#⌘ daylight still a long time coming ⌘ starter call

[shadowglens]

like kerosene (on a flame of doubt)

fandom: read dead redemption 2 warnings: canon typical violence, blood and gore characters: alma mcarthy (oc), john marston, dutch van der linde, arthur morgan, assorted original side characters word count: 7,826 overview: alma mcarthy joins the van der linde gang, circa 1891 BEFORE READING: please open in a new tab as it's very long and tumblr formatting is terrible on dash 😭

1891, Wyoming

“I want those stalls all mucked out before lights out, you hear?���

Alma rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might disappear into her skull. “I ain’t your servant, Jeremiah. Do it yourself.”

“Listen, girl.” The slapping of his boots through mud bounced between the walls of the livery as he stormed towards her. “While you are under this roof, taking my gold and tending my horses, you will do what I goddamn fucking say.”

Evening was drawing near. Distantly, if she strained her ears over the sound of her associate’s - sorry, boss’ - incessant droning, Alma could hear a pair of coyotes calling to each other in the nearby hills. One of the horses in the stall closest to her stamped it’s foot with a huff, whether at the threat of wildlife or Jeremiah, Alma wasn’t sure. She absently reached to hush it as the man’s squelching boots finally brought him to stand before her. 

His cheeks were crimson, a vein popping on his forehead and disappearing all the way up into his receding hairline. The horse, a beautiful roan mare, was now at the front of her stall and huffed sharply enough that Jeremiah’s neckerchief fluttered. “Wasn’t I fucking clear, girl? Pick up the goddamn rake and get to work.”

Jeremiah Owens wasn’t a particularly kind man, in the grand scheme of the things. He only knew how to yell or curse, smelt not-so-faintly of manure, and Alma was fairly sure he had never bothered to remember her first name. Girl this, girl that. Still, she fought the urge to stamp her foot like a petulant foal. He had never laid a hand on her, for starters, and shouting aside, he had given her free use of the small loft space above his office. Right now, he was the only thing separating her from the warmth of this livery and the rain-soaked emptiness on the horizon outside. 

“I’ve gotta do up the papers for those mustangs,” she snapped, biting down the fire in her gut. “Mr Darlington was due to send one of his boys tomorrow mornin’ for them, or did you forget?”

That was the other reason she liked Jeremiah. When she’d turned up on his doorstep just under nine months ago, looking like a starving rat no less, he hadn’t just offered her a job - he’d brought her in on the less-than-reputable side of his operation. More than that, he’d let her help with it. Storing and feeding horses was one thing, but a horse fence was an entirely different beast. A lucrative one, too. She knew he had a few hundred gold stored somewhere in the basement of his house, she was sure of it. 

“I ain’t smooth-brained, girl.” Again, she rolled her eyes. Again, he glared. “The papers are already organised. Just muck the stalls out.” At that, he stormed back the way he’d come, no doubt to the comfort of his small house up the way. 

“O-kay boss,” she sing-songed, mostly to piss him off. 

To his credit, he didn’t bother turning back around. 

In truth, Alma didn’t mind the cleaning. It was mindless, sure, and it left her muscles aching every night in her sorry excuse for a bed, but at least it kept her busy. Didn’t give her too much time to think. If she had time to think, she started remembering, and that led nowhere good. 

She worked her way through the stalls as the daylight finally slipped away below the horizon. The roan mare was a legit purchase on Jeremiah’s part, currently the only one in the livery. A group of men had brought in a trio of mustangs a few days ago, beautiful beasts captured from somewhere over the mountain, and then there was the stallion. 

He was a huge Thoroughbred, proud, a striking blood bay colouring. Alma was sure he’d been nicked from one of the local ranches, but it wasn’t her or Jeremiah’s jobs to ask those kinds of questions. Either way, she’d be sad to see him go, even if he would fetch them a fortune. He was magnificent. 

Alma had reached his stall, and was about to sneak him a sugar cube, when something clattered to the ground at the opposite end of the stable.

The stallion jerked away from her hand, startled, as Alma too spun on the spot. 

Her hand went to her hip on instinct. Her revolver, as always, was holstered. Jeremiah had fought her on it for about a week before a wannabe gunslinger had held them both up over ten dollars. She’d been armed while working ever since.

The livery was deathly silent. 

Most of the lights were off by this time of night, only one illuminating her end of the stable and one in Jeremiah’s office. The office where the sound had, undoubtedly, come from. Alma crept in that direction, keeping her shoulder tight against the stall doors and the shadows they cast. There was only one place Jeremiah ever was at this hour, and it for sure wasn’t working. Lazy bastard.

A shape darted past the office window. 

Fury, at being robbed, at being stolen from, gripped Alma, and before she could think of any common sense she was sprinting for the door. 

The hinges were always loose and creaking, and even her slight frame sent the door slamming open as she barrelled into it. The shape turned out to be a person as the door also slammed into them, sending them careening into the far wall with a shout. Alma twisted, revolver drawn.

It was a man, scrambling to his feet while one hand gripped his nose. There was blood covering his chin and throat. She couldn’t see much of his face through his curtain of dark, greasy hair, but she could hear him cursing under his breath.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Alma snarled, gun aimed between his eyes where he was leaning back against the far wall. 

“You broke my fucking nose!”

She took a step towards him, gun still up. “You were trying to steal from us!”

He shifted, spat a glob of blood in her direction. He spoke like a street rat, kind of looked like one too, but his clothes were just a little too nice to be one of the petty thieves Alma was used to seeing around town. The leather of his boots, though now muddied, was clearly well looked after, and the holster for his own revolver looked well made. Maybe he was from a gang? Jeremiah had grumbled that there were a few that rode through every so often, but usually they brought good business to the livery.

“What do you want?” she snapped. Back in the stables, she could hear the mustangs cracking a fuss at all the commotion. 

He scoffed. “Your money. What, are you simple?”

“Fuck you!” Alma glanced quickly at his gun - still holstered. “Give me back anything you’ve taken. Now!”

Despite the gun pointed at his forehead, he had the audacity to laugh. “Or what? You probably don’t even know how to use that thing.”

Oh, this greasy fucker. 

The Alma from five years ago would’ve baulked at even holding a gun. Her Pa had taught her how, of course, but she’d been a proper little girl back then, with parents who loved her, and a warm home to run back to if things got too hard. 

Five years was a long time.

The man’s left arm, the one not gripping his broken nose where it was still streaming blood down his face, twitched closer to his holster.

No you don’t.

Alma shot him.

“Fuck!” he screamed as the shot rang out through the office and livery and the land surrounding it. The horses cried out, an owl scattering from the rafters and into the trees beyond at the sudden noise. His body slammed back against the wall, broken nose long forgotten as he clutched helplessly at his shoulder and the rough line the bullet had drawn through his skin. He was lucky she’d only grazed him and not put it between his eyes.

Alma stormed up to him, lunging, and before he could react she had his revolver in her free hand. “I said, give me back anything you’ve taken!”

She could hear Jeremiah shouting for her up at his house.

The man dropped to the ground, one shaking hand held palm-out as the other tried to stem the bleeding. Alma was close enough that she could see the sweat on his brow and the wide-eyed look on his face, like a startled filly. It was barely a flesh wound. He really hadn’t thought she’d shoot him.

Belatedly, she realised he was barely older than she was, maybe even the same age. More a boy than anything. Just like she was barely anything other than a girl.

“ - all of it!” he stammered. She hadn’t realised he’d been talking. “Get away from me, you psycho!”

He’d emptied the small satchel at his hip, sending an assortment of trash and stolen goods scattering to the floor. A few wads of cash, a stack of fraudulent papers that Alma had hand-written herself, a pack of cigarettes, a few twigs and rocks, a tin of gun oil that looked like it was nothing but dregs, and a little pocket knife. She took the cash and papers, thought for a moment, then pinched the cigarettes too even though she didn’t smoke.

She glared at him, raising both guns again. “I’m the psycho?”

“You shot me!”

“You deserved it,” she said, backing up to slam everything back onto the desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the drawers all sitting wide open. Subtle. “Now get -” she started, breath caught at the adrenaline coursing through her veins, “now get the hell out of here before I really shoot you!”

The man - the boy - just stared at her. His nose, thankfully, had stopped gushing blood all down his front, although now his arm was stained russet too. His shirt was well and truly ruined.

Alma marched over to the window he’d apparently crawled through and slammed her hand against the frame. “Are you deaf?! I said go!”

That seemed to shake him out of whatever daze he’d fallen into. She tracked his every movement across the office, guns still razed, and simply glared as he awkwardly tried to clamber back out the window with only one good arm. She slammed the butt of his own gun against his back as he went, sending him tumbling into the mud outside.

He cursed, stumbled and slipped, before righting himself and sprinting for the edge of the property. If she squinted, she could make out the shape of a horse hidden just beyond the treeline. 

“And don’t come back, you bastard!” she screamed after him. 

Jeremiah chose that moment to burst into the office, door slamming open the exact same way it had moments before. “Alma!”

She leant back against the wall beside the window, a gun still gripped in each hand, and raised an eyebrow at her boss. “So you do know my name.”

“What happened? Did I hear a gunshot?” He eyed the leather-wrapped revolver in her right hand. Alma almost laughed when she realised he was only in sleep pants. Maybe the old geezer did care after all. “Where did that come from?”

“A gift from a thief. Don’t worry, I chased him off cause, unlike you, I care about this business.” 

Jeremiah just gawked at her. “You shot him?”

“Would you rather I let him take all your cash and papers and everything not nailed down?”

“Well, no, but …” he only then spied the blood smeared on the wall and floor. “Hells, girl. How many times did you shoot him?”

Alma scoffed at him as she inspected her new revolver. “Just once, barely. I’m not a monster.”

...

One of Jeremiah’s cousins, Gregory, came by the next day to help shore things up in the wake of the attempted robbery. The man was Jeremiah’s opposite - tall, rotund, intimidating - which Alma supposed was a good thing. It’d hopefully scare any other would-be thieves off, at any rate. 

Not that they had to worry. The next few days were entirely uneventful. Mr Darlington sent a few boys down to pick up two of the mustangs, and paid triple what they were realistically worth without batting an eyelid. Jeremiah had made her hide the Thoroughbred out back before their arrival, just in case their suspicions rang true.

Alma had also convinced Jeremiah to let her man the fence after her little display the other night. That’s where she was that morning, perched on a stool behind the cut-out in the wall with her head propped up on one hand, when a man on a beautiful white stallion came trotting down the path. Even from a distance, she could tell she wouldn’t like him. The moustache alone put her off.

“Why, good morning to you miss!” he cawed. In the morning sunlight, the red of his waistcoat shone like rubies. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

Alma just stared at him. “I suppose.”

“Quite an establishment you’ve got here.” He hitched his horse by the post at the livery entrance, then waltzed over to where she was perched around the side. For a new customer, he sure knew his way around. 

“It ain’t mine, sir,” she said, fighting to smooth her brow against a brewing frown. “Can I help you?”

He was right before her now, smiling with too many teeth and his silly slicked-back hair. “Forgive my manners. Dutch van der Linde.” The hand he held out was tanned, roughened, yet adorned with rings of all metals that glinted as he moved. An unusual combination. When she simply looked from his hand to his face and back again, the man - Dutch, apparently - simply smiled and shifted to clutch at his gun belt with a hip cocked. “I was hoping to discuss a proposition with you, if you’d be amenable?”

Oh boy. “Unless it’s to sell that pretty horse of yours, sir, the answer’s no.”

“Now, now miss, don’t be so rash.” Alma felt herself tense, toes curling in her boots where they were hidden behind the counter. She could image Jeremiah in her ear, insisting that she be amenable to all customers lest she drive away business. She forced herself to breathe as Dutch kept yapping. “I’m here to propose an offer to you, specifically. You see, one of my boys said he ran into you a few days back, said you had a bit of a … disagreement?”

Any pretence of her being a good salesperson flew out the door at that. So the greasy fucker was back to haunt her then. She pulled her revolver from the holster at her hip before she could stop herself, jumping off her stool in the same moment. Trust her luck that the moment Gregory was nowhere to be seen was the moment she needed him. 

Dutch, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he held up both hands in surrender. Still smiling. Still too many teeth. “Easy miss, I’m not here for what you think. Like I said, I have a proposition.”

Alma scoffed. Kept her revolver raised. “My mumma didn’t raise no fool.”

“I can see that. But I truly mean you no harm.” Dutch breathed out a laugh, or maybe it was a grimace? Alma could quite read the way his face twisted. “From the looks of John’s nose and shoulder, she apparently also raised quite a fighter.”

Was this the boy’s - John’s - father, then? Uncle? Alma supposed there was a bit of a resemblance with the dark hair, but it had been nighttime. Maybe she was misremembering. “Yeah well maybe you need to teach your boy some proper manners. Didn’t you hear it’s rude to accost a lady in the night?”

Dutch laughed properly then, glancing to his feet for a moment as if to collect himself before lifting his gaze back to Alma. His brown eyes assessed her. “Now, there is fire in you, miss. I knew I’d like you. ”

“The feeling’s not mutual.”

Another laugh shot from him, short like gunfire. “Hah! Now, where was I? Oh yes, I came to thank you for not killing John on sight, the boy was foolish to steal from such a … reputable establishment such as this one.” He waved his hands at the livery in question with an eyebrow raised. “I’d also like to offer you a job, of sorts.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m already gainfully employed, if you couldn’t tell.” Alma glanced behind her, hoping fruitlessly that one of her associates would actually be found in their place of work when she needed them. Alas, all that greeted her was the beautiful Thoroughbred with his ears perked in her direction. She kept her revolver gripped.

Dutch, apparently oblivious to her distraction, or perhaps not caring, soldiered on. “But does this place truly bring you satisfaction? Purpose? You’re clearly an intelligent young lady and have a mind for business and horses, and I just happen to find myself in need of someone with such talents.” He reached into a pocket of his coat, slowing as he saw her grip on her revolver tense, before producing a few pieces of paper. He gently placed them on the counter between them. Alma couldn’t help but gape a little when she recognised her own handiwork. “I’ve seen how you operate. Smart idea, faking the papers to get a higher price. I bet you’re making a killing out of the rich fools around here.” He paused again, for dramatic effect or to assess her reaction, Alma wasn’t sure. “Wouldn’t you rather put your skills to better use? Me and mine can offer you that and more.”

Alma fought the urge to ask where he’d got the papers from. “Let me guess? By ‘better use’, you mean scamming people for you, rather than this business? You must think me a proper idiot, just like that John of yours.”

It was an insult, and she’d meant it as one, but Dutch only kept smiling. Something in his eyes had sparked. “Think bigger! The government would see us civilised, chained up, would see our freedoms taken away. The rich folk around here no doubt deserve to lose some cash to you, sure, but a woman with your talents could be doing more than taking coin from a few oblivious ranchers. You and me and the others in my community? We can make a real difference.”

Surely he was a fool. The government? His community? Alma had seen how the law and the government treated people who didn’t fit in, people who lived outside the confines of society, and it weren’t pretty. As much as she hated the system sometimes, she had no desire to slide back into the fear she’d only just managed to crawl out of. 

Then again, what had her parents gained by being dutiful citizens? They’d been happy, for a time she supposed, but what were they now other than six feet under with no gravemarkers for Alma to visit? They’d done what they were told, had tried to live the great American dream, and it had torn them up and spat them back out like they were nothing. 

Worse than nothing. 

Still. Going in guns blazing surely wasn’t the solution either. No matter how many big, pretty words people like Dutch used to decorate it.

Gregory had apparently decided to finally do the job his cousin had asked him to, and Alma could hear him trudging through the stable in her general direction. She forcibly shook herself from her thoughts and perched back on her stool. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m mighty fine sticking to scamming the rich folk around here. Thanks, but no thanks.” She rested her revolver on the counter between them. “Now, if you don’t have a horse to trade, I think it’s time you left, sir.”

If Dutch was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. He simply smiled and held his hands in mock surrender, rings glinting again. “Well, if you change your mind, my associates and I will be in town for the next few days. We’ll be in the saloon, or nearby at the very least. You have a good day, Miss …?”

Alma bit the inside of her gum. Threw caution to the wind. “Alma McArthy.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss McArthy.” Dutch started walking backwards to his pretty horse with his pretty waistcoat and perfectly styled hair, and smiled. “Think about my offer?”

“Don’t count on it,” she called after him.

Gregory was beside her now, leaning over her shoulder to glare at Dutch’s receding form. His horse was small, fast no doubt, but he took his time trotting back up the path and over the rise. Alma kept her gun out until he was fully out of view.

“He give you any trouble?” Gregory grumbled, arms crossed. They were as thick as small trees.

Alma sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “Nah. Just … wanted to sell me something. I told him to sod off.”

“Hmm. Good.”

...

Alma was tossing and turning up in her loft above Jeremiah’s office, as she had been for the past few hours, when the gunfire started.

She tumbled from her cot, landing with a thud while her eyes adjusted to the near-pitch darkness. 

Another gunshot. Glass shattering. 

She fumbled across the small space for her gun belt, her revolver and the boy’s still tucked in their holsters. Lunged, then, for her coat where it hung on a hook haphazardly nailed into the far wall. The off-white of her sleep shirt near-glowed in the dark; even with her coat tugged on, her knees were still exposed. 

Another gunshot, another, another. Screaming. The horses were whinnying. 

A bullet shot through the wall of her loft, sending a spray of splinters towards her. Alma threw herself backwards on instinct, heart a drumbeat in her ear, and almost tripped over her boots where she’d left them scattered at the end of her shift. The whole livery was writhing as if in pain, had come alive with screams and gunfire. 

“Serves ya right!” someone - not Jeremiah or Gregory - was shouting over the cacophony. “Thieving scum!” 

It had been a relatively quiet few days, besides that boy trying to rob the place. Surely Dutch hadn’t returned? He had been a pompous ass with a stick a mile up his ass, but he hadn’t seemed to have any ill-feelings towards her or the stable. 

Alma went to make for the door, thought better of it, and tugged open the window instead. It was still at least a few hours before sunrise, the sky more stars than anything, and her eyes were still stuck with sleep. She couldn’t spy movement in the nearby treeline, but from this angle she could see figures darting about towards the front of the livery. 

“Come out here, you fucking coward!”

“Burn the place to the ground!”

“Flank them!”

It wasn’t too high of a drop, maybe a few metres. 

Another spray of bullets cut through the loft floor.

Alma jumped.

The grass and mud cushioned her fall enough that she didn’t snap both ankles on impact, and she never thought she’d be praising mud in her entire life. She made to run, slipped, fell flat on her front, and her sleepshirt was well and truly soiled now. Her mind unhelpfully supplied an image of the boy as he’d fled, bloodied and muddied as he’d been, as she now half was, and she cursed at herself. She could taste manure.

“Get the fuck outta my property!” That was Jeremiah. Alma raced to peer through a ground floor window, the glass shattered by bullets, and spied him crouched behind a stall with his rifle gripped in shaking hands. He was in the same state of undress as she was. “You good for nothing inbreds!” 

The remaining mustang was rushing its stall, as if in hopes of breaking free, and Alma could hear the roan mare crying out at the top of her lungs. Movement caught her eye towards the entrance, and she caught sight of the Thoroughbred’s tail disappearing out the stable doors with someone atop him. 

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Alma left her window behind and crept further along the outside wall, until she could just make out one of the men that had been decorating the livery in bullet holes. He was tall, criss-crossed with scars and looked as if he too had slipped in the mud at some point. Even through the grime and the black dots of her panic-riddled vision, she would recognise the family crest stitched into his coat collar anywhere.

The Darlington’s.

Well, shit.

The quickly-receding outline of the Thoroughbred disappeared over the rise. Alma wanted to punch something, shoot something, wanted to set the whole damned lot of them on fire. It was their own faults for being so complacent in guarding their property. Now, not only had a couple of hundred dollars worth of gold just run out of the livery, but it had left a trail of bullet holes in its wake. 

“ - pay for this!” The Darlington’s, those who weren’t in the process of also stealing the remaining horses, were still exchanging gunfire with Jeremiah. The mustang was giving them more trouble than it was worth, but a duo of fools were trying helplessly to muster it into submission while also avoiding getting a bullet between the eyes. 

“Darlington’s just lucky his whole goddamned stable isn’t here!” Jeremiah shouted. “Ain’t my fault he can’t keep his own things nailed down.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole!”

The roan mare was halfway out the door now, a rider grasping for her mane as they hoisted themself atop her. The swarm of gunmen was actually less than Alma had initially thought. She pulled her revolvers, crouched, aimed for the nearest idiot’s forehead.

Gregory was tackling the man into the muck before she could fire.

The two men went flying. Gregory was twice the man’s size, if not more, and easily had his opponent straddled with a fist flying towards their face before Alma could even blink. Once, twice, he slammed his fists down, spit and blood flying with every impact. Once, twice, she heard something crunch. 

Alma shifted her focus to one of the men trying to tame the mustang. Breathed. Fired. Unlike with the boy, she aimed properly this time, and the man crumpled satisfyingly as her bullet tore through his chest. The mustang reared back at the sudden freedom, sending the other man scattering away to avoid a hoof to the temple. 

Jeremiah seemed to be gaining ground too, his rifle picking off another Darlington. Alma should try to flank, get behind - 

Screaming.

Distantly, she recalled a gunshot. 

When she twisted, Gregory was looking right at her. He was still straddling the now-twitching corpse beneath him, his fists mangled messes, and his entire front was drenched in crimson. Not from his victim, though, she realised. Alma jerked forward on instinct, her body no longer her own, as she watched half his internal organs pour out of the newly-carved hole in his gut. She wasn’t sure if she was screaming. It didn’t matter. The thud of his body toppling to the mud forced her to her knees.

“You fucking bastards!”

Laughing. “Payback’s a bitch, Owens!”

“You fucking bastards!”

Hooves thundered past. The mustang, maybe. Alma forced herself to move, to throw herself behind the cover of a stall, as the gunfire kicked up again. Jeremiah was still cursing, still shouting, still firing.

She shouldn’t care so much. She’d known the man for barely a day. Her fury built, threatening to swallow her whole. He’d barely said two words to her. She wanted to kill something.

All at once, the sound came rushing back to Alma. The livery felt as though it was falling down around them. She spat out the taste of bile that had thundered up her throat, adjusted her grip on her revolvers, before standing and picking her next target. Most of the Darlington’s had fallen back to the stable entry, what with all the horses now having been properly stolen. There were still enough of them to be a threat though. Alma managed to clip one man’s shoulder, almost got another in the chest before he dived for cover, sent one falling back with a hole between the eyes.

Jeremiah cried out, deeper in the stable. Alma spun; despite the carnage, she could just make out his balding head through a hole that had been blasted through the stalls. A shadow was looming beside him. Seconds later, she could fully make out the man that had crept through the back door. 

The gunfire stopped as Jeremiah clearly struggled against his attacker. Alma, any hope of stealth long abandoned, sprinted for the pair. Gregory’s corpse. The rancher’s corpse. Her parents' corpses. Gregory’s corpse. The rancher’s -

She’d almost made it to them, had her revolvers raised, when someone slammed into her. 

Manure came rushing up to her, and for the second time that night she was rolling in it, hay and shit caught in her hair and coat. The bare skin of her legs tore against the debris of the livery floor. Her attacker, a wiry man with copper hair, immediately flipped her. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died before it could erupt from her throat as he slapped her hard enough that the stars were suddenly inside the stable.

“Now, now, who’s this, Owens?” the wiry bastard asked, smiling as he grappled with her flailing arms. Not again, not again. “She’s a little young for a whore, ain’t she?”

Jeremiah had slumped back against the stable wall, but the fury in his eyes could have burnt them all to the ground. “Get off her, you sick inbred!” 

Her wrists were now pinned above her head. Alma could feel the cool evening air on her legs as her sleep shirt rode up. Someone else had moved to grab her feet where she had been kicking them. Not again, not again.

The man that had attacked Jeremiah now leaned over her boss. He had a bloodied knife in one hand. “I was gonna put this little lady out of her misery, but I think I’ve changed my mind. After all, who’s gonna keep this place running, once all that blood catches up to you, huh old man?”

Alma screamed, writhing, and earned herself another slap. 

The man with the knife wandered over to Alma then. Dark hair swung in his face as he crouched beside her and held the butt of his knife to her temple. His breath smelt of tobacco when he said, “We’ll be seeing you mighty soon, little lady. In the meantime, lights out.”

Darkness.

...

By the time she woke the next morning, her head was pounding so hard she could barely see straight, the livery was burnt to its foundations, the horses were all long gone, and Jeremiah was a cooling corpse laid out beside her.

...

Everyone stared at Alma as she burst into the saloon.

The place was quiet, which she supposed was to be expected given it was barely midmorning. Too early for the nearby ranch hands, too late for the drunkards. A small gaggle of men were half-heartedly playing poker in the corner; the sight of her dripping blood and stinking of manure in the entry grinded their conversation to a halt. 

She wasn’t sure if she recognised anyone. She didn’t care. This town, and these wretched people, would soon be lost on the horizon behind her.

“Jesus,” the barkeep shouted at her across the room, “get lost, girl, before I throw you out myself.”

Alma ignored him.

She hadn’t bothered to change out of her soiled sleep shirt. Couldn’t, not with the livery burnt to the ground along with any of her belongings. They’d left Jeremiah’s house standing, for some reason, but the place was better left to be the mortuary it now was. The rifle slung over her shoulder was the only remnant of the place she’d had the heart to grab before making the long walk into town. Her hair was a matted mess down her back, and her knees were still lazily oozing blood where they’d been scraped raw on the stable floor. A drowned, beaten rat likely looked better.

Her heart was still pounding in her chest. Alma was sure her jaw might snap in two at any moment with how hard she had been clenching it since waking up a few hours ago.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to flee after a massacre. Any respectable, well-mannered girl of society would scarcely be seen in public alone, or at least without a good reason, lest it bring scandal. For Alma, she felt almost called to it, like a compulsion she just couldn’t shake. Always catastrophe. Always running. Always one. One day she was sure she’d run out of horizon to swallow her up. Either that, or her own fury would do it for her.

“Did ya hear me, girl? I said get lost!”

She had the rifle pointed at his forehead before he could blink. “Shut up,” she snapped, even as the sound of guns suddenly being drawn ricocheted through the saloon, “before you make me lose my goddamn fucking temper.”

“Put the gun down!” one of the patrons yelled.

The barkeep raised his hands, leaving his dishcloth to fall forgotten to the floor. “Woah, easy there missy.”

Alma chewed on her gum to still her raging thoughts. “There’s a man in town, said he’d be nearby for the next few days. Dark hair, moustache, fancy clothes. Goes by Dutch. You know him?”

The other patrons were still shouting at her. The barkeep’s eyes kept dancing between her, the rifle, and undoubtedly the guns pointed at her own head. “I ain’t answering no questions with a gun between my -”

“Do you know him?” A piece of her spit landed on his cheek.

“Who’s asking?”

Alma risked glancing to her right, towards the back of the saloon, and there in all his pretend finery was Dutch Van der Linde. The pomade in his hair was still stiff as bricks, and his outfit remained largely unchanged from when she’d seen him a few days ago. His boots were muddied at the edges, but at a quick glance he didn’t seem any worse for wear. Definitely not like he’d been involved in a major shoot-out or arson attack. 

Dutch’s gaze was cold where it landed on her. One of his hands was gripping his gun belt casually, although she didn’t doubt he was quick on the draw. It took him a moment, his eyes bouncing around her face, before they sparked in recognition. “Miss McArthy, is that you? By God you look miserable.”

“It’s been a long day.” Alma glared back at the barkeep, her nose scrunched, before begrudgingly lowering the rifle. “I’d say thanks for the assist, but I figure you probably deserved the bullet.”

The barkeep, for his part, seemed less phased without a gun in his face. “I weren’t lying, girl. Get the fuck out of my establishment. You ain’t welcome here no more.”

“Or what?” she spat, Dutch forgotten for the moment. “You’ll call the sheriff down on me? That good-for-nothing asshole couldn’t even jerk himself off if he tried .”

Someone coughed out a laugh by the stairs.

“Now, now, what Miss McArthy means to say,” Dutch said from where he’d suddenly walked up beside her, “is thank you for your incredible hospitality. We were just going, weren’t we my dear?”

“Don’t put -”

Dutch gripped her forearm. “Weren’t we?”

There were too many guns surrounding her, and she wasn’t a total fool. She’d have to find someone else to beat her anger onto. Maybe Dutch and his perfect little waistcoat would do. The look he was sending her made her insides boil enough as it was, but she eventually relented and let him drag her towards the back door.

They passed the stairs and another soft laugh escaped one of the two figures leaning there. Dutch wasn’t even looking at her as he led them outside, but called over his shoulder, “Come along, boys.”

“Real charmer you’ve got there, Dutch. I’m surprised you two didn’t get along better, Marston.”

“Oh fuck you.”

Alma waited until they were outside proper before wrenching her arm free. She still had the rifle gripped in one hand, and spun with it loosely gripped to glare at the trio. Dutch had stopped to assess her with his arms crossed, hip cocked as usual, and despite the commotion inside there was the ghost of a smile on his face. The young man beside him was as tall and broad as an oak tree, with hair like dirtied sand and a healthy spray of stubble across his jaw. He was in the process of jabbing a younger man beside him, who was all wiry limbs, dark hair and - 

“You?!” Alma shouted, stomping a step forward. 

The boy - John, if she remembered Dutch correctly - flinched back on instinct, which just seemed to make the tall man laugh. 

“Stay the hell away from me!” John shouted in the same moment that the tall man laughed, “Watch out, Marston, or she’ll skin ya alive.”

“There will be no skinning,” Dutch said with a sigh as he stepped between them all, and Alma wondered again if he was the boys’ father. “Miss McArthy, this is Arthur Morgan.” He indicated the tall man, who was still laughing under his breath. “And we all know you’re well acquainted with young John Marston.”

She just glared at them. John glared right back. Alma didn’t miss the way he rubbed absently at his shoulder.

Dutch apparently took that as an invitation to continue. “Introductions aside, I must ask, Miss McArthy, what brought you to be in such a state of disarray? I’m understandably thrilled that you’ve come to discuss what I offered but, I’ll admit I wasn’t convinced I’d ever see you again.”

There wasn’t any pretty way to describe a slaughter, she knew that from experience. Judging from the copious weapons strapped to the three men before her, she figured they weren’t squeamish. Still, she’d rather not think about it. “People change. It’s human nature, in case you weren't aware.”

He laughed. “That fire’ll sooner get you into trouble you can’t fight your way out of, miss.” He took a step towards her, hands in his pockets. “The truth?”

She glanced at John and Arthur, but they were both leaning against the back of the saloon, spectating. Fabulous. 

“You said you and your ‘community’ were out to make a difference. That you help people, take from the rich, that kinda thing.” She swallowed the bile and fire in her throat. “Turns out those oblivious ranchers you were talkin’ about weren’t so oblivious after all.”

Dutch, for his part, did look genuinely struck as the truth settled in his mind. “The stables?”

She shrugged, indicating her ruined form. “What’s left of it is standing right here.”

“I am sorry, miss. Truly.”

Alma scoffed. Began to pace, rifle still white-knuckled in front of her. “I ain’t here for your sympathy. I came for your help.”

“Dutch is many things, Miss McArthy, but he ain’t a god.” Arthur leaned forward as he spoke, his face half obscured by his hat. “Can’t turn back time, I’m afraid.”

She fought the urge to walk up and hit him. “You think I’m simple? I’m no fool.” He held up his hands in mock surrender as John snickered beside him. She turned her gaze back to Dutch, who hadn’t entirely dismissed her. “I know who did it. I know where they live. You help me settle this debt, I can make it worth your while.” 

“As sorry as I am to see you in such a state, Miss McArthy, my people and I don’t operate on revenge.”

“Bullshit you don’t!” she snapped, stepping so close she could smell Dutch’s cologne. “You’re outlaws, aren’t you? A gang? Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you lot are. ‘Community’ my ass.”

Arthur took a tentative step away from the wall, the line of his shoulder suddenly sharp. Dutch simply held her gaze, and when he spoke his voice dripped of barely-contained venom. “You’re walking on mighty thin ice, miss. Best you don’t stomp too hard.”

“I ain’t judging you. We all do what we need to get by. Hell, I’m not saint.” Alma indicated her blood-stained clothes. “I know what you are though, what you do.” She jabbed a finger into his chest despite the way he towered over her. “You said you like sticking it to rich folk. Help me do that and I can guarantee you coin for your trouble.”

The little patch of grass behind the saloon was quiet for a long moment. John had started pacing a little, still scratching at his shoulder. Arthur was watching Alma’s hands where she was gripping the rifle.

She knew she had Dutch hook line and sinker when he tilted his head, all predator. “How much coin are we talking, exactly? And from who?”

“At least a few thousand, probably more.” Arthur whistled at that. “The Darlington’s own a big ranch west of town. Follows the river, has the big fuck off homestead planted in the middle. You’ve probably seen it. They took all our horses before sparking their matches, and I’m sure there’s a few more on the property worth pinching. Their Thoroughbred stallion alone would fetch you seven hundred.”

Dutch raised an eyebrow at her with a hand on his hip. “So you expect us to not only break into a heavily guarded ranch, but also walk out of there with multiple horses that we’d then need to resell? And the establishment where we’d do such a thing just got burnt to the ground.”

John was looking at her like she’d hit her head.

“You’re outlaws, aren’t you? Surely you do this sort of thing all the time?”

“Not exactly,” Arthur said, but he was scratching his chin in thought. “I know the place, Dutch. Hosea got talking to one of the ranch hands yesterday at the store. Could be worth our time.”

“Of course it’s worth your damned time!”

 “I’ll be the one who decides that, thank you miss.” Dutch planted a hand on her shoulder. “After we do this, and it pans out, what do you say about my offer? A young lady like you would be wasted on the streets in a backwater dump like this, and I’d hate to see you suffer.”

The man was as slimy as a snake and half as pretty, but Alma wouldn’t pretend that the offer wasn’t … tempting, especially given her current circumstances. Her mumma had always warned her away from trusting powerful men, especially those with only illusions of it, but what choice did she have? She’d been burned before, and she’d likely be burned again. If they didn’t do it, she’d surely just do it to herself.

His questionable company and fashion taste aside, Dutch didn’t seem entirely insane. Arrogant, prideful - sure. At least in that regard he was honest about his intentions. Jeremiah had been a weak man, at his core, and Dutch seemed as far from weak as you could physically get. Arthur, too. John … well he didn’t count.

Alma looked at Dutch and sighed. “So you’ll go to the ranch?”

“Let’s just say you’ve sold me on the idea,” he said with a smile, squeezing her shoulder where it was still gripped in his hand. “Besides, you were right. I do like knocking rich folk down a peg or three, especially when we profit from it. It’s good for my soul and pockets.”

A chill wind rushed between the buildings. Alma remembered her state of undress, and ached for warmth and a home that no longer existed. When she met Dutch’s eyes, she saw burning. 

“If it pans out. We could all be riddled with bullets in a few days.”

“That’s the spirit, Miss McArthy!” Dutch laughed, clapping her on the back. “Arthur, see about getting the young lady cleaned up and fed, won’t you? We’ll head back to camp and start talking out this plan.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” John shouted, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re letting this psycho stay, just like that?”

Alma spat back, all venom, “Says the greasy rat who smells like he crawled out of a gutter. What are you good for anyway, besides annoying everyone?”

Dutch just rolled his eyes and walked off, calling after John over his shoulder. Arthur met Alma’s eye with a smirk, before turning to ruffle John’s dark hair where he still stood, gawking. 

“Oh, little Johnny Marston here is good for lotsa things. Failures of plans, entertainment, target practice -”

“I hate you both,” John grumbled as he stormed off after Dutch, who had already disappeared around the corner. 

Alma couldn’t really find it in herself to laugh, not crusted with blood and manure as she was, but in another life she would have. As it stood, she just slung the rifle back over her shoulder and winced as the movement caught on her bruised side. The pain made her remember Jeremiah and Gregory, slaughtered and left to rot in the sun, and she had to swallow bile for the third time that morning.

If Arthur noticed, he thankfully didn’t say anything. “I think you and me are gonna get along just fine, Miss McArthy.”

In the almost-midday sun, the blue of his eyes glinted. “I wouldn’t be so sure, not with the company you keep.” He laughed under his breath. “And … just Alma is fine, if it’s all the same to you.”

He waved a hand in the general direction of the main street, and Alma down a nearby alley beside him. His shadow engulfed her. “‘Course. Let’s get you cleaned up and pretty before we all get shot by your ranchers tomorrow.”

“Don’t blame me for being realistic. And they ain’t my ranchers. I’d sooner see ‘em gutted like pigs for what they did.”

Arthur looked at her with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head, but kept pace with her as they headed towards the local hotel. “Miss Grimshaw is gonna love you.”

...

Two days later, Alma was fleeing the Darlington ranch with a few hundred dollars in her pockets and a freshly stolen mustang mare underneath her. A week later, she was halfway across the state with a gang of outlaws known as the Van der Linde gang. 

And that, as they say, is that.

...

TAGLIST:

@nokstella, @celticwoman, @florbelles, @zahra-hydris, @arborstone

@kibellah, @carrionsflower, @fenharel, @daerans, @fashionablyfyrdraaca

@loriane-elmuerto, @imogenkol, @knakrack, @roguecritter

[make-dragonspyre-great-again]

finally doing a pinned!! 📍

You can call me Sylvie! Or "that one guy who really likes dragonspyre", whatever you can come up with. Drake or Draco are cool too.

Any pronouns r fine, no specific preference. Gender isn't real.

This is one of my many sideblogs I keep my interests to, so if I have a long period of inactivity on here that probably means my hyperfixation has swapped! I'll be back one day though - consider that a threat.

dms and asks are always open even if you just wanna chat!! i'll try to get to them asap, feel free to tag me in things and toss ask games into my askbox, don't be afraid about spamming as I love seeing numbers get big

I have a strangely large collection of pets so if you need a lend for your tome or need a pet body, feel free to hmu!

i have some pets with damage/resist talents i'd be happy to lend if you need to work on a "proper meta" pet! (balance, death and storm atm - working on the other schools slowly)

if you get stuck on any bosses i’d be happy to try and help, i have two maxes so let me know if you'd rather i play support or hit for you

this will be updated as I think of more things to add!

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── 🐉 ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

tag guide:

#questlog ;; posts i make as part of my questing experience on any of my wizards

#oc: [name] ;; replacing [name] with the characters name, mostly just a collection tag for that specific oc

#offtopic ;; self-explanatory, not usually wiz related

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── 🐉 ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Under the read more is my ingame character list if you wanna ask me about them! I just put the quick jist of information. I have a document that goes more in-depth about their personality, backstory and appearance + various trivia alongside more wiz and pirate related characters etc that reside in the same universe. (If you wish to see the document... you must answer my riddles three...)

In-game character list:

Wizard101

⚖️ Alicia DragonHeart, Sorcerer - main!

Lady of the Falling Sky / Divine Paradox

Any Pronouns

Formerly human, now full Draconian/Dragon Titan on account of The Curse and untrained polymorphing.

💀 Destiny NightStalker, Necromancer

Phantom's Menace / Undead Executioner

Token Transmasc, he/they/it

It's hard to tell whether he's human, part undead or potentially a wraith but one thing for sure is despite all odds he's still kicking.

⛈️ Rika TempestSurge, Diviner - current questing character in Mirage

Stormbreaker / Champion of Stars and Tides

She/they/it/xe

Kraken

🍀 Sierra LifeBloom, Theurgist

Ward against Blight / Scion of Bartleby

She/they/fae

Forest Fairy

Raised by polyamorous female dryads deep in the Avalon forest

🔥 Kestrel SunPyre, Pyromancer

Fire Starter / Harbringer of Daylight

She/they

Might be part cat? Thinking about it

Adopted by middle-class Marleybonians dogs

❄️ Holly GrimTundra, Thaumaturge

Valiant of the Sunless Shrine

She/they

⚠️ Morgan LegendHunter, Conjurer - I plan to quest on them when the Krokotopia graphic revamp hits live

Victor of Kan Davasi / Cipher of Lost Glyphs

Three-eyed Cyclops

They/them. Gets called "she" or "he" rather often and typically just responds with a tired sigh.

Pirate101

Cecilia Silver, Witchdoctor - main

Has the same first name as my Sorcerer in-game, but lore and character-wise I refer to her as Cecilia to help separate them

She/xe/they

Merciless Faith, Swashbuckler

She/they

Two-faced Harmony, Buccaneer

He/she

My Privateer and Musketeer will be added whenever I get around to making them, which might be a while since I don't play pirate as much as I do wiz and typically only play during the free weeks. I can only afford one membership at a time because of the ridiculous prices :(

[umbral-dominant]

-Opposing Loyalty-

[Closed Starter for @voidtouched-blue ]

The bed was comfortable.

He hated it.

Loathed the way soft fabric felt as gentle to his skin as once warmed grasses, cradled in guest's adornments with supple relaxation - a slumber’s call he so denied, vehement in distance towards Waloed’s presented treaties.

Though Aramis stared up at the wooden top that draped curtains across the bedposts in dark satin walls, he knew this temptation of solitude was a farce. As it had been for the last six months. Long had that Dark King given him the patience to enjoy this hospitality; and longer still had the Umbral Dominant denied the proffered olive branch.

With a calloused hand, he brushed raven black locks from his vision with a muted sigh - an exhale reserved for boredom, paired with a wince as the aching reminder of his hurts that remained. One might call him a fool to challenge the hand that feeds, but he found no such failure in defiance.

Never, would he submit.

Even if violence had earned some measure of respect from that absent lord, his loyalty towards his chosen sun would not falter…

Why hadn’t they sought him out yet? Certainly Barnabas’s words of abandonment held no water-

Fingernails tightened to etch into his palm. The thought was denied.

Impatient in the silence, the man sat up with the audible clink of chain as his collared leash followed. Lashed to the cord that hung within the center of the rounded room, the prisoner had a full comfortable roam of his abode - the length of enchanted wire that the end was attached too provided a longer reach, and the only lock within the shackle - designed for his ‘guardian’ to unhook him as needed.

A dragon within it’s den. Pacing. Waiting. Sparking stones stolen from the throat.

Ruby eyes slid over to the clockface, counting the hands in notion to the crowning daylight. She would be here soon. Punctual. Loyal in her own way. Respectable. Strange. Moving to stand, his hand reached for the prosthetic limb - comfortable, well crafted materials - beginning the tedious task of tying belt and garter; rolling his left pant up as ever to feel the scar beneath ghost a feeling never lost, before latching the false leg in place.

Standing took a moment, shuffling to adjust minute edges of his comfort, before that near imperceptible limp brought idle hands to ‘his’ dresser, a buttoned shirt of quality blue draped across his shoulders - a soft, flimsy material. Expensive. Quality. Bribery.

He hated it.

The buttons seemed to hate him too; disagreeing with the attempt to close until he gave up. Obviously Waloedian fashion was not made for his stature nor build. The collar turned in time with the chain as he moved, shuffled out of his way in an annoyance of ever present sound.

Would she reprimand him again? Once more did he challenge her lord. Once more did his body complain in that deserved loss. It didn’t matter.

The clock clicked.

Aramis moved to stand at the middle, not something expected in command, but known by habit. Watching the door. Waiting for the pattern to repeat.

He would never hear her coming. Not with the paws that swallowed all noise, or the dexterity that balanced feline features.

…But the voice would be a welcome break from the weight of his thoughts, or the visits of the King. A weakness of his enjoyment of more acceptable company. Lest he fall to madness of pent up emotion, of wrath so tightly wound.

A slim shadow beneath the door-

[fluffydavey]

❛ keep it. it looks better on you. ❜ - you know

soft and sweet sentence starters || prompts

Davey wakes up in a tiny, uncomfortable bed, with the daylight setting just right as he blinks his eyes open. "Take in my penthouse," Jack had told him the night prior, Davey's first time staying overnight in the lodgings. He looked up at the beautiful New York summer night ahead of him, trying to take in every single moment. When he finally turned his attention back to Jack, he had been surprised to find that Jack was watching him, smiling. He remembers getting flustered, saying something about needing to get ready for bed, which brought on the horrible realisation that he would be getting changed into his night clothes in the same room as Jack freaking Kelly.

He'd survived, just about, staring directly ahead of him so his eyes wouldn't wander to his best friend who was also changing, and they had crawled into Jack's tiny bed, with Jack apologising and Davey shrugging it off. It hadn't really mattered, he just wanted to sleep.

When Davey wakes, Jack's arm is draped across Davey's side, pulling him impossibly closer to the other boy. He stays still for a moment, watching the usually energetic and magnetic boy sleeping peacefully beside him. He's not even sure what time it is, but then he realises what day it is, and Davey looks up to see that Crutchie's already gone down. He calls Jack's name to wake him, because Davey's going to be late for school if he doesn't manage to sneak out of the lodgings as fast as humanly possible. Jack's slow to wake, but he quickly detangles himself from Davey, barely looking at the other boy.

Davey grabs at his school uniform which he had brought, throwing his shirt on in a hurry. Jack's cursing to himself, and from the loud thump coming from behind him, it sounds like Jack's struggling to get a move on too. If he couldn't look Jack in the eyes last night, he certainly can't now. He grabs his bag, tugging Jack's shoulder as he rushes behind him. They separate at the lodgings, Davey promising to return later in the evening, and he's running as fast as he can so he doesn't miss the start of his class.

It's a relatively normal day, one where he does his utmost best to avoid being around the rest of his classmates unless they're in class. He spends his lunch inside getting a headstart on his homework. He tries as hard as he can not to think about the morning, being in Jack's arms and getting to wake up next to him. If his mind goes down the road too long, he'll start thinking dangerous things. Once the day is done, he's ready to collect Les at the younger boy's school.

"Just because you had to stay home last night doesn't mean you get to be angry at me," he says to the younger boy, who's pouting at him. As much as he complains to Jack about how so many people fall for Les' sob stories when they're selling, he finds it just as hard to say no to that face of his. "I'll ask ma and pop if we can spend the night at the weekend. I gotta collect my stuff anyways, so I'm sure they won't mind."

At this, Les brightens up, and begins telling him stories about the day he had. They go home to change out of their uniforms before they meet the boys to start selling in the evening. They make it to their usual point, collecting their papers from Wiesel, when Les pulls at Davey's shirt. "Everyone's staring at you."

"Wait, what?" Davey asks, looking up from his papes to see that Les is right, and his friends are watching him like he's the next big headline. "H-hey guys, how's selling going today?"

"Why don't you ask Jack?" Albert asks, smirking. Davey looks down at Les who looks just as confused, until he hears the distinct voices of Jack and Crutchie turning the corner. When Davey looks up, his mouth goes dry as he sees Jack wearing his waistcoat from yesterday. Fuck. Jack looks up from his conversation with Crutchie, and looks just as shocked.

"Davey look!" Les says, breaking his trance. Yes, he's looking. David Jacobs is definitely looking at Jack Kelly wearing his clothes. How could he not?

"Alright boys!" Crutchie says, ruffling Les' hair. "Hope I didn't wake you up this morning Davey." By the deepening blush on Jack's cheeks, Crutchie must have caught them in the morning.

"Have I told you how nice you look yet today?" Finch asks, wrapping an arm around Jack, who elbows him in the side in response.

"Like I said this morning, we were running late. I didn't see what I was putting on," Jack sighs, looking like he's sick to death of his friends. Davey wonders just how much he's had to put up with today. Les runs off to Jo Jo, who's showing off some marbles he's found, and Davey walks over to Jack. He's acutely aware that all of their friends are watching them, but clearly his brain can't function like usual when Jack is wearing his clothes.

"Look, let me just give you this back so everyone will just - "

"Keep it," he says, without thinking. "It looks better on you."

Jack looks up, smiling slowly at Davey. He thinks he might actually self-combust under Jack's wandering eyes.

"You think?" Jack asks, making Davey tug at his satchel tightly, trying to keep as composed as he possibly can.

"Who thought Davey could be so smooth?" he hears Race say, and he's brought out of the bubble he's created with Jack, although he refuses to turn around to see just how many of their friends are watching them.

Jack barely looks bothered by their friends. "Well, if you insist. I have to say, I think it looks a lot better on you. Everything does."

Their friends begin to whistle at them, before Crutchie decides now is the time to intervene, and tells them all to get on their way. "These papes won't sell themselves fellas!"

He feels someone clap him on his back, and Davey thinks he might have died from embarrassment on the spot. Davey takes a sharp breath, and calls out for Les to follow him, letting his arms brush dangerously close against Jack's, and when he finally finds the courage to look up at the other boy, he sees the look in Jack's eyes, a promise of something to follow. He's both terrified and thrilled to find out just what Jack has in store for him.

[antlerquccn]

sentence starter from halestorm's album the strange case of... . change to fit as you see needed. potentially nsfw themes. PART ONE

Don't listen what your girlfriend says

She reads those magazines that say you fail the test

I'll slither like a viper and get you by the neck

I know a thousand ways to help you forget about her

Love bites, but so do I

You've suffered in the darkness

I'll kiss you in a way you'll never forget about me

It messes with your sanity by twisting all your thoughts around

I was down and I got up I said "Hey love I've had enough"

I've found pleasure without pain

In the daylight I'm your sweetheart your goody-two-shoes prude is a work of art

Soon you won't forget bad as can be, yeah you know I'm not so innocent

And I know you can't resist this

Boy you better run for your life

Welcome to the nightmare in my head

Just give in and you won't be sorry

Welcome to my other side

I can be the bitch

I can be the bitch, I can play the whore

I can play the whore

Better be scared, better be afraid

And I know you wanna risk it

Say hello to something scary

Welcome to my evil side

I've been a mess since you stayed

I've been a wreck since you changed

I miss the bad things the way you hate me

I miss the screaming the way that you blame me!

I miss the late nights

I love the way that it hurts!

I don't miss you, I miss the misery!

I'd rather fight than just fake it

I dare you to call my bluff

The way that you blame me!

Miss the phone calls

Don't miss you at all!

Just know that I'll make you hurt

I miss the rough sex

Makin the most of the ride before we get arrested

We're all wasted nd we're not going home tonight

If you're a freak like me wave your flag!

If you're a freak like me get off your ass!

It's our time now

So shout if you're a freak like me

This ain't no disease you don't need a cure!

It's our time now to come out!

We're underground but we will not surrender

We're gonna give them something to remember

Set that shit on fire

You were born to rise!

Are you a freak like me?

I stare, at the girl in the mirror T-shirt, torn up jeans, no beauty queen

You get underneath me and all my defenses just fall away

I am beautiful with you even in the darkest part of me

I am beautiful with you

You make it feel the way it's supposed to be

You're here with me

You see all of my scars still here you are

I bare my soul and I'm not afraid

You show me this and I believe

I've been the strong one for so long but I was wrong

Doesn't make you weak if you're needing someone

I'm not holding back I know what I want

You want me for myself, you get me like no one else

I'm right outside your door

Show me things you've never shown before

he secrets that you keep under your bed

All you have to do is let me in your room

You can be yourself you don't have to hide from me, I won't tell

I know everyone you've ever trusted has let you down

You know every part of me I let you in, I let you see all the dark and every color of my room

Let me do that for you and tell me all about your past

Baby it's all right, you're safe in here with me

It don't matter I'll take every part of you

I hear you night after night calling out my name and I find myself running to meet you

You are the only one that sees me trusts me and believes me

You are the only one the only one that knows me

It's perfectly reckless

Damn, you leave me defenseless

You let me fall apart without letting go

You pick up the pieces and you make me whole

You are the only one the only one that sees me

Put your lighter in the air and lead me back home

Come alive in the middle of a crowd

It's where you gotta be

You found your place in the world tonight

So what if it's crazy? That's gonna be me

Find yourself and lose it

We're reaching for the high notes

So what if we're crazy?

You're coming with me

We came to battle baby. We came to win the war

We won’t surrender

We can turn you on or we will turn on you

We're all survivors somehow

A little evil goes a long, long way

Got me starring in your wet dream now it's time to get real 

I'm not looking for love

You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing

You call me a freak like that means something

Can't get your way so you're sulking

Get it off your chest

I love it when you call me a bitch like it's a bad thing

Get a grip you're acting so weird 

I think I can take it from here

You gotta learn to leave when the party ends

I don't really care what you tell your friends

Can't get your way so you're angry

I don't give a shit

I love it when you call me a bitch

I think you hate me 'cause you want me

I'm just being who I wanna be but you can't deal with that

Can't get your way so you're so pissed off I think we know the rest

They're my favourite toys

We've got so many flavours that I just can't choose

We could just go home right now or maybe we could stick around for just one more drink

Let's shoot the shit

Here's to us

Here's to love

All the times that we fucked up

Fill the glass 'cause the last few days have kicked my ass

Let's toast 'cause things got better

And everything could change like that

[softersinned-arc]

@grar / starter call (accepting).

A warrior, Varric said, someone reliable, and Astoria has learned by now that questioning Varric is foolish at best. He tells the truth when it matters, and in this, it matters. And he wasn't exaggerating here, she's learned; Fenris' arrival was welcome, and that he's remained with the Inquisition at all, for whatever reason, is a gift. She is half desperate for allies, and there is something undeniably soothing about seeing him on a battlefield, swinging a sword that seems to be as tall as he is, and knowing at least he's not swinging that sword at us.

But there are no swords now, no battles, no blood. There is always something new to worry over, and not for the first time, Astoria stands at her war table, her hair in a crooked braid over her shoulder and a cloak thrown hastily over her nightgown and wrapped tightly around her in the cold, a new and inevitably important missive held in her hand as she reads by candlelight. It's so late it's early, and she'd only just begun to drift to sleep when one of Leliana's women rapped on her door to make the delivery with some urgency.

"I'm sorry to summon you like this." If she ever looks imperious in the daylight, she certainly doesn't now. Her voice is husky from exhaustion and she can't stifle a yawn, and for once, the thought of politics has her miserable. She's sent all the rest to bed; Cullen had tried to argue it and she'd insisted that at least one person she trusted to handle things while she slept should be well-rested when morning came. And she cannot quiet her mind long enough to get any rest herself, despite her body's desperation for sleep, and so she sits here, and she stares at the letter, and she ignores the tea someone brought her an hour ago that's gone cold beside her.

And so the request for his presence comes not from the Inquisitor in all her glory, but rather from an exceedingly tired woman who, if asked right now, might hand over her throne to Corypheus if it meant an uninterrupted night. "The Prince of Starkhaven wrote. We had hoped for his support, given his piety, but it seems he has conditions, should he extend any friendship to us." She remembers the tea, now, and she holds the cup between her hands, watching as the water slowly heats and her skin glows a pale gold. "He is, it seems, intending to invade Kirkwall, and demand Hawke and Anders be surrendered to him.

"You knew him, did you not?" She fights off another yawn, and she shakes her head. "Would he follow through on his threat?" And then, with a hint of real unease in her voice—"Hawke and Anders aren't still in Kirkwall, I can only assume. I can only hope. What danger is Kirkwall in, if he does move to occupy the city?"

[iruludavare]

"What are you doing out here by yourself?"

Various question sentence starters || Accepting

     Night has long fallen.

     Serena had not seen the sun, itself, set. Between thick branches and blankets of foliage, only the transition of golden, warm light to a blue cold enough to ice a heart over could hope to mark the passage of time to the heroine in the depths of Ilex Forest. Moonlight filters through the canopy, strands sieved through leaves so that they might trickle down to the forest floor in silver threads. The tethering of a sanctuary to the world that rests just outside. How long has she been walking— searching? Aimlessly trying to find the forest guardian's altar, or an exit so that she might try again tomorrow in daylight?

     Long enough, perhaps, to not have realised that she was not alone.

     A gasp leaves Serena's form at the call, and she turns around on instinct. One hand shoots up to her chest, as though spread fingers could reach through and forcibly still her racing heart. But she does not move— not a single step. Not for now.

          "M-My apologies— I didn't hear you coming. You frightened me,"

     She stammers, and as seconds pass, the hand falls back down to her side— reluctantly so. At the very least, it is comforting, to know that there is someone else here, too, and that the forest has not swallowed her whole. With that question alone— that tone—, Serena finds the tiniest shred of comfort. It is self-assured. Neither demanding nor light-hearted. As though the blonde had turned up on this other trainer's doorstep in the dead of night, and hastily knocked at the door of her home to escape some unseen danger.

     Surely, this stranger has some familiarity with this forest labyrinth.

          "I heard there is a shrine in this forest, and wanted to pay my respects, but... I think I've gotten a little lost."

[occasionalrpmemes]

Murder By Death: Spell/Bound Starters

sentences taken from the 2022 album.  edit as desired.  content warning: grief

“Get up out of your bed.  The dawn is at your door.”

“It’s a bitter truth that’s sinking in.”

“When you’re fighting devils, they’ll do anything to win.”

“Fill your pockets up with hope- so much that they choke.”

“What if I don’t wanna fight no more?”

“I don’t wanna fight no more.”

“You don’t understand, you never put in the time.”

“Doomed from the start.  We’re just born to die.”

“Someone taught you wrong, kid.  You’ve been harping on about a world where only killers get ahead.”

“You’re still listening to that thing under your bed.”

“You made your house a home, a shelter from the storm.”

“No man has ever made it alone.  Only the fakers and the cheats will tell you so.”

“They say you got to be cutthroat, a thief.”

“Someone taught you wrong, kid.”

“Kick off your boots, come out and play.”

“Come outside into the daylight.”

“Throw stones at my window in the dead of night.”

“You have always been the favorite in my eyes.”

“I loved you best, still, everything must rest.”

“I was a mess when you left.”

“One foot in front of the other.”

“I felt no freedom being free.”

“When you left, I had to put the coins over your eyes.”

“I can’t be the only one.”

“I don’t even know why you care.”

“You didn’t even notice I was there.”

“Something isn’t right.”

“Nowhere to hide.”

“Lеt ’em ride.”

“This is how it starts.  This is how things fall apart.”

“We’re left in the dust, just spitting up pieces of broken hearts.”

“You, you, I name you a crawling doubt.  May you turn to bonemeal, I cast thee out.  You shall become the loam.”

“The center can’t hold, ’cause at the center is greed.”

“We’ll bury you in the deepest trеnch, shackled, in the sea.”

“Your time has come.  You’re through.”

“Your reign is done.”

“When it finally hits ’em, when they finally see... almost feels like relief.”

“Run for your life.  Don’t look back.”

“Our homes are tinderboxes.”

“I don’t want to be a man without a country.”

“We’ve been strippеd for parts.”

“We were never free.”

“Guess I’ll go out on my own.”

“I know it is a lonesome road.  I know it is the path untook.  I know, but still I’ll go.”

“To what do I owe this lucky charm?”

“Alas, I do not know.”

“Curse this wretched empty bed.”

“I know why I must go.”

“Carry me away from here.”

“How shall I conquer this fear?”

“I don’t want that dream to ever end.”

“I’m sure that someday we’ll meet again.”

“I never sent that letter that I penned.”

“Walk with me through the darkness hand in hand.”

“When we speak, shadows form.”

“It’s a strange song we’ve sung to each other for so long.”

“Now let’s find another.”

“You have all the directions.”

“It is trying to call you home from the wilderness, alone.”

[soulmate-game]

Useful Part 2

fluff with a little hurt and comfort. If you want answers as to the lack of angst, look through my recent posts for an explanation. 

—* — * — * —* —* 

“Wait, you have a WHAT?” were the first words that the rest of the Gotham-based vigilantes heard when they finally were able to track down where Damian had gone. Dick looked over at Bruce, who was noticeably tense. No surprise there, the man had just found out that he had a second biological child. One who was apparently a superhero already, without his intervention, and also apparently had a tragic background in the League of fucking Assassin Assholes. Not to mention that Damian’s track record with meeting siblings wasn’t great, even if this one wasn’t actually new to him. Nobody had any real fear of Damian relapsing on his no-kill rule, they knew he had matured far too much to be at risk of killing for something as immature as sibling rivalry anymore. 

But there was still fear. Because this new Wayne was an Unknown Factor, and as a rule the Bats hated Unknown Factors. And they had no idea what the relationship between the two had been before they had been separated, or what it would become now. 

“That wasn’t Damian’s voice,” Dick helpfully pointed out the obvious. Bruce only frowned, doing his best (and failing) to hide his anxiety about what they would find. Silently, the group inched forward to the edge of the abandoned building they were on top of so that they could look over at what was happening. What they saw was a girl, presumably the same one who had been in a ladybug onesie and had fearlessly begun to ask them to leave Paris— until she had laid proper eyes on Robin and fled, that was. That girl was sitting down next to an unmasked Damian, who had his arm around her shoulders and let her lean into his side. He even smirked cheerfully at her question before continuing to speak to her. 

“A dragon-bat. I knew you’d love hearing about him, I’ll introduce you when you come visit the Batcave. His name is Goliath,” Damian admitted smugly. Despite the familiar attitude and pride behind his words though, his spying family couldn’t help but notice that he kept periodically rubbing the girl’s (they really needed to find out her name) shoulder in reassurance. None of them missed the tear tracks on both of their faces, or how red the girl’s eyes were. Clearly they had missed something big. 

But nobody wanted to try to figure that out yet. This scene was too precious, too breathtaking for them to interrupt just yet. They had never seen Damian this vulnerable around someone outside of their little circle before, someone from the Time Before Bruce, no less. Most of the time, only Nightwing was able to see this side to Damian. And usually the roles were reversed, with Damian being the one consoled. They had never seen him in the position of the comforter before. The pillar of support. 

It really cemented just how far he had come. 

So they watched silently as the girl flinched, pulling away a bit and hunching in on herself. The laugh she let out was small and overflowing with self-degradation. 

“You make it sound as if the rest of your family actually wants me to visit,” she replied sourly. Damian gently cuffed her over the head, frowning. 

“Two things,” he held up two fingers from his free hand. “One: They will. They accepted me, and I was— well, you remember how I used to be. Once they actually meet you, and process the fact that there’s another Wayne now, they will bombard you with more welcoming than you will know what to do with. Two: It’s Our family, Marinette. Not mine, ours.”

Well, at least they had a name now. But it seems like they had bigger issues now, like Marinette’s clearly damaged sense of self. Jason and Tim traded knowing glances; it wasn’t hard for them to guess where, or how, she might have been damaged enough to think so lowly of herself. 

They watched as Marinette shook her head. 

“I don’t know. It’s one thing to try to… to get to know you again. We used to be close before… everything,” she haltingly argued, voice small and frail and uncertain. But she never once looked away from Damian’s eyes, trying to convey as best as she could what she was feeling. “But they’re different. They don’t have any reason to trust or like me, Dami. And I’m bad at, well everything, but especially,” she waved her hands frantically as if indicating the whole situation they were in. “I mean, listen to me! I can barely articulate right now, and I’m talking to someone I’ve known my whole life! I’m a mess. Nobody wants a mess.” 

It was Damian’s turn to snort, and he pulled her right back into his side. “Please. If anything, that’s exactly the type of child Father goes looking for. We’re all a mess. Especially Father, trust me.” 

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” she accused suspiciously, but sank into his sideways embrace anyway. Damian chuckled. 

“No, I’m being honest. He’s terrible at emotions, not that I really have much room to talk. We all are pretty bad with them. But he’s the most obvious when it comes to that issue,” Damian smirked over at his sister conspiratorially. “For example. He still tries to tell people that he works alone, and pushes people away because he has this intense desire to protect, but doesn’t know how to say “I don’t want you to get hurt, stop worrying me,” so instead he says “Go away, I don’t need you,” only for us to see through that nonsense and remind him that the amount of people in his team is in the double digits already. He doesn’t want to admit he cares about us and is vulnerable—”

“Sounds familiar,” Marinette teased with a watery grin, startling a short laugh from her twin. He nudged her a little roughly (but not to roughly) and playfully glared at her. Marinette just giggled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied with a grin before waving his free hand in dismissal. “Anyway. Another example. He has no idea how to tell a stranger, “hey, I’m your father and I will not reject you. In fact, I’m completely willing to adopt you right this moment and whisk you away to Gotham and relative safety and hire an entire team of therapists to help you and buy you half the world if you asked for it,” so instead he and the rest of our emotionally constipated family just lurks on the edge of a building in broad daylight eavesdropping on us and expects us not to notice.” 

“Wait what,” Marinette’s gaze instantly whipped up towards the sky, taking only half a second to locate the aforementioned eavesdroppers. Everyone except Bruce at least had the courtesy to duck down and pretend not to be there when they noticed she had seen them, leaving Batman standing seemingly alone on the concrete roof. Marinette blinked once. Twice. Then turned to Damian. “I’m gonna blame the fact that I didn’t notice them on emotional turmoil, because there is no way I’ve gotten THAT rusty.” 

Damian smiled, but didn’t laugh. He knew that was a deflection to try and distract from Marinette’s quickly resurging self-consciousness. Her hands were already trembling again, and the fear from only minutes ago had resurfaced. The insecurity. He could practically see the words “I’m not good enough,” written in her irises. 

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her with him. “If anyone has to worry here, it’s me.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marinette whisper-hissed right back, eyes wide in disbelief and confusion. “You’re— You! Mister Perfect!” 

Damian rolled his eyes, and his self-deprecating smirk matched the laugh Marinette had given just a few minutes earlier. “For the League, maybe,” he shrugged. “Never the Wayne family. Which is why I know you’ll be fine. If they put up with everything I’ve done and still call me one of them, they’ll accept you with barely a second thought.” 

Marinette’s next argument was cut off by the sound of a dozen soft footfalls stirring up dirt not far ahead of them. The BatClan had landed from the rooftop. 

Marinette gulped. 

But if there was one thing— one thing she still remembered from her days as Marie Al-Ghul, it was how to fake pride and confidence. She straightened her shoulders automatically, lifted her chin, and pulled away from Damian’s supporting arm around her shoulder. Damian let her. 

A little bit of old resentment flared up in him as he saw Batman walk up close enough to comfortably talk with them. Resentment that he no longer held onto, but that had haunted him nearly every night of the first two years he spent with his dad. The realization that maybe his twin was the one that was meant to be a Wayne. Marie had the blue eyes, the compassion, the more specifically detective-oriented mind. The calm head. Sometimes. Marie was exactly who he imagined when he thought of a naturally born member of the BatClan. Stubborn, clever, morally just. She had risked immediate death just because she refused to fight him, for crying out loud. Because she didn’t want to hurt the boy who used to be her best friend. The only ally she had ever had, growing up. 

Meanwhile, he still had issues reigning in his anger sometimes. He had too much blood on his hands, he was more of a battlefield tactician than a long-term strategist. Still stubborn, but also completely unaware of the pain he brought others with his words or actions a lot of the time. He used to be such a rage fueled little demon, and thinking about how his sister fit the classic Wayne outline more thoroughly than he did had made him destroy more than a few practice dummies in frustration. 

But now, looking at Marinette trying so hard to appear strong and proud when he knew she was still so shattered inside, relief overpowered the old and dull resentment. This was what she needed, he could sense that easily. She, just like him all those years ago, needed Bruce and the others to start to heal her and reforge what the League had badly molded. 

“... Marinette, I suppose?” Damian nearly facepalmed at his father’s awkward attempt at a conversation starter. Marinette herself was clearly too keyed up and overthinking things to even register any amusement at the lame attempt, merely nodding with an overly serious expression on her face. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Monsieur Wayne. Or that’s my name nowadays, that is,” She stumbled a little in her response before clenching her fists and forcing herself to continue as calmly as she could muster up. “My birth name was Marie Al-Ghul.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows visibly furrowed underneath his cowl. “Was?” 

“I…” Marinette finally looked away, shame creeping back onto her face. “I was explicitly told that I was stripped of the Al-Ghul name and would be killed if I ever dared lay claim to it again. So I not-so-legally changed it. And I was later adopted.” 

Several sharp gasps or the hiss of breath through teeth bit through the quiet breeze. Nobody was necessarily surprised, Marinette could see it when she looked through her eyelashes and examined the winces and sympathy on the faces of the vigilantes before her. Batman’s shoulders were stiff, as if someone had paralyzed only his shoulder blades. 

“And the people who adopted you?” Batman pursued. Marinette couldn’t read his tone very well, but it sounded vaguely angry so she quickly raised her hands in a placating gesture and her eyes widened significantly. 

“They’ve been amazing! They don’t know anything about my past, or who raised me, but they are endlessly patient with me. I mean, honestly! Sabine caught me when I was trying to steal one of her gold bracelets in Hong Kong— and I know I’ve never been as good of a combatant as Dami, but I’ve always been better at sleight of hand and stealth so honestly that’s impressive— and she saw my dirty eight-year-old face and for some reason decided, ‘yeah I want this one as my daughter’ and roped Tom right into it and next thing I know they somehow tailed me to my hideout? I still don’t know how the hell they managed that, but Tom had a huge plate of steaming buns and I was so hungry and suddenly it’s two years later and I’m adopted and we’re on a plane to Paris—” Marinette threw up her hands. “I still don’t fully grasp what happened sometimes.” 

She belatedly seemed to realize that she had just gone on an entire breathless rant at the speed of sound, and slapped her hands over her mouth before lunging into a deep bow. “I apologize! I spoke horridly out of turn!” 

To her surprise though, she was met with a soft laugh instead of a scolding. She jerked in surprise, whipping her head up only to see Batman holding a hand over his chin to hide his large grin. It only took another second for the boys behind him to laugh a lot LESS softly. Nightwing strolled over casually and swung an arm around both her and Damian’s shoulders, playfully nudging her brother with his knee. 

“I think she fits right in, don’t you little D?” 

“Of course,” Damian scoffed, though his eyes were playful. “She is a Wayne by blood. She ‘fits in’ more than you strays.” 

“Dami!” Marinette whipped back to him and puffed out her cheeks. “That was uncalled for!” she barked. Damian held his hands up in surrender. 

“Relax,” he said as soothingly as he could manage. “They know I’m joking,” he dropped his hands and a knowing smirk took over his face. “And besides, now you’re relaxed so my plan worked,” Marinette could only blink at that. She… did feel more relaxed, actually. “Also. I told you you’d be accepted easily. They already consider you one of us.” 

“Wha— there’s no way—” she frantically looked at each of the older men around her, but each of them just shot her a smile or grin and a short nod. Her shoulders and jaw both fell, and it broke a little of everyone’s heart. 

Marinette looked so utterly shocked, bewildered to be accepted as if it was still something profoundly foreign to her. And there was that disbelief in her eyes, that distrust that screamed that she expected some sort of lie here. That told that she thought this would all crumble away at any second. If anyone had any reservations about bringing her into their inner circles, it vanished right that moment. She needed support, or she’d crumble away and they all knew it. 

“How about we start by talking about the situation with Hawkmoth?” Red Robin spoke up, walking forward to stand beside Batman. “I assume that’s a little more in your element?” 

Damian silently vowed to thank Tim later for that. In a silent, completely anonymous way of course. Couldn’t have Tim thinking they were friends or something now, could he? Marinette instantly straightened up and nodded, her confidence returning with a little more sincerity this time. 

“Yeah. Yeah, let me transform again. It’ll be easier to explain.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

It was three weeks later, on Marinette’s third now-weekly visit to the Batcave, when the question finally came up. Jason had asked to spar with Marinette for the first time, having seen her in action as Ladybug and wanting to test the girl when she didn’t have superpowers to rely on. Damian hadn’t been down in the cave to warn him, and the result was Jason’s gut sinking as Marinette scrambled as far away from him as she could, eyes wide and chest heaving in the beginnings of a panic attack. 

“Shit,” Jason muttered before he quickly knelt down and did his best to talk her down, to calm her until her breathing slowed and her pupils were back to normal. It wasn’t long afterwards that Marinette started hugging herself, refusing to look at him. But he wasn’t going to just back down, he wanted to solve this issue. If even the mere suggestion of a spar was enough to set her off, he needed to figure out why and fix it. 

So he carefully lowered himself so he was sitting only a foot away from her, resting his arms across his knees casually. 

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t think it would be a sore subject. That’s on me.” 

Marinette just shrugged, but didn’t answer him. She just buried her face in her arms and took a shaky breath. 

Jason let the silence linger for a while before trying again. “Does this have to do with certain Asshole Assassins?” 

That startled a slightly hysterical bark of laughter from her, and she had to wipe away a few tears when she raised her head and finally turned it in his direction slightly. Not enough for her to be looking at him,  but just a subtle turn to show that she was listening and speaking to him. “Yeah.” 

“You know, you never told us why you got disowned,” Jason tried to make his words as casual as possible, but wasn’t surprised when Marinette still stiffened and took a sharp breath. He didn’t push. The stage was set, and he’d wait until either she took the opportunity to open up or told him to leave well enough alone. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and her foot tapped on the ground a bit. Clear signs of her anxiety around the subject, and Jason’s hopes vanished a little. He would probably have to wait longer for her to be ready to share.

But, to his pleasant surprise, he was wrong. She took another few minutes to gather her thoughts, but she did eventually open up to him. 

“I refused to fight Damian,” she admitted. “It was… We were seven. It wasn’t supposed to be a fight to the death, but it was a very important spar. We were using live weaponry, and we were told to fight until we couldn’t anymore. Whoever fell first would be relegated as a mere soldier, and have to fight for status like any other assassin in the League. The winner would officially be named as G— as Ra’s Heir. I didn’t want to fight, because I knew Damian would win but I also knew that it wouldn’t be as easy as Ra’s probably expected if I gave it my all like he wanted. I knew both Damian and I would be heavily injured if I did as he asked, and it wouldn’t be worth it. If I misjudged anything, any single hit, I could have accidentally injured Damian permanently and ruined his worth in Ra’s eyes, and that wasn’t an option. I didn’t care that throwing the fight was as good as giving up my life, because at least I could be sure that Damian kept his. I could make sure that he was treated well, or as well as anyone could hope for in the League anyway. I could, with only a few words, make sure he became indispensable. Ra’s and Talia never liked me as much as Damian anyway, I figured… I figured it was nobody’s loss,” She swallowed heavily, clenching her eyes shut. “I was always just the spare. The extra. Damian was their crown prince, the one with actual value. Even to me. I saw him, and I saw everything I wanted to be. I… I tossed down my weapons and let him stab me, because I figured I owed it to him for being such a failure in comparison to him. That I owed it to him to do everything I could to make things easier for him, since I was just an unnecessary obstacle—” strong arms wrapped around her, and she turned to sob into Jason’s chest as he just silently held her. 

“Idiot,” Damian whispered, making Marinette jump. Her twin sat only a few feet away, though only Jason would have known when exactly he had gotten there with them. He shook his head at her. “I never would have gotten as far as I did without you,” he whispered, looking up at the cave ceiling. “You were the only real rival I had. When you left, everything was either too easy or nearly impossible, nothing was the same as trying my best against someone who was just as good as me. And when I got here and met the others, I didn’t think any of them were worthy of taking your position, you know,” he scoffed a bit as he got lost in his memories. “That’s why I hated Tim for so long, I think. He reminded me of you so much that I wanted nothing more than to punch him for daring to replace you—”

“Heh, the Replacement twice over, huh?” Jason joked. Damian chuckled with a small eye roll. 

“Plus, he just has a really punchable face,” Damian added, trying to distract from the emotion behind everything he had just admitted. “Part of me thought you were dead. The other part refused to believe that. And seeing Tim and how some of his mannerisms were the same as yours,” Damian shrugged a little. “It stung. Especially that second year, when I started to regret that you never had the chance to come here and join them with me. Meet them with me.” 

Marinette sniffled. “... Who are you and what have you done with Dami? He’s never this sappy.” 

Damian flicked a pebble at her head with a good natured glare, successfully diffusing the serious air a little. Marinette wouldn’t ever be normal, and it would take a while before she was no longer fragile, but she could get there. Especially now that her bridges with her brother had been mended, and and a whole new family had cropped up to help support her. 

She was glad Damian had convinced her to try, again.  

[laddieseddiemunster]

Would you be open to writing a poly! Lost boys smut fic where the reader had a rough day so they just go down on the reader for hours to make her feel good? I love you’re writing btw!❤️

Yes, I would be open to :)

Thank you very much! Hope you enjoy!

Rough Day (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

warning(s): lots of nsfw, minors don’t read.

You’ve had days like these before, but this one was a train wreck. Everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong. For starters, you overslept and was almost late for work. Rushing in the early morning isn’t a good start to anyone’s day. The second you got to work you had a headache from rushing, and your co-worker had taken a sick day, which only meant more work for you. Customers were rude like always, and there were huge lines at all the fast food places, which meant you literally had to inhale your lunch when you got it. You felt so stressed, and the only thing you could look forward to was seeing the boys after your shift.

The second your shift was over, you got in your car and drove to the cave. There was still daylight out, so the boys were still asleep. You didn’t feel like waiting for them to come to your house. Seeing them as soon as possible was the only thing that could brighten your dark and stressful day. If anyone could cheer you up it’d be them.

When you arrived at the cave, the boys were still asleep. So, you went over to the couch and collapsed almost immediately. You wrapped yourself up in one of Paul’s jackets he let you keep borrow. They’d definitely be awake once the sun had gone down, and they were the only ones you’d be happy to wake up to.

You hadn’t been sleeping for very long when you felt someone launch themselves on you making you wake up. You groaned at first, but then you started to giggle when you felt the person start to plant kisses all over your face.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Paul said before planting one more kiss on your lips.

Marko shoved Paul out of the way to give you a kiss on the jaw. “You couldn’t wait for us to wake up, huh, baby?” He said and gave you a long kiss on your lips.

“I had a rough day at work,” you groaned while running your fingers in Marko’s hair as he placed more kisses along your jaw.

Dwayne bent down to place a kiss on your temple. “What happened, sweetheart?”

“Everything,” you mumbled while stretching your arms out. David had been sitting in his wheelchair letting the boys shower you with attention, but now it’s his turn. He called you over to him and let you sit on his lap.

“How bad was it?” He asked referring to your day at work.

“Horrible,” you said nuzzling up in his chest.

David grabbed your chin making your eyes dart to his. “The day’s not over yet, kitten.” He attached his lips onto yours while gripping onto your hip with one hand. His other hand was on your jaw. He pulled away slowly and gently lifted you off of his lap. Without saying a word, he walked away from you and into the bedroom in the cave that you occasionally used. You had a feeling what was coming, and you weren’t about to refuse. So, you followed David into the bedroom.

David sat on the bed and grabbed your wrist to pull you down on the bed. He then, grabbed your hips and got on top of you with his knees resting on the bed.

“Bad day, huh?” David asked with his face directly above yours. You nodded. David smirked before attaching his lips onto yours. His tongue snuck in between yours lips, and the two of you started to battle for dominance. David’s hand snuck down to your shirt and he started to unbutton it starting from bottom to top. Once all the buttons were unbuttoned, David’s hands pushed sleeves behind your shoulders and slowly pulled them down your arms, leaving you in a bra.

David pulled away from your lips with a smirk on his face. His hands reached behind your back to unclip your bra. He pulled the straps down your arms to reveal your breasts to the world. He tossed the bra to hell knows where, and he kissed so roughly that it took your breath away. With both of his hands massaging your breasts, he nibbled on your bottom lip before lowering down to your bottoms. He unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down so quickly it was a miracle that they didn’t rip. Your panties were the only thing left on your body, and David looked at them like they were a meal. Instead of using his hands to remove them, David decided to take in the moment. He lowered his head towards your body, and let the tip of his nose slide down your chest to take in your scent. Once his reached down to your panties, he grabbed the top of them with his teeth, and started to drag them down. He lifted your thighs up so they’d come off faster. He let them go when they were down to your ankles, and he let you kick them off yourself.

Now that you were completely undressed, David didn’t want to waste any time. He knew that the other boys were outside the room probably getting pretty impatient, but he’d be damned if he let them interrupt. David grabbed your thighs and rested them on his shoulders. He pulled your hips up towards him, and he gave you a quick smirk before moving his head downwards. Before you knew it, you felt David’s tongue start to tease your wet clit. You felt your back arch at the feeling with a moan escaping your lips. David let his tongue do the work by pumping it in and out of you. His hands gripped your hips as he kept pulled you up towards him.

Both of you knew that your orgasm was on its way, so David stopped giving you oral and unzipped his pants. He entered you quite quick, but pulled back so it was only the tip of his cock that was in you.

“David, please,” you whimpered. Your orgasm was almost there, and his teasing didn’t help.

“What is it, kitten,” David asked knowing exactly what you wanted.

“Fuck me, David! Please! I’m gonna come!” You begged him. David chuckled, but that was enough for him. He grabbed the sides of your hips and pulled you down to push the rest of himself inside of you. David moaned softly feeling the tightness of your pussy against his cock. But, this time, it wasn’t about him, it was about him giving you a pleasant experience on this horrible day of yours.

David started to pick up the pace. He let his hips smack against yours as he felt his orgasm coming. Your moans started to increase, until you let out a scream as you came all over David’s cock. His orgasm came quickly after. Right when he knew he was about to come, he pulled his dick out of you, and he came all over your chest. He massaged your breasts that were now covered in his come, and he gave you some long passionate kisses before putting his pants back on.

“The day has only started, kitten,” David said before leaving the room. He walked back to the where the boys were waiting impatiently. The boys looked at him, and then back at each other. David sat on his wheelchair and pulled a cigarette out of his jacket, and he started to smoke it as if nothing had happened.

Marko and Paul started to argue on who was going to go next. “I’m going next!” “No! I’m going next!” they yelled as they started to rumble. Dwayne knew that he wasn’t going to be able to go next. He rolled his eyes as he watched Marko push Paul into the broken fountain. Since Paul was now distracted, Marko took his chance and ran into the bedroom with Paul yelling some curses behind him.

Marko launched himself onto the bed and admired your nude body. He pushed some of your hair away from your face before massaging your jaw with his thumb. “Did you miss me, baby?” he asked with a smirk.

Instead of letting you respond, Marko slammed his lips onto yours letting his tongue explore the inside of your mouth. Since you were already undressed, Marko gripped onto one of your breasts, and poked at your nipple. Marko wants you to have an orgasm before he fucks you, so he makes sure his foreplay is magnificent.

Marko slowly stopped making out with you until he was giving you some small pecks on your lips. He removed his jacket, and started to kiss down your body until he reached your breasts. Once he reached one of your breasts he gave you a mischievous grin before starting to suck on your exposed nipple. He’d suck and lick it almost like a baby with it’s moms tit. After sucking on your breast, Marko moved up a little bit to give you one big purple hickey right above your nipple. He gave one of your tits a hickey, so he can’t leave the other one empty handed.

While sucking on your other tit, you were caught by surprise when you felt two fingers start to enter your clit. You gasped and moaned as you felt the two fingers curl up inside of you. Marko attached his lips onto yours, so he could swallow all of your moans. Two fingers turned into three, and three turned into four, and your moans only got louder against Marko’s lips. He started to pump his fingers in and out of you to make your moans so loud that not even his lips could hide them. Every time he pumped them back in he’d curl them and then pull them back out. Marko knew you were close, so he took advantage of it. He pumped his fingers in and out so quickly that your orgasm was there before you knew it. You screamed out Marko’s name as you came all over his fingers. He smiled and licked off all of your come off of his fingers, then he started to remove his pants.

Once Marko’s pants and boxers were off, he was spreading your legs and entering your pussy. You let out a yelp as you felt Marko’s hip slap against yours. He held both of your thighs spread completely on the bed as he drove his dick deep into you. Marko started to go slower and slower, and he threw his head back to let out a groan of satisfaction. He grabbed onto one of your thighs, and went in deeper which made you arch your back. You started to feel another orgasm coming. Marko knew that, but he wanted you to beg him.

“Marko, I’m close,” you said along with a moan.

“I love it when you same my name,” Marko grinned as he started to pick up the pace just a little bit.

“Please, Marko, harder!” You screamed out the last word as you started to feel Marko really pick up the pace. His hips smacked against yours hard enough to leave bruises. He bent his body down so he was directly above you. As he kept the pace quick, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in the crook of his neck. Both of you were close, close as close could be. Marko’s orgasm came first. He let a loud moan as he came inside of your pussy. You came pretty much right after he did. You came all over Marko’s dick, and he slowed down once you were finished. Once he pulled himself out of your pussy that was dripping with your come and his, Marko gave you a kiss on the neck before putting his pants back on and then leaving the room.

Once Paul saw Marko leave the room, he was up and running. He doesn’t have a patient bone in his body, and if he had to wait one more minute he probably would’ve came into the room himself and told Marko to hurry up.

Paul practically flew onto the bed startling the crap outta you. Paul was already horny as hell when he saw your completely nude body laying right in front of him. He could smell your excitement in the air (it could’ve been the past come he was smelling but that’s besides the point). Paul’s hands gripped the edge of your breasts and he grinned. “How’s your day now, sugar?” he asked already knowing the answer.

You rolled your eyes and pulled him into a kiss, but he pulled away and grabbed both of you wrists and brought them above your head. “Whoa, pushy, aren’t you?” Paul smirked and snuck his lips next to your ear. “You’re hungry for my cock aren’t you?” he whispered into your ear making you shiver. “Yeah, I bet you are, you little slut. You’re just dying for me to fuck your brains out, aren’t you?” you whimpered as he nibbled on your ear.

Paul gave you a couple kisses behind your ear before saying, “I guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting, huh, baby?” Paul decided to be a little dick. If you wanted him to fuck you, you were gonna have to beg him.

With both of your arms pinned above your head, Paul start to suck on your neck. He placed red and purple hickeys all over your neck. There was so many that you looked like you had just gotten beaten up. But, Paul knew you wanted more, and he wasn’t about to give it to you just yet.

He took both of your wrists in one hand, and his other hand found its way to your breasts. Paul poked and pulled at your nipple before massaging it in his hand. You were aroused for sure, but Paul had an idea that would make you break. Suddenly, you felt two fingers poking at your clit, but they didn’t enter it. Paul dragged his fingers over your clit making you whimper.

“Stop teasing me, Paul,” you squeaked out as you felt his fingers almost enter you, but instead they kept dragging over your clit.

“Tell me what you want, sugar,” Paul said though he obviously knew damn well what you wanted him to do.

“Paul, fuck me!” you begged him. That was enough for Paul to hear. He took his pants off and in a matter of seconds, he went from having his clothes on to his dick entering your pussy. You let your head rock back as Paul was rocking his hips into you. You moaned loud enough to startle Marko’s pigeons, but neither of you cared. As far as Paul was concerned, he didn’t give a damn if the whole world heard the two of you fucking.

Paul let go of your wrists so he could grab onto both of your thighs. He pulled them up towards him, so he could rock in deeper inside of you. The deeper he got, the louder you moaned, and the closer you felt. Paul started to pick up the pace, and it really started to pick up. His hips slapped against yours, and he didn’t slow down. Your moans were now louder than ever, and your orgasms couldn’t come soon enough. Paul threw his head back as he felt himself getting close along with you.

Your orgasm came before his did. You screamed out Paul’s name with tears running down your face as you came all over his cock. Just hearing his name made Paul’s orgasm arrive, and he came inside of your pussy. Paul pulled himself out with the two of you out of breath from moaning so loud. You swore you were lucky to have a voice the next day. Paul pouted knowing that he couldn’t do a round two yet. After he put his clothes back on he came over to you and gave you a couple long kisses on your lips before leaving you. “Until next time,” he said and left the room.

Once Dwayne saw Paul walk out of the room you were in, he knew that it was finally his turn. He had waited patiently for this, and he wasn’t about to mess it up.

When he entered the room and saw your nude body before him, he remembered how lucky he was to have such a goddess. He also noticed the amount of hickeys Paul left on you. Jesus, looks like Paul couldn’t control himself. Again.

Dwayne walked over to the bed and gave you a quick kiss on your lips. Then he started to undress himself. He thought that if you were nude then he should be too. Once he was completely undressed, he carefully got on top of you and admired his girl that he was lucky to have. “Finally,” he grumbled under his breath before giving you some long passionate kisses.

“Is your day better now?” Dwayne asked with a slight smirk on his face. You pushed his shoulder playfully before pulling him into a kiss like you did with Paul. But, Dwayne didn’t pull away like Paul did. In fact, he kept the kiss going. Dwayne loved the feeling of your lips against his. It was definitely worth the wait.

Dwayne’s hands snuck down to your legs and he pulled them up so you could wrap them around his waist. Your kiss with him was put on pause when you felt Dwayne’s cock enter your pussy. You gasped against his lips, but your gasp slowly turned into a moan. Dwayne was so good at fucking you nice and slow to the point where you’d be in tears. Dwayne pumped his cock inside of you so slowly that it made you want to beg him to go faster. Dwayne must have read your mind, because he slowly started to pick up the pace. His lips never left yours, and he could practically feels your moans against his lips.

You parted your lips from his for a moment to say, “Dwayne, faster please,” you managed to whisper out the words without stuttering. Dwayne obeyed, and the pace started to go faster and faster by the second. He grabbed both of your hands with both of his and pulled them above your head. Not because he was trying to pin you to the bed, but because Dwayne always likes to hold your hands during sex. As Dwayne started to feel his dick drive deeper inside of you, he couldn’t help but moan along with you. You two ended up parting lips because it was kind of hard to kiss someone while moaning.

Dwayne looked directly into your eyes as you both felt yourselves getting closer and closer. He slowed down the pace ever so slightly trying to enjoy the moment for as long as he could. He started to feel more close than he could ever feel and he let go of your hands to grip onto your hips. Dwayne started to drive his dick deeper inside of you making you moan like crazy. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let your nails scratch down his back whenever he’d start pumping faster. You scratched him hard enough to leave marks, and that only make him pick up the pace even more. Dwayne let his nails dig into your hips as he felt his orgasm arriving. Your orgasm came before his did. You let out a scream while digging your nails down his back as you came all over his cock. Dwayne’s orgasm came directly after you, and he moaned loud enough to wake up the dead.

When you were both finished, Dwayne cupped your jaw and gave you some long kisses while murmuring that you were beautiful. Dwayne was a little sad that he had to wait a bit for a round two, but he’d wait an eternity if it meant he could be with you. Once Dwayne was all dressed he gave you a quick kiss on your nose before leaving the room.

You day was definitely a lot better now, but it wasn’t over yet. Right after Dwayne left the room, David had walked in for a round two. The other boys followed. You couldn’t even remember why your morning had been so terrible. All you could remember was that your boys made you feel a lot better. Let’s just say, none of you went to the boardwalk that day.

[shyficwriter]

Firstly (I meant to send this earlier but my life has been utterly shaken up) I loved chapter 18 of Temporary Home!!

Secondly you couldn't have come at a better time for all this, I appreciate you and your work so much it gives me so much comfort. You are my comfort fanfic writer XD

That said, thirdly, (I may ask with more lines later if that's ok) "Its not morning yet." For Yondu please!

Take as long as you need getting to this, and be sure to be taking care of yourself! Lots of love ❤

[Thank you! I'm glad you liked it! And oh my! I hope things have gotten better for you! You're so sweet! It always means so much to hear you guys say that and I'm glad my fics give you comfort <3 And it's totally ok to send more than one! Thank you so much! You're seriously so sweet!

Send me a sentence starter!]]

"It's not morning yet," Yondu grumbled, "Go back to sleep."

Peter nudged him again. "I heard something."

Yondu peeked open an eye at the boy, internally groaning and wondering if he had honestly woken him up because he had a nightmare. Peter's features were illuminated by the faint glow of the fire they had built out in the forest, having had to hike away from the ship in search of a rare and poisonous flower they had been contracted to retrieve. He looked worried, but then again, when did the kid not? That look seemed almost permanently etched in his features the whole week he'd been with them now. Hopefully he'd outgrow that soon. "Gef's on watch," Yondu told him gruffly, "If there was anythin' out there he'd have seen it." He then turned over and attempted to go back to sleep.

"Gef fell asleep." Peter retorted, shaking Yondu gently by the shoulder.

Now Yondu sat up in annoyance. Not only was the boy waking him up, but that dumbass Gef had fallen asleep on watch duty. He looked over the sleeping bodies of his crewmen, and sure enough, there was Gef. Fast asleep against the trunk of a tree instead of keeping watch and looking over the fire. Speaking of which, had died down to mostly embers in its neglect, which explained why the light had grown so faint. Damn liability, Gef was. Yondu wondered why he kept him around. He considered throwing a shoe at Gef's head to wake him up, but decided against it. He was probably more useful asleep, dumb as he was.

Yondu sighed and rubbed his face before looking at Peter. "Alright boy, what'd ya hear?"

A branch snapped in the distance and little Peter jumped. "That!" he whispered-yelled, "I think there's something out there!"

Exhaling out his nose in annoyance, Yondu had to admit the boy might be right. He pulled his boots on, grabbed his blaster, and told Peter to stay put as he quietly moved towards the sound.

Did the boy listen? Of course not. Yondu had gotten perhaps only a few meters away when Peter, who had been trailing quietly behind him, managed to stumble and fall into the Ravager Captain.

Yondu didn't cry out, to his credit, but he did jump with a start and turned, grabbing Peter by the collar when he saw who the offender was. "Thought I told ya to stay out!" he growled.

"Buddy system!" the boy insisted in a whisper.

Yondu blinked at him.

Peter then explained how his grandpa always stressed the buddy system when he'd taken him camping a couple times. Never leave the campsite without a buddy, he'd say.

Yondu frowned and released the boy. Sure, that wasn't what he usually called it, but it was something he had meant to teach the boy anyway so he wouldn't get lost. If he already knew it, he wasn't going to make him unlearn it by telling him to turn back now. He wordlessly turned back around to scan his surroundings, prepared to tell Peter there was nothing there so they could both go back to sleep, after he woke up the next person in line to replace Gef's lazy ass on watch, of course.

A couple more twigs snapped and some leaves rustled. Damn. There actually was something out there. Yondu only hoped it was something small and harmless. He wasn't in the mood to be shooting anything big or predatory. Still, he aimed his blaster in the direction of the sound, prepared to shoot. He could feel Peter's little hands clutching at his shirt as he hid behind him. That was another thing he needed to teach the boy. Ravagers don't cower in the face of danger. But that was a lesson for later, when it was daylight and he had finished sleeping, for one.

It was both a relief and a surprise when it was Kraglin who came out of the bushes, and boy was he surprised to see his captain pointing a gun at him.

Kraglin's hands immediately flew up in a gesture of surrender, any previous sleepy-ness he might have had now gone as his eyes widened and he halted in his tracks with a startled choked cry.

Yondu lowered his blaster. "Dammit, boy! What're ya doing? Ya scared the kid." He gestured to Peter, who had now stepped out from behind him sheepishly once he realized there hadn't been a monster, only Kraglin.

"Just went to take a leak, Cap'n." Kraglin stammered as he put his arms down, still a little rattled from what he had come back to.

Yondu sighed. He couldn't really fault him for that. Instead he turned his attention to Peter. "Did ya not think to look and see if anyone was missing before ya woke me up for this, boy?"

Peter pouted. "Well... you didn't either!" he retorted, crossing his arms.

Yondu narrowed his eyes. The kid had him there. Didn't mean he was going to admit it, though. After a moment he settled on, "Just go back to sleep, brat," and turned to walk back to the campsite.

"Um... Yondu?" Peter spoke up shyly.

Yondu rolled his eyes and turned back. "What now?"

He winced slightly. "I um... I need to go to the bathroom..."

Yondu rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. He just knew that was the kid's way of telling him he wanted a "buddy" to go with him because it was too dark or some shit. He stared at the boy for a second before looking to Kraglin, who hadn't quite yet closed the distance between them. He then grabbed Peter by the shoulder and shoved him in Kraglin's direction saying, "Yer takin' him."

"But-" Kraglin started.

Yondu cut him off with just the words, "Buddy system," as he walked away, leaving his now confused first mate to take care of the problem.

[sweetjekyll]

Under The Same Roof, part 2 — BBH

pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

genre: Roommate / Flatmate AU, one-shot, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, blind date rating: teen and up warnings: tiniest and slightest bit of angst and jealousy, slightly suggestive towards the end word count: 5.2k

summary: Baekhyun and Y/N have been flatmates for a while and romance is in the air.

Requested: Part 2 was highly requested by both known readers and anons, so I hope you all enjoy the continuation of the first part! (keyword “roof” + sentence “Oh my God. You’re in love with her.” from this writing game post.)

Masterlist — PART 1

A/N: aaaaah it’s finally here! Merry Christmas everyone and happy holidays. I hope you’re healthy and surrounded with love, and I hope all of you are having a good time even if you don’t celebrate Christmas. Thank you to everyone who supported the first part of this story and patiently waited for the second part, I hope you will like this one as much as the first if not more! I made it way longer than the first part and added a bonus ending. Have fun reading! stay safe ❤

⟶ To my dear readers: feedback is highly encouraged and important! as it gives me motivation to write with more passion, knowing that you like what you are reading. Please LIKE and REBLOG so more people can find this and read it. ❤ My askbox is always open for questions or to chat ❤

Enjoy! ❤

The guys could’ve spent practically all night playing games, but Chanyeol had other plans in mind after the short chat he had with Sehun and Baekhyun about the latter’s crush on his roommate. Sehun was never one to turn down an invite to drink with his friends no matter the day of the week, so the fact that he agreed immediately to Chanyeol’s suggestion when he asked the two if they wanted to go have a drink at the bar Y/N and Baekhyun worked, it was an easy “yes”. You would’ve had about an hour and a half until it was closing time at 11PM, as it was a Thursday anyway.

Baekhyun on the other hand wasn’t that easy to convince. He was supposed to work the following morning and be at his best to serve freshly brewed coffee to university students, professors and other customers who liked to linger in the early hours of daylight. Also, Thursday nights were one of the few times he got to relax after working shifts from morning to late afternoon.

“I know you two,” Baekhyun scowled at his friends, who were waiting in the doorway to his bedroom while he pushed one of his legs in a pair of old black jeans. “It’s never just one drink with you… I’ll end up wasted under one of the tables and then Y/N will have to carry me home.”

“For someone so eager to get dressed and walk out of the house, you’re complaining too much.” Sehun smirked as he nudged Chanyeol with his elbow.

“Don’t worry, it’s just one drink,” Chanyeol reassured him as Baekhyun was finally done getting dressed. “Besides, you literally live a couple of blocks from your job and neither of us has to drive. We’ll call a taxi.” There was a faint yet lingering smile of satisfaction on the taller man’s face. He wasn’t really a patient guy and his mind was still in a frenzy after coming up with a plan to get Baekhyun and his flatmate to go out on a date.

Baekhyun threw on a leather jacket and brushed back his bangs with his fingers, ready to step out of the apartment. He was about to lock the door after switching off the lights but then stopped as he thought about something for a brief moment. “Hang on, I forgot something.” He let his friends know as he hurried back inside and into the bathroom.

Once he was back and finally locked the door, both Chanyeol and Sehun got a whiff of something in the air. “Is that… Perfume?” They asked inquisitive.

Baekhyun furrowed his brows as he walked past them down the corridor. “And what about it? Y/N gifted it to me for my birthday.”

“This is going to be easier than I thought,” Chanyeol hummed as they headed towards your workplace at last.

The cafe turned into bar during evenings looked cozy in autumns and winters; some Halloween decorations lingered here and there although it was past October and halfway through into November, but the fake vine leaves painted red, yellow and orange warmed up the walls nicely. You liked the fall decorations, but you loved even more winter and Christmas decorations, although it was a hassle to take everything down and put new things up, it was still satisfying as the end result.

You spotted Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Sehun out of the corner of your eye as soon as they entered the bar thanks to the bell ringing on top of the door. “There you go, Lucas,” you placed a glass of cold beer on top of a napkin in front of one of your regular customers and looked around, quickly facing the three new friendly faces once you made sure that no one else needed your services. “Good evening guys!” You said cheerfully, a warm feeling spreading through your chest to see Baekhyun keeping his promise to come pick you up after work, even more so considering he was rather early for it.

“Ah, my favorite bartender!” Sehun mused as he leaned against the counter with a smirk on his expression. ”You look a bit overworked although there aren’t many customers.”

Baekhyun noticed it as well and looked behind the counter and around the familiar workplace. “Where’s Minseok? Weren’t you two supposed to work tonight’s shift together?”

You inhaled a long breath as you glanced down with busy eyes to grab a rag from a hidden surface on your workspace, then picked it up and cleaned the countertop in front of the three men. “I think he had something for dinner that upset his stomach to the point where he was nauseated.” You winced as you explained to them without much detail as you didn’t know how your coworker was doing after he left. “I told him to go home and rest just in case… But anyway,” you smiled once again. “What can I get you guys to drink?” You asked as you returned the rag in its previous spot and placed three napkins on the counter.

“For starters, I’d say shots of soju and then beers?” Chanyeol looked at his friends but Baekhyun shook his head when he heard the doorbell signal the arrival of more customers.

“I’ll help Y/N,” he said and promptly walked behind the counter to join you. He picked up one of the aprons matching yours from a hanger on the wall and put it on after he took off his jacket.

“Don’t worry Baek, it’s your night off,” you tried to persuade him to just enjoy the night with his friends but he just gave you his usual warm and reassuring smile that made your heart flutter with content.

“Nonsense,” he shrugged as he spun around to softly bump his shoulder into yours and looked into your eyes, “I’m happy to work with you.” You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and you could barely hide the smile that graced your lips once your coworker welcomed the new customers with a loud and cheerful tone.

Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed to the two friends sitting on the other side of the counter, across from you. Chanyeol nudged Sehun with his elbow and whispered to just play along, after he made sure that Baekhyun’s ears were out of reach for what he was about to say. You placed two shots of soju on the napkins and turned around to fill two glasses with beer. “So, Y/N,” you looked over your shoulder for a brief second at Chanyeol, “are you single?”

The question wasn’t new to your ears, especially after working as a bartender, but it still caught you off guard coming from him. “I did not expect you to ask me something like this, Mr. Park.” You confessed with a chuckle while walking back to take away the empty shot glasses and placed two glasses filled to the brim with foaming beer. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, are you?” Sehun questioned with a raised eyebrow, carefully picking up the glass to take a sip from it while holding your suspicious gaze.

You let your shoulders slump with a sigh as you averted their eyes and, without meaning to, you looked in Baekhyun’s direction. “Yes, I’m single.” You nodded as your smile faltered, you looked around at the other customers while feeling a bit nervous.

“Perfect!” Chanyeol beamed as he clapped his hands once and leaned closer to the counter, you just eyed him with suspicion. “There’s this very nice guy, he’s a bit talkative and playful,” he began explaining but kept it quite mysterious, “A friend of ours, you know… I would like you do go on a blind date with him.”

“I’m sorry… What now?” You were taken aback by his sudden request that you didn’t know how else to react. It was a nice gesture, sure… but you already had feelings for someone else and weren’t sure if a blind date would be a good idea, not at the moment at least.

“I promise he’s a very friendly and good guy,” Sehun added, playing along to Chanyeol’s plan although they didn’t even talk about it beforehand. He licked his lips to get the residue of the beer foam and arched his brows at you. “Unless you like somebody else already.” Blood rushed to your face and you felt hot under your clothes, hesitant about answering your foot started bouncing nervously and you crossed your arms. Should you be honest and tell them or should you keep it for yourself? Well… “There is someone I like.” You confessed, but it just made you sad to say it so you continued before they could ask anything else about this crush of yours. “But I don’t think it’ll work out so I might as well go on a blind date with your friend.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Baekhyun’s curious voice made you slightly jolt on your feet and you flashed him a nervous smile. “Are you going on a date?” You tilted your head unsure of what to say since he was the one person you didn’t want to find out about this blind date, at least not like this… or ever. You thought you could maybe just go at the date and never call back Chanyeol and Sehun’s friend, but then another question popped in your head. Does Baekhyun know this friend of theirs? Would he mind? It’s not like he had feelings for you, so why were you so worried about it?

Thankfully, you heard the voice of one of your customers call for you and used it as an excuse to leave. “This is a discussion for another time, I gotta go back to work!” And just like that you were gone in an instant, meanwhile Baekhyun faced Chanyeol and Sehun with a half disappointed and half irritated expression.

“A blind date?!” He hissed under his breath.

They both nodded with pleased smirks. “She said yes, so you better make this work, otherwise you’re truly hopeless.” Chanyeol replied and finally let himself taste the beer that’s been sitting in front of him on the counter for a while.

Baekhyun’s anger dissipated immediately, his eyes widened in surprise and his mouth fell agape. “You set us up on a blind date?” He whispered while stealing glances in your direction. His heart rate began speeding up while he watched you smile politely at a couple who were paying for their drinks, getting ready to leave.

“Although…” Sehun inhaled a long breath as he looked down at his drink, his smile faded. Baekhyun’s attention was immediately on him, feeling his heart drop at the man’s words. “She did say she likes someone.” Chanyeol gave him a hard nudge with his elbow, eliciting a pained groan from the man sitting next to him. “What?! I’m just saying, she didn’t say who… Y/N thinks it’s not going to work out so you don’t have to worry.”

Baekhyun sighed and scratched his head, too many thoughts were running through his head in that moment and he didn’t know how to process the fact that there indeed was someone you liked… You’ve been friends for a few years and were roommates as well, so why did you not talk to him about this person you seem to like so much?

He became rather quiet that night and even the following days, he was practically sulking since he was stuck with the thought that the blind date was going to be a disaster. That didn’t stop Chanyeol from insisting on taking care of all the details about the date, he went as far as borrowing both yours and Baekhyun’s work schedules to set up a perfect timing for you to meet. You noticed immediately the change in his behavior, he wasn’t avoiding you, he would never do that, but he was acting too distant. You tried asking but didn’t push further because maybe he needed some time for himself, otherwise he would have opened up to you, at least you hoped.

It went on like that for a couple of days until you couldn’t take it anymore, you missed Baekhyun being his usual playful and loud self, he was the source of your serotonin and it affected your mood as well. It was the last few days of November, the shop was closed for the day due to the fact that you needed to take down the autumnal decorations and brighten up the place with Christmas ones.

“Baekhyun, we really need to talk.” You told him with a preoccupied tone, hoping he wouldn’t try and dodge the conversation as he had been doing for nearly half of November. He didn’t look at you from his high place on the ladder, instead, his pupils were fixed on his fingers unrolling the fairy lights and hanging them on the wall, supported by nails that had been stuck into the bricks for who knows how many years.

“Alright, alright,” he nodded and hummed for a moment, pausing his work to look down; your hands were securely holding onto the ladder for him and keeping it in place so he felt safe to be up there, occasionally passing him Christmas decorations from the boxes piled up next to your feet. “I’ll clean and decorate the bathrooms.”

You scoffed, incredulous that he actually managed to talk about anything else but his feelings. “I’m not talking about the bathroom, but since you said you’re going to do it, I won’t stop you.”

“Damn!” He chuckled with a shake of his head and went back to fixing the lights. “Okay, let’s talk, but I warn you, if this is about me—“

“It’s precisely about you! You’ve been avoiding my questions, I’m concerned about you. Something happened and you haven’t openly spoken to me ever since that night at the bar.” You interjected and heard him complain with a groan of your name, to which you let go of the ladder, making the man almost scream in fear.

“What are you doing—“ High pitched words reached your ears as you crossed your arms and just gazed up at him with arched brows, feeling so done with his behavior. He dropped the fairy lights without meaning to and wrapped his hands on both sides of the ladder, holding on for dear life. “No, no, no— Okay, fine! I’ll tell you, just please don’t let go of the ladder.” You held onto the ladder once more and watched him climb down until he was finally to your eye level. “There’s this girl I like, I’ve liked her for a while now actually.” Baekhyun let out a long, defeated sigh. “Turns out she likes some other person and I don’t know why I thought I could—“ He stopped himself from saying anything else as he ran one of his hand over his face, frustrated that he was confessing to you how he felt, except he was still hiding the actual truth. What a coward, he thought. He was convinced now more than ever that the blind date was truly a bad idea, he just didn’t know how to tell Chanyeol that he didn’t have the balls to go through with it and accept your rejection once you found out he was your secret date. “I like her a lot.” He added.

You felt you heart fasten at his words, it was drumming so hard that the pulse in your ears felt deafening… Baekhyun liked another girl, you repeated to yourself in your head. For a short moment and in a totally awkward silence you felt like an idiot; an idiot for feeling jealousy when he mentioned another girl, when you should’ve said something to comfort him. You were frowning, unable to move or say anything coherent until you forced yourself to say: “I’m sorry.” You bit your lip and looked down at your hands. “She’s an idiot.” You spit out with slight anger lacing your words.

“Why do you say so?” His tone softened when he noticed how upset you were over what he told you, he didn’t think you would care that much about a girl not liking him back… and the worst part was that you were that girl. “She’s allowed to like someone else, it’s just that I’m a coward and I didn’t tell her that I like her because I’m afraid of her rejecting me.” It felt so surreal that he was running his mouth like that, actually confessing the truth to you but you still had no idea.

Your head head snapped up towards him with your lips parted, ready to fight back his insecurities, except you didn’t realize what you were saying until it was already too late. “Well, she’s still dumb! Because what other girl wouldn’t like you? I like you!"

"You do?" He whispered almost breathless, too stunned to say anything else as soon as he processed your words; the corners of his lips curved up in a genuine and shy smile, yet you barely saw it since you looked down and bent you body forward to pick up a box with decorations and left him standing there. Your face was burning so hot with embarrassment it almost felt like you were going to combust. "Y/N, hang on, let’s talk it out—“ He tried to go after you, but you walked past the counter and entered the women’s bathroom, closing the door behind you. You dropped the box on the counter by the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror, cursing under your breath ad at yourself for being so careless with your words.

“Wait, hold on…” One of your friends, Hana, laughed at you on the phone for the second time that night, after you explained to her what happened at the coffee shop.

“I swear to God, Hana, there’s nothing to laugh about.” You mumbled, holding your phone against your ear with you shoulder; your hands were too busy going through the clothes in your wardrobe, searching for anything remotely cute and appropriate for a blind date.

“There actually is,” she continued laughing at your misery. “You confessed to Baekhyun that you actually like him, that’s a good thing isn’t it? I mean, he didn’t have a bad reaction, so where’s the problem, Y/N?” You groaned as you threw a pair of torn up jeans on the floor of your bedroom and took your phone in your hands.

“That’s the point, I chickened out!” You walked to the foot of the bed and let yourself fall on your back, bouncing on the mattress. “He tried to talk to me about it but I just couldn’t do it, so I locked myself in the bathroom. I’m the clown of the month!”

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’re unbelievable.” Hana’s laughter rung in your ear with disbelief for the situation you got yourself into, but soon quieted down to a serious tone. “Listen, you have to face him at some point. You can’t just avoid him forever.”

You sat up on the bed and thought about what she said, your eyes burning holes into the door leading to the living room of your shared apartment. Baekhyun wasn’t home yet, he was still setting up decorations at the bar with Minseok and going over December’s inventory. “What about this girl he said he likes?” A pout formed on your lips, like a child whining to their parent.

“You won’t know until you talk to him.” You sighed out loud and eyed the mess on your bedroom floor, clothes lying on top of each other as if your wardrobe got stormed by a hurricane. “Earth to Y/N, are you there? Promise you’ll talk to him?”

You snapped out of your daze and rubbed your eyes as you replied to her. “Yeah, sure, I’ll talk to him,” you replied in defeat. “But it’ll have to wait until after this stupid blind date. It’s tonight and I don’t even know what to wear…” You heard a noise come from the living room and gasped out loud, jiggling of keys made you jump on your feat and run towards the door until you pressed your side against it. “He’s here, I gotta go. Bye Hana!” You whispered with your heart drumming in your chest and said goodbye to your friend, before hanging up the call. “Baekhyun?” You carefully called out his name and waited impatiently for a reply.

His muffled voice came from the other side of the door, and as careful as you had been, he called out your name. “Are you okay? Can I come in?” He was right outside of your bedroom, your nerves were killing you and you didn’t know what to do, yet against your better judgement, you moved away from the door and opened it. You bit your tongue as you met Baekhyun’s reassuring smile, somehow eliciting a smile from your lips as well. Seeing as you had not replied to his questions, Baekhyun let his eyes look past you and onto the pile of clothing on the floor. “Getting ready for the blind date?”

You looked in the same direction his pupils did and chuckled with a slow nod. “Yeah, I just don’t know what to wear yet…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose to wear.” The sweetness of his words made you hyper aware of the way he was looking at you now, and you weren’t sure why it seemed… different.

“Thank you…” You almost stuttered. Your heart was ramming against your ribcage so hard you could have passed out from the lightheadedness it caused you, but you forced yourself to break the eye contact and walked further inside your bedroom. You picked up two dresses from the wardrobe, one filled with cute floral patterns and the other was a solid dark blue color. “Which one looks better for a fancy dinner?” You asked him, unsure whether it was a good idea but Baekhyun actually pointed at the dark blue dress with a cheerful smile. It was weird to say the least, he appeared to be more excited for your blind date than you were, and you didn’t even know who Chanyeol was trying to set you up with. “Okay, this dress it is then.”

“By the way, I need to go out in a bit.” Baekhyun caught you off guard and you just stared at him with slightly widened eyed. “Is there anything that you need before I leave?”

“Mmmh, no… No.” You show your head and flashed him a reassuring smile even though you were still nervous. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, see you later, Y/N.” He reached out for the handle and closed the door after himself.

As soon as you heard the lock click, you exhaled a long, shaky breath and dropped the dresses on the bed. “And there he goes…” You whispered, choosing to replace the deafening silence with some music from your phone.

Baekhyun stood in the hallways while holding onto his breath, ears listening to you shuffling around your bedroom before any other sound was drowned out by you favorite playlist. He had been dreading this blind date for so many days and now that it was happening — especially after he found out he was the person you liked and not some other guy — Baekhyun felt elated. He was ready to get dressed and run out of the door to get you flowers, unfortunately not your favorite ones because they were out of season, but he was still gonna get something pretty. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you were going to react once you met him at the restaurant as your date. Too much energy was coursing through his veins in that moment, he could barely contain himself.

Everything was perfect. Baekhyun had to remember to thank Chanyeol for taking care of the reservation, the restaurant was truly lovely and felt intimate, soft fairy lights were hanging from the red brick walls, adding to the romantic atmosphere of slightly dimmed lighting, a small candle was illuminating the table at which Baekhyun sat. A bouquet of pink and white chrysanthemums rested on his right side as he, on the other hand, couldn’t help but nervously fiddle with his fingers under the tablecloth. A shy smile graced his joyful expression while his eyes darted to the watch on his left wrist, growing restless as you were late to your date.

Baekhyun’s smile faltered when he felt his phone vibrating in the pocket of his elegant blazer, he shut his eyes tightly and prayed that it wasn’t Chanyeol the one calling him with bad news, saying you stood up on the blind date at the last possible moment. You wouldn’t do that, would you? “Hello?” He answered his phone still keeping his eyes shut, but they immediately shot open once he heard your voice greet him on the other side of the line. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Where are you? Shouldn’t you be at the date?” He showered you with questions to which you didn’t know what to answer.

“Uuh—“ You hesitated for a long moment, unsure of what to say. “I’m outside of the restaurant, I’ve been for the past 5 minutes. I don’t want to go inside and meet some guy that I don’t know.” He listened to you talk really fast, almost tripping on your words as your tone dripped with nervousness and regret. “I just don’t want to meet a new guy and I’m so sorry to Chanyeol, cause I said I would do this—”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” He tried to help you calm down over the phone, resisting the urge to just stand up from the table and run to meet you outside. “Everything’s gonna be alright, okay? Do you trust me?”

Baekhyun listened to you on the other side of the line as you tried to get through your panicked state, quietly repeating short and reassuring “okays”. You released a deep breath and finally replied to him. “I trust you. Will you come pick me up, please?”

He almost chuckled at the softness of your voice, instead a warm smile returned on his face as he told you what to do. “I will, but first I need you to walk into the restaurant, it’s cold outside and you’re wearing a dress.” You agreed to do it and his eyes quickly moved towards the door, as he was sat on the opposite side of the restaurant.

Baekhyun watched as the door opened and you stepped inside, brows furrowed with worry yet you still managed to look effortlessly beautiful; long black coat shielding your body from the cold of the last weeks of autumn. He could see the dark blue of your knee length dress peeking under the coat, a small purse swaying by your side from a long chain on your left shoulder as you glanced around and were greeted by a waiter. “I’m in.” You mumbled as your eyes looked frantically around.

“Look to your right, other side of the room.” And you did, you looked towards him and nearly dropped your phone, your jaw went numb for a moment as your lips parted in disbelief. One of the waiters helped you remove your coat and accompanied you towards Baekhyun, to your table. “You’re beautiful,” the words rolled off his tongue almost like a foreign sound, he couldn’t believe that you two were actually on a date, even if he had to keep it a secret for such a long time.

You were at a loss for words, yet your chest was flooded with immense happiness. “The girl you like a lot…” You began saying and he nodded before you could finish your sentence. “A very nice guy, a bit talkative and playful,” you giggled as you quoted Chanyeol’s words when he spoke about the friend he wanted you to meet.

“Yep, that would be me.” Baekhyun picked up the flowers and slowly stepped closer to you. “I know they’re not daffodils, but I hope you like chrysanthemums too.”

“You know what I like more than flowers?” You stepped even closer to him until you could feel his hot breath on your skin, completely forgetting the rest of the world as you felt a rush of bravery while gazing into his eyes. “You.”

When Baekhyun leaned forward to steal a kiss it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if he had done it so many times before and you were out tonight celebrating an anniversary rather than a first date. The gentlest of touches left a lingering sensation of his lips on yours. The red of your lipstick transferred slightly on his lips and if you focused hard enough, you could see that his cheeks turned the same shade out of shyness and adoration.

“Hmm, what do you think?” You asked, tilting your head to the side while staring very hard at the Christmas tree.

You were currently in your new apartment with Baekhyun standing by your side, eyes focused ahead of you. “It’s crooked on one side.” The living room was bare of furniture except for a coffee table, the tv stand with the television on top of it and the Christmas tree you spent at least three hours on decorating with your boyfriend. Moving boxes were scattered all around the place.

“I think if we spin it around towards the corner of the room none of the guests will notice.” You suggested and Baekhyun hoped quickly towards the tree, being careful to avoid any boxes and discarded ornaments still lying on the floor. He crouched on his kneed and wrapped his fingers around the base of the fake pine tree, rotating the crooked side towards the corner of the room.

“What about now?” He asked as he looked up at the tree for a moment and back at you.

“Light it up.” Baekhyun took the end of a cable beneath the branches of the tree and struggled to plug it into the wall for a moment, making you giggle, but as soon as the tree was lit up, he stood up and walked back to stand by you. “Now it’s perfect!” You beamed while he wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders and brought you closer to kiss your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Baekhyun whispered in your ear, your smile became bigger and brighter when you looked into his loving eyes.

You pecked his lips with a soft kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas to you too, Baek—”

You didn’t even have time to finish saying his name because all of a sudden he snaked his arms around your waist, making you screech in surprise when he tried to lift you up from the floor and yelled at the top of his lungs: “To the bedroom, now!”

Loud giggles escaped you as you struggled to stay serious, but it was impossible when he was in a playful mood like this. “But we don’t have a bed frame yet—“

“We have a mattress and that’s enough for me!”

[chamiliaon-blog]

i added some verses to ilia’s verse page so i thought this would be a nice time to slap down a starter call if you’d like a starter from one of her verses, then pls tell me otherwise you’ll get her default ( which is basically her current canon thing or some adaptation of it where your character can fit in )

[secretsofthedarkestkind-arch]

Elena starter for @storieswrittcn​ (this may or may not have gotten away from me, Remember you said you like novella. I also took part of the ramble part one but altered it also)

We are outsiders Living inside a broken world We are outsiders And I know sometimes it can hurt But it gets better yeah we'll make it through We'll stay golden when we're black and blue We are outsiders But we're not hiding anymore This is who we really are

It had been fifteen years since she’d seen either of her brothers face to face. Fifteen years since Lee had spoken to the eldest. Fifteen years since she had thought of Mystic Falls, thought of all the ghosts that lurked within the town's shadows. Lee Salvatore had made it a habit to push anything regarding her brothers, that town, or their past to the deepest recesses of her mind. She had built life after life without them, embracing the warped gift of eternity. She hadn’t truly looked back after she’d transitioned. Finally able to become who she really was without the suffocating opinions of the church, her community, or her family.

It wasn’t an easy journey. Slow in it’s progression. Lee’s aunt had always told her she was a soul gifted before it’s proper time; her sexuality, the way she was born, her passion and skill when it came to art, her desire to see the world. None of it fit in the 1800’s. But as times changed pieces of Lee started to belong. Each change brought new opportunities, allowing Lee to start to put herself together. 

She was still an outsider, still judged--but what else would you expect living in a broken world? What didn’t fit into the neat little boxes of people’s minds, what didn’t fit the societal norm, was still given so much hate. The only difference was now there were those who fought for equality, unafraid to use their voices to promote change. Those people gave Lee hope, gave her strength. Finding those people throughout the last 145 years had shaped her.

Lee Salvatore was still an outsider, but she was also so much more. She was an artist, one with more alias’ than she could count on both hands. She was a college graduate, several degrees tucked away in a safe. She was a traveler, passports filled with stamps and a mind filled with memories she had never imagined to have. But most of all, Lee was finally able to look in the mirror and accept the person she saw; the youngest Salvatore was who she truly was. She held no more self hate. No more whispers of ghosts past haunted her. She was an outsider, but she wasn’t hiding who she really was anymore.

While Lee had taken the road of self discovery, her brothers’ hadn’t. They’d been living in a siblings quarrel, at least Damon was. Stefan suffered at every turn at their brothers hand whenever they fell into each other's orbit or Damon specifically sought him out. Lee was drugged into it whenever Damon crossed too many lines, risking their exposure to the world. 

Stefan had called her no more than seven hours ago asking for her help. There was a trail of bodies leading straight to town, ‘animal attacks’ that couldn’t be explained were catching the eye of news outlets. She hadn’t even known Stefan was back in Mystic Falls. When Lee asked him why he couldn’t just leave, he explained there was something holding him in Mystic Falls that didn’t allow him to--something that could finally give him a sense of belonging--and refused to believe the attacks were Damon. All he wanted was for Lee to be there with him, help keep the spotlight off their kind. The vampire might loathe her brothers, wanting nothing more for them to be miserable, but she wasn’t going to allow Damon to out them. 

Which is why Lee was driving down the main strip on her motorcycle. The town was busy; teens scattered across the storefronts trying to enjoy their last hours of summer vacation. She came to a stop at one of the only stoplights in town, rolling her shoulders dreading whatever was to come when she reached the boarding house. The youngest Salvatore felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, a shiver going down her spine, every nerve ending coming to life in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Lee let her head turn to the right, following the pull of whatever was happening.

‘What…” The lithe form of a brunette teen who was walking beside another girl was at the center of her focus. “Turn around.” Lee knew the brunette couldn’t hear her words. Her plea was answered as she turned, eyes almost searching. Those eyes, that’s what did it. “Who are you?” A horn from behind her snapped Lee out of her trance, for a nanosecond the two locked eyes. The vampire’s eyes hidden behind her aviators. The next Lee was pulling off, possibly faster than she should have been. Now she had the true answer of why Stefan refused to leave. 

----

Lee placed a few notebooks, her sketchbook, and a few pens into her satchel--the one she’d had since she was a teen; a gift from her aunt she’d never been able to part with. She glanced up at the ceiling hearing Stefan’s footsteps on the roof. A sigh left her lips, why had she agreed to this? She was roughly 160 years old and able to enroll herself in a Small Town America High School. It was ridiculous; a complete stalker move. There had to be other ways for Stefan to get to know this girl, if that’s even what he was truly hoping to do. For how Stef had explained the situation, Lee could tell he was only doing this because of Katherine.

Subconsciously her thumb started to play with the band of her daylight ring. She was thankful for the chance of life Katherine Pierce had given her but there was so much Lee wished was different. Shaking her head to break out of her thoughts she moved toward her closet to get dressed. Lee scanned through her options, To be me or be who society thinks I should be? It was a debate she hadn’t had in a long time. To make this work she couldn’t disturb the waters between her and her brothers too much. A short laugh left her lips, that was a joke. The three couldn’t be in the same room without starting something. As it was right now, it was just two of them. With that thought in mind Lee grabbed an outfit that would be her. 

Guys white wash skinny jeans that weren’t too tight to show her tuck, a grey and white hooded baseball tee that had a pocket on the left chest, her grey vans, and her black leather jacket she’s had since the 90’s. She finished the look with a black watch. One more look in the mirror and she was pocketing her phone with one hand and slipped her satchel over her shoulder with the other.

She knew Stefan would already be off. His stalker-like tendencies being on overdrive since the ‘animal attack’ last night after Lee had arrived. She ignored Zack who was in his office and headed to the garage, she wasn’t going to run to the school. There wasn’t anything wrong with arriving in style.

-------

Stefan met her in the parking lot. Lee took her helmet off and ran her fingers through her hair, glancing at her brother, her own sunglasses covering her eyes. “Why do you always insist on dressing like that?” He asked, judgement clear in his voice. 

“This is me Stefan. You know that. Let it go. You asked for my help so take me as I am or I get on this bike and leave.” She told him. Lee wasn’t going to put up with his judgement. The world had given her enough of that. Plus her brother had already had his fair share of giving her judgement when they were younger. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Lee stated, “This is definitely traveling into creeper status.” Stefan didn’t answer, just turned to walk through the crowd of students covering the lawn reconnecting after a summer away. She moved into step beside him, she knew they stood out; leather jackets, both well built and confident in their strides, the aurora of not giving a fuck rolling off them both. 

They finally found their way to the admissions office, standing shoulder to shoulder. Stefan handed over the file that was supposed to hold all they needed but Lee knew was missing more than a few things. She wondered which of the two would compel the woman. Stefan could but where all he drank was Bambi and Co blood who knew how long it would last. Lee sighs, she’s ready to make the move when something behind them stops her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her nerves firing up again, and she felt that pull to turn around. She also could feel a warm buzz in the air, a witch.

“Hold up. Who’s this?” The first female says, the witch.

The secretary’s voice brings her back to what’s in front of her, saying exactly what she knew was coming. “Your records are incomplete. You’re both missing immunization records and we do insist on transcripts.” Lee glances at Stefan out of the corner of her eye. The last transcripts she had were college one's back in the 1980’s. She hadn’t done high school since the late 70’s and that was only to get into Yale. Their art programs the top in the country. 

Thoughts of the past make her miss her chance, Stefan is taking his sunglasses off, “Please look again,” Lee adjusts her satchel hoping Stefan can do this right. “I’m sure everything you need for both of us is there.” Lee chews the inside of her lower lip, her free hand moving to remove her sunglasses just in case. 

The secretary looks back down, “Well you’re right.” Lee tucks her sunglasses into the collar of her shirt as the woman looks back up at her brother. “So it is.” Stefan-1, Humanity-0.

“Thank you,” Stefan, ever the polite one, says. As they turn to go, Lee glances over at her brother’s schedule. Seems they have all but one class together--Lee has art and Stefan a creative writing course. That works.

“You’re welcome,’ The secretary says, her eyes landing on the two teens in the hall. “Ahh! Miss Bennett, Miss Gilbert I’m glad you’re here. Do you think you could show our two newest students around?” She stands up from behind her desk to walk around to the siblings. “This is Lee and Stefan Salvatore. I think they both have a few classes with you both.” Lee takes in who she now know as a Bennett witch, why the magic felt warm. She gives the teen a charming smile before the pull is to much, her head being forced to turn to the brunette beside her. The vampire takes her in, all she can see is someone new. Lee doesn’t see Katherine when she looks at her. “Hi,” The charming smile turning into a much softer one. “I’m Lee.” She offers her hand to the girl.

[katfett]

A/Ns: i managed to spend the day writing and this just flowed so damn well. Working on other updates and starting chapters, Roxanne and Beauty will be the next two updates! Thank you for all the love on the first two chapters, I hope you enjoy this one! 

This is where the story will start to diverge from canon. I really didn’t like the demise of Helga, so there is no girl, the mess in York that sends Floki overboard - won’t happen.

Also, thank you Punkrocknpearls for looking over for me!

TAGLIST: @peachyboneless @youbloodymadgenius @criminaly-supernatural @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @surewhyynot @revolution-starter @punkrocknpearls @oldglitterstory @bloooferladyy

(If you wish to be added, removed - just lemme know)

SUMMARY: She wasn’t meant to be here, she was on holiday in England and the next thing she knew she was in the middle of a war. Nora needs to survive if she ever hopes of finding her way home, but she wasn’t prepared to run into the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. She wasn’t prepared for the adventure and trials coming her way.

CHAPTER THREE

When Harald finally regained full consciousness some hours later, without a splitting headache, he seethed. Halfdan had given him a rundown of what had happened in between, which only angered him more. Seeking out the sons of Ragnar, Harald found them sitting around a table talking amongst themselves quietly. They stopped as he approached.

His face was quite the sight; purple and blue bruises had started to appear across his nose and below his left eye. He looked a mess in the dull light of the torches around the place. “Where is she?”

“Locked up,” Bjorn answered, leaning back in his chair between Ubbe and Sigurd. “Where she should’ve been left in the first place.”

“You’ll give her to me.”

Bjorn’s eyes went to Ivar as the youngest brother chuckled. “Why?”

“Clearly, you couldn’t handle one small woman,” Hvitserk said as Harald followed Bjorn’s gaze. He wanted to sneer at the two brothers who sat side by side. Ivar and Hvitserk were smirking at the older man, unafraid of his reaction to their goading. “She might kill you next time, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

The older man wanted to growl, to shout, but the tenderness of his face prevented it as the smallest of movement hurt.

“I can handle the woman fine, but this,” he said, gesturing to his face, “Doesn’t go unanswered.”

Ubbe folded his arms across his chest, leaning back. “Must sting.”

Halfdan stood quietly behind his older brother, watching the scene unfold but not interjecting.

“I think it’s an improvement,” Ivar remarked, turning to his brothers like Harald wasn’t there.

“As do I.” Hvitserk was chuckling as Ubbe and Sigurd nodded their agreement.

Harald’s fists curled, clenching as he restrained himself from grabbing the youngest son by the scruff of his neck and throwing him to the floor. He leaned against the table in front of Bjorn, staring down the eldest son. “Bjorn give me the woman. I found her.”

Bjorn’s passive expression didn’t change as he motioned with a hand to Ivar. “She’s not mine to hand over.”

In the middle of negotiating with Ecbert, Bjorn had been at an impasse as to how to convince Ivar to agree to the man’s conditions. He’d approached his little brother expecting to be met with a great challenge. When he’d told Ivar that all of them had agreed to Ecbert’s deal but him, Bjorn had held his breathe. Ivar was stubborn, and selfish on the best of days.

“If you want me to agree, you have to give me something.” Ivar had said. Bjorn had asked him what it was he wanted, expecting the worse. “The woman.” It had surprised Bjorn, that was for sure. His little brother wasn’t the type of man to deal with many women beyond thralls and his mother. Margrethe had done something to him, what, he didn’t know but the venom Ivar spat about his brother’s wife led him to believe it had to do with sex. Bjorn didn’t know what he planned for the woman; he didn’t really care if he was honest. It meant he wouldn’t have to work out what to do with her.

Bjorn was grateful he wouldn’t have to argue with Ivar over this. He’d told Ivar the woman was his and then clapped his little brother on the shoulder before walking off to find Halfdan.

Harald’s gaze once again landed on the youngest Ragnarsson. “What would you want with her?”

A heavy silence: tense and uncomfortable settled over the sons of Ragnar as they looked to their little brother. They were privy to what Margrethe had told them of her encounter with Ivar, aside from Bjorn, Sigurd had tormented his little brother over it in Kattegat, but they hadn’t spoken of it to others. Had Margrethe told others?

Ivar’s jaw clenched; the only indication Harald’s words had gotten to him. “That’s my concern, not yours.”

The words held a finality to them as he and Harald stared at one another. Ivar refused to look away.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with her,” Harald growled, leaning closer to Ivar.

Ivar’s mouth twitched a little, and everyone watched as his hand went to the axe resting on the tabletop. Hvitserk stood then, leaning over the table. He didn’t hold the same contempt for his little brother that Sigurd did on occasion, and he knew if Harald kept goading, it would result in the man’s death when Ivar finally snapped. They didn’t need Ivar in a foul mood, and they didn’t need Harald dead.

“Walk away,” Hvitserk said.

Harald looked at Hvitserk, assessing the warning and then grinned. “Very well.”

He smirked at the youngest Ragnarsson who was watching him, his fingers still white knuckled on the axe. Turning, he walked away. Halfdan nodded to them before turning to follow his older brother.

***

Nora woke with a groan. It was still dark; the torches in the room she was hanging above had been extinguished and it was cold. She was grateful she still had her jacket and layers on. She’d been dreaming of everything that had happened, thinking she would now wake up and be in a hospital bed somewhere waking from a coma, or some such. It didn’t happen. She was still in the cage, still hanging above the ground. She shifted a little and winced; her back was going to hate her in the morning.

Pulling her arm back through the bar, she braced herself against them and turned a little. As she did, she saw the pale face watching her from below and froze. The one called Ivar sat in the chair watching her. How long had he been lurking there?

He hadn’t helped her when the others had put her in here. He wasn’t an ally. Glaring at him, she rolled away, presenting him her back as she curled back up. She heard him chuckle below.

She didn’t trust him; he might have taken the time to give her their names and learn hers, but she was still his prisoner. He wasn’t stupid; those eyes were cold, cunning but intelligent. Nora wasn’t going to fall for it, and she was hoping he’d take the hint and leave her alone.

He spoke.

Nora didn’t care what he said, she just wanted to be left alone. Daylight would be a better opportunity to see what she could do about getting out of here. The door of the room creaked. Glancing over her shoulder Nora could make out a single figure. She tensed as the man with the facial tattoos who she’d fought stalked forward. She rolled awkwardly and tried to press herself towards the top of the cage, unsure of what he might do.

Her gaze dropped to where Ivar sat, the glint of metal in his fingers as he watched the man approach.

***

Ivar watched her as she slept. He didn’t know why he’d come back here in the middle of the night; just to watch her sleep. One of her arms was hanging out of the cage between two bars, as she slept curled awkwardly on her belly. She was filthy; her hair was matted, and she had scraps and bruises across her face and hands. He was quiet as he watched her. It perplexed him. When Harald had walked away, his brothers had gone quiet and not really spoken to him. Angry over the slight, Ivar had left their company, not wanting to be reminded of his time with Margrethe. She’d told Sigurd of his failure, and by Harald’s words, she’d told others. He’d promised to kill her if she ever did; now, she was married to his brother, he couldn’t touch her without angering Ubbe.

A soft groan above him told Ivar the sleeping woman was waking up. Nora. He glanced up, leaning back in the chair as she shifted, and his gaze met hers. She glared down at him, not intimidated in the least. She gave him her back and Ivar chuckled a little; she was stubborn, good.

“You snore when you sleep,” he commented, knowing she couldn’t understand him but teasing her all the same. Her back stiffened but she didn’t turn back to him. She huffed above him and he grinned, spinning the knife in his hand effortlessly.

The creak alerted him to someone approaching and he turned his head to see Harald stalking toward him. Grinning, Ivar tightened his grip on the knife in his hand. “Get out.”

“You and I need to talk.” Harald knew better than to put himself in Ivar’s range and so he skirted around the youngest Ragnarsson, his attention going to the woman awake in the cage. He spat in the direction of the cage.

“We don’t,” Ivar replied, cleaning a fingernail with the knife in his hand.

“I found the woman, that makes her mine.” Ivar’s gaze went to where Nora was half crouched in the cage, her eyes on Harald. She looked terrified.

Ivar sighed. “You want her? It’ll cost you your land, your men, everything.”

Harald glowered at him, wincing as pain radiated along his features. She’d done that to him. Ivar was impressed by the damage she’d inflicted on the man; it was no easy feat. Ivar remembered Vik; Harald had murdered the man in broad daylight. It had been sloppy and fueled by an old wound reopened by a woman. He had no interest in seeing the woman above them murdered because he felt slighted.

“I could kill you, boy.”

Ivar sneered at the older man, insulted by the term boy. “I named my terms, Harald, if you don’t want to pay, you don’t want her enough.” Ivar knew Harald would never hand any of what he demanded over.

The man dropped his hand to the axe at his waist. His eyes went from Nora in the cage, to Ivar and back again. He growled, spitting in Ivar’s direction after a moment before he left. Ivar grinned as he watched the warlord stalk out. He’d been anticipating the man’s arrival; knew he’d not keep his distance. The man was too easy to predict.

***

Nora let out the breath she’d been holding throughout the interaction. What had they spoken about? Her? She didn’t want to consider what might have transpired between the two men. The moment the tattooed man’s hand dropped to the axe, Nora tensed, expecting the worst. She was surprised when he spat at the young man before storming out.

Her wide eyes went to Ivar. He was looking right at her. She slowly sunk back down to the bottom of the cage, crossing her legs, never once taking her eyes off the young man. Had he helped her?

After a moment, he nodded at her before climbing from the chair and crawling away.

“Ivar,” she said as he reached the doorway. He paused, glancing at her from over his shoulder. “Thank you.” He couldn’t understand what she said but he seemed to catch on. He didn’t say anything as he turned back and left her.

A guard appeared after a moment, sticking his head in to check that she was there. Thirsty, her stomach grumbling for something, Nora tried to go back to sleep. Tomorrow was a new day, tomorrow she might be free.

***

Halfdan and Bjorn were leaving, returning to the Mediterranean. The next morning, those who were going with him, packed what they’d need. Their discussion in the morning at breakfast was a deciding factor, the army needed to move back north. They couldn’t remain in Wessex surrounded, Ivar’s suggestion that they return to the stronghold of York and capture it was agreed upon, even if Sigurd disliked agreeing with his little brother, he saw the sound reasoning behind it.

York was close to the coast; it would allow them to raid deep into England without any northern interference. Northumbria was kingless, they posed no real threat for the time being.

“How is your little woman, brother?” Ubbe asked, joining Ivar as he watched Floki and Helga fix Fenrir’s harness and that into place and hitch him to the chariot.

Ivar had yet to go see Nora. For the time being, she was safest caged and until he was ready, she would remain there. “Caged.”

Ubbe chuckled, nudging his shoulder where they sat side by side. “What made you really ask Bjorn for her?”

Ivar grimaced at his brother’s probing. Ubbe might be passionate and lead with his heart at times, but he was keen eyed when it came to his brothers. Ivar still didn’t know exactly why he asked Bjorn for the woman. Curiosity was his main reason; she knew nothing of the common languages, but she’d somehow been found here in England, and she was dressed so differently. Her accent was strange.

“Curiosity, as to who she is.” It would be the only answer he would give any of them.

Ubbe hummed, nodding which was usually a sign he didn’t believe what he was hearing, but he didn’t argue with Ivar about it. He knew better, especially so early in the morning.

***

Nora really had to use the bathroom. It was the first thing that woke her up that morning. She was groggy and thirsty but the pressing need to pee, was insane. She lay there, trying to find a comfortable, albeit cramped, position that didn’t press on her bladder. The door opened and in strode Hvitserk, the one whose name she’d butchered so spectacularly the night before. He stopped beneath the cage, reaching up and gripping the bars as he grinned at her. Nora didn’t know what to make of the cheerful young man below her, he was handsome as he grinned up at her, but she was so desperate to pee she just scowled back at him.

“I really need the bathroom,” she said, knowing he couldn’t understand her. She squeezed her legs together hoping he might pick up on what she meant. The slight tilt of his head and frown told her he didn’t.

The door opened again. This time, all the men from last night entered, along with a jittery older man and a blonde woman. Hvitserk turned to them, his fingers still curled in the bars by her feet. Smirking, Nora pushed her boot onto his fingers earning a sharp hiss as he retracted his fingers. Payback for not getting her out so she could use the bathroom. He shook his fingers as he frowned up at her. Nora simply smiled back at him.

Ivar spoke with the jittery man from where he was on the ground, gesturing to her so often. She watched as the one named Ubbe walked over to where the rope holding the cage suspended was tied. A little hopeful, she saw him watching her. He gestured to the bite on his hand. It looked nasty and she grimaced. She only felt a little bad for biting him. Hvitserk moved to help him, and they slowly lowered her cage to the ground. Nora didn’t move as the jittery man bounded forward, a little wary of him as he approached. The woman with him smiled at her.

She looked for Ivar’s face. He was watching her quietly as the older man started to undo the lock on the cage. He nodded at her. “Floki. Helga.” He gave her their names. She slowly nodded.

Floki and Helga. As Floki pulled the cage door open, Nora resisted the urge to bolt through it and try to escape. There were just too many people in here, she wasn’t suicidal. They were letting her out, which was a start. The blonde woman, Helga, crouched by the open door and held her hand out to her. The pressing issue of Nora needing to pee made her compliant. She would behave if it meant she could use the bathroom. How to get that across though, given her failure with Hvitserk.

She uncurled herself and stepped out of the cage. She stood, a little awkward due to the situation and the stiffness in her back and legs from the cramped position she’d been stuck in. The woman smiled at her, holding her hands out to her, not as surprised or curious about her as she expected given the reactions people had to her so far. Maybe Ivar had spoken to them?

Her eyes sought him out as the woman took hold of her arms and pulled her in. It was strange to feel comforted by the way the woman gently coaxed her closer. Ivar was sitting on the chair, speaking quietly with Floki and Ubbe. Bjorn was missing, she noted.

Ivar glanced her way, as though sensing she was looking. He nodded after a moment, reading the silent question in her eyes. The woman said something and then started to guide Nora away. She thought for a moment she could use this to escape but as they left, Hvitserk trailed behind them as well as a large man with shockingly white hair. Ivar wasn’t stupid.

Helga was a kind woman; she didn’t push or shove as she showed Nora into what she assumed was a bathroom. It was a little awkward to have the woman with her, but she really needed to go. As she unzipped and started to shimmy her jeans down her hips, Helga turned her back. Well, at least she was afforded that little bit of privacy.

Hvitserk and the large guard were standing outside when she and Helga finally reappeared. Hvitserk spoke to Helga, though he was looking at Nora. The cheerful expression was gone, and Nora found herself a little intimidated by the serious expression on his face. He wasn’t a large man, size wise, but he was taller than her.

He jerked his head in the direction they hadn’t come from and with the guard on them, they made their way down the hall. Walking out into the open was, blinding. Nora had spent so much time inside the past few days, the daylight was harsh on her unadjusted eyes. People around them were moving, packing things down, and Nora wondered why they were leaving when they had taken the place so easily. Was this a stop on the way to another place?

Helga directed her to a chariot with a young horse hitched to it. The creature snorted as they approached and Nora smiled at it, reaching out as they moved past to brush her hand along its cheek. It whinnied softly at her and she grinned. Hvitserk stopped by the back of the chariot and turned to face her. He grinned at her as he held up rope and a piece of cloth. What?

Nora froze, stopping Helga from pulling her forward near the front of the chariot. Hvitserk spoke to someone over her head and two large arms seized her. She growled and tried to fight as Helga stepped away, looking apologetic. They’d planned this right in front of her and her inability to understand meant she’d let them lull her into a false sense of freedom. Hvitserk stepped forward and bound her hands in front of her. She tried to fight, drawing the attention of those around them as she swore at Hvitserk.

He held up the strip of fabric once she was bound and tried to gag her with it. She tried to bite his hand, but it did little ground as the grip on her tightened and she tried to turn and hit the bastard holding her captive.

Hvitserk wrapped the fabric over her head, surprising her and effectively gagging her. It was bad enough she was hungry and thirsty. They wouldn’t understand sign language in this time, would they? She tried to think back to when she was younger and taught it. She was out of practice, so she’d probably end up confusing her gestures anyway.

Once she was gagged, Hvitserk grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the back of the chariot. He shoved her down into it. Looking up at him, Nora mumbled curses through the gag at him. He grinned at her, nodding before leaning against the side of the chariot, guarding her as they waited for whoever rode this to show up. 

Nora should’ve put two and two together. She should’ve realized that Ivar would be the owner of the chariot. His head appeared around the edge of the chariot after a while and Nora huffed, huddled into the front of the chariot, knees drawn up. She refused to acknowledge him, turning her eyes away.

He didn’t acknowledge her either as he pulled himself up into the chariot with a practiced ease. Nora could see him out of the corner of vision, but she didn’t tense, didn’t give any indication she was put off by him so close to her in what little space they had.

He dragged himself up onto the seat, taking the reins. It brought his thigh close to her head as he adjusted his legs beside her. This time, she did look up. He was glancing down at her, those cold blue eyes unreadable as they stared at one another. After a moment, he nodded at her and she turned her eyes to what was going on outside the back of the chariot. Where were they going?

[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {15}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to update this! I have a lot of WIPs going on at once. I promise to update this again this week, though! Anyway, enjoy! I mean...if you can...

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

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The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Lysandra rolled over to find Aedion watching her with tired eyes. She chuckled, quietly, before rolling herself on top of him and pressing her mouth to his.

“Good morning, husband.”

“Wife,” he mumbled, his deep voice raspy from sleep, his hands wandering down to her bare ass. 

“I like that name on your lips,” she mumbled, rocking herself against his hardened cock.

He groaned, and flipped her over. Her back hit the mattress as he hovered over her, as his lips trailed down the side of her neck. With her fingers tangling into his long, golden hair, Lysandra’s eyes drifted shut as she allowed her husband to explore her body.

Those beautiful, soft lips trailed down her shoulder and across her collarbone, down to her breasts where he worshiped her, slowly, with his tongue, his lips. She never opened her eyes, she let herself get lost in his touch, and his touch alone. Aedion was always so gentle, so delicate, while being fully confident in everything he did to her. He wanted her to know that she was respected, adored, that he didn’t want to be like all the assholes she was forced to be with throughout the years. He never wanted her to feel degraded. And yet, at the same time, he had to let her know just how wild, how completely barbaric she made him. 

As his lips trailed lower, he displayed just that. 

His mouth wandered between her legs, his head disappeared beneath the sheets. Lysandra gripped onto the pillows that surrounded her as he stroked her in an agonizingly slow pace between her folds. She let loose a breath as her back arched, as his tongue took its sweet time tasting her. 

“Is this how you’ll wake me up every morning?” Lysandra breathed.

Aedion hummed something against her sex that brought an entirely new sensation sweeping through her body. 

She took it as a yes, and remained silent as he worked his charm. Silent enough, anyway. She couldn’t help the sounds she made as he sucked on her clit and held her ass down firmly against the mattress to keep her from writhing. 

And when he leaned up and pushed his cock inside of her, Lysandra became undone, her voice unable to not be heard.

She didn’t care.

Let them hear. 

She let them hear her joy, her triumph, her peace in the fact that she had married a man who loved her, respected her, a man who she was so madly in love with that it made her feel invincible, even in the chaos that was their lives. 

~~~

Rowan hated having so many people in the house. He was on guard, even though it was broad daylight and plenty of innocent people were around. He liked to think that even Maeve had a slight inkling of morals inside of her, somewhere. 

Aelin was loving it. She was loving the florists and the decorators and the caterers spread throughout the estate. His beautiful, pregnant wife was a people person, and she had been secluded for too long. 

“The band will be showing up soon,” Aelin told him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He chuckled, and kissed her, softly.

“Can’t wait,” he lied, and when the doors to the ballroom opened, his hand went straight for his gun, out of habit, out of instinct. 

It was only Gavriel and Natalia, and it was the latter who was talking and the former who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world. He gave Rowan a pleading look, but Rowan only grinned. 

Gavriel had gotten himself into that mess and Rowan was having too much fun watching the outcome to help him out of it. 

“I wish you’d calm down,” Aelin said, quietly, running her hands down his forearms. “There’s going to be so many people here, Ro. And it actually feels normal for once. Haven’t you missed being normal?” 

Rowan snorted. “When have our lives ever been normal?”

“Normal for us,” Aelin clarified.  

“You should really be taking it easy, you know,” Rowan mumbled, cupping her face in his hands. “That baby needs to eat at some point. And rest. Maybe you should, you know, eat then rest instead of running around like a madwoman.” 

“Calling me a madwoman only makes me crazier,” she said, pressing her lips to his before fluttering off, yet again.

He watched her go, smiling fondly after her. She didn’t take his advice, whatsoever. For the rest of the afternoon, all she did was make sure the estate was in pristine condition. 

At least someone was doing it, he supposed.

He certainly didn’t want the job. 

Lorcan seemed to be doing well. Rowan thought that even he was excited to be around a crowd again - and Lorcan hated crowds nearly as much as Rowan did. Elide loved crowds though, loved people, loved parties. Maybe the event reminded him of her. Maybe he was channeling her energy. 

Even Rowan had to admit the sight of him chasing Lucy around the ballroom and through the halls was a sight to behold. 

Elide would be proud.

By the time guests began to arrive, Rowan was dressed in his finest suit, per his wife’s request, and greeting each of them as they came in, encouraging them all to donate to the building of the new library, which he would also be doing.

Gavriel was the one who was truly good at talking to strangers. Rowan tended to scare most of them, Lorcan more so, and Fenrys was keeping himself hidden in the corner. Vaughan was good at smiling, and nodding thanks to those who came into the door, but it was Gavriel who had a true way with words, a warm welcoming. 

It was because of that that Rowan made him stay close to the entryway.

His warm demeanor, and the fact that he could pick out a traitor, a fake, instantly, and had a great shot. 

“You need to relax,” Aelin whispered into Rowan’s ear, when it was clear he was tense. “You said tonight was safe, and if everyone else sees you uneasy, they’re going to panic.”

Rowan nodded, but didn’t say a thing. All day all he could think about, the second people began to stream through the door, was that this was a mistake.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, though. Natalia floated around Gavriel with a drink in her hand, even though she never actually said a word to him, allowing him to do his job. Lorcan walked around with Lucy in his arms, showing her off to every swooning woman that looked his way. Lorcan may not have been good with people, but Lucy was a definite conversation starter in her little, red frilly dress. Vaughan was walking around the room, silently thanking everyone for coming. Lysandra and Aedion were obsessed with the world now knowing they were man and wife, and had already told the story of their wedding a hundred times. 

Although Fenrys lingered in the corner, his foot tapped along with the beat of the band. 

“Ro.” His eyes snapped down to Aelin, who was frowning. “You’re worrying me.” 

“Why?” he asked, then forced a smile. “Go have fun, A. Enjoy your time. I’m alright, alright?”

Her smile was uncertain, but she nodded, nonetheless. After finding Lysandra and dragging her friend onto the dance floor, Rowan went to check all the posts, to make sure everything was secure. 

~~~~

Aelin was exhausted. 

Being pregnant and socializing with people for hours on end did not collide well. By the time ten rolled around, she was ready to be in her comfy clothes, in bed.

It seemed that Lucy thought the same, as she was sound asleep on Lorcan’s shoulder.

“Want me to bring her up with me?” Aelin asked, stifling her yawn. “Natalia’s drunk off her ass and I’m exhausted.” 

Lorcan chuckled and looked around at the still bustling party. “Yeah, that’d be great.” 

Aelin smiled as she took Lucy from Lorcan’s arms. The toddler barely stirred as she settled against Aelin, her cheek resting on her aunt’s shoulder. After telling everyone goodnight, Aelin was walking up the stairs with a snoozing Lucy. 

After getting into Lorcan’s bedroom, Aelin dug up a little nightgown and helped an exhausted Lucy into it before sitting in the corner rocking chair for a moment to help her settle back down. Once she was sleeping soundly with her mouth hanging open, Aelin carried her to her crib and laid her down. For a moment, she looked at the toddler, admiring the little miracle. She looked so much like her father, but so many things about Lucy reminded her of Elide. Her wild nature, her curiosity, her beautiful smile. Aelin missed her friend, missed the girl she had grown up with, but she was so grateful to have Lucy, someone Aelin could watch grow up, someone to remind Aelin everyday of the young life that was lost too soon. 

She kissed the toddler’s forehead before settling onto Lorcan’s bed. With all the people downstairs, Aelin thought it best to stay close. Surprisingly, Lorcan’s bed smelled pretty good. It was definitely comfortable. With a yawn, Aelin closed her eyes and settled into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

The next time she opened her eyes, though, she was met with a knife at her throat and malicious, violet eyes staring back at her in the darkness. 

~~~~~

Lorcan was exhausted by the time the workers were breaking down the decor. They had raised a ton of money for the library, which was a good thing, but Lorcan could have done without the endless conversing with other people. Elide had always been the people person, not him. 

As he padded up the stairs, all he wanted was to fall into his bed and sleep for days. With a yawn, he stumbled through his doorway, and strutted to the little hall in between his bedroom and Natalia’s that she shared with Lucy. 

He was only a few feet away from the crib when he stilled. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, thought the darkness was messing with his mind. Then he took another step closer, and another, and another, until his fingers were gripping the side of the crib and his knuckles were turning white.

A panic began to rise in the pit of his stomach when the realization hit him.

The crib was empty. 

He looked around as if Lucy had climbed out of her crib and began to discover the excitement of the room. As if she could have been hiding, Lorcan began to tear the room apart. Books fell to the ground, pillows flew across the room, everything inside of Natalia’s wardrobe was thrown out.

Lucy was nowhere,

“Lucille!” he yelled, knowing full well that his voice was full of terror. A thousand different scenarios ran through his mind, all with a different outcome, all unimaginable. “Lucy!” 

With Natalia’s room a mess, he found nothing, and he was just about to tear the rest of the estate apart when he threw open the door.

Rowan stood there, his eyes wide. 

Locan’s chest was heaving as he met his friend’s stare. 

“Aelin’s gone,” Rowan whispered, holding up a note. The pristine cursive was all too familiar. “And she has Lucy, too.” 

~~~~

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