area of the heavens for which you called your own. The lovely floral scents lingered in the air around you, and you inhaled them deeply, allowing them to soothe you. This little space is where you felt the most at home, the most like yourself.

You built, grew and nurtured this little haven to be your place of refuge, your place to seek calm and inner peace. To acquire solace in your times of need. It was your sanctuary, among other things, and you relished every moment you spent here. Be it just taking in the beauty, sketching the flora and occasional passerine birds, and sometimes even enjoying the company of your closest confidants and friends.

Though that last one was few and far between, you didn’t like sharing your asylum with others. And if someone did enter this area without your consent, it was always just because they were seeking you out and knew exactly where you’d be hiding. But that didn’t happen often either, most knew to leave you be in this place. That if you were here, you didn’t wish to be disturbed.

But all of that changed on that crucial day, as you ventured deeper into your colourful haven, you noticed instantly that you weren’t alone there. Your ears perked up to a distinct scratching sound, one not foreign to your senses. One that could only be made by a pencil meeting stiff parchment.

You peeked around, curious, but more so slightly angered by whoever would dare to enter your haven, both uninvited and unannounced. You would gladly inform them of their impudent intrusion and lack of good sense. How dare someone encroach on your space? Who did they think they were, Athos?

As you quietly made your way towards the noise, using a large rose bush to hide you, you peeked out at the culprit. And the moment your eyes landed on him, you took a sharp intake of breath and quickly shifted back behind the bush, afraid he might have seen you.

He was the very last person you ever expected to have seen there, in that place of solace. But as you thought on it more, you realized that who better to seek refuge in a serene place such as that, than the God of War himself? If anyone should have been allowed to enjoy your haven, it should have been him. The many horrible things he had probably seen and endured, you couldn't even begin to imagine. That made a grip of sadness take hold on your heart, and all you wanted to do was go to him and comfort him in any way that you could.

But you didn’t know him, you had only ever admired him from afar. And admired him you had, to a great extent and for long periods of time. It was bordering on dastardly, if you were being honest.

You peered around the bush, allowing yourself a more thorough look at the man of your desires, the perfect male specimen for which you had fantasized and dreamed about more times than you’d have cared to admit, but yet the only being you’d feared approaching the most. You idolized him and all he’d accomplished, you held him in such high esteem and regard, that you feared he’d never live up to your imaginations of him. And speaking to him, in the flesh, would only have proved to disenchant your notions of the man behind the armour.

That and the fact that just being in the same area as him had always caused you to be a flustered, mumbling mess, and that was very much unlike you. You’d never gotten frazzled by anyone, let alone a man. You were the Goddess of Love, for crying out loud, enticing and rendering others to be attracted and drawn to you, was in your blood, your nature. It came naturally to you, sometimes even without your own knowledge.

But this man, this God, he disarmed you, and left you a powerless and pitiful version of yourself.

Your eyes drifted slowly over his large imposing form, drinking in the very sight of him. From his large thighs, to his broad shoulders, to his impressive arms and finally, the pièce de résistance, his eternal and unwaveringly beautiful face. His eyes that resembled a sea during a storm, his jaw that rivalled the sharp lines and strength of diamonds, his hair that resembled the golden hue of wheat on a summer's day, and finally his plump lips that left you breathless and longing to feel them upon your skin. He was perfection personified, and just being in his presence left you a weak, muddled mess.

You took a deep, shuttering and silent breath, then released it out slowly as you focused your attentions onto what exactly he was doing there. You’d noticed the sketchbook upon his lap, and the pencil clasped delicately in his hand, and then your eyes had drifted up and noticed the slight furrow in his brows, as if he had been entirely focused and lost in his actions.

The realization that he was an artist, such as yourself, was enlightening. To say the least. You never would have pegged him as such, he’d seemed far too brutish and masculine to ever have partaken in something so dainty and studious. You had clearly misjudged him, seen the cover and assumed you knew what the inside held. You’d never been more pleased to be proven wrong, and would happily take that as a life lesson to never judge a book by it’s cover. Especially where the God of War was concerned.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to come join me?” his deep, delectable voice dominated the quiet space. And had caught you completely off guard, you were sure you’d been as silent as a mouse? How had he heard you? He hadn’t even so much as glanced up at you yet, he just kept his eyes and focus on the parchment in his lap. You furrowed your brows, as a warm blush had taken over your cheeks. How embarrassing to have been caught gawking at him like a love-stuck teen. But what had given you away? How had he known you were there?

With a deep breath in, you stepped out from behind your hiding place and moved a little closer to him, keeping your eyes down in shame. “I apologize, Alarick, I didn’t mean to intrude upon you.”

You heard, more than saw, him shift, and your eyes slowly raised to peer through your lashes at him, noticing that he was looking directly at you. “I believe it is I who has intruded upon you. This is your sacred space, after all,” he stood and took small steps towards you. And your heart had skipped a beat at the close proximity to him. “I would apologize for outstaying my welcome, but I am not at all sorry for the ethereal beauty for which now greets me. Had I left earlier, I’d have truly missed out.”

Your traitorous heart had skipped another beat, and words seemed to have escaped you in that moment. You dropped your eyes to the ground again, as one of your free hands had come up to tuck some wayward tendrils of hair behind your ear. A nervous action for which you hadn’t partaken in, in a very long time. What was this man doing to you?!

Two feet entered your vision, as two warm fingers gently appeared under your chin, delicately lifting your face upward. You met his eyes and the warmth within them caught you off guard again. “Don’t hide from me, you have no reason to hide. You are Y/N, the Goddess of Love. You bring entire armies of men to their knees with just a look. You embody everything that is lovely, pure and powerful in this world. You evoke envy, desire, or longing from all beings, and therefore you bow to no one. You cower away from no one, especially me. It is I who should be bowing to you.” His eyes slowly traced your face, your every detail and feature, “you are a moon among mere stars, always remember that.”

You nodded dumbly, his words continued to leave you entirely speechless and dazed. That action was rewarded with a deep and sensual chuckle from the large God that had been before you. And without your consent, your eyes had dropped down to watch as his lips slowly quirk up into a seductive grin before meeting his eye once again. But luckily for you, his laugh had helped to free you from your frazzled state and you’d slowly taken a step back, clearing your throat as you did. “Thank you for your kind words, I shall keep them in mind for the future.”

“As I hope you do,” his grin only grew as he fully took in your obviously flustered state.

Changing the atmosphere suddenly seemed like a very smart idea indeed. You glanced passed him at the discarded sketchbook, “I didn’t know you enjoyed drawing. What were you working on?” You glanced back to him, curious as to the hidden depths of this man.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sketchbook then back to you, and you could see that the tables had turned and he was the nervous one all of a sudden. A large hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, “just something that captivates me.”

His cryptic answer had left you even more curious, you went to step around him to move towards the bench, gesturing to the book, “may I see?”

He quickly beat you to the bench and picked up the sketchbook, closing it and clasping it firming in his hand, at his side. “It’s not that great, and it’s done yet.”

“That’s alright,” you smiled encouragingly, “I understand. I don’t like to show my unfinished work either.” You took a seat on the bench and patted the spot beside you, “I was planning to draw as well, care to stay and keep me company? I promise not to look at your work until you choose to show me, but you must promise the same in return.”

He smiled and moved to sit beside you, “of course, and I promise.”

You both settled in, as a comfortable quiet filled the air and you focused on your individual pieces, you’d normally prefered to be alone when you sketched, but something about having Alarick there with you, left you all warm and fuzzy inside. You could have easily gotten used to that, he had such a calm presence about him, which was rather odd considering who he is, and what he stood for.

After a little while, a lingering question nagged to be asked. It really wasn’t that important, but once again, your curiosity had gotten the better of you. “Alarick?” You softly probed, easing you both out of the silence, gently. “May I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up to meet your eyes, a small patch of his hair had fallen over his forehead as he did. “Of course.”

“How did you know I was watching you?” You raised a question brow at him.

He smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, “I’m not the God of War for nothing, I can always tell when someone is sneaking up on me.” His fingers brushed back the wayward strands as he lowered his head, and focused back on his sketch. And you believed that to be the end of his words, but then he’d whispered softly, as if the admission hadn’t actually been meant to be let out. “Plus it is nearly impossible for me to ignore your presence, no matter how hard I may try.” He sighed deeply, as if he was tirelessly weighed down by his revelation, “the very moment you enter a room, I am profoundly aware of it.”

“You are very open with your words, it’s rather refreshing,” you smiled, glad that courage was clearly another one of his traits, as without it, you’d have never learned how he felt.

“I have nothing to hide,” he shrugged. “At least not where it pertains to you.”

You placed a hand gently on his forearm, drawing his attentions back to you. “If it’s any consolation, I feel the same ways towards you. Your mere presence alone leaves me a babbling and flustered mess.”

He grinned, seemingly happy with your confession, “is that the reason for why you’ve never approached me before? Why we’ve never spoken so much as a single word to each other, until today?”

You nodded, “that’s my reasonings for it. Are they yours also?”

He chuckled, nodding his head, “yes, they are, among a few others, as well.”

“Such as?” You inquired, playfully.

He just gave you a playful look in return, “I can’t spill all my secrets at once, or else you’d have no reason to see me again.”

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” You giggled quietly.

“No, we can’t,” he adamantly shook his head. “Not now. Not when I’ve finally gotten my Moons attention.”

You felt the blush as it swept over your features, at the same time that you grinned like an insane person. “Well, the jest’s on you, because you always had it.”

That earned you a deep, booming laugh from the tower of a man near you. And from that day on, you no longer regarded your garden as your solitary sanctuary, you no longer loathed company within its stone walls—well, you no longer disliked the company of one person, and one person only. Because now your haven felt cold and lonely without the warm presence of the beautiful God beside you.

You both would meet every chance you got in that very garden, and it was on one of those many meetings that he presented you with the sketch he’d been working on that first day. And it turned out to be a stunning picture of you that he’d drawn mainly from memory. You cherished it immensely for centuries to come.

Then over the following time together you learned all about the man under the armour. And it goes without saying that you fell head over heels in love with him, even though you believe you’d loved him even before this pivotal day. And every one to follow only cemented that love so deep into your bones that nothing could eradicate it from your very being. And you feared that without your love for him, you’d become frail and shaky, and unable to stand under your own freewill or power.

Some might see a love this strong as a weakness, as a codependency that only stands to strip you of your vigor. But it was the polar opposite of that, he strengthened you, he completed you. He made you a more indestructible and resilient you.

Because who better to love so deeply and wholeheartedly, then the Goddess of Love herself? And who better to fortify and embolden, then the God of War himself?

You both stood to better the other in an unwavering way. A perfect match, one they’d write about for centuries to come. A love so deep and lasting that others would strive to attain even a mere sliver of it.

A feeling of warmth directly behind you brings you back to the present, just as two large hands slide around your waist and pull you flush against a solid form. Ari.

One of his hands begins to slowly move up the front of you, ghosting through the valley of your chest and coming to rest at your chin. Where he gently shifts your head a little to gain access to your neck, which you willingly give. Closing your eyes as you relax back into his larger form.

He presses a soft kiss on your shoulder, then on the seem of your neck, and then finally just below your ear, which causes a content sigh to leave your lips as a warmth spreads throughout your body. This man does things to you, exceptional and delicious things.

“Good morning, My Moon,” he murmurs softly against your skin. “You worried me when I woke up and didn’t find you beside me.”

You exhale, opening yours eyes and taking one final look at the garden he gifted you. Then you stand up straight and shift around to face him, wrapping your arms around his waste as his move up to rest around your shoulders. You take in a deep breath of the glorious smell that is known to you as just simply Ari.

“I’m sorry, My Love,” you lean forward as kiss the space between his bare pecs before resting your cheek upon his warm and solid chest. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

His arms tighten momentarily around you, as if to assure himself that you are here and in his arms. “It’s okay, the view I was met with was well worth the worry,” he murmurs as he nuzzles into your neck.

You giggle quietly, because you know he is talking about you, standing on the balcony in only a small, thin silk robe, looking entirely sated and satisfied. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I don’t think so,” he quickly says, as his hands start to wander around your smaller form. “I know so.”

You smile to yourself at his words, and as much as you want to fall back into bed with this large soft man of yours, you know if you do that neither of you will leave this room the whole day through. So as hard as it is, you slowly detach yourself from his glorious embrace and glance up at him. Not missing the small pout now upon his lips, though you know he is only playing it up. “Now none of that,” you giggle, pointing at his lips. “We have much to do today, and if we start that now, we won’t leave this room till nightfall.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he grins, raising a brow at you. “Sounds like a perfect way to spend a day.”

“I would agree with you there, but you have work to do and I have a few things I need to see to, as well,” you say as you step around him and head back into your shared room. “Plus the ladies will be here soon to help me dress, I’d think them all very scandalized to walk in on that,” you grin over your shoulder at him as you venture over to the door to grab your breakfast.

With how things between you and Ari have been, you’ve barely left the room since you’ve been reunited, so your meals are brought up and left on a tray outside your room for whenever you are in a state to eat. Much like now, for instance.

You creak open the door to the hall, finding the tray directly outside it and pulling it into the room. Once you’ve brought it over to the couch, because you are smart enough to know that going anywhere near the bed will result in neither of you leaving this room today, you take a seat and place a napkin on your lap. Then once settled you glance over at your husband who is still standing on the deck, but with his back to you as he also admires the view, “hungry, darling?”

He chuckles and turns to face you, before he slowly makes his way over to you,. “I am, but not for food.” The grin on his face is the cheekiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you’ve known this man for centuries.

You snort, which is very unladylike but you can’t help it. “You’re insatiable, and that’s saying a lot coming from the Goddess of Love,” you laugh and shake your head as you focus back on the food in front of you. Trying your damnedest to not look at his half naked form or that sexy grin too long, as you know if you do, all reasonable thought will escape you and you will gladly agree to anything he desires. Without so much as a second thought.

“Only where you’re concerned. I just always want to have my hands all over you,” he sits down beside you on the couch, his large, warm body right up against your smaller one. “I still can’t believe you’re here. And I’m not ready to share you just yet, let alone have you leave my side,” he sighs then grabs some food and places it on a plate for himself.

You frown a little at his words, you can’t imagine all he went through while you were missing. You were lucky enough to have slept through the whole thing, then when you finally did rise, you remembered nothing. Ari didn’t have that luxury, he felt and lived through the whole ordeal. He knew you were gone, he missed you deeply, and beat himself up for not only losing you, but for his inability to find you. That couldn’t have been an easy place for anyone to be, let alone the God of War himself.

You place a hand on his forearm, drawing his attention to you, “I know, My Love, and I’m so sorry for all that you had to endure,” you hesitate, wondering if you should move forward with your line of thought. You’d avoided this topic all week for fear it would sully the mood. And because you weren’t entirely ready to hear it, as you just wanted to focus on being with Ari and living in that moment, fully and entirely. But your curiosity always wins out eventually. “Will you tell me about it? About how it all came to pass, for you?”

He sighs, side eyeing you for a second while he finishes chewing his food and then he sets his plate down. Reaching over for you, he tugs you gently into his lap, and you end up straddling his hips. But you aren’t at all surprised, you figure he needs to be touching you entirely in order to relive this story.

Your hands wrap around his neck, and you bury your fingers into his hair, stroking the soft strands languidly to help put him more at ease.

He sighs again, but in content this time, before he murmurs, “where do I even start?”

You figure it’s less a question for you, and more him trying to build himself up, but answer it anyways. “Start with your talk with Athos.”

He shakes his head, chuckling softly, “he was livid. Beyond so, actually. But his opinions on us or our union hold no weight with me. We fought, and in the end I informed him that it was done and you were mine, and nothing he said mattered. Then I left and went back to your room,” he trails off and you lean forward to kiss his forehead.

He gives you a small smile, his hands aimlessly rubbing your back, as he leans forward and places a quick, chaste kiss upon your lips. “When I returned, you were nowhere to be found,” he takes a shuttering breath, just the memory alone clearly hurting him immensely. “I searched for you, I ripped the Heavens apart to find you. And when that endeavour proved fruitless, I fell from the Heavens and began to tirelessly search the mortal plane. Harlin, Premala, and The Graces came with me. They had all helped in my scouring of Mytikas, and they all chose to fall with me in my pursuit of you.“

A wave of immense love crashes over you, these 6 people of whom mean the world to you, all chose to leave behind their lives to find you. To search for you. You’ve never felt more loved, or cherished then in this exact moment. And that’s saying something with the sweet and romantic man currently below you, who never ceases to go out of his way to show you just how much you mean to him.

“We spent centuries looking for you,” he glances around slowly, “this kingdom started as merely a base camp. Somewhere to reconvene and plan a new course of action after our most recent efforts had failed. It was just a few small structures and tents in the beginning.” He looks back to you, “after a few centuries, we figured more permanent dwellings would be smart. So we build this castle and everything around it followed in the coming years. I was reluctant to build this place at first, I wasn’t ready to admit that I still hadn’t found you, and that I might never find you. Putting up permanent walls meant I’d failed, meant I knew I’d continue to fail you. I wasn’t ready for that,” he cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheek bone. “But Premala beat it into me that when we did find you, because we would, that you’d need somewhere to return to. That you’d need a home to call your own, because returning to Mytikas wasn’t really an option anymore. Not with Athos’ outrage for our union, and Hepha’s scheming. It wouldn’t have been safe to return. So I finally conceded and we began to build the next day.”

You smile, “how did the Lycans come to be?”

Steve chuckles, “that’s actually a funny story. I was out searching one day, and had stumbled upon a pack of wolves. They hadn’t noticed me, and I proceeded to watch them, I ended up watching them for weeks and noticing how they worked together. How they tracked and hunted their prey as a team, how they had a hierarchy that they respected deeply. It gave me an idea, but I just needed help executing it. So I summed Amaris for help, I told her of my idea and she jumped at the chance to help. She’d been worried by the news of your disappearance and with every passing century she also grew more and more distraught, by the lack of progress. She couldn’t help in the search efforts herself, but she gifted me the army I needed. She created and gave life to the very Lycan that builds up this kingdom. They are immortal, they never age, and if left alone they will walk this plane for eternity. However, all powerful things need a weakness of some sort, or they would stand to destroy the balance. So they can be killed by force, but it’s not an easy feat and most would never even be able to get close to beating a Lycan in battle. Let alone killing one. They are truly the perfect soldiers,” he chuckles. “She then transformed myself, Harlin, Premala and The Graces into Lycans as well, so we could not only keep up with them, but also control them and partake in the mind link that they all shared.”

You smile, at both the story and the thought of Amaris, The Goddess of the hunt, the forests and mainly the Moon, helping in Ari’s efforts to find you. She is a dear friend to you, more like a sister and it warms your heart to know she jumped at the chance to aid in the search efforts. Even if not with her own body, but instead with her gifts, the point still stands. “How is Amaris? Does she know you’ve found me?”

“She is good, from what I hear,” he smiles, “Premala sent word to her that you’d finally been found, unharmed and well. She sends her regards and well wishes. And plans to visit us soon,” he grins widely, “once we get our centuries worth of ‘carnal needs’ are out of the way, and are actually willing and available for company.” He shakes his head, mirth dancing in his eyes, “Her words, not mine.”

You laugh at that, she knows you both so well. “She would say something like that.”

The laughter dies down and only one part still sits unanswered in your mind, “and what of the amnesia?”

Those words kill the mirth in his eyes, making way for an overwhelming pain and regret to take hold. Your fingers continue to stroke his hair, shifting yourself a little closer to him and resting your cheek upon his shoulder, in every effort to comfort him.

He sighs and his arms tighten around your waist, “after so long of searching for you, and all my efforts coming up empty. I couldn’t take it anymore, I was becoming hopeless and distressed. I started to get more snappy with everyone, I hardly stopped searching, barely slept, and could not focus on anything other than finding you. I had horrific mood swings, and had slowly become more and more violent with everyone around me. But I refused to listen to anyone, not even Harlin.” He shakes his head, “it wasn’t until I’d almost killed an entire innocent village that I finally saw how far I’d fallen. I couldn’t continue on the way I was, but I couldn’t give up on finding you either.” He leans back slightly and you do the same, he cups your cheeks, holding you still as his eyes drift all over your face. After a moment of that, he leans forward and kisses your lips sweetly, before resting his forehead on yours. “So Premala set out to track down a powerful sorcerous that she’d heard about in her travels. We weren’t sure if she was real or merely a legend, but she managed to track down the coven that she hailed from and learned she’d vanished centuries earlier. However, there were two other witches that had nearly the same powers as Medea. One of which was her daughter, who had also disappeared around the same time that Medea did—“

You lean back abruptly, cutting him off, “Wanda.”

He nods, “yeah. The other was Medea’s apprentice, a woman by the name of Maria. Premala was able to gain an audience with her, and told her of our story and the issues that were arising because of it. And Maria offered to help, though she asked for a favour in return.”

“What was it?” You hesitantly ask.

“Nothing bad, My Moon,” he soothes, rubbing your back. “I just had to swear on the lives of every one of my Lycans that we’d never harm a single witch, unless they attacked us first. We were to keep them safe and protected for eternity. We agreed to her terms and she casted the spell to make every one of us forget. Though I didn’t want to entirely give up on you, I requested that she give me some sort of way to recognize you. Some sort of queue to tell me you were important to me, and some way to allow me to continue to search for you. Yet it wouldn’t become my only thought.”

“Mates,” you say slowly, piecing it all together in your mind.

“She created the Mates bond for all Lycans, as a thank you for the years of service my Lycans would dedicate to protecting her kind. That was easy for her to do, by tapping into the souls of each Lycan and linking them. However, as Gods, we don’t have souls. So she came up with an idea to make it work for us. And thanks to the help of one of your dresses, that Premala had used to give the Lycans your scent. Maria was able to use your scent to link us, so as soon as I picked up on your smell, it would trigger the ‘Mates Bond’. But we needed something to break the spell once we finally found you, a way to return all the memories to us. A word that would act as the key.”

You nod, softly saying, “my nickname for you.”

He nods back, “yes, I figured when I did finally find you, that you’d likely call me that right away. Then the spell would be broken and all would be returned.” He shakes his head now, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest, “I never expected Hepha to have wiped your memories as well. If you hadn’t managed to get them back, the spell never would have been broken.” He furrows his brows and looks deep into your eyes, “I can’t imagine never remembering our lives before. The first time I saw you, the day we met, and all the days to follow.” His hand caresses down your head, and to the ends of your hair, where he proceeds to twist a small section of your hair gently around his finger, as he watches the action closely. Then his eyes flick to yours, “I’m so glad you remembered. I’m so glad you freed us all, but most importantly, I’m so glad that you found me. All the years I searched for you, and in the end, it was you who rescued me.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a loving kiss to his lips, “I’ll always rescue you, My Love. Just as I know you’d do for me.”

“Without even a second thought,” he murmurs, pulling you into him more.

You give in to his whims for a moment before pulling back abruptly, “wait, but why the name changes?”

He chuckles, “we figured it would be a little odd to keep the Godly names. And if I kept mine, we ran the risk of someone else shortening the name and accidentally breaking the spell. I didn’t want a single other person calling me Ari, not until you did. So I opted for the name change, and the others just decided to follow suit,” he shrugs.

“Makes sense,” you smile sweetly, “but mark my words, if another ever calls you Ari, I may have to borrow Premala’s alter ego, Dabria, for a day or two.” You warn half playfully and half honestly.

This elicits another deep and glorious laugh from the man below you, “don’t worry, My Moon. No other would dare call me that, unless they wished to have the wrath of two Gods thrust upon them.” He kissed the tip of your nose, “Your nickname for me is safe, and only for your lips.”

You giggle, but just as you are about to speak a knock on the bedroom door kills those words in your throat.

“Well, looks like they found us,” you giggle as you climb off Ari’s lap and fix your robe. But before you can say anything more, Alarick stands and shields your half naked form from the door with his own.

“Come in,” he says gruffly. Clearly cranky for the interruption.

Harlin opens the door and locks his eyes on Alarick, not glancing around the room at all. You figure it’s to make sure he doesn’t see you in whichever level of dress you may currently be in. “Sorry to bother you, Alarick. But we need you to see to a few pressing matters.”

Ari nods, “okay. I’ll just get dressed and meet you in my office.”

“Thank Gods,” Harlin sighs out quietly. But you don’t miss it. “I don’t know how to do this every day, dealing with all these whiney people and their bullshit is fucking exhausting,” he adds in a mumble before shaking his head and leaving the room, closing the door behind him softly.

You and Ari lock eyes and then burst out laughing. “The poor baby,” you say in a mocking coo, shaking your head. “One week and he is already fed up.”

Your husband chuckles, “he is going to be so angry when I inform him that I am relinquishing half of my duties to him and Premala.”

“What?” You freeze, wide eyed and gaping, “you are?”

He smirks and steps towards you, gently closing your dropped jaw with his fingers under your chin, then kisses you on the top of your head. “I am. I threw myself into all the work as a distraction, even without realizing that’s why I was doing it. But now that I have you back, I want to have some free time to get to actually be with you. So Premala and Harlin will take over to help rule the kingdom, and allow me more time to do other,” he gives you a full once over, “more important things.”

You giggle, blushing deeply at what he just implied. It doesn’t matter how many centuries you spend with this man, or how many nights you find yourself tangled up in him, or how many times he compliments or flirts with you. Your reactions to him never change, they never cease. He will never fail to fluster and frazzle you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

But right now, you both have things to attend to, so you gently push him away, pointing a stern finger at him. “Keep those hands, eyes and compliments to yourself, Mister. Now go get dressed, no more distracting me.”

He smirks, putting his hands up in submission, “fine, fine. But I make no promises about my eyes, those have a mind of there own,” and as if to prove his point, they drift languidly over your whole form. “They are completely out of my control.”

You gasp playfully, pretending to be scandalized as you try to cover yourself more with your flimsy silk robe. “How dare you, Sir! I am a lady! And I am shocked and appealed by your wandering eyes!”

He laughs but it quickly makes way for a possessive and slightly dark glint to fill his eyes, “oh, I’m well aware that you’re a lady, and I can show you exactly how I know that fact, if you’d like?”

And before you can even blink he playfully lunges towards you to grab for you. You shriek and quickly dodge he incoming hands, as you run to the bath room and slam the door in his face, throwing the latch in place quickly.

His glorious laugh filters through the door. “This puny door won’t protect you from me, My Moon. I could huff and puff, and blow this thing down, in mere seconds.”

“But you won’t,” you quickly interject. “Because you have to get dressed. Very important matters to attend to, and what have you.”

He chuckles once more, “you are correct. You are safe for now, but later tonight is a different matter entirely.”

“Then I shall look forward to tonight.”

After a few minutes of hiding in the bath room, the sound of your door opening and closing signals that the coast is clear. You quietly open the door and peek out, noticing that you are, in fact, now alone in the room. You exhale a deep breath and venture out into the main room, but just as you do, an abrupt cluster of knocks make you jump.

You pull the robe tighter around you, “Come in.”

The door creaks open and then 3 faces you’d recognize anywhere appear before you. The 3 Graces, your handmaidens and closest confidants—Well, besides Premala.

The 4 of you just stand there, silently staring at each other, but after a moment the 3 ladies surge forward and engulf you in a warm and tight embrace. The abrupt impact causes a boisterous and joyful laugh to rip from you, as tears well up in your eyes.

“We missed you so much,” Aalin or Pepper says, leaning back to take you in.

While Edden, or Hope, wipes the stray tears from her eyes, and affirms Aalins sentiments, “so much.”

You giggle as you notice that Tyranna or Hilde is still wrapped around you, refusing to release you from her death grip. She glances up at you from your place, and warns, “if you ever vanish on us like that again, there will be hell to pay.”

You shake your head, chuckling a little more at her attempt to be stern and menacing. “I promise to never disappear again,” you kiss the top of her head, “well, as much as I can promise given that it wasn’t my choice to leave in the first—“

“Shh!” she cuts you off. “Let’s just leave it as you will do your best to keep that promise.”

“Of course,” you grin down at her as she finally detaches from you. You take a moment to just look over the 3 beautiful women before you, “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you three.” You sniffle as a wave of guilt overcomes you, wiping away the few fallen tears.

“You owe us no apologies, Y/N,” Aalin starts, moving forward to grasp your hand in hers. “We didn’t recognize you either. We were all under spells to forget.”

“Yes,” Edden nods in eager agreement, taking your free hand in her own, “it is no ones fault. The point is we all remember now.”

“And we will never forget again,” Tyranna finishes vehemently, as she finishes the link by taking Aalins and Eddens hands in her own, and creating a full circle.

You smile, your heart feeling so full thanks to the three lovely, and amazing women before you. “I can’t believe you all fell for me. I can never thank you enough.”

“And we’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Aalin affirms and the two others nod in agreement.

“Okay, no more tears,” Tyranna says, “let’s get you dressed.”

And with that, the three ladies set out to prepare you to meet the glorious day.

Just as the girls are finishing up there is a knock on your door, Edden goes to open it and finds Sam standing behind it. He smiles at the ladies, who quickly say their goodbyes, giving you a few final hugs and then they take their leave. Sam steps back to allow them out of the room and then he steps in, giving you a glorious, toothy smile. “Ready to finally get out of this room?” He asks cheekily.

And you can’t help it, you snort loudly at that. “I am. It will be nice to properly stretch my legs, and make sure you haven’t burned half the castle down in our absence.”

He scoffs, “that was one time! And it was only a set of drapes.” He crosses his arms, “really ugly drapes if I’m being honest, so I did this kingdom a service.”

You burst out laughing, Ari having told you the story of the day Sam nearly burnt the castle to the ground. “I heard it was an entire hallway,” you correct as you make your way towards the door.

He snorts, as he opens the door for you. “Well it’s not my fault they chose to have drapes decorate the whole length of the hallway. That’s just poor planning,” he laughs, shaking his head.

“I’d have paid good money to see your face as all of that was happening,” you laugh at the thought of it, as you both start to make your way down to the garden. Since being here, you no longer held this immense need to keep the gardens entirely to yourself. They had actually become a place of gathering, where you’d go and normally find others, or where they’d find you. You shared your sanctuary now, with all the people you love and care for.

“It was a rather funny day,” he concedes, “though I was sure Ste—“ he abruptly cuts himself off, groaning, “sorry, Alarick.” He shakes his head, “I was sure he was going to pop a blood vessel that day. And I’ve never seen,” he hesitates again, “Harlin, laugh so hard in my life. He’s never let me live that down, even to this day.”

“And I don’t think he will either,” you agree through a giggle. “You know, you don’t have to correct their names, right? We all know that you’ve known them almost exclusively as Steve and Bucky. No one will be offended if you continue go call them as such, and that we will still all know exactly who you are referring to, when you do.”

He nods, “I’m trying to get with the new names, but it’s hard. I spent centuries calling them those names,” he sighs, “not an easy thing to change after so long.”

You lay a gentle hand on his forearm as you both head down the stairs. “I know, and we all understand that. They aren’t bother by being called those names, and they still have moments where they call each other by the different ones. It will take time, but I like to believe both names are theirs now. They mark two very different and important times in their lives, and both of those personas deserve recognition for that.”

He nods, placing his hand over yours and squeezing gently. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Anytime,” you smile up at him. “So how have you been?”

He grins, “amazing, actually.”

The silence that follows his admission leaves you curious, “care to elaborate on that?”

“I found my mate,” he says casually but the words cause you to halt your steps, forcing him to as well.

“What?!” You gap, wide eyed at him, “really?! But how?!”

His smile only grows, “after the almost battle against Hepha, a few of us were sent out to track down Brock. When we got to the town Hepha had essentially taken over by force, we tracked down Brock and along the way I stumbled upon her.”

“That’s wonderful news, Sammy!” You squeal in excitement, bouncing on the spot before lunging at him to give him a hug for which he returns. “I’m so happy for you! Where is she now?” You pull back to look up at him.

“She is here, but she isn’t a Lycan. So it is slow going, she isn’t sure how she feels about me just yet, but she knows she is drawn to me in some way. So only time will tell if she accepts me or not,” he shrugs nonchalantly but you can tell it’s a sore spot for him. You can’t imagine the feeling of rejection when a Mate doesn’t share your same feelings in return. Not that you are even fully aware of the extent of the Mate Bond to a Lycan, to begin with.

“If you want me to talk to her, I’d be more then willing,” you offer, starting to walk again.

“Really?” He looks down at you, eyes wide, “you’d do that for me?”

You scoff, “like that’s a surprise. You know I’d do anything for you, you nincompoop. If she wants to hear about all of this from another outsider, I’d be more than willing to tell her my side of the experience and help teach her all about Lycans, and their Mates.”

He grins, nodding his head slowly. “Thanks, Y/N. I’m sure that would help her immensely, and in turn would greatly help me.”

“No sweat,” you shrug, “so wait, you guys found Charandas?” You shake your head then quickly correct yourself, “sorry, you know him as Brock.”

“We did,” he nods, as you both reach the bottom of the stairs. “He is being held in the dungeon for questioning at the moment. Steve wants to find out where he stands on all of this, and if his loyalties to Hepha will cause him to seek him out and free him. As Brock is also a God, he can’t be killed either. So Wanda is on standby just incase we have to lock him away with Hepha.”

You nod, “that reminds me, how is Wanda? And Pietro?” You haven’t seen them since they vanished with Hepha on that pivotal day. “Are they well?”

You both make your way down the bright, windowed hallway, the final step before you enter out into the garden.

“They are well,” he informs, but just as you make your way outside his head gestures to something before you and you furrow your brows in confusion. “But I’ll let them elaborate on that themselves.”

At his words your eyes flick forward and land on your two siblings, standing among the lush flowers. You gasp and instantly release Sam’s arm, bolting forward to wrap them in a hug. It may have only been a week without them, but you missed them both dearly.

They both embrace you back, and after a few moments you all pull away. “How are you both?” You ask eagerly, your eyes moving back and forth between the two siblings. “Did anything exciting happen while I was hidden away?”

“We are good,” Wanda smiles, glancing over at Pietro.

The aforementioned nods and adds, “we are settling in well here. We returned home after locking Hepha away and packed up the house. Then we had everything moved here.”

Wanda nods, “yes, so all your things are here as well. We had them put in your old room, since we didn’t want to disturb you.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and laughs, and you join her.

“A week is hardly long enough to make up for centuries lost, but I was starting to get a little stir crazy being locked away for so long,” you chuckle. “You’d think with being eternal and all, that a measly week would seem like mere seconds to me. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I guess all that time being locked away made me truly cherish the passing of it, in a completely new way.”

“That’s understandable,” Pietro agrees. “We all spent a very long time waiting for you to be freed. I guess we will all see time differently now.”

“And Hepha?” You question hesitantly, “he is gone for good now?”

“Yes,” Wanda nods, “he is locked away where no man or God will ever find him. I made sure of that.”

You hug Wanda and Pietro again. “I can’t thank you both enough for all you’ve done, and will continue to do, for me. I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for the two of you.”

“You don’t owe us any praises, Y/N,” Pietro starts, “we’d gladly make the same choices again and again, if it meant helping to free you. We both waited a very long time to be allowed to accomplish that task, and we feel blessed that we were given that distinct role in your life.”

You sniffle, his words impacting you greatly. You will never be able to understand how you got so blessed to be surrounded by such wonderful and beautiful people, but you won’t question it. You will just hang on to them for dear life and pray they are with you always. “Can I ask what happened to Medea?”

Wanda gives you a small smile as she leads the three of you over to a bench, and you notice now that Sam has vanished, must likely giving the three of you time and space to talk. Once you are all seated, Wanda begins to fill you in on their part in all of this.

“Once Hepha got what he needed from her, he killed her to ensure that no one aside from him and Charandas knew your whereabouts.”

You frown, you’d figured something like that had happened to her, but you’d hoped your thoughts were wrong, though now you know they weren’t. “I’m so sorry—“

“It’s not your fault,” Wanda cuts you off, scolding you just a little.

“Our mother was many things,” Pietro starts, grasping one of your hands. “But an oblivious victim was not one of them.”

Wanda nods, “as hard as it is for us to speak about it, she was wise beyond her years. Hepha didn’t even understand the true extent of her powers, he had only seen the surface of what she possessed. And she had known many years before he arrived, that he was coming. She knew her exact path in all of this, and she was well aware of the Fate that would befall her when it was all said and done.”

Pietro sighs deeply, “we begged her not to go through with it at first. To just run away with us and not allow the Fates to decide how her life should end.” He shook his head, “but she refused, and told us over and over again that, ‘this is all part of the prophecy, the Fates have chosen this path for us all and this is exactly as it should be,’ and that going against Fate won’t save us. It will just prolong the inevitable, but that to follow their plan willingly is a choice in and of itself. We could either cower away from our destiny, or embrace it with open arms and accept the true role we played in this life.”

“She was a very insightful woman,” you muse. “I may have only had the pleasure of meeting her once, but she left a beautiful impression on me that will never cease or waver.”

“She was a wonderful mother,” Wanda affirms. “Before she left to help Hepha, she passed most of her powers on to me, so that they wouldn’t be lost to her death. We didn’t realize at the time, but she had also linked us to you. So when she spelled you to forget, we forgot everything as well, and had no idea about any of this. We lived under the notion that we were orphaned and waiting till I could handle my powers before we settled down. But it turns out, I was just spellbound to protect us and we basically sat in limbo for centuries, until it was our time to rescue you.” She smiles at you, grasping your hand tightly in her own, “I believe she made us forget her and our lives before, so that we wouldn’t miss her. At least not till we had you in our lives and had someone else to look out for us and love us. I believe she did it to ease our grief and mourning.”

You nod, squeezing her hand in reassurance, and doing the same to Pietro’s hand that is still clasp in your other. “I believe that wholeheartedly.”

You pull them both into a hug and then the three of you proceed to lighten the mood, spending a few hours catching up and just being in each others presence. It felt like ages since the last time you’d just hung out with your siblings. And yes, you knew they weren’t your actual siblings, but regardless of blood, they would always be family to you. And you’d cherish them as such for centuries to come.

The sound of someone clearing their throat draws your attention away from the siblings and places it upon Sam, now standing a few feet away. “Sorry to interrupt the family reunion, but it’s nearing dinner time and I figured you’d all like to prepare for it.”

You gasp, “is it really that late already?” You glance between Wanda and Pietro, who both seem just as shocked by the fact that you’d spent an entire day in the garden together. My, how the time flies when you’re having fun.

“It is,” Sam chuckles at your bewildered states. “I can walk you all up to your rooms, if you’d like?”

“That’s quite alright, Sam,” Wanda smiles at him. “We’ve hogged up enough if her time. She’s all yours now,” she grins over at you, causing you to giggle. You say your goodbyes to the siblings, promising to spend more time like this with them. Now that life was calming down and levelling out, you could go back to some of your normal ways.

You part ways with them and begin to venture back to your room. The second they are out of sight, you can instantly tell Sam is bursting at the seems, so you simply open the door and allowed the flow of excitement out. Asking him to tell you more about his Mate, and that simple question propels him into a long and glorious monologue entirely about her, Elizabeth, and everything he knew of her thus far. You could barely contain your excitement for him, hanging on his every word.

And the fact he was telling you all about his Mate, wasn’t lost on you. You remember the talk you’d both had about Mates, and how sacred they truly were, and how it was improper and against the rules to even ask about them.

So the fact Sam was openly telling you of her, was more telling than any words could ever be. He trusted you, he saw you as a close enough friend to happily and thoroughly tell you all about his Mate. That alone made you again feel warm all over. Today had just been such an eye opening day for you, you’d had many revelations and taken in a bunch of new information. All the gaps in your story were now filled and you could start moving on from everything that had happened to you and the ones you love. You could finally find true peace, and live out your eternal life happily and surrounded by so many amazing people, with whom you loved so truly and deeply.

It was a lucky thing then that you just so happened to be the Goddess of Love, and had more than enough to go around.

You both reach your new bedroom door, and say your goodbyes, you congratulating Sam on his wonderful Mate. She sounds absolutely perfect for him, and you are so overjoyed for them to have finally found each other. Sam deserves the world, and you’d give it to him if you could. Before Sam leaves, he promises that someone will be up to retrieve you soon for dinner. Then with a final hug, he ventures off to places unknown, as you turn to push open the door that leads into the room you share with your husband.

And the moment the door is fully open you gasp, a hand raising to cover your mouth in astonishment.

Everywhere your eyes land, there are candles.

Hundreds and hundreds of candles, all flickering away in the quiet dim of the room. Flower pedals covers the floors and surfaces of all the furniture. The fireplace is lit and roaring, the crackling of burning wood punctuating the soft silence. There is a silver rolling tray with a few covered dishes, and some drinks. And in the middle of all of it, stands your one true Love.

And clutched in his hands is a bundle of freshly picked flowers, all of your favourites. Your heart melts at the sight before you, and before you can even think better of it, you are surging forward and leaping into his arms. Your arms and legs clasp around his neck and waist, respectively. And his wrap firmly around your waist, catching you with an effortless ease that you’ve grown accustomed to. But that has yet to cease in amazing you.

You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his delicious scent before you murmur against his skin, “I love you with all that I am.”

He tightens his hold on you, “and I love you with all that I possess.”

And in this moment, you know without a shadow of a doubt, that is his exactly where you’re meant to be. And that you will love this man for eternity, because he is your everything. Just as you are his.

He may be the God of War, and you may be the Goddess of Love, but two hearts were never more perfectly matched. Were never more destined for one another. You may not have souls, but you’d be damned if you didn’t acknowledge that you were both, in fact, true soulmates.

And now all that was left to do, was live out your eternity with your Love, your Mate, your husband.

Your Ari.

**The End**

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

@caps-lockdown @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @saturngirlz @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @moonlightimagination

172 notes · View notes

spookyold-saintjm · 4 years

Note

Can I please get a super fluffy Dark x Reader from the Christmas prompts with numbers #6, #9, & #16? With something along the lines of Dark isn't a scrooge at Christmas, but he definitely isn't a fan either. Maybe a 1st Christmas together as friends? IDK. But they both really like each other, but are too scared to tell each other. Y/N LOVES snow, Dark loves seeing Y/N happy. Sorry if that's a lot. I'm having some major Darks feels right now.

6: It’s snowing!

9: I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.

16: I can’t believe you’re making snow angels at a time like this!

From this prompt list.

@geekdorknerdfangirlblogger this is for you! I altered the last prompt a little. I’m sorry didn’t finish it before Christmas but consider it some fluffy winter-time goodness. Hope you like it! x

Darkiplier x reader

It wasn’t every day that Dark was willing to do something outside of his normal routine of work and plan and brood. It was an endless cycle, and he never rested, tirelessly working toward his end goal, tirelessly distracting his mind and body from the truth that he faced every minute of every day.

You’d asked him to join you for a walk on this particular winter afternoon, a few days before Christmas, and he at first had been hesitant.

“Come on, it’s snowing!” you offered, seated across from him at his desk. “And you need some fresh air. Staying cooped up in here all day isn’t going to help you get anything done.”

You were right, he knew that. You usually were. Dark wasn’t intentionally self-destructive, but he would so often focus on everything else that simple matters of caring for himself would often be set aside. Not that there was much that could be done about the state of the broken shell he was contained inside. For now. Forever. He wasn’t sure any more.

He placed the papers he had been reading down onto his desk, splaying his fingers flat over the top page as he considered.

“I suppose.” He looked up at you, your smile at his answer giving him that feeling again. The one that made his fingertips prickle and sent a dull, tingling sensation down his spine. He was able to shove it out of his mind long enough to answer you. “I’ll meet you downstairs shortly.”

He was true to his word, finding you waiting by the door, now bundled in a coat, scarf and beanie. He had only slipped on his jacket, nothing more. The cold didn’t affect him like it used to. Thankfully, you didn’t ask any questions, and opened the door for the both of you to step outside.

Dark allowed you to lead the way, so long as the two of you weren’t gone for long. He did have work to get back to, after all. After a long minute of silence as you made your way, you began to wonder why you thought this was a good idea. And more so, why had Dark agreed to it?

You felt foolish, absolutely foolish for finding any way to be around him. Any excuse to spend a few extra minutes in his office, any reason to bring him something he would need or, like today, do something to get him out of his usual routine. When you had come along, Dark had been surprisingly quick to accept your presence, much to everyone’s surprise. You didn’t mind. There was something about him, from the moment you’d met, that simply drew you in. He was cold, he could be harsh and demanding, and there was that strange aura that always seemed to follow him, that sense of dread…

Yet, you knew there was more to him than this. Maybe it was because the parts of him that were so bold were the ones that you did your best to conceal. Your own past, your own hurt, your own story with the parts that you would never dare to admit. Somehow it created a balance between the two of you, an unspoken understanding that the two of you could stick together.

That was why, Dark supposed, he always indulged your hesitant requests to borrow books from his study, then lounge around reading them, even long after he had gone for the day. It was why he would find tiny things he needed help accomplishing throughout the day, made requests for random things brought to his office that he truly had no use for at the time, why he had agreed to join you on this particularly chilly winter day.

It wasn’t that you were unaccustomed to the silence, maybe it was just all of the emotions that arose in you around this time every year, but you felt like you were going to implode if one of you didn’t speak.

“Christmas is in a few days…what’s your favorite thing to do?” You finally asked. “Or…for the holidays in general? If that’s, like, your thing.”

Dark looked at you from the corner of his eye, his face remaining neutral. “I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.” He answered simply. To most anyone else, an answer of more than a few words by Dark to that kind of question would have been near unbelievable. But not to you.

You frowned. While your insides were begging to burst into a chorus of But Christmas is the best time of year!!! The lights! The food! The presents! The SNOW!, you resisted the urge, knowing that it definitely wouldn’t convince him.

“That’s okay,” you replied with a shrug. “I understand. Do you guys celebrate, though?”

Dark nearly froze at your sudden acceptance of his reply, but instead hummed in thought before answering. “The others usually have some sort of event the night before…” he rubbed at his temples with exhaustion at the thought. “But those usually end in disaster.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “That sounds about right,” you replied lightly, and briefly explained your own holiday traditions of the past. It would be different this year, now that you were here, but you were determined to make it great.

Dark listened in silence, slight nods and the faintest of smiles his only reply. You didn’t mind; you knew he wasn’t much of a talker. Besides, you were so thrilled at embracing the first snowy day of the winter that you couldn’t help yourself. The first snow was always the best one, and you didn’t want to take a moment of it for granted.

Dark, on the other hand, was simply enjoying being near you. It nagged at his mind, you did, more often than he cared to confess. Seeing your eyes light up at the simple existence of the world around him made him feel a strange sensation in his chest that he didn’t quite recognize.

Despite his seemingly always cool and collected demeanor, he kept stealing sideways glances at you. Your cheeks warmed the first time you noticed, and you kept accidentally meeting his gaze after that. Neither of you were brave enough to say a word about it.

The rest of you walk was spent mostly in peaceful silence. When you reached the manor again and saw the fresh, untouched snow in the front yard, you suddenly grinned and took off into a run.

Dark flinched, an arm reaching out towards you. “y/n! What are you—”

You had flung yourself into a pile of snow and were lying on your back. You let out a short laugh and started waving your arms and legs back and forth in the freezing snow, the cold seeping through your layers of clothing, but you didn’t mind.

Dark stared at you, his head slightly tilted, as he approached you. He stopped a couple feet away from you and looked down at you moving in the snow.

“What…are you doing.” He attempted to maintain a neutral tone, but didn’t realize his mouth was still ever-so-slightly agape in surprise.

You stopped moving and looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “…snow angel?”

His expression didn’t change, and you launched yourself up into a sitting position.

“I can’t believe you don’t know what a snow angel is!” you cried, your eyes nearly popping out of your head.

Dark couldn’t help but chuckle at your response. “I can’t believe you’re making a…snow angel.”

You groaned in mock annoyance as you stood. You took a couple steps back to look at your work, pulling Dark by the arm along with you.

“See?” You gestured to the shape you’d formed in the snow. “Looks like an angel. Snow. Angel.”

Dark stared down in silence, but was thinking far too much instead of your hand still wrapped around his arm, near his wrist. You’d never touched before, and although his suit jacket was between your skin and his, he just knew that your hands were soft, comforting despite the fact that they were freezing cold.

“If you say so,” he sighed, forcing the thought from his mind. You glared at him, which he only responded to with a joking half-grin. But something behind his eyes seemed more…serious? Something else.

It was then you also realized you were touching. Still touching, your fingers subconsciously curled into his suit jacket. You quickly pulled away, using the same hand to adjust your beanie on top of your head as if it were natural. As if you hadn’t felt that butterfly feeling, too.

“Okay, well, ah, now that that’s done…” you started, suddenly all to aware of the small distance between the both of you.

Your heart nearly came through your chest when Dark’s hand reached back out for you. He looked at you, the small grin still stuck on his face, but you could barely, just barely feel the tremble as his fingers slowly intertwined with yours.

“I believe you promised hot chocolate once we returned,” he said, his voice soft. “Shall we?” He shrugged and nodded toward the upper floor of the manor, where his office was located. “I have to get back to work soon, you know.”

The smile that you felt spread across your face was one that you hadn’t felt in quite some time as you answered him. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Your hands remained together as you returned into the manor, and you both silently hoped it would be a long, long time before the other would decide to let go.

#darkiplier x reader #requests #holiday writing prompts #darkiplier imagine #darkiplier x female reader #darkiplier x male reader #darkiplier x y/n #darkiplier fluff #geekdorknerdfangirlblogger #spookyold-answers

137 notes · View notes

bonkaisecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Blood in the Water

Happy Holidays @leianaberrie from @edomeilair! Notes: I was instantly intimidated writing for you as you’re such an amazing author for this pairing, and this is oddly my first time writing Bonkai. I hope you like this story. Set in a semi-AU ‘verse in which things play out pretty much the same in Mystic Falls except for season 6. The history of the Gemini Coven has also been altered, their merging ritual is a thing of the past and they have figured out a different way to arrange succession, so Kai was never in a prison world and may have slight personality disorder markers but did not become a sociopath in the way he did on the show. I’ve also aged him down, so he’s around 33 and Bonnie’s about 28-30. It’s all clear in the story, hopefully. I thought this was going to be 3k smut and then this happened. Might continue it one day, I’ve no idea. Mistakes are my own, and not beta’d. Anyway, enough rambling. Please have a wonderful 2020 and may all your wishes come through in the New Year! Summary: In which Bonnie’s going through a dry spell, and Kai buys her a drink. Or, Bonnie’s gotten pretty good at running but she hasn’t had someone like Kai trying to pursue her. Word count: 9k | Rating: NC17 (smut)

“Heard the new guy’s some kind of hotshot high warlock—from the Germanic Coven or something like that?”

Bonnie grunted in response to Emma as she hefted one of the heavier grimoires from her latest treasure trawl, peering at the first page which was written in Ge’ez script, a mix of Amharic and maybe some Arabic as well. She’d found that one during her sabbatical. A few months off teaching at the Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted to visit a little town in the Ogaden region, right along the border between Kenya, Ethiopia and Somalia. She’d traced at least one thin branch of her family’s tree there, and the part of her that still yearned for roots and connection to a bloodline that was all but lost had inspired her to take the trip. There weren’t any people called Bennett there, of course. There wouldn’t have been a thousand years ago before Amaya, one of the few ancestors she did know, was born. But there had been a fleeting, intangible sense of belonging.

Even then, it still wasn’t home.

So, she’d come back, just as she always did, to the only place that she could claim much as part of her didn’t want to. Mystic Falls. The town she’d grown up in, lived in and died in (three times).

She despised this town with every fibre of her being, but she could never let it go for long. And she’d damn well tried, too.

After the mess with Silas and then the Travellers, and then the Heretics and the sirens, and every other supernatural disaster that plagued this hellhole, she’d taken Enzo’s final request to heart. She’d packed up her bags and left Mystic Falls to live her own damn life.

More like ran so fast not even a vampire could catch her.

Lucy let her stay with her down in Reno for close to a year. Her cousin had landed up there after running from Katherine all those years ago (and she was very relieved to hear that the rumours of the vampire’s demise were true, and she was free of whatever bonded obligations she’d once held), and settled in to run a swanky little cocktail bar, The Witches’ Brew, with a couple of friends.

Being with her cousin had been a true gift after all the years of feeling alone, like she was constantly under siege and at war. And that’s what it had been in Mystic Falls—it was only after she left that she started to realise it and understand. She’d been fighting for her life, or, more honestly everyone else’s lives for so long that a part of her couldn’t recall what it meant to just be. To live. To exist in a way that didn’t mean losing everything and everyone she loved over and over again. And always losing herself.

Maybe Enzo should’ve given her tips with that request. But she’d tried. She’d had to learn how. She was still learning.

That journey of learning had taken her to California to finish up her undergrad in San Francisco, then across the Atlantic to pursue a masters’ and a doctorate in Occult History & Linguistics. Her area of study had come with adventures and travel, studying mystical objects from occultic traditions and covens all the way from Scotland to South Africa, China to Brazil. She’d expanded her magical practise all the while—never joining a coven or anything but meeting practitioners who made even her, who’d faced down Originals, ancestral spirits and sirens as old as time, and mostly survived, tremble in awe.

Eventually, though, she’d found her way back to Virginia. A call from Caroline begging her to consider taking up a teaching position at the school she’d inexplicably founded with Alaric of all people.

Apparently, Damon had bequeathed his half of the Salvatore estate to him on his death—which came with a considerable and surprising amount of money. Nobody thought Damon was the saving money type. Bonnie smiled wryly at the thought. He’d always been full of surprises.

But he and Stefan had died together under the Armory, along with Katherine, which was poetic or pathetic depending on how one looked at it. Stefan had left his share to Caroline and so she and their former history teacher had partnered in a special school for supernatural kids. As far as Bonnie knew, there wasn’t anything like it—most supernatural species tended to stick to themselves for self-preservation or reasons of ancient enmities no one could remember the cause of. To start a school in which different species could not only co-exist but thrive was unheard of. To do it in Mystic Falls of all places was potentially stupid.

But they’d done it anyway.

Bonnie’d resisted the plea for a few years, reluctant to come back to a place that held so much… that held too much. Because when she had been in Mystic Falls before, it had felt like the worst kind of prison. Like being right on the ass-crack of hell. And the thing was, she hadn’t liked the Bonnie she’d become in this place. And the thought of returning made her afraid that she’d devolve into that Bonnie again. Sacrificing, dying, losing. Lather, rinse, repeat.

The tipping point came unexpectedly in the form of one adorable, chubby-cheeked toddler who happened to be her god-daughter courtesy of Matt. He’d settled down, a wife and three kids, the whole suburban dream along with a shiny star badge as the town sheriff. When he’d sent a message to let her know his second daughter, Lily Catherine Donovan, had come into the world and that he’d named her godmother, Bonnie hadn’t been able to deny the invitation to the christening.

Five years later, she still hadn’t skipped town except for her short trips around the world. On most days, she didn’t even regret that choice.

“What’s a High Warlock gonna be doing teaching at a high school? Last I checked that’s a full-time job.”

“No idea.” Emma shrugged as she munched on a packet of Lays and sipped on sweet ginger tea (a bizarre combination) while she watched Bonnie unpack her findings onto the oak desk in her little office. “Apparently the way his coven’s run, he and his sister co-rule or something weird like that. I’ve heard rumours about patricide, a sadistic secretive ritual involving bloody duels and body possession—which is why he’s coming in to lead on Defence against the Dark Arts.”

“After Vardemus, I would think Alaric and Caroline would pick someone ‘safe’, right? An instructor who won’t incite the students to use dark magick and set up a mini-Hunger Games in the middle of Mystic Falls.”

Emma snorted in amusement. “Well, I bloody well hope so.” She sipped on her tea and continued, “This guy’s supposedly legit even if he may or may not have slaughtered his family to become the head of his coven or whatever the real story is. They’re apparently ancient and super-secretive, I’m shocked you haven’t heard of them either.”

“Hm,” Bonnie hummed. There were a handful of covens like that, ones she’d learned about in her studies. The kind that had gone millennia in secret and only allowed outsiders to learn the truth of their practises, and even their true name, on rare occasions. Having never been a part of a coven, she couldn’t quite relate to the fuss.

She bent down to unlock one of her storage cabinets so she could start packing things. The rich sandalwood shone in the afternoon light, and she could smell the mix of that and the musk of old books. She suddenly felt very appreciative to be back here.

Her office was situated in one of the newer extensions to the school’s grounds, the space was great. High dark-oak walls and arched windows that let the day’s light in and opened onto a small terrace, which led to her own private teacher’s apartment.

She’d created something of a little green haven that spilled out onto the pathway. Pot plants and flowers growing in profusion (with a little magical boost), bright pink and purple petunias mixed in with warm yellow daisies and sunflowers, cool white orchids under the shade of a tall birch, a little pepper tree with shiny red peppers hanging in the air like commas and a flourishing herb plot for her cooking and spell-work, a jasmine bush that scented the night air with sweetness. And then other plants that had more… practical uses. Sage bushes, fragrant lithops that she’d received as a gift from witch-doctor based in a small town in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, yarrow to help staunch blood-flow and ease aches and pains, ginger root, belladonna and vervain, and so much more.

Tending to her plants was perhaps one thing that she truly missed when she was away on a trip. It reminded her of a simpler time when Grams was still alive, and she was newly-discovering the world of magick for herself, feeling the gravitational pull of the Earth and the power it held, infinite energy waiting for her to tug on it gently like tendrils and shape it to her purpose. Back when magick was about discovering a part of herself that had always been there, unknown and undetected. When it could make her smile from the simple joy of using it.

Times like that, she felt like she really did love Mystic Falls.

“So,” she said, picking up on what Emma had mentioned. “A murder-coven leader is coming to Mystic Falls, check. Sounds creepy and lowkey evil.”

“Yeah, well, with a first name like ‘Malachai’, I definitely agree.”

“Malachai?” That did sound kind of menacing. “You’ve met him?”

“Nope, Alaric, Caroline, Dorian and Cary and a few trustees did the interview, I just offered a thumbs up.”

“Hm,” Bonnie hummed noncommittally, placing the sceptre on the table along with a small pile of dusty books. She’d check them for any curses and hexes, and other latent magick and catalogue them in the archives over the next few days. “I think we’re about done.”

She’d come back to the school a few days before the end of Summer vacation to find out that Alaric had hired another witch on staff, which would make three of them. Emma’s work focused far more on guidance counselling and wellbeing of the student body in her role as Head of the Honour Council while Bonnie was the Head of Occult History & Arcane Studies. She also taught a senior seminar on Healing Magick for witches and Botany for all students—you never knew when you’d need to identify a random root or tree in the woods, one that could save your life.

In the light of the challenges they’d had with the Malivore the last few months, and the dark magick abuse disaster with Rupert Vardemus, Alaric and the Honour Council had deemed it urgent that the students get a better grasp on how to not only defend themselves against dark forces but how to harness offensive strategies, particularly with the student witches.

Bonnie probably had more experience than any witch this side of the country with fighting—or rather surviving the kinds of monsters the kids were facing every other week. But she’d declined when Alaric offered her the role.

She didn’t want any part of teaching young children, innocents, to go to war. Not in that way at least.

The New Guy could deal with it.

“So,” Emma said, stretching her arms over her head with a jaw-cracking yawn. “You and I, totally need to have a date at our favourite dive bar sometime soon, yeah? Give you a proper welcome back and catch up on all the good gossip.”

Bonnie smirked at how Emma’s British accent curled around the words, mischievous and with the hint of a chuckle. “Ooh, any updates with Dorian?”

“Oh, so many updates,” Emma replied with an expression that teetered somewhere between a grimace and a salacious grin. “But I’ll save that for your welcome drink because we’re going to bloody well need it.”

Dorian and Emma had been dancing around each other for what felt like years. But then there’d been the weird drama with hallucinogens and a kiss with Alaric, and they’d stalled.

“That sounds ominous. I, on the other hand, have no fun updates—I feel like I haven’t had sex since before Rihanna put out an album. And that was last decade.” Bonnie wasn’t a sex fiend by any means, but she was in a rut. A dry spell that was going onto a year now.

Her last serious long-term relationship had been Enzo, which was almost ten years ago. That sex had been great but always tinged with the tragedy of their circumstances. After he died, a string of random hook-ups throughout her time in Reno, then school and work. Two years ago, she’d been in a casual-something relationship with a witch two towns over, but that had ended when Nandi wanted to make things more official and suggested moving in together. Bonnie had high-tailed her way from that relationship so fast, she left tire-marks. A few months after, she found herself in Scotland on an excavation trip with one of her old doctoral programme friends, Domhnall, a warlock based outside of Glasgow. They’d tumbled into bed after some awkward flirting over the hallowed grave-site of one of his ancestors, which had been good fun for the three months she was there.

But after that, nada. No one. Zilch, zippo, zero on the sexual activities front.

Sure, a good conjuring spell and one of her vibrators did an okay job but there was nothing like having a warm, solid body on top of you or underneath. Nothing like tasting the salty-sweet of someone’s skin on your tongue, the sensation of tumbling over a cliff and having someone to catch you in that high. She clenched her thighs together as she tried to remember the last time someone even ate her out. That might as well have been in the last century it felt so long ago.

Bottomline was: she missed sex. Relationships, not so much. But the side-benefits? Hell, yeah.

Clearly, picking up on some of her internal suffering, Emma snickered and said, “You poor thing…. Well, you never know, maybe evil murder-coven leader Malachai will be hot, and you can hook up with him.”

Hell, no. Bonnie didn’t mix work with pleasure, especially while teaching at a school full of kids. She didn’t want any part of that kind of mess.

“Shut up, I know you’re laughing at me. You owe me an extra drink just for that.”

And she’d get one. Emma’s idea of a ‘proper welcome’ would involve the two of them, a bottle of tequila, bitching about their crappy exes and questionable dancing on whatever table-tops that could carry them.

“It’s definitely a date—maybe we can do next Friday? Tonight, I’m heading into town to see my god-daughter and catch a drink with Matty if I can tear him away from sheriffing, fathering and husbanding. Then I’ll turn in early and try get over this jetlag before the craziness of school starting up next week.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Kai hadn’t been in Mystic Falls more than ten minutes before he felt like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet. Literally. Hell, he’d take one of his family’s awful prison worlds or a random hell dimension.

How had he gotten himself into this fix? He was the High Warlock of the Gemini Coven, one of them at least. Yet somehow, he still managed to lose a round of poker to his sister and with his defeat, came an absolute stinker of a punishment. He was the one who would have to accept the request to come to Saltzman’s backwater school for the gifted (seriously, did the guy think he was Professor X teaching a bunch of mutants or something) to fill in a teaching position for a couple months.

Normally, this sort of thing would be of no interest to the Gemini. But a mundane, running a school for supernaturals—an integrated school with witches, vampires, werewolves, apparently there was even a tri-brid and a phoenix, and the gods knew what else—in a town that was the closest thing to a real-life Buffy-esque Sunnydale hellmouth was cause for more than just interest. It was a blaring clarion call that required some sort of intervention. At the very least, a review of the operation.

As one of the oldest and most secretive covens in existence, the Gemini had always played a more… active role in maintaining Nature’s balance. All behind the scenes and under the table, of course. In the last century or so, that had diminished somewhat as other covens rose to the fore and the Gemini resolved all their messy internal power politics. But with the rise in supernatural fuck-ups over the last decade—a magically-created virus break-out in Atlanta, a tribe of vengeful succubi that had wreaked havoc all across California and down into New Mexico, the summoning of some really evil demons by a bunch of dumb mundanes with satanic aspirations, the Seelie up in Michigan attempting to cross over into this realm to establish a petty kingdom with humans as their slaves, necromancers in San Francisco, and so much more—it had become apparent that the coven needed to step up.

From the little he’d read of the file his sister prepped for him, shit was just as bad, if not worse here in Mystic Falls.

So, he and Jo had played poker to see who’d get sent to play teacher to a bunch of sniveling adolescents. And, he’d lost.

Disgusting. Josette would never let him live it down.

“Sir, can I get you something to drink?” a chirpy waitress offered, sliding the menu onto his table.

Kai gave her a wide smile, which had the woman blushing faintly and fingering the wavy locks of her bottle blonde hair, the way women tended to do in the face of his patented Parker charm. “You know, I’d like a beer and a burger. Make that two burgers. Are the fries any good? I hate a soggy French fry.”

“Everyone says we’ve got the best ones in town,” the waitress offered. The hair twirling was getting a little out of control. It was endearing if ineffective.

“I’m gonna choose to believe you. Hope you don’t disappoint me.”

One could only hope that even a spot as kitschy as this so-called Mystic Grill wouldn’t mess fries up.

“That’ll be coming right up, sir,” she said, simpering. “I’m Diedre, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Diedre,” Kai said, but didn’t offer his own name. Best not to encourage anything. He wasn’t here to hook up or get his dick wet with the first available woman. He would do his job, and in a few months once his assessment of the school and its teachings was done, he would get the hell out of Dodge.

Diedre didn’t seem insulted by his reticence. Instead, she bit her lower lip and sent him a flirty wave over her shoulder as she went to ring in his order, an extra sashay to her shapely hips in the tacky green staff uniform.

All of it left him cold. It wasn’t that Kai didn’t have a functioning libido. He’d had lovers, and some of them had even been girlfriends. But none of them stuck. And, to be honest, he didn’t want them to. Why tie himself down to one woman like that? He had a coven to run and a world to safeguard, he didn’t have time for relationships and all the drama that came with them.

He’d done some exploring earlier in the day to get acclimated, dropping his bags off at the town’s best-rated guesthouse. He would stay there for a couple of days before checking in directly at the Salvatore School where Saltzman had staff apartments on the premises.

From his investigative walk around town, he already spotted at least twelve psychic ruptures, scars left behind on the land or in buildings that told a story of powerful, and incredibly dark magick here. Like, the kind of magick that tore entire dimensions apart. There had supposedly been some kind of ‘council’ that worked to combat the supernatural forces that plagued the town but that was now defunct. Unsurprising. A bunch of humans banding together to fight vampires and wolves and other things that went bump in the night was a recipe for disaster. Kai was almost baffled at how this place managed to stay standing this long.

This wasn’t even the first time he’d visited Mystic Falls. A long time ago when he was about eight, he’d come here with his mom to visit an old coven ally by the name of Sheila Bennett. He’d planned to renew the acquaintance, which wouldn’t be too weird after twenty-five years. Or at least say ‘hi’ to her but apparently, she’d passed on some years ago.

He couldn’t remember much about Sheila Bennett except that she’d had a warm smile, and her hands had held a warm current of magic that felt like the colour orange. And she hadn’t treated him like a weird baby demon just because he had siphoning abilities. Even then, at age eight, his family and the witches in the coven had acted like he was evil. Anathema. Abomination.

The only thing that probably saved him from being drowned in a tub like some runty feral cat was that he’d also been born with some innate magick of his own. It wasn’t as strong as Josette’s at the time, nor when they were growing up—their merging ritual as high warlocks had helped with that, strengthening both of their magical signatures—but he’d had some at least. It meant people only called him ‘freak’ in quiet whispers behind his back rather than right to his face.

On the plus side, a few decades ago, he wouldn’t even have been allowed to become high warlock. Before the 1920s, the Gemini leadership succession process had been nothing short of medieval—a brutal merging of twins when they came of age that killed one and left the other with the soul of their sibling rattling in their heads. It had driven more than a few high warlocks crazy.

Even worse, back then the life of the head of the coven was linked to every single member. So, if they went kaput, so would thousands of other people. Truly insane. Add a siphoner to the mix, and the coven would’ve gone extinct in no time.

Thankfully, the Gemini decided to join the rest of the world in the twentieth century and abolish the practice. His great aunt Esme and her brother, Edward, had established a co-leadership tenure where the twin heirs would only merge magick with each other, garnering more potency from the rest of the coven. Each leader would also receive a range of sigils, tattooed with ink made from a mix of white oak, unicorn blood and all sorts of yummy things, and special talismans to augment their strength and skills and enable them to lead with power and might. In other words, it enabled them to lay down the law with a hard fist whenever the coven-folk got too unruly.

So really, the way he’d grown up was lucky. In the olden days, he’d have been killed or tossed in a prison world without a second thought.

Sighing, Kai slurped on his ice water, and played with the grey watermark his glass had made on the table. It was hard to think of himself as lucky but if he thought any other way, he’d be a lot sadder. Probably.

Growing up, he had been separated from the rest, never allowed to touch or simply hug most of his siblings for fear that he’d steal their magick. His father had never really understood that Kai had figured out how to control his siphoning skills by the time he reached ten years of age. If it wasn’t for Jo, the one person he was truly close to, he might’ve broken completely. Gone certifiably insane by age twenty-two. Likely would’ve tried to off the lesser twins, Liz and Luke, who were a full twelve years younger than him and total brats.

“Here you go, sir,” Diedre said, her bright voice cutting through Kai’s dark memories. A welcome interruption. He thanked her and tucked in immediately.

The burger was okay, the beer passable, the chips pretty damn decent. But it was the dessert, a chocolate mousse and a strawberry jelly pot (he’d asked for the latter specifically, he’d always loved a good pot of jam) that really hit the spot. He was in the middle of dipping his finger into the jelly pot to clean out the last few bits of sweet, gooey goodness when the woman walked in.

Now Kai was no poet. Nor was he the kind of person who considered himself a romantic. It just wasn’t his thing. So, when she walked in, his first thought was that she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. All shoulder length curls, tawny skin and her wide lips open mid-laugh as she scanned the restaurant for a place to sit with her date. His second thought, as his eyes traced the way her jeans clung to her hips, the heeled boots and the plump curve of her breasts under the simple scoop-neck sweater that bared one of her dusky-gold shoulders was that he wanted her.

From zero to one hundred, just like that.

He studied her and her companion closely. He didn’t make a habit of horning in on taken women—too much drama. But he might be inspired to make an exception for her. They were giggling at some picture they were looking at as they settled in at the bar, and the guy, a blond beefcake who moved like a cop slapped her shoulder in a way that was decidedly platonic.

At least Kai hoped so.

They didn’t do any of the usual couple things like kiss or place hands on thighs for a quick grope, so he was probably right. Signalling Diedre, Kai made the snap decision to buy the beauty a drink.

Maybe Mystic Falls wouldn’t be such a miserable shithole after all.

“Deacon, could we get some drinks to go with our dessert?”

“Sure, sweet thing—the usual?”

Bonnie smiled at the wizened bartender with a nod. Deacon had been serving drinks at the Grill for as long as she could remember. She could recall seeing him with his lank shoulder-length steel grey hair, balding at the front, and his arms covered in fading wrinkled tattoos, a pair of spectacles perched on his nose all the way from her high school days. When Matt had come on staff as a waiter before he went off to police training, the old man had been tending the bar then, too.

As Deacon slid her tumbler of whiskey towards her, he waved off the card she was reaching for in her purse. “Your drink’s courtesy of the man by the jukebox over there.”

Surprised, Bonnie could only mumble a thanks as she shoved her credit card into her wallet.

Matt swivelled to see who he was referring to before turning back to hunch over the one nightcap beer he would allow himself before heading home to his family. “Looks like someone’s got an admirer,” he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

Bonnie glanced over at her new drink sponsor, and her breath caught in her throat. Even from this distance, she could tell he was gorgeous. The kind of man Caroline would describe as a tall drink of please rearrange my insides with your dick. And Caro was a vampire, it would take a lot to rearrange her innards. So, if she was begging for that kind of thing, you knew it was serious.

He wore a simple t-shirt, the arms of which bunched around almost absurdly muscular arms that bore a few inky-black tattoos. A heavy smattering of stubble covered his lower jaw and he was in the middle of finishing off what looked like… a pot of strawberry jelly? Which was, honestly, kind of odd but if the way he was licking his red-stained forefinger while he stared at her was anything to go by—it was something she could maybe get behind….

She gulped, her mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh god, please don’t do this right in front of me, Bon. I just ate dinner, and I’d like to keep it in my belly.”

Matt’s disgruntled voice pulled her away from the contemplation of the generous stranger. “What? I did nothing!”

“I’ve known you since we were kids, I think I can tell when you’re… hitting on some guy,” he said with a disgusted grimace. “It’s like watching my little sister trying to get some.”

“Go away, I was just observing my… benefactor.”

“I don’t know, the two of you kind of looked like you were both trying to take each other’s clothes off with your minds. Which, you could probably do, since you’re a witch. Again, a visual that I don’t need. Ever.”

Rolling her eyes at one of best friend’s dramatics, Bonnie turned away from eye-fucking the man across the room. “Why do I feel like you’ve gotten so much more dramatic as a father? You were never this melodramatic in high school, Matt.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, when you have three kids under the age of ten and another on the way, it’s almost impossible to not be dramatic.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

An hour later, in the wake of Matt’s departure, Bonnie decided to linger. She had nowhere to rush to, after all. And she liked the relative peace of enjoying her Bourbon alone. The tingling sensation of a heavy gaze from somewhere behind her had absolutely nothing to do with it. She straightened her back, stretching out the kinks, and crossed her legs, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Just as she signalled the bartender for another refill, a tall body slid onto the stool beside her. Bonnie kept her gaze trained ahead but felt her lips curl in a half-smile. Still got it, apparently.

“I’ll still cover whatever the lady’s having. And another beer for me, thanks.” His voice was deep with a hint of gravel that slithered up her spine with just those few words.

“Well, thank you—,” she turned to face him with an expectant lift of her brow.

“Kai,” he said with a charming smirk. This close, Bonnie could see his eyes shimmer almost indigo blue and the strong cut of his jaw beneath the thick stubble. It’s like he was hand-crafted to appeal to so many of her personal tastes. “Does the lady have a name?”

“Bonnie,” she responded, reaching out to shake his hand in greeting. She noted absently that it was a good hand, firm with a few calluses, long fingers that made her have a few fleeting sinful thoughts. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said, tilting his head at her, his fingers tightening around hers as they held on, a shade too long.

Mid-shake, Bonnie froze as a psychic flash—just a glimpse—flickered in her mind. Two bodies intertwined against an oak-panelled wall, lights winking, naked and damp with sweat, her face thrown back mid-scream while the man in front of her thrust hard, his arms holding her up with ease and evidently doing the thing Caroline would definitely approve of.

Gasping, she blinked. She didn’t get premonitions often, and when they did come, they were mere flashes, often warnings of something shady on the horizon. But that one? If her magick was warning her about anything, then she’d like to thank it. Very much.

She shook her head, clearing her throat and tried to cover the awkward pause in conversation while Kai watched her with an intensity that made her feel oddly exposed. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here, Kai.”

He shook his head. “Recent transplant from Oregon, just for the next few months. Been on the grind with my work—it’s a family business. And figured I’d come and try something different from the other side of the country for a while.”

“You willingly opted to come to Mystic Falls to try ‘something different’?” Bonnie asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice. Despite being a magnet for every random supernatural with delusions of grandeur, Mystic Falls was just as bland and boring a small town as it had been in her youth. Steeped in dubious traditions, to boot. Not the kind of place for a hot mundane to find anything ‘new’, really.

He chuckled at that. “What can I say? It’s one of those unavoidable family obligations. Besides, these small towns can be surprising with the hidden treasures they have to offer. After all, before I came here, I had no idea I’d find someone as beautiful as you in this dinky little town. This was definitely a surprise.” He sent her a salute over the rim of his beer bottle, his lips slick and pink with the alcohol. He had nice lips, firm and just the right amount of pout. She’d always been a sucker for a man with a good mouth.

“Wonder what other delights Mystic Falls has for me to… try out.”

His gaze slid down to her feet and back up in a heated elevator sweep that made Bonnie shiver. Just a bit.

The line wasn’t great. It was plain terrible. But it made her smile anyway because she appreciated frank flirtation, and the even franker invitation in those midnight blue depths.

Taking a sip of her whiskey, Bonnie met his gaze from under her lashes, nibbling on her lower lip. She noted the way his eyes followed that movement, his pupils dilating, black crowding out the blue.

“Maybe I’ll have to help you find out.”

She was like lightning, struck him stupid-dumb with just one kiss. The honeyed tang from the whiskey she’d drank and a hint of dark chocolate, a sweetness that was addictive already. Had been from the second he’d licked into her mouth as their Uber drove off a few minutes before, kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Kai couldn’t get enough as he pushed her back into the nondescript-white door of his hotel room, one of her slender legs wrapped around the back of his, her boot-heel digging into his calf while he notched his hardening length between her thighs.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he kissed his way along her sharp jaw. His dick wanted in to the tell-tale heat he could feel even through her jeans. Wanted to bury itself so deep, he wouldn’t be able to find his way out for at least a decade. He grinded his groin against hers in a rhythm that made them both groan. He was an impatient man on the best of days. If he could spell their clothes away without rousing some questions, and fuck into her now, he totally would.

But that wouldn’t be enough with Bonnie. He’d just met her, and he wanted more than a quick fuck. No, he wanted to savour her. Take the time to do a little prospecting on this landscape of treasure standing in front of him. He wanted her screaming his name, and begging for it, for him. Only then would he fuck her.

For now, they needed to lose the clothes. Stat.

Bonnie tilted her head to the side to grant him access, whimpering when he clamped his teeth on her, rough just the way she loved. It would leave a mark. It had been far too long since anyone had marked her, and her pussy clenched in anticipation for the other bruises this man would give her by morning.

She skated her hands down his back, the bunched muscles there deserved to be explored without the leather jacket and t-shirt as barriers. She did just that, sneaking under his clothes to get at the warm, smooth skin underneath, scraping her fingernails along his spine.

He liked that, she could tell, a rumbling sound emanating from deep in his chest that she felt right down to the tips of her toes.

Every nerve-ending set ablaze as Kai did his best to nose his way through her sweater. Shoving him backwards, she reached down to shuck the thing off—tugging his head back so he could carry on. She was grateful she’d foregone a bra tonight because faster than she could blink, Kai’s tongue was swirling around her puckering nipples, suckling.

Arching into his hungry mouth, Bonnie moaned and then cried out as he let go. Before she could complain, he was moving lower, his lips fluttering along her belly, tongue dipping into her navel, an act that was vaguely ticklish and prompted a breathy snicker.

Within a minute, he was nudging her jeans down to her ankles, helping her kick off her boots and leaving her leaning against the door in nothing but a silky ivory thong. She parted her thighs instinctively, already dripping for him. She watched with hooded eyes as he threw his jacket aside and took off his shirt. His shoulders were broad and the tattoos she’d glimpsed earlier marked the left one with an ink that seemed to almost glow in the dark. Hot.

Kai paused then to look at her, and the glint in his eye had her pussy clenching. He looked the way he had earlier when she’d seen him sucking his fingers clean of that strawberry jelly. He’d been thorough then.

As he lifted her left leg to rest it on his shoulder, baring her to his gaze, and peeled her thong to the side so he could then lean up to nuzzle her, she had no doubts he’d be just as thorough now.

Bonnie hissed at the first touch of his mouth on her clit, a petal-soft kiss on the stiffening nub. Kai flattened his tongue against it and then swiped further down to her lower lips, moaning as he did it like he’d just discovered his favourite ice cream. Then he went in, spearing into her opening, licking inside her and stealing every drop of her arousal.

Bonnie yanked at his hair, uncaring whether she was hurting him or not, she just wanted him closer. Practically smothering him with her pussy, she could feel an orgasm rushing towards her already.

Fuck. She really had missed this.

When he entered her with one of those thick, elegant fingers and then another, curling them upwards as if to draw that orgasm out of her, she straight up quivered.

“Oh god,” she purred, head bumping back against the door, delirious. “Right there.”

“It’s Kai, actually,” he murmured right up against her clit.

Any other time, she would have said something snarky to meet that cockiness halfway.

But this time, she came with a shocked gasp, her wetness seeping out and making a mess out of Kai’s face. He drank it all down, not letting a single drop go to waste, his tongue curling at her nub as she rode his face through the high. When she grew too sensitive, she had to shove him away, her legs trembling so hard she thought she might collapse on the floor.

Kai reluctantly tumbled onto his ass when Bonnie pushed him away. Even now, he wanted to burrow his face in her cunt and keep eating her out, to drown himself in her essence like a glutton.

His dick had other ideas though, clamouring against the zipper of his jeans for relief. He cupped himself through the material, trying to calm himself down. But then Bonnie slapped his hands away and did it for him, massaging him before her fingers made quick work of freeing him.

When she started stroking him, from root to tip, learning the size and weight of him, Kai thought he’d come right there. Shoot like a fourteen-year-old boy watching porn for the first time. He dug his hands into the carpeted floor underneath him, canting his hips into her hands. Then she ducked down to swirl her tongue over the leaking crown of his cock, and he knocked his head back on the floor. He almost lost it when she took him into her mouth, doing her best to swallow all of him and falling just a couple inches short. What she couldn’t fit in her sweltering-hot mouth, she fisted with her hand.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Kai couldn’t help but mutter. The woman was driving him crazy.

She drew off then with a mischievous giggle, her hand still stroking him. “It’s Bonnie, remember?”

Before he could retort, she was crawling up his legs with a condom in hand—where she’d gotten that, Kai didn’t even know or care. He just wanted her to get the thing on and sit on his cock.

She didn’t need him to beg for it, although he would’ve been willing. Soon she had him covered up, and then she was rubbing his cock-head against the furrow of her entrance. When she started to lower herself, they both yelled.

She was tight. So tight, it almost felt like she was strangling his dick on her way down.

He watched her face, the concentrated way she bit on her lower lip as she took him in, inch by agonising inch. The slight wince as her pussy-lips flowered to accept his girth, the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he bottomed out—her tits, still dewy from his kisses, shimmered in the room’s dim lamp-light. He looked down at where they were joined, at the way his cock split her open, and how slick she was, her thighs and even his, shiny with it.

He committed the sight to memory.

She started riding him then, rocking in sinuous circles with a dancer’s grace and power. Kai gripped her hips, his fingers dug into her plump ass, fucking her with as much fervour as she did him.

Neither of them would last long this time, he knew. He didn’t give a shit.

Slipping one hand down between them to strum at her clit, he bent his knees so he could jackhammer upward.

“Oh god, oh god, oh yes—shit—Kai…. Mhm, yes, please…. More.”

Her voice rose in pitch with each word. And Kai spurred her on, his free hand drifting up her sternum to wrap loosely around her neck as she fucked herself on his dick like she’d been born for it.

“You feel so good, Bon. So tight. Fuck, baby—. You wanna come for me?” He was babbling, now. “Come on, for me, I want to see you come for me—”

She pressed one of her hands over his, making his fingers squeeze a little tighter against her jugular, the thrum of her pulse hitched under his palm as she sped up, her hips stuttering as they both hurtled to the edge.

He pinched her clit and that did it.

She wailed, so loud that the sound echoed around the room. Her inner muscles convulsed around his cock and he could feel the wet gush of her pleasure against his loins. That sensation set him off, his balls tightening up and then releasing come in heated spurts.

Kai growled with it, his hips jolting her on his lap as he kept coming until he wondered if the condom would hold it all.

She collapsed into him, and they both lay there on the floor, panting and spent and unable to move.

So maybe Bonnie did have the best sex of her life with a virtual stranger two nights ago. Just kind of sucked that she wouldn’t be having any of that again.

She’d snuck out of Kai’s hotel room at some point in the early hours of the morning. Not before they’d managed to fuck two more times—eventually making it to the bed. Kai’d also woken her at around 3AM with his face buried between her thighs, eating her out like she was his Last Supper. She’d nearly blacked out from that orgasm, only just managing to give him a sloppy hand-job until he came in a splooshy mess against her hip.

Clenching her thighs in remembered pleasure, she couldn’t help but wonder wistfully if she should’ve waited a couple of hours for a repeat. Maybe even hung around and exchanged numbers. After all, he was supposed to be in Mystic Falls on his family business for a few months, maybe they could’ve set up a regular thing.

But old instincts died hard. A part of her didn’t want to face the awkwardness those kinds of encounters tended to bring in the cold light of day.

And, truth was, she hadn’t been so… uncontrolled with anyone in a long time. Kai’d had her so feral with lust that she’d summoned a condom from a drugstore down the street, too desperate to hop on his dick to pause and ask him if he had one in his wallet. That sort of thing, flashing her powers in front of mundanes, was something she would never ordinarily risk. Clearly Kai and his magical penis were dangerous.

So, she’d cut and run. One of her best life skills apparently.

Sighing, she couldn’t help smirking to herself. That night would be one for the record books, for sure. At least she’d have plenty of inspiration when she rang the proverbial devil’s doorbell. She had a feeling she’d be bringing herself off to Kai’s memory for a long while.

And, she’d have something fun to update Emma with when they went out for drinks in a few days.

For now, she needed to pull herself together. “Stop thinking with your vagina, Bonnie Sheila Bennett,” she mumbled to her empty office.

It was nearly nine in the morning, and she was running late for the very first school assembly of the year. While it wasn’t compulsory for all staff to attend, she wanted to be there to greet the returning kids as well as the new ones. And of course, there was the new teacher coming in. It would be a bad look to miss it.

Her heels clacked on the old Salvatore teak-wood floors. For school days, unless she was on a field trip with the kids, she liked to keep her outfits semi-professional. At least for the first few weeks. By mid-terms, she’d be down to bare-minimum-effort jeans and boots. Today, she’d paired a high-necked, sleeveless black jersey dress that had a flouncy bow at the throat and tapered down to her knees with a wide brown belt that made her waist look tiny and ankle boots. Some of her favourite beaded bracelets and cold cuffs around her wrists added some colour.

The hallways were mostly deserted as she made her way to the hall, breaking into a light jog.

In her rush, she didn’t see the body stepping out in front of her from one of the staff offices until it was too late, smacking into a rather broad muscular back and nearly stumbling to the ground. The body—a man—grunted in pain. “What the he—?”

She would’ve fallen if it wasn’t for a pair of arms catching her just in time, holding her in place in a dip as though they were dancing.

Mortified, Bonnie started to apologise, slightly dizzy from having her centre of gravity knocked, she kept her eyes closed. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry—.”

“Bonnie?”

She froze. She knew that voice. Intimately. Had heard that voice call her name out, a little less incredulously and with a bit more lust and awe. And that scent, something that reminded her of long walks in the forest—she knew that one anywhere. No, no, no—this could not be happening—

She opened her eyes. Yeah, this was happening.

“Kai?” she said, her voice a high-pitched yelp.

“What are you doing here?” they both demanded at the same time.

All the while, Kai still held her in his arms like neither of them had anywhere to be. Bonnie tried to convince herself that she didn’t like the sensation of being held like this. But her eyes drifted down to his mouth, which was so close to her own in this position and lingered. She’d not forgotten how good that mouth felt on hers, on her throat, and everywhere else. The things this man could do with—

Giving herself a shake, Bonnie punched him in the shoulder. “Let me up, will you?”

He did as asked, and then looked at her, his indigo eyes wide and amazed as though he couldn’t quite decide if he was dreaming or not.

“Hi there,” he said, his gaze sliding over her form appreciatively.

Bonnie found herself getting caught up in it for a few seconds, a helpless fish snared in his trap, she smiled up at him. He looked good in a simple pale grey Henley and dark-wash jeans—good enough to eat, in fact.

The sound of a microphone squeaking brought her, abruptly, to her senses and she slapped his arm.

“Ow,” Kai complained. “You know if you told me you were into a little rough discipline and punishment play, I would’ve been happy to oblige you a couple nights ago.”

“Shut up,” Bonnie said, gritting her teeth as she dragged him through the nearest open door, shutting it behind her so she could confront him good and proper away from prying eyes. “Seriously, why the hell are you here? How did you even get on the grounds?”

“What do you mean ‘why the hell am I here’? Why are you here? Look, stalking is against the law and while I’m as big a fan of Fatal Attraction as the next guy, and I wouldn’t mind you following me around, I really don’t want to end up dead in a bathtub.”

The longer he yammered, the deeper Bonnie’s frown grew. What was he even going on about? She asked him as much.

“You know, Glenn Close, Michael Douglas, iconic movie, featuring a case of infidelity and then homicidal obsession in which a strong career woman is driven to—.”

“Not about Fatal Attraction, you idiot,” Bonnie snapped. “I meant—humph!”

Whatever she was about to say was swallowed by Kai’s mouth. The kiss started off hard, and a little cruel. Too much teeth and an obvious attempt to shut her up. She struggled for a few seconds before the gentle flick of his tongue against her lower lip made her gasp. He softened the contact to a slow, drugging melding of mouths. When he lapped at her, she did it back, suckling on his plump lower lip. She ran her hands up along his arms, testing the strength of his biceps before settling on his chest.

Kissing him was a bit like drowning, except she didn’t mind at all. They both had to draw back eventually, if only to breathe. They didn’t pull back too far, breath mingling as they stared at each other, equal parts confused by the other’s presence and captivated.

“What are you doing here, Kai?” she asked again, in a whisper.

“You’re a witch,” he said, this time his jaw slackened in wonder. “How did I not notice that you’re a witch?”

“I cloak myself when I’m out and about—safer that way.”

“Of course, I do the same.”

“You’re a witch? Wait.” Bonnie stepped back, the cold realisation sinking in the depths of her gut. And then took a couple more steps away from him so she wouldn’t be distracted by his biceps or his mouth. “You’re the murder-coven’s high warlock who’s coming to teach here? You’re Malachai?”

“Okay, first, we don’t do the murder thing anymore. The Gemini have evolved. Second, I prefer to go by Kai, thank you very much.” He moved towards her because he was finding that he liked it much better when he had her close by.

But Bonnie lurched back, holding out a hand to keep him at bay.

“Don’t. Please, don’t. We can’t do any of what we did here, okay? Or ever again.”

Any other time, Kai might have pressed the issue, but he heard the unsteady note in her voice. The panicky look in her eyes, and he made himself pause.

When he’d woken up in that hotel room a couple days ago, bereft of his bed partner and cuddling a cold, unsatisfying pillow, he’d been a little angry. Somewhere, the women to whom he’d done the exact same thing were crowing with laughter. The one time he wanted to wake up to a woman, specifically one with a pair of pretty jade-cut eyes, and she’d run off under cover of darkness without even saying goodbye or hanging around for a morning quickie. Or, at least another quickie—they’d gone for a fourth knockout round at around 3AM.

He’d resolved that he would never see her again, tamping down the urge to do something cheesy and disturbing like a locator spell to find her. He’d accepted it. Consigned himself to only seeing her again in his dreams and jerking off in (thirsty) memory of that one perfect night for the rest of his days.

And now, that wasn’t true anymore….

He grinned. From the way she side-eyed him, he knew it probably came off as a bit wolfish and predatory.

“Fine, Bon,” he said, keeping his voice calm and placating. He wondered what her last name was. He really needed to finish reading that file Jo prepped for him. “I’ll stop. For now. We should get going anyway, might catch the last few minutes of assembly.”

He could tell she wanted to argue about the ‘for now’, could see it in the stiff set of her shoulders and the way her stubborn jaw clenched. Before she could start, he swept the door open, gesturing for her to lead the way out. “Shall we?”

She didn’t thank him as she stomped passed. Kai shut his eyes as that heady scent of hers washed over him, vanilla and something floral with a hint of jasmine. He could get drunk just from the smell of her. He wanted to bury himself inside her until her scent steeped itself all over his body, became a part of him. Which was, admittedly, the kind of weird thing a stalker would say. He should probably keep that to himself.

He watched the sway of her hips as she stalked towards the assembly hall and remembered how good they felt in his hands. His palms itched.

“Oh, Bonnie—and Kai,” a surprised voice called out to them from the opposite end of the passage-way. Dorian, the deputy head of the school and its librarian ambled towards them, cup of coffee in-hand. “You guys have met, huh?”

Bonnie shot him a quelling glance, which was seriously unnecessary. Did she think he was going to give Dorian the filthy details of just how many times he’d made her come a couple nights ago? He had some boundaries.

“Yeah!” she said, her voice overly loud. “I—um, I noticed Kai wandering around, looking lost so I offered to show him to the hall, ha-ha. Great.”

As excuses go it was flimsy at best. The assembly hall was literally right in front of them. But she darted away as though someone had lit her panties on fire and disappeared into the hall before anyone could call her on it, leaving a bemused Kai and Dorian behind.

“Should we head in?” Dorian asked, his brow quirked in curiosity.

Kai simply nodded and followed him in, just in time for Alaric’s speech.

He settled in a row of seats at the back with Dorian and the werewolf elder on-staff, a stolid blond named Cary. Bonnie was all the way on the other side of the room, refusing to look in his direction.

Kai smirked, settling back in his chair to take a nap with his eyes open while all the boring speechifying was going on. And to do a little plotting.

It was cute that she thought she could run from him, from this thing between them. She didn’t know it yet, but that sort of action was like waving a red flag in front of a bull, like blood-soaked water to a shark. He’d wanted her before. Now that he’d had a taste, now that he knew her taste, he wouldn’t let anything prevent him from having her again.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her gaze skittering away to look at some of the kids once she knew he’d caught her doing it.

Let the games begin

#bkss2019 #bonkai #bonkaishippersclub #leianaberrie #edomeilair #submission

29 notes · View notes

missjosie27 · 4 years

Text

Year 1 Part 7- Nighttime Excursion

Hey, guys! It’s been a little while since I updated the story but I figured it’s long overdue for a new chapter. So for those of you still interested I hope you enjoy!

To say that David Grant went from popular to legend after the incident with Fenrir Greyback would have been a major understatement.

As he was quickly learning, news of any kind of drama or exploits traveled fast around Hogwarts and the effects were immediate. David thought Angelica was about to kiss him when she found out he had won one hundred points in a single night, which not only put Gryffindor ahead in the House Cup standings, but gave something for everyone to brag around. Far from being the social, half mad pariah, David Grant was now on the fast track to becoming the young star of Gryffindor. Bill Weasley was one of the first to point this out, to his slight embarrassment.

“I’m telling you Dave, everyone thinks your brilliant. Even the Slytherins are impressed,” he told him two days after the feast one day at dinner.

“How do you know?”

“They may not admit it out loud, but you can tell,” he responded with a shifty grin. “In any case, the fact that you took on Fenrir Greyback and won has you on the fast track.”

“To what?” David laughed ironically. “Come off it, Bill. You’re way more popular than me. And why does it matter anyway?”

“If I am, you’re giving me a run for my money,” the eldest Weasley said. “And I’m with you, Dave, personal popularity is usually rubbish. But not this time. People are going to remember this forever.”

Indeed, the story was quickly becoming a favorite retelling among the student body, of course with some with minor alterations and exaggerations. For one, some were saying he personally killed two werewolves. Others insisted he overpowered Greyback himself. The only reason he did not object or try to correct them was for the sake Chiara. Dumbledore had told the four witnesses after the feast to refrain from mentioning her name at all, which they gladly obliged. There was no need for anyone else to know she was a werewolf, something for which Chiara was extremely grateful.

“Honestly, I’m about to tell the whole damn school it was your idea if people don’t stop coming up to me and reenact the whole thing,” he joked to her one day when they had a private moment in Herbology.

“Oh, lighten up,” she teased him. “Why not just play the hero for once?”

“Because I don’t want to. It wasn’t about playing the ‘hero’ or any of that tripe. You know the reason I was there fighting by your side.”

“I do,” she said as she quietly fertilized her plant. “And I never got the chance to say a proper thank you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“But I must,” Chiara insisted. “That’s why I knew I could trust you with my secret Dave. When I told you, you didn’t react harshly or start to act weird around me. You were shocked, as most people are when they find out. The difference is, you didn’t treat me any differently than you did before. Being what I am always comes with the risk that people will outcast me. That’s the root of why Greyback is the way he is. But I refuse to let that discourage me or turn me into a monster. And because of that, I know I have people like you I can count on.”

David smiled in appreciation.

“And what about, Penny? How’s she doing with all of this?”

“We’ve actually become a lot closer believe it or not,” she said positively. “I think facing her fear really allowed her to overcome it, or at least see that I wasn’t like Greyback.”

“That’s good. Speaking of, is he due for trial yet in the Wizengamot?”

That brought a look of disappointment from Chiara as she set the fertilizer down.

“Apparently the Werewolf Capture Unit is adequate at finding werewolves but notoriously poor at keeping them locked up. Greyback escaped as he was being taken to the Ministry.”

“I wish I could say that surprises me,” David said rolling his eyes. “Especially with the genius of Cecil Lee.”

“What’s important is that a good chunk of his followers are now in jail. Including the two you fought and took down.”

David nodded as he lightly watered his plant.

“You know in reality, I’m the one who should be thanking you. I’d have been infected or turned into dinner if you hadn’t protected all of us.”

“That’s what werewolf friends are for, Dave,” she said happily, her kindly features beaming at him. “Greyback claims I’ll learn someday what it truly means to have lycanthropy. But in reality, I’ve already figured it out for myself. I don’t deny what I am, but it doesn’t have mean becoming lonely, cut off, and bitter at the world. Maybe someday, I can help others in my situation and we won’t need to hide anymore.”

The girl’s optimism was so inspiring, the first year Gryffindor had to stop himself from shedding tears right there in the middle of class. He had never met anyone as upbeat and caring as Chiara, and for the first time in quite a while, he felt touched.

“I’m sure you will,” he said with a wide smile.

From then on, he knew he had developed an understanding with the werewolf girl that went beyond a simple friendship. Batting the most terrifying werewolf in Britain would do that to a person.

Yes, it was all well and good to have made new friends and become as sensational a first year in many a year. But something still prodded David constantly in the back of his mind- the conversations he had overheard injected a sense of curiosity not easily quelled. It was clear now that the cursed vaults were real and Jacob’s obsession a reality. He was connected to this whether he wanted to be or not. The real question was what he was prepared to do about it? And Rowan kept reminding of that every time the subject came up.

“Dumbledore, Snape, the professors, they’re all in on this,” he said to him one day at lunch. “They’ve been hiding whatever is going on.”

“Well whatever the cursed vaults contain, it doesn’t seem to be affecting anything,” David shrugged.

“David, I know you better than that,” Rowan said to him, as the other boy continually munched on his sandwich. “I may want to be the youngest professor at Hogwarts, but that pales in comparison to whatever phenomenon this is. You want to find out what’s in these vaults too.”

“It’s not so much that as it is finding out what happened to my brother.”

This was true. Whatever supposed treasure lay within the vaults themselves, it held little interest to David. That was the driving force.

“Fair enough,” Rowan said, draining his pumpkin juice.

“Snape and Filch mentioned it was the 13th floor corridor,” David thought to himself. “Why not investigate it one night after everyone’s gone to bed?”

“It could prove useful in a number of ways,” Rowan agreed. “Perhaps there’s something there others have missed.”

“Why wait? Let’s check it out tonight.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want detention so soon after that duel with Merula.”

“That was a month ago,” David dismissed. “Besides, if I can survive a duel and an encounter with werewolves with just detention, I’m pretty sure we’re not going to be expelled if we’re caught in a corridor after curfew.”

“Speak for yourself, I don’t want detention or ruin my perfect attendance record.”

“Rowan, you’ve only gone to Hogwarts two months.”

“Exactly! So if I ruin it now, I’ll never be able to break the record it later on.”

David tossed part of his sandwich at him playfully.

“Anyone ever told you you’re a huge nerd?”

“All the time,” Rowan grinned. “But you’re my friend, Dave, so if you’re going to investigate these vaults, I’m coming with you.”

It really did pay to have a friend like Rowan sometimes. He was as loyal as a Hufflepuff at times.

“Alright, then. Tonight, it is.”

They clinked their goblets in a show of agreement and comradery.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They didn’t have to wait long to sneak out. Ben and Charlie were asleep, the latter of whom was snoring rather loudly. Jae was conspicuously absence, which only left the other two Gryffindor boys.

“What time is it?” David whispered to his friend from his four poster bed.

“Eleven,” Rowan responded glancing at his watch.

“Excellent. Prefects should be done with their patrols. Teachers should be in their offices. We’re ready to roll.”

Both boys slowly slid off their bunks, grabbed their wands and headed down the steps towards the common room. After double checking that Angelica had indeed gone to bed, they slipped past the Fat Lady portrait and made their way towards the desired corridor.

As luck would have it, they encountered no obstacles along the way. A few idle ghosts, floated above and they heard a racket from inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom that could only have been Peeves the Poltergeist (a notorious little entity well known for making student and Filch miserable alike). A few portraits were awoken or grumbled about “rule breaking first years” but the boys paid them no mind. After only a five minute stroll, they arrived at their destination.

“This is it, the 13th corridor,” David whispered.

“Now that we’re here, I’m not so sure about this,” Rowan whispered back. “Didn’t Snape also order Filch to keep the students away from here. What if he catches us?”

“Then we won’t stay long.”

“I’m just saying, I’ve heard stories about how he likes to punish people. The only reason it isn’t worse is because Dumbledore won’t let use shackles.”

“You worry too much,” David elbowed him gently. “Come on, we’ll search the corridor and be out faster than Peeves shoots a spitball.”

Rowan still looked apprehensive but gave in.

“Alright, I trust you Dave. Besides, I’m way too curious about this corridor to back out now.”

And so, they began their investigation. On the surface it didn’t seem like there was anything abnormal or out of sorts about the corridor. It was like any other in the castle- made of stone and brick, a few portraits here and there, torches giving off the little bit of light necessary to see. There wasn’t much to see or search except for a few benches and a couple of random doors.

But after a few minutes of what seemed like a pointless excursion, David began to notice something. A feeling of creeping, bitter cold that made the hairs on his arms stand up. It waxed and waned depending on where he was standing and after pacing around a few times began to pinpoint it.

“Rowan, do you feel that?”

“You mean that isn’t a draft that keeps blasting in here?”

“I think it’s coming from this door. Check this out.”

They approached a normal, brown, oak door, but as they did so the cold began to become much stronger, causing Rowan to shiver.

“Brrr! That’s intense. My family is from India, Dave we aren’t made for this kind of temperature.”

Wrapping his arms around himself, he narrowed his eyes and adjusted his glasses.

“Check this out, Dave. This brick is different from some of the other ones.”

Indeed, it was. As opposed to being the standard grayish coloration, this one was a light gold and had an inscription on it made up of strange, undecipherable symbols.

“Any idea what this means, Rowan?” David asked, relying on his friends’ bookishness, but he shook his head.

“I’ve seen many ancient languages before in textbooks, but this is definitely not one that’s familiar.”

“Can you decipher it?”

“Maybe but-”

They had no time to discuss it further, as out of nowhere appeared a mangy looking cat with tufty fur and red eyes. It seemed to gaze into their very souls, as though it knew they were severely violating curfew.

“Meow!”

“Oh hell, we have to get out of here!” Rowan. “That’s Filch’s cat.”

“Mrs. Norris,” David breathed.

No one knew why the caretaker had named his cat such a bizarre name but any student at Hogwarts knew that wherever she was, Filch wasn’t far behind. Any rule breaking in front of her was practically asking for detention. Their investigation would have to be put on hold for now.

“Run!” he urged his best friend.

Without wasting another second, both boys sprinted out of the corridor to the staircases and didn’t stop until they had reached the safety of Gryffindor tower.

“Vacuous Porcupine!” David huffed out to the Fat Lady as he and Rowan caught their breath.

She gave them a disapproving stare but nevertheless swung open to allow them inside. It was only after they had settled into their dormitory that they allowed themselves to sigh with relief.

“Oh, you guys are back,” came a lazy tone.

David and Rowan nearly jumped ten in the feet in the air.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Jae assured them, raising an eyebrow. He was sitting on his bed, sorting through a burlap sack of items, some of which looked unfamiliar.

“Where were you guys?”

“Just on a nighttime stroll,” David replied, trying to pass their late activity as casually as he could. “What about you? What have got there?”

“Contraband, ready for prospective customers. Looks like we both avoided detention tonight,” he said slyly.

David didn’t feel like expounding further on the adventure that had just occurred. Jae was friendly enough, but he was also a bit shifty, so to speak. Extremely low profile, he had already run afoul of Filch himself for sneaking in banned items.

He gave Rowan a knowing glance, who responded with, “I suppose it goes without saying it’s time for some serious research?”

It was more than that, and though David was eventually able to get to sleep that night (despite Charlie’s continuous snoring) he knew that the time to be passive was over.

It was time to find this cursed vault.

#hogwarts mystery #david grant #mc hphm #rowan khanna #bill weasley #jae kim #chiara lobosca #gryffindor #fanfiction

8 notes · View notes

silyabeeodess · 5 years

Text

FusionFall Writing Prompts: Oct. 2019, Prompt #2:

Dexter and Mandark are getting help from… Albedo? That doesn’t bode well… But a new upgrade to your Spinal-ARCH sounds amazing. If you help with testing, you’ll be one of the first to try the device’s improved ability to mimic certain alien species. Will it be worth it?

I have ideas for both prompts this month, but I’m starting with this one since it’s the longer of the two and there’s some ideas I’m eager to explore in it. Should be divided into four or five parts total, depending on whether or not I’ll keep the middle ones shorter. Enjoy!

It wasn't normal. The summons had been sent out to nearly every research participant shared between Dexlabs and Mandark Industries—and the rivaling boy geniuses that ran each company may very well have called everyone to Tech Square if it wasn't for the war keeping so many of them busy. Summoning this many research participants at once meant only one of two things: A disaster or a breakthrough.

Silya's muscles tensed as her Spinal-ARCH reconnected. For not the first time she was glad that she had missed most of the device's initial testing phases, before a salve had been developed to numb the flesh as it attached itself to a person's back—adhesive plates of a strong, but flexible alien alloy pressing against skin and thin needles piercing through it to reach bone. It wasn't quite as painful as it sounded, but she released a habitual, baited breath all the same. Then she stretched to make sure it had locked on properly, rolling her shoulders and shrugging on a plain tank.

Outside of routine inspections and repairs, she wasn't used to taking the device off. She probably should have more often than she did, but once it was on it was comfortable enough to forget about easily. Her Spinal-ARCH may as well have been a part of her own body. A sidelong glance at the other young women in the locker room—curled lips, terse shoulders, and faint shudders all reflecting a distinct unfamiliarity—hinted that the lax sense of protocol was mutually shared.

Every research participant's Spinel-ARCH had been updated: Increased data, improved storage, and a new program developed to better filter Imaginary Energy. It had been a long while since the last large update and Spinel-ARCHs were already widely distributed among Fusion Fighters as a part of their standard gear. After a day with them off as the alterations were made, everyone was curious about the two-week long tests that awaited them.

Which would begin immediately. Walls of blue-tinted steel surrounded the research participants from every angle as they followed one another out of the locker rooms and into a wide gymnasium. A fenced walkway two stories above wrapped around its perimeter. There, Dexter looked over the crowd with Computress at his side and a tablet in hand. A few minutes passed as the last stragglers entered, then the boy-genius waved them all to attention:

“Greetings, everyone! Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he began, examining data as he spoke, “By now, you all should have received and reattached your Spinal-ARCHs. I will be brief: This latest update to the device should allow you take on full transformations of certain alien species.”

After he typed some control onto the tablet, two tiny drones hovered close to the wall to project a sequence of holographic models that were recognizable to almost everyone present, nicknames given by a certain hero reciting in their minds: Big Chill, Way Bad, Ghostfreak, Ampfibian—alien forms all somewhat altered to better fit a humanoid frame. An excited murmur fell over the crowd.

Dexter noticeably stood a little straighter as he continued, “You will note that these are not perfect transformations. As these forms will encase around your physical bodies, they will mimic your physical limits. However, I am pleased to announce that—in each form—you may experience different enhancements through the manipulation of imaginary energy. Testing these enhancements will be the primary objective for this week’s experiments. Today, you are free to explore each of the transformations for yourselves as my scientists and I monitor your progress.”

The quiet chatter between the research participants increased. Silya looked away from the holograms still flashing through the different alien forms to her own hands. Nearly every Fusion Fighter wanted to explore the limits of their imaginary energy: She was no different. There were a few, rare full transformations in the Spinal-ARCHS datalogs, but for the most part transformations were restricted to minor extensions from their bodies—tentacles that lacked complete coordination or wings that couldn’t actually support them because they simply weren’t strong enough. If Dexter and Mandark had really found a way to expand on their current abilities…

All of a sudden, Computress tapped Dexter on the shoulder, giving him a slight, reprimanding look. The redhead blinked at the android before his proud expression somewhat hardened. He raised a hand to silence the crowd once more. “I feel I should mention,” he frowned, “that this update is—in part—thanks to the cooperation of the Galvan scientist Albedo, whose specialization in alien technology benefited our research for these new transformations. Given his history with Ben Tennyson, however, I understand should anyone have their reservations. You may leave the experiments at any time with your Spinal-ARCH redacted to its previous update, but if you do so now please exit outside before we begin momentarily.”

Saying that some of them had ‘reservations’ was putting it lightly. The very mention of the false Ben’s name sent many into a bewildered, bitter chatter of suspicion. Even most those who weren’t major fans of the teenage hero had heard of the Galvan: He was slated along with all the other large reports of villains who had sided with the Fusion Fighters for one reason or another. Some even had the displeasure of meeting him in-person. Why Dexter or Mandark would team up with him was beyond them.

However, for all of their wariness against Albedo, they did trust Dexter. There was no telling what was happening over at Mandark Industries—where Mandark’s own group of lab rats was likely receiving the same kind of speech—but only a handful of people squirmed through the crowd to exit the gym from the right. As the doors opened, they could see a small group of Dexbots waiting for them. Luckily for Dexter, their numbers were shockingly about the same.

Silya was surprised that she herself stayed rooted were she stood, her fists gripped tightly to her sides. The more reserved, rational side of her mind cursed her, but she wanted this. She became a research participant at Dexlabs for two reasons: The pay was great and the potential to explore groundbreaking territory all too tempting. It came with big risks, but just as big rewards. For her own ambitions, she hopes one of those rewards would include gaining better mastery over her own imaginary energy.

Whatever their reasons—loyalty, curiosity, insanity—the bulk of the research participants stayed behind. Most all of them weren’t new to questionable or unorthodox tests: Their bosses had already weeded out anyone who would shrink back at their mad science several times over. Some of them had handled prototype explosives, dipped in vats of fusion matter, and travelled through time. They weren’t the sort anyone could chase away easily.

Dexter knew that all too well, and once again grinned at those who remained. He pressed a few more controls on his tablet and the gymnasium slowly began to alter while the group watched on, unphased. On the left side of the gym, platforms and poles rose from the floor in a kind of miniature obstacle course; targets popped out from behind hidden panels along the wall; the sliding door to the storage closet unlocked, giving them access to everything contained within.

“Take each of the transformations slowly,” he instructed, “and take note of any physical changes that may occur. Each of you will need to submit a full report of your experiences before you leave the lab. You may use any of the equipment, but should you experience any pain or discomfort at any point, speak to one of the Dexbots present immediately.”

With that, the research participants split up. Silya glanced at the still-looping hologram footage. The Big Chill form was the closest to her usual transformations: All types of wings—while difficult for those without experience to summon—were popular among most Fusion Fighters. To this day no one could actually fly with them, but they could give a bit of a lift and added protection when one had to jump from extreme heights.

A faint tingle dully thrummed along the slope of her back as the Spinal-ARCH activated, already hijacking messages from her brain to her spine and throughout her nerve fibers. She envisioned a set of wings fluttering gently behind her; softer than what she was used to, lighter, moth-like. Sure enough, they emerged from a split-second spectacle of light as her imaginary energy concentrated into a solid form—fitted on top of her clothes and the device, but mentally cabled to her nervous system like any other part of her body. If it weren’t for the way they fit over the fabric, it’d be impossible to tell that they weren’t a true part of her.

She was surprised by how dense the wings felt though, especially compared to what she was used to. The lack of true substance was what made their instability so frustratingly obvious her. For the moment, Silya tried to brush it from her mind: She wanted to complete the transformation before anything.

It took a few minutes. She watched in fascination as her imaginary energy continued to materialize, black and blue plates shifting over her like a thin, flexible suit of armor. They ran over her arms, her legs, her torso until they lastly began to fit along the more subtle angles of her face. She held her breath—this part was new, and she had to clasp onto the vision of a helmet to keep her concentration from breaking. A strange filter that barely stained everything a faint green settled over her eyes as the ‘mask’ finished constructing itself.

To ensure a complete, stable transformation it was often better for Fusion Fighters to watch them take shape whenever they experimented with something new. Fortunately, the gym had a series of wide mirrors along part of one wall, where a crowd had already gathered. Not everyone went ahead with the full transformations, but nearly everyone who had was over there. Silya jogged the short distance to them, brushing shoulders to reach an empty frame, and stared at her own reflection. The sight of the apparition before her was jarring, but besides a few mistakes—which quickly patched over themselves to match each of her mental corrections—it seemed perfect. There she was, a strange, human copy of the Necrofriggian race; shorter, with a more feminine waist and eyes dipped closer to their true peridot color instead of the bold lime or malachite the species was better known for.

Her heart leapt. There were a few other ‘whole’ transformations within the datalogs, but most of them seemed off in some way or another to her so she rarely used them. This was the sort of big step she wanted to take…

Again though, she noticed something strange. In her excitement, her wings gave an instinctual flap. Silya felt her body actually rock in place at the motion, not expecting the subtle force behind it. Reaching back across her shoulder, her fingertips gently traced the edge of one wing. She actually felt as though there were nerves under it, twitching at the new sensation. It did feel more real than any of her past attempts, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly how that was the case.

Startled shouts rose over the casual ambience of the gym. Although at different phases, around a third of the research participants who had activated their Spinal-ARCHs also started out with the Big Chill transformation. One of the other girls who had only summoned her wings thus far tested them out with a few, powerful flaps—and was apparently just as unprepared for the force behind them. It threw her body forward and the people around her moved away to avoid a near collision. She stumbled, but caught herself.

Or rather, her wings did. Clumsily, yes, but they clearly pulled her back, dragging her a few centimeters with her toes lightly grazing the floor. Those nearby looked at her in astonishment, the girl hardly able to make sense of what happened herself.

It took seconds for the others to begin to test out the strengths of their wings. Silya gently moved her own and smiled along to the excited chatter that picked up once again as each person made little discoveries to their new transformations. The awkward, uncoordinated handling could easily be blamed on a lack of practice, but they did feel like they truly were a part of her—the product of a second skin. She looked up to where Dexter still stood watching them over the walkway railing to find the boy-genius practically grinning from ear to ear with pride. Enhancements… she shook her head, That’s the understatement of the year.

It was times like these when she loved her employer’s mad science.

Silya didn’t even bother touching the equipment for now. She just found a relatively empty, little corner of the gym to continue practicing her dexterity with her new ‘body.’ She only wished she could practice longer with it, but she didn’t want to risk straining the device or herself yet and she’d need to make time to test out the other forms before the day’s experiments ended. Guess the third scientist’s the charm—even if Albedo’s a crook.

All-in-all, things were looking up.

END OF PART ONE

Continue: https://silyabeeodess.tumblr.com/post/188177587074/fusionfall-writing-prompts-oct-2019-prompt-2

#fusionfall #fusionfall fic #Dexter #Dexter's Laboratory #dexlabs #research participants #spinel-arch #fusionfall retro #computress #ben 10 #video games

7 notes · View notes

easilydistractedandamused · 6 years

Text

Chapter ten of Billy Bat Son for those that don’t want to follow the link

Chapter 10: Normalcy?

“I’m glad to see you cleared up the family problems,” Clark said as he walked along side Shazam in the Watchtower’s hallway.

“Yeah. I just needed to work out a different approach, really, to sneaking away,” he said easily as they entered the monitor room (or as Hal and Shazam liked to call it, the Room of Boredom as this was where they monitored the world for crimes and natural disasters. Neither of the two were allowed to be on monitor duty at the same time after a certain... incident ).

“Your family doesn’t know?” he asked curiously. Clark had always assumed his family, outside of his uncle that is, knew about his second job as a hero.

“Two members of my family know, but only because they saw me transform, like Vic did,” he said flippantly.

“Really? I thought you trusted them with it,” Victor said curiously from where he was sitting at the monitor, turning to face them and anyone else Clark would’ve lectured but Vic was still capable of doing his job even gossiping and not even looking at the monitor itself. They all knew he only really did it for a sense of normalcy.

“I don’t trust,” he replied with a small smile that suggested a story behind it. A story Vic knew if his own amused smile was to go by.

“And it took you two weeks to learn how to sneak away?” Hal asked curiously from his seat next to Vic, very glad for the distraction right now.

“Like sneaking away from Batman, I swear,” Shazam grumbled and Vic just looked even more amused before turning back to the monitor before they could notice and question him about it. Of course sneaking away from Bruce was like sneaking away from Batman, he was Batman.

Being the only one that knew the truth made it difficult at times like these to keep a straight face.

“You still managed it though,” Vic said once he was sure his amusement was more neutral based and not too obvious.

“Yeah, because sneaking away from him isn’t that difficult,” Shazam said with a raised brow like it should have been obvious, making all of them pause and look at him at this because no one ever said sneaking away from Batman was easy. He was Batman .

“I’m sorry, what?” Hal asked and Shazam looked around for a quick moment, as if afraid that Batman would suddenly appear out of nowhere. Not an unfounded fear, to be sure. “It sounded like you said sneaking away from Batman isn’t that difficult,” he said using his pinky to dislodge the word altering ear wax because there was no way he said what he thought he said.

“Because I did,” he said.

“Okay, now I’m curious. How do you sneak away from Batman?” Vic asked, turning to face him and giving him his full attention.

“Easy. Tell him where you’re going,” he said with a shrug. “He’ll check in five minutes, see you there and not think it’s worth his time, in ten minutes you can slip away to your real destination and he won’t even realize,” he said like it was the easiest thing to come up with, like everyone did it.

No wonder it worked on Batman, Hal couldn’t help but think as he looked at Shazam with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked at how they were staring at him.

“I just want to take a peek into that brain of yours, Sparky, because that idea would not appear in anyone’s head but would totally work,” he said and Shazam fondly rolled his eyes at the pilot’s antics.

“I grew up in Foster Care, man, I needed to get creative if I even wanted a minute to myself,” he told them and Clark blinked at the admission. Shazam did not easily share about his life outside the cape, well, to anyone that wasn’t Victor Stone that is.

“Do you think you can take monitor duty today?” Clark asked him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I can manage anything up here for more than an hour before people get suspicious,” he said.

“Stop trying to get out of monitor duty,” Clark told him, because he had obviously been exaggerating in an attempt to get out of it.

“Aw,” he said with a mock pout.

“We’ll still let you leave in an hour. Come on, I’ll catch you up on what’s been going on,” Vic said and Hal moved out of the way for him to sit in the chair, more than happy for an excuse to leave early.

Shazam’s pleading look was easily ignored as Hal moved over to the door, Clark give him an amused, if sympathetic, look before he followed suit.

As Vic droned on with some boring facts (that he knew were important but couldn’t quite bring himself to care) Billy couldn’t help but wish that he was back to being trapped inside Wayne Manor because at least there he could find ways of entertaining himself.

Thinking about it, he should start a garden to grow some of the herbs he would need later. He doubted they would mind too much. No one ever seemed to mind when Billy did this, because it was a sign that he was comfortable enough to start to make plans to make the place he was staying for comfortable and home-y.

Those were usually the times he would get kicked out of some of the homes, because they didn’t want Billy, didn’t like him. He didn’t overly mind too much though, as he could just make a garden in a park after dark to grow these herbs. No one ever noticed as long as he planted them behind some bushes or a tree far enough in the park.

He actually had a small area of the park that he always went to to restock his supply as the plants were left unattended there for some reason, forgotten by the park caretakers.

Curious as he was about that, Billy found he didn’t care as it made things easy for him. No one ever noticed if someone planted some magic herbs there.

But making a trip back to Fawcett for some plants was too much, even for him, and he wouldn't be able to properly keep an eye on the plants progress. No, it needed to be close...

“Are you even listening to me?” Vic asked.

“You were talking about making protocols for some countries,” he said boredom laced in his voice. He had long since developed the ability to get lost in thought while someone was talking and somehow retain the information they were spouting.

Vic gave him a slightly suspicious look, as if he wanted to call him out for not listening but didn’t know how after he just repeated what he last said. It was a look Billy was very used to.

“Yeah, because some of them have closed borders and don’t want us entering and we don’t want to create an international incident…” he said voice getting distance.

“Uhuh. International incidents are bad,” he said in bored agreement.

He was going to need to restock on wolfsbane, now that he thought about it. Some Thyme too. Actually, he was pretty sure he saw that on the grounds of Wayne Manor and would need to check.

He shifted on the chair so his legs were folded as he found it more comfortable, but barely even noticed the shift in posture himself.

Although, if he used their stock of Thyme, they were bound to notice and get curious as it disappeared without notice. They’d probably also be curious as one of them was bound to notice that he had Thyme in his garden.

Once Vic heard Billy let out a small subconscious hum, he stopped talking because he knew that sound. That was the sound he made when he was lost in thought and glancing at him, he knew it was true because his legs were folded as he floated a few inches above the chair, arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful little frown pulling at his face as his body sparked with restless energy.

He wondered how long it would take Billy to realize he had stopped talking and was looking at him.

Watching over the state of the world, he idly set a timer and stared at Billy. He hoped this had nothing to do with the Penguin thing he was planning, but knowing Billy, it was a very strong chance.

After a while, Billy realized the room was quiet and that he was being stared at expectantly and lifted his gaze to see Vic staring at him with a slight hint of boredom and amusement, face leaning against one of his hands similar to how Billy had been sitting earlier.

“This is a whole new record for you. It took you one hour and ten minutes,” he said with that hint of amusement and Billy felt himself start to break out into a nervous sweat from habit, knowing that being caught not paying attention usually resulted in punishment from his experience. He also knew that Vic would never hurt him like that, that not everyone would fly into a mindless rage.

“I’m not angry or anything,” he said and Billy knew he had been able to read him, pick up the way his heartbeat started to speed up as his entire body tensed as he readied himself to move. He had picked all this up and assured him as best as he could without ruffling Billy’s feathers like others have done in the past.

“Oh, poor darling. I would never hurt you. It’s okay, you don’t have to be scared,” a woman’s voice rang in the back of his mind. All that had done was make him angry, because he didn’t need pity, for someone to call him out on someone else’s screw ups, for some stranger to pull him in for a hug when he was still thinking about running, when he was still coming to the realization that he was safe. All that did was make his hackles raise, make him freak out worse and give a very obvious flinch he could never quite help.

“I know,” he said with a sheepish smile. Vic never did that though when Billy slipped up like that, patiently waiting for him to pay attention again and never once getting angry at him but it was only a matter of time before Billy did something wrong and ruin their friendship, before Vic got tired of him like everyone else . Vic would even assure him that he wasn’t angry with usually a joke and never once tried to touch him when Billy was like this.

Most things that kids found comforting: hugs, stroking of the hair...it set Billy’s teeth on edge. He preferred companionable silence.

Vic was the only person to give him that, to let Billy control the pace, to let Billy initiate all contact or barring that, to leave an open invitation (holding up a hand for a high five, holding out his fist for a fist bump…) that Billy could refuse whenever he wanted. He never wanted to refuse.

“So, what exactly were you thinking about?” Vic asked curiously.

“I’m thinking of starting a garden,” he said with a grin.

“I didn’t realize you had a green thumb,” Vic said raising a brow in amusement and that small still panicking part of his brain finally calmed down because everything was starting to feel normal again between them, because this was their usual.

“Yeah, well, I happen to find it relaxing,” he defended himself, letting his eyes slip close as he lifted his chin as he spoke, something he usually wouldn’t do with other people. “Besides, these are herbs with magical leaning, so they’re pretty darn important, but I can’t use the park anymore,” he said and Vic opened his mouth before closing it, brows furrowing in confusion.

“You used the park for magic plants?” he asked.

“Park maintenance pretty much forgot about this one corner so the plants grow pretty wild there,” he said simply. “I used it when I was between places and couldn’t make my own garden,” he said and to anyone overhearing they would assume that he meant when he was moving apartments or if his apartment wouldn’t let him have a garden for himself, not when he was being shuffled home to home by social services

Smiling to himself as he walked home, Billy was actually pretty proud of himself for being able to convince Alfred (because Billy knew who was really in charge) to let him have a garden on the balcony, and not only that, but also to let Billy pick up the plants himself.

He was pretty stubborn on that last point, actually, because a lot of them you’d have to go to “special” shops only seen to those that have magic flowing through their blood.

Gotham didn’t have many of those shops, as even magic users respected Batman’s “no metas in Gotham” rule. However, the plants he needed were those of a peaceful nature and necessary for most potions and elixirs.

Fortunately, the money Alfred had given him combined with his own savings were more than enough to buy the plants.

Usually, he’d turn into Shazam and fly over to where they naturally grew but that took about a week or longer and he didn’t have that much time to search for a plant he could buy in a local shop (albeit for about a thousand dollars. Rare plants weren’t cheap afterall).

He heard a buzzing from his pocket and knew it was from Alfred (again) but Billy knew the limo would give them away in this part of town so he hadn’t really told him he was going to get the plants, just that he was going for a walk (which, technically, it was. Halfway across town, sure, but he was walking). His hands were full at the moment so he couldn’t just send a text back to him either.

Suddenly, he heard a strange sound behind him and dropped the bags, ready to move, as the bags disappeared before they could hit the ground (Mugging Guarantees were worth the extra hundred dollars, as the bags would harmlessly return to the store for the buyer to return for it or a prearranged drop off point).

Before he could turn around, a cloth went over his mouth and he recognized the damp, sweet scent presented before him and struggled before an arm (broad. Brown coat. Hands covered in black leather gloves. Male) wrapped around his middle, pressing him against a broad back (further proving his assailant was a male. Worked out, but not enough to be completely ripped) and managed to pull his hand away to possibly claw at the hand holding the rag and maybe make it pull away before his wrist was grabbed (multiple assailants. Unknown number) and he went limp as everything went black

14 notes · View notes

kinetic-elaboration · 7 years

Note

59 for bellarke plsee!

Bellarke, Modern AU, ~2,300 words

For the prompt “Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stayI’ll never leave you again” from this list.

On AO3.

Bellamy Blake was not left at the alter. That is the salacious-gossip version of the story, the one that’s spread its way around town because the Mayor’s daughter is the closest to celebrity that Arkadia has, and because the accident made front-page news, and because that’s what gossip does: it builds upon itself, it grows beyond itself.

The truth isno less painful, but quieter. It lacks the drama of a groom in his best suit,waiting at the end of the aisle, hopeless and pathetic as the interminableseconds pass him by. The truth was Clarke pacing back and forth on their frontporch, refusing to talk to him, while he perched on the railing and made up worst-casescenarios in his head. The truth was her walking halfway down the steps, like she was planning on walking right out of town without turning back. He doesn’t remember anymore what she said. Something about needing space and time. He’d said he could go with her, they could get away together, but even then, hating the way he sounded like he was pleading, hating the words as they were formed by traitorous lips and tongue, he knew what she meant

That she needed a clean slate, or something.

She gave him back his ring—the one he’d feltso silly buying, because Clarke had never been a jewelry person and he wasn’t adown-on-one-knee type—and left it to him to break the news to their friends.

He put their house up for sale, moved intoan apartment, and, after a few months, started to move on.

Clarke comes back to him first as a rumor: a text fromMiller in the middle of a long late-summer afternoon. Just saw Clarke and Abby downtown. If it were anyone else bringingthe news, Bellamy would ask are you sure?,but Miller would take that as an insult. Of course he’s sure.

So Bellamy doesn’t answer with anything at all, and hespends the rest of the day changing his mind over and over, first hoping he’llrun into her himself, then hoping he won’t.

She contacts him in the evening, after dark in Augustso it feels later than it is: 9pm but midnight black outside his window as hesits next to his bedside lamp, trying to read. Her text says: can we talk? Staring at it, he starts towonder if he’s lost track of himself entirely, if hours or even days or weeksof time have fallen away under his feet. They haven’t spoken at all in sixmonths. Who starts a conversation after half a year without even so much as a hey or a how have you been? Has his mind swallowed up whole phone calls orlong all-day texting strings? Is there a black hole in his memory reserved justfor her?

Impossible, because he remembers everything. Thesunlight on her face in the morning, the smell of her hair, the sound of herlaugh, the feel of her skin.

He sets his phone down; he stares at the bold blackletters in his book.

His phone pings again and he snatches it up, rightaway. His reflexes know his wants, more than his mind does.

I know I can’task that of you. It’s not fair. But I’m saying please.

Just like Clarke, still so full of pride, to declarewhat she’s saying instead of just saying it.

Please.

He plans to write back tomorrow and suggest someneutral place and time, something unobtrusive, that won’t set him back at allin this life he’s so painstakingly living. But instead he types out come over and sets both phone and bookaside.

Clarke has the highest caffeine tolerance of anyoneBellamy’s ever known: she drinks coffee some nights right before she goes tosleep, curled up under winter blankets with a big white mug of it, like otherpeople drink hot chocolate or tea. He considers making some for her. But thethought so disgusts him—doing somethingnice for the woman who left you, that’s pathetic, why do you hate yourself somuch still?—that he ends up shuttling her old mug across the kitchencounter top, slamming his palms against the stove when it ricochets back fromthe wall. Useless, useless.

He makes green tea for himself and swears he won’toffer her a thing.

When she arrives, she looks smaller than heremembered: shorter, thinner, slighter. He invites her in but says as little aspossible. She’s the one who wanted to talk, after all. Let her talk. Let hersay what she traveled all the way back home to say, let her set thisconversation on its track.

“You have a nice place,” she says.

“Thanks.”

It’s not just bitterness, or a desire to punish her,that keeps the rest of his words shoved against the back of his throat. It’sthe strong, magnetic pull of her. It’s Clarke, love of his life, ghost of hisdreams, the one, standing in hiskitchen staring at the linoleum floor, quiet, breathing, living, real, closeenough to touch. She’s stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket—some lightweight blue thing he’s never seen before—and he can see that they’re curledinto fists. She’s letting the short blunt ends of her nails bite into her ownskin. If someone had told him two months ago, or three, or four, where she was,he’d have gone after her. Wouldn’t have hesitated. Would have jumped in his carand crossed the country for her because missing her was easier than hating her,missing her was the easiest thing in the world to do. Missing her formed thebackbone of his days and nights.

Now that she’s here, those feelings are resurfacing,battling with the bitter disdain he’s only recently allowed himself to feel.

He won’t stand for her, unmoored and listless in hisown tiny kitchen, so he sits down with his tea at the table and he waits forher to speak. He wonders what his gaze feels like, if she’s asking herself whathe’s thinking, if she feels exposed and on the spot under the overhead light.He catches her glancing at her own reflection, pitched back at her from theshining black surface of the window.

“I’m sorry,” she says, finally.

Those words should come as no surprise. What elsecould she have said? And yet—he never expected her to say it.

He inclines his head, looks down.

“Bellamy.” She pulls back a chair, thescrape of it backwards louder than his name had been, and sits down with herhands on the tabletop. Her fingers are so close that he could reach out forthem, if he wanted, and it would be almost no effort at all. “I… I guessI thought when I got here, I’d know what to say.”

The corner of his lips twitches up. Of course, shethought the right words would just come to her. Clarke always trusted herinstincts.

“Because I always knew what to say to you. I feltlike I could say anything to you.”

He huffs out a hard, angry breath through his nose. That’sa lie, an obvious lie, when her old silences still haunt him. After theaccident, she withdrew so completely that their last conversation, the way shestood so still on the second porch step and he just waited, knowing alreadywhat she would say, felt like a post script or an afterward, more than a finalchapter or a climactic reveal. He’d triedto talk to her about it. He’d given her every opportunity to let it out. Shewas the one who pushed the conversation off, pushed him away.

“I hated myself,” she says, now, loud anddefensive as she leans into the gap between them. “I hated myself so muchI couldn’t stand to be around anyone.”

He doesn’t ask evenme? because he knows the answer: especiallyyou, you who were trying so hard.

“It wasn’t your fault, what happened—”

“Don’t. You know it was. I don’t need you to lieto me.”

At least now they sound human; there’s warmth, heat totheir voices, passion creeping up from the embers.

“Maya’s dead,” she continues, softer butwith that thrum of emotion still beneath. “And Raven’s leg—”

“Raven is getting better, which you would know,if you’d been here. She didn’t ask you to leave. Jasper didn’t ask you toleave. I didn’t.”

“Okay.” She pulls back again, like the wordswere an assault, and Bellamy feels his own face heating up. He wants to get up,walk away, splash cold water on his skin, but he can’t walk out on her. Hecan’t walk out on this, like she did.

That’s a punch too low. Even though the words wereunsaid, he feels guilty for them.

She takes her hands off the table and puts them in herlap, holding them palms out first, just for a moment, her fingers curling in.Maybe a defensive gesture, maybe a surrender. “I left for me. I nevertried to say otherwise.” She takes another breath, in it another spasm ofwords unsaid, because that isn’t quite true. She did say, at the time, thatthey’d be better off without her there. That she kept the wound from healing.

“I knowI left for me,” she corrects.

Bellamy lifts his mug up slowly, drinks slowly. If hestretches out this moment, maybe the right words will come. Maybe these lastminutes will settle themselves in place, and it will all make sense, and he’llunderstand what he’s been waiting half a year to understand.

Or maybe he won’t.

"Why did you come back?” he asks instead, suddenand sharp. “If you’re trying to explain, you’re not doing a very good job.You’re not telling me anything I didn’t already know.”

“I know!” She spits the words out butswallows the rest down, and the expression on her face is only sadness andregret. “I know, I’m not—I’m not here to explain anything.” She looksdown at her hands, at her fingers twisting up around each other in her lap. Fora long time, for so long he starts to wonder if this silence will ever bebroken, she just breathes deep breaths and he watches her, how the air fillingher lungs moves her shoulders and her chest. He listens to the slight tremor inthose breaths. He wonders if she’s scared. If she’s holding back tears.

If she did cry, would he hold her? Would he be able tostop himself from holding her?

He’s just angry enough, still, to watch her with hisown impassive face, emotionless like stone as her own facade crumbles, slowly.

“I just want to come home, Bellamy,” shewhispers, at last. “I don’t want to talk about what happened. I’m sorrythat I hurt you and I want to come home.”

Bellamy looks down. He moves his mug just a little sohe can watch the ripples that echo out across the surface of his tea, so he canknow that movement is still possible, when he himself feels so frozen. Heunderstands now why Clarke took so long to speak. She’s been broken down thislast year, but she’s always had her pride, held on to it in desperation even asshe packed her bags and shoved them into the backseat of her car and droveaway, and to let go of it now is the last and most brutal injury left to her,perhaps the most difficult challenge of all.

He has a certain amount of sympathy for that.

“Just say something, Bellamy, please.Anything.”

His mind cycles quickly through impossible phraseafter impossible phrase, until he settles finally on: “If you want to moveback, I can’t stop you.” He won’t look at her face as he says it, becausehe knows that it’s cruel: to so purposefully misconstrue her, to let her thinkthat that’s all he has to say.

“You know what I mean. I want to come home toyou.”

She gives him only a few seconds to answer—hedoesn't—then she’s pulling her chair close and reaching for his hands, tiltingher head to try to catch his eye. Pathetic desperation in the way she’sgrabbing for him. He recognizes something just as sorry and just as sad insidehimself, where already there’s a part of him clamoring to forgive and forget itall.

“I’m not going to sit here and waste your timeand beg. I won’t do it. You’ll either understand why I left or you won't—”Her voice, too hard and too sharp, starts to cut at them both, and she swallowshard again and holds his hands tighter and closes her eyes. “Just—tell meto go and I will, but if you ask me to stay, I’ll never leave you again. Ipromise. That’s all I can promise, Bellamy. The future, that’s it.”

He misses her so brutally, he can barely breathe.

It takes him a long while, so long that Clarke hasbowed her head down so that her forehead rests against their hands, and all ofhis own defenses have completely crumbled away, but finally he answers, “Idon’t want you to leave.”

Clarke doesn’t move, but she grabs his hands tighter,so hard that it hurts and he feels her nails pricking sharp crescents in hisskin. He struggles to rearrange her fingers and his fingers. It’s a relief tofeel their palms pressed together at last, their fingers laced together. Arelief: like the first step in coming home.

When she sits up, he can see that she’s been crying,so he wipes away her tears with his thumb. He’s almost surprised to feel thathe still has such gentleness in him. And Clarke smiles, not like she’s happy,but like she’s hopeful, and wraps her arms around him, and he hugs her back andlets the barrier between them, a sediment of time and silence and regret, finallyand simply wash away.

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bffnet #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #the 100 #modern 100 #mine #my writing #answered #anonymous

81 notes · View notes

petite-neko · 7 years

Text

Nexus of Time - 01

Fanfiction: Nexus of Time Story Summary: Gohan trapped with in the depths of time! Now, Trunks needs to save Gohan and allow him his three years of training… for yet unknown to both of them, Gohan is the future saviour of Earth! But how can Trunks save somebody whom he doesn't know needs saving? Fandom: Dragon Ball Z Characters: Gohan, M!Trunks, M!Bulma Pairing: Gohan/M!Trunks, M!Gohan/M!Trunks Rating: T Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Angst, PTSD, Universe Alteration Author’s Notes: So! I'm just doing some touch ups to the story, so the first twelve chapters may have a different feel to them.I'll probably end up adding in more warnings as necessary. This is a very long story! (I set up a ko-fi account guys! Feel free to donate! Link in blog description!)

(Check source for ao3 link!)

I am sorry to put this here, but due to people who have been stalking and harassing me for a certain type of content: THIS WORK WILL NOT CONTAIN SHOTA. NO, I AM NOT GOING TO WRITE YOU A SELF-INSERT FANFICTION. Leave me alone, you are not welcome here.

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

As they waved goodbye to the man who had saved them from Frieza, Gohan watched in awe. Strong, this man was so strong… He wondered more about this mysterious man. Part of him wanted to know more. Like who was he? How did he become a super Saiyajin? Where was he from?

And his feet, they had a mind of their own. The crept forward – step by step – quietly answering to his curiosity. That is, before a blow hit the back of his head. When Gohan glanced backwards, he could see that it was Krillin’s elbow. Accidental…

Weak… he was weak. And sick. His stomach… it was churning. The world, it was spinning, and Krillin’s form was blurring.

And why? Why did he seem like he was staring at the other for minutes? Why? Why did it feel like it would take him hours to reach the ground as he fell?

And why? Why did it feel like his body was being ripped apart?

.+++.

When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was the smell. First and foremost, he could smell vomit. Next, dust. That old… stale dust. And burning. Smoke... and when he opened his eyes, the ground beneath him was filled with rubble.

Where am I?

Gohan pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes and looked around.

His eyes widened at the sight that he was greeted with.

What…What had happened? His neck snapped around frantically. The whole city was destroyed, fires burning around him. Cars were crashed into one another, into walls and the ground, long abandoned… and… was that blood under him?

(He was about to check himself, but realised that it was old. Dried and caked on.)

He was not in the desert where Frieza landed, nor near the crater his father landed in when he came home. Cautiously, Gohan wandered through the ruined city, searching for any sort of life. It seemed that this place had suffered a recent attack and… ones before. Yet, nobody was around, except very weak ki’s – even compared to a normal human.

“Boy!” A low, cautious voice hissed at him and Gohan turned in response. “What are you doing? It’s dangerous out there! Come in! Come in!”

There was an old lady frantically gesturing him in. However there was the calculated way that her eyes would shift to the sides - almost paranoid.

Gohan could not sense any malice in her ki, and so he followed her in. He needed to know what happened anyway. When he entered her crudely made shelter (it was just a pile of rubble cleverly camouflaged) he sat down on a chair offered. “I am sorry to intrude.” He said softly, looking down at his folded hands. “But… may I ask what happened here?”

“Oh boy, have you lost your memory? Did those abominations make you hit your head too hard?” She asked before letting her hand brush over his head.

Gohan hissed as her fingers pressed into the bruise Krillin left on his head.

“My poor dear. It seems that you have.”

Gohan looked up at the woman in a clueless manner. “But–”

“But I suppose that is for the best… nobody can remember the good days anymore, when the world ran peacefully and normally. When the worst of our worries were humans running around with guns or poverty. Not even King Piccolo caused the world to be this bad.”

Gohan’s eyes widened. He remembered the story of King Piccolo. He was the father of his mentor, Piccolo, and he was evil, pure evil. His mentor, however, was completely different. “What… What happened?” Gohan asked cautiously. Perhaps it was best if he played amnesiac, that was until he was sure what was going on. Something bad had happened while he was out. It wasn’t nice to lie, and even though he wasn’t really lying, he was letting the old woman believe something that wasn’t true. Yet, it seemed better to… and what she believed wasn’t far off from the truth. He didn’t remember because he didn’t know what was going on, and perhaps he really did have amnesia but didn’t really know it, but it only blocked his most recent memories. He couldn’t remember how he got here and what happened.

“Think of it as a blessing that you don’t remember young lad.” The old woman said with a worn smile and ruffled his head. “Just stay with me and it’ll all be fine. Oh, would you happen to remember your name?”

Gohan frowned slightly but forced it away. “My name is Gohan.”

The old lady’s smile quivered and fell, a soft longing in her eyes. “So your parents named you after that tragic hero? He must have saved their lives… oh it’s a pity that he had to die so young…”

Gohan’s eyes widened. What..? What’s going on? I was named after my great-grandfather… and he died as an old man. “Um…” The child murmured.

“You probably wouldn’t even know him, even if you had your memory, would you? You would just be a wee little lad when he died. It was four years ago since that tragic day in this city. Why! You even look like him.” She said with another worn smile. “He was our hope in this desolate Earth. He fought off those monsters, yet they always seemed to overpower him. He was our strongest fighter. His hair would turn gold – just as the sun, his eyes would turn the blue-green of the seas. He would hold off the monsters as we would run away to safety...”

Gohan’s eyes widened even further. Super Saiyajin? There’s… there’s only one Gohan who can do that, only one Gohan with the Saiyajin heritage… None of this was making sense. The amount of damage that had been done… (Even if he had been out for months it certainly couldn’t amount to what had been going on here… and four years? Gohan looked down at his body. He couldn’t have been unconscious for that long… There… there really was only one other option, and even that was reaching at straws… but...

“Wh-What age is it?”

“Age 784 dear.” The old lady said as she took a spot on a chair near him.

Twenty years… Twenty years.

How?!

He was twenty years into the future…What was going on?! Gohan tried to concentrate on all of the information: There were monsters, abominations, something threatening Earth and they’ve been terrorizing the world for years. Something that even a Super Saiyajin could not defeat. There was only one fighter – and that was him, an older him, a him where he grew up in this land, fighting those creatures. That meant, his dad, Krillin, Vegeta, everybody was dead! Even Piccolo, and with Piccolo dead, the dragon balls were useless! And now, with Gohan’s other self dead… there were no fighters left for Earth. Earth was doomed…

“Oh dear, did I scare you? Maybe this is enough for the day. How about we get something to eat?” The old lady smiled. “And you may call me Lodi.” She said. There was something off about her smiles…. they never truly smiled...

Gohan gave a weak smile. “Thank you Grandmother Lodi.” He said. Something told him that he had to solve the mystery, but he didn’t know what to do. Maybe, once he was sure that Grandmother Lodi would be fine on her own, he would head home. Hopefully his mother was still alive…

.xxx.

“Trunks! So how did it go?” Bulma said as she ran out to greet her son.

Trunks smiled. “I gave Goku the medication and gave him a warning. I uh… kinda changed time a bit too much though.” Trunks said with a slight laughter. “I killed Frieza because I didn’t know Goku knew instant transmission.”

“Well, Frieza died in the end, didn’t he?” Bulma said with a smile. “But Goku will survive, and then the world will be saved. Isn’t that great?”

Trunks nodded. “Mother, do you think I can go back, on the day that the androids attack… I, I just want to make sure.”

“Hmm, well… let me see the tanks.” Bulma said as she looked at the energy levels before letting out a whistle. “It’ll take awhile to charge the machine, but I don’t see why not. Just,” Bulma said and shook a wrench at her son, “don’t go dying on me, you hear? You’re our only hope in this timeline.”

Trunk gave a sad smile. “I know that Mother, I won’t.”

“Now, I made some supper, you go on and eat it. I’ll start charging this thing right away. The sooner it starts, the sooner you can go.”

Earth’s only warrior chuckled. “Alright Mother.” He said before entering the house and walked over to the kitchen. As he walked in, a memory surged of when Gohan had told him that before - before the androids attacked - people would remove their shoes upon entering a house. People did a lot of things differently in fact. The memory made him smile, as it prompted others. Of Gohan teaching him etiquette and manners… Back then, huh?

His trip to the past had many things that he didn’t expect. He saw his father – the man whom he never got to meet, he met Goku, Krillin, all of the other fighters that Gohan had told him about. He even got to meet his young mother. There was Gohan’s mentor – Piccolo, and even Gohan himself, at the tender age of seven.

He wanted to make the world safe for that boy; he didn’t want him to grow up like he had in this time. He wanted Gohan to live a happy life, never having to fight an enemy he could never defeat over and over. He didn’t want Gohan to lose a limb and almost his sight, to lose his father, his friends, his mentor, and even his life. Then, there was his unborn self, a person yet to be. He wanted that Trunks to live in a world of freedom and peace, one where he didn’t have to look at every corner twice, one where he knew his father. He wanted his mother to live happily with his father. He wanted his father to live. And yet, all of this depended on a simple medicine and a warning. Goku was the strongest man alive, the first to achieve the state of Super Saiyajin. If he couldn’t destroy the androids…

No, Goku would, Goku could. There was no doubting that.

#truhan #trunksxgohan #trunks x gohan #mirai trunks #son gohan #petiteneko:story #gohan #trunks #dbz #fanfic:not

0 notes

thealphashadowwalker · 7 years

Text

Shadow Walker x Reader

((For fun. Has 5 decently lengthed, different stories.))

“Hm?” You blinked, looking up. There was a figure before you, you realized as your attention was taken from your cup to the new person. He was strikingly handsome, an officer still in uniform. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t actually hear you.” You blurted, trying to keep your thoughts from straying. He quirked a brow, but said nothing on that.

“I inquired as to if this seat was taken. The rest of the tables were full.” he explained, tone very curt. Though, you took no offense as he cleared his throat afterwards and quickly apologized in his baritone drawl. “That is to say, would you mind if I sat here a moment?”

You quickly nodded, lifting your hands with a gesturing action to the seat across from you. The man offered a strange smile, as if he was unfamiliar with the attempted action. He sat himself with a certain grace that only came from someone who was used to moving about could do, and was able to gently place his self into the chair without the plop you usually ended up doing.

He cradled a coffee in his leather-bound hands, eyes closing as he took a sip, looking beyond serene as he relaxed. You couldn’t help a giggle. And when he opened an eye to look at you from behind his shades, you covered your mouth. “I just... you looked like you literally melted off the stress.” You explained, turning your flushed face back to your screen to work more on your essay.

The other looked embarrassed next you looked. “Ah. I see. I... Well, I apologize for seeming so lax. Shift work... can be rather hellish.” he rubbed the back of his neck, but you waved him off with a sympathetic smile. He mirrored it briefly before looking back at his coffee.

Feeling a bit bold you cleared your throat. “Well, I mean, if it’s so hellish and this is so soothing... maybe we should come grab coffee again sometime. Have your sanity thank you for the break?” you offered. The other looked surprised, a bit of red colouring his cheeks before he offered a slight and cautious nod. “It’s a date.” you joked.

You got up and cleaned up as he struggled not to choke. You wrote your number on his napkin before heading out of the shop. “See you later, officer.” You threw over your shoulder. He’d be one hell of a date, that would be sure.

It was last minute and you knew it. Your brides-mate gown was ripped in several places, needing a resize and a colour alteration and a whole lotta love. You just happened to forget about your friend’s wedding until it was essentially a week away. Now it was three days away and you were heading all over town trying to convince someone to aid you. It was getting to be a lost cause.

‘ -’s tailor shop’ caught your eye from an alleyway. You felt nervous, but entered and approached it. ‘Shadow Stitch’s tailor shop’ the sign read. You felt a sense of foreboding, but you were downright desperate.

To your surprise, the interior was friendly. It looked like some fancy lounge, set up with mannequins with beautiful gowns and suits, mirrors on every surface with beautiful drawings colouring some. A man exited from the back room, closing a door with a mirror on it’s back, creating the illusion of a room without a door. “Greetings. What brings you here on this fine afternoon?” he queried, a gentle, implacable accent bringing a lilt to his words.

“I, er, have a dress here. My friend is getting married in three days from now, and it’s... well, it’s a mess. And I left it until last minute. I just really need to--” He raised a hand, moving forwards in elegant strides. Then he took the gown, tilting his head to look it over. Then back to you. Then he gestured with a crook of his finger to a mannequin in a back corner.

He hung the dress on the mannequin’s neck, then danced around you with eager steps and hand full of tape measure. He then turned to the mannequin, adjusting it to your size and fitting the dress over it. He tutted. “What colour should this be?” he asked.

“O-oh, lavender.” You replied, curious about this strange fellow. He trotted off, seemingly vanishing. Then he came back with a beautiful lavender fabric. He headed around the dress, with a pair of scissors, replacing the ugly yellow and pinning it. Then he pulled a needled and thread of matching colour out of a pocket, threading it and getting to work. It was amazing and you were gawking at his easy movements.

He stitched the tears, fixed the colour, and easily fitted it to the mannequin. Then he turned it around and you had to cover your mouth. It was perfect. You nodded and he grinned. He pulled it off the mannequin. “Then here you are. Consider it on the house for a first-time customer.” he offered a gentle half-bow and then headed into the back room, out of sight.

First time... He spoke like you were going to come back! ....And if you were honest, you probably would, if only to watch him work again.

The man in the corner booth seemed to be dealing with someone on the phone as you scanned the restaurant. Unfortunately, it was the only free seat. The waitress looked at you with an apologetic expression but you shrugged helplessly back and followed her. The man was hanging up as you approached, but you could clearly hear the clipped tone. “You will not call this number again.”

You and the woman approached. He looked up, glancing both of you over. You felt oddly violated, but you recovered some of your wits when his sunglass-clad gaze focused on your faces and he seemed to relax. Probably expecting someone else and being concerned. The waitress explained the situation and he waved her off, simply asking for the menus.

You sat there quietly before his voice drew you from you revere. “I do hope you do not mind the company.” He stated. Before you could question him, someone else sat beside you. A friendly looking brunette. He looked at you, then turned back to the blond fellow. “The data you spoke of?” he asked cautiously. The other man pushed over a USB. “Did they follow you?”

“If I was that dull, I would have taken up a job as a janitor. No, they didn’t. The only person who followed was Epsilon, and he needed to give me some information on one of my charges in his care. Now, you’d best leave, before--”

The door burst open with gunfire following. You were shoved under the table. People were screaming. There was a bright light before you and you closed your eyes tightly, waiting for death. Then rough, gloved hands grabbed you, dragging you from under the table and pulling you with the strange man.

“You’ve been seen with me. You’re involved now. As much as I hate to do this, you’re going to have to stay by my side.” he tossed you over his shoulder, rushing out of the building as heavy footsteps followed. “I hope you like action.” he added as a cruel joke.

You’d spend the next while with this strange man... but you couldn’t quite find it in you to care.

You had been invited by a friend to some charity gala with them. Apparently it was to celebrate a charity formed by a doctor who was creating vaccines for the infected and could purportedly bring back anyone short of death back to full health. You had to admit, it was certainly a wonderful idea. And if it was true? ...Maybe the world had someone as kind as they were smart in their midst, a full leap ahead of the rest.

You had chosen a very nice outfit, and it matched your features to make you look all the more striking. Your friend complemented you as you approached, then nudged your side. They gestured with their full glass towards a blond male speaking animatedly with another man in a fancy two-piece.

The blond looked a bit out of place, with a labcoat and safety-goggle-esque sunglasses perched on his nose. He looked so excited, and made up for his short and thin figure for his wide and flourishing movements that looked like they had practiced ease to them.

He looked rather nice, and definitely fit the bill of ‘someone who did nice things out of the goodness of their heart’. You liked him a bit more upon seeing him. Your friend seemingly knew this, nudging you to go talk to him. Even if you protested, you were already close to his side, politely waiting to speak with him.

You shifted ever so slightly, then you were sent stumbling into his arms as he turned and then spread them to catch you. You grunted in pain, looking down. Then, with wide eyes, you registered the growing bloodstain right by your heart. You coughed and felt your lips get wetter.

The scientist laid you down, taking off his sunglasses to perch on his head. “Look at me.” he commanded. “Keep your eyes on mine, okay?” You nodded, and struggled to comply. He pulled out a syringe, but woudn’t let you look at it, dragging your gaze back to his eyes. He focused on moving aside the outfit you wore so he had a direct shot to your heart. He injected and pressed down on the plunger.

Then he laced his hands with yours, straddling you and squeezing intermittently. You felt pain and tried to struggle, but he was in place and seemed heavier than he looked. Heavy enough you could barely move. You struggled, but eventually gave up, closing your eyes.

When you stirred, you were at the hospital with your friend at the scientist. “It’s a good thing you were there,” your friend was telling the other. “I doubt anyone would have survived that otherwise. ...I... can’t thank you enough.”

“I’d be a pretty shitty person if I didn’t do my best to save someone. Besides, now everyone knows it works, and your friend is alive. This will just mean more opportunities to save people.” And ever the optimist, the blond turned it around to be about helping people.

You coughed a bit, drawing their attention. “Well, I still kinda owe you. Not sure about money, but if you’re cool with getting coffee some time...” you shrugged weakly, slowly recovering.

“Oh, I’d like that a lot.” The other grinned, chuckling softly before getting up. “Get well soon. I’ll make sure you both have a way to contact me, in case of emergencies.”

And damn if he didn’t look as good leaving as he did showing up.

You woke up, unaware of what happened last night, or even where you were. You seemed to be in some sort of a tank. There were a lot of people moving around outside, but they seemed to pause as you began to move and struggle. Then the tank was draining and the cords became unhooked. You lay at the bottom, shivering, as the door opened to the cool and sterile air of the lab.

A man approached in black, covering you and lifting your body from the tank. “You’re dismissed.” He told the other lab-coats sharply, taking you to an examination table. Everything was done quickly, and you struggled to recall what happened.

“Things are going well. Proper bonding, advanced mutations... You’re showing promise already.” he smirked back at you. Then it faltered into a glare. “What? What are you looking at me like that for?” he snapped, and you recoiled a bit.

You shook your head. “I... Don’t remember.” you stated. He looked irritable, then. “I... I mean, I vaguely remember things from my past, but I don’t know what happened... before I ended up here. What happened before... yesterday, was it?”

The figure sighed, sitting on the edge of the desk. “You probably went about your day as you usually would have, with the exception of that day being your friend’s birthday, so you told the bartender. You both decided to go out to a new bar that opened, and got a bit more than intoxicated. You intended to leave alone and walk home to sleep the booze off, but you were accosted by a group of five drunkards.

“They tried to solicit you for sex, and when you refused, attempted to rape you. You and your friend fought, but there was little point. They were armed and dangerously stupid. Your friend pretended to be into it, but took one of their guns and shot one of them. Then one of his friends shot your friend. They turned on you, intending on raping or killing.

“I myself happened to be walking by when I noticed the group. I dispatched them, but they had wounded you in their efforts. You were dying as retrieved you and brought you here. I managed to revive you, but you were very close to death. So much so, I was forced to utilize one of the few samples I had left of the virus Uroboros. Lucky for you, it was a complete match.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So, what am I, some science experiement?” you demanded, a bit irritable as your mind worked on piecing together the information to try to pull your memories together.

His eyes, however, lit up with a hellfire glow. “Oh no, my dear... You are so, so much more to me.” he purred.

From that moment on, you knew you were stuck with this crazed weirdo in his underground laboratory. You wished it bothered you more than it seemed to.

#A Scrawling #((I already did it for the regular))#((I felt it wouldn't be right to leave it there))#((Needed to let my muses had some fun))#reader insert #((Reader can be any gender))#((Just the dress would be for a reverse wedding))#((Females wear tuxedos and men wear dresses))#((It works either way.))

1 note · View note