#possible trigger warnings

[dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Title: Exhausted

Rated: Mature

Relationship: James “Logan” Howlett x Older AFAB Reader

Characters: Logan, Reader, Children of Reader (Johnathan, Leilynni, Alexander)

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy, Discussion of Postpartum Depression and Mental Health, Logan Has Super Sperm (lol), OBGYN Office More Interested that The Wolverine is the father than Helping the Reader,

Summary: The reader worries so much over not having heard from Logan during the passing storm that she barely sleeps especially with a sick child.

Keep Reader on Ao3

You knew Logan would be fine. You did but the storm had been bad. The radio said tornadoes had touched down. It sounded close to the construction site if your memory was right. Everyone slept fine except your youngest and you. He was coughing a bunch in the night, the rain irritating his asthma, and you had to give him medicine.

The next morning, it was clear skies and warm. When you texted Logan, he didn’t reply so you set an alarm to try again in thirty minutes knowing he should be home soon.

You’re trying really hard not to go crazy. Your youngest son, an eight-year-old named Alexander, you decided to keep him home, so he was in your bed watching YouTube videos of others playing video games. The older two: your eldest son, a 16-year-old named Johnathan (and a fourth to boot), was getting dressed and chatting to his partner via his phone (sort of), Cameron; and your middle child, a 12 year-old girl named Leilynni, named in honor of your deceased Mom, was taking forever in the bathroom.

You were heating their microwave breakfasts because traveling for an hour to and from school was rough on growing bodies. While it heated up, you grabbed things for afternoon snacks that the two liked and stuffed them in their front pouches along with their now-filled water bottles. Having a kid in each grade level was amazing and tiresome. You were more exhausted from not sleeping well, worried about Logan due to the storm than anything else.

A vision appeared in your mind of Logan walking through the front door with a smile. He gets hugs before taking off his shoes and once he can take his boots off, Alexander comes running up and clings to his waist.

You sigh heavily with relief and close your eyes, clutching your chest with a smile on your lips.

“Told ya,” chimed the pre-teen.

“Shut up,” you quickly silenced her before returning to the microwave. “Be happy I feed you two breakfasts.”

“What about elevenses?” Your eldest teasingly asked.

“Yeah, we only get Luncheon,” Leilynni playfully pointed out.

Your microwave dinged and the sound of a familiar truck engine was heard outside.

“Logan!” Yelled the two as they walked over to the door.

And just like in your vision, he is greeted by the eldest two demanding hugs before he can even toe off his boots. He grins and laughs. “Get your stuff before you miss the bus,” he reminds them. He had just enough time to step out of both his boots as little feet came thumping down the hallway. “Loga—!” Alex cried which turned into a coughing fit as he continued to run into the man and hug Logan’s waist. He reached down, leaned his head back as he held Alex against him waiting for him to finish coughing. The eight-year-old wiped his nose on his arm and hugged Logan around the neck. The two eldest walked by then and greeted them both “bye”.

You stood behind the island with a lopsided grin watching him with another man’s son, treating him as his own. It always makes your chest warm and tight. It made you love him more.

Logan hugged the boy tightly, taking him to his room. You could hear the two chatting about video games, which you knew Logan had limited knowledge of thanks to Johnathan and you. He knew the questions to ask to understand more and Alex couldn’t get enough of explaining it to someone else.

You put Logan’s boots away, swept what little dirt did track inside, and finished cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast.

“You eat yet?” You called.

“No,” Logan yelled back.

You took out a pan and worked on making the three of you bacon and eggs.

“Toast, biscuits, or crescent rolls?” You hollered.

“Crescent rolls!” Alex hollered back. You chuckle at that.

Forty or so minutes later, breakfast was done and everyone had eaten. Alex went back to his room to play games. You shoved Logan to the bedroom with one word on your lips, “Shower.” You gave him a peck on the lips and tried to leave the room but he wasn’t having it. You yelped when he tossed you on the bed and crawled up your pajama-clad body to cage you in with his dirty blue jeans and flannel. You heard the door click shut and looked at him. “Really?”

“I missed you,” he playfully pouted.

“Dude, you live here. It was one night,” you reminded.

“It was one night that—“ he interrupted himself by planting a kiss on your cheek. “I had to be away from you,” he said and kissed your jaw. “That’s just too much,” he commented before kissing down your neck. You hum enjoying the attention and affection.

“Logan, you stink,” you giggled trying to shove him off you knowing he won’t budge.

“You like my stink,” he countered, nuzzling against your neck. He bit and sucked along your neck, causing goose pimples to erupt across your skin. He hummed approvingly as he continued to the other side of your neck. Shuttering breath after shuttering breath escape you as he played you like a well known instrument.

“Logan,” you whined, writhing under him unable to decide if you wanted him to keep going or stop. You were indecisive.

“Patience, darlin’, he cooed. “I got you.”

“Logan, please,” you panted. It was so easy to get you going.

He knelt in between your legs, his hard cock pushing against the zipper of his jeans had your mouth watering, as he pulled off his flannel and undershirt. His natural scent and sweat seemed to cloud the room and you loved it. He always smelled of cedar and pine, a bit of tobacco and whiskey, with some earthiness to him. When he was sweaty, his spicy natural musk came through more, and for some unknown reason, you could not get enough of it. It made you feel feral and horny, wanting to roll in it until you smelled like him.

He looked down at you with a predatory grin. “Don’t act like you don’t want me.”

You scoff. “I always want you but that’s besides the point. There’s a paper in your nightstand drawer. I need you to help me with this ASAP.”

He returned to caging you, eyed you before running his nose along your jaw and neck. “After.”

You kept your hands on the bed, knowing if you touched him that you’d be done for until you two were done. “No, now,” you tried to say firmly but your voice quivered as he slid down and bit around your areola driving a groan from you. “Logan, please, just look,” you begged.

He licked your nipple before sitting up enough to reach out and open the drawer to get out the piece of paper. It was blank so he flipped it over and began to read it. Your heart rate picked up more than it had before. Your hands felt clammy and scared. He looked at you then the paper then at you and the paper again. His eyes looked at the ultrasound stapled to the page. His eyes were wide and his mouth open, slightly smiling. You were waiting to see how he felt. He gasped and stared at the scan. He ran his fingers over it, caressing. You were surprised by that. You looked away. It felt like a very private moment.

“This is from yesterday?!” He exclaimed, joy in his voice. He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and kissed all over your face. You laughed.

“Twins, really?” He asked, joyous and scared.

“If one doesn’t eat the other later, yeah.” You give a hesitant smile.

“What’s wrong?”

“You have super sperm. You’re The fucking Wolverine and you have super sperm. Everyone in the OB’s office wants your autograph or a picture with you. How do you think I feel?” You pouted.

He gently caressed your cheeks with both of his hands as you frowned. “They were more excited about finding out you were the father than making me feel better with an accidental pregnancy that shouldn’t have happened. I’ve even lost weight since we’ve been together.”

He furrowed his brows, eyes soft and understanding. “I know it’s scary but I’m not going anywhere.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve told you about all three of my pregnancies and the downfall with all three was the postpartum mental health issues that worsened with each one. I’m gonna go crazy, I’m gonna go so hormonal that I’ll fall out of love with you just like each time I did with Jack, and spend the next three years trying to figure out meds while I nurse these two for at least the first two years of their life unless they’re like Alex and refuse to go without a lot of effort from me. Logan, I’m in my early forties having not one but two more kids, and I’m fucking terrified.” Tears fall down your cheeks.

He gathered you up in his arms and moved to the headboard, sitting against it with you in his lap, holding you against him. He began rocking you a little as tears fell down your cheeks unbidden. “I see why you kept texting me now.”

You nuzzle your tear-stained face and runny nose against him as you wrap your arms around his hairy, muscular chest before finally sobbing. You were so scared of what this would do to your relationship, let alone your mental health. Postpartum depression was terrifying even if you were medicated and what would that do to the babies? Would you have to change medicine again like you did with yours?

Every fear ran the gamut through your mind as he held you and you told him every single one. He needed to know and understand what was going on. You two have only been together for a little over a year and this happens. He hasn’t even been living with you all for a year yet. Logan held you through it and acknowledged every fear. He tried to soothe and calm you as best he could.

When you seemed to finally calm down, he opened up and told you about his two sons. What happened with their mothers and him? How long ago it was. How he missed much of their lives for safety or didn’t know. How they both eventually turned on him and then told you his own fears of being a parent again, a father again. His fears of having his own genetic children.

You grabbed the blanket and covered you both up. He held on to you as he scooted down so you both could cuddle. He began petting your hair and carding his fingers through your disheveled curls. You spoke of your shared future and dreams.

“I want to get my garden up and going. Grow my own vegetables and have pollinators around. Not wasps or hornets. They and fig trees can die,” you groaned.

Logan laughed out loud when Alex came knocking to check on you both.

“It’s all good, bub. Go play your games. Let your maw rest,” Logan answered.

“Ok. Love you,” Alex called as he closed the door.

“Love you too,” Logan called back. You smiled up at him.

Fatherhood is sexy especially when it’s a man loving a kid that isn’t biologically his. “God damn, you’re a DILF. C’mere,” you prettily purred, grabbing him by the back of his neck and bringing him to your lips. He grinned against your lips and his hand slid down to your abdomen. His instincts grow more protective, knowing you have his children in you. You two make out like horny teenagers under the blanket, working to remove the rest of your clothes from each other.

He pulled away, suddenly. “Did you really call me a DILF?”

“Dad I’d like to fuck? Why yes, Mr. Howlett, I did. Now come to Mama, Daddy.” Logan rumbles at those words, rolling you on your back and you wrap your arms around his neck when his lips return to yours.

@livya99

[icecreamsocialanxiety]

I AM INVESTED IN THEM. Asgore doesn't wanna let him go but he knows Rudy's chronically ill in a semi critical way and his lungs get to him. Where is his mobility aid :(

Look I'm saying my theory is based: Toriel and Asgore clashed so much that Asgore probably cheated with someone. Maybe Rudy. And now he's trying to win back her love. TORIEL IS BEING PURSUED UGHHH. He's harmless but annoying. Like Berdly. Do you see parallels??

Leading to their literal divorce.

ASGORE PLENTY PEOPLE WOULD LOVE YOU COME ON...

I don't think they're exes tbh. Rudygore...I think Rudy and Asgore both know he's constantly battling cancer or something so premature demise is always likely :(

Or nothing morally ambiguous happened but Toriel just broke things off because I dunno. She's wiser and pragmatic and knows they should be with other people

Idgaf Soriel is good. Sans understands her and they have wonderful chemistry, yknow??? I know Toriel can be petty but c'mon.

Asgore doesn't deserve to be demonized but you have to realize he just wants to protect the kids with Toriel again, and he has the true knowledge.

[sunsetindenial]

Darkness King AU // Prologue 🌘💫👑

[ Warning: This series will contain gore, possible eye straining images, and character death. I will put these TWs in tags. ]

[tornrose24]

So I recently watched a play version of Jekyll and Hyde in my town. It was good, but it had some very senstive topics and themes that I'm not going to fully cover in case it triggers anyone. Here were some interesting notes about this version of the tale:

-Everyone–even the guys–were dressed in skirts. I was told that the director wanted an androgynous look.

-Four people were playing Hyde (including two girls) but none of them were the same actor that played Jekyll. Which works if you want to keep the well known twist a secret, but not so much if you already know about it.

-Hyde has a love intrest named Elizabeth, who works at a hotel and comes from a middle/low income family (which makes for some intresting commenary since she's likely not restricted by the same standards noblewoman had to be). She genuinely loves him despite the stuff he does (even though it WAS very concerning), and he actually likes her back, even though I was convinced he'd kill her a few times.

-Also, she happens to be the older sister that Hyde is said to have attacked at the start of the story... but I think he just bumps into said sister? (Also, Hyde is played by a woman during this point. For those curious, there's only one point where he's played by a woman when with Elizabeth.)

-However, he still does some bad stuff in the play that I'm not going to discuss since that might trigger some people.

-A dark, yet amusing way to end act one–a woman talks about how she sees Hyde kill someone. She could have called for help sooner but "The bad side in me wanted to watch."

-Down below has some spoilers and sensitive topics–

-So there's a scene where a women's corpse (which is just a dummy for the sake of the play) is shown off to a class and there's some MAJOR misogyny during the examination of the body. In one of the few times he's being decent, Jekyll does call this out and corrects some things in regards to the woman's death (that I'm not going to get into because–again–some of it might trigger some readers).

-When the woman's corpse is to be dissected, apparantly Hyde snuck it out of the class.... and replaced it with a pig corpse according to the tale.

–when the reveal of the two being one and the same happens.... interestingly, it's one of the female Hydes that takes the potion and transforms into Jekyll, who, as I said before, is played by a man. Interesting interpretation there when I think about it.... like if you were going for a full on LGBTQ version of Jekyll and Hyde, that would actually be a great idea.

-Interesting thing about this play is that it's almost like how Once upon a Time tackled the story–Hyde may be really awful, but he's still able to have some standards. On the other hand, Jekyll isn't as decent as he believes himself to be–he has an obsession of maintaining a perfect image that he's willing to frame Hyde for some things he didn't do AND manages to kill someone himself.

-And actually, Jekyll is going to kill Elizabeth when she finds out the truth, but.... I think the implication was that Hyde took over long enough to kill Jekyll-and thus, himself-before that could happen.

–Then the whole thing concludes with Hyde commenting about how he dreamt that he was a gentleman respected by all, and when he woke up he was glad he wasn't that guy.

[wolfasketch]

Ohmigosh, actual Elle lore!!

Needed info, Elle's mutation came about due to an oozesquitoe flying into her room and her human-bio father worked at a zoo, mainly around aquatic and reptilian enclosures.

So, when Elle woke up one night to get herself some water, I imagine she'd need more after being mutated, it shouldn't come as a shock she screamed when she saw a reflection of herself. Hearing the scream, her parents came to check what was wrong and was horrified to see some sort of fish monster in their house. Elle tried to sell comfort from her parents, but was turned away by a kitchen knife to the arm. After that, she didn't need to be told twice to run from her home.

[secret-engima]

(Slaps table) give me Nox angst. Like—Nox having a Verg Very Bad Quiet Day, and he's like trying to get away from people to /hide/ somewhere—but some snobby noble comes across him and says something snide, something horrible, that it breaks Nox's already fragile headspace and he just—crumbles. Regis/Cid/whoever you want, coming around the corner just beside the snide comment and just—seeing Nox breaking apart, falling like loose seams on a patched hole, glass shattering on marble floor.

....

.......

Ohhhh boy. Oh dear. Welp. OKAY. BUT YOU ASKED FOR THIS. Also this went majorly sideways. Yay for angst and medical side-effects of magic.

-Nox is already having a bad day. He woke up having a bad day, because the nightmares had been horrible, horrible enough that Noctis had come and curled against him, but even that hadn’t helped much. And he’s tried to put it behind him, and wear his masks, and smile nicely, because he’s not a coward and he’s not lazy, so he’ll suck it up and deal like a big boy.

-Until eventually he just- can’t.

-He can feel himself on the very, very edge of a Quiet Day, can feel his words leaving him behind and the world getting grey around the edges as memories whisper-whisper-whisper, so he excuses himself and retreats, aiming to go ... somewhere. Anyway. Away from people, away from prying eyes. Maybe the garden. The garden is usually empty this time of day and there are plenty of hidden nooks where he can just sprawl out and doze his Quiet Day away until his headspace settles again.

-“Ah, young Lord Nox,” no-no-no-not-now-please-not-now Nox ducks his head and tries to swerve around the nobleman, he doesn’t know which one he is, doesn’t care. The man steps into his way and Nox is forced to stop or run him over. Nox tries to focus on the man’s face, because eye contact is polite, but he can’t. He can’t and the world is getting grayer and the man is talking but Nox can’t quite hear him, let alone muster the mental energy to respond. A shaky glance upward and he sees the man’s lips are pursed and something cruel is glittering in his gaze.

-Past the whispering in Nox’s ears, somehow- somehow he still hears the man’s next words with perfect clarity, “Just the lack of manners and intelligence I would expect from a by-blow.” A sniff and the world still, crystalizes like old, brittle glass in Nox’s head as the man’s nose tilts upward and he sneers, “It must be such a burden on the king, to have to keep you around and smile like he actually cares about you. As if that will fool the rest of us into trusting a half-blood welp.”

-And Nox.

-Shatters.

-“The king entrusted the role of protector to you.”

-“Then why didn’t he tell me that? Why did he stand there smiling as I left? Why ... did he lie to me?”

-Empty words broken words broken time lost time shame-shame-liar-liar- sad eyes knowing eyes what do you know why-are-you-looking-at-me-like-that-whywon’tyoutrustme-

-Why didn’t you tell me?

-Are you ashamed of me?

-“Dad...”

-Sword and armor and glowing ghosts. Magic and memory and the agony of a father’s hand shoving the blade through his heart to the hilt

-Do you at least...

-“Trust me.”

-enough to sit still and die for our people?

-Dying and dead and gone, heart stopped breathing stopped everything stopped as the Void drags him in and he doesn’t have time to do more than wonder-

-Are you proud of me now?

-And then he’s under and gone and lost and there is no air he needs no air he is dead and gone and the blue is all around and he doesn’t need to

-“-breathe! Nox you need to-”

-breathe because what use is air to a dead man dead king dead prince shameful prince who at least was useful when he sat still and let others kill him so that others could

-“Breathe! Come on, snap out of it and-”

-breathe in the light of a new dawn. The least he could do was follow his father’s last orders to

- “My son. Breathe.”

-.....

-Dad?

......

-Cor has no idea really what just happened. He was on his way to deliver some paperwork to Clarus when he rounded the corner and found Nox, shoulders hunched and expression rapidly blanking with that fragile way that meant he was sliding into a Quiet Day and some lesser nobleman standing in his way saying, “-burden on the king, to have to keep you around and smile like he actually cares about you. As if that will fool the rest of us into trusting a half-blood welp.”

- Over the nobleman’s shoulder, Cor has the perfect view of all the blood rushing out of Nox’s face. He sees Nox’s face twist into something broken and lost and terrible, and even as he drops all his paperwork to the floor to angrily drag the nobleman away from Nox and throw him against the wall he knows that he’s too late to stop whatever damage the man intended to cause.

-He flings the man away from Nox with a snarl that doesn’t cover the strangle, gasping cry that drags out of Nox’s throat as the boy staggers back like he’s been physically struck. He half turns toward the nobleman to do far worse than throw him against the wall but an instant later Cor is whirling and diving for Nox as the boy just-

-Drops. Like a puppet with cut strings, his magic surging into the air without control, strong enough to knock paintings off the wall and rattle teeth, but Cor doesn’t care about that, about the potential damage or the way the world turns cold because Cor can FEEL Nox’s magic now.

-He can feel it shattering into a thousand glass shards, twist and writhe like the trembling death cry of a mortally wounded animal before it crumbles away and pulls so tightly into Nox’s core that Cor can’t feel any trace of it even through their skin contact as he frantically keeps Regis’s eldest son from cracking his head open on the marble flooring.

-Cor dimly hears the nobleman (scum) saying something but doesn’t know or care what it is, because Nox has gone deathly pale and he’s shaking and gasping with vacant eyes, like he’s drowning deep underwater. There’s a glassy, empty look to Nox’s eyes that even the worst of his previous Quiet Days never gave him, and some instinct has Cor speed dialing the Citadel medical floor and roaring for a medic.

-He’s right to call for a medic.

-Something in Nox’s frame twitches, like the flinch from being stabbed.

-And Nox.

-Stops breathing.

-Cor’s memory gets fuzzy after that from panic. He remembers yelling at Nox, he remembers slapping the boy’s cheek only to gain no response, frantically feeling for a pulse and finding one going too fast and too slow by turns like his heart is struggling to pick a rhythm and then helping that rhythm as best he could with CPR. He remembers the medics arriving, with Regis on their heels, positively flying down the hall despite his bad knee, drawn from ten floors away by the pulse of magic Nox had given out before collapsing.

-He thinks he remembers, amid the frantic flurry of medics and their tools, one of them saying that something was trying to stop Nox’s heart.

-The nobleman, now pinned down by furious crownsguard and loomed over by a screaming Axis, insists he didn’t even touch Nox, Cor can reluctantly confirm.

-It’s Ardyn, who just arrived in a furious pulse of magic, who goes pale and says, “His magic.”

-No one understands until Ardyn whirls on Regis and snarls, “His magic! It’s reacting to a flashback! It’s keeping him from breathing!”

-A medic looks up, halfway saying that they’ve never heard of magic doing anything like that in all the records of caring for Lucis Caelums but Ardyn snaps a hand out and growls, “It’s rare but it happens, believe me. Magic is will and memory and he is remembering something that was killing him. His magic is trying to protect from a threat that isn’t there, that continues to assault him no matter how tightly it guards and in the trying his magic is smothering him. Regis, you need to drag his magic out of his body. Out of his core, I’d do it myself but I’ll just make it worse. You are his father, his magic will respond to you.”

-Regis’s face loses all color, Cor feels sick, then Regis is pushing his way past the medics to clutch Nox’s hand. Magic rises and pulls and tugs with a desperation Cor can taste, “My son, my son wake up,” Regis begs.

-Nox does not respond. His eyes are vacant, so deep inside his own head that Cor fears any moment he will be dead and Cor won’t even be able to see a difference.

-Regis’s grip firms, and something unravels in the air between them, “My son. Breathe.”

-And with a stuttering wheeze, Nox’s magic suddenly unspools from his core (from his heart, Cor realizes with a lurch of his stomach, Ardyn had been right, his magic had been curled so tight around Nox’s heart and lungs and throat it had been keeping them from functioning). It unspools and Cor can physically feel the cracks in it, the shivering aches and cold memories trapping Nox in whatever nightmare caught him through the nobleman’s words.

-Ardyn sags in relief as Nox very slowly begins to breathe again, and Regis is shaking as he keeps his hands on Nox’s, keeps gently dragging Nox’s magic out into the air until the world is tinted blue and crystalline shards swirl around them like gently falling snow. Nox doesn’t react as the medics strap an oxygen mask to his face and load him onto a stretcher that Regis follows the entire way to the medical wing.

-Cor swallows his own heart back down to where it belongs, then straightens and turns to the nobleman with vengeance humming in his veins.

-Nox wakes up in the medical ward three days later, aching and sore and disorientated, but breathing on his own and free of the oxygen mask. He looks over dazedly and sees Regis slumped over in a chair, dozing lightly with Nox’s hand clutched in his own and their magics so tangled together that it takes a minute to figure out where his magic ends and Regis’s begins.

-Ardyn is on Nox’s other side, stretched out on another medical bed fast asleep with dark bags under his eyes, and Nox will later learn that Titus drugged Ardyn’s tea to make him sleep.

-When Regis wakes up and finds Nox awake, he starts to cry and Nox stares in confusion.

-Medics fuss and people explain what they know. Nox refuses to say what flashback drove him to such a dangerous low.

-Ardyn watches him rub fitfully at his chest over his heart and already knows.

-Much later, days later, after Regis finally calms enough to return to being king rather than hover at Nox’s side everywhere he goes, Ardyn murmurs, “He is proud of you, you know. And he loves you greatly. And he did back then as well.”

-Nox thinks of the Regis of this time, who smiles and laughs, who goes out of his way to spend time with him for any reason. He thinks of fishing trips with him and Regis and Noctis, happy memories that were so much fewer in his past life. He thinks of the corners of Regis’s eyes crinkling in amusement at some joke or story, so much lighter when he looks at Nox than he used to look at Noctis. 

-But he also thinks of a last smile on sprawling stone steps, last minute advice that could never cover everything he wanted to say. He remembers asking for trust and getting a sword through his heart.

-“I know he did.” He whispers back, and for once Ardyn is kind enough not to call out his lie.

[ancient-artificer]

Treasure Hunters: Morgan’s Lost Chest

A Gajevy AU oneshot mix of Pirates of the Caribbean and The Mummy. 

Two professional treasure hunters clash while they desperately seek the lost chest of the infamous pirate, Captain Morgan. During their excavation, they run into a little dead-end...

Rated M for language and possible frightening descriptions.

4k+ words. Also found on ff.net.

This is what happens when you eat too many chocolate espresso beans and ask chat for a prompt (thanks btw). Up all night writing due to heavy insomnia, unending inspiration, and literal magic beans.’

 Treasure Hunters: Morgan's Lost Chest

'Salty' wasn't a term used in his daily vocabulary, but Gajeel was sure it was a better word than what came to mind for the tiny spitfire currently berating his excavation team on the main deck. With a quick sigh, he tilted his head and emptied the soda can of its last drops.

The Sea Withers' weather deck carried the large various equipment needed to unearth what they all hoped would lead to the fabled Morgan Chest, reputed to have been lost for centuries when the pirate crew's mutiny went awry.

Golden treasure hidden away waiting to be uncovered sung its siren song.

When he approached the crew on deck, the woman - her finger pointed at one of his team member's chest- turned her attention to him. Her eyes darkened upon the sight. "You," she said with a low hiss.

He greatly wished at that moment that like the gold-laden chest, she too could have become lost. 

"May I help you?" He asked. His indifference to her plight was tinged with condescension. His brow furrowed as he put his hands on his hips.

"This is how you treat a colleague!? I worked my butt off to get the rights for this location!" She cried and moved towards him, and though he towered above her, she wielded the finger like a sword.

Gajeel watched the index finger wag at him, almost making him go cross-eyed. He then looked at her reddened face. "Levy, is it?" He started.

Her cerulean locks shook with her anger. "Do not 'Levy' me. I mean it."

He smirked. "I was here first."

Levy all but threw herself at him. "Of course you are! You stole my papers!"

A short sound came from his mouth as he corrected, "I commandeered them."

Levy looked as though she were about to explode. She balled her fists and cocked back ready to throw one when someone came up and redirected her.

Laxus held her away from his team leader as Gajeel called to drop anchor. He let her go to roughly pull herself away from him and righting her t-shirt in the process. A dirty look was all she could muster.

There was nothing she could do about the deranged crew leader and the theft of her hard-earned property. It was by all rights her claim, whatever should they dig up. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself for the sake of their one goal.

"Alright, listen up ladies!" Gajeel called. He pulled his polarized sunglasses down to his face. "A-Team down to ground and scout, B-Team unload the ee-quip. Slow an' steady."

"What about her, sir?" Laxus asked. He gestured to the only woman on site.

Gajeel turned. He didn't want to have to deal with her griping about what he did or did not do. He shrugged. "She stays on the ship."

"I most certainly will not!" Levy shouted angrily.

"Fine," he snapped. He struggled not to roll his eyes. She was a definite pain in his ass and it wasn't even noon. "You can come. But no complaining. Stay on my six. I'm not gonna search for your body if you turn up missing."

Levy was already on the rope ladder on the way down to the small boat below as he spoke.

She, however, rolled hers.

"Gee, thanks. I'll keep that in mind," she said aloud, and then added quietly, "You butthole…"

Once they were on the shore, both teams worked to bring the equipment to solid ground. While they hauled the last of it, Gajeel let the gentle waves lap at his boots as he surveyed the length of the beach.

Most of it sand as far as the eye could see in either direction. Not more than forty yards inland the sand gave way to grass and trees. Further in was a mixed mass of rock and greenery of which the top could not be seen.

He slowly started up the sand towards a fallen tree trunk.

"Where are you going?" Levy asked. When he didn't answer, she pursed her lips and trudged after him, incoherently muttering along the way.

When she caught up with him, he was standing with one foot up on the log looking down at the map of the island in his hands.

"It's supposed to be here," he said to himself. His finger swirled over an area on the unfolded paper.

Levy peered over his arms to see where he was pointing. "How long do you think it'll take?"

"Dunno."

"Well, what do you think we should do first? I mean," she paused mid-sentence to swat at a flying insect crossing in front of her face. "Taking account for everyone on the payroll who follows us there."

Gajeel bit his cheek and then turned his head away from her to spit. "Dunno yet."

"I mean for tonight. For dinner and sleeping arrangements. It's not going to happen over-"

Cutting her off with a huff, Gajeel turned his head to her, the map crinkling in his fists. He seethed, "I don't know, dammit! And I'm not gonna know if you keep runnin' your piehole. I've never been here before, ya know."

Levy scowled at him and at the tone he used with her. She blew out a breath. "Neither have I but I did research before my approved documentation was stolen."

That piqued Gajeel's interest. He calmly looked at her.

"What kind of research?"

Levy opened her mouth to speak but promptly shut it. She gave him a sarcastic look -a wag of her eyebrows and a head tilt- and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't going to oblige if her questions would be waved off and ignored.

He shook his head, his eyes narrowed. "Naw, don't give me that bullshit. Since we have to work together, it's in your best interest to tell me everything you know. To help the rest of the crew. For a successful excavation."

She waved a hand out in front of her face and looked at him in her peripheral to see what he would do while she kept silent on her secret knowledge.

He didn't wait long. He breathed a rough sigh and let slip a quiet curse before going back to the map.

And she wouldn't tell him either. If he was going to be an asshole on all fronts, then some secrets were worth keeping to herself. And right now she was the only one she could trust. 

The sun disappeared beyond the horizon when the crew finished settling the main camp. Small tents were pegged in the stretch of green vegetation between the beach and the rest of the jungle-like terrain. The night air cooled the island considerably. It was something which Levy had forgotten to take into account when she bounded off in search for Gajeel's ship.

She sat shivering on the same log from earlier in the day in front of the lively fire. Focusing on the orange flames, she jumped when something soft dropped onto her head.

"Put it on before you freeze." Gajeel sat down unceremoniously beside her.

She uttered her thanks and pulled it over shoulders. Warmth quickly seeped into her bones. A deep breath drew in a fresh manly scent, which told her he had recently worn it.

A coffee mug in his hand, he sipped at it and cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the burning wood. The two of them sat in silence for some time, listening to the camp crackle with the crew's intermittent conversations and the nightly music of the island's various insects and other wildlife.

Levy looked over at the expedition's captain. Her fellow relic hunter seemed to be the type to hate waiting on others but also refused to ask for help or directions. As much as she hated the idea of him taking her claims for himself, he had a point in that they were now in it together whether it was desired or not.

They had to work as a cohesive team.

"You wouldn't like it even if I told you." Her voice cracked when she finally spoke.

His immediate response to her statement told her he had indeed been waiting on her said research.

"That so. And what would that be?"

"It's said there's a curse on the gold, any who open the chest or touch its contents are doomed for eternal misery in Davy Jones' Locker."

Gajeel coughed down the hot liquid. He snorted back a laugh and caught her gaze, her eyes alight from the glowing fire. He asked simply, "And you believe that shit? Are you an archaeologist or a superstitious historian?"

The woman was slightly taken aback. "Do you really think I'd be telling a made-up story? There's proof in the texts I found in Port Royal."

His hard stare bore a hole into her skull. Ha ha. She was pulling his leg. She had to be. When she stared back just as hard, he knew she was serious. Turning back to the fire, he gave a smile and said, "There's no such thing as curses."

A cold wind brushed through the camp. It stirred the fire and blew the hair from both of their faces.

"The ocean wind from the beach," he said, a matter of fact. He sat back and stretched out his legs.

Levy pursed her lips and stood up. She raised her chin but squinted down at him. There was no way the impossible man would believe it without physical evidence, and there was no way of obtaining it.

He stared back with a smug expression and put his hands behind his head.

"I know what I read, Mr. Redfox, captain," she said, holding her arms tightly over her chest against the cold air. "I don't need or want your condescending-"

In her rush to leave, the toe of her boot caught part of the log that had rotted off. Before she could throw her arms out to catch herself, she stumbled forward in the direction of her broad-shouldered rival.

The coffee mug spilled its contents on the ground beside Gajeel as Levy's weight dropped straight down into his lap.

Standing one moment, the next she was gazing up at the surprise plastered on him. She was well aware of his arms tightly folded over her body.

He gaped wide-eyed. "You ok?" He asked.

"Y-yea," she murmured, still shocked at the sudden change. Her nose briefly grazed his cheek and she could smell the dried sweat on his skin.

And for some reason, it smelled good.

A blush crept into her cheeks. She scrambled to her feet, left as quickly as the dark would let her and hoped he wouldn't bring it up in the morning.

***

Gajeel observed with a heightened excitement as the last bit of debris was removed from the roped-off digging area. Three full days of digging away as much dirt as possible in the humid air had taken most of the remaining patience he had left.

The deep pit revealed what appeared to be broken bits of old pitch-covered wood. Pieces of frayed rope and other non-degradable material surrounded an old, half-buried chest. 

"Break out the cooler," Laxus called out. He stood above on the topsoil. He tossed their leader a glass container which sloshed with golden-brown liquid.

Gajeel untwisted the cap. "A round of Captain Morgan!" He exclaimed, then brought the bottle to his mouth for the first sip. He passed it to the closest man.

As he and the others celebrated their discovery, Levy felt an uneasiness. She had suspected some kind of supernatural boobytrap, but none came to slow down their progress. The lack thereof made her become overly cautious.

"Come on," Gajeel said to her without looking her way. No trace of their brief conversation the few nights before -and what had accidentally occurred between them- appeared to be of any concern to him.

Levy watched from her perch above them on the ground untouched by the digging equipment. Glancing around at the surrounding environment, she couldn't shake the odd feeling. She wanted to warn him again, but would her heed only fall on deaf ears?

"Gajeel, wait," she called anyways.

Standing by the chest and posing for pictures with other crew members, he seemed not to notice her. Only when the pit cleared away did he remember she had called to him.

He put one large hand on her shoulder and said, "We found it."

"Yes, I can see. Please don't touch it yet."

He huffed. "Levy, I'm telling you, there's nothing going to happen."

Despite his rebuke of the truth and reliability of her "research", he took his hand from her, but kept his other hand on his hip. With her experience in professionally recovering lost artifacts for science and the occasional museum, he let her take point to inspect it.

Levy approached the chest, assuming control of the situation. Bending at the waist, she put her hands on her knees.

Behind her came a clearing of a throat. Gajeel shifted his weight. He tried to not notice her short blue jean shorts rising up the underside of her thigh. His gaze averted, but only for a second. An inaudible grunt of slight arousal settled in his chest.

Oblivious, her eyes roamed over the old wooden box. Rusty iron strips were nailed into the decaying wood at the corners. Bugs crawled over parts around the bottom. It looked like anything someone could dig up if one went deep enough. The closer she got to it, the more it revealed of itself.

Walking around it and without physical contact with it, she closely inspected the front side. The standard keyhole lock from the era was missing. Red crumbly bits of rust settled on the iron rest where it would have been. A faint inscription was etched on the domed lid above the iron edging. A black substance stained its surface.

She frowned. Her stomach threatened to empty itself. The ancient documentation in Port Royal had to be accurate.

"What is it?" Gajeel asked.

Pointing, Levy read aloud the message carved into the rotten mahogany, "'Gold, silver, all treasures this chest has carried now lives to tell of souls long dead and tarried'."

Gajeel's brows furrowed. "The fuck," he grumbled. He quickly moved to her side, his eyes on their prize. "What does that even mean?"

He reached out a hand to flip the lid away to peer inside. Levy gasped and caught his arm, pulling it towards her.

"No! Don't do that!"

"Levy!" He roared in frustration.

One of the crew members hopped down into the pit. "If you two aren't gonna, let me, for fuck's sake..."

He quickly threw the lid back.

Levy, still clinging to Gajeel's arm, shut her eyes. Gajeel glanced down at her as she squeezed his limb tighter. Her forehead brushed against his bicep.

The crew member fell silent. No one spoke. The seconds that ticked by seemed more like minutes. Gajeel shifted his weight once again in his impatience.

"Well?"

The crewman's shoulders fell. His tone was one of shock. "It's empty."

Levy's eyes shot open. She spoke at the same moment as Gajeel.

"It is?"

"Come again?"

He shook off Levy's hold and was beside the brave crew member in one stride, dead set on seeing for himself. It had to be a joke. They spent way too much time and effort to come up short.

There was nothing inside. Not even dirt or sand.

Levy had hoped that despite the warning that there would lie some kind of treasure. It didn't have to be gold or other precious jewels or the like. She would have been ecstatic with an old half-filled journal. Or a comb. Or even a spoon.

She looked at Gajeel, defeated. "Now what?"

A dull, dumping sound filled the pit, like a pile of dirt dumped onto concrete. It gradually became louder.

A surprised cry spouted from the only person known to have touched what was supposed to have been a bountiful riches.

Gajeel looked in disgust at the crewman's arm as it turned a pale green with a shattered cracking pattern snaking across the skin right before his waking eyes.

He put his arm in front of Levy and backed them both to the excavation pit's edge. "Lax, are you seeing this?" His voice seemed both distant and as if he were shouting at the same time.

Laxus replied. "Yea…"

The others were watching the scene unfold, not knowing what was going on or what to do; obviously, no one had trained for something such as this.

The first mate hesitantly pulled the pistol from his holster and brought it up. He didn't want to point it at his friends, but what was happening below to one of them was not normal by any standards. "And I don't like it."

The man's skin went from the pale green to gray, the cracks webbing out began to widen, until one of his wrists severed from the rest of the lifeless limb. The man who had opened the chest was decaying at an unbelievably fast rate.

Levy abruptly turned upon the realization. She made a grab for the hanging rope ladder. Her breaths came shallow and hurried, her only thoughts were of getting out unscathed.

The crewman's face began to change colors. He twitched and jerked while the deterioration accelerated. One of his kneecaps slid diagonally down to the side, causing his leg to turn unnaturally when he attempted to take a step. When he moved his head, the gray skin cracking like dried mud broke loose. The mandible beneath unhinged itself from the skull, permanently propping open the man's mouth.

"Climb faster," Gajeel murmured.

The undead stepped out in his direction.

"Faster, Levy," he repeated with more force.

His colleague was halfway up the ladder. He shoved his hand upwards and cupped one of her ass cheeks, pushing her the rest of the way so he could begin his ascent to get the hell out.

Once she was at the top, a gunshot fired once and echoed into the rest of the island. Levy turned to see Gajeel hurrying up the ladder and the undead shipmate now without an arm on his way towards them.

Laxus fired another shot that missed.

"Has anyone else touched the chest?!" Levy shouted. Goosebumps traveled down her arms and legs. She hoped and prayed it was just the one.

If others had as she suspected, no one confessed. A commotion of mixed shouts and warnings came from the campsite. A few crew members cleared out of the way before the same thing that had just occurred in the pit began to eat away at two more.

Morgan's curse was spreading.

Gajeel scrambled to his feet once he reached solid ground. He yanked the ladder out in case the undead could come up after him. The rotted body loosed a sound that would have been a snarl and clawed at the dirt wall.

"So much for buried treasure, shoulda known," Gajeel roughly spat. In two quick strides, he was right next to Levy. 

She gave him a disapproving look. "I tried to tell you."

"Yea, yea." He took her hand and swiftly guided them away from the excavation pit.

The main camp was in disarray. The undead was numerous, turning the others who had ignorantly treated the dig site as every other they previously created.

"We gotta get to the ship before they do."

A half snarl growl from the freshly dead warned Gajeel of its proximity in time for him to snatch up one of the cooking pans by the fire and connect it with the side of its ugly, deformed face. The remnants of their earlier breakfast unstuck itself to snag on the zombie's protruding nasal bone.

It fell to the ground, but of course, nothing could kill an undead in this case, given that it was unleashed via a curse.

He picked up another pan and shoved it into Levy's hand. "It won't kill them, but it'll keep you alive," he stated. He gave her a hard, meaningful gaze, shifting to both of her eyes. "Stay on my ass, Lev."

At her nod, he looked both ways for incoming bogeys and then rushed forward in the direction of the beach.

Gunshots echoed, screams and shouts of men running for their lives met their ears. They lept for the grassy trail which led straight for the ocean. Skinny tree trunks and other tall plants flashed by in a blur as they hightailed it, as fast as the overgrown vegetation would allow.

Gajeel used his pan like a sword and wacked two unsuspecting undeads clear off their broken feet. Bits of dust plumed out in small clouds from the contact made with his makeshift but effective weapon.

When they reached the beach's hot sand, he looked over his shoulder. The fierce little woman abruptly stopped and swung her frying pan like a baseball bat at the zombie following close behind her.

She gave a short grunt with the effort. The bottom of the weapon smacked the unnatural creature, its head popped off and flew back the way they came. Dust clouded the air in her wake. The undead body crumpled in a heap to the ground.

A clean headshot.

The display of power greatly impressed Gajeel.

Her next step onto the beach was a stumble, but he was there to catch her in one of his arms.

"Careful," he murmured. His gaze lingered on her face as he set her upright.

She saw the look in his eyes. A red-tinged her cheeks. Before he could see it, she grabbed his arm with her free hand and gave a tough tug. Her voice was breathless, "We can't stand around, come on!"

They ran for The Sea Wither still at anchor a distance away in deeper water. The smaller boat they came to shore in sat untouched on the dry sand, the motor flipped upside down inside for storage.

When Levy bounded into it, Gajeel started to shove the boat towards the water. They heard a loud shout for them to wait.

Laxus lead a few others out of the fray. They wielded various objects from camp, frantically booking it over the loose sand. The first mate slowed to a stop and immediately helped Gajeel in pushing the large vessel.

The others threw themselves into the boat, breathing heavily, scared out of their wits. Odd weaponry lay on the boat floor: another frying pan, a shovel, a machete, a long stick, a foldable chair. She gave credit for creativity within the group of people still alive.

"Alright, let's get the hell out of dodge," Gajeel said to Laxus and nodded.

Two other crewmen pulled their leader into the boat while Laxus readied the motor by securing it onto its mount. He yanked the pull cord and it suddenly came to life. 

"What about the equipment? Everyone else still out there?" A man asked. He gripped his crowbar white knuckles.

"It's not worth the risk. Not right now."

With the motorboat gaining speed towards their ticket home, Gajeel looked back to see more decomposing bodies now emerging from the cursed island. He took a breath and turned to Levy. "Whoever's left isn't going to last," he admitted aloud for everyone to hear above the motor's roar.

Biting her lip, Levy had to turn away from the beach. She shook from adrenaline still coursing through her veins. The cold sea air didn't help either. She felt the warmth radiating from Gajeel when he sat next to her. What comfort she could feel came from him.

The boat slowed when they arrived at the ship. One by one they wasted no time in boarding the massive ship. The first thing he did after making sure what remained of his crew were safely aboard, Gajeel entered the bridge and created a distress call on the appropriate channels.

Levy sat in one of the main chairs and listened as he successfully made contact with the mainland. In her relief knowing there would be a rescue, her gaze shifted from the ships controls to the beach.

"Gajeel, y-you need to s-see this," she stuttered. Fear was again present in her voice.

He put down the radio and glanced up. He did a sharp double-take. "You gotta be kidding me! These fuckers can swim?!"

[princeanxious]

Current Au scenario in my head rn.. Shattered Raine.

Roman is a Prince, but of a different mortal realm, kinda like demons verses angels in hell and heaven, and how they have been technically able to walk among the mortal human realm as well as exist in their own realm and all that jazz.

Say that this realm that hes a prince in is like earth, but is home to demon-esque humans with powers and the ability to hop between realms and shit, maybe there are two other types of realms alongside this one and the human one, with angel-esque humanoids and then one thats more of a mix of between Angel and Demon esque humanoids, but none are inherently good or evil. They are just like humans, who overall have a good moral compass, but have the bad natured souls in the cracks, yknow?

Either way, the only ones who cannot actively go through to different realms of existance while they are still alive are humans. The only way humans can is when they die. At that point, human souls are given the option to reincarnate on earn(the usual option amongst humans) or (usually if said soul is broken and battered from the wildness that is earth) take a detour/choose to visit or live in one of the other three realms (and if they ever so desired, they could return to earth whenever they wanted if they wanted to reincarnated again, but the system of reintegrating a soul whos spent time away with a system that attempts to wipe the soul memory clean to give another life is another story all together and unimportant to me as I currently would like to get on with the story) it's also rare but not impossible for a Human to fully integrate into one of thw other realms and become one of those realms people, power and all.(weak at first and when untrained nor properly practiced, they usually remain harmless despite learning their set of magical skills unless given the aforementioned plus a lot of time.) This can be granted by the Top Tier powerful beings of the realms aside from earth, and is very hard(impossible) to reverse, so its a big decision to make(usually the earth-broken souls dont find the derision very hard, knowing that compared to earth, any of the other realms were just slightly more compassionate, definately not as large, and definately more accommodating in the sense of healing broken souls into something new)

Anyways, Roman is a Prince, Logan and Patton are also kinda in the same boat as nobility and princes but don't hold as much power as Roman does, ect. Ect. In their realm, the "demon" realm or 'more exotic and diversified magical populace realm,' really, the Top Tier powerful beings live as royalty(without the awful part of monarchy, as money isn't really a super big thing in this realm, or any of the other realms minus earth because these realms have magic. Companionship is slightly more cherished, money just gets you stuff like clothing and personal belongings. Housing isnt dictated by money, ect. -I'll figure this out more later- Very weird for the average human soul to get used to but, anyways)

As previously mentioned, beings from these other realms can walk on earth unbothered, usually masked as a human to remain undetected. Usually they do it for curiousity(like Logan), to visit human friends(like Patton), or because they were simply bored( and looking for inspiration, like Roman) and don't rely on the reincarnation systems to visit

Virgil is a human, and in his current earth life, he is honestly doing pretty terribly, enough so where he ends up set on being on the track of a broken soul; if any being from the other worlds looked into his soul, they would see it shattered like a phone screen, ready to splinter and fall apart. Any being who noticed this would have no doubt in their mind that Virgil's soul was young, and had simply gotten a bad earthen roll far too early. It would surprise them more if the kid didn't end up choosing to escape to the safer realms, considering how much time the young souls existance still had--it was almost like looking at an abandoned and injured infant creature, clinging to life whilst its chance of making it were rapidly declining by the minute. There was nothing they could do to help the human, and only Top Tiers could fenagle the system and bring fourth a human whos live had yet to end. (The only way this is exceptable is if said soul is destined to ruin at any possible day, and ot was not a matter of if but a matter of when. These souls are those titled Broken Souls) but to find such a soul so broken at its beginning? It left many aching, returning early with a reminder that earth was never truly that kind despite its varied beauty.

It was almost unheard of to find a soul so young, so broken. Normally earth's went easy on new souls until they were mature enough to handle earths random rolls, but somehow there seemed to be a mix up, and now this soul's experience was cut short? The thought had bugged Roman for some time now, especially after hearing the rumors of such a sorrowful and terrifying find among his people, so he sought to find out for himself.

Finding Virgil wasnt hard, considering the little human, who looked barely 20 and yet remained an unknowing beacon to others that 20 years had been more than enough to shatter him, was always being watched or spotted by creatures of the other realms and so asking around lead Roman to now, staring at the poor little thing. Sitting in the rain, at night, face upturned to the sky, and utterly soaked. Despite the shivers wracking the others thin frame, the soaked human didnt move from his place.

Interest peaked, mind made up, and magic stirring within his being, he walks up and plucks the little human out of the rain(unsurprised that the human is only half conscious and absolutely freezing) and doesnt hesitate to sink out of the earth realm and interact with the reincarnation system, getring the okay before appearing in his own realms castle, and demanding for Logan and Patton to greet him, because this was important. Virgil Raine was important, and if he wasnt quick and careful, the human soul would probably finally shatter in his fingertips.

So, cue a scene where Roman uses his magic to snap & strip Virgil of his wet clothes and instead replace them with loose heavy and warm, weighted pajamas, woolen slippers and socks, and a heavy and enchanted ever-warm blanket to wrap around the shaking human. When Patton and Logan arrive, they find Roman cradling the human bundle in his arms, worry etched across his face despite the slowly but surely receeding shaking.

Both Logan and Patton jump into action, Patton immidiately tuning in his specialty to help heal the humans physical ailments(making sure the young adults body didnt just give out on them) while Logan investigated Virgils soul.

I have more to this definately but its 1 am and I need to sleep probably so yeah. Maybe I'll call this Shattered Raine if anything comes of this. I have a lot of time on my hands anyway, so why not try? (Maybe I'll open an askblog. For not I'll settle on making a taglist if anyones interested.)

Adding my writings taglist in a reblog!