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perse-persecution · 3 years

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more dream smp skin symbolism

I can go on and on about this, and so I will! I’ve already talked about how Tommy, Sam, Dream, and Quackity have skins that highlight who they are, especially in the prison. But it’s not just them that have this, it’s almost everyone in the SMP!

Some characters have stayed fully human throughout the SMP, never gaining wings or scars or anything that was permanent, like Tommy or Tubbo, or even Niki, really. There are others too! (Tubbo really was just hurt emotionally, he stayed human even though he made bad choices, and never really went too far[I’m counting Ghostbur as a human even though he was see-through because it’s Ghostbur. His skin is a ghost.]) And some characters have inhuman traits like wings (this is only Phil but y’know) or horns, or they just don’t have any human attributes on them except for their faces.

And some just have glasses that hide their faces, or roses that change color. Or a mask!

Niki- You might call me out, saying that ‘Niki wanted to murder Tommy with Jack and has no inhuman traits, so your idea is flawed!’ but Niki got over it. Niki is baking again, Jack burned his house down. Niki may not be Tommy, but she’s never gained horns or covered her face.

Jack- Jack has his headset and that comes with glasses, and that hides his eyes. That’s what makes him inhuman to me, and we never see his eyes. He’s always hidden from everyone, even slightly, and he’s not human. His response to Tommy’s death is great and very human, celebrating and then realizing it really wasn’t what he wanted-but then again, he still clawed his way back from hell through pure spite and anger. That is not human.

Eret- Eret has glasses as well, hiding their face, and that plays well into the ‘never meant to be’ bit, but might not work in the long run, but it still does! Eret is still lost in the past, really, trying to make up for it. He’s built a museum and wrote books upon books and apologized so many times, but the glasses are her way of keeping the betrayal with them, always reminding them of the fact. They aren’t human, they’re still trying to make up for battles long gone through keeping the past from being long-gone, and such they are the past.

Hannah- Hannah definitely isn’t human, the roses on her arms changing colors and being attached to her being the main reasons why, though there is still some symbolism even with that. With the Egg, Hannah tried to fix the egg with roses, taking stacks and stacks with her. She tried to give them to it, and was trapped in a hole. The symbolism here is that Hannah uses nature to fix her problems, and fixes the nature that’s wrong (fixing the server!!) and adds to it in ways that pleases her (all the red roses). She tries to fix everything with them, and when they all turn against her she goes with them into the Egg’s control.

Badboyhalo- The devil skin is a bit literal, considering the events of the Egg, but it still works before that too! Bad’s always been the ‘devil’ to Tommy and maybe Quackity I guess, shouting at them when they curse and never playing into some bits. But when the Egg takes control, the red accents on his skin turn white, and that shows that he feels like he’s doing the right thing, that it’s all to help Skeppy, but the devil skin shows that’s it’s not, and he’s the real devil here.

Skeppy- Speaking of Skeppy, he’s always been just a diamond with a derpy face, and that sums up everything that Skeppy did before the Egg perfectly. He’s bright and pretty sharp, in some ways, but but still hilarious and comedic to a fault. Diamond with a derpy face. But then the egg came along, and one, changed his skin from blue to red, and two, got rid of the highlights that made the diamond itself pop. There’s much, much more red on him that any of the server members, Ant, Ponk, and Punz just getting red eyes, and Bad having none at all, the red on him turning white. It makes sense for Skeppy, the one with the most red, to be the most under the Egg’s control, and for Bad, who has no red, to be angry at Skeppy, later, for spending so much time with it. But the highlight removal made Skeppy look just like the Egg. Made him pretty much just fade into it, become one with it. The derpy face is still there, though, symbolizing Bad’s hope for the blue Skeppy to come back, though the rest of Skeppy seems to symbolize the opposite.

Technoblade- Techno has always been an anarchist in royals garb, and throughout everything on the server it shows that he has one goal (anarchy) and he will do everything to get it, even be used as a tool and ‘just as the blade’ (the Red Banquet) (also being in royals garb). He’s inhuman because though he has had character development, from mocking Quackity at his execution setup even though it was, like, his execution setup, to complimenting Sam on the prison, even though he knew it was a trap. Even though he claims to be closed off, he’s become such great friends with Ranboo and cares too much about Carl and his wolves than he says he does. He calls Dream a sentimentalist, but even though he knew he would be getting out of the prison, he still gave hope to Dream by means of the toilet. That shows another part of his inhuman-ness. He’s a pig. Pigs are friendly, sensitive, and intelligent, according to Google, and this fits Techno well. He tries to give hope to Dream, was friends with Tommy, is friends with Phil, Ranboo, and Niki, and that goes into the next bit. Sensitive. Technoblade is very sensitive to being used just as the blade, and it goes vice versa as well. He was genuinely touched when the Syndicate through him a birthday party and Ranboo gave him the new axe to replace his last one. He’s also very intelligent, using a Totem to get out of death and collecting mass amounts of withers ‘just for decoration...for now’.

Ranboo- Ranboo is pretty easy, like c’mon. Enderwalk and Ranboo, the white side and the black side. Easy. BUT WAIT. THERE’S MORE. The white side is more commonly as the friendly side (even though enderwalk is just Ranboo with different motivations) and yet the white side has a red eye, a color that literally gets people riled up. It shows that even when Ranboo is not in Enderwalk, he’s not happy-go-lucky. There’s something dangerous with him, and Wilbur picked up on this! He didn’t want to talk to Ranboo, comparing him to ‘the weird neighbor kid’ who ‘had something in his basement’ and was ‘going to put a spatula right through my skull!’. There’s something off about Ranboo even when he’s not Enderwalking, and that’s shown by his red eye and what people like to refer to as tear scars on that side of his face (even though the enderman side would be the one burned by it) But speaking of Enderwalk, the black side has a green eye, Tubbo’s color, and the color that is used as friendship a lot. It shows that, for Ranboo, Enderwalk isn’t some evil being, he isn’t plotting to kill people, he might be meeting with Dream, but so was Techno! And he’s not inherently evil. And Wilbur adores Dream! And Ranboo stated that he wasn’t inherently evil. Enderwalk is just Ranboo with different motivations. He was Enderwalking through the whole Disc War finale, holding his fourth book, but made no move to help Dream-but he made no move to help Tommy and Tubbo. (Enderchest was also in Dream’s possession vault, so Ranboo obviously wasn’t fully trustworthy to Dream) He stared up at Dream as he rose to go to prison, but that was it. And Enderwalk Ranboo was also at the Banquet! He was holding an axe at some point (maybe when the lava came down, I can’t remember) but he never interfered. He was just up on the balcony. Ranboo wouldn’t interfere either, he’d be to scared too, he’s a people pleaser. Techno, Quackity, and Purpled aren’t. Enderwalk isn’t Ranboo in what he does, as Ranboo doesn’t really remember it, but they are the same in their reasonings and how and when they would do something.

Phil- Phil had wings in the first moments when he joined the server, and then protected Wilbur with them and so they were damaged. Phil had a very warped idea of what had gone on before he came through Wilburs lies, and I feel his inhuman-ness spans from that, and the fact the he kept that warped idea and went too far with it. He thought that Wilbur didn’t want L’manburg to exist, because he thought that Wilbur won the election, and so even after he was dead, and after the whole Butcher Army, Phil’s instinct (as well as Techno’s) was to just blow it up, get rid of it, because that was what his son wanted and it would send a message to the people. He said himself, to Jack, that he started blowing up countries when he was forced to kill his own son, but he could have stepped away there, because Wilbur really wasn’t the constant in the situation. Wilbur hadn’t chosen to blow up the country because he didn’t like it anymore, he was going to blow it up because Schlatt ruined it for him, and that Phil didn’t understand. That’s why he’s inhuman, since he chose to kill Wilbur, he wasn’t forced. Phil’s gone against peer pressure and orders before when he saw that they were wrong, and that was also by a relative, Fundy. He loopholed his way out of house arrest, he could have jumped away from Wilbur, or just put him in stone so he wouldn’t die. He’s inhuman because he made choices that were because of events that didn’t exist, because he was living in an alternate world, really.

Wilbur- Wilbur doesn’t have inhuman features. A clear face, no scars, and a beanie. His jacket and morals have rotted in the dark, but he’s still pretty human, though his opinions on Dream and L’manburg change every second. The white streak in his hair is supposed to represent stress, I think, and well, it’s Wilbur. He made a fancy revolutionary outfit and never washed it once, because he was too devoted to L’manburg to let go of it, or anything connected to it, for a single second. Then came Pogtopia, where he ditched everything in favor of clothes that blended in with the cave walls. He insulted the revolutionary outfit, and kept the trench coat until he died. Then, Revivebur had the bandage across his arm because he ran to the train too fast, showing how desperate Wilbur was to get out from death. He’s changed so much, and his changes are real, unlike Dream’s, as Dream has kept the same skin, but Wilbur hasn’t. He’s changed physically, and has gotten more and more torn outfits every time.

Ponk- He has a face mask that hides everything but his eyes, and I feel that shows his way of making sure you never know if he’s joking about something or not. He joked about how much time Sam spent with him, even though Sam hated the egg, and still tried to keep a keycard even after Sam was going to chop of his arm (and did so) for them. He has a chaotic nature to everyone, trying to prank Foolish right now and wearing red contacts only so the Eggpire would leave him alone. He made a Road Trip joke as his toast at the Banquet, and it was totally in character! His mouth being hidden makes it so that he can be joking and you’ll never see it coming.

Schlatt- The-the guy has horns. He’s a goat. Loud, (the EMPEROR of the GREAT NATION) cross eyed, (Schlatt is drunk for his introduction and his death, he is totally cross eyed). I’ve also seen people put him down as a ram, and that reckless ‘they want me to get them president, I’ll be my OWN president!’ and then tearing down the walls, executing Wilbur and Tommy, things that were so surprising and came out of nowhere they just about-they jus-they just rammed into us head on! He’s inhuman because he wants to be powerful (the BIg Man Gym) and wants to use the people around him to show his power, and is so reliant on them that he has no power at all.

Fundy- He’s a fox, and ha been compared as a ‘backbiter’ and ‘foxheart’ many times, and while those are viable ways to go, other parts on his skin, earlier, show some other things. In L’manburg, Fundy was the only person who had a different outfit from the others (at that time) and didn’t get any position in L’manburg at the end of the war, just being called Wilbur’s ‘little champion’. He had a crayon suit, and wasn’t respected by Wilbur at all, and when Schlatt came along and finally seemed to recognize him as someone who was valuable, Fundy shed the revolutionary garb quick, burning and building and leaving Niki quick as well. He might not be constantly switching his skin, like Wilbur, but after L’maburg he never was on aside for long enough to get a uniform other than L’manburg, his regular skin, and the aprons for the Butcher Army. He’s a fox that switches boat, and that makes him inhuman because everyone else is firmly on a side, against sides as a whole, or the thing everyone hates and is on his own side (Which is Dream).

Karl- Karl is very human, as he has a funky sweater and a normal human skin. But that skin changes when he gets back from time travelling, and when he is in the Tales. He’s like a chameleon, his skin fitting the environment in the Tales and the Inbetween, but the important bit is that when he gets back to the present he’s a very bright, multicolored blob. In the Inbetween he has an all white skin, in the Other Side it’s all black, and in the Masquerade specifically he kept to blues and purples, I think, as those were the colors his mask was. Him being a chameleon in the Tales also fits well with how he just fits right into the story, like an added fisherman, or a cameraman, or just another guest-the only ones he doesn’t fit in with are the ones that are closely tied with the real present. The Haunted mansion had Connor and Glatt in it, and Karl really just interrupted their fun. In The City That Went Mad, Karl was the narrator, and The City That Went Mad has been mentioned SO many times, Quackity being a descended from Helga and Ponk being descended from Jack the potato farmer. In the present, Karl stayed with Schlatt through the Pogtopia era after being the judge of the debate, and I have no idea why other than because he didn’t know what to do.

Purpled- Purpled is pretty much implied to be an alien, but for all skin measures he looks perfectly human, ignoring that everything he wears, and his eye color, is purple. I like Purpled, and the fact that he switched sides the same way Punz did, and used almost the same words Punz did, but he’s still so much different and more human? In a way? Than Punz, in how he reacts to being called a hero by Foolish, or joining Pogtopia the second he was going to be killed, since Manburg didn’t line up to his ideals anyways. Purpled isn’t the hero, he’s really just a background character for most of the lore, coming up a couple of times, but he’s not really too important, and he and Quackity know this, Quackity used it against him to try and get him to join Las Nevadas! He tries his best to be a hero and always falls short, not being able to save Foolish, having to join Las Nevadas, and that’s what makes him inhuman, because he’s trying. He tries his best to be the good guy, unlike Tommy, really, right now. Tommy knew breaking into the prison to kill Dream wasn’t the right thing to do, he said it himself! Tommy said he didn’t want to be a hero in response to Techno, but he’s still the protagonist. Purpled is trying, and we’re starting now to see that in full, and see how inhuman he really is because it’s not paying off.

Punz- Punz is like Purpled, until he’s not. He was hired to Manburg to fight for Schlatt and he did! He did fight for Schlatt, and had no qualms with it. He betrayed Dream to help Tommy and Tubbo, and then joined the Egg. He’s not the most human character, despite looking it, and he’s quite inhuman in the fact that he’s never been the hero. He was bribed by Tommy to help give him pearls and blaze rods in the first disc skirmish, and now was bribed to save them from Dream one last time! Punz wouldn’t do that if Tommy hadn’t given him money, he would have stayed neutral, and I feel that shows his inhuman-ness.

I’ll be doing Puffy, Connor, Calahan (maybe), Alyssa (maybe), Antfrost, and others as well as some more analyses soon!

#dsmp #c!karl #c!punz #c!purpled #c!philza #c!ponk #c!schlatt #c!hannah #c!ranboo #c!wilbur #c!techno #c!skeppy #c!badboyhalo #c!jack manifold #c!niki #c!fundy #c!eret #rambles

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daddyjackfrost · 3 years

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The Gods- small drabbles pt 4 (Athena)

warnings: *mention of rape*, victim blame

‘A girl sat in a dimly lit cave on the outskirts of Libya. The stone walls were adorned with art from around the world. Statues littered across the entrance and the sides of the cave. Torches made of Hestia’s hearth littered the cave.

The girl sat on cushioned rocks, quite used to the numb feeling the stone had to offer.

Stheno and Euryale’s statues stood proud, right in front of the girl. She had asked if those were actually her sisters, and Medusa had only shaken her head, replying, “No, dear. They faded away a long time ago. I made these out of memory.”

Medusa, sat in front of the girl, a cup of tea in her hands. The Gorgon’s posture was relaxed, a rare sight.

The girl observed her friend. Medusa’s skin glistened with a sheen of green, matching the head of snakes that quietly watched the girl. Even as a monster, the girl thought Medusa was beautiful. Medusa’s large wings were gently tucked behind her back. Glasses made of stone sat on Medusa’s nose. She had made them for when the girl visited her. How terrible would it be if she turned her only friend to stone?

The girl cleared her throat, catching the attention of the Gorgon. “Medusa, may I ask you a question?”

The centuries-old Gorgon smiled, stretching muscles she rarely used, and showed her slight sharpened teeth.

“You may ask me two.”

The girl’s lips tipped upwards when she heard the slight husk and hiss of Medusa’s voice. It didn’t matter how many years she had heard her voice, it still sent shivers down her spine.

“I apologize if I anger you, but I need to know.” The girl took a small pause, letting Medusa register her words. “What exactly had happened after Athena had found you and Poseidon?”

The Gorgon inhaled a sharp breath. More than half the snakes on her head hissed at the girl for causing their mistress distress. The girl just sat still, keeping her composure. She didn’t want to trigger any unwanted feelings for Medusa but she needed to know Athena’s part.

Medusa leaned forward in her seat, clutching the cup in her hand tighter. Her long talon-like nails scraped the cup, adding to the scratches that had gathered over the centuries. Medusa was not surprised at the question her mortal friend had asked her.

The girl was always so curious. Drinking up any information she could receive. Especially if it had to do with the Olympian Gods. Monsters and deities all alike had learned of the girl’s keen attention on gaining any leverage she could find. In a world where everything was controlled by a God, knowledge was the only thing the girl had as a weapon.

The girl leaned back in her chair, trying to hide her smile. She was going around the Greek list of deities. She had promised herself she would take apart God by God until they were nothing but their flaws, and that is exactly what she will do. She had already torn apart Aphrodite, and she felt nothing but content that she did.

The Goddess of passion and love had not left her temple in days. According to Ares, she was in ‘deep thought.’ The girl knew she had caused a break in the front Aphrodite had created, and she could not have been more proud. The Goddess had caused her much pain, and now the mortal was returning the favor.

“Why do you ask?”

The hiss of her words had come out much more tauntingly. Medusa knew of the girl’s plan, and she supported the silly mortal with her entire being. Medusa wanted to see nothing more than the Gods who had caused her so much suffering to feel pain. She wanted them ruined. Medusa wanted to see Athena and Poseidon suffer. She wanted to violate Poseidon in ways she had dreamed of. She wanted to pick every hair off of Athena’s scalp, smiling as the Goddess withered in pain.

The girl shrugged. She swirled the liquid in her cup mindlessly. She knew she was alone here, safe, yet she would be a fool not to be cautious. The Gods were sly beings.

“You know why.”

Medusa grinned. It was sadistic and filled with promise. The girl smiled and leaned forward, ready to take in every word the Gorgon had to offer.

She would use Medusa’s words against Athena and make the Goddess spiral. The girl had an idea of Athena’s personality. The Goddess would, as smart as she was, not be able to see her demise coming.

Medusa reached up and petted some of the snakes that had remained quiet. Small hisses filled the air and Medusa sucked in a deep breath. It had been some time since she had vividly recalled that horrid day. Medusa remembered how she called out to Athena. Begged the Goddess for aid and forgiveness.

“It was a bright day. I was alone in the temple, tending to all my responsibilities.” Medusa wet her green, chapped lips. “He came out of nowhere. If it weren’t for the look in his eyes, I would have thought I had a chance at fighting back.”

The girl listened attentively. Besides the information, she wanted her friend to talk about what had happened. The girl knew, better than others, how it felt to keep things quiet. She couldn’t even imagine how Medusa had felt all these millennial's.

***

The girl walked with a skip in her step. Not only had she got to visit Hades, but she was on her way to destroy another God.

Mount Olympus slightly shook under the weight of the girl’s intentions. The mountain seemed to know exactly what the girl had come to do, and it couldn’t stop her. Not when she commanded it. The mountain didn’t warn the Gods, because it too had gotten sick of the deities.

The girl walked with her head up and her shoulders back. She walked with no hesitation because she knew that in the world of Olympians and deities, everything that fell under the second category stood with her.

The girl stood in front of Athena’s temple. A beautiful structure made of marble stood before her. The girl didn’t get any time to fully appreciate the temple, because Athena had already called her to enter.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The girl walked right into the center of the temple. Walls of books aligned the walls. Ancient Greek weapons were all polished, spread across the marble walls.

Athena’s back was to the girl. As expected. The Goddess wore a traditional white cloth with a belt made of pure Olympian treasure.

Athena turned around and the girl’s eyes widened and her lips parted in awe. She would never get over the Goddess’s eyes. They were pools of an oncoming storm, diminutive and vindictive, keen but pleasant. They were always calculating, and the girl always felt scrutinized under the Goddess’s gaze.

The girl straightened her shoulders, smoothing out her sundress. She was here to talk to Athena, and that’s what she was going to do.

“I came to talk to you.” Athena smiled at the girl. The smile was soft, inviting. “I actually wanted to tell you a story.”

At this, Athena raised her eyebrows. Athena and the girl had a nice relationship, that was before the girl found out the Goddess was involved in her family’s murder. Both women used to exchange stories.

Athena nodded and motioned for the girl to sit. The girl sat across from Athena, chin up and her posture relaxed. She had to play her cards right. She had to make sure she lured Athena in, and then used her lack of compassion to get her to spiral.

The Goddess sat, poised and with perfection. She had chosen to wear more traditional clothing, instead of her regular armor. She was glad the girl had stopped by. It had been too long since she had gotten to speak with the mortal woman.

“Now,” Athena snapped her fingers, and two cups of Ambrosia and mortal delights appeared on the table. “This story?”

The girl smiled. “Right, yes. Well, it is a story, but I’m telling you this because I would like to know about your opinion.”

Athena brought a small Belgium chocolate to her lips. “A mortal story?”

The girl nodded but internally shook her head. A fool is what the Goddess was. Could she not see the turmoil behind the girl’s eyes? The pure malice that shined in her eyes and behind every action? Could the Goddess of wisdom not understand how unwise it was to let the girl speak? Did she not get a warning from Aphrodite?

The girl leaned back and laced her fingers together. “This is a story of a woman who was wronged by those she trusted.”

Athena’s eyes shined as she leaned forward, intrigued already. “Is there something to solve at the end?”

The girl contemplated for a moment. Solve? Not entirely. But there was the question of right and wrong, and she would make sure Athena answered.

“Not entirely, but there is a question I would like to ask at the end.”

Athena nodded and waved for the girl to continue.

“Long ago, a woman took in one girl. This girl needed guidance, shelter, and food, and the woman wanted to protect her.”

“Is this the concept of adoption?”

The girl nodded. “Yes, like you raised Erichtonius.”

Athena nodded, understanding. The girl needed a concept that was close enough to Medusa’s case but did not raise any red flags for the Goddess.

“Now this girl, she was beautiful, but she was loyal to her woman. She did whatever she could do to serve the woman who protected her well. One day, however, the woman’s uncle came to visit. He had heard of this girl his niece had taken in and come to see her for himself.”

The girl watched as Athena took in her words greedily. Once Athena knew there was a question to answer, she wanted to make sure she answered correctly.

“The woman went to the market, and in the meantime, the uncle approached the girl. Now, she wasn’t a child, but it was still wrong. The girl fought, called out to her woman, but the man was stronger. He violated the girl’s virgin body in the house she had deemed her safe haven.”

The girl watched as Athena’s eyebrows furrowed and how she slowly straightened up. This is the moment of truth, the girl thought.

Athena frowned a bit. “The girl let herself lose her virginity?”

The girl’s blood boiled. She clenched her fists, her nails piercing the skin of her palm. This is why Athena had never been a Goddess for the women. Why she was loathed by all women alike. The girl couldn’t understand how the Goddess of law and justice could be so unjust.

“Do not interrupt me,” The girl sneered. The Goddess’s eyes lit with fire at the disrespect but she said nothing. Athena would have turned the girl into a dagger, but she couldn’t, and that made the Goddess angry.

“The woman came home to the sight of her girl no longer a virgin. She didn’t spare her uncle a glance and chose to punish the girl. She turned the girl away.”

The girl leaned back and tilted her head, sizing down the Goddess. “My question for you, Athena, is, was it just for the woman to punish the girl?”

The girl wished she could have taken a photo of Athena’s confused face. She knew Apollo would have enjoyed the look of bewilderment on his sister’s face, but Apollo wasn’t here.

“The woman turned away the girl, correct?” The girl nodded, interested to see how Athena would respond.

“It’s simple then. The woman turned away the girl to protect her from the uncle.”

The girl nodded, expecting as much. “Turning her away seems reasonable, correct.”

Athena opened her mouth to speak, but the girl slammed her hand down on the table, causing the Goddess to flinch.

“Tell me then, Athena, why you could not do the same. Tell me why you chose to curse Medusa to a life of misery. Was her rape not enough punishment?”

The Goddess’s eyes lit up and a scowl overtook her once peaceful face. “Tread very carefully, mortal.”

The girl smirked and crossed her arms. “Answer me, Athena.”

The Goddess would not back down, she was too proud for that. “I cursed Medusa to protect her.”

The girl leaned back in her chair. She could see how flustered the Goddess was becoming. Athena was not used to being questioned.

“Do you know what I think, Athena? Well, I’ll tell you.” The girl smiled a smile so threatening and full of promise that Athena felt a prickle of nervousness.

“I think you cursed Medusa out of jealousy. Medusa sought your counsel, and yet you cursed her. Medusa originally promised herself to you, but her promise to you came undone when Poseidon raped her. One of the staples of being an Olympian god's mate was that once claimed, they were bound to be mates forever. Isn’t that right, Athena?” Athena nodded once. Her grey eyes blazed like a storm.

“You felt betrayed by Medusa since Poseidon claimed her, even though Medusa promised herself to you. In turn, Athena, you would feel inclined to lash out in anger against Medusa for this development.”

Athena shook her head furiously. Athena had not thought about Medusa in eons, and this mortal girl was making her question everything.

“What is it, Athena? Are you so out of your emotions that you can’t even admit it?”

Athena furiously bellowed, causing the temple to shake. “You watch your mouth, mortal.”

The girl smiled. “Or what? Will you turn me into a monster? Or a spider?”

“Face it, Athena. There’s a reason you’re not liked by many women. Not like Artemis is. Don’t you wonder why that is? You’ve always favored men over women, haven’t you? Isn’t that why you sent Perseus after Medusa? Did you hate the Gorgon so much? Was jealousy that overwhelming for you? What was it, Athena? Was it Medusa’s hair? Was it the fact that people came to see her and not you?”

Athena felt spiraled. She had never been disrespected like this. The girl was opening old wounds and it was causing the Goddess to think emotionally. The girl had figured out Athena. The Goddess lacked compassion, she was too ruled by intellect, the Goddess was too out of touch was her emotions, and she was not immune to envy and prone to quick, brutal vengeance.

“If not Medusa, let’s talk about Arachne. You remember her, don’t you? Granted, she should not have challenged you, but I heard from a little spider that you were enraged that her tapestry was perfect, while yours was not.”

Athena didn’t speak. She couldn’t fathom coherent thought. The girl had ripped apart any logic that had grounded the Goddess for centuries. Athena hadn’t been in a situation where her intelligence had been questioned, or where she felt that painful pull in her chest.

The girl pushed her chair back and stood up, she could see the unrest in Athena’s eyes.

“I...I have always done what I believed was right.”

The girl looked down at the Goddess. The girl had never felt so powerful. To look down on such a proud Goddess was a moment the girl was sure she would never get to experience again. Athena’s eyes were wide and swirled with uncertainty. It was an amusing sight.

“You’re a God, Athena.” The girl took a few steps and then paused. She turned her head back slightly, seeing Athena’s hunched figure from the corner of her eye.

“You have no morality. No judgment of right or wrong.”

The girl walked out of the temple, leaving Athena behind. She could feel the temple walls and grounds shake. Athena was angry, except she hadn’t the slightest clue at what.

Grinning like Dionysus after some wine, the girl walked down the path from Athena’s temple. She had pushed Athena away from intelligence, questioned her wisdom, and forced her to feel something. She couldn’t have done anything else. Athena was too proud and confident in her actions. She had supported all the heroes and resulted in vengeance too quickly.

The only two small pressure points the girl had were Medusa and Arachne, and now she had used them.

As the girl walked, Hestia watched from afar. She had felt it when the girl arrived and from the glint in her eyes, she knew the girl had chosen her next victim.

Hestia’s eyes narrowed at Athena’s temple. She could see the fumes that they released, and she understood what had happened.

Hestia watched as the girl began to skip down towards her. The Goddess crossed her arms and patiently waited for the girl.

“Hestia.” The girl stopped, stared.

Hestia smiled at the girl, though it was small and accusing. “What have you done now, girl?”

The girl just shrugged, her lips curled up in a wicked smile. “What I promised to do.”

Hestia dropped her arms with a sigh. She began to walk, motioning for the girl to follow. Both women walked side by side, towards Hestia’s hearth.

“How did you do it?”

The girl pursed her lips. She knew she could tell Hestia, she just didn’t trust the location. Anyone could have been listening, and she did not need Zeus’s keen eyes on her.

More than they already were.

“It was quite easy, actually.” The girl responded. When Hestia said nothing, the girl continued. “You all have your traits. Athena, for example, was too ruled by intellect, which was her downfall.”

Hestia slightly nodded. The Goddess was disturbed by the girl's success but also amazed. She was the one who had implanted the idea to go after the Gods, she, however, did not expect the girl to do so well.

“Careful, girl. You may have broken Aphrodite and Athena, but you have a tough road ahead of you. Know your enemies and keep them close.”

The girl nodded. She knew all of this already. “I’ll be fine.”

“You seem confident.”

The girl sighed, except this one was different. It was one of tiredness and sorrow. Hestia recognized this sigh. She had, after all, heard it for almost two centuries now.

“When you can’t die, not even by the Gods, you pick up some confidence.”

•

- a small drabble from a book i have yet to write

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @mayplesyrup @demigod-groupchat @wolfies-love-reading-too

@addicedtoeverythinganime

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arsonistvoyager · 4 years

Text

A Jedi for a Clone ; Captain Rex x Reader

PART 2 HERE

pairing: Rex x Reader

Summary: Imagine you're Pong Krells former padawan, now freshly knighted jedi, and you feel hatred towards the clones, especially the 501st, and you get put on a mission with Anakin. The clones are all a little scared to get close to you but also feel a little guilty (because they're angels) since you saw Krell when he was still a good jedi and they feel like they took your parental figure. But then the more time you spend with them you realize what your master actually did

a/n: this is pretty much my first time writing anything remotely star wars x reader so whoever comes across this bear with me. i’m a stupid little beginner lol.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Yes, General, we expect the shuttle to arrive within the next 10 to 20 minutes.”

Anakin nodded as he looked over the cliffs that the 501st had set their temporary camp up on.

Arami was a planet located on the outer rim, not far from where Anakin had grown up, meaning barely outside of Hutt Space.

It had not been long since separatist forces had invaded the sparsely populated planet and had begun to enslave its population – doing so right under the republics eyes. To provocate them into a fight, Anakin had thought when the council had brought up the news of yet another separatist invasion. To make it seem like the Republic was illegally occupying neutral worlds and forcing them onto their side.

Anakin had known it was a set up from the very beginning, but the council had insisted that he take care of the problem. To be more specific, the council had sent Obi-Wan to give Anakin the orders, knowing of the connection the former padawan and master had and how Anakin was less likely to refuse the mission if it came from his almost-father figure.

And of course Anakin did want to refuse. He despised being anywhere near Hutt-Space, more specifically, his old home world of Tatooine. Too many bad memories were connected to that place. In the end he reluctantly accepted. It would be a quick mission. The seperatists had supposedly not sent many of their droid forces. An easy task for the Jedi General. And it may or may not have been his deeply rooted hatred for the slave business that convinced him to take on this mission.

As he looked over the cliffs near the coasts of an Arami ocean he had to admit the planet was barely anything like the sandy, vast, emptiness of Tatooine. If he closed his eyes and listened to the clash of waves he could almost pretend to be on the beautiful idyllic plateaus of Naboo, nobody but a certain senator by his side.

The only thing ruining the beautiful scenery inside his head were the excited and anxious chatter of his men, his troopers, behind him. The council had sent Anakin and the five-oh-first without any aerial star destroyer support. Not even the senate, nor chancellor Palpatine had been notified of the decision. It was supposed to be a quiet secret between them and the Arami people they would rescue.

The only other person assigned to the mission was another Jedi General. A senior padawan that had been knighted only months ago and Anakin and his men were about to meet her.

Formerly Commander now General (Y/N) (L/N) had made a name for herself within the last two years of the war, not only by rising up in ranks and in the favor of many High Jedi of the Jedi Council but also in her skill of many force techniques and abilities as well as the success rate of her missions.

Many civilians knew of her as a saviour, many jedi knew her as one of the top notch generals of the outer rim. The clones however would only know her under one name. Master Pong Krells Padawan.

The shuttle had barely exited hyperspace and reached the Arami system when whispered rumors circulated around Anakins men.“Krells Padawan. She’s really coming.”

“Do you think she’s bringing a clone battalion with her?” “Nah I heard she doesn’t work with clones. Not ever since...Umbara, y’know.” “I heard she used to command several troops until she heard the news of the Generals death. I’ve heard she...slaughtered her own men in a fit of rage.” “Banthashit! Don’t listen to all the rumors you hear in 79’s, Echo.” “I swear it’s true!” “Did you guys know she wields two lightsabers?” Anakin could not block their voices out, as much as he tried. The force surrounding his men was practically shaking with their insecurity. He hated that they felt that way. And he hated himself for not being on Umbara when it happened to help his men. He regretted leaving his men in the care of that psychopath in the first place. But how should he have known? The regret clawed its way into his mind anyway.

As for General (L/N)...She was not an unfamiliar face to him. In fact, because she was not far from his age, the two of them had often been in meditation and intergalactic geography classes together, as younglings. She had been nice to him. Helped him once with one of the questions when Master Mundi had asked him about the surface of Mon Cala and he had been too occupied with his daydream to realize he had been called upon. After whispering a quick “thanks” she had giggled in response, before focusing her attention back onto the Jedi Master. That was before Obi-Wan took him on his first mission, followed up by many more. As a result Anakin spent much less time with the other younglings. Maybe he had seen her once or twice in the halls of the Jedi Temple, Anakin could not recall it. Had Master Krell been by her side? He didn’t know either.

When Anakin had consoled his men after the nightmares of Umbara he had been more than surprised that many of the clones, Rex included, felt horrible for what they had done to the Jedi Master. Anakin at the time had thought it was due to their extensive training on Kamino, where they learned to obey their Generals under any circumstances. Only later had he found out someone had gone to his men and told them all about Pong Krell, his devotion to the Jedi Order and his kindness towards his fellow Jedi.

And of course, about his very young Padawan.

Anakin had wanted to console her as well, had wanted to check up on her to make sure she was alright after the horrible news reached him. He knew very well the feeling of guilt about not being able to do something about the death of someone beloved and how the darkness would very easily latch onto that feeling and devour it. The council forbade him to act.

Instead they sent him on another mission – far from Umbara – a small planet in the mid rim. Simple humanitarian acts. The council had probably thought they showed mercy and compassion. Bantha shit.

The young General turned around as he received a message on his comlink. A trooper signaled him that the shuttle would land shortly. Anakin thanked him and started walking towards the landing area they had cleared up. As he walked past his men he noticed how they tensed up and muted. As if their earlier “whispers” hadn’t been loud enough for the entire system to hear. He sighed and regarded them with an empathetic gaze before he made his way to the front. He hoped they knew what he meant by that. He understood their fears.

The shuttle had settled on the ground and Anakin and several of his troopers watched as the ships ramp rolled out. Seconds later a figure emerged from the bright lights of the ships. There she stood, General (L/N), clad in dark jedi robes. She took less than a second to inspect her surroundings, looking the clones right into their eyes before her gaze fell upon the fellow Jedi General. With a strong, confident walk and a serious, stern expression she stepped down the ramp and made her way to Anakin, ignoring the soldiers saluting her arrival. --- You felt the clones’ nervousness in the force the moment the ship had touched Arami grounds. Good. They should fear you. They should shake underneath their bright white armor.

Blue. They had chosen blue to paint their generic armor. A pathetic attempt at individuality. Red would have been more fitting in your opinion. Had Master Krells red blood spilled on their neatly painted armor when they murdered him in cold blood? You had asked yourself the question numerous times. It still haunted you.

Dozens of eyes fell on you and you resisted the urge to shoot them a glare, deadlier than the two blue lightsabers attached to your hips. The council had sent you of all people on this idiotic mission. And you knew you had more important missions to attend to – in the calmness and familiarity of your own presence. Not surrounded by mindless clones. The killers of the kindest man you had known in your life, nonetheless.

“General (L/N)”, Skywalkers voice sounded. “It’s a pleasure to have someone as talented as you here with me.”

You knew of Anakin Skywalker. The golden boy of the galactic war. In fact, you had idolized him before Umbara had happened. Of course you knew he had nothing to do with what had happened, as he had been deployed elsewhere at the time, just like you yourself had been. B ut the fact that he continued to work with jedi-killers had shocked you. How was he able to live with these men that had killed one of you?

“As it is for me, General Skywalker.”, you finally answered, taking the hand he had reached out to you and shaking it firmly. “My deepest and sincerest apologies for what happened to Master Krell.” Oh no. “I want you to know that I-” You didn’t give him the chance to continue what he had intended to say. No – you did not need his empty words of pity.

“General I think we should discuss our strategy now.”, you instead cut him off with. “Yes...Of course.” Skywalker rubbed his forehead and sighed, stretching his arm out towards the location of their main tent. “But I just want to-”

You didn’t even give him the chance to speak, before abruptly turning towards the direction he had pointed at, determined to get this mission over as quickly as possible. It was then that you ran face first into a tall, broad man that had seemingly come out of nowhere. And your heightened Jedi senses had been too clouded with Skywalkers presence to recognize the other person.

Normally this simple occurrence would not have fazed you in the slightest. But this was Arami and aside from yourself and Skywalker there were only a certain group of people on the planet. Clones.

Instinctively your hands went to your lightsabers and your mouth curled into an angry scowl, eyes burning with fury. What imbecile of a labor-bred traitor had dared to step in your way?

You locked eyes with a blonde clone in full armor, clutching onto his helmet and already taking a few steps back. “General forgive me. I didn’t mean to-” The grip around your right lightsaber tightened. Had it not been for a decade of training in the arts of meditation, you would have probably jumped onto him like a feral beast and rammed your lightsaber right through that stupidly dyed head of his. Instead you decided to exhale deeply through your nostrils and stared right at him.

“It’s General (L/N) to you, soldier. Unlike you I have a name and I would prefer it be used to address me properly.” He could barely look into your eyes.

“Oh you’ve met, Rex.”, you recognized Skywalker's voice from behind you. “Captain Rex to be exact. One of my most trusted men.” Yes you knew of the silly little nicknames the clones gave each other and you were also aware of what Anakin was trying to accomplish, but you decided to not fall into his trap and walked towards the command tent.

“You okay, Rex?”, Anakin asked shortly after you left, laying his hand on Rex’ shoulder in a soft attempt to comfort. “Yeah...Yeah General. I don’t know what came over me. I wanted to apologize. I told myself now or never. But when I saw her I – I froze.” Anakin frowned, his eyebrows knitting in disbelief. “Rex you know you have nothing to apologize for. You acted in the name of justice.” The clone trooper stared at the ground, before putting his helmet back on. “If you say so.”

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

a/n: Originally I wanted to write out the entire idea of her sitting down with rex and talking it out and realizing how she had been in the wrong and even make it a little romantic but then i got a little carried away in the process and it turned out WAY too long anyway so- enjoy this. whatever it is. I’d call it experiment and me dipping into unknown territory to see if i want to continue lol Maybe I will do a second part where they actually work it out tho

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #sttcw #clone wars #the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #anakin skywalker #anakin #skywalker #clones #tcw #reader #reader insert #clones x reader

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stingiez-archive · 3 years

Text

note: this is a collab with the amazing @volumptuousvoid - i hope you all enjoy, my lovely loves!

title: (y/n)-chan of the first floor girls’ bathroom

pairing(s): pg!gonta gokuhara x reader

post type: one shot (possible fic series?)

premise: the first day of school makes a turn for the strange when gonta gokuhara is tasked with confronting the ghost of the first floor girls’ bathroom

warning(s): talk of serial killers and murder, the supernatural

key: (H/L) = hair length, (H/C) = hair color

High school, an eternal hell for those not among the chosen. It was a thunder dome of teenage body odor and a hell hole for crazed hormones to flourish. Gonta Gokuhara knew that folks like him would be easy to torment if he didn’t use his size to his advantage.

Puberty had blessed the poor boy with muscles like an Olympian and the height of an Amazonian, as he shedded his awkward 5′5″ middle school self and transformed into a 6′6″ high school first year. Still, he was clumsy and nervous like any kid on their first day of high school.

Gonta maneuvered his way through the halls of Hoddakido Wakkani Academy, students stepping out of the way as to not be trampled by the giant of a high schooler, “Class 1-A.. Class 1-A.. Class- oh, there!” he found his classroom and stepped inside, unknowingly signing his death warrant.

Inside the classroom, a group of third years stood waiting for their first target of the new school year. Of course, they weren’t expecting a behemoth like Gonta Gokuhara but he would do.

Gonta took note of the boys’ uniform buttons, gold to symbolize their status as third year students in comparison to Gonta’s first year bronze-colored buttons. Immediately, he bowed respectfully to his upperclassmen and exclaimed, “Apologies for intruding! Am I interrupting something?”

“Oh no, not at all!” one of the boys- a lanky guy with auburn hair- cooed to Gonta, “Actually, we need your help, big fellow.”

Gonta gritted his teeth at the words ‘big fellow’, he despised that nickname.

“I’m Haru, but you can call me Haru-senpai,” the third year boy replied.

“Understood, Haru-senpai!” answered Gonta, not wanting to anger his upperclassmen with disrespect.

“We have a tradition here at Hoddakido Wakkani,” another boy- a chubby guy with a bowl cut- added, “The first year student who makes it to homeroom first has to visit one of the school’s seven wonders.”

“Seven wonders?” Gonta never heard of such a thing at Hoddakido Wakkani.

“Seven wonders!” the chubby student replied, “And you, big guy, get to be the first student to visit (Y/N)-chan of the first floor girls’ bathroom.”

“W- What?” Gonta tried to conceal his stammer. To visit the girl’s bathroom on the first day of school when he was clearly a boy would be social suicide!

“No ifs, no buts, no whats,” stated Haru, grabbing Gonta by the collar and pulling the first year to eye level, “Meet us after school at three o’clock sharp, or you can kiss your time at Hoddakido Wakkani goodbye.”

Guess standing his ground on the first day of school went out the window.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Gonta awaited outside the first floor girls’ bathroom, twiddling his thumbs anxiously. The group of third years, led by Haru, stood before him with smirks and exchanged snickers. Haru took charge and informed Gonta, “Here’s a little history lesson on (Y/N)-chan~”

Gonta listened to Haru closely, as he explained the legend of (Y/N)-chan, ghost of the first floor girls’ bathroom.

“Legends has it that during the eighties, a serial killer was on the loose throughout the city of Wakkani. Although they were never caught, it was rumored to be the local butcher with an obsession for skinning pretty high school girls.”

Gonta gulped his nerves, remembering his parents talking about the spree of murders that plagued Wakkani during their teenage years.

“The serial killer managed to skin a dozen girls before killing a thirteenth girl, (Y/N) (L/N). Yet, she was a different case with the serial killer killing in the bathroom of Hoddakido Wakkani Academy instead of kidnapping her and taking her to a secondary location.”

Gonta didn’t remember his parents mentioning a thirteenth victim.

“To this day, rumors say that (Y/N)-chan haunts the first floor girls’ bathroom, attacking any man who dares enter her domain. And you, Gonta Gokuhara, are gonna be this year’s sacrifice.”

“Wait–” it was too late, Haru had already shoved Gonta inside the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Gonta tripped and fall on his face before sitting back up and clutching his bruised forehead, “Damnit..”

“Are you okay?” a soft voice asked him, was there a girl already in the bathroom beforehand?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay..” Gonta grumbled, as he slowly looked up, “It’s just a–”

His voice dissipated at the sight of the girl before him, glowing an eerie blue and floating over the ground. Gonta’s heart nearly gave out from the fright, as he stumbled to get away from the ghost, “G- G- G... GHOST!”

“You don’t have to be rude about it,” huffed the girl, swishing her (H/L) (H/C) back. The ghost was dressed in an older version of Hoddakido Wakkani Academy’s female uniform, a navy sailor outfit with black penny loafers and a loose neckerchief.

“Are you–” Gonta swallowed his nerves, “–(Y/N)-chan?”

The ghost, presumably (Y/N) of the first floor girls’ bathroom, smiled at Gonta and hummed in reply, “That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” she did a loop flying around the bathroom, “What brings you to my domain, cutie?”

Cutie? Gonta blushed at the compliment. Sure, his mother would call him a handsome boy but never had Gonta been complimented by a girl his age before. He cleared his throat, trying to cool down his flaming cheeks, and explained the situation to (Y/N)-chan, “I- er, I’m this year’s sacrifice.”

(Y/N)-chan blew a raspberry and rolled her eyes, “Tch, I hate it when those third years do that. Sure, I usually give the poor sap stuck as the sacrifice a scare but it has gotten soooooo–” she elongated her words, “–boring!”

Gonta blinked at the ghost, “So.. am I free to go?”

“Yeah, I guess!” the ghost checked her nails absentmindedly, “Or you can do me a favor.”

Gonta raised his eyebrows at (Y/N)-chan, “A favor?”

“Yeah, a favor!” the ghost repeated to the first year student.

“What’s the favor?” he asked.

“I want you to solve my murder.”

#danganronpa #danganronpa killing harmony #pregame gonta #pregame gonta gokuhara #pregame gonta x reader #pregame gonta gokuhara x reader #fic #possible series

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Hallow : ch xxi - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch / ?? - In which Pandora's one gift is given.

Sand poured down on Emma, her head spinning and wind knocked from her lungs from the fall to the cave’s floor. They were bathed in darkness now, the light of day Killian had disappeared into blotted out as she struggled to stand. Jasmine yelled from somewhere on her left, or somewhere on what could be her left, and Aladdin was groaning painfully somewhere that seemed to be below her.

It became harder to walk as more sand poured over her, anger and fear joined with grief, the unexpected stumble making her fall forward into the shifting grains.

He was gone.

She remembered everything.

And he was gone .

Emma screamed, letting her lungs work through their disuse and abuse in one long banshee chord, her fury rising in her veins. Kindling sparked, embers lit into a broad fan of flame that seemed to burn her alive. Magic exploded around her, bursting forth to bring the caves into a brilliant daylight that cast off the dark walls. Sand swirled around her in an elegant arc, up to the cave’s tall ceilings as it solidified into glass pillars, everything falling away at once to only the sound of her ragged cries.

Pushing herself to press against the walls of whatever enchantment covered the cave, Emma attempted to pull herself outside of the cavern, but could not. She cursed in frustration, tears pricking at her eyes.

“Emma, Princess, I am so sorry.” Aladdin approached cautiously, Emma’s head snapping up to stare at him. “I tried, I tried to -"

"Don’t you dare talk to her!” Jasmine hissed, moving in from another direction, over a large slope of sand. “You said you loved me, then you tried to murder me, and you think you have any right to apologize to anyone?"

"Jasmine, it’s not like that! I didn’t - I had no choice! I tried to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t -”

"Bullshit!” Jasmine screamed. “You knew my magic was weak, I told you how my mother died from this burden, you knew that I was absolutely terrified while I played these noble intrigues to curry favor, you knew my fears and you ran to my enemy to tell him every one of my vulnerabilities -"

"Stop it! Stop, just stop it!” Emma yelled, scrubbing at her face. She stood shakily, moving around the glass pillar she had made. Her hands shook, the feeling of being drenched in power overwhelming. “I need to - We all need to get out of here, so help me find a way out or get out of my way, but stop wasting time!"

Her attempts to magic herself and them out of the cave useless; Jasmine jumped back slightly at the burst of magic that escaped Emma, the blast knocking Aladdin off his feet.

He let out a rough groan, sitting up to look at Jasmine with a look of longing Emma recognized. It hurt to even acknowledge. All she wanted was Killian, and what if he wasn’t safe, if they actually killed him or made the Darkness worse? He had kissed her goodbye again, chosen for her again after everything they had gone through. She knew that they could beat the Darkness if he could just trust her, if he could just let her love him, and love her in return.

And now… And now —

Her brain raced as they dug through the leftover sand on the floor. If she had to count every last particle of sand in the desert, she would just to have him hold her again. There was so much, so much she hadn’t said; so much they had only dreamt of together, so many times she had wanted his touch but without understanding why . Only to have him leave her again.

"Look, look at this!” Aladdin was pointing to a crevice in the ground, broken apart by glass. Below it, a light shimmered in the form of a torch, intricately carved stairs curving down into the bowels of the cavern. Resting on a stair, glinting like starlight, was the shard on its broken chain. Killian had fought for her. He believed that this was fighting for them; no matter how wrong it was, he was trying. He was fighting in the only way he knew with the Darkness in him, and was willing to be torn to pieces for it. Her thoughts were so selfish and naive compared to his.

Carefully climbing down the thick glass, she picked up the shard. Peering down the torchlit corridor of steps that led down further, Emma tied up her skirts and began to move downwards. None of them spoke, Jasmine staying close as Aladdin trailed behind with pining glances and a skittish pace.

They all came to a halt at a door, clearly enchanted by ancient magic. A flowing language Emma could only recognize part of was written in the stone.

“A heart that lies craves the answer that allows entrance?” Emma asked, tracing the words.

“It wants truth. It says, ‘the answer is what the heart that is fed on untruths desires’, that only this will open the door. That’s what a dishonest heart craves the most, the truth to combat its lies,” Jasmine sighed. “So, truths… alright.”

Stepping in front of the door, Jasmine looked over to where Emma and Aladdin stood before looking back, clearing her throat.

“My truth is this: I never wanted to rule. My mother died saving Agrabah from a great cataclysm, which was to be my fate until she saw it. She sacrificed herself for me only to have me turn out to be only mildly clairvoyant. Grandfather locked himself away from us to hide here. After my father was killed, I took over out of necessity. This future is - It’s nothing as my mother described. It’s empty. It’s lonely.”

“I miss not having to constantly search the future for what is coming, I miss talking to my parents, I miss having friends or loved ones I could trust, I miss singing with my birds, and I miss…” Jasmine turned to look at Aladdin. “I told you everything about myself, showed you my world while you promised me that you would do the same. Why did you pretend to care about me? Why did you lie to me at every turn? I don’t want to miss you, and I hate that I let myself ever allow you to know anything about me."

The door shook, grinding open slightly.

"You aren’t innocent here either, Jasmine!” Aladdin hissed. “If you want truth, start there. You recognize me like this. You know who I am, and how your father let the guards tie me to that post for days, all because I stole a loaf of bread. You know that I was taken in again for stealing a melon, receiving lashes. You knew they called me a street rat, that I was an orphan deemed to be better on the streets than in a home. All the while, you looked right past me, as if I didn’t exist. I never expected you to ever see me as anything because you are royalty, but you staring into my eyes like that only to leave me at the mercy of the shopkeeper, the guards, your outdated laws that let my family starve… I became consumed by it. I wanted vengeance. I wanted it after your mother died, and after your father was poisoned.”

When rumors spread in the underground of a challenger to your fledgling rule, I jumped at the chance to be useful. I was a thief, no one would hire me after your father marked me as an untouchable. I was beaten for scraps of food while told only my fleas would mourn me above, but below, I was treated like a king. I rose quickly in the ranks as a dependable pickpocket and artifact hunter. That’s when Jafar had me procure the magic from this cave. I had no idea I would be cursed with the plight of the Djinn, bound to a lamp he could use. Jafar only had mumbled about making a Dark One, Arthur chiming in about some sword called Excalibur, before I found myself bound as a slave to them at this very door. The Djinn inside gives the holder the curse, but the wielder is the one who holds the newly made Gene’s lamp. Finding myself inside of it and being summoned to do their bidding was overwhelming. “

Jafar was quick to remind me I wasn’t as good as a Dark One, but I was determined to prove myself. He couldn’t be a Genie, but he could be an all powerful sorcerer instead of a mediocre magician. Hades and Arthur came next, each with their own selfish wishes to make themselves more powerful. I wanted revenge and a better life for the poorest in Agrabah. They wanted Agrabah to burn. We began to see each other in a new light.”

It was Arthur’s second in command who pivoted them to you. I know now that he was one of your guards, and I’m sorry for your loss. Lancelot was a great and honorable man. I never understood why or how he could stand with Arthur until he was gone, labeled a traitor. I owe him a great debt for pushing Arthur to introduce me to you, and to his indomitable belief that you would fight for Agrabah’s people. Lancelot pushed for an insider that would gain the trust of the nobles, ferreting out weaknesses. Arthur agreed that the best way to use me was to spy on you. He used my magic to create Ab’dua with me as its fake prince, so I could bid for your hand in marriage. When I fell in love with you, it complicated things. Genies can’t use magic to take life, create life, or create love - these magics are too ancient, they are lost to us and our workings. We can’t access the light or the darkness, but can access the chaos of the hidden spaces. “

I could not kill you, no matter how much they wished it, but I pretended to attempt it. I delayed their wishes by pretending, stalling, and proposing alternatives. I broke the Genie laws and told them no to keep you safe. I refused to do as I was told. I paid the price.” Aladdin gestured to the long scars that now ran down his arms, no longer the bright blue.

He stepped toward Jasmine as she backed up slightly, wavering. “When we flew to watch fireworks and you admitted you wanted to be just a normal peasant woman, I thought they would understand. I trusted them like an idiot. I couldn’t tell you I was a Genie without breaking your trust entirely or putting you at risk.” Aladdin raked a hand through his hair, laughing darkly. “They were already looking for other options since I refused to kill you. I thought our love would be enough, I thought I could keep them at bay, but then Jafar -

"Jafar attacked when I rebuffed his advances,” Jasmine interrupted. “I remember.”

“He tried to ra -” Aladdin tried to growl angrily, but she interrupted.

“I don’t need to relive the experience,” Jasmine bit out harshly. “In any case, it revealed him as a monster, a thief, and an unequivocal liar.”

“He is a monster. I couldn’t follow him any longer, but he was my master. I fought not to kill you, and I fought not to kill Emma. I made sure Killian could be freed, because I knew that he had deep feelings for the princess. I tried to do everything I could in my power. It was ripping me apart and I was lucky to survive… Which I’ve never been happier about. Please consider my apology, and allow me to protect you fully.”

The door slid open further, and Emma tried to push through. The gap was still just slightly too small.

“My truth is that… I love Killian.” The door did not open. “But that’s the truth!” she hissed, and Jasmine shot her an annoyed look.

“Try something a little less obvious, and more vulnerable.”

Emma paused, trying to think of something else that she could say. “I love my family? The United Realms? I…"

The door did not move. Emma screamed in frustration, pounding on it, tears suddenly burning in her eyes.

"Why!?” she screeched desperately, the howl nothing compared to what raged inside. “You want truth? Then why? Why is any of this, why does all of this suffering fall on me? Why can’t I just - why am I so useless?"

"Emma…” Jasmine whispered approaching in worry, but Emma brushed her off.

“I am so weak, I have had to be saved or pretend to be strong this entire time, to rely on lessons that never prepared me for any of this, and I’ve watched my people - my friends - get hurt again and again. I’ve watched them die ! Why? Are there no just gods? Is it my fault because of my royal pedigree I got by some prophetic birthright? Why can’t I just - why can’t I be stronger?” Emma cried, half heartedly pounding on the door with her shaking fists. “I just - I need to be stronger, because as far as I know everyone I have ever loved is gone, and they could be dead -"

"Emma. That’s enough!” Jasmine snapped, pulling Emma up firmly. She looked hard, lips set and her dark eyes glinting. “You are strong. How much have you faced? How much have you done? This is not your truth. Love can be an easy truth, and it’s not one needed here. Reach deeper.” Jasmine gripped Emma’s shoulders, giving a shake, before hugging her tightly.

“Jasmine, I don’t -"

"You do know, Princess,” Aladdin chimed in. Both women broke their embrace, looking at him expectantly. “Well, I mean -” He blushed, shuffling slightly. “Look. This is how I see it: you choose to find the best in people, like a superpower. You choose to find the truth of that person. You see good in Killian. You see… You saw good in me. Emma, your truth is not dark, and it’s not light; it’s in between, it’s both, it’s -"

"It’s hope,” Emma finished for him. “Pandora released all the terrors upon the world, until all that was left was hope. It clung to her skirts, multiplying for the eternity she walked the earth trying to undo her wrongs. I hold it in my heart, and I -” The door moved slightly, and she managed a wobbling smile, continuing on.

“I know despite everything there is hope. Hope for me to find strength, to beat Nil, to save my parents, and to save Killian. I have hope that the Darkness will not stop my love from reaching him.” The door shuddered violently, sliding cleanly as dust and dirt rose from the ground.

“I have hope that one day this will be over, and the Fae - all Fae - will be able to live better lives than they had before. Lives that are hopeful, as we keep moving forward into becoming better.” Emma’s voice wavered, the door wide in front of her. “No one is going to save me, to keep these hopes alive, except for me. I have to fight. I have to punch back.”

Jasmine hugged her tightly, laughing with glee, Aladdin joining them in an embrace as they all whooped with happiness.

Aladdin fit his palm into hers with a squeeze, Jasmine pulling him in for a tighter hug until shock registered. She jumped back as if she had been burnt, a reddening blush spreading across her cheeks. Looking sheepish, Aladdin opened his mouth to say something, but lost it when he looked to where Emma was gawking.

On a stone pedestal, raised and lit by some source of magical light, sat a golden lamp carved with ornate markings that shone in the cave, brighter than jewels.

Jasmine stepped forward and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Looking at the lamp, she called out.

“Alibaba, Prince of Thieves, Djinn All Father and my Grandfather, I ask you to please wake."

"Grandfather?” Emma squeaked, only to be hushed by both Aladdin and Jasmine. The cave rumbled, blue smoke filtering slowly from the lamp.

“Ten thousand years in a lamp will give you such a crick in the neck!” a voice thundered, a man appearing from a column of smoke. He wore a bejeweled turban and kaftan, his deep brown eyes strikingly familiar. They blinked in surprise as he looked down at where they stood. “Granddaughter? Why have you come? I have told your father that I will never reconsider - "

"My father has been gone now for several years,” Jasmine stated with a calm that bordered a line of steel. “He was poisoned. I took over in his stead and have ruled without incident until now, which is why I have broken your solitude to ask for aid.”

“Aid?” the Djinn asked, crossing his arms, his head falling to one side while his eyes surveyed Jasmine. “I will not help you fight some war, or subject you to the fate your mother sacrificed herself to prevent. If that is what you ask of me, you have only to receive disappointment.”

“Grandfather, I need the power of the Djinn at my side; not locked away under the sands in the middle of nowhere -"

"Out of the question. No. Your mother did not want the fate of the Djinn tied to your life, and she gave everything for it.” His eyes moved to rest on Emma. “I swore on her name and her memory that the only magic I will perform is creating our kind. You are already part Djinn, and the thief has been freed from his servitude. That leaves only your powerful friend here.”

“Power? Me?” Emma scoffed. “I know my magic is strong and I’m supposed to be some sort of savior, but I promise you this world has turned that idea on its head. I can barely save myself.”

The Djinn laughed, and looked at Jasmine. “The Savior of legend? Well, I never thought - I never imagined this. That means it’s my time. A new All Father must be chosen, your presence heralds my daughter’s protective barriers on Agrabah being broken. It’s time for me to finally rejoin her in the chaos from whence we were born.”

Jasmine blinked, looking as confused as Emma felt. “Grandfather, what are you talking about? Please, just come with us, or give me more than just this intuition, give me the magic my mother had -"

"The crown fitted with the diamond in the rough, delivered by the savior unknowingly, in exchange for shining her light on the Darkness. The diamond taking my place, to be seated on the throne with the crown. It was foretold, and now must come to pass before the Darkness is given a new host.” The Djinn stared at Aladdin, Emma trying to puzzle out his cryptic phrases.

“I need - please, if they’re trying to free Killian from that…” Emma trailed off, unwilling to think about what Killian might be enduring. “Please just help us. If I’m supposed to be some savior, help me!"

"I am. I have the diamond in hand, and he will be forever embedded in the crown as the prophecy foretells.” The Djinn turned, his eyes fixating on Aladdin. “Your power will be challenged immediately, and for that I am sorry. Take comfort knowing that your reign will be long.”

Aladdin sputtered, looking between Emma and Jasmine. “I don’t know anything about what he’s talking about, can someone please -"

"You have so much power, Savior, it’s fascinating. It’s as if the solution to the scale tipping is you.” The Genie Father’s dark blue eyes grew darker to a coal black, and Emma felt its magic pulse through her own, as if it rippled through her body. “Light casts no shadow, and can blind those who wield it with reckless abandon as effectively as darkness. Be sure to walk your path with careful steps… I look forward to waking again, if just to hear the end of your tale Princess Emma. For the light loving the darkest recesses where it cannot ever reach is a romantic tragedy worthy of telling.”

His visage became foggy, body falling away like a fading mirage. A stillness fell, as if the entirety of the cavern had hushed in expectation, everything gathering where the Djinn had been. Emma could feel the magic, its pull as it ate itself, condensing in implosion. As soon as she felt it taper into almost non-existence, it exploded outwards, ruffling her hair in its breeze. There were bright flashes of a woman with Jasmine’s eyes, her dark hair streaked with a shock of sky blue. She smiled widely, bouncing a toddler on her knees, the memory changing to a young girl child holding the woman’s hand. She turned, looking back, a perfect miniature of Jasmine. Jasmine gasped from behind where Emma had stood, Aladdin floating slightly as the shimmering copper spots seemed to burn around him.

The Genie Father laughed, his disembodied voice echoing in the cavern. “Be great and do things this universe needs. Do not get stuck forgotten beneath the sands, used up and all alone. Learn from my mistakes, and be better than I ever was. So long, Genie Father, leader of the free Djinn. Goodbye, my beloved granddaughter. I hope to one day hear tales of you, as well.”

Aladdin fell to the ground on his hands and knees, eyes closed as the air stopped shimmering around him. The old and ornate lamp on the stone crumbled to dust, and Emma caught the golden glint of a new lamp appearing in Aladdin’s hands. He gaped at it with wide eyes.

“Aladdin!” Jasmine rushed to his side, pushing him to his side despite his annoyed grunt.

“What just happened?” he asked, looking deeply confused. She looked him over as he began to grin, staring at her while she fussed over his exposed skin, looking for anywhere he had been hurt.

“I think,” Jasmine said slowly, shaking off her disbelief, “I think he made you the All Father. Which makes you a permanent fixture of my court. You serve as my second, my defense minister, my sorcerer - ”

“I guess you’re stuck with me, eh?” he teased. She only shook her head without speaking and he sighed, grin softening. “Jasmine, I’m -"

"You have to maintain the barriers, you have to help me keep my people safe, and he just gave it to you without any instruction.” Jasmine’s breathing came quick, her composure falling away to fear. “How could he do this to me, to Agrabah -"

” Our people,“ Aladdin replied softly. "I have to keep our people safe. And I will, Sultana. I’d fight to my last breath for everyone in Agrabah to have food, and to be protected. I swear to you, I will master the magic we need to keep Agrabah out of harm’s way."

"You told me the truth and I hated you for it. How can we work together now with everything, all of it between us? This is all too much - ”

“I have faith we will be alright, and faith has gotten me through most of this life. When I didn’t have food, I had faith I would soon. The hope for something better, that spite of living just because dying would be easy - I had faith I would change Agrabah, and change you. I was wrong in the end.” Aladdin cupped Jasmine’s cheek, her face tilting into the touch. “You ended up seeing through me every time I tried to get anything past you. It’s been the most mystifying prospect as a thief to be so easily laid out by you - and not only because of your fortune telling. I did not so much as change you as you changed me.”

“I foresee you stealing my heart from me, Aladdin. Especially now that you are royalty, and no laws have to change for us to be together.” Jasmine’s eyebrow raised slightly, and Emma’s heart ached for Killian. “But first, let’s get back the Princess’ guide.

"Call me Al.” He smirked, and with a snap of his fingers, they stood in the blinding sun of the desert, sand swirling around them. “Let’s go free the Dark One.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The trip to wherever they were was arduous; Killian’s feet blistered in his boots and sand stuck to any patch of sweaty skin it could cling to. His captors hadn’t stopped for rest, making it clear that they were happy to let him drag across the scorching sand or jagged outcroppings that made up the steppe. Sand became plains spotted with squat bushes and tall spiked plants, which bled into a wooded marshlands. There was a clear path now which Killian’s feet were grateful for, the faint whispering around him forcing him to raise his head.

Crumbling homes with tents or shoddy tin, mud, and wood patch jobs lined the road, a cart on its side with a broken axle smashed into one. Children dressed in filth caked rags peeked out from darkened doorways, while shadows creeped to peer out at the newcomer. The village stank, rotten food left out near the square that an older woman added a basket too, a pig and goat happily eating away at it. They were the only ones who seemed to be happy at all, let alone healthy.

The road curved, a towered structure coming into view.

“Welcome to Camelot II, Dark One!” Arthur bellowed. “It’s not home yet, but it will be once I repair the legendary blade!”

Killian ignored him as he prattled about the war, refusing to ally with the United Realms, and their subsequent banishment as they walked through the gate into the courtyard. Immediately, servants flocked to help the men down, bringing fresh fruit and water with them. Killian’s mouth watered.

“Ah, ah, Dark One!” Jafar waved a finger, chewing slowly on a fig. The juice ran down his face, into his twisted beard, Killian deciding very suddenly that he was no longer hungry. “Jawa, Anice, take the Dark One for a bath. I need him thoroughly cleaned.”

Two women came forward, flanked by a large guard who took the rope with a sharp tug. Killian lurched forward, following them with confusion. Why in seven hells was he getting a bath? He dare not complain for it, practically diving in the steaming tub that was filled for him. The women took their task seriously as they scoured his skin with rough cloth, and they were not interested in holding conversation unless it was to snap at the other.

They rubbed him in oils when he stepped out onto the woven towel, leaving him bare but for it. Not giving him anything to wear, they led him into a darkened room that emanated a strange green glow. A glass wall filled with swirls of brown and green hypnotized Killian, like something watched him from its depths, catching him in the cross hairs.

In the murky waters of the tank, something stirred. A dark tentacle met the glass, toothed suction cups scraping against it with a loud screech. A great yellow eye opened, something chittering as bubbles churned. Ink flooded the water making it impossible to see the thing that lay within, the tubes leading from the tank filling with black that poured neatly into a large beaker.

“We’ve spared no luxury for your stay with us, Dark One.” Jafar smiled, appearing behind him with the other two not far behind. “Kraken ink, an unlimited supply given at will. It makes it easy to keep you docile while we work on extracting the Darkness from you.”

Killian tried not to focus on the hands strapping him down on the table, or the clatter of tools as Jafar laughed with other men.

“Hades, Arthur, are you both ready?” Jafar practically purred. “First incision, with ink at the ready. Wound closure test one, with 60ml of ink applied topically on the left.”

The burn he felt took his breath away, the Darkness shrieking under his skin as the ink paralyzed it further. It bit into his muscles and tried to escape from around the wound, blood flowing freely without its cauterizing. He focused on the dripping ceiling above him and watched the shadows cast from the torches’ light, trying to hold himself together.

“The Darkness is not healing the laceration, as predicted,” a low voice commented. “May I?"

"Go ahead Hades. I have to prepare poisons, and Arthur has to get his machines ready.” Jafar was smiling, Killian was sure of it. A finger prodded the wound, his throat tightening with the need to scream. A needle pricked his forearm, ink beginning to pump through his bloodstream in earnest.

“Alright. Preparing for reaction to flame, magical and otherwise.” The voice that belonged to Hades seemed giddy with excitement now. “Test one of six hundred and twenty four: coals placed within bodily cavities. First, the chest cavity. Administered ink intravenously to prevent rapid regeneration.”

A sharp pain shot through his chest, a knife sliding across his sternum. Hands began prying him open, his lips finally able to part as he let out a howl. The ink cut him off as his ribs cracked, the sound coming to a stop while Hades started the slow process of burning every part of his body.

It seemed to go on for days as he drifted away, the Darkness focused on healing what it could and learning about its captors. A new, more malleable and pliant vessel suited its needs, and Killian could feel its delight at the idea even though the haze of pain.

He breathed his own ash, Hades throwing him in a dank cell where rats scattered from the place he landed, his chest only recently healed from the hot coals they had forced inside.

“Heal up, Arthur has many tests to perform,” Hades said in his low, mirthless intonation.

Killian curled into a ball, shivering. If Arthur’s chosen methods were anything like Hades, the violations would make his worst nightmares seem warm. When he heard Hades’ footsteps cease as a heavy door closed, he began to laugh, his dry and cracked wheeze full of charcoal dust. Madness was setting in already, and he had promised, promised -

Emma.

Her name snapped him back, the idea of a vessel capable of taking this curse away worth any torment the world could devise. His mind drifted to where there had been absence, now filled again with her, nothing but his desire to leave a man no longer tethered to the Darkness. He could almost hear her voice, feel her gentle fingers in his hair or her lips against the corner of his mouth.

Another voice broke through his reverie.

“Are you the newest Dark One then?” a man asked from the cell across from his, the iron criss crossing bars and dim light obscuring their identity. “You are in for a long and unpleasant stay, creature. Not as if you don’t deserve this, but I suppose even after all this time I can muster a sliver of pity.”

Killian grunted, sitting up.

The voice continued, despite Killian’s obvious attempts at ignoring it.

“I’m surprised you don’t recognize me, or that it doesn’t recognize me, I suppose. We were such close companions when I summoned it into this world.” The man let out a sigh. “Of course, it’s only a scrap of what it was, it seems -"

The Darkness took control with ease, Killian unable to leash it in his weakened state.

"You know nothing about me, sorcerer,” it hissed through his mouth, its voice dry and gritted. “You, ever the hypocrite, should not question my strength… or your own weakness."

The Darkness felt hot under his skin, as if it was boiling while it healed him, wanting to lunge from his bones and blood to attack the other prisoner.

"History is doomed to repeat itself, it would seem. That I do know, and I say it with the utmost disrespect to you,” the man laughed, quietly. “When you are destroyed again, and your vessel dies because of it, I hope this time you cease to be.”

“LIES!” the Darkness screeched, Killian’s throat raw after it quieted, his panting breaths deep.

Before he could process the words, he was forced to lean forward, then backwards into the stone wall with enough force to send him into unconsciousness.

He woke to the man still talking, his head throbbing and mouth dry. He could feel the Darkness seething, its agitation coming in waves.

He won’t shut up, shut him UP

“Is it telling you to silence me?” the man asked, sounding bored. “It does that when I tell it truth. The Darkness does not like honesty, especially from old Merlin here.”

“You’re Merlin?” Killian rasped, his head throbbing.

Don’t talk to him

The sorcerer is a LIAR

Silence him, slit his throat, cut out his tongue, just make him quiet!

“Indeed I am,” came the reply, with a hint of amusement. “My reputation precedes me, I presume."

"I must get rid of it, this curse,” Killian pulled himself closer to the bars, resting his head on the stone wall to keep from touching the iron bars. “Please, help me. I read your journals, I know that you were sure there wasn’t a way to end the Darkness, but there must be -"

"There is no way. I’m sorry,” Merlin swallowed hard, his voice softening. “And because of what you are, you’ll break the ones around you. I loved a Dark One. I know how selfish, how cruel you can be. You can’t be saved… I couldn’t save her because a Dark One can’t love ."

"I did. I do! Emma and I -"

"If you have even the smallest bit of doubt, it is too dangerous. It will destroy everything you touch. It stains.” His voice took on a tone of tenderness, wavering slightly. “My love - Nimue tried, she desperately tried, but it consumed her seeking its own devices. If it had the shard and its freedom, you wouldn’t be able to stop it."

Killian shook his head, the Darkness cackling as it tore him apart to put him back together. "You don’t know that. They can take it from me, and separate it from me -"

"It needs a host. You two are bonded by powers almost as old as time, heat, cold: instincts. It is part of you, and only death can free you. One special kind of death - even if it takes a new host.”

“No,” Killian let the word fall from his lips like a plea. “They will take it from me. I will be free of this!"

The sorcerer is right, for once

All she will be is a toy when you are gone, and I have a better vessel to control…

"I wish you could be, but it’s not the case. You’ll hurt everyone you love, the Darkness only gets stronger the more you try peeling it back. It drove Nimue mad."

"We could be different. You don’t know!"

Images of Emma flooded his mind, the Darkness clawing at them. He couldn’t imagine life without her, but imagining her suffering because of him, his abuse pushed by the Darkness and growing more unstable - it tore him apart. Merlin had said the Darkness stained. Had he stained her?

"You can have all the hope of a different outcome, but it will be the same. Nimue went at it with me in a full on rage, the need for power too much. I couldn’t risk her hurting anyone else, so I ended her life after it consumed her entirely. I loved her, desperately so. She didn’t believe in True Love, but I thought she was mine.” Merlin paused, wistful as he swallowed hard. “Don’t put your Emma through that, especially if you think you’ll hurt her before she can stop you."

And you will hurt her. She can’t save you.

"I wouldn’t, I never -"

"I’m willing to bet you have, Dark One.” Merlin sighed. “As long as you have doubt, the Darkness will win. Without the dagger’s control, you are still only just a puppet to its whims. I’m sorry.”

Silence but for the wind, dripping water, and the rattle of chains echoed through the cells, Merlin going quiet.

The sorcerer is right about that

You are my puppet. You will destroy her.

“It said you were a liar,” Killian blurted out. “What is it scared of, can it at least be destroyed -"

The Darkness howled, his jaw clenching shut. His body buckled, and he could now see Merlin through the gloom as his head hit the damp floor. He was tall, dark eyes sad as his lips curled into a pitying grimace.

"It can be destroyed, and sent away. I know it can,” Merlin turned away, walking out of Killian’s view. “I ran experiments; I thought - I thought I had the answer. I thought an element as ancient as it, the fundamental pillars of magic if you will, could break it. The Promethean Flame, The Philosopher’s Stone, the tears of a dying Goddess, first of her name. They all should work to destroy the Vorpal Dagger.”

“Then why didn’t you -"

"I couldn’t destroy it completely because it was bound to Nimue. I loved her, and it made me blind. She died for it to live, until your birth as the Dark One awoke it again. I was there that night, on the cliffs. It was supposed to be the Goblin King holding the power, and keeping her alive.”

“You fought on their side? Against your own -"

"I did. The war was a complexity I couldn’t untangle myself from. I know now neither side was in the right.”

“You helped him? He stole women, he raped them, he massacred those men -"

"You are too young to know what the Goblins went through. It’s been all but erased from time, impossible to find except in a few unedited texts that Arthur owns, and the Goblin’s own recounted history. This is what they were made to do."

"What are you talking about? They killed -"

A rattle and creaking of a door silenced him, Jafar grinning as he opened Killian’s cell. "My turn, Dark One. I hope Merlin has warmed up that mind of yours. I have some lovely treats for it.”

Killian was led away, fighting weakly, still not completely healed. Pushed roughly onto a table, Jafar readied neatly placed bottles of different sizes and colors, next to several different syringes.

“Shall we?” he purred. “I have a neurotoxin I have been dying to see the effects of."

There was a jab in his arm, and Killian felt the burn of something entering his veins. Bright sparks began to play behind his eyes almost immediately, his body beginning to convulse. He took a gulp of air when the Darkness brought him back from death, his eyes closed tight, peace just within sight but never within reach.

He couldn’t hear Jafar now, could barely feel the needles or poisons rushing into him to eat away at his organs. His broken mind focused on one single thought, holding its fragile light close.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The bandit camp came into view as Emma spat out the shells of dried cocoa beans off the side of the carpet. They’d been flying for days, stopping only if needed for quick sustenance, bartering for information, or other needs. They finally found one of the compounds Jafar was fond of using accidentally, a drunken and shouting group of men talking about the take over in less than hushed voices. It was easy enough to follow their camels until the sandstone buildings and tents caught the light of the horizon.

What Emma hadn’t expected was the projectiles launched at them, the carpet diving into a rolling dodge. They plummeted from the sky only to straighten a few feet from the ground. Emma panted, as Jasmine and Aladdin heaved in breath, the three of them gripping the carpet tightly as it continued forward. They arrived at the western side of the camp quietly, their weapons in hand.

Stepping out, her palms crackling, Emma felt a surge within her. Light surrounded her, magic pulled from the very air, the first man who realized something was amiss hitting the ground when her green eyes met his. She watched him wither, feeling oddly detached as Jasmine and Aladdin fought ahead of her. Or they did, until she drew near and more bodies fell to the ground. It felt wonderful to be so powerful, to look at the men with deep shadows in their eyes and scarred skin and know they lay on the ground because of her. They weren’t quite dead, but they were most definitely not as alive as they were.

Trailing her fingers along the rough clay walls, the texture made her irritated by the lack of care they had put into making this home for themselves. It was carelessly crafted with no artisanry, the sheer utilitarianism of its lack of beauty unacceptable. The fire that jumped from her skin was white and golden tinted cream, shooting up the structure.

Emma moved inwards, pressing through the smoke. "Killian?” she called out, but no answer came outside of the men who roared at her in rage. They all fell within moments, as if an unseen creature had bowled them over. Clucking her tongue, Emma stepped over them daintily.

She turned the corner to find Jasmine talking to a terrified looking younger man, his face just starting to grow hair. They were speaking rapidly in what sounded like a mix of Agrabaric and something Emma could not identify, his finger pointing to where she stood as he screamed in fright. Jasmine turned to look, and seeing Emma, sighed.

“He’s afraid you’re going to kill him.” Jasmine shrugged at her as Aladdin rounded a corner closer to where the young man was tied.

Aladdin laughed, and kneeled to look at him. “Tell him she could kill him either way, but for the chance of a less painful death, or possibly no dying at all, he should answer.”

Jasmine hissed something sinister sounding Emma could not quite understand, although she recognized the clear words for 'painful dying’ well enough. The man broke down into frantic speech, crying in deep gasps when he finished.

Jasmine laughed slightly, motioning for them all to leave.

“He said that they sent an envoy to Camelot II when they saw us arrive. The Dark One is held not too far from here, but he warns that the three plan to use him to transfer the Darkness to -” Jasmine blinked in surprise, looking back at Emma who fidgeted anxiously. “Killian has a brother?"

Emma’s mouth opened, and she blinked in confusion. "No, he had a brother, an older brother. Liam. He died in the War.”

The man began to babble, animatedly pointing to Emma, and she heard the name Liam several times in his speech.

Jasmine’s brow furrowed, and she looked back at Emma. “He says this is Liam, the younger brother of the Dark One. He doesn’t know of any other brother to the Darkness. Are you sure Emma? Because he swears -"

"I don’t care what he swears on, he’s wrong. Liam is dead, he died and - just ask him the way to Killian!” Emma snapped, her power making her hurt with how much it wanted to be used, as if a current ran through her body. Jasmine’s frown deepened, and Aladdin stepped between them with an uneasy smile.

“Emma, maybe you should take a moment -"

"I can’t - Liam was - Liam and Elsa are dead, and if Killian dies, if he -"

"He’s going to be fine. We’re only a few days behind them, he will have held on, alright? I see the way he looks at you Emma. He will hold on until you get there,” He approached cautiously, wincing slightly. Looking down, she realized the ground around her had begun to crackle with the glow of her magic. Aladdin glowed a light blue himself as if he was wading through a river. “Please, calm down.”

Emma took a deep breath, steadying herself, pulling her power back as well as she could. Everything screamed against it, begging her to punish those who had done wrong, whispering how she could purify this land. Emma blocked it out, focusing on Killian. She could almost hear him, a feeling of grief washing over her.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Jasmine ended her conversation, nodding towards the carpet. “I got it. Let’s go."

Emma hesitated just a moment, looking at the man who trembled on the ground. She walked toward him, and whispered a word she hoped he understood.

"Run."

He fled, Emma walking towards the carpet where her friends waited. Dispelling the energy she’d been holding, the structure crumbled as flame burst from the ground, the heat blistering, blindingly bright and booming bursts of explosion rocking the ground as she joined them.

No one said anything as they flew away from what once was the encampment, now no more than a smoldering crater in the sands.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian was thrown back into the cell more dead than alive, cycling through consciousness until he was healed enough to maintain it. In many ways he wished he had stayed in the relief of the dark, the poisons Jafar had used left him confused, suffering hallucinations, and left him lying in his own sick multiple times.

"Who could ever love you?” Emma whispered, her throat cut by his own hand, heart beating rapidly in his other. “Go ahead. Crush it. Kill me, just like you thought you did - like you wanted to.”

His mouth tasted awful, his brain unsure if it was the twisted Emma’s kiss, or his own bile rising.

Liam appeared, fussing over him while Elsa shrieked at him to join them, faces pressing themselves close enough that his thin eyelids weren’t enough to keep them at bay.

“Just die Killian,” Elsa breathes in his ear, the cold air freezing his cheek. “It only hurt for a moment, and now it only hurts when the air goes through me. It’s that hole in my chest, it just lets the draft in!” she laughed, cackling.

Milah fell away at his fingertips, turning to dust that sent him retching, his mother’s rotted palm clammy against his forehead.

“Hush my sweet boy. Hush. Mummy loves you sweet Killian boy…"

The visions paraded through the cell until they were few, his breath not coming in gasps or pants and his eyes not blurring or falling away to kaleidoscopic fractals.

He turned his head, rolling to move out of the damp mess he had created. When he looked up, a new visage sat watching him. His father, looking worn and weary even in this younger appearance, stared at him.

"What do you want, phantom? Could they not send me Liam instead of you?"

The ghoul cocked its head, but moved closer. "I’m Liam.”

Killian barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. Liam was a better man than you ever were. Liam was everything good, and you and I, we… were everything wrong .”

“I’m not that Liam. He was dead after I was born.” The phantom paused. “Do you think I’m Papa? You killed our other brother. I know all about everything wrong you did, Papa told me so. I don’t expect either would haunt you, you’re a disgrace.”

The words settled heavily over him, and Killian tried to process them. He could see the differences now, the skinny and sallow cheeks hiding the curve of Liam’s - his Liam’s - jawline, the eyes of their father set deep under furrowed brow. If the scrap of a man had been fed better and had not had a slightly different nose, he could have passed for a scrawny version of himself with Liam’s face and hair.

But then, Father had named him for Liam’s memory, so as a child, as a babe even, he must have taken after their oldest sibling. The idea of his father siring another child made Killian’s stomach churn, his head still stinging from the nerves knitting back together.

“How did -” Killian hesitated, trying to make sense of this development. “Did he abandon you, too? Fall to drink and beat you? Did you run here? I can - "

"Abandon me?” Liam asked with incredulous laughter. His smile darkened, eyes glinting. “No. He got sick, Ma cared for him best she could until he died. Papa was patient. I don’t remember him drinking but he smoked a pipe a lot. He started all of this, with his hatred of nobility and what became of his sons. He said you both died in the war, but you died a coward. You were supposed to lead us until it was discovered how dearly you care for your princess.”

Killian swallowed hard. “Of course. Of course it was that simple to him.” Mumbling, Killian laid his aching head back on the stone wall. “He - Father was technically right. We both died in the war, I just came back as this. The remnants of a coward’s choice, even if it wasn’t mine."

"It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Liam sneered.

Killian shook his head slowly, before catching Liam’s eyes. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Are you still sure you want to take it? To be filled with this Darkness, and become a coward yourself?

"I would never - Will never be a coward like you are. You follow that prancing princess and all these rules of good form and noble intentions,” Liam spat, his lips curled in disgust. “I will live hand and hand with the Darkness as we remake this world in the image of the Blackwater. I’ll go back and reclaim our lineage -”.

“No one has ever done anything hand in hand with the Darkness. It uses you, until you are empty. It will hollow you out,” Killian stated with bitterness. “I ask again, do you want this? Do you not have anyone that you wish to protect? It will hurt them, no matter how hard you try.”

Liam did not answer.

Killian sat in the silence, until Liam spoke quietly.

“Anyone?” Killian nodded. “Even family?"

"Especially family,” Killian admitted, unable to hide the sorrow in his voice. “I killed my brother as I begged to stop. The Darkness reveled in it. It laughed while I broke, as I screamed for it to spare him. Do you - are there more of - do you have more siblings? Is your mum…?”

“Still alive? Yeah, she’ll live another thousand years just to be around, pull'n me by the ear. She’s a terror. Papa said she was scarier than the sea and hell combined. They loved each other though, and me. It’s just us. She misses him a lot."

"I'm…” Killian swallowed hard again, a strange whirlwind of emotion going through his mind.

“You don’t need to be sorry or any of that shit.” Liam grunted, then spat at the floor. “You don’t owe anything to me or to Papa. You may have made Papa ashamed, but I didn’t - and I can’t wait to destroy everything for this cause. I’ll have the Darkness at my control in no time."

"You’ll die too then,” Killian whispered, shrugging. Liam tensed, his shoulders rising as his fists balled. “By Fath - by his standards I’m dead. You will be the end of the Jones men. It’s history repeating itself as usual - I killed my Liam, and now you, the new Liam, will kill me. Then in turn the Darkness will take over, and kill you. I’ll damn your soul gratis as I die, two Liams ended by my hand. Father will be ever so proud.”

“Shut up,” Liam hissed. He stood, leaving with a slam of the cell’s heavy door.

Killian laughed lightly, still unable to stop as he scrubbed his face. Merlin was either quiet or somewhere else, the stillness eerie as the wind outside howled.

Closing his eyes, he dreamt of being free, the Darkness too tired and hopeful itself to try and stop him.

Footsteps woke him later, the time indeterminate while he slept. He could hear Arthur’s laugh before his boots even came close, Merlin groaning as he was thrown back into the cell across from his. His own door rattled, and Killian resisted the urge to open his eyes. Heavy hands forced him up by his hair, his eyes squinting open to stare at Arthur’s grinning face.

“Time to play, Dark One.” Arthur began to walk, the man holding Killian by his scalp dragging Killian along behind his path. “I have a fascination with Mortal implements of torture. I can’t wait to see what my updates for them will look like, and how they will work on Fae. I had to get Goblins to do the iron working, I wanted it perfect.”

Something creaked loudly, metal clanging.

“Since you seem to be so tired, we’ll let you rest for a bit. Liam told me you were crying for your princess too, so I managed to get you some company - she’s a fine maiden, but a bit steely.” Arthur chuckled, and Killian was shoved into a dark space. His back hit spikes, the iron sharp. “Enjoy the embrace of the iron maiden, mate .”

The door closed, and Killian heard the crunch of his just healed ribs. He screamed, listening to Arthur laughing in glee.

It didn’t last long, the door opened only after a few hours and he was wrenched out, Arthur pouting. “ You didn’t scream for very long. How disappointing.”

Killian was thrown on a rough wooden table, his body stripped of the dirty clothing. Cold water was thrown on him as his wounds attempted to close, a rough scrubbing given to him by the same brute that had thrown him around.

“This though, this is my pride and joy.” Something was attached to him, then another. Suctioned pieces stuck on his skin in various places. “It’s a machination for torture, meant to hurt more than any magics or physical torment in the Realms. Merlin was forced to help me design it, and I must say, I hope his work is nothing short of masterful. Now, don’t hold it in this time.”

Something clicked, and Killian’s eyes shot open. He screamed, unable to stop, the pain shot up his nerves and down his spine as if he was being torn apart cell by cell. The Darkness fell away, watching something do its work far more efficiently.

It stopped, Arthur talking to someone he couldn’t see.

“What sort of message? Can’t you see I’m busy -"

The messenger dismounted from the carpet while Killian took advantage of the respite, sucking in hissed gulps of air. The binds at his ankles and wrists had rubbed the skin raw, but his head and chest were the worst, burning in a horrific fire like pain. Arthur bellowed out a laugh that trailed into a dark chuckle.

"Oh, now this… This is too rich. Sit down, Gilead."

The messenger sat dutifully, and Killian struggled to flinch back when Arthur slowly walked back to the machine.

"I must tell you, your obstinacy and impudence so far has been honorable. No one will say that you aren’t strong of mind.” Arthur paused, his grin wide. “ However , ever since I discovered the Darkness was so close to the surface, I have wondered how strong is the heart attached to it. To keep your princess alive for so long, against all odds and your own interests, well.” He smirked, laughing again. “I thought how weak you must be, if I could just figure out what was special about her. Did you covet her kingdom? Her power? Proximity to her parents and those who wronged you?"

Killian grunted, Arthur cranking the lever to stretch him taut again. The piece of wood in his mouth suddenly felt too dry, Arthur’s mentions of Emma putting him in a state of unease he hadn’t felt before.

"Alas, now I see how simple it actually is. Or, more aptly, was . You did not deserve how much she loved you. Lucky for us, that has been rectified. The princess has been removed from the situation."

The words didn’t settle on his pain hazed mind right away, his noise behind the gag in his mouth at first in disbelief. Arthur laughed heartily, motioning for the messenger to sit up.

"Come here Gilead. Tell The Dark One what you told me."

The curly haired redhead stepped towards his master, gulping before speaking in a reedy voice.

"Princess Emma of the United Realms was spotted approaching the Eastern compound near Agrabah with at least one other companion, possibly two. Our wizard took care of her.” The boy, he was more boy than man Killian could see now, mimed something crashing to the ground, Killian’s heart stopping.

Arthur roared with laughter, almost doubled over.

“You know, I meant what I said. You didn’t deserve how much Emma loved you,” he sneered, waving his man away. “It was sickening really, once I realized you two were always staring at each other or bickering. Yearning like some courtiers fresh out of finishing. It’s a shame that neither of us had a chance with her. She would have been a feisty little -"

Killian lunged, the Darkness roaring out of him as if he was nothing but its rage. Dark shadow fell around him, flowed through him, his hands shaking in the straps before he freed himself from one of his restraints. Arthur backed away, just out of reach.

Emma.

The name was an endless array of emotions that made him crazy, the Darkness irritated, and part of him mourned.

Emma, no. Not -

Let me go, let me take a new vessel, you sniveling coward

Die with your silly heart breaking, weakling fool!

Emma, his Emma, if she was - he couldn’t bear the thought.

The Darkness continued its pressure, tendrils of it exploding outward. Arthur let the machine run, doing its worst as Killian broke, Emma’s name on his lips.

"She died thinking she could save you, wanting to see you one more time. It’s your fault, but from what I’ve heard, that’s usually how this happens for you, isn’t it? Milah, Elsa, and now Emma - I know about them all. Your little princess was so worried about you when she thought she could confide in me. I wonder if she knew you would fail her like this?” Arthur laughed, Gilead clearing his throat to mumble something, his master’s head snapping to look at him. “Quiet, imbecile. Have respect for the dead."

Let go, vessel. Give in. She no longer waits for you.

Give me control. She’s gone, you have nothing.

She wouldn’t want that. She would have wanted you to be strong, she loved you - the real you - not what you were when the Darkness won out - and even then she loved you, Darkness and all, despite of everything. She would have fought for you, and now you have to fight -

She’s dead. What she would have wanted doesn’t matter anymore, she plummeted to her death because of you. You were her literal downfall, vessel. She tried to save you, but you can’t be saved. It’s better this way. I would have killed her in a much more personal manner if she had survived.

"Poor, poor Dark One,” Arthur sneered. “I can’t wait for you to break. The Darkness damns you even after death - poor sweet Emma is lost to you forever.”

It’s better that way, vessel. This is all for the best.

You were weak, and she died for it. It’s time to let me go, and for you to join the Darkness in eternity.

Far off, he heard the gentle noise of her voice, calling out to him. He wouldn’t let go yet, not until he knew for certain she was gone.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Emma.

#Courtorderedcake #September #2020 #September 23rd 2020 #hallow #My writing #Captain swan #captain swan au #CSSNS #cssns 2019 #CS AU #CS FF #CS FF AU #23rd

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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Stifling the Howling Wolves

Summary: “Quid Pro Quo, Agatha. Consider it a friendly gesture of sorts. You give me what I want and I’ll return the favor.” The Count offered her a toothy grin and even though she was safe behind the prison wall, the nun still felt a shiver run down her spine. “And what would that be?” She inquired, maintaining her calm, collected state. “I’d love to learn more about you,” he answered simply. “In exchange for your blood, I will tell you everything. Just a small amount. The offer stands.” She thought hard. Harder than she’d ever had. They were losing time. Mina’s life was in mortal danger. She had to make the decision now. “Okay,” she agreed. “You have a deal.”

Ship: Dracula/Agatha

Rating: M (may eventually be change to Explicit)

“Silence of the Lambs!Dragatha”

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Firstly, I want to say welcome! I'm so stoked to be taking on an idea like this! This is dedicated to @mitsukatsu because it's one of her favorite movies and she's been here since day one of planning this. Also almost all characters used in this story are from the show! I really love incorporating all of them in. Anyway, sit back, relax, and enjoy! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated -Jen

Chapter One

Budapest, Hungary

Agent Philip Sokolov wasn't at all bothered by the icy air as he stepped out of the black vehicle and onto the stone walkway. After all, he'd served in the British Royal Navy and knew the cold like the back of his hand. Adjusting the file folder in his grasp, the man's eyes fixed forward, taking in the sight of the large, stone abbey that lay before him. St. Mary's Convent of Budapest, Hungary. A decent sized monastery tucked away from society and the thrills of modern day life. Yet despite this, it hadn't taken him long to locate what he was looking for. Or rather, who.

"Do you really think she'll be able to help? She's a nun after all."

For a Mobile Surveillance Officer, Olgaren tended to stick out like a sore thumb. He was tall, towering nearly fifteen centimeters above the other man and quite burly. And on one or more occasions, his "mouth of a sailor" had gotten him in trouble. Despite this, he had been a reliable and loyal partner, probably one of the only people Sokolov entrusted his life with. But his skepticism on the agent's judgement that day wasn't exactly the most welcoming. Especially since he could very well be putting his job on the line.

"She's our last resort," Sokolov explained as they walked up the long pathway towards the main gate. "If there's the slightest chance she can get something out of him, I'm willing to take it." The two men stopped at the entrance, the former captain now holding the officer's gaze. "Agatha Van Helsing is our only hope."

Olgaren's lips pressed into a firm line, but he offered Sokolov a nod. Further questioning would have to wait. In front of them on the opposite side of the gate, a woman was approaching. Her face was round, framed by a white habit that fell against her dusty blue robes. Sokolov smiled as genuinely as one could as the head nun stopped in her tracks.

"I see you made it here safely," she commented, her eyes looking both men up and down. "The roads can be treacherous."

"We managed just fine," he agreed. "I believe we talked on the phone a few days ago? You're Mother Superior if I'm not mistaken?" Sokolov began to fish in his pants' pocket with his free hand retrieving his wallet. "These are my credentials. I'm from the United Kingdom's Security Service, MI5. Thank you for being so cooperative with us."

"I didn't think I had much of a choice," Mother Superior replied, unlatching the gate. "I must admit I am still confused as to your reasoning for coming here. Besides, of course, wishing to call upon one of my nuns." She took a step back, allowing them passage. "You must understand my concern seeing as our convent has no association with England."

"I apologize for the lack of disclosure. Believe me, if I could, I would answer your questions. But this is a matter of national security. My orders were to talk to Sister Agatha, and to Sister Agatha alone." He gave the woman a sympathetic look to which she merely frowned in response. "Does she know we're coming?"

"She's expecting you, yes." Mother Superior spoke, motioning for them to follow her. "I'll take you to her quarters. I believe she's in there now."

Sokolov had begun to notice multiple pairs of eyes watching him as he made his way down the cloister. Nuns had begun to appear, standing their distance as they whispered to one another. It made him feel strangely uneasy. It wasn't like they were going to do anything. If he had been in their situation, he'd stare too. Doing his best to stay focused, he met the head nun's surprising fast pace until they stood in front of a door.

"She's in there," Mother Superior nodded. "I suppose I'll leave you to your visit then."

The woman turned on her heels and walked away leaving both Sokolove and Olgaren to their own bidding. The taller man glanced over his shoulder before looking back at his partner with a shrug. Sokolov found himself absentmindedly readjusting the folder in his grasp before he raised a fist and gently wrapped on the door.

"Come in."

The door let out a soft creak as the man pushed it open. The room was small, simple with a bed, book shelf, and a desk squeezed into a corner. To Sokolov, it seemed to be a rather boring set up. Then again, this wasn't a lifestyle he'd have chosen.

"You look surprised."

Sokolov's attention turned to a woman, much younger than Mother Superior, sitting at the table. She seemed rather relaxed all things considered, her blue eyes bright, lips curved into a smile. When she stood up, the nun was the first to extend her hand in greeting. Sokolov took it and for a moment was a little taken aback with how strong her grip was.

"If I may apologize for being blunt, but might I ask why you are here?" Agatha smiled looking at either men. "I'm assuming I haven't broken the law. If I had, I think it'd be Hungarian authorities after me, not some men from England."

"No ma'am, you haven't done anything wrong," Agent Sokolov explained quickly. "My name is Agent Sokolov and this my partner-"

"Yes, yes, I know who you are. Mother Superior did inform me that you'd be visiting." The nun said with the wave of her hand. "But I'd like to know what brings you to here." She motioned around her as if to emphasize her point. "You've come a long way."

"Sister Agatha…"

"Please," the woman smiled. "Just Agatha will suffice. No need for such formalities."

"Agatha," the agent corrected. "I suppose there isn't a best way to jump into this discussion, so I'll get right to it. You are the distant relative of Abraham Van Helsing? The vampire hunter?"

"Something tells me you aren't asking me because you want to write a book." The woman replied after a long moment, studying both men's expressions. "Yes, Abraham was my great, great, grandfather. I am very well versed in his history."

"So you know about vampires?" The man ventured.

"Well yes." Agatha chuckled, looking rather amused as if waiting for the punchline of a joke. "But many people do, don't they? While I did grow up being told the legend of my grandfather, one can simply google about the creatures."

"What about Count Dracula?"

The smile faded away from Agatha's face, her expression changing to one of uncertainty. "What about Count Dracula?" As if suddenly concerned by the appearance of her bookshelf, she began to rearrange her books. "He was just a story. Just as all of the other ones were. He never existed."

"But you don't really believe that to be the case, do you?" Sokolov watched as Agatha seemed to hesitate, one hand resting on the wooden case. "Agatha, we're here to tell you that Count Dracula is in fact alive and is being detained in England. Has been for many years now."

She was silent for a moment. "That's not possible." Agatha turned, facing the agents once more. "Count Dracula was said to have died on The Demeter. His body was never recovered, but there was no evidence that he had survived."

"Dracula is a very intelligent and highly skilled man-if you even want to call him that," Olgaren frowned. "He was finally caught in England three years ago when one of his victims managed to escape. Jonathan Harker. When we were able to locate and imprison him at a highly secure facility, we believed that to be the end of things. We paid the Harker family a lump sum of money to remain quiet about what Dracula was and that was that. No need to get the public up in arms. Life had resumed to normal."

"Until very recently," Sokolov finished. "When new cases began to show up. Strange murders that, in a sense, mirrored Dracula's. But at the same time they were different. More...ritualistic. Agatha," he exhaled, looking directly into her eyes. "We believe we are dealing with another vampire. A serial killer at that."

He held out the case file towards Agatha. She eyed it for a moment almost hesitant before accepting it. Sokolov watched as she flipped through its contents, her brow furrowing as she studied the papers from within. After a while she looked up, closing the folder as she did so.

"So why is the MI5 coming to me?" The woman questioned, not offering the file back to Sokolov. "I'm not my grandfather."

"Dracula refuses to talk to anyone," the agent responded, looking from Olgaren and back to the nun. "We're hoping that maybe he'll speak to you. Because of who you are. We need to catch the killer before things get really out of hand and we think that Dracula knows more than he's telling us. That information in the folder alone is what we have on Dracula. If you agree to come with us, we can share with you everything that we can. You'll have our entire archive at your disposal." He inhaled, his tone almost pleading. "England needs you, Agatha. Won't you help?"

XXX

Agatha could count on how many times she'd ridden in a plane on one hand. Her most recent, being many years ago, when she left Holland to join St. Mary's in Hungary. As the plane took off, she relaxed in her seat and gazed out the window as the ground was replaced by the cloud covered sky. It felt surreal leaving the convent. Saying goodbye to her sisters she'd known for so long. But it felt even more bizarre finally having the confirmation that Count Dracula, her family's one true enemy, was alive. Something she had begun to give up hope in learning that was true.

"I want to thank you again for coming."

Sokolov's smile was warm as he took the seat beside her. She straightened up, turning her body to face him. Methodically, he pushed another folder over the tray table towards her. On the opposite side of the plane, Olgaren was fast asleep, snoring rather loudly. Doing her best to block the noise out, she took the file and opened it.

Agatha would be lying if she didn't admit that her stomach immediately twisted at the picture that lay before her. A woman, skin so pale it was almost translucent, was stretched across a long, metal table. Against her own better judgement, she flipped to the next picture. This time she was looking at the neck. At the flawless skin defiled by a set of sharp, fang like marks that dug deep within the flesh. Again she turned to the next image, feeling the bile begin to rise into the back of her throat. Right in the middle of the chest was a large hole as if something big had been shoved into it, penetrating past the rib cage and into the heart itself.

"Kathleen Piper." Sokolov explained as the nun took a moment to collect herself, closing the folder. "She was his second victim, found floating in the Thames. Completely drained of her blood. Based on the particles we found within her chest cavity, the object is always made of wood."

"A stake," Agatha said quietly. "He stakes them."

"We believe so, yes," Sokolov agreed. "Almost as if he is trying to keep them from turning. We don't understand his motive behind that. There's a lot we don't understand which is why we need you." He folded his onto the table. "We've dubbed him the Midnight Slayer. It lacks creativity, but he does only seem to kill at night. All of his victims so far have been young women."

"And that's the reason you've been led to believe he has to be a man?" The woman questioned, a slight frown forming on her lips.

"No," the agent sighed. "It's because the only detail Dracula ever offered up was that we were looking for a man. That's how we know the Count has more information on the case. Which is why we need you. Because maybe he'll open up more to you more than he has to anyone else." He exhaled, running a hand through his graying hair. "Because you're a Van Helsing."

She stared out the window for a bit, watching as the white clouds floated by. Just hours ago, she was just a nun. Living a quiet life, left to her own devices. But now she was being pulled into a horror of a mess. Chaos that involved Count Dracula himself. A monster she had believed to be dead after years and years of researching. And though she wished she could just turn around. Pretend that this never happened. Her curiosity, ambition, and aggravating need to do what's right overweighed that.

"I'll help however I can." She responded, finally returning her attention to Sokolov. "But don't expect any miracles."

The man chuckled at her words. "An odd statement coming from a nun. Aren't you supposed to believe in that sort of thing?"

"I'm not your average sister." Agatha with a small smile, watching as the plane began to descend towards the airstrip below. "Far from it."

"Well, I should hope as much," he agreed. "We certainly do need that." Sokolov sighed, leaning back in his chair momentarily allowing his eyes to close. "We certainly do."

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Stifling the Howling Wolves

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gimmeyoon · 5 years

Text

Law of Engagement

↳ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader | mentions of Seokjin x reader from part 1

↳ Setting: Prince AU (Laws of Love: Part 2)

↳ Word Count: 7.2k

↳ Warnings: oral (f & m), fingering, cum eating, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends), angst and politics, mentions of death

❝Two years after your father declared the embargo on Jihye, and the two countries are ready to move forward together. Though the Kims regrettably cannot attend your country’s annual rose festival, a clear snub to your father despite the mending relationship, the rest of the royals make their way to Jonglyu. The only person people seem to be talking about more than you, is the youngest Jeon as rumors swirl that he is to be married soon, yet none of the ladies can seem to get within a meter of him.❞

A/N: This is an OT7 series. In theory you can read this chapter without reading the first, but I do mention the last chapter so you might be confused at parts.

A/N 2: I drove back from my hometown today and I am exhausted so this is less edited than usual. Sorry for any mistakes, but I will fully edit it again by the end of the week.

Prev | Next

You used to love royal balls. You were naive then, distracted by the pretty dresses and extravagant decor. You would happily drink wine and talk with your friends. The entire group hasn't been together in two years.

That means you haven't seen Seokjin in two years either.

Your countries never went to war, thank the gods, but it's taken time to get back to your favorable relations. Supposedly things are back to normal, but your brother stormed out angrily when the letter came that the Kims would not be in attendance at this year's Rose Festival. It is the most important celebration in your kingdom, and was surely meant to be a snub. It worked on your brother, but not on your father.

No the king was happy to remember that this was much better than war.

People still believed your father had tried to trick the Kim King, he hadn't. He had no intentions on supporting King Adrian, and he had told him as such. That doesn't stop the royals in attendance from gossiping.

They always gossip when you're around. You try to ignore it. It's harder at balls.

You're the un-marriable girl now. The worst possible outcome for the daughter of a king. You like to think dead would be up there, but apparently the royals see being an old maid as worse than death.

Your father hasn't pushed you get get engaged again, but that's not what they say about you. No they all said that no one wanted to marry the girl of the lying king. As if all the other kings were constantly telling the truth and nothing but it.

"Poor thing," they whispered as you walked by. "Her father might as well send her to a convent."

Let them think that. You were not bothered by the opinions of others. Your father had raised you to be stronger than that. Or, at least, you were trying to be.

"There he is," one of the ladies at your table says, causing you to follow their gaze.

It's the Jeon princes, but the ladies don't watch the future king. No, they are all looking at Jungkook like he is a prize to be won. You suppose maybe he is, like you once were.

"He's to be married soon," the other says.

"My cousin tried to talk to him when his family came for their winter festival, but whenever she tried to get near him, he disappeared."

"I'd heard he was impossible to talk to."

"Good thing I like a challenge."

"He has that mysterious, misunderstood spare prince quality that makes me swoon," the first jokes, falling into her friend with a laugh.

You can't help but snort at the thought of your sweet friend Jungkook being a mysterious, misunderstood prince.

They turn to look at you, clearly displeased at your interjection, but you're tired of their gossip and have no desire to apologize or feed into their conversation, so you stand with a small smile, bidding them leave.

You make your way to the Jeons feeling their eyes burning into the back of your head. It is your kingdom after all, you should welcome your guests to the celebration.

"Princess _____," the King greets, a small bow of his head as you approach them.

"It's lovely to have you with us," you respond hugging both the Jeon princes, wondering for a moment if the ladies are murdering you in their hearts.

"It's lovely to be here," Daeseong replied.

"Have you seen the rose displays yet?" you ask, knowing well that the Jeons have no interest in joining you to look at roses.

"We haven't," Daeseong said, looking quickly at his father.

"Well, I would love to show them to you if you would join me."

"We should really greet the Jungs," the King said, "but Jungkook can accompany you."

The youngest Jeon stiffens at the veiled command. You know as the spare he must constantly be asked to do the things his father and brother have little interest in. You yourself are familiar. Maybe even more so as a princess.

"I would like that," he said, as he offered you a smile and his arm.

You fight the urge to shoot a look at the ladies you left behind as your hand rests on his bicep like you know they have dreamed of doing.

Jungkook does a great job pretending to be enthused about roses as you explain their history in your kingdom to him. When you laugh abruptly, he looks over at you confused.

"I'm sorry," you said, waving your hand in front of your face as you tried to regain your composure. "I know you don't care about this, I just wanted to get out of there," you added, motioning to the castle behind you.

Jungkook looks relieved as he smiles back at you. "Good. They all were staring at me anyways and I hate that."

"I think I'm getting used to it."

"Really?" Jungkook asked as he sat down on one of the marble benches in the garden. "I don't think I ever will. I don't think I was made for this," he adds a chuckle to the end of that statement to soften the blow of it.

"You did a very good job pretending to like the flowers."

He smiles at this. "And what else is there to royalty besides pretending."

"I used to think there was more," you admit, sitting down next to him.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asked. "Let me guess, that was about two years ago or so."

You laugh at this. "I think love will do that to you."

"I'm sorry."

You turned to face him. "Why are you sorry?"

He shrugged as he looked down at his hands. "I've heard the rumors about you," he said instead, not answering your question.

"Ah, yes. That I was cursed at birth and no man will ever marry me let alone love me."

"I don't think it was phrased exactly like that."

"Do you believe them?"

"No," he said quickly and firmly, looking up at you.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you as you turn to look out at the garden. You can still see families arriving over the edge of the furthest hill.

"I was always jealous of the other royals," Jungkook said, drawing your attention back to him. "They all talked to you so easily and even when they forced the two of us together for being the youngest, I could barely say anything."

"That's not true. We talked."

"I always felt like I was watching you and them, sort of on the outside. I thought you were the nighest person in the whole world," he turned to face you as he said that. "You are the nicest person I've ever met. The world is not nice to kind people."

You nod your head in agreement at this, him having said all that could be on the matter. He was right. You had tried so hard to do what people wanted you to do and the world repaid you by ripping your heart from your chest and stomping on it.

"My father is marrying me off to someone on the continent," he admits.

"Are you okay with that?"

Jungkook shrugs. "I don’t really have a choice."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" he said, a smile on his lips as he echoes your earlier question.

"_____," you brother said, causing you and Jungkook to turn back towards the castle. If he's surprised to find you alone with the youngest Jeon he doesn't show it. "We're about to do the opening toast."

"Right," you said standing and smoothing out the tulle of your pink gown. "I'll see you later," you said to Jungkook as you moved to follow your brother inside.

You're not certain but you think you hear Jungkook say 'I hope so,' and it makes you giggle as you rejoin your family. It had been so long since you actually wanted to hang out with anyone else.

Maybe Jungkook was wrong. Maybe he was the nicest person in the whole world. He was to you in this moment.

You're in a red gown the next day, a choice you had known would cause even more whispers than usual when your lady's maid Jiah revealed it to you. When you requested another gown, she shook her head, before revealing that every design she had chosen was in red.

"You are a rose, princess. Do not wither because of them."

So you were drawing the eyes of the island's royals as you boldly wore the color of a harlot, or so you had heard as the Park queen moved past you. She herself was dressed in the usual silver of her kingdom. Your mother always called it tacky.

You were a rose and you reminded yourself of that as you joined your brother on the stage to announce the winners of the rose festival this year. From your point on the stage, you could see Jungkook hiding his face in a drink on the edge of the party. For a moment you think that if you didn't know better you too would mistake his shyness for mystery. His jaw is strong as he no doubt hides from the other royals. You think you could almost be intimidated by him.

But then your eyes meet and he offers you a smile that reminds you he's just trying to survive as much as you are.

When you crown this year's winner, a woman you know well from the village, you almost sigh in relief because this is the last moment you are required to spend with everyone's eyes on you. As the ball finally begins, you watch Jungkook slip out of the ballroom into the hallway, and with a quick wave to your brother, you quietly follow after him. He jumps when you open the door to the balcony you find him on, but visibly calms down once he turns to see it's you.

"You’re supposed to rescue me as well when you leave."

He smiles shyly, his ears turning red. "My apologies, princess. I have failed the crown today."

"You are forgiven, sir," you replied, lifting your face haughtily and offering your hand to him. He laughs as he lightly kisses your hand, earning a faux nod of authority from you, before you laugh as well. The two of you stand side-by-side on the balcony together in silence, looking out over the lake behind your castle.

"I hope I can come back next year."

You turned to look at him. "Yes, you do seem like you’re having lots of fun."

He shakes his head. “I don’t feel like I can be myself in there. I have to be whoever they think I am," he turns to look at you. "But I think I can be myself with you. I think I always thought that about you. I think that’s why I was so jealous my brother got to talk to you and I just had to follow behind and hope someone pushed the spares together.”

“I hope you can come back next year too," you replied, not sure how to express exactly how nice it was to hear that. It had been so long since anyone had said nice things about you, but it seemed Jungkook couldn't stop.

“Will you be here?”

“Or will I be married off like you?”

He nods at this.

“My father isn’t pushing me towards marriage right now, I think he feels guilty. But, who knows. Maybe I’ll be on the continent like you.”

“Then if neither of us can make it back here, we will have our own festival on the continent," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled widely.

You think better than to mention how large the continent is.

"What was it like in Jihye?" he asked breaking the silence that had fallen between you once again.

"Why? Is Ganghan planning a war?" Jungkook's face lets you know that he is not impressed by this.

"It's forbidding," you said, deciding that if you're time in that kingdom was for nothing, you might as well risk Jungkook probing you for information.

"Very different from here then."

"Yes," you said as you nodded your head. "Seokjin," you paused to try and pull yourself together. You hadn't talked much about the event, and some wounds still hurt as badly as they had that day.

"Seokjin may be the future king, but he is not in charge of anything."

"Better the flower," Jungkook with a nod of support to keep going.

"I didn't understand that phrase really until I got back here. Prince Namjoon and the King would send papers back and forth at dinner. As far as I know, Seokjin didn't see a single official document while I was there, and he seemed happy about it."

"My father thinks Seokjin will abdicate once the King dies."

"Maybe," you said with a shrug, not able to truly add more to that guess. "Namjoon knew what was going to happen to me," you admit, as you watch a bird pull a fish from the lake.

"Daeseong heard that from Hani," Jungkook said. "Namjoon asked her if he could send you to their Kingdom."

"What?" you asked, a bit too loudly as you turned to Jungkook.

"You were closer to Nolyeog's port than your own," Jungkook said, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Hani said he thought his father might change his mind in the amount of time it would take you to get back, and they have ships fast enough to catch up with yours. I've seen them."

Your body breaks out in goosebumps despite knowing that it's been two years and you are safely home in your own country. You thank the gods that the Kim's declined your invitation. You're not sure you will ever feel safe in their presence again.

"I didn't know about that," you said quietly as you turn back towards the lake.

"He must have known you were safe since he didn't have the boat take you to Nolyeog."

Or he didn't care what happened to you in the end. No, you remind yourself. He tried his best. There are days when you hate Namjoon but mostly there are days when you realize he might have saved your life. Jiah had repeatedly said so on the ship home. Maybe she had known that you weren't safe then and was trying to convince herself.

"So, what will you do with my depressing tale of Jihye," you asked, trying to bring humor back to the conversation.

"I wasn't asking you to get information," Jungkook said knocking his shoulder against yours. "I'm just being a friend. I think we both need those."

"You have always been my friend," you replied, looking up at him.

"And you have always been mine, or at least I had always hoped we were."

"Have more confidence in yourself, Jungkook," you said, knocking into him this time. "You are a great friend and you are not as awkward as you think."

"Thank you," he said, a shy smile on his face. "Also," he said, turning to look at you with mirth in his eyes. "I wanted to hear your story before I go to the continent. That way whenever I think my life is the worst, I'll remember your life, and thank the gods I wasn't born as you."

"Nevermind," you said, elbowing him in the side. "you are not a good friend and you are the most awkward person I've ever met."

Jungkook only laughed in response as you glared at him.

"I hope my trauma will keep you warm at night," you said as you leaned against the rail of the balcony.

"And I hope life is good to you while I'm gone," he said, copying your motion. "You deserve that now."

"Thanks, Jungkook."

You can't sleep. Under the duvet you feel like you're inside a sauna. Throwing the duvet off, suddenly you're in an ice box. No matter which side of your body you sleep on, you ache. It's pointless, you're not going to get any sleep tonight.

So instead, you get out of bed and start pacing around your room, trying to think of something to do to pass the time. Your brain won't shut up though. It's all bad memories and thoughts of what your life is to be now. In the two years since your life changed forever, you're still not sure what that means for who you are to become. Sometimes being the old maid living in your family's castle seems like your new dream life. Other times it feels like a lonely prison.

Right now it feels like a lonely prison. You think it might be because Jungkook leaves tomorrow. You hadn't spent much time with anyone outside of the castle in the last two years and now the first person to make you want to go out and live your life again is leaving. Soon he'll be gone for forever perhaps. People don't often visit the island from the continent.

Before you can think better of it you're running down to your mother's office to find her list of room arrangements. Jungkook will be on the west side of the castle with the rest of the visiting royals, but you can't possibly just knock on all of the doors until you find him. No, you need to know where your mother placed him.

It's a bad idea, you know that as you walk to his room. If anyone else happens to be awake and sees you on this end of the castle, it won't matter if they know who you came to see, they already know too much.

The Park Queen would love nothing more than to be right about your harlot status. You suppose she would think you one anyways if she found out how far you and Seokjin went in your relationship.

You knock quietly, perhaps too quietly because even if he is awake he might write it off as his mind playing tricks on him. So you knock a little louder. You think he must be asleep because of how long you've waited, and you're just about to leave when the door opens.

Your eyes instantly shoot down to his bare torso and you try your best to casually look back up as if you weren't just gawking at his shirtless figure. You've never been more certain why his kingdom is known for its strength until now, You had no idea how literal it was.

“Princess?” he whispered, the candle in his hand the only thing illuminating his confused face.

“I can’t sleep, and I was hoping you couldn’t either.”

He smiles, his half-open eyes already letting you know that you've woken him up. “I could, but since you’re here and I’m awake now, come on in.”

You look around to ensure no one has seen you, before following him into his room.

"Why can't you sleep?" he asked as he grabbed a shirt tossed over one of the chairs in the room.

You sit in the other as you try your best to give him his privacy while he covers himself. "A whole list of reasons, but I would guess my brain is the biggest culprit."

"Ah, to be a beautiful idiot," he said with a laugh as he sat down in the chair he removed his shirt from.

"It's all this thinking that gets me in trouble," you agree as you laugh easily with him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," you said with a shake of your head. "I want to talk about something else. Get my mind off of it all."

"Okay," Jungkook said, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at towards the ceiling in thought. "What do you want most in life?" he asked as his eyes met yours once again.

"I was thinking more light-hearted, no stakes kind of questions, Jeon."

"Just answer it," he said with a huff.

"To be happy," you replied. "I want my country to do well and I want to help them with that."

"And that will make you happy?"

"Yes," you said, looking off out the window of his room. You can just make out the garden in the moonlight. "I love Jonglyu. I would do anything to make them proud, to make this place prosper."

"I think they are already proud of you," he said.

"What about you?" you asked, looking back at him. "What do you want most?"

"To be happy," he said, a teasing smile on his face. "It has never mattered to anyone if I was though."

"I hope you are happy."

"I hope you are too."

"What would make you happy, Jungkook?"

He seemed to ponder this for a moment as he rested his head in his hand. "I hope I like the family and the place my father chooses for me. I have no hopes of loving my wife, though I think it is possible, but at least I want to like her and her family."

"I don't think that is too much to ask."

"Yet, it is often too much to hope for."

You nodded your head as silence fell between the two of you as you left the words unsaid. They didn't need to be said. It was better if they weren't. You had come here to not think about such things.

"I think I'll get married," you finally said. "I thought I could just live here and die old and alone, but I think I will always regret not helping Jonglyu with a prosperous marriage."

"No one would blame you if you didn't," he said, the look he gave you more serious than you had ever seen the youngest of your friends.

"I know," you said offering him a small smile. "I think, maybe, that if I don't get married they win."

Jungkook nodded his head, encouraging you to continue.

"Jonglyu will stay a small, poor country, and I'll have to watch Seokjin with whoever he marries for the rest of my life anyways. I might as well try my best to hurt them too, right?"

"Hurt them?"

"I'd marry anyone as long as Jonglyu would come out a stronger nation than before. I want them to know that they didn't break us like they tried to. That'll hurt the king the most."

"Well, if I could help you I would. My dad hates Jihye anyways, he'd love to get back at the king."

"Your dad hates Jihye because of the male obsession with size."

"And rightly so," Jungkook defend as he smiled widely. "We're the bigger country."

"And the Jeon men never shut up about it."

"Well when it's worth bragging about," Jungkook said, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Prince Jeon Jungkook of Ganghan," you said with a gasp, a smile spreading wide across your face. "You are supposed to be shy, if I recall correctly."

"It's very late, I cannot be held accountable for the things I say," he laughed, leaning back in his chair as he stretched his arms above his head and yawned as if to further send home the point that it was very late. You tried not to stare too long at the sliver of skin that got exposed just above his hips.

"So there is a chance people will blame me if I choose not to get married?"

"I didn't say I was lying because it was late at night," he said, his eyes meeting yours again. "Everything I've said is true, it's just a matter of if it should have been said in polite company or not."

"I'm not sure we're polite company."

Jungkook tilted his head to side at this, looking at you as if he was studying you. "Then what are we, princess?"

You shrug in response, not entirely sure what you had meant by your comment. Sure, you and Jungkook were royalty and thus polite society, but it seemed like both of you didn't easily fit into the molds they forced on you. Or, you guess for much of your life both of you did so without questioning them, but now you wanted answers to all the things you should have asked before. Before all of this pain.

"Why did you come here tonight?"

"I couldn't sleep," you said, not dropping his gaze, though it felt more intense than before and sent a heat up your neck.

"And you thought I could help you?"

"Or at least keep my company."

"Why me?" He asked.

"I think you and I have much in common."

"I agree," he said with a nod, finally tearing his gaze from you. "I hope you don't forget me when I'm gone."

"Never," you said, causing him to look back at you.

You're pretty sure that you had only pure intentions when you searched for your friend tonight, but you also think that the moment you saw his naked torso your mind began to wander, and then the way he just looked at you. It all combined has you standing from your seat and walking towards him.

His eyes are wide as you stand before him, but his hand reaches out for yours in the dark of the room.

"Do you feel totally and utterly alone?"

"Usually," he breathed, his thumb rubbing circles in the palm of your hand. "Not so much the past few days."

"Me too," you said, tugging his hand lightly to prompt him to stand up. "I don't want to feel alone tonight."

"Me either."

Your free hand came to rest on his broad chest as you looked up at him. Jungkook seemed to melt into your touch, his face stopping mere centimeters from yours.

"This is mine," you said, your hand moving to caress the side of his face. "They can't tell me what to do here and now. This is my choice."

Jungkook nods his head, before his own hand moves to push your hair behind your ear. "Are you sleeping with me to get back at the world?" he asked, a smirk dancing across his lips.

"And if I am?"

"It would be my pleasure to say fuck you to the world together and fuck you, princess."

You snort at his words, about to tease him for it, when his lips crashed into yours, causing whatever retort you had to disappear. Soon your lips are matching his, the ferocity in both of your movements showing the truth in his words. It felt invigorating doing something that neither of you should. Something that they would all ridicule you for.

Good. You thought. Give them a real reason to stare.

Your hands trailed down his body, Jungkook smiling as they brushed over the expanse of his chest, and once you reached the hem of his shirt, you tentatively lift it up, hoping to rid him of the damn thing. He never should have put it back on to begin with.

Jungkook pulled away to help you take it off, quickly tugging it over his head, the two of you laughing at how fast you moved. Everything about this had your heart racing and you take a breath to try and calm down.

"I swear it's not my first time," he laughed as he untied your silk robe, the two of your working together to push it off your shoulders. "Though I'm not so sure my haste makes that believable," he said, as the garment hit the floor, leaving you in only your thin nightgown.

"I believe you," you said as you reach for the waist of his pants, getting to work on the button. Again Jungkook is quick to help you and as soon as he steps out of his slacks, you get on your knees before him. He looks down at you with a boldness you have never seen from him and an admiration you haven't seen in a long time.

You take his cock into your hand, thinking for a moment that it's now the second you've seen, and you have to force yourself not to think about the fact that's it's a little bit smaller than Seokjin's, because you don't want to think about him right now.

You wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around the head, and Jungkook's head rolls back in response as he lets out a sound of contentment. Pleased with the reaction you elicited, especially after it having been so long since you has been with a man in this way, you confidently take more of him in. Jungkook's hand cups the side of your face as he looks down at you with a smirk.

The look is quickly erased from his face, as you take him further, causing Jungkook to groan as his hand moves from the side of your face to your hair. You swallow around him, causing Jungkook to moan loudly as his cum flooded your mouth. The prince helped you to your feet, pulling you into a frenzied kiss as his hands found the hem of your night gown, breaking the kiss only to pull the thin material over your head.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as the two of you pressed your lips and bodies together, Jungkook's hands resting on your hips as he slowly walked the two of you over to his bed. He pushed you down to lay among the silk and satin before kneeling between your legs and pressing a kiss to your stomach, your hip, and then your clit. He looked up at you with a smirk as you moaned, before bringing his head back down between your legs, his tongue beginning a rolling motion on your clit.

He inserted two fingers inside of your cunt, laughing when your hips bucked closer to his face at this, and leaned back to look at you as his other hand worked on your clit.

"Oh gods, don't stop," you said, your hands gripping at the sheets around you as you let the pleasure wash over you.

Jungkook laughed in response, pressing a kiss to your hip before looking back at you. "Anything for you, your highness."

"Treachery," you said, though your joke was lost slightly as a moan followed it.

"Yeah?" he asked, his fingers moving more quickly as he said this. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm sure you can find refuge in Jonglyu, oh god, you have a very valuable skill, fuck, set."

"Princess," he said. "you usually are so eloquent, what's gotten into you?"

"You," you replied, your head falling back into the pillow as you felt your orgasm approaching. "Jungkook," you breathed, your hands gripping tighter at the sheets.

"Cum, _____. I know you want to."

At his words you felt your core tighten as you reached your peak, and as you let go, your orgasm washed over you, your body relaxing into the bed as Jungkook removed his hands from your body. You felt him settle above your body, and when you opened your eyes, he was looking down at you with a smile.

"Do you have anymore fucks to give?" he asked, a large grin on his face.

"To you, Jeon, or to the royal standards I am forced to uphold?"

"Well I assume the answer is mutually exclusive."

"True," you said, giggling as you turned away from him, his cute expression causing butterflies to flutter in your chest. "I think I would like to say 'fuck you' one more time," you answered as you ground your body against his erection.

"Thank the gods," he said as he reached between the two of you to stroke his cock.

"Thank me," you teased, leaning up to kiss him again.

Jungkook smiled widely as you pulled away his head tilting slightly to the side as he seemed to examine you. "Thank you, indeed," he said as he pushed the head of his cock between your folds. "Gods," he cursed as he thrust deeper in. "Is now the right time to tell you you were my teenage wet dream or not?"

"Are you saying I'm not anymore?" you asked, your breath hitching as he finally slid all the way in.

"Why dream, when I can have the real thing?" he smirked, his composure stuttering as you clenched at his words.

"Gods, please move," you said, your hands resting on his hips as you tried to encourage him.

"Anything," he breathed again, as he pulled out before thrusting deeply into you again.

"To bad we're both spares," you said as your hands gripped his arms, grounding yourself as his pace had you climbing back towards another orgasm.

"Why? Can't get enough of my cock?"

You hummed in agreement, before kissing his neck, sucking gently at the skin beneath his ear. "Could get used to it," you said.

"The gods are cruel," he agreed, grunting as his thrusts became sloppier.

"Weren't you just thanking them?"

"We have a complicated relationship," he laughed, as his hand moved to rub circles into your clit.

"Fuck, yes, right there," you said your previous banter getting lost as you felt yourself coming undone at his movements.

As your second orgasm hit you moments later, Jungkook pulled out of you. He stroked himself quickly, his cum raining over you moments later, landing across your breasts. As he panted above you, two of his fingers reached out to swipe up a strip of his semen before lightly pressing it to your lips. You sucked them into your mouth, Jungkook groaning as your tongue circled around them before swallowing his cum again.

"Still going to be my wet dream," he laughed, as he laid down beside you.

"I'm honored," you said, turning to face him. "I'll keep you company that way while you're on the Continent."

"Your service to the crown will not be forgotten."

"I guess I'm a traitor too," you laughed.

"I won't tell if you don't."

You don't spend the night. You can't, it would be frowned upon if you were caught, and neither of you need more scandals. Besides, neither of you is interested in pretending that was anything more than two lonely people looking to feel wanted, to feel understood just for a night. Maybe you used him to feel like your life was your own again, maybe that makes you a bad person. You're not sure it matters much to you either way. if you used him, he used you, and you're beginning to understand that the world you once saw through rose-colored glasses is nothing more than people using each other to get what they want. You had let yourself be a pawn in the royal game of chess for too long.

Last night you were a queen, you could do whatever the hell you wanted.

The two of you exchange small smiles in the courtyard as you head to join your family in entertaining the royal families in their last few moments in your kingdom. Those on the other side of the island we be leaving in only a few hours. Your first thought when you awoke this morning is that the Jeons would leave last, as one of the countries closest to your own.

"_____," your mother called, forcing you to turn away from Jungkook and wait to talk to him later. Duty calls, just as it always does.

"I was just telling the Parks that you would love to show Prince Jimin the mural in the library."

You go to raise an eyebrow, unsure why the Parks are interested in a painted wall, but think better of it and maintain decorum. "Of course," you said with a smile, as you turned to Jimin. He held the same level of royal pleasantness that you did, giving you no true indication as to how he felt about this exeunt.

You wonder for a moment if he knows how badly your mother wants you to marry into his family. You think she always has preferred Aleumdam, despite her insistence that the queen’s silver outfits were attention seeking, and you wouldn't be surprised if she had been relieved when your marriage with Seokjin was called off.

"So the mural?" you asked as the two of you reentered the castle.

"Apparently," Jimin said, turning to you with a smirk on his face. "My great great uncle was commissioned to paint that mural for your family many moons ago."

It had always amazed you how different he was when he wasn't around his family. He was bright and witty when you actually got to know him, something his mother must have deemed unbecoming of a prince at some point.

"Did they tell you what it was of?" you asked, holding back laughter as you rounded the corner to the library.

"No, only that I 'must see it in person, darling. It truly is the most special piece of art.'"

"Well, I hate to speak poorly of your great great uncle," you said, as you opened the door to the library. "but it's not going to change your life." You gestured to the mural as the two of you entered, silence falling between the two of you as Jimin stared at the painting.

"It's roses," he said tilting his head to the side. "It's literally the same roses I was just standing outside next to."

"Yes," you said, giggling. "It truly is the most special piece of art."

"I mean, I knew they were just doing this to force us together," Jimin said turning to face you. "but they could have at least had the decency to pick a better excuse to try and veil their attempts."

"They? Oh I was certain, it was just my mother."

Jimin shook his head with a laugh. "It was all of them. My parents have been talking about you for the past three days. I'm kind of sick of you."

"I'm surprised, I was certain your mother hated me." You weren't entirely convinced otherwise if you were being honest.

"Maybe," Jimin said with a shrug, earning a scoff from you. "I would take it as a compliment if she did. She's obsessed with perfection."

"I should take not being perfect as a compliment?"

"Yes," Jimin said. "it means you're real. My mother is artificial."

"And you?" you asked. "Are you real or artificial."

Jimin smirked at this, shaking his head as he turned away to leave. "I'm 50-50," he called back to you.

"And which percent were you just then?" you asked, following behind him.

"That's for you to decide," he said with a wave as he headed in the opposite direction of the courtyard. You had half-a-mind to follow him, but you still wanted to find a moment to talk to Jungkook before he left, and now seemed as good a time as any.

Your mother doesn't see you as you walk past her on the 2nd floor balcony, and when you run into Jiah outside of the guest quarters, she only gives you a stern look before nodding her head to tell you to pass by her. You almost consider teasing her for treating a member of a royal family like that, but you think she might not be so forgiving of you shirking your responsibilities if you push her buttons.

Jungkook opens the door as soon as you knock, quickly ushering you in before checking the hallways to make sure no one saw you.

"Yes?" he asked as he turned to you with a smile after locking the door behind him.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you before you left," you said with a shrug as you sat down in the window seat in his room.

"I'm honored," he said, sitting on the corner of the bed across from you.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, feeling the room grow serious as soon as you asked it.

"How should I feel?" he asked his smile faltering slightly. "Nothing has been decided yet, _____. You can't get me off the island that easily."

"I know, I just.... I won't get the chance to talk to you then."

"No, I suppose not," he said, nodding his head. "Will your family attend the Summer Solstice in Nolyeog this year?"

"Yes," you said, perking up at the chance to see him again. "And yours as well?"

Jungkook nodded his head, but his face didn't match your excitement. "I may be gone by then," he admits.

"Oh," you said, looking over at the painting behind him. It's a lion, the symbol of his kingdom. Your mother is nothing if not attentive to details. "What was your favorite story as a kid?" you asked, turning your gaze back to him.

"The one where the mouse goes on a quest," he said, his wide bunny-like smile appearing again.

"Yeah?" you asked with a laugh. "Mine was Cinderella."

"Of course it was," he said, joining your laughter. "I bet you even tried to teach animals how to be your friends."

"Of course I did," you replied, your face morphing into faux shock as you pretended to be offended. "If I didn't have my own Gus Gus, what was the point of being born royalty?"

"Cinderella wasn't born royal," Jungkook countered as he leaned forward, his head coming to rest in his hand as he looked at you with amusement.

"Maybe that's why she got lucky and found true love."

"Honestly," Jungkook sighed. "I think you're right about that."

"Yeah, me too," you said, leaning your head against the window and looking up at the ceiling. "I never cared about being the spare until now."

"Me too."

"I thought not having to rule a country would be more fun, but it turns being the prized cow of the royal family is not all the glitz and glam it looked like."

"Prized cow," he snorted, shaking his head. "I feel more like the stud stallion, having his attributes touted to anyone who will listen."

"The attributes are pretty good," you said with a wink, earning a shy smile from Jungkook as his ears turned red.

"Not what I meant."

"You're the one who brought stud farming into the equation."

"I can't help it, that's just how I feel."

You nodded your head. "No you're right that's exactly what we are."

"Here to make more little royals, who will inevitably sit in a room together and say isn't living terrible when it's not even your life at all."

"It is terrible," you agreed with a sigh. "but I'm still going to do it."

Jungkook nodded as he looked at you with kind eyes.

"I would marry the most vile man in the world to help my country and make my family proud."

"I doubt your family would be proud of such a union," Jungkook said.

"So I'm being hyperbolic. The point stands, despite how much I hate this, I won't try to live any other way."

"I know," he said looking past you outside the window. "I won't fight it either. I was never very good at that anyways."

"Me neither."

And as silence falls between the two of you, you think that it has been a very long time since anyone has known you as well as Jungkook knows you now. But more importantly, it has been a very long time since you have known yourself as well as you do now.

#Jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #jungkook x reader #prince jungkook #bts royal au #laws of love #law of engagement

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tomeandflickcorner · 3 years

Note

So I have all OUAT choices.. Choose between:

Elsa and Emma friendship or Emma and Ruby friendship?

Peter Pan or Cora?

Arthur or Nimue?

Aurora or Philip?

Mulan or Merida?

Oh, quite the collection of choices! Thanks, Nony!

Elsa and Emma friendship or Emma and Ruby friendship?

Gotta go with Elsa and Emma. While Emma and Ruby had potential to become friends (and I think it goes without saying that Ruby would have been Emma’s godmother if things had gone the way they should have gone had Regina never cast the original Dark Curse), it sadly never developed. I can’t really remember them interacting much after the curse was broken and everyone got their memories back. Not that they had much of a chance to do so, as Emma got trapped in the Enchanted Forest shortly after the curse broke, and then she had to deal with the whole Neal was Rumpelstiltskin’s son thing, followed by Henry being kidnapped. By the time Emma had the opportunity to really rekindle the friendship she had started to build with Ruby in S1, the character in question was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Because she’d gone off on some soul searching quest we only found out about a season and a half later.

Elsa and Emma, on the other hand, were actually allowed to interact and form a legit friendship. It’s just a shame that Elsa never showed up again after the Frozen arc ended, because I consider her to be the first real friend Emma made. Well, apart from Killian of course. While it could be argued that Emma and S1 Mary Margret were friends, the fact that Mary Margret was actually Emma’s mother the whole time kinda complicates matters. (Particularly since that relationship went downhill once we reached S4.)

Peter Pan or Cora?

Ugh, that’s a tough choice. Honestly, I detest both of them! As far as the show’s Big Bads went, these were the two I had absolutely no sympathy for at all. (Well, them and Cruella, but that’s another story entirely.) Pan was a despicable father who chose to abandon his son in favor of age regression. Not even the reveal that he became that way after the way he lost Fiona, who he clearly loved, was enough to excuse his behavior. After all, he could have chosen to treasure his son as the only thing he had left of his wife. Instead, he blamed Baby Rumpy for Fiona going off the deep end. And he was downright creepy as Pan. As horrible as it might sound, I still feel he deserved the River of Lost Souls treatment. And Cora was even worse. I can’t even pretend to have a drop of sympathy for someone who would leave their newborn baby in the middle of the woods to die when there was nothing stopping her from simply leaving Baby Zelena with a kindly peasant couple. Yeah, I get her situation was not ideal, as she was a single unmarried mother in a medieval style world. But even that was kinda her own fault. I still feel that if she had came clean with Prince Leopold when she was given the chance to do so, he probably would have still married her. After all, he did seem to sincerely care about her. Instead, she continued to lie to him. And that’s what caused him to dismiss her. And then she went and became mentally and emotionally abusive to her second daughter, to the point where she murdered her boyfriend in cold blood because said daughter wasn’t willing to go along with her social climbing agenda. However, I guess I do have to give Cora a little bit of credit because she seems to have seen the error of her ways at the end and redeemed herself enough to cross over into whatever this show called Heaven. That probably should count for something.

Arthur or Nimue?

Also a tough choice, as neither of them were that likable. Especially when they allowed themselves to become what they became. But like with Cora, at least Arthur seemed to realize that he had been wrong in the end. (Unfortunately, not before he had a chance to properly apologize to Guinevere and everyone else he essentially subjected to his sick mind control.)

Aurora or Philip?

Probably going with Aurora here. Simply because we actually got to know her as a character. Aurora was clearly the prissiest most girly-girl princess on the show. But despite that, she was still shown to have the makings of a strong leader and ruler. Case in point that time when Cora tried to convince her to betray the rest of the Princess Squad. Instead of giving into Cora’s manipulation, Aurora had the fortitude to stand up to the older woman. I rather liked that, particularly as a feminist. This was a woman who was feminine and strong at the same time! Phillip, on the other hand? Did he even do anything in the show? All I can remember him doing is turning into the Yagwei, lifting the Sleeping Curse on Aurora, getting killed by the wraith (before being somehow saved from the wraith off camera- I’m still upset we never found out how they did that) and then turning into a flying monkey. Yeah, Phillip was mostly there as a plot point. Not much character development there.

Mulan or Merida?

Mulan. Hands down. She was a likable and interesting character, and my only complaint with her is that we never saw her get a happy ending/beginning. Obviously, her unrequited love for Aurora was never going to go anywhere, but then there was a missed opportunity for her to find love with Ruby, with the writers deciding Ruby would instead enter into an arguably rushed True Love relationship with Dorothy. (Eh, at least that leaves things open for my headcanon ship of Mulan/Tiger Lily). As far as Merida goes, however? Uh-uh. I HATED OUAT Merida. In fact, her characterization in the show actually ruined Brave for me. I can’t even think of that movie anymore without feeling utter rage. I’m afraid I’ll never get past that one scene where she was threatening to shoot an arrow at Dark Emma, despite the fact that Dark Emma was pretty much restrained and powerless at the time. That moment was the final nail in the coffin for me. Yeah, Dark Emma was not exactly nice to Merida. But when you get down to the nitty gritty, what Dark Emma did to Merida wasn’t too dissimilar to how Merida treated Belle in Camelot. (Remember how Merida kidnapped Belle to force her to help her out in freeing her brothers? And then justified it by pretty much saying ‘I didn’t think you’d agree to help me if I’d asked?’ How is that any different from what Dark Emma did? I am asking.)

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cupcakemolotov · 4 years

Text

Back to You

Anonymous said: How do you feel about time travel? Also I hope your shoulder feels better.

A big thank you to @goldcaught & @klarolinedrabbles for all of their help with getting this finished. And assuring me that this plot wasn’t too convoluted. For the anon who gave me the prompt, so sorry this took so long! hopefully 14.5K of fic makes up for the wait?

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Non-Canon Compliant, Time Travel, Mentions Murder & Torture, Blood Sharing, Hurt & Comfort (kind of), Bondage.

The lobby of the hotel she’d staggered into was ridiculously fancy. Shivering, Caroline ignored the side eye she received from the closest bellhop, as his frown was the least of her worries. Around her the marble floors amplified the soft murmur of voices, and for a moment it was like stepping into a different world.

Which wasn’t an entirely inappropriate metaphor.

Gaze sweeping the lobby, she sighed in relief and made a beeline for one of the large, fake fireplaces. The blizzard outside had been a seriously unwelcome surprise and she was super underdressed for the weather. The tumble she had taken into a snow drift when she’d crashed back into reality had left her annoyed and wet.

Winter sucked.

Thankfully she was wearing a jacket, but while cute, it was meant for a crisp autumn afternoon. Apple picking, hot chocolate with too many marshmallows. Pumpkin carving. Not this winter hellscape. Her boots were totally ruined, being neither waterproof nor practical for six inches of snow. Her toes were wet and freezing, her hair damp, and she was shaking like a junkie who needed a hit.

Although that wasn’t entirely from the snow.

Crowding close to the faux-fire that still produced heat, she set her teeth and took several deep breaths. Not for the first time did she mourn her inability to meditate. A little inner calm would have done her a world of good. Instead her bones ached, her skin buzzed, and she felt like a single misstep would her send her carenning back into the void.

God, she was so fucking thirsty.

Time travel was honestly the worst. No one really thought about the after effects of being tossed into the future without a by-your-leave, the way your body took time to catch up to reality while your bones tried to go one way and your brain another. She wasn’t sure a human would survive the experience; being a vampire barely left her equipped to deal with the spell.

But vampirism wasn’t a fix-all. Not for this. It should have kept her from feeling the effects of the bitter cold and damp hair, but she felt frozen down to her bones. Everywhere the cold had touched her skin, she’d broken out in goosebumps and the chattering of her teeth wasn’t entirely from the shock of being deposited in the future. Nothing really worked right after a skip. Her monster was there with its furious hunger, but her body needed time to catch up to things like not being bothered by the cold. So she shivered next to the fire, bones rattling with reaction to both cold and magic, and cursed the witches who had cast the spell.

Holding her trembling hands to the heat, she bit down on her lip when something pinged against her senses. It wasn’t an awareness, not truly, but she had no other words to define it. Bonnie hasn’t been able to describe what the sensation was supposed to feel like it or even if there would be one, but it seemed like she was in the right place afterall.

Good old Bonnie. Always right when it mattered most, no matter how wrong Caroline had hoped she’d be. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned some of the side effects of her curse, because this help she’d arranged? It had the potential to go wrong in all the worst ways.

Not that Klaus or her best friend had listened when she’d argued with their plan. Bonnie’s work to isolate the components of the curse that had left her as an unwilling time traveler had finally started to pay off. If only she hadn’t decided to use that knowledge to tie her to Klaus. Caroline had a sinking feeling that some of her carefully kept secrets were no longer going to be quite so secret in a few hours. He had been nosey before she’d started disappearing for years at a time. If their last argument had been anything to go by her little problem had only made his paranoia worse.

Rubbing her face, she sighed. She had no idea how much time she’d lost this skip. The raging storm outside kept her from finding out too much information, and she’d always found it difficult to pick out immediate changes if the skip was less than ten years. There was no point in asking someone for the date when she’d have answers to her questions soon enough.

Klaus was here, and would likely be looking for her very soon, if he hadn’t already started. She’d been promised that he’d know when she was close. Bonnie had said those words as if they should have made the situation better. It’d been a bit of a shock honestly, but the years she’d spent gone had apparently brought the two to some kind of careful truce. They didn’t particularly like each other, but they’d learned to tolerate and that was more than Caroline had thought would happen short of the apocalypse.

That awareness pinged again, softer this time, and she turned to look at the elevator banks. She still missed the old fashioned ding, hadn’t really adjusted to the near silent opening of doors, but she hadn’t needed it. Not with Bonnie’s magic insist on her skin. But the sight of Klaus, rumpled and intent, hit her low in the gut.

It had been just a little over a week since she’d last seen him. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but that hadn’t stopped her from missing him. Caroline had no idea how long it had been since he last saw her. The week of silence between them had been deliberate, an attempt to let tempers cool, but whatever time had disappeared in her skip had not. In the week she’d spent stewing, she hadn’t found the words to explain to him or Bonnie why she was so pissed by their bright idea.

Logically she knew she needed help. This curse was no small thing. She and Bonnie called her disappearances skips, as if she just jumped ahead and everything was fine, but nothing with magic was ever that easy. And there was nothing fun about it. She should have been grateful that Klaus and his endless network of witches and favors was there to help her. That he’d come looking when he’d realized something was wrong. But she had no idea how to say what she was upset about without it coming out wrong. And Klaus would take it whatever she did say in the worst possible way, his anger and insecurities grinding against her own. And yet despite all that, a part of her was thrilled to see him.

He was dressed as if he’d planned on going out or just returned, his suit pants and dress shirt still neat. Clothing fabric had changed over the decades, but Klaus always wore everything well. And the hint of leather at his throat, the way his shirt fit the width of his shoulders was as tempting as he’d always been.

Klaus didn’t give her much time to secretly ogle him. His gaze found hers almost before he existed the elevator, the edge of his iris going pale with his wolf. For a moment he paused, as if absorbing her shivering presence, and then Klaus was swiftly crossing the distance between them.

“Caroline,” Klaus said once he was close enough, his eyes taking in her damp clothing and annoyed expression with a quick sweep. “My apologies for the weather, love. Had I known you’d be popping in, I’d have chosen something a bit warmer.”

She bit the side of her tongue to hold in the acerbic comment that wanted to escape. His apology was genuine, but the very reason why he needed to make it pissed her off all over again. His mouth twitch higher on one side as he easily read her expression and her eyes narrowed.

Instead of commenting, he reached for her hands, expression intent. His skin felt amazingly warm against hers and she nearly shuddered at the contact. Post-time jump always left her achingly sensitive to touch, and she usually tried to avoid it until she’d settled back into her skin. Feeding the shakiness of her bones with blood and sensation had proven to be a bad idea. There were other ways to remind herself that she was real, but the knowledge that she couldn’t hurt Klaus, could ask for nothing he couldn’t give was a heady temptation that twisted her stomach into knots.

Klaus’ gaze briefly narrowed as he read her reaction, but surprisingly he chose not to comment as he tucked her arm through his and ushered her towards the private elevator he’d just come from. He was hybrid-hot against her side, and she forced herself to ignore the crawling need to plaster herself against him and let the heat and muscle of him sink into her.

“Still angry then?” He asked lightly, dragging her out of the turmoil of her mind. “I suppose that’s fair. It’s been what? Two weeks or so for you since our last discussion?”

“Argument,” Caroline corrected as they stepped inside the elevator. “It’s been a week since we had an argument. And since I was just dumped into a giant pile of snow, I’m really not inclined to be forgiving.”

“I’d expect nothing else.” His hand squeezed her arm, voice lowering. “Your jump was just a little more than four years this time. You just missed New Years, I’m afraid.”

She appreciated him ripping the band aid off, but it still sucked. She loved the Holiday Season. Klaus, she knew, didn’t celebrate the way she did but he’d dropped more than one hint over the years that he’d make an exception or two for her, if she wanted him too. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d noted her love of the season, but the quiet sympathy in his eyes shook her a little.

“Of course I did,” she finally muttered. There was no point in pretending she enjoyed missing chunks of her life. Not with him. “Anything else?”

“Nothing of great import,” Klaus said. “I’m sure your friends will fill you in on the banality of their lives soon enough.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “They aren’t that bad.” The ones that were left, anyway.

He made a low, noncommittal noise and studied her face with an intensity that left her wanting to fidget. “You need blood.”

“That can’t be a surprise.”

Klaus’ head tipped to the side, all teasing gone. “Does the amount of blood you need post-skip change with duration? You’ve avoided saying.”

The elevator doors opened softly, and Caroline tried not to flinch at the unexpected movement. Glancing away, she briefly bit her lip as she took in the extravagance of his hotel room and internally winced at the thought of her soggy boots on the fancy flooring.

“Caroline.” The demand in his voice pushed at her temper, and she bit her tongue to hold in her acerbic response. Picking a fight because she was still pissed at a fight that happened four years ago for him wouldn’t solve anything.

“Sometimes,” she said finally, shoulder lifting in a shrug. She glanced at him to find his gaze had narrowed and that maybe he hadn’t let their last argument go the way she thought he had. It figured. Still, he held out a hand to keep the doors open so she could exist when they tried to shut, and she took his silent suggestion.

Caroline stepped into the warm room with relief, gaze scanning the space for any immediately noticeable changes. Nothing new that she could see, but nothing that could really anchor her to the present if her mind started to wander. Except the fireplace. There was a fire already crackling, and it had been years since she had seen one. She’d thought wood fires had long gone out of fashion, another one of her childhood mementos gone before she was ready.

The privilege of the super rich, she supposed with a faint smile. Heading for the closest couch, she sat with a little sigh at the squishy softness of the cushion, and determinedly reached for the zipper on her the first boot. Behind her, Klaus prowled around the couch. Caroline tried not track him, but he was distracting when he decided to decided to take up space.

“You’ve never been a very good liar, love.” His voice was soft as he finally spoke, his words sank like blades between them. “Not to those who know you.”

Her head snapped up, eyes hot. “Excuse you?”

Klaus’ gaze was as annoyed as her own. “Why have secrets at all? Particular about this.”

Caroline spluttered. “That’s kind of rich, coming from you.”

He suddenly crouched in front of her, his movements almost vampire-fast. His hands caught hers, the shock his warm fingers curling around the shaking bone and muscle of hers. She bit down hard on the tip of her tongue to keep from asking for more, to see if his hands on her skin could smooth the void-cold from her sinew and muscle. She needed blood and an hour or so to start putting herself back together, and she wasn’t sure she was going to get it.

If Klaus noticed any of her internal struggle, he didn’t address it. “Your witch has finally managed to collect a fair number of details on the intricacies of your curse. I have several copies of her notes, should you like to look at them.”

She gave him a wary look. “Thank you.”

His head tipped to the side, and the challenge in his gaze was flecked wolf-bright. “But what continues to be a point of contention between her and I is the lack of clarity when it comes to how the spell affects you. The after effects of a skip and the toll it takes. Just how you recover from each event.”

Caroline lifted her chin. “That’s because I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And why is that?” His wolf bled through his eyes then, a sure sign of the temper that had left them both shouting during their last meeting. “You’re still trembling. You’ve avoided letting the Bennet witch or me see you so soon after you return. What does the spell take from you, Caroline?”

A jerky lift of her shoulder. “Nothing blood won’t solve. It was only four years this time.”

His jaw tightened at the bitterness in her voice, the line of his cheekbones sharpening. “And the jump that took seven decades from you? What was the price you paid then?”

“Does it matter?” She snapped back. “You and Bonnie have already decided whatever it is, I can’t handle it. It’s why I ended up stuck here. Tromping through a blizzard. Remember that part?”

His jaw jumped. “Caroline.”

“No,” she said tightly. “I’m halfway to being a vampire-popsicle, Klaus. I want a change of clothes and blood, maybe a shower. Not an interrogation.”

For a dozen heartbeats, she thought he’d dig in his heels and argue. They’d already fought over this point more than once, loudly, and while she didn’t want to go over it again, she would. But instead of picking a fight, Klaus stood. Her hands buzzed where he’d touched her, the skin going cold.

“I’ll fetch you a change of clothes, though it will have to be something of mine. Once the storm dies down, I’ll be able to send for more appropriate things for you. Until then we’ll just have to make do.”

He turned and walked away before she could comment and her heart slammed into her throat. Being wrapped in Klaus’ clothes and his scent didn’t seem like such a good idea when she was so out of sorts. Her monster wanted his touch.

Preferably with both of them naked.

Closing her eyes, Caroline gave herself a moment to freak out before bending over to finish taking off her ruined boots. Then she reached for her hair band, shaking out her hair before tying it back up into a messy bun. She’d learned that small, easily accomplished tasks helped to ground her and right then, she needed all the help she could get.

For all that she’d lost over a hundred years of her life since this had started, she’d only experienced seven time-skips. And each jump was it’s very own experience. The first time her curse had kicked in, she had only lost a few weeks, and she’d managed it mostly unscathed. Oh, she’d been sure she had gone crazy, waking up in her house but two weeks later than her last memory. She’d had no recollection of the time having passed and the horror Damon had left behind had threatened to choke her.

She had called Bonnie, frantic, and her witchy best friend had shown up two days later with supplies and her grimoire collection. It hadn’t been until six months later, when she’d lost four years, that Caroline and Bonnie had really started to understand what they were dealing with. For the first time in her life, she’d felt a strange kinship with Rebekah as she’d found herself lost in what had once been familiar. Not that she planned on admitting such a thing out loud, ever. Disappearing for seven decades had taught her a lot of hard lessons.

She could go weeks and months without a timeskip, the longest stretch had nearly five years, but she couldn’t really live in the time between. Not when she had no idea, no warning for when she’d just up and disappear. Her newly found wanderlust had been forced to take a backseat to the need for safety. She just wouldn’t risk disappearing and leaving everything behind in some forgein country with no way of getting anything she cared about back.

So she’d boxed up all her dreams alongside her favorite things and promised herself she’d find them again later. And she never intended to tell anyone about how hard it was for her. Not when she saw the toll her curse took on everyone around her - the way Bonnie lost weight and refused to talk about how difficult the spell work truly was.

She could still remember the look on Klaus face when he’d walked in the door after her reappearance after seventy years. Bonnie had warned her that he’d come looking, but her skin had still gone hot and achingly aware of his presence as his gaze had burned against her. He’d looked at her in such a way, and she’d been absolutely certain it was only Bonnie’s presence and his own iron control that had kept him from reaching for her.

At that point, it’d been years since she’d last seen him and it had absolutely nothing to cool the heat between them. Unfortunately, it also appeared that they hadn’t lost any of their ability to dig under each other’s skin and their tempers had been fast to heat. Klaus had wanted to know all the details of the spell and she hadn’t appreciated his pushiness. He’d been pissed and frustrated, and so had she, but even as they’d shouted at each other, the fear that he’d bite her, that she’d push him too far, hadn’t risen once.

It’d been a strange way to realize just how much she’d grown to trust him. Decades of silence between them, and she’d still known with complete and utter trust that Klaus wouldn’t harm her in that way ever again. But knowing how felt against under her hands, the way he could move inside her, had left her aware of every movement he’d made in her presence and the occasional spark of yellow at the edge of his pupil had told her she wasn’t the only one.

She had asked Klaus to walk away at all those years ago for good reasons. But now she was older, less naive, those reasons hadn’t held up quite so well. But she hadn’t really had time to work through those feelings and the changes between them between skips. And having him so close when she was so off balance wasn’t something she was sure she was ready for. Before this, she’d made a point to put herself back into working order before letting him and Bonnie know she’d returned.

Both Bonnie had Klaus had been suspicious of exactly what happened when she returned, but she’d refused to discuss it. The mix of guilt and horror, the struggle to remember how to be a person? She hadn’t known how to explain what returning was like without making Bonnie’s guilt worse, Klaus’ rage. Attraction and softer feelings aside, being vulnerable sucked.

A door shut down the hall, and Caroline glanced in the direction Klaus had disappeared. When he reappeared, she bit down hard on the side of her tongue. He’d rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to bare his forearms, and his hair was ruffled, as if he’d dragged his fingers through it several times. Inside her chest, her monster stirred.

“I’ve taken the liberty to order in dinner,” Klaus said casually, as if he wasn’t watching her with eyes still pale with temper. “You may have my blood or the bellhops, but I’m going to have to insist that you have some tonight.”

Caroline stood and tried not to fidget at his words. Easily accessible blood bags had become a thing of the past during her seventy year disappearance, plastic also going out of fashion, and she’d adjusted to eating from the vein far easier than she’d ever thought possible. But it had been years since she’d drank directly from Klaus’ vein, and the memory of his taste had lingered.

“Thank you,” she murmured instead of committing either way.

His gaze flickered over her face and he handed her the clothes he’d brought with him. “I can show you to a room if you’d like to change.”

Caroline sighed as she accepted the tentative truce he was offering. “How many rooms does this place have, exactly?”

A hint of a smile brought out a dimple in his cheek. “A few. You’ll want one with a proper bath, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes,” she said fervently. His smile widened and he motioned her to follow him. The suit he lead her to was pretty, but all she cared about was the tub she caught a glimpse of behind an open door. “Thanks.”

Klaus tipped his head in acknowledgement before pausing. “When you’re done, we’ll talk.”

Caroline turned to face him. His expression was carefully neutral. “Talk or fight?”

His teeth gleamed but there was nothing particular cheerful about his smile. “I suppose that will depend.”

“Klaus…” she started and then stopped, fingers fisting in his clothes in frustration. “It’s not that easy. None of this is easy.”

“Very few things are, love, particularly where you’re concerned. That doesn’t make you less worthy of my time.” He glanced at the bathroom deliberately, and then took a step away from her. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Caroline bit her lip and watched the door close behind him. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled slowly before letting it out again. It wouldn’t be long enough to slot all of her parts back together, but it’d be a start.

She decided on a shower.

As much as she had wanted the bath, once the water turned off it would be too quiet with hybrid hearing so close by. Instead she’d sat on the floor of the shower and given herself several minutes to quietly go to pieces. She didn’t cry, she refused. But she shook so hard she was surprised Klaus didn’t hear her bones rattling in her skin.

Once clean, Caroline had bundled up in one of the thick, fancy hotel robes and sank onto a fuzzy bathroom rug and struggled to get a grip on herself. Dinner would be arriving soon and she hadn’t bothered to do more than wrap her hair in a towel, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand up and pretend everything was okay just yet.

Recovering from a timeskip always came in stages. Arguing with Klaus, the forcefulness of his presence had helped with her strange disassociation, but nothing she’d found had stopped her post-skip reaction completely and she’d held the worst of her reaction off as long as she could. But under the hot spray of the shower, Caroline she’d gripped her shins hard enough to bruise and shuddered.

Her body needed time to recover from wherever she went when she skipped. As best she’d been able to tell, she didn’t spend a year for a year between time in the empty void she only truly remembered in her nightmares. Her vampirism hadn’t strengthened enough for that to be the case, but she was stronger than she should have been if she simply blinked back into existence. So there appeared to be some trade off. And whatever that place was in between, it lingered in the marrow of her bones until she shook it off.

And once her body settled, finally adjusting to the fact that she existed again, the blood lust would hit hard. Her monster always rose, greedy and grasping and starved. She’d gotten good at ignoring her thirst until she could contain it, but it was unlikely that Klaus would let her use her usual coping methods. Assuming she even wanted him to.

Rubbing her face with a shaky hand, Caroline tried to decide what she wanted. Part of the reason she’d pushed back so hard against against Bonnie’s spell was just how easy it would be to let Klaus take the brunt of her problem onto himself. Part of her wanted to use him as a safe haven, and badly. The wild, bloody part of her wanted to dig her teeth and fingers into his skin and leave a mark.

She always had.

But unlike her teenage self, the logical, human part of her brain recognized that it was a bad idea but for far different reasons. She didn’t fear the his monster anymore, though she wasn’t certain if she’d accepted it just yet. But she could clearly see a time when she might. And figuring out what that meant, what she wanted from him? It deserved thought and care, two things she wasn’t sure she’d be able to give him until this curse ended.

If it ever did.

Forcibly pushing that thought aside, she toyed with the belt on her robe. Klaus wouldn’t judge her for the things she’d done to survive. But admitting them? Letting him see all the bits of her she hadn’t completely reconciled to herself would be hard. Particularly when she wanted to do nothing more than slide her fingers beneath his shirt and see if he would use his body to distract hers.

Just thinking about it, the odds that he slept naked, left her cheeks hot. Even with rooms, walls and hundreds of square feet between them, he would definitely notice if she tried to get herself off, and that was… a weird mix of arousing and embarrassing. Caroline morosely wondered if she could just lock herself in her room and hide, pretending that she didn’t smell Klaus on her skin while she dealt with the aftereffects of the skip.

The soft knock of incoming room service interrupted her imaginings, probably for the better. Her body was already hyper aware of the smallest of sensations, and thinking about Klaus touching her, all the things he’d murmured against her skin the last time she had let him, would do nothing to calm her heartbeat.

Pushing herself to her feet, Caroline forced herself to put her underwear and bra back on before pulling the clothes Klaus had given her. His clothing was warm and almost unbearably soft, an outfit he’d worn often. Her chest tightened that he’d given her his favorite things. The familiar scent of his skin and his preferred laundry soap was comforting as she rolled the sleeves up. Running a quick comb through her hair, she decided she was presentable and headed out to see what Klaus had ordered for them.

The room was empty but a trolley was filled with several things she couldn’t immediately identify, but that didn’t surprise her. Food was weird. It was either exactly the same or something completely new. However, it was a plate of French Fries that left her throat tight. Klaus rarely missed the little details, she’d be willing to bet money that there was a bottle of champagne hidden somewhere. Lips trembling into a smile, she flinched a handful, and ate them one by one, letting the familiar taste of fried potatoes settle her as she finished the plate.

Licking the salt from her fingers, she looked up just as Klaus walked back into the room. As she watched, his tongue snaked out and caught a tiny drop of blood at the corner of his mouth and she swallowed. Hard.

“Apologies, sweetheart. I’d have saved the bellhop for you, but I wasn’t sure how much time you’d want alone.”

His apology had held a hint of heat to it and she was too jittery to do anything but react. Her skin suddenly felt too tight and flushed. “That’s fine. It’s generally not a good idea for me to... eat so soon after a skip anyway.”

The slightly playful expression on his face disappeared as if it had never been. “Why?”

Caroline hesitated and then sighed. He’d been right. What was the point of keeping secrets when they’d come out eventually anyway? She could lie, but that would damage something between them and she wasn’t willing to let the witches who had done this to her take anything else.

Lifting one hand, she studied the trembling bones of her fingers. “It takes a while to remember how to be me. And when I do, I always remember the vampire first.” She glanced at him, watched him absorb her words, saw understanding flare behind his eyes.

“I don’t even know how much time I spend in the void.” The words felt if they were pulled from her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut as a shudder ran down her spine at the thought of the cold terror of her nightmares. If she started crying now it would be awful and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. Grimacing, she spun away and stared at the cheerfully crackling fire.

“How old am I even supposed to be?”

“The number of years spent in the void does play a part, though they assume it’s roughly one year for every ten,” Klaus said quietly as he moved closer, his footsteps soft on the carpet. “Though the witch insisted it wasn’t an exact science. You’ve skipped roughly one hundred and ten years. So you’ve gained between twelve and twenty years of strength. Not significant in the long run, but you’d notice the difference in your finer motor skills.”

Caroline twisted around stare at him, her breathing fast. “How do you know that?”

His lips curled, something darkly satisfied in his expression. “I recently found the last of the line who cursed you. They were a fair bit more intelligent than their cousins. It didn’t save them, of course, but we negotiated their deaths and the deaths of their families on what information they could give me.”

She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was telling her. The violence. He’d not only killed the witches but their families. But in that moment, it paled in comparison to what he hadn’t said.

“They told you how to break this?” Her words wobbled.

Klaus’ jaw tightened, eyes bleeding into pale gold. “No. They insisted that once the spell was finished, it is nearly impossible to break it. What means that they could offer have a risk of a your permanent death, and that I will not allow.”

Caroline’s eyes burned. “That sucks.”

His head tipped in silent agreement, gaze unwavering as he watched her face. “However, there is a limit to the spell, sweetheart.”

It took a moment for her to find her voice. Her fingers curled tightly into her palms, nails digging into her skin. “What kind of limit?”

“One time skip for each witch who cast the spell, if the subject survives long enough,” he murmured, cheekbones sharpening with temper. “No human has and you’re the first vampire they’ve cursed. I’m told that ten witches attempted to curse the Bennett line, not a full thirteen. I’m still working to confirm that.”

Caroline’s eyes slid shut and she swayed. Klaus hands slid under her elbows and she gave into the urge to touch him that had been nagging her all evening. Stepping forward, Caroline pressed her face into his shoulder and squeezed his waist hard. “I’ve skipped seven times.”

Klaus’ fingers tangled in her damp hair, and his voice was low when he spoke. “I know.”

Shivering a little, she let herself have the luxury of holding onto him. It was easier to absorb what he was saying when she was pressed this tightly against him, the slow beat of his heart familiar against her ear. She’d skipped seven times.

That meant she had between three and six to go.

She was halfway there.

“Did the witches say why they cast this stupid spell in the first place?” She asked finally, words thick in her throat. “Who thought this curse was a good idea?”

“Revenge,” he said softly. “It appears that Abby Bennett has made an enemy or two over the years. She is difficult to find, so they decided to aim for an easier target. One who was less mobile. It was a matter of bad luck on your part, I’m afraid. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She made a low noise of frustration and tightened her grip on his shirt. Caroline wanted to think that the witches wouldn’t have cast the spell without reason, but she knew that wasn’t always the case. Witches were as monstrous as the rest of them: petty, judgemental and powerful. Humanity could be as ugly as it was beautiful.

“What did Abby do?”

Klaus smoothed her hair. “Once she has been brought to me, I will be sure to ask.”

Caroline reared back and stared at him. “Tell me you haven’t tried to kill Bonnie’s mother.”

Klaus’ face was set into unforgiving lines. “Not yet.”

“Klaus.”

His hand shifted to cup her jaw. “Bonnie Bennett and I have come to an agreement about her mother. I will not lay a finger on the vampire so long as your witch lives.”

The unspoken words that Bonnie’s life would not last an eternity ran between them. Caroline curled her fingers around his wrist but could not find the words to tell him to let it go. Whatever Abby had done, it had led to a great deal of bloodshed. It wasn’t a fight she was prepared to have with him.

Today.

“If you knew the time slips were limited,” she finally whispered. “Why did you keep us tied together?”

To her confusion, his hand slid away from her face and she was forced to release him. But instead of stepping back, he reached into his pocket and offered her what was clearly an upgraded version of her last cellphone model.

“That’s a phone,” she said inanely.

“It’s yours.”

“Pretty sure it’s not.” She’d had her phone on her when she’d been pulled into the skip and nothing but her clothing and the occasional hair tie ever came back out of the void.

Klaus’ mouth twitched. “I assure you, it is. You’ll find it exactly as you left it. Your friends number have remained the same.”

Caroline stared at it. “And you just… had it lying around?”

“Along with your credit cards, bank account information, ID’s and lock box keys,” Klaus stated calmly. “All the things you’ll need to seamlessly enter back into society.”

She jerked back, eyes wide. “What? Bonnie has all my things. Bonnie has…” her words died at the set of his jaw.

“Bonnie Bennett is mortal,” he said firmly. “Though she is a witch, and I have put a number of safeguards in place to assure her continued existence, she can die. I cannot.”

Caroline threw up her hands. “That doesn’t give you the right to just… take over!”

He lifted a brow. “Why not?”

“Why not?” She repeated, voice rising in pitch. “I didn’t ask you to do this.”

His mouth tightened. “And why is that, Caroline?” She stiffened at the edge in his voice and he stepped closer, voice dipping, gaze hot. “Four skips. The first was for two weeks. The second was four years. The third was for ten. But it wasn’t until the fourth, when you went missing for seventy years, when I came looking, that I was told what was going on.”

She swallowed at the edge in his voice. “I…”

Klaus caught a damp curl between his fingers, fingering the texture for a moment before tucking it behind her ear. “The truth, love, if you don’t mind.”

Caroline let out a bitter laugh. “If I don’t mind? Do you know how much I mind? How I hate losing so much of my life, the lives of my friends?”

His jaw went rock hard. “And yet you choose to face this on your own. Did you think I would not have helped you?”

“It’s not like that,” she protested.

“Then what is it like, Caroline? Because you’ve done everything you can to avoid discussing it.”

She glared back at his angry face. “Why does everything have to be a fight with you? Do you think I don’t realize that Bonnie is killable? That every single time I skip, I don’t have to face the idea that this might be the one where I’m in a world where she doesn’t exist?

“And yet,” he said ruthlessly. “Seventy years, Caroline; fifty-five of those in which I was aware of your curse. Then another fifteen, not a full six months after your return. In all my lifetimes, never have so many decades crawled by so slowly.”

Caroline froze, staring at the mix of emotions on his face before they disappeared, closed off behind the iron of his will. He angled away from her, facing the wide windows, and it cut into her that she’d hurt him. Not on purpose, not deliberately, but she remembered the six months he spoke of and the way he’d hovered.

It hadn’t been suffocating, and she’d known that was a deliberate choice on his part. A text here, a call there. The way he’d shown up to argue with her about movies she’d missed and coax her out of the worst of her funks. Seventy years was hard to reconcile, and Klaus had let her set the pace as she’d tried to adjust.

Then she’d disappeared for fifteen years.

When she’d come back, he’d been angrier and determined. That time she’d gone almost five years without a skip, the longest she’d ever been left to live her life since the curse started. Bonnie and Klaus had used the time to research the curse and had been ruthless in their tests and their hunt for information.

It’d been during that five year stretch that Bonnie had first come up with her brilliant idea. Caroline had immediately vetoed it. Klaus had taken Bonnie’s side and they’d fought for weeks over it. Before they could figure out a compromise, she’d been tugged away for seven years, and when she’d come back, Bonnie had perfected the ritual.

In all those years, it hadn’t occurred to her that the fact that she hadn’t called him when she’d first learned of her curse hurt him. Sinking her teeth into her lip, she started to reach for him and stopped herself. If she kept giving into her need to touch she wasn’t sure she’d stop.

“It wasn’t… I didn’t…” she shoved her fingers through her hair and ground of her next sentence. “I didn’t want the witches to take another thing away from me. Not one thing.”

Klaus’ gaze narrowed at her words, and he twisted around to stare at her with eyes gone pale. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“Do you know what it was like, showing back up in your own life four years later? Four years, Klaus. Except I’d lived none of it. Just a blink and the world have moved without me, like I was a record on the wrong track.”

“Caroline…”

She rushed forward, her words tripping over each other. “By the time I returned, Bonnie had at least figured out that it was a curse. The coven responsible had sent her a note. Did she tell you that? They taunted her.” She struggled to keep her monster tucked away as she remembered the moment Bonnie had confessed her guilt, her eyes wide and damp. That anger that still seethed beneath her skin. “She lets the guilt eat her alive. First Elena, then me. I cannot stand that she thinks she’s at fault for any of this. I refused to let her give up her life for Elena, and I won’t let her do it for me, but nothing I say dents her need to fix something that isn’t her fault in the first place.”

“And me?” He murmured. “Because I assure you, love. My resources outstrip Bonnie Bennett’s considerably. As does my rage.”

“But it’s not fair,” Caroline blurted, shaking her head. “To ask you to come in and cleanup messes that aren’t yours. Should I have called you? Probably. And I’m so sorry you worried. But I didn’t want you to think the only reason I’d ever call you was to fix things and I just…”

Squaring her shoulders, she groped for the right words. This was too important to screw up. Seeing the rage fed by the gouges she’d unknowingly left behind, it was impossible to ignore the fact that Klaus cared.

“We’re friends. Of a kind,” she started, voice hesitant, cheeks growing warm at just how much they weren’t just friends. “And after that first skip, I didn’t want some stupid spell to dictate when you came back into my life. It really, really sucks. And I hate it so much. But you’re important, and I just… I’m not going to just use you and then expect you to walk away all the time when I’m not ready to give you anything back. That’s not fair and I…”

Her words died as Klaus’ hand slipped back into her hair and he stepped close enough that if she breathed too deeply, her breasts would brush his chest. There was something hunting in his eyes, and she bit down on the side of her tongue to hold in a shiver.

“Caroline.”

This time she didn’t manage to stop her shudder, as his thumb feathered behind her ear. “What?”

A hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were dark with want. “You think this is important. That we, are important.”

Her toes curled against the floor. “Yes.”

“And,” he continued. “To be clear. You didn’t call me because?”

It was a struggle to keep from fidgeting under his unblinking gaze. “I wanted to call you for me.

Because I wanted too. Not to come in and fix something.”

His free hand curled around hers, and without breaking eye contact, he brought the underside of her wrist to warmth of his mouth. “Thank you, sweetheart. But your concerns are unnecessary.”

She tried to glare at him, but it was hard to stay mad with his mouth so close to her skin. Her monster was so greedy for the feel of him. “Excuse you?”

His smile pressed against her wrist and his gaze dropped to trace the shape of her lips. “It is no hardship, to give you what you need.”

“But…”

His teeth scraped against the veins along her wrist and she shuddered, teeth clicking as her mouth shut. “No. You are still so young, Caroline. I understood what I was saying, all those years ago when I told you my intentions. What it would ask of me. I’m a monster, and I will make no apologies for that, but I have no intention of being yours.”

She sucked in a breath at his bluntness. She wasn’t sure she would have managed it if their positions had been reversed. “I need to learn how to handle my problems on my own.”

His brow arched. “Did you not just claim we are something like friends? If you can call the Bennett witch for assistance, then I see no reason why you cannot do the same with me.”

“Yeah, well, there are some differences,” Caroline muttered.

His eyes gleamed with amusement for a moment but his face grew serious. “Sweetheart, you cannot have imagined that I wouldn’t eventually notice your disappearance? That I would not worry?”

Caroline flinched and his fingers tightened around hers. “At first, no. It was…”

His brow rose, and he pressed her hand against the scruff of his jaw. Goosebumps trailed down her arm at the sensation, and she struggled to suppress a shiver. “It was?”

“I don’t… the world doesn’t always fit back together right away. It never occurred to me that I’d be gone so long that you’d notice.” She blew out a breath and pressed her lips tightly together at the horror she’d felt when they’d realized the extent of the curse. Klaus tugged lightly on her hand in invitation, and she gave up on keeping any kind of distance between them if he was determined to go over the details.

“Tell me,” he coaxed once she’d settled against him, her face pressing against the side of his neck.

“It wasn’t until the second skip that we even figured out what was happening,” she finally murmured. He was silent, but he pulled her closer, arm curving around her hips. He probably already knew all this but the words just tumbled out. “There was no warning or pattern to it. I was here one day and then I… wasn’t. Two weeks. Four years. Ten. In between the skips, I got to exit for a total of six months.” She felt her eyes grow hot and swallowed down the tears she refused to let fall. “I don’t remember the void except for when I dream about it, but it…”

He squeezed the nape of her neck at the hitch in her words. “What happens when you return?”

Caroline was silent for a long moment. “I told you I have to relearn how to exist.”

“But not the details. I want them.”

“Of course you do.” Caroline huffed, but made no move to pull away. It was easier to talk like this when she didn’t have to look at him. Now that she was talking about it, she found that she actually wanted to keep going. “The void takes something from me. It clings. And the worst the skip, the more my first instinct is to drown it out when I’m back.”

“How?”

She felt her face grow hot, wondered if he could feel it. “At first? Blood. Sex. Anything that made me feel like my body was mine again. Now I try simpler things first. I try not to eat until I stop shaking.”

“Does that bothers you?” Klaus asked. “That you’ve needed to take to survive?”

Toying with the edge of his shirt, Caroline considered his question. She wasn’t sure bother was the right word to describe how she felt about the loss of control. The way her body felt like she no longer belonged to it, how she craved sensation to drown out the echoes in her bones.

It sucked. A lot. But other things were worse.

“I don’t like that I might hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it,” she finally admitted.

A tug on a curl, and Klaus wound his fingers through damp strands. “Have you?”

“Yes.” The word tasted bitter. “It took me three days to find all the scattered body parts after I was gone for seventy years. There was a group of college kids out having a party and I killed all of them. I just...I wanted their families to be able to bury them whole, well, as whole as I could manage, at least. I don’t remember any of what actually happened. But sometimes I think I dream about it.”

The cold dark of the void and the hunting terror on her tongue. The sick feeling in her stomach and the greed in her bones for more. She always turned on every light in the room after one of those nightmares and opened all her windows, listening for sounds outside of her room. A reminder that she was alive and existed, even when that existence could be stolen from her.

“The witch who decided to cast the curse is named Jolie.” Klaus said softly.

Caroline pulled back enough to see his face. “What?”

“She lives in a little cottage outside of New Orleans.” He continued, sliding his hands down to the small of her back. Anchoring her to him. “And every time you disappear, I go and pay her a visit.”

“But…” she stammered, mind racing at the hint of menace behind the word visit. “She must be…”

“Nearly a hundred and fifty years old.”

Caroline stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

His head lowered until his forehead pressed against hers, and his voice was terribly intimate as he spoke. “Would you like to know the details of those visits? I hunted Katerina. I allowed her to build and rebuild her life over and over, and I always took her little kingdoms away. Everything she touched turned to ash and dust, because I willed it. But I allowed her to have those years between, so that it would hurt more when I took everything away. I have not been so generous this time.”

“Generous,” she repeated, voice dazed.

“Jolie’s life is small. Contained. It offers no joy, and in the wake of your disappearances, no relief.” His eyes held hers with unblinking intensity. “It will be centuries yet before I allow her the quiet of death.”

Her mouth was bone-dry as she rasped out a single word. “Why?”

Klaus’ laugh was warm on her lips, but the sound of it was as bitter as her own. “Why? For fifty-five years, your witch and I waited. There was no sign that could be given that you lived, that you would survive what had taken you. No witch I questioned had heard of such a spell, and those who might have helped instead choose to hide.”

The rage in his voice, the tenseness of his arms around her told far more of the story than his words. For seventy years, she’d tumbled through a void and for most of those, he’d waited. Once, she would have thought such a thing impossible. That anyone would choose her, choose to wait though her return was no easy thing. But Klaus had proven over and over that the regard he’d given her when she’d been so young was no fickle thing.

Her life was all kinds of screwed up, but one day soon she was going to really think about that and her own feelings. What it meant to love a monster. But not just yet. Reaching up, Caroline placed her faintly trembling hand over his heartbeat. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies,” Klaus said as he straightened. “I do not need them. Not from you. Not about this. But Caroline, I will not go another half century waiting for word of your death. There is nothing I would not do to ensure your happiness, no atrocity I would not commit to keep you safe. But even I have my limits of what I can endure.”

She stared at him, the stark lines of his face. Taking a careful breath, she exhaled slowly. “Tell me why you asked Bonnie to bind us together.”

“The world changes,” he said finally, carefully. “And not always for the better. When I first broached the subject with the Bennett witch, it was to see if we could tether you to a location; create a magical bouy if you will.”

Caroline considered that. “A location? Like a house?”

A tip of his head. “The goal was to find you a you a safe haven of sorts, so that no matter what condition you were in when you landed, there would be no immediate threat. That you could receive whatever help you needed immediately.”

Her fingered tangled in the worn leather of his necklaces. “You’re definitely not a building.”

A laugh, rough and deep in his chest. “No. The spell the witches cast, it only clings to flesh and bone. To alter it, we had to bind it to the same.”

Caroline studied him and weighed his words against her anger that they’d made this choice for her when so many had been taken away. The terror and the horror of coming back to herself and finding the room painted in blood and terror, her monster gorged and so unbearably full. She gave herself just a moment to wonder how it might have been different if Klaus had been there and started to understand his point.

She didn’t have to like it though.

“I might understand, but I don’t like the fact that you both just decided this without me.”

Klaus sighed. “I can live with your anger, sweetheart. But not your death.”

Her brows come together. “What happened that your being so much more paranoid than usual?”

His thumb traced along a knot in her spine and she struggled not to lean into the touch. “That is a story for a different night, I believe. And I will answer all your questions, though I’m sure you will not appreciate all my answers. But there are a few things you should know.”

Gaze narrowed in a silent promise she wouldn’t forget, she frowned. “Like what?”

“As I’m sure you’ve realized, we expect between there to be between three and six remaining skips.” Something dangerous flickered through his eyes. “I’ll have a firm number in another week or two. But while the witches have insisted there are no set triggers for the spell, Bonnie has been going through the grimoire collection I brought her. She will know more soon.”

“Do I want to know how you managed to find an entire grimoire collection on an impossible spell?”

His lips curled. “I did tell you the latest batch of witches were more reasonable.”

She probably didn’t want to know then.

“Okay.” She studied a small bead on his rosary, gathering her thoughts before glancing up at him. “I can deal with this. It’s better now that I know it’ll be over one day and I’m not stuck with endless cycles of losing years my life.”

His eyes softened. “I know. But until it does, I will guard what you love, Caroline. Tomorrow, we’ll go through my properties and you can decide if you like one enough to call it yours until this is over.”

She blinked. “Klaus…”

“You can’t want to spend what time you have between skips in a guest room, Caroline. There is the potential for years between them, after all. When the curse is gone, when you are free, I will not clip your wings. Everything of yours in my keeping is yours to take back whenever you wish. But providing you with a safe place where you can live while we wait this out is no hardship.”

“I’ll think about,” she said finally. About all the things he was offering her. He nodded and she took a bracing breathe. “Tell me about the spell Bonnie cast.”

“Your witch is certain it will dissolve with your curse,” Klaus assured her. “And if it doesn’t, it is not a difficult spell to break. Simple is sometimes best, when it comes with magic.”

“And it only does what you’ve said?” She pushed. “You’re now my indestructible magical buoy, and the spell drops me within a set radius of you when we it spits me back out. That’s it?”

His mouth tilted up at the edge. “You don’t trust me?”

She scoffed. “Not about this.”

“So suspicious,” he teased, eyes warm. “It does everything as we’ve told you. The only additional component is that it allows me to sense you, for lack of a better word. It’s how I felt your return tonight. But more importantly, it means I know that you are alive, no matter how long you are gone. I would know if something went wrong the moment it happened.”

Her heart lept into her throat. “Aware of me how?”

Klaus shook his head. “It’s strongest when you first land. Right now, it’s so faint it’s barely discernible. When you are in the void, it’s softer still. A pulse I must look for to feel, but one I know quite well.”

“Oh,” Caroline said softly, turning it over in her mind. What such a spell would mean and she nodded. “That’s okay then.”

He arched a brow. “It is?”

She gave him a reproachful look. “I don’t want you or Bonnie to worry, Klaus. It’s better for you to know if something goes wrong, than for you to always look at the future and wonder. That I don’t mind, as long as it is all it does.”

“Hmm,” Klaus murmured.

“You cannot think I’d argue over a way to tell if I lived or died in the void?” She asked in exasperation. “Bonnie, at least, would deserve to know.”

Her fingers tangled in his necklace despite her biting words, and a dimple peaked from his cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do,” Caroline suggested as her fingers brushed his throat. “You should also note that I’m going to be super pissed if I get dunked into something like the Arctic Ocean. No trips to Antarctica when I’m not here.”

“Noted,” he murmured, voice low and warm. His gaze dropped to trace the curve of her mouth, and Caroline become achingly aware of every place they were pressed together. The splay of his hands, low on her back. “I’m sure if it did happen, I could make it up to you.”

Her pulse jumped, and she took a shaky breath. “Do you really want to test that?”

Klaus made a low noise in his throat. “I believe I have an idea or two that might coax you into forgiving me after such an unfortunate event. But perhaps such a thing should be a surprise?”

The heat in his eyes, the way his thumb had started to trace shapes against the bumps of her spine left her with a number of ideas. But such a thing should not be encouraged. “No frozen oceans, Klaus. Penguins are cute but I don’t want to swim with them.”

“And what do you want, Caroline?” He asked. “You’ve stopped shaking since I’ve had my hands on you, but you must be hungry. Have you waited long enough to take a bite?”

Her fingers clenched around his necklace. “I already ate all the fries.”

“I wasn’t talking about the food.” His smile was sin, and he pulled her hips flush against his. “You should know that I’m willing to satisfy any number of your appetites.”

Caroline curled her arms around his neck and her eyes lingered on his mouth. “I know.”

“Then why the hesitation?” His nose brushed hers, eyes hotly amused. “I remember our time in the woods as being quite good for you. You came for me how many times?”

“Four,” she rasped as his eyes darkened. “And wanting you isn’t the problem.”

“No?”

She shook her head, fingers tunneling through the soft curls at his nape. This she could admit to when it had never really been a secret anyway. “Wanting you was never the problem, Klaus. It’s that I might want you too much.”

Klaus’ smile was a quick, brilliant flash. “Good.”

His head lowered, lips brushing lightly against hers in a clear invitation, and she took it. Fingers fisting in his curls, Caroline opened her mouth hungrily against his. The last time they’d kissed, it’d been rushed. Greedy. A bit of the forbidden mingled with the white hot chemistry that had always been between them. This kiss was slow, just as hungry, but sweeter. He kissed her like he wanted to savor every taste.

His hand slipped beneath her shirt, his palm a brand on her spine, and she complained low in her throat when he tried to lift his head. He smiled, teeth sinking briefly along her bottom lip before he finally pulled briefly away from her mouth. “You need blood.”

She shivered at the reminder, the roughness of his voice. Tugging on his hair to tip his head back, she pressed her lips beneath his jaw, tongue snaking out for a tiny taste. “Are you sure?”

As much as she wanted to dig in her teeth and gorge, she just needed a little assurance that he understood what he was offering. It was probably a little silly, with the hard edge of his cock pressed against her thigh, but her past had left scars. Standing so close, Klaus letting her take her fill of what she needed to slot her pieces back together had helped settle her. But once she had him on her tongue, she was going to want so much more.

“I’m sure,” he murmured, eyes softening even as he tipped his head just enough to meet her eyes. His gaze ran over her face hungrily, taking in the hint of veins that were just visible beneath her eyes. “Take what blood you need, Caroline. Then I’ll take you to my bed and drown you in whatever sensation you want.”

Her vampire crawled up the surface then, fangs sharp behind her lips. The bright gold of his eyes never blinked and he shifted, offering his neck. “So utterly lovely, your monster.”

Caroline pressed her mouth to slow thud of his pulse, savoring the feel of him before letting herself have the taste he’d promised. Klaus made a low noise in his chest, hands pulling her closer but all she cared about was the taste of his blood on her tongue. Fresh blood was always so good, but Klaus was better. And her monster had been starved for too long. She took her time, drinking deep before letting her tongue run across the rapidly closing punctures, making sure she’d caught every drop.

When she finally lifted her head, Caroline felt better than she had in ages. The worst of the shakes had eased, the chill of the void lessened and what remained was overwhelmed by the familiar blood high and the ache of her growing arousal. When she met Klaus’ gaze, his monster was watching her with the same need as she licked her mouth clean.

“So utterly lovely,” he repeated before his head dipped and he sucked her lower lip between his. Caroline moaned, the sound turning into a gasp as his double fangs scraped her lip bloody. Whining as her blood mingled with the taste of him, she surged against mouth.

Kissing Klaus had been her very first indulgence of him as a man, and the taste and feel of him had been a gateway drug all those years ago. This time was no different. His hand in her hair, the small noise in the back of his throat as she sucked on his tongue, the way he pulled her closer as he angled her mouth for more. Her head spun, and her fingers fisted in his shirt until she heard seams pop and she still couldn’t get close enough.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, and eased her head back as he nudged her backwards. She gripped his shoulders, moaning as he dropped open mouthed kisses along the column of her neck. Her fingers gripped his shirt as her butt hit the back of the couch, and he released her hair to steady her.

“Tell me how you feel.”

Caroline tried to grasp his question as one hand slid beneath her shirt, his fingers teasing the waistband of her borrowed pants. “What?”

His lips curved against her jaw and he bit lightly. “I remember everything about our last encounter, love, but you seem particularly sensitive tonight. Is that usual?”

She nodded, breath shuddering as his fingers slipped lower. “Yes. Very. I…” her words cut off as his fingers slid into her underwear, bypassing her aching clit to delve between her wet folds, slicking his fingers. Klaus leaned back to watch her face as he teased her.

“You came so prettily first me on the ruin of our clothes, but I can be so much better tonight. Is it pure sensation that chases away the void, sweetheart or do you need orgasms?” His voice deepened as he pressed a single finger deeper, thumb starting a slow pattern across her clit.

“I don’t know,” She panted, leaning heavily against him as she rocked against his hand. She always got off fast after the first time she fed on her return, but how quickly her body was lighting up for him was insane. Klaus’ gaze locked with hers and she struggled to keep her eyes open and her words coherent as he added a second finger inside her. It was a struggle to find a coherent thought, much less words. “When… when it’s just me, I have to rely on orgasms. And my vibrator. When I have a partner, I haven’t really let any of them...”

She moaned as he hit that perfect spit inside her, words dying in her throat, nails digging into his skin as her vision went hazy at the edges.

The hand braced against her spine moved to slide against bare skin, and the heat of his palm on her back, the slight scrape of his callouses, was almost a sensory overload.

“Play?” Klaus asked teasingly as he increased the pressure on her clit.

“Too greedy,” she finally gasped, voice thick. There was more she wanted to say, to admit to, but it ceased to matter as the start of her orgasm rippled through her and she pressed her face into his throat with a cry. The faint bite of his nails against back, the careful movements of his fingers prolonged her orgasm until she was gasping.

Caroline stayed pressed against him until her heartbeat finally slowed, lifting her head as Klaus eased his hand free of her underwear. She sank her teeth hard into her lower lip as he brought his slick fingers to his mouth, licking the tips clean.

“I like greedy,” he murmured as he moved to tug at the waistband of her pants in question before helping her ease them down her trembling thighs. “I’d be delighted to give you as many orgasms as you can take, sweetheart, but perhaps we should experiment so that I can be better prepared for your next skip, hmm?”

His hands settled on the back of her bare thighs and she swallowed. She wasn’t sure better prepared would be good for her sanity. But…

“Experiment?”

His dimples were sinful. “How would you feel if I tied you to a headboard? The one in my room should suffice. We’ll see just how much sensation you can handle, what you need, before I wrap my lips around your clit and let you come against my tongue. I’m going to want a much better taste of you.”

She inhaled sharply at his words, her abdomen going tight at the low voiced offer. Fingers sliding into his hair, she debated his offer. “Tie me with what?”

His thumb brushed just beneath the curve of her ass. “I might have a silk scarf or two lying around.”

Caroline snorted and tugged on his hair. “I’m not letting you tie me to the bed with anything that’s so much as touched another woman.”

Klaus bent his head and sank his fangs into the soft curve of her mouth, and she arched against him with a whine. He didn’t take much, a mere mouthful, but he sucked on lower lip into until it stopped bleeding. Pulling back, his eyes gleamed. “I do so enjoy your jealousy, Caroline.”

She spluttered, but Klaus gripped the back of her thighs and lifted her onto her toes. Caroline took the hint, jumping to hook her thighs around his hips. The hard edge of his erection pressed against the damp line of her panties, and she rocked against it. Shuddering at how good the pressure felt, she repeated the motion as he encouraged her with a low moan, hips shifting until she found the perfect angle.

Klaus’ lips feathered along her jaw, teeth nipping below her ear and her thighs clenched around his waist. His lips curved against her neck, lips chasing the line of her throat when her head tipped back in a silent demand for more.

“Bed,” she finally managed to grit out. “I want that bed.” His teeth scraped a particularly sensitive spot on her neck before world blurred, and she glanced around as they came to a halt. The room was opulent and full of windows, but it was impossible to notice a chill with Klaus pressed so tightly against her. He laved at the hollow of her collarbones, pulling her attention back to him before he lowered her gently onto the bed, encouraging her legs to release him.

For a moment she just stared up at him in the low light, his curls wild from her fingers and his eyes so hungry it was impossible to feel anything but the same greed. Something warm bubbled in her chest, arousal put aside for a single moment as they watched each other. “Hey,” she said with a small smile.

His laugh was soft, and he chased her smile with soft lips. “I adore you like this,” he told her, his inhale against her skin followed by another pleased noise. “My scent all over you; the smell of you hot and slick and waiting for me. I want to taste you.”

Caroline shivered and scooted back to make room for him. That was an offer she wasn’t going to refuse, not when she ached for him. “I thought you were going to?”

His smile was dimpled. “Take off your shirt.”

Her fingers shook a little as she did as he asked before reaching for her bra clasp. He’d torn right through her bra the last time they’d had sex, and just then it was her only option. Tossing it to the side, she ran her eyes along his rumbled figure.

“Are you going to join me?” She reached over to tug on his shirt collar. “Off.”

He crawled onto the bed, head bent to skim along the flushed skin of her abdomen before skimming one breast before he encouraged to settle deeper into his pillows. Under her heavy lidded gaze, Klaus impatiently worked at the buttons on his shirt. When she reached for the newly barred flesh, he caught her hands and kissed her palms. “Not yet, I think.”

“Seriously?” She complained, fingers flexing against his. “I want to touch too.”

He nipped one fingertip before licking away the sting. “Later, you may do as you wish. But right now, I get to touch you. We have a few theories to test, do we not?”

“You really want to tie me to the bed?” Her woods came out a bit breathless, stomach fluttering with fresh arousal. Instead of answering, Klaus’ smile turned slightly wicked and then he disappeared before returning quickly and holding a long strip of silk the same golden shade as champagne. He crawled onto the bed and draped it across her breasts with a considering look. She bit the side of her tongue to keep from making a noise at the slide of fabric across stiff nipples that the silk did nothing to hide.

“Yes,” he said softly, his finger gliding a line down her belly. “It’s as pretty against your skin as I’d imagined, but perhaps next time something a shade or two darker.”

“You just…”

His glanced at her face from beneath his lashes, smile turning a touch lascivious. “A bit of silk is easy enough to keep on hand, and I’ve thought you often enough over the years that I might have a hopeful purchase or two lying around.”

“Oh.”

Klaus tipped his head to the side and studied her face. “We can save this for another night, sweetheart. Something to anticipate perhaps, if you’d prefer.”

Caroline thought about it and shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I’ve just never tried this before but I want too.”

“If you are uncomfortable at any point, we will stop.” His smile turned wicked, dimples creasing his cheeks. “This particular silk has only been touched by the witch who spelled it. Does that meet your requirements?”

Heat flushed through her at his words and she swallowed. “What else do you have tucked away?”

His chuckle was rough, tongue snaking across his lips. “A few things, but I thought we had agreed that some of them should be a surprise.”

“Surprises are generally not my favorite,” she pointed out, voice holding steady even as he circled one nipple with a fingertip. The rasp of silk felt good, but she wanted his mouth there instead.

“Oh, I imagine there might be a time or two I could talk you into them,” he murmured, voice dipping low and coaxing. “Tonight I’ll tie you to my bed, but perhaps after we’ve learned just what you can handle, what you like post-skip you’ll let me blindfold you as well, hmm? There are a number of items that can be used to enhance such an experience. Soft, exploratory touches until you’re languid and wet, until your body craves the orgasm I’d give you. Eventually. I think you’d enjoy a number of surprise then.”

Her inhale was shaky at the flutter of arousal that washed through her at his words. “I like to watch.”

Klaus’ eyes gleamed. “Do you? There might be a mirror around here somewhere can make use of later. Right now, hands above your head, sweetheart.”

Wiggling around into a slightly more comfortable position, she settled her wrists near the headboard. Klaus gathered the silk and reached up, wrapping her wrists firmly before securing them up the headboard.

“All right?”

Caroline wiggled her fingers and nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” he murmured gaze trailing down the line of her torso and lingering on her bare thighs. “Tell me if that changes. For any reason, Caroline.”

“I will.”

Klaus made a noise of approval in his chest, his hands resting on the curve of her inner thighs. She shivered at the sensation of his callouses dragging lightly against her skin as his thumbs stroked upward, but never quite reached where she wanted him. Squirming, Caroline curled her fingers into the silk. “I thought you were going to touch me.”

“Am I not?” He questioned, hands easing her thighs wider. The sweep of his gaze was lascivious, and his one corner of his mouth curved upwards as his eyes met hers. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve fantasized many times of having my very own Caroline-feast, but to actually have you here? I plan on taking my time tonight, Caroline. Last time we rushed, and while the sight of you with leaves in your hair as you came on my cock is one I have thought of often there are many benefits to a bed, hmm?”

His head bent, lips skimming ever so softly along her abdomen. She strained against his hold, thighs tensing at the hint of teeth. A slow, dangerous smile curled against her belly and he hummed in thought. Caroline moaned as he sucked on a spot just above her navel, gooseflesh breaking out across her skin.

“Klaus, come on.”

He glanced up then, pupils wide against the yellow of his wolf. “I believe I promised you play,” he reminded as he settled against her, the coarse fabric of his dress pants tantalizing against her bare thighs. She curled her legs around his waist but he didn’t let her arch against him, the flex of hips pinning hers to the bed. Instead his mouth settled at the base of her throat, tongue a hot, velvet slide in the hollow between her collarbones. “As much as you can bear.”

His words puffed against her nipple, and the stroke of his tongue was better. He kept the pressure light, a mere tease of heat and sensation, and she arched her back, chasing his mouth. His hum of pleasure vibrated against her skin and her knees pressed tightly against his sides. When he finally lifted his head, he cupped her neglected breast and squeezed lightly, gaze locked on the shape of her breast in his palm.

“More,” Caroline demanded impatiently. “More.”

“I told you I’d give you what you wanted,” he reminded her, tongue a velvet counterpoint to his words. He kept his pace agonizingly slow, each brush of his tongue, the slight burn of his beard against her skin a deliberate seduction of her senses. He chased every twitch, every moan until she was quivering beneath him.

It was better with him, easier to let Klaus keep her centered than she could ever remember it being with her previous lovers. Her fingers tangled in silk and her body burned for the orgasm he hadn’t let her chase, and she couldn’t feel even a hint of the void lingering.

“Have you decided?” Klaus asked, gaze flickering to her flushed face as he licked at her trembling abdomen.

Caroline shook her head, not comprehending the question as he eased further down her body. She unwound her legs, letting him spread her thighs wide as he settled on his elbows. Only the soaked fabric of her panties separated her throbbing clit from his mouth and she wanted them gone.

“What pushes the void away, love?” His voice was indulgent, breath hot against her thigh before he rested his cheek there, scrapping the sensitive skin red and she twisted her hands in the silk of her toes, moaning. He repeated the motions on her other thigh, gaze returning to her face once he was satisfied by the lingering marks that would quickly fade. “Caroline?”

She dragged her thoughts to the surface. “I think,” she finally managed, voice hoarse with need. “I need another orgasm. To compare.”

His smile was wicked in all the best ways as he snapped the band of her panties, tugging the clinging fabric away from her body. His eyes gleamed gold, gaze dipping. “Do you?”

Klaus didn’t give her a chance to reply, mouth sealing over her clit. Her toes curled into the sheets as he tasted her with a slow drag of his tongue before his forearms settled across her thighs, holding her hips in place as he drove her mad with his tongue. He lingered between her thighs, seemingly content to taste and tease until she was mindless with need. Her gasping breaths went ragged, as the slow buildup gave way to the perfect flicks of his tongue, the suction of his mouth, and her body locked in place as she shouted through her release.

When she finally gained her senses, she watched hazily as he moved to forcefully removed his pants. She was certain she heard seams ripping, a button popping free, but it didn’t matter when he settled between her thighs, his cock hot and hard between them. The sight of his swollen lips, slick from her release and the flush of his cheekbones, the stark need in his eyes, left her craving more.

“You said I could have what I wanted,” she rasped, thigh hooking over his hip to reel him closer. “And I want you inside me. Right now.”

The expletive that fell from his lips as his cock nestled against her slickness her was gratifying, the way his breathing shuddered against her throat more so. Their combined moans as he nudged inside her was better, and it was all she could do to absorb the feel of him, the way he felt thick and full inside of her.

“Perfect,” he gritted out, hand sliding beneath her back to arch help support her spine. “Always so bloody perfect.”

He didn’t give her a chance to reply, hips starting a slow grind, the drag of his cock torturously good. His mouth was hot against her throat, the edges of his fangs a tease as he tested both of their control. Caroline arched against him, rubbing her breasts against chest as she hunted for more sensation, more of him. Klaus groaned and his teeth scraped her skin, his tongue catching the drops of blood brought to the surface.

It wasn’t until she begged, his name a babble of words, that he gave her what she wanted, what they both needed. The unexpected snap of his hips, the feel of his hand sliding between them to toy with her clit sent her careening, Klaus right behind her as she clamped around him, the pulse of her orgasm turning the world hazy.

Soft, feathering kisses brought her back to awareness, and she shifted her arms with a faint sound of complaint. A moment later the silk loosened, and she slipped her wrists free, tangling one hand in his hair.

“I liked both,” Caroline said a little roughly.

Klaus smiled, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss against her sternum. “I can think of a few more things you might like.”

“Like what?”

His smile grew and he slipped back down her body, his lips dragging across her skin.“I want you to watch this time. And after, we’ll see about finding that mirror, hmm?”

Klaus had been correct. She liked a great many things he suggested that night, until she fell asleep pressed against him, pliant and happily exhausted.

Caroline woke with a jolt, breathing harsh in her throat. For a moment, she forgot where she was though she was toasty warm and comfortable. Her half-wild gaze locked with Klaus’ from where she was half-buried beneath him, and her most recent memory returned in a rush.

Blinking away the remains of a dream she couldn’t really remember, she looked around. “What time is it?”

“Early.” Klaus propped himself on an elbow, but didn’t make a move to shift away from her. “Nightmares?”

She reached up to card her fingers through his sex-fluffed hair as she chased the tendrils of what had woken her. “I don't know.”

His hand settled on her hip, thumb tracing along the shape of bone, and his eyes were intent. “Does this happen often?”

Her lips curved sardonically. “Yes. It’ll smooth out once my mind catches up with the rest of me.”

Klaus’ eyes narrowed. “How long does it usually take?”

She shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be a specific timeline. Sometimes it's a few days, other times I never notice an issue. I did talk to Bonnie about it but she didn’t have much advice. Brains are weird, I suppose.”

He didn’t respond to her attempt to lighten the mood, gaze going distant as he clearly planned something but Caroline found she didn’t mind. It was nice, lingering in bed this way, his naked skin pressed against her own. It wasn’t something she’d have every thought he would want or that she would enjoy with him. It was another piece of a puzzle she really did need to figure out.

Finally, it was Klaus who broke the silence. “How are you feeling? Do you need more blood?”

Caroline stretched a little beneath him, testing her muscles and ignoring the first stirring of arousal at his offer. Her vampirism had kicked in with fervor after she’d fed from Klaus and today everything felt normal. It was in fact the best she’d felt in years. It wasn’t just his blood, or the amazing sex, but the fact that he’d given her concrete facts. There was a quasi-plan in place that she fully intended to make it something with more bullet points and contingencies, but for the first time since this curse had started, she had answers.

And even if some of them sucked, she had them.

Lips curling, she let the pad of her fingers skim down his check, lingering at the curve of his jaw. “Good. I feel really good.”

A hint of gold brightened his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Did you have plans for today?”

“Not anymore.”

She huffed, but couldn’t quite stop her smile. “I don’t want to interfere with whatever plans you have.”

“None of them were particularly important,” he dismissed easily. “A spot or two of murder, intimidating the local population into remembering whose suffrage they exit on. They’ll still be here once we have you settled.”

His gaze turned teasing, and she rolled her eyes but didn’t move to shove him away. “How lucky for them.”

Klaus shook against her, his laughter near silent, his gaze affectionate when he looked at her. “And what about you? What would you like to do today?”

She needed to call Bonnie, have her tell her all about her research. She was pretty sure Klaus had said something about notes? She was going to read them and make them both answer all her questions until she was satisfied she knew every possible fact. Then she was going to bully him into taking her somewhere warmer, because she did not like snow and she refused to be cooped up inside for whatever time she had until her next skip.

But all of that could come a little later.

“I want a bath,” she decided. “I bet yours is even nicer than the one in my room.”

“It might be,” he conceded.

Caroline teased the hint of his dimple with her fingertips. “Want to join me?”

His smile deepened beneath her touch, and something lurched in her chest. They had so much to work out between them, and some things would have to wait until the curse no longer lingered over her head, but for the first time in ages, she felt excited about the future.

Because this man? She could never, ever tell him, but his plans, his being there? They’d made all the difference for her. They were going to ride this curse out and one day, she was going to have a long talk with Jolie. She’d be around when Caroline was ready for it. She knew Klaus would ensure it.

But that was a plan for another day.

Leaning forward before he could answer her invitation, she kissed him lightly, more affection than heat, lingering against his mouth because she could. For a moment, her moved against his his warm and lazy, but neither of them were satisfied for long. The kiss deepened, turned hot and wet quickly, and Caroline tugged him back into the bedding. They were going to totally have bath sex later but she had no problem seeing just how filthy they could get before they left the bed.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline smut #i'll probably do some edits #and then post to A03 later tomorrow #but I can't look at it anymore #here everyone goes #i hope you like it

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lipstickbisous · 5 years

Text

rough

description: he’s rough all over.

warnings: blood, some pretty gruesome shit, murderer!daniel, you’re not gonna like this, the boys aren’t in a band

tags: @trustfundparker @ijustreallylovethem @seavey-siren @bessonbear @coolkidcorbyn @katie-avery @keepseaveyweird @seaveyfeatures @tempus-ut-luceant

a/n: this is terrible quality gif whoops

“three more bodies have been found dead, scattered around la,” your eyes were glued on the tv with your phone pressed to your ear. daniel could hear the woman from the news and remained silent to listen in. “one of the bodies is 20-year old, jonah marias, who has been missing for three weeks.”

“jesus christ, daniel,” you whispered cupping a hand over your mouth.

you could hear daniel’s steady breathing over the phone. “i’m gonna be home soon,” he said. “lock the door. do not let anyone inside. i’m gonna tell corbyn that i need to leave.”

although daniel couldn’t see it, you nodded. “okay.” you whispered, instantly getting up and locking your front door. your apartment was empty and only the lights in the kitchen and living room illuminating your home.

“please come home soon.” you couldn’t almost hear daniel nod rapidly.

“as soon as possible.” he finished for you.

you didn’t realize it, but three hours passed by before you passed out on your couch. the tv was still playing. all you had been doing while you were alone in your apartment was watching the news to see what was happening.

the killings were happening all too frequently now. at first, they happened once every month and nobody knew the connects the dots. they happened in your city, which frightened you from the start, but daniel always protected you.

your nightmare was about the murderer. no one knew what his identity was, but the way your unconscious brain imagined him was with a mask, of course. he’d managed to get you; daniel came home to your dead body, and that’s right when you woke up.

you were sweating profusely when you woke up. your heart was beating at a rapid pace, your palms were clammy, and something just didn’t feel right. the lights were still on in your apartment, which made things feel worse.

a scream almost made its way out of your throat when you heard a knock at your door. your eyes widened as you stayed frozen in your seat. your blanket was tangled in your legs as you held a pillow to your chest.

“(y/n), baby, it’s me.” the familiar voice spoke and you sighed. you could only imagine a tired daniel standing at the door, just waiting to collapse in your arms and fall asleep. he was angel and you were lucky to have him.

but you had to be sure. you grabbed your phone and texted him to see if it was actually him at the door. you looked through the peephole and noticed his bright blue eyes. you unlocked the door and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

he laughed. “someone’s excited to see me.” you could feel him smile into your shoulder before you let go and let him walk inside.

““i’ve just been so scared,” you admitted, rubbing the bare skin on your arms. daniel set his keys on the table and looked at you softly.

“princess,” he cooes, replacing your hands with his and pulling you closer to him. “don’t be scared. i’m always gonna be here to protect you.” you only nodded in response and pressed your head to his chest.

»«

“i’m sorry, (y/n), i don’t know where daniel is,” corbyn genuinely apologized. “i’ve been at home all night.”

you sighed, rubbing your eyes and trying to hold in a sob. “it’s been four hours. he’s been gone for four hours without letting me know anything, i’m worried. it’s not safe out there.”

“he’s gonna be fine,” corbyn tried to reassure you, but he wasn’t sure how. “i’m sure of it.”

you bit down on your lip and exhaled a large breath. “okay,” your voice was timid and small. you gulped silently and wondered where the hell your boyfriend was. “thank you, corbyn.”

after saying your goodbyes, you hung up the phone and turned the tv on. “another body has been found in palisades park. the only difference from the other found bodies is that this one is still alive. police say that these murders have no connection at all. ‘they kill whoever they come across’.”

you instantly turned the tv off, not having the time to watch the gruesome news. “he’s getting sloppy.” you thought to yourself.

looking down at your phone, you wondered if calling daniel one more time was a good idea. you never liked the idea of coming off as clingy, but you were extremely worried about your boyfriend.

the phone run twice before you heard daniel’s voice. “hey, baby,” he spoke as if nothing was wrong.

“where the hell are you?” you slightly yelled, causing daniel to grow tense behind the phone.

“baby, calm down,” he whispered, and you then heard the police sirens in the background.

“are those sirens?”

he sighed. “yeah,” he said, biting his lip. “i’m at the crime scene. i was walking to my car and i came across it and- oh god, (y/n), it’s terrible.”

your eyes widened as you could only think about what happened there. you could only imagine what it looked like. “please come home, dani,” you said with a broken voice, and daniel noticed it. “please.”

you could almost hear him nod through the phone. “okay, baby,” he whispered. “i’m coming home.”

as daniel drove home in his brand new car, he mentally screamed at himself. “you’re gonna get caught,” he spoke to himself, tuning out the music that played. “you’re getting sloppy and you are going to get caught. that person is alive because of you.”

he could remember what it was like to watch the color and life drain out of the person’s eyes. the news had gotten it wrong; daniel did kill with strategy. he killed all the people that were no good for life. his first victim was a pedophile and a rapist. he saw it as doing the world a favor.

his most recent victim, the man who was still alive, was a man who’d grabbed you in a bar. daniel couldn’t bare to think about the night. he’d found the man and almost, just almost gotten his revenge. but now that the man was alive, there was a possibility that he had seen daniel’s face.

daniel pulled over to the side of the road and into an abandoned parking lot. he hit his head against the steering wheel, grinded his teeth. and punched the leather in his seat, until his fists bled. he had no idea how he was going to explain that to you, but he knew he could come up with a good lie.

once he reached your apartment complex, he was hesitant to walk inside your shared home. what if the news already got out? what if you knew?

realizing he left the key to your home on the table, he knew he needed to knock. but it made him only more nervous. what if you didn’t answer?

but before he could knock, the front door pulled open and you wrapped your arms around him. “jesus christ, daniel,” you whispered, feeling him immediately hug you back. “i was so worried.”

daniel rubbed your hair. “i’m sorry, love,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “i’m here now.”

you nodded and noticed the blood starting to dry up on the skin of knuckles. “what the hell?” you muttered to yourself. you held his fists in your hand but he pulled them back to his chest.

“went boxing,” he said shortly. “forgot to bring gloves so i only had the tape from there. wasn’t really good tape.”

you smiled warmly and kissed around the bloody areas. “well, go get cleaned up. i’m not your mama, i can’t fix wounds.” daniel laughed and nodded, kissing your forehead once again as he pressed your head to his chest.

»«

with a cup of wine in your hand, you tiredly lied on the couch, cuddled with one of daniel’s pillows. he said he was going to be out tonight with corbyn and jack. just in case, you called corbyn to see if daniel was with them, and much to your satisfaction, he was. it wasn’t that you didn’t trust daniel; you just didn’t know anymore.

daniel had texted you to tell he’d be coming home soon. recently, he’d been coming home around 11:00, but it was only 9:00; you couldn’t complain.

the way he’d texted you was odd - he’d misspelled almost every word - but you figured he was just a little drunk. daniel was always a fun and cuddly drunk so you knew it was going to be a good night.

on the other hand, daniel ran as fast as he could. he sprinted down alleyways, jumped over trash cans and cars, and raced to get back home to you. he was completely stupid if he thought he could get away with killing someone in a club. everyone there was drunk and/or high, so he thought that no one would notice a dead body floating around in the crowd. he was right, they didn’t.

but the police did. he didn’t see a sign of them as he was running, but he could never be too sure. he still had his blade on him just in case. he had blood all over his shirt, and of course, he’d chosen a white one.

there was blood on the cut in his lip from when the guy fought back and punched him. he was sure that a bruise was already forming. he had no idea how he was going to explain it to you.

once he’d gotten to your door, he felt a pain in his rib cage. his victim was rough; he fought back, unlike all the others. he leaned against the door and banged on the wooden barrier. he didn’t realize it, but once you’d opened the door, he fell to the floor of your apartment.

“daniel!” you yelled, holding him by the sides and pulling him over to the bathroom. the first thing you noticed was the blood. none of his injuries were terrible, just cuts and bruises that needed tending to.

“hey, baby,” he said with a smirk as you patched up his wounds. “can’t fix wounds my ass.”

you laughed at his statement but then remembered that it was no time to be laughing. “stop, this isn’t funny,” you said, sitting him down on the edge of your bed. “what the fuck happened?”

daniel gulped, his brain coming up with a quick lie. “h-he got me,” was all he could mutter out. “i was leaving and- he got me.”

your eyes widened as your mouth parted open. you felt your heartbeat increase and the words in your throat trip over themselves. all you could think of the to say was, “i told you to be careful.”

he chuckled breathlessly and clutched his stomach. your eyes grew teary. “i’m okay, babe,” he whispered. “i’m okay. i’m not dead.”

you didn’t want to laugh but you let a small smile shine. “well,” you cleared your throat. “i’m very glad for that.”

daniel smiled and placed his hand on your cheek, cupping the skin and gently rubbing it with his fingers. you wrapped your arms around him to engulf him in a much-needed hug. he hugged back, which caused his position to change.

you felt a hard and sharp object sticking out from daniel’s jeans. your eyebrows furrowed and you moved away from daniel, causing him to be confused. “what’s wrong, beautiful?” he played with your hair. you gently pushed his hand away, breaking his heart. you looked down and patted the sharp area.

daniel’s eyes widened and you looked back up into them. he gulped, and the two of you remained frozen. “w-what?” you breathed out. you reached into his pocket and pulled whatever the object was.

a blade.

the same exact blade you had seen on the news.

you stopped breathing. you looked down at the blood-covered weapon. your lips were dry and you stuck your tongue out to rid yourself of the feeling. “daniel...” you started.

“(y/n), please,” he said calmly, sitting back up.

“what is this?” you whispered, holding the blade up to him. he stared at it the same he would stare at you; it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. it disgusted you as you gagged.

he remained silent. you dropped to your knees. “oh god, daniel,” you whispered. “i-it’s you. you’re...him.”

silence.

“you've been murdering people, y-you’re the man i’ve been scared of these past months.” it broke his heart to hear and see you.

you shook your head and wiped away the tears. daniel, of all people, was the killer. he was the sweetest, most caring, most beautiful, and talented man you’d ever met. this wasn’t him - there must’ve been a reason behind it.

“why?” you breathed out.

daniel didn’t respond so you screamed it. “why!”

he shivered. “i was doing the world a favor.”

you dropped the blade and sobbed, not caring if you let him see you cry. the man you’d spent two years loving - you gave him everything you had, but this was who he was.

“i-i can’t,” you said, getting up, tripping over your own steps. you leaned against the doorway. “you can’t get away with this, daniel. innocent people.”

“they weren’t innocent,” he spoke to you. “they were bad people, rapists, murderers, i was ridding the world of them.”

this time, you stood up strong. you gulped and looked daniel in the eyes. “you’re no different.” you watched the color change and it scared you. they went from a beautiful blue to a raging ocean to a soft and gentle sky.

“please, (y/n),” he begged, walking closer to you. you flinched away from him, scared of what he could do. “please stay. i’ll stop killing people, i’ll stop it all, please just stay.”

you shook your head. “i can’t stay with you,” you muttered. “you are- no.”

daniel let out a yell when you opened the door. and it happened fast. his arms were around you as he turned you around to face him. then, there was a sharp feeling in your abdomen. you looked down to see a red stain on you shirt and you felt your skin ripping apart from the inside.

you struggled to breath as you lost all strength. you fell into daniel’s arms which only pushed the knife deeper. you let out small whimpers, looking up into his eyes.

they were wide and full of regret. “no, no, no,” he whispered to himself. he winced as he slid the weapon out of you, watch your face contrort in pain. “what have i done? i’m sorry, (y/n), i’m so sorry. i love you so much, beautiful.”

you bit down on your lip as you reached to your wound. you instantly felt the hot liquid seeping from your body. “daniel.” you breathed rapidly, growing anxious, but what for? you knew the outcome of the situation. his eyes grew teary.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he whined, kissing your forehead and wrapping his arms around you. your body went limp, your hand no longer held his, and when he looked down at your face, all he was met with were those lifeless eyes.

the last thing you felt were his hands touching your skin, his tears soaking into his shirt, and small puffs of breath as he sobbed.

“i love you so much.” and with that, he pulled you closer and pressed your head to his chest.

see what i did there

#daniel seavey #come to brazil #6/12 #why don’t we #imagine #new imagine #angst #fluff #smut #why don’t we imagine #jack avery #corbyn besson #jonah marais #zach herron

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raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

Out of the Dark

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Laurel Lance, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Sara Lance, Adam Donner, Thea Queen, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: On his way to the train station out of Starling City, Barry Allen comes across a Laurel Lance who has reached her breaking point. An offer of friendship changes the course of events in unexpected ways. Notes: WARNING - Suicide Attempt and Discussion of Suicide. If you or someone you know is feeling suicidal, especially as the holidays approach, please don’t hesitate to reach out, whether to a friend or a professional or an organization. The International Bipolar Foundation, for instance, contains a list of suicide hotlines for a number of different countries on their website. *Can be read on my AO3 and FFN, links are in my bio*

A small commotion near the entrance of the offices caused Laurel to look up, the first time she’d done so since arriving that day and most of the preceding week. Keeping your head down after losing a huge case was standard protocol, after all.

“Adam! Good to see you!”

“On your feet already?”

“This is just a visit,” said Adam Donner, her immediate superior. “I wanted to let you all know I was doing fine before the holidays.”

The holidays? It was really that time already, wasn’t it? She’d completely forgotten. Not that it mattered much; she had no plans.

Laurel stood, smoothing down her skirt as she went to join the small crowd of her coworkers. As awkward as things had turned the previous month with the dinner they had shared, she didn’t want him to think she was upset to see him recovered from the Count’s attack. “Adam, I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks, Laurel. Hey, uh, good try on the case.”

Her attempt at a smile turned to a grimace. Every time she thought of Moira Queen’s trial it brought a queasy mix of emotions. Frustration, guilt, relief and even confusion.

“It was open and shut,” a voice near the back of the crowd muttered and a titter of laughter went around the room. There was the shame in that mix, too.

Of all the things she had left to hang onto, it was her skill at her job. And she had let an accomplice to the murder of 503 people walk. It didn’t matter that a part of her was glad; the law had required her to do her job and she had failed. They all knew it.

“I hear Queen’s having a big party for his mother tonight. Figures they’d want to gloat,” said another coworker.

“It’s not to gloat, it’s just their holiday tradition,” Laurel couldn’t help disputing. Oliver would never do something that brazen, at least, not the Oliver who had come back the previous year from that island.

“Yeah? Guessing you didn’t get an invite this year.”

Another round of laughter went up.

“Alright people,” Kate Spencer’s voice announced her arrival. “Adam, thanks for coming in. My office, we’ll talk about the next assignments coming through.” Their boss walked away, not even sparing Laurel a glance. Kate had never liked her, even back when Laurel had been at CNRI.

She returned to her own desk, trying to shut out the whispers that followed, that had been following her the last several days. Why had the Count chosen Adam of all people to attack? Why couldn’t he have been the one to question Moira on the stand, to help shoulder some of this failure?

Or maybe he wouldn’t have failed. That thought seized her heart in an icy grip. Then Oliver and Thea would be planning a memorial service instead of a party. Neither of which she would ever be welcome at again.

She understood. How could either of the siblings want anything to do with her after what had happened in the courtroom? Even if Oliver had checked on her after, that was probably just out of courtesy. They’d promised to stay in each other’s lives — he’d promised to never leave even when that was all he ever did — but it couldn’t stand something like what she’d done. It was better that he just give up now. She’d rather just get it over with.

Laurel worked until it was dark. It was mostly just moving folders around and filing notes. She hadn’t been given anything serious to do since the Queen case, and she doubted she would be for some time. She’d joined the DA’s office because she’d seen it as her best way forward after losing CNRI, but each day it grew harder to get out of bed in the morning. Once the people who shared the open floor in her office had all signed out and left for the night, she got out the bottle she kept in her desk. It was easier to just have it on hand, especially since her father had been snooping into her business and was on a first name basis with almost any bartender in Starling City. Even if he was conveniently forgetting why that was in his pursuit to police his own daughter.

Why couldn’t he understand what she was going through? If anyone should, it would be him. She hadn’t seen him since that bizarre visit he had made to her apartment going on about her becoming a parent some day. Laurel snorted before finishing her glass. Like that was happening anytime soon. Or ever.

Kate’s door opened and Laurel hastily stashed the bottle away, almost fumbling the cap. Adam was the only one who emerged, and he blinked in surprise at her.

“Burning the midnight oil? It’s nearly Christmas.”

“Crime never sleeps.”

“Yeah, but you should. Come on, you can walk me out.”

With little room to say no, Laurel stood, hesitating when he held out her coat for her to step into. She couldn’t exactly snatch it from his hands, however, so she let him help her with it.

“There should be a taxi waiting for me. Doctors say I should wait a few more days before operating heavy machinery,” he told her. “Do you need a lift?”

“No, thank you.” Laurel hadn’t brought her car — after being stopped by that cop, she was a little leery of driving — but she did not want to confine herself to small quarters with Adam.

He favored her with an understanding smile. “Hey, we all have our early losses. It’ll all blow over. We’ll find something new to work on.”

Laurel nodded with a tight smile. A taxi pulled up to the curb.

“This is me.” He leaned to the side of her then, and she jerked back just as his lips barely brushed her cheek.

“Sorry.” Why was she apologizing?

“No, that’s alright. I didn’t mean — well, it’s the holidays. Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

She couldn’t answer him, her mind stuck on a Christmas only a year ago where a different man had kissed her cheek and wished her well for the holidays. It didn’t feel like a year ago; it felt like an age.

The taxi honked, and Adam got inside. It pulled away, leaving her out in the cold.

Laurel started walking, though not back to her apartment. She didn’t feel like going back there right away, disgusted as she was with herself. How many times had she represented women who felt uncomfortable in their workplace because of coworkers or superiors, and now here she was stuck in the same trap? Too scared to say anything for fear of losing the only purpose she had left. Assuming she would ever be given anything of purpose again. Her mind was chasing itself around in circles.

She didn’t want Mrs. Queen to be dead, but she wanted the city to feel that justice had been done. She wanted justice for Tommy.

But then, Moira Queen hadn’t helped to kill Tommy. Tommy was only gone because of her. Even her father hadn’t disagreed with her about that. He hadn’t said a word.

Laurel sagged against the railing she’d been using off and on to support herself. It was only now that she realized she was on the footpath of one of their bridges, heading towards the Glades. Maybe she could sneak into the Verdant for a drink while Thea and Oliver were both celebrating with their family and friends. Her father probably wouldn’t find out if she’d been there.

Was this what her life was now? Skirting around the corners of the people she knew and cared for? Stuck on the outside while they moved on with their lives? They wanted her to be happy like them, but she just couldn’t be. What was wrong with her?

Her hands found a little latch, and she stared at it for a moment. Someone had hitched a lock onto part of the railing. There were a few of them, actually. One was painted with a fading heart.

Oh. She remembered hearing about these. Love locks. She studied each one intently. Some were plain, some had pairs of initials written or painted on them. Little mementos to love that these people had.

She thought of Tommy, his declaration and the suitcase he’d packed anyway. She thought, too, of a tear-stained letter sitting in a drawer at her apartment. Never doubt my love for you. Oh, but she did.

Oliver had called her a hero, but he could see now she wasn’t. When had she ever really saved anyone? It was always someone else coming in, having to help her. The Hood, who probably hated her; her father, who was disappointed in her; Tommy, who had died because of her.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” she whispered to no one. Her head rested on the rail and she stared for a while at the water rushing by below. There was something almost hypnotic about it, knowing where it flowed out into the bay and joined the ocean, to the same water that had swallowed up Sara. The daughter who had died while she was the daughter who lived.

Lived instead of Sara, lived instead of Tommy. And for what? It would’ve been better for her to perish in the quake, or maybe at the prison riot or when the Triad had attacked her home, so she wouldn’t have broken Tommy’s heart. Maybe she should have been the one on that boat so her mother wouldn’t have felt so guilty and left, so her dad would still have his baby girl and not felt such a need to drink, so she wouldn’t be carrying this terrible guilt and loneliness within her heart.

She’d been drowning all these years anyway in those swirling dark depths.

Laurel lifted her head from the rail. The night air was whipping her hair around her face, but it was as if the chill couldn’t touch her now. Could she really just…?

What else did she have to lose? She swallowed, the film of alcohol feeling thick on her tongue. What left was there? She could wait around and let herself be shunned out of the DA’s office by Kate Spencer and her disapproving looks or by Adam when she turned him down one too many times. She could wait for her father’s mood to turn sour towards her again, as it always did ever since the Gambit had sunk. She could wait until Oliver felt like trying to talk to her again, those quick little bursts in between days or weeks of nothing, like she was a pot on the stove he checked every once in a while to make sure it didn’t boil over.

She was tired of waiting for things. Tired of everything. Laurel couldn’t see any other way forward, not on this cold December night.

It didn’t even enter her mind to leave a note. No one would find it for days, probably. And they just wouldn’t understand. Oliver had fought all those years to survive and come home. There was something I wanted more. He didn’t want her anymore. No one did. How would he understand her choice?

They could all pretend she had just slipped away quietly from the city. No body, no need for her dad to pay the funeral expenses. He was making less on a beat cop’s salary. Better for him not to have to buy the land for another empty grave. Better for everyone. It was her Christmas present to them all; not to have to deal with her anymore.

She stepped onto the lower half of the rail, her left heel getting caught in the spokes. Growling under her breath, she wriggled her foot around, trying to free it. She couldn’t take the shoe off: evidence.

Her hands gripped the rail, pulling herself up. The water was a roar in her ears drowning out everything. Even a distant shout.

“Hey!”

Laurel closed her eyes.

And then she was abruptly seized from behind.

—-

Barry was running late, as always.

After Captain Singh’s rather pointed phone call, he had left Felicity behind at Queen Consolidated to try and catch a train out to Central. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to make it, especially since he’d so far failed at flagging down the few taxis he’d spotted. Hardly anyone was out tonight, and why would they be? It was late, dark and cold, and the holidays were nearly upon them.

Barry was forced to revise his statement as he drew up to an intersection leading to a bridge. There was someone else out tonight besides him after all. A woman, standing at the railing and looking out at the water. Actually, she was very close to the rail. Almost too close.

She put her foot up onto it, and it clicked in his brain.

“Oh no,” Barry said to himself, and then he started running, his suitcase forgotten.

“Hey!”

The woman didn’t even startle at his shout. She was half leaned over the rail already.

With a burst of speed he hadn’t thought himself capable of and a stitch developing in his side, Barry cleared the footpath and raced down to the middle of the bridge. He did the first thing he could think of, which was to throw his arms around her middle.

It was maybe the wrong move.

Immediately she tried throwing him off her with a surprising amount of strength for someone so thin. It was all he could do to hold on so as to keep her from toppling over.

“Let go!”

“Sorry, really don’t want to do that!”

An elbow smashed into his face, narrowly missing his nose where it no doubt would have broken it. Barry staggered back but managed to keep his grip on the woman, with which his leverage was able to do the rest. She came off the rail, falling in a heap on top of him as he landed on his back in the footpath.

Her head lifted, eyes bleary and bloodshot. “What? Who- who are you?”

“Are you okay?” Barry asked once he got his breath back. He struggled to sit up. “Well, no, you’re not. But I meant, you’re not hurt?”

Her head shook slowly. Her breath smelled of alcohol, and he could tell now looking at her facial structure that she really was too thin.

“Can you tell me your name? I’m Barry,” he added, figuring it was best he went first.

“Laurel,” she answered.

“Laurel,” he repeated, “hi. Can you, um, tell me what you were doing out here? I mean why you wanted to…” Barry cringed at his own inability to say it, but her eyes followed his to the bridge railing.

“I, um. I was just…”

Like a switch went off in her brain, she was suddenly clinging to him desperately.

“I don’t know what I was— I don’t want to die, oh God!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he did his best to reassure her. Truthfully he felt incredibly relieved she’d come to that decision on her own.

“I don’t want to die, I just- I just wanted everything to stop,” she cried into his coat. Barry rubbed at her back and tried to think of something more meaningful to say.

“I’m sorry things are — well, you’re clearly having a rough time. Can I get you to somewhere? A family member or, or maybe the hospital?”

“No.” She shook her head and clutched onto him tighter. “I can’t— if my job found out, they’d put me on leave or suspend me. And I can’t put this on my father, I can’t.”

“Okay,” he agreed, hoping to calm her. “We don’t have to go anywhere.” She was shivering in his arms, though. “Maybe just somewhere to sit down? Come on.”

Barry helped her up and kept their arms linked as they walked off the bridge and back to the intersection. His suitcase had fallen onto its side, so he righted it and started wheeling it along behind them.

“Don’t you need to find a hotel?” She asked quietly, her voice sounding thick but her tears at last subsiding.

“No. Actually, I was on my way home.”

She looked back in the direction of the train station. “But you’ll miss the last one.”

“I probably already did. It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

He walked them around in circles a few times before finding a tiny cafe with their ‘open’ sign still lit up. Barry ushered her inside and to a table. He ordered a black coffee for her and a latte for himself, figuring she needed about as much caffeine as possible to fully sober up. She didn’t complain when he passed it to her, at the least, just cupped her hands around it and stared into the dark liquid.

“How much was it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She frowned didn’t argue. He must have been firm enough, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed with the choice she’d almost made. The latter sounded more believable.

Barry sat and sipped at his latte, watching for her to do the same with her coffee. She grimaced as it went down.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not the worst cup I’ve had,” she remarked. Then her lip trembled and she grabbed a napkin to wipe at her eyes with. “God, you must think I’m a basket case. You really don’t have to stay with me.”

“Well, I think someone should,” he told her honestly. “And you won’t go to your family, so it may as well be a friend.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to be my friend.”

“I feel like there’s gotta be someone in your life who would tell you that’s not true.”

She placed her coffee down and rubbed her hands over both temples. “The people in my life...they come and go when they feel like it. Or, um, when they need something. And I finally got sick of it, so I just pushed them all away. It’s not really their fault,” she added when he opened his mouth. “I’m not an easy person to be around, I guess. I’m emotional, clingy, stubborn. I take on more than I can handle, and then I need rescuing.”

“Have they said that?”

“Not in that many words. But I know there’s something wrong with me.” She said it so matter-of-factly it stunned him. Then, past the shock there was pain. How could someone have become so convinced of something like that?

“Would you still believe that once you’re sober?”

She exhaled on a shaky laugh. “I wish I could say no. I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done, well, that either. But I have a problem. I do, I can’t just ignore it anymore.”

“You said you wanted everything to stop,” Barry reminded her. “Is there a lot going on in your life right now?”

“Yes and no,” she sighed. “I, um, lost someone. Last spring in the Glades.”

“I’m sorry.” Barry had watched the news coverage. So had everyone. It had been hard to conceptualize that much destruction but now he was faced with the aftermath on an intensely personal level.

“It was...it could have been avoided.” Her gaze was back on her coffee cup. “And afterwards, I thought maybe I could keep going. I had, um, well I thought I had something with an old friend. But he left, and when he finally came back I just pushed him away. I pushed everyone away. And I don’t know how to fix that.”

“Well, maybe you should take some time off. I know you’re worried about your job, but it’s around the holidays anyway. You could take a couple days and just figure things out. Maybe visit somebody.”

She shook her head. A smile that was bitter twisted her lips. “I don’t have anyone to visit.”

“No extended family? College friends?” Barry wasn’t ready to give up trying.

“Just a mom who lives in Central.”

He face lit up with a smile. “Hey, that’s my city!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And it’s great there, especially around the holidays. They put a big tree up and the streets are all lined with lights. There’s a lot to do.”

“You work for the tourism board or something?”

He grinned. If she wanted to make jokes at his expense, that was fine. Joking was much better than the defeated tone she’d had before. “Nope. People from out of town say we’re all like this. Have you been to your mom’s?”

She shook her head.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I only found out she was staying there less than a year ago,” she told him. “It’s a long story.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

She let out a watery chuckle, wiping at her eyes. “Yeah.” Her hands came away stained with mascara. “Do you mind if I go to the ladies’ for a second?” She stood up, but paused at the table. “I promise I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

“Okay,” Barry agreed slowly. He wasn’t an expert in this, but he thought he ought to show her some trust. She stood up on much steadier legs and went down the little hallway in the back. Barry hunched over and placed his head in his hands. Breathing in and out helped to bring down the stress he’d barely been hiding.

He knew, of course, this sort of thing happened. Especially around the holidays. Officers at the precinct trained for it, how to de-escalate the situation and keep the person from doing harm to themselves. He had no idea if he was following the right protocol, and despite the late hour he badly wanted to call Joe for some advice.

Barry checked his watch as the barista went into the back storeroom for something. It had been a few minutes. Should he check on her? Listen at the door? Was that wrong?

His worrying abruptly cut off when, out of nowhere, a dart embedded itself into his neck and he lost consciousness.

Barry awoke in a chair in a darkened room, Felicity Smoak swimming into view in front of him. “Wha—?”

His head jerked around. There was Oliver Queen’s bodyguard and something on a table. Rows and rows of green-tipped arrows. The Vigilante. This had to be his base.

But where— what had happened to Laurel? How long had he been out? Had anyone checked on her? Oh God—

“Barry.” Felicity had stepped forward and forcefully took hold of his hands to redirect his focus. “Please save my friend.”

Her friend, as it turned out, was Oliver Queen. Oliver Queen, as it turned out, was also the vigilante.

The next several minutes were a blur. Oliver was close to death, and the only treatment available was risky at best. The rat poison got him to stop flailing, thankfully, and after a while his vitals came back stable.

“Okay. Keep monitoring him,” Barry told Felicity and Diggle. “I just have to go back—”

“Back where?” Felicity cried. “Barry, we found you in a cafe instead of the train station. Would have taken us forever by the way if I hadn’t pinged your phone.”

“You pinged my phone?” Barry blinked. That wasn’t important right now. “Okay, well there’s sort of an important—”

“This is important. This is Oliver’s life we’re talking about here!”

“What if he starts seizing again while you’re gone?” Diggle pointed out with a frown.

Barry deflated. He didn’t want to have to choose between two people, but the likelihood Laurel was even still at the cafe was probably slim. And he couldn’t exactly explain to the other two the situation; they clearly hadn’t seen her and might not even believe him. To their eyes, it probably looked like he was trying to sneak away so he could tell the authorities about all of this.

So he slumped back into his chair.

Oliver eventually woke up and was remarkably rude for someone who’s life Barry had just saved. Then he and the others still needed help tracking down Cyrus Gold. When Barry did finally have a quiet moment to himself, he jogged back to the little cafe. There were other patrons there now, but no Laurel. He jogged over to the bridge and didn’t find anything of note there either, though if she had come back here hours ago...his insides squirmed.

Barry was called back to administer a test on Oliver’s blood to see if anything was still in his system. He worried over both problems for a time, occupying his hands with molding a mask out of tripolymer fabric for Oliver.

There was nothing in Oliver’s blood but he still had to go face Cyrus Gold a final time. Barry’s phone had been going off with calls and texts from first Joe and then Iris, which he couldn’t really ignore forever. He finally left Felicity and Diggle in their base and got on the train, getting out his Harrison Wells biography to try and clear his mind.

Had he done enough? Did Laurel really believe there were things or people in her life worth going on for? What if he’d failed?

These worries plagued him through the whole day. He couldn’t come up with anything substantial to tell Iris about his trip. He couldn’t stop the guy who stole her purse and got hit in the face for his trouble. He could barely concentrate on the coverage of the particle accelerator on the news in his lab.

Instead, he took out his phone and dialed Felicity to let her know he’d made it back and to inform her about the gift he’d left behind for Oliver. Though as he thought about the vigilante, an idea came to him.

“Actually, if I could ask Oliver a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s a personal one.” He didn’t exactly feel comfortable relating something so sensitive through a game of telephone. “Could you give him the phone?”

“Okay,” Felicity said after a short pause. He heard her calling to Oliver, slightly muffled.

A few moments later, he heard the man’s voice. “The favor?”

Right to the chase, okay. “Um, yeah. I was hoping you could — I mean, I know it’s not really your area of what you normally do with your night job and it might be a little hopeless—”

“Barry,” Oliver said, indicating he was meant to wrap it up.

“When Felicity and Diggle went to get me, I was in a cafe.”

“They told me.”

“Right, well I was there instead of waiting for a train because I- I met somebody. Somebody who was having kind of a rough time. And I’m worried about her.”

There was a pause. “Barry, I’m not really sure what you’re asking me to do here.”

He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. This was a lot harder to just come out and say than he’d thought. “I’m asking you to find out if she’s okay, because when I met her she was trying to go over the bridge, Oliver.”

“Oh.” It was more a soft exhalation than the word itself. “I’m sorry they pulled you away from that.”

“Yeah, well, you did need medical attention. I just didn’t know how to find her after, and I guess I’m hoping you can.” Maybe the Arrow wasn’t most people’s first choice to run wellness checks, but Barry felt Oliver did truly care about the citizens of his city. Even if he hid that under a hood.

“Did you have her address? A family contact?” Oliver asked only moments later, proving Barry right.

He shook his head, then realized that wasn’t very productive. “No, she was pretty adamant not to involve her family. Her father, she said that specifically,” he remembered. “I wish I’d been able to get a picture of her for you or something, but I only have the name she gave me: Laurel.”

The line went dead silent on the other end for a long moment, long enough that Barry lifted the phone away from his ear to check if the call was still going. It was. “Oliver?”

“You—” Oliver had to pause and try again; his voice had cracked. “You’re sure she said Laurel?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I have to go.” There was a sound on the other end, some kind of muffled thump and then Felicity’s voice rather close calling Oliver’s name — he must have passed the phone back to her.

“Barry, what’s going on? Why did Oliver say Laurel’s name?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say in the face of evidence that Oliver and his team knew a Laurel. Was she the same one Barry had met? The same lonely, desperate woman who didn’t seem to think her loved ones would have missed her much or cared? What did that say?

“It’s probably best he tells you,” Barry eventually decided. It wasn’t his place. At the least, Oliver knew exactly how to find Laurel and could make certain she was alright. That eased some of his worry. “I should get off the phone.” He was waiting on Joe’s call for a ride from the precinct, after all. “Goodbye, Felicity.”

She said her goodbye as well, and Barry put away his phone. Maybe now his conscience would be eased, especially if Oliver let him know what he found out.

Of course, Barry would end up having to wait a very long time for that.

—-

Oliver changed and left the base without opening Barry’s gift or answering either of his team member’s questions. There was only one thought in his mind: she was trying to go over the bridge, Oliver.

His heart was in his throat as he reached apartment 305 and knocked on the door. “Laurel? Please, if you’re at home, can you open the door?”

He couldn’t hear anything. Oliver took out his phone, noticing one missed call from Felicity already. He ignored the notification and instead called Laurel’s cell phone.

After a few rings, it sent him to her voicemail. “Hi, this is Laurel. I’m either at work or otherwise unavailable. Leave your name and number with a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Laurel, it’s Oliver. Please call me.” He didn’t bother with his number. He knew she had it.

When a second round of knocking at her door produced no response, he went to the outside of the building and it’s fire escape. This was the first time he’d ever entered this way without his vigilante suit on, but he’d explain himself after he saw her.

Except Laurel wasn’t home. He couldn’t find anything out of place. There wasn’t any food sitting out abandoned or something big and obvious missing. It just looked like she had stepped out for some indeterminate amount of time.

Like forever.

He was dialing her number again before he realized, and it rang and rang. Ringing was good. It meant her phone was on and working. It wasn’t broken in a fall or dead in the water.

“Still Oliver. Just, whenever you can, Laurel, please.”

He took his bike over to the DA’s office, but it was clear at this time of night, no one was there. All the lights were off. He still slipped inside to have a look. Her desk was tidy. It didn’t look like anything was wrong.

But Laurel didn’t normally have a tidy desk. It was covered in papers and post it notes and pens, some of which bore bite marks on the lid. A tidy desk looked normal on the outside, but it spoke of something wrong to someone who really knew her.

Just like Laurel’s behavior had been the last two months. He’d tried to push his worries about it aside when she pushed back. He’d told himself he it wasn’t his place. Lord, what had he done?

His phone rang, and he scrambled to pick it up. “Laurel?”

“No, Felicity. You know, the girl you left behind in the base along with John without any kind of explanation?”

Oliver grit his teeth as he walked back out to his bike. “I don’t have time.”

“We’re your team, we’re supposed to help you when you don’t have time. So what’s this about Laurel? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted in a small voice. “I can’t — can you trace her phone? I have one more lead I can follow.”

“Okay,” Felicity agreed, though he could hear her frustration at not being given the answers she’d wanted. He just couldn’t say it out loud, he wasn’t ready to put the words out there. To possibly make them real.

Oliver parked his bike outside of Starling General, sneaking his way past the front desk to head up to Lance’s room. He already knew the location, having visited him as the Arrow only hours ago. Hours that could have been crucial to someone they both cared for. Hours they hadn’t realized they were taking for granted.

Whatever guilt he felt about possibly waking the man up dissipated when Quentin Lance immediately blinked his eyes open at his entrance. His injuries were likely making sleep hard to come by. The guilt returned tenfold.

“...Queen? What’re you doing here?” There was confusion more than anything in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Officer Lance. I just was wondering if you’d seen Laurel in—” his heart dropped as he realized just how long it had been since he’d seen her himself. “—the last week or so? I wanted to see how she was doing. I know the holidays have been, uh, hard for you both.”

Lance snorted, or tried to. “Yeah, this one’s not looking to be any better. They called her after I was checked in. She’s my contact. They said she was having trouble getting here. Something about a train.”

“A train?” Oliver couldn’t help the sharpness in his voice. What would Laurel have been around a train for, unless—?

“Yeah, they said something about it...you alright?”

“I— yes, I’m fine. Thank you, Officer Lance.”

“Yeah, well, never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad she’s got you looking out for her.”

Oliver could only offer a tight, closed-lipped smile that probably barely passed muster before fleeing the room.

He hadn’t done enough to look after her. And he could blame her anti-Hood stance or the court case against his mother all he wanted, but in the end he’d asked Laurel to be in his life without really offering her the same. He’d been a coward, too afraid she might judge him for the mistakes he’d made since coming back from the island. With each mission he took on at night, each secret he kept, it became easier to just hold her at arm’s length. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d left her all alone.

Had he left her to drown?

Oliver stopped outside the hospital, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit, his head in his hands. He couldn’t bare the idea of checking, of calling it in. What it would do to her family and to him. He couldn’t lose her like this, God. He wasn’t sure if he was pleading or praying.

His phone rang twice before he had the presence of mind to pick it up. “...hello?”

“Oliver, you sound terrible. What is happening?” Felicity demanded.

“Did you find something?” He asked, wiping furiously at his cheeks wet with tears.

“I did. I’m just not sure — her phone says she’s at the Central City train station.”

It took a moment to process. “Central?”

“Yes.”

The nurses had told Lance something about a train, that she was having trouble getting to the hospital because of it. Ticket trouble. Or scheduling. Something gloriously mundane.

Just as his heart started to beat normally again, Felicity continued. “But it’s not a good place to be right now. I checked the news. Oliver, the particle accelerator that launched tonight exploded.”

“Exploded?”

“The whole city’s lost power. I- I can’t reach Barry,” Felicity added in a trembling voice. “He’s just not answering.”

The same way Laurel wasn’t.

Oliver took a deep breath and pushed up onto his feet. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Oliver—”

“I’m going there.” If Laurel was there, then that was where he needed to be. He hung up, neither ready nor willing to participate in a drawn out argument.

Barry had talked Laurel out of it, that much was clear. For that, he would always be grateful to the scientist, no matter what had become of him in this explosion.

But Laurel’s fate may still have been cruelly decided. A chill that had nothing to do with the December air went through him at the thought, sinking into his very bones.

He had to get to her. Do whatever he could. Try, completely this time. He might never get the chance again.

—-

Laurel groaned as she sat up, trying to shake the ringing in her ears. It nearly covered up the sound of approaching sirens, but then as those got louder they blended together making everything hurt worse.

She had to laugh at herself. She really did have the worst ideas. The laugh turned into a cough as she rubbed at her throat. Ugh, why did that have to hurt, too? She must have really shouted when that train…

“Never listen to a Jiminy Cricket before Christmas,” she managed to grumble to herself.

At least, that’s what she’d decided the tall, lanky man named Barry had been. A figment of a Good Samaritan she’s made up for herself, who had disappeared the minute she had turned her back with only a half-drunk latte to prove he might have once been there. It could have been anyone’s, really. She’d been half-drunk when they’d stumbled into the little shop.

Laurel had chosen to take Barry’s advice and get out of her normal routine for a couple of days. She hadn’t said anything to anyone before packing; in the sober light of day, she was ashamed and terrified of what she had almost done and knew the others would feel the same with a healthy dash of disappointment. She just had to keep moving, even if nothing ever got better.

Laurel had packed an overnight bag and boarded an early train to Central by the time Thea’s text had come through asking if she could stop by the house to help her and her friends with something. Laurel had felt a pang of regret but written back that she wasn’t able to for a couple of days. Thea had said that was fine and wished her a happy holiday. Laurel had been glad no one she knew was around to see her eyes water at that simple sentiment. Thea probably hadn’t known just how much that meant to her.

She’d arrived in Central in daylight, so the strings of lights down the streets had not been lit. Still, for a city, it held the feel of a small town somehow, everyone smiling and happy. She’d found herself able to breathe easier because of it. At least until it had started to get dark and she’d known she needed to either find or hotel or head to her mother’s.

Laurel had the address written down on a scrap of paper from one of the last times they’d talked. If she’d gone there, would she have been able to tell her mother what had almost happened?

It hadn’t come to it. She had gotten a call.

“May I speak to Dinah Lance?”

“This is her daughter,” Laurel had responded automatically, her mind having still been on her mother.

“We have a Dinah L. Lance listed as the emergency contact for Officer Quentin Lance?”

“Oh! Yes, that’s me. You — is this the hospital?”

“Yes. Your father was admitted early this evening due to sustaining injuries in a raid. He’s in surgery.”

Laurel’s hand had gone over her mouth. “Will he be alright?”

“He came in in better condition than some of the other members of the unit,” the desk nurse had told her. “The doctors will know more later. You’re welcome to come wait to speak to them.”

Laurel had looked around herself, feeling totally helpless as she’d admitted. “I’m six-hundred miles away. I- I took a trip.”

Why did every decision she made end up hurting someone she cared about?

“That’s alright. We’ll let him know.”

“No, tell him I’m on my way back. I’ll be on the next train, I promise.”

She’d hurried back to the train station, finding it full of last-minute travelers for the holidays. After standing in line for what had felt an age, it had finally been her turn.

“I need a one-way ticket for the first train that gets to Starling.”

“You missed the previous one by fifteen minutes,” the person at the booth had informed her, and Laurel had barely held in a curse. “Next one comes in an hour.”

“Okay, fine, that one. Please.”

She’d stood on the platform with a handful of others, her arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. A television mounted in one corner near the ceiling had displayed a news woman in what had appeared to be a growing storm outside.

“Wait, we're now being told to evacuate the facility. The storm may have caused a malfunction to the primary cooling system. Officials are now trying to shut down the particle accelerator, but so far, have been unable to regain control of the system—”

Abruptly, the TV and then the lights had cut out. Yelps of surprise and alarm had gone up throughout the building.

There’s been a tremendous boom from outside, and Laurel’s hair had stood up on the back of her neck.

The horn of the approaching train had been a loud blare as it had turned the corner into the station, driving blind in the total dark. Laurel had been jostled as people had pushed at each other in a blind panic to move as far back as possible. She’d tripped and cried out as a strange, translucent ripple of something had knocked into her, throwing her off her feet, and then—

She’d woken up on the same train platform.

“Alright, folks, the generator should kick in in a minute,” a voice called out. Flashlight beams danced over them all. Then there was a flicker and a hum, and Laurel was blinking back spots in her vision from the sudden flood of light.

“Any more injuries?” The same voice asked next.

Laurel looked herself over. Aside from the soreness and the ringing that was slowly fading away, she didn’t think she needed a hospital. One leg of her pantyhose had scraped in the fall; they resembled fishnets more than anything else.

Laurel heard a new ringing, this time coming from her pocket. She took out her phone, surprised to see the notification that she had four missed calls already and two messages. The fifth call was still was still ringing: Ollie.

Laurel hit the accept button and cleared her throat. “Hello?”

“Laurel!” It was a shout, but not one of anger or frustration. She wasn’t sure the last time she’d heard Oliver sound so relieved and overjoyed at once. “Oh, thank God.”

“Ollie?”

“Are you still at the train station?”

“I — how did you know that?”

“Laurel, where are you?”

“Yes, I’m at the station. In Central City,” she added, though for some reason he seemed to already know that.

Her suspicion was confirmed when he said, “I’ll be there in eight and a half hours.”

“Why?”

There was a pause. “Laurel, there was an explosion.”

“I know that. I just—” It didn’t make sense, how intensely he cared and then the distance he would immediately put up after. “I’m okay. I just had a fall.”

And her throat felt funny, but that was likely a cold more than anything.

“Get checked out at the hospital.”

“Oliver—”

“Please? I’ll cover anything your insurance doesn’t.” He really was pleading, she realized. He was borderline hysterical.

“Okay,” she agreed hesitantly.

“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I — please stay safe.”

He hung up. Laurel sat there, blinking at her phone, until a man in a paramedic’s uniform came over to her.

“You alright, miss?”

“I think so? My, uh, friend thinks I should head to the hospital. I fell when the power went out.”

He nodded. “Alright, we’ll make sure you get checked out.”

Laurel was taken over to Central City General along with a number of others. A small clinic-style area had been set up to one side where a nurse shined a light in her eyes and had her follow her finger around.

“Any headache or nausea?”

“Not really. Just a sore throat.”

“Hm.” The nurse got out a tongue depressor and looked in her mouth with a flashlight, then felt around her throat. The nurse stepped away after that, leaving Laurel a clipboard with which to fill out her information. She did so, pausing at the spot where an emergency contact was meant to be filled in. Her whole life, she’d put down her father’s information, but with him already in the hospital it made little sense. She thought of putting her mother, but the poor woman didn’t even realize Laurel was in the same city right now.

In the end, she wrote down Oliver’s name and number, glancing around furtively as though someone was about to pop up and judge her for it. He already knew she was here, had insisted on it himself.

The nurse came back after a time with a harried-looking doctor. Laurel had to wonder how busy they all were and why they were bothering with her at all.

“You came in here with a sore throat you say you weren’t experiencing before the explosion?” He asked her with no preamble. Laurel nodded. He took his own turn examining the inside of her mouth and feeling around her neck. “Could be strep. You might have gotten it before and only noticed the symptoms now. Vocal nodes is unlikely, but we’re perhaps not quite able to rule it out—”

“Vocal nodes?” Asked an unfamiliar voice. Laurel turned her head to see a man in a wheelchair roll closer to her cot. He had rather piercing eyes behind his glasses. “A very interesting theory and result if true.”

Her doctor gave an uncomfortable cough. “Dr. Wells, you really shouldn’t be up so soon.”

Dr. Wells tipped his head in acknowledgment of that. “Forgive me. I couldn’t lie still in bed knowing what my mistake has cost so many people. I thought if I might be able to make myself useful…”

“That’s quite alright,” Laurel’s doctor said with a fair amount of force. “I’m very sure it’s strep.”

“All the same.” Dr. Wells took a card out of his pocket and set it on the end of Laurel’s cot. “If you find yourself in need of any assistance, Miss- ah—”

“Lance,” Laurel filled in for him.

“Of course.” A smile curved his lips and his eyes practically seemed to glint. “Miss Lance. My lab would be happy to do whatever we can.”

“Thank you.” Laurel picked up the card. She’d surmised as much, but the STAR Labs logo beside his name confirmed this was the scientist who had set off this whole disaster. Laurel pocketed the card, internally making a note to stay about as far away from someone that crazy as possible.

With another smile, he moved on towards the ICU, judging by the signage on the wall.

Her doctor shook his head. “I suggest you see a primary care physician about prescribing you an antibiotic for strep.”

Laurel nodded. “Am I free to go?”

“If you aren’t experiencing any other trouble, yes.”

Laurel slid off her cot and took her bag with her out to the waiting room, sitting amongst worried family members and friends of the patients still being treated. The mood was somber, with some being shown to rooms and others leaving in tears as the hours passed.

Late in the night or perhaps early in the morning, she saw an older officer enter and head to the desk, visibly distressed.

“I’m looking for Barry Allen.”

“Barry,” Laurel muttered to herself. Not the most common name, and a Barry in Central City? She started to stand.

“Laurel!”

Laurel jumped, turning back to the doors. “Oliver!”

He’d said eight and a half hours. It had been seven. She had no idea how fast he must have been going to shave down that travel time, or how he’d avoided getting ticketed at all. Oliver was in front of her in the next instant, pulling her into a hug so tight she forgot to breath for a moment.

“Thank God,” she heard him murmur again into her hair. Then his lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Ollie, I- I’m really fine.” She pulled back to look at him, surprised to see tears in his eyes. “Are you fine?”

He swallowed, shaking his head. “Am I— I’m sorry. So sorry. I knew you weren’t okay, and I should have done more. God, what could have happened.”

Laurel’s heart dropped. The way he was talking, it was almost like he knew. “Ollie, how…?”

“Barry told me.”

Her jaw dropped. About a million questions occurred to her in that instant. How had Barry figured out who she was? Why had he contacted Oliver? How had he contacted Oliver? Barry was even real?

“I could have lost you,” Oliver was saying.

Laurel’s throat felt like it was burning, but she knew it had little to do with any illness. “Please, not here.”

He looked around the waiting room, as if noticing all the other people for the first time. Some of them were staring while others were still lost in their own troubles. Oliver collected himself and then nodded, leading her by the hand out of the hospital.

It had stopped raining, at least, and wasn’t as cold as she might have thought. Or maybe that was the heat in her cheeks as she cast a glance at him. “I told him not to tell anybody.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough that he heard her.

“He didn’t know we knew each other,” he said.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Then why tell you at all? How would you have even met him?”

Oliver sighed. “That’s...that’s a long story. One I should have told you a long time ago. I’m so sorry.”

Her hands curled into fists so that her nails dug into the palms. “Why are you apologizing? This was my fault. Nobody told me to- to climb up onto a bridge railing and almost — how can you even look at me knowing I almost did that?” He was supposed to be furious with her. Not this. She didn’t know how to deal with this.

“I’m not going to judge you, Laurel. I would never judge you for this.”

“Shouldn’t you? It was so stupid.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m- I’m a mess or broken or something. I have to be.”

“I nearly killed myself on the island,” he stated, point-blank.

She looked back around at him, a sharp pain in her chest. “What—”

“One of the people that tortured me,” he told her quietly, never breaking eye contact. “He left me in a cell with a gun. I was drugged and in pain, and I couldn’t see a way out of it or how coming home would be of benefit to any of my loved ones. I thought I would only ruin them. And I picked up the gun.”

He’d told her once there’d been times he had wanted to die. To know he’d come so close to acting on it...Laurel took a step closer. “What stopped you?”

“You,” he answered simply to her shock. “I saw you. A few times, actually, over those years. But you spoke to me. You told me that if I ended it there, then the people we both cared about who had already died, it would have been for nothing. And that you and my mother and Thea needed me to come home.”

Laurel’s eyes were stinging. It hadn’t been real, of course. They both knew that. But to know that she had mattered that much to him, that the semblance of her presence could pull someone back from the brink, it was almost too much.

“You’ve been through so much. So much more than me.”

He shook his head. “You’ve been through more than people realize. My pain, it’s easy for people to see. They see the scars, they know about my time away. I was on an island and, for the most part, so alone. But you...Laurel, you’ve been surrounded by people and yet you’ve been just as alone as I was.”

“Some of that was my fault,” she insisted. “I could have reached out or listened. I do have a problem, you and my father were right.”

“But we didn’t reach you. That’s the thing. In my darkest moments, you’ve been there for me. And I haven’t been there for you.” His gaze was shame-filled now. “I left you on your island, and I went back to my own.”

“I haven’t really been there, Ollie. You imagined me. The real me, I’m—”

“Damaged. We both are,” he agreed. “But maybe we can finally help each other for real.”

He seemed so earnest and sure. She wanted with all her heart to believe him, but the doubts still nagged at her. “You really mean that?”

“I do.” Oliver took her hands. “I know you have every reason not to trust me. That’s okay. I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove it to you. Just promise me if you ever feel the way you did that night, if you ever start thinking that way again, you talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be to me. Just someone.” His eyes were practically begging her. “We all care so much about you, Laurel. I couldn’t imagine it if we lost you.”

There was a lump in her throat now that she swallowed down. The pain she’d been feeling there seemed to be lessening as well, or maybe she just was feeling too much right now to really pay it any mind. “I promise. The same goes for you.”

Oliver let go of her hands, only to cup her face and kiss her forehead. Laurel stood there, loosely gripping his forearms and letting the moment simply hang in the air between them.

“I promise,” he echoed.

She nodded and finally stepped back. “I was trying to get home to see my father. He’s in the hospital.”

“I’ve seen him. He’s stable, but it’s going to take some recovery,” he told her, a frown pulling his lips down. Some of that shame was back in his eyes. “We’ll take the first plane out of here so we can get you there.”

Laurel accepted his arm but kept hold of her bag as they started walking away from the hospital. “You’re not paying for my ticket.”

“I’m insisting that I do. Please? I lost track of the time and couldn’t really get gifts for anyone this year.”

The corner of her mouth turned up. “Well, then I’m buying your ticket since I forgot presents this year too.” They didn’t really touch on why; that for one terrible night she’d thought she wouldn’t be around to give them.

“Actually, I’m asking for your company at the Verdant for my Christmas gift. No drinks, I promise,” he added.

“Then why?”

“There’s a lot I want to tell you. And show you, if you’ll let me.” The completely serious look to his face and tone of his voice let her know this was absolutely not some kind of come on. A part of her was relieved; she was not in the right frame of mind for that kind of thing. “I think it should help us both.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be there,” she agreed after a moment. Then Laurel hugged his arm. “Merry Christmas, Ollie.”

He smiled for her, not the playboy smirk or CEO grin. Just Oliver. “Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

If she’d known a year ago at that party with Tommy just where he life would have ended up a year from then, she would have never believed it. A part of her still didn’t. But there was no going back; only forward. Whatever it took, she and Oliver would do it together.

—-

Nine months later

Barry had a lot to process upon waking up from a coma that had lasted the better part of a year. STAR Labs and Dr. Wells were in disgrace, Iris had a boyfriend and only just when he’d finally gotten abs. Even if the reason why was almost impossible to believe.

But the impossible was exactly what he’d been looking for.

Barry had been disappointed when Dr. Wells shot down his idea to help protect the city from the emerging metahuman threat as Cisco and Caitlin had helpfully explained to him the term was. On top of that, Joe was angry at him for insisting Clyde Mardon was still alive and had weather-controlling powers. So he’d decided to seek out another source for advice.

He hadn’t really known what Oliver would say when he’d called him up, but the man had directed him to meet him on top of a roof in his home city of Starling. With his new powers, Barry had actually made it there just ahead of the archer, who came to stand there in his suit and the mask Barry had made for him.

He then explained his situation as best he could without getting bogged down in the details. “I know it sounds crazy,” he admitted, even if the one case he’d helped Oliver on had involved an out of the ordinary situation of its own.

“Not as crazy as you might think,” Oliver replied. The cryptic response had Barry raising his eyebrows. “I know you’re right about the explosion causing people to exhibit abilities. The man who was making the Mirakuru found that out the hard way when he tried to abduct Laurel.”

“Laurel!” Barry blurted. It all came back to him in that moment, the bridge and the cafe. He felt incredible guilt for not thinking to ask before. “You found her? She’s okay?”

“Yeah. She’s doing a lot better,” Oliver told him, and his face lit up with a smile Barry had never really seen on the archer’s face before.

“So, you do know her?” It had seemed that way based on the vigilante’s reaction during that phone call they’d had all those months ago. Barry could only be glad he’d chosen the right thing to do.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other a long time. Actually, we, uh, we made things official last month. Again,” the archer muttered. If Barry wasn’t mistaken, there was a redness under his scruff.

He was too busy beaming to care. “That’s great! I’m so glad to hear that.” Nine months really could change things! Barry was happy to finally hear about something that had decidedly changed for the better.

“Yeah. She wanted to meet you up here, too, when you called, but her sister’s in town. They’re probably about fifty rooftops that way,” Oliver said, pointing out across the city.

“That’s great,” Barry repeated, still grinning. He’d known there had to be people in her life who cared! Something Oliver had said occurred to him, though. “Wait, Laurel has powers?”

Oliver nodded. “We think so. She took your advice about a trip to Central and was there when the particle accelerator exploded.” Barry winced, but Oliver continued, “It might have ended up saving her life. We’ve been testing it on our own for a while.”

“In the field?”

Oliver nodded. “That’s why I know you’re cut out for this life, Barry. With your powers, you and Laurel can do things I could never hope to. You can be better than me, for your city. Watching over it like a guardian angel, making a difference. Saving people in a flash.”

Barry left the rooftop in much higher spirits than when he’d arrived. For the heck of it, he sped over in the direction Oliver had indicated Laurel might be in; a part of him wanted to see how she was doing for himself.

As Barry ran, he noticed a couple odd things happening ahead of him. There were two people on a rooftop. Two women in fact, but neither Barry recognized. One was a blonde in black leather. The other was younger and had dark hair hidden under a hood and a quiver of arrows. In slow motion, he watched her fire off three in quick succession towards the blonde woman, who stood there defenseless.

The lightning he was only just starting to really understand flickered behind his eyes, and Barry raced forward, pushing the blonde out of the path of the arrows. He turned back and faced the brunette, who immediately took a swipe at him with her bow, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

Barry didn’t quite dodge her swing and he landed hard on the roof’s surface, the wind knocked out of him. “Come on, come on,” he wheezed, trying to figure out how to access his powers once again.

“What the hell!” The blonde exclaimed. She rolled onto her feet first, charging the brunette who had nearly aimed an arrow at Barry in the meantime. He watched as they exchanged a series of punches and kicks, seemingly evenly matched. “Thea, why are you doing this?”

“Sara!” A voice called in the distance, one he thought he recognized. Hurried footsteps clanged on metal. A fire escape, he realized dimly. “Get back!”

A high-pitched scream the likes of which he’d never heard pierced the air, as over Barry’s head the air seemed to ripple in waves with the sound. The blonde had leapt back out of the way, leaving the brunette — Thea? — to get knocked onto her back by the force of it. Barry looked back towards the source just as the sound cut off.

He was met with the sight of a far different Laurel than the woman he had met. Her hair was a much lighter shade, for one thing. She wore a jean jacket, flannel shirt and dark pants rather than the more formal pantsuit and coat combo she’d had on the last time. Her face had a healthy fullness to it and there was strength in her stance.

The woman he had met hadn’t known how to go on living; this woman was very much alive.

She ran to who was obviously her sister. “Sara! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the help. And thanks to that guy, even if I have no idea where the hell he came from.”

Laurel looked around at him and her eyes widened. “Barry!”

“Hey. Just wanted to say hi while I was in the neighborhood.” He accepted her hand to help get back onto his feet. “Wasn’t really expecting a fight.”

“Well, I’m glad you found it,” she remarked. Her gaze landed on the attacker next. “Thea...I don’t understand.”

The sisters stood over the unconscious woman — closer to a girl, really, with her small build and delicate features. Barry came over and crouched down, lifting one of the girl’s eyelids. “She’s been drugged. Did you see? She was totally out of it.”

“I thought she was sober,” said Sara.

“She is. Or she’s supposed to be,” Laurel answered. “Oliver hasn’t heard from her in a bit since everything with Moira…”

The sisters exchanged a solemn look. Then Sara’s expression darkened further.

“It’s gotta be Merlyn.”

“Malcolm?” Laurel asked in surprise.

“That’s why I’m here. The League received intelligence he survived the Undertaking, and Ra’s wants proof. I’m supposed to find him so he can be brought back to answer to his violations of the League’s code.” Sara looked over at him. “I think you saved me from some kind of setup.”

Barry’s posture straightened slightly. Maybe slightly on accident, he’d already started to prove Oliver right.

“We need to get Thea to her brother,” Laurel decided, scooping the girl up into her arms. Sara took possession of the bow and quiver of arrows Thea had been carrying. Then Laurel cast him an apologetic smile. “I wish we had more time to talk.”

“That’s okay. We can catch up later,” Barry told her. “You have enough going on. And I have to be getting back.”

They shared a nod, each knowing what wasn’t being said. That there would be time to talk. Much more time.

Barry left Laurel standing on a rooftop, no longer worried about his new friend. She’d found her way out of the dark.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #barry allen #oliver queen #arrow #the flash #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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