#「 YOU DARE BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS YOU ？」 － the lady & six

[lurxof--thxmaw]

🎵

Send “🎵“ and I’ll reply with a song that’s related to my muse and I’ll explain why

ON ANOTHER OCEAN － Fleeting Foxes

Oh, this song. This song is so Lady and Six core. This is the song that inspired Seafarers ((although the fic is named after another beautiful song that always makes me think of them as well)) and my go-to when I need to get into that Six & Lady feel. If I had to pick a song to make a LN animatic to, it'd be this one.

The context of the song itself relates to various themes. Running away from responsabilities, the struggles that come with opening up to new people, not trusting anyone, being afraid of judgement -- so on. It also has tons of very nice eye imagery. It's a beautifully written and executed song, I beg you to go listen to it and then come back to this post.

I interpret the first half of the song to be applicable to both of them, with lines such as 《 Biding your time on another ocean, falling into line in the cold and dim 》 reminding me of the Maw and them both adhering to their respective roles in its sustainance. "Biding your time" is an expression I particularly love because it means waiting for something: the Lady waiting for Six to come find her. That's what the ticking clock in her room is, at the end of the day, isn't it? In the context of Seafarers, I named the first chapter after this line because the Lady is waiting for Six to kill her -- which eventually doesn't end up happening.

^^ ((《 Was [s]he not quite as you had conceived [her]? 》; this line will also apply to Six later on, when she realizes that the Lady is much closer to her in nature than she is to the other monsters and it deeply unnerves her. 《 Did the colors of the light hide the fire in the eyes? 》 also applies to this context as the Lady did not expect Six to rebel to the cycle [and later on to her] and gets angry at her for it. During the same instance, Six also finds herself afraid of the Lady's sudden display of emotion because up to a few seconds ago, the Lady was going to give up, but now she -- much like her -- is reactig driven by survival instinct. Most importantly, this is the first time Six sees a slither of humanity in an adult and the fact that it's so close to her own, again, destabilises her. Everything they do is completely unexpected for the other and as much as they wish it was incomprehensible, they always find points that ties them to the other and it stings.))

The two lines preceeding the chorus, 《 Wherever you run, you see all you leave behind you/you see only eyes behind you 》 is again applicable to both of them, and how they literally and figuratively cut their pasts away from their current selves, and yet it always finds a way to catch up to them one way or another. And of course, the more literal eyes they live under, always watching them.

The titular "other ocean" in this context is each other. They are the other ocean the other can't seem to open up to. Something that is so foreign and yet so familiar.

The second verse of the song is more easily divided into Lady and Six bits. I see it as a conversation between each other and reflections on themselves. The first verse is VERY Lady talking to Six as it states:

《 So, do you think the smoke won't enfold you? 》, referring of course to the ending of LN I, but also to the fate that has bestowed the Lady and the ones before her. To the madame, Six's refusal to go through with her fate is the uncomfortable demonstration that she too had that same power. And instead she just chose to follow it because it was easier. The Lady wouldn't give up her position for anything in the world, but even then, this freedom Six has makes her incredibly angry. She is convinced that eventually all this will catch up go Six. It continues with, 《 Or there'll be someone waiting for you, out in the distance then? 》, which is meant to be a derision as the Lady and Six both know that there is no one and nothing waiting for Six off the Maw. No place can ever provide the comfort and safety the Maw does. Whatever is out there will be infinitely worse. There is no certainty, no guarantee that she will live: nothing at all. Six is completely alone and defenseless anywhere that is not the Maw.

The next verse is from Six's perspective. It is a plead, sort of, but also an acknowledgement.

《 If only anything could change you.》 This line resonated very strongly with me while writing because I think it encapsulates the feeling of "child acting like an adult and adult acting like a child" perfectly. In the context of Seafarers, the Lady is essentially throwing a very elegant tantrum. On the other hand, Six is reflecting. Her plan is to escape the Maw, yes, and to do that she needs to study a way out. Doing so causes her to inevitably come to "know" the Lady and, while their similarities cause her to be incredibly uncomfortable and upset, it also creates an inexplicable feeling of kinship.

Wanting to be understood is human. And Six is a nine year old girl who has lived through the unimaginable. None of her peers has gone through what she has. But the Lady did. Out of everyone, she is the only one who could ever understand Six. If only they could see eye to eye. Six is young, she doesn't know how to put this feeling to words and even if she did, she doesn't want to admit it as she knows it will be immediately rejected: it's frustrating as it is sad. 《 If only you knew what you claim to, if only every sign you cling to -- if only they were so. 》

I find the 《 And I won't bleed out if I know me 》 line to be incredibly Ladycore because... the Lady doesn't know herself. And she will bleed out eventually because of it.

The 《 Don't deny me! 》 comes from both ends. Six asks for the Lady to not deny her (by extension, her own past self she sees in her, as well as the yellow raincoat they both used to share), and the Lady orders Six not to deny their shared fate and the legacy of the Lady of the Maw.

The 《 I will lead it in the morning, I won't even if I know it 》 is Six eventually trying to come to terms with her future once the Lady is gone. A part of her has been irrequivocably changed from the experience (( 《 You [Six] ended up too strained 》 )) but it doesn't change the fact that she doesn't want to be on the Maw. She doesn't want to be the next Lady. Even if she was to try like her predecessor tried to manipulate her into, she would still crave freedom. She would always look for somewhere else to go.

On one hand, she has her duties and responsibilities towards the children of the Maw; on the other, herself. She has to let go of one to let the other survive. And suddenly she is in the Lady's shoes, back when she was still named Five. The intentions of the two are very different though: while Six wants to look out for her peers, Five only cared about her own protection. But the outcome might still be the same; at the end of her journey, Six might no longer be Six.

《 We're in the eye sometimes. Too young... too young... 》

[thatnerdwolfnell]

Pocky challenge: MC x Main six

The Pocky game is a party game played withPocky, a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pockybetween them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss.

^coppied from google.

Ohohoho. Yes. Thank you. I love you. This would have been done yesterday, but I was a dumb bastard and I ran out of my meds so I was busy feeling like general shit. Sidenote: me and my uni friends used to do this with gummy bears before Covid because we have no shame I guess? Idk.

Pocky game Mc and Main 6

Asra:

He loves it. Even when you kiss him regularly he still loves the thrill and challenge of the game.

He has a bit of a competitive streak so if he has to he will full on kiss you and suck the slimy ass pocky out of your mouth. (I'm sorry for that image)

When he pulls out some strawberry pocky hes already got that cheeky knifecat smirk on his face.

He rattles the box a bit specifically to draw your attention

He gets that dark heavy sparkle in his eyes as he puts the strawberry end between his lips and just looks at you, completely still.

You try to hide your smile, you love when he gets like this.

Asra has a thing for games.

You shift over on the couch enough that you can take the end of end of the pocky in your teeth.

He leans in to take another bite and steadies you with an unexpected hand sliding up from the small of your back.

you raise an eyebrow

The corner of his mouth twitches up into a grin.

he takes a deep breath and holds it as he inches closer. He somehow has nibbling the pocky within millimeters down to a practiced skill and he always holds his breath when he starts getting close. It's a focus thing and probably to keep from moving too much. You can tell he expects to win.

You lace a hand through his hair gently anchoring at the nape of his neck, and bite off most of your end

He blinks in surprise and finally lets out his breath slow enough that it catches in his throat and sends goosebumps down your spine.

His face is so warm next to yours. You can hear his heartbeat, quick and shallow in his chest.

"Gib ub yet?" You ask. There's not much left of the pocky but you know he won't stop.

He grins around the pocky.

The hand on your back slides to your waist. The other skims along your thigh and you gasp slightly.

He doesn't break eye contact. You let out a shaky breath as he nibbles just enough off to keep your lips from touching. If you moved you could easily kiss him.

He plays dirty. He likes teasing you. Waiting for your next move.

You kiss him hard and push him down onto the couch taking the whole last bit of the pocky in your mouth and crunching down.

He tilts his head back and laughs his hair falling back into his face.

"mm I think you cheated" he smirks and leans in to kiss along your jaw

"So did you." You say. You grab another pocky and smooth his hair away from his face before you push off.

Nadia:

Well Nadia isn't really one for party games but she IS one for food. (I think we have a couple different canon scenes I could use as evidence here)

She's never heard of it but she's intrigued.

It's after dinner and you're both still at the table. This isn't something she would ever do in public

"If you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask...but if you'd rather earn it that can be arranged"

She takes a pocky and gently feeds the end in your mouth.

"If you drop it you'll have to earn my kisses some other way. And I'll be sure to make it a very long night."

She smiles sweetly with just a hint of a smirk and your heart skips a beat.

The way she looks at you with so much reverence, like you're one of her intricate, beautiful machines and she'll take you apart piece by piece just to understand every part.

She starts eating her end and you do the same. She somehow looks elegant with her lips pressed around the pocky and the heat of her breath condensing against the chocolate.

She pauses at the very last bit and let's you close the gap. Her lipstick tastes sweet and floral.

You deepen the kiss and run a hand along her shoulder.

She grabs you by the waist and leans you back against the table in one smooth movement without breaking the kiss.

One hand pins your wrist against the wood above your head while the other is still wrapped around your waist under your back so that it arches slightly.

"I didn't say you could do that, MC." There's amusement in her voice that draws in a low whisper.

She gently caresses down your neck stopping in the middle of your chest. "But I don't want to wait."

She kisses you and you kiss back letting your hands wander through her hair while she presses down over you.

"that's good, love. We should do this more often."

Julian:

He suggests it at the rowdy raven one night. A game he picked up in his pirate days.

"Come on, who's down for a little fun? Make the party more interesting."

Nadia rolls her eyes.

Portia immediately looks at you and pointedly tilts her head at Julian, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively.

You blush a little. You're about to volunteer to play when Lucio steps in.

"I'm up for the challenge. Give you a chance to get near my lips, hey Jules?"

If Julian is disappointed, he doesn't show it. He just grins and pulls out a pocky. "Alright that's the spirit!"

They move down the pocky rather fast and it's clearly a competition. Neither hesitates before meeting in the middle. Julian pulls of with a dramatic peck before pulling away just as fast.

"Anybody else?"

"I'll go!" You take your chance a little too quickly and you see Portia smile in the corner of your eye.

Ah MC. Perfect!" He seems surprised. Maybe a little flustered.

You take a pocky in your mouth and offer him the other end.

He blushes and leans in to start chipping at the biscuit.

He smells like salt and leather. You can feel his heartbeat in his lips moving the stick.

You lean in further, resting a hand on his knee as if for balance. He stiffens but you can see his smirk grow wider.

You both hesitate at the last little piece, caught in the moment of closeness. You start to move to take it and kiss him but he pulls away before you do.

You look at him startled. He's bright red and flustered.

"Ah. um MC I- I didn't think you were going to-"

He's been doing this. Avoiding you when he knows you both want it. You've had enough of that.

"Did you want to?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Kiss me. Did you want to?"

You hold him under your gaze and his eyes soften into something like longing. Or guilt. Or hunger.

"...yes." he says it simply and quietly. Like the only true thing he can find in a single soft word.

And you kiss him. You feel him melt into the kiss and he's kissing you back.

You hold his face in your hands and he pulls you in closer.

You can feel how much he wants this. Like water in the desert. His brow is furrowed in desperation. You break away.

The hurt in his eyes is obvious and you brush his hair out of his face rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"Hey," you look him in the eyes and try to convey everything in that look. "I'm not going anywhere, you get that?"He nods.

"We can have this all the time." You say.

His eyes wander down your body. "All the time..." He repeats softly.

You kiss him again, much gentler this time. He pulls you in and you feel like THIS is how things were always supposed to be. And this is the life you want to have. With Julian and your friends, and everything right in the world.

Muriel :

He is a blushy boy. But he's been approaching things like this with curiosity, and maybe even wonder, even if it can be hard to tell.

He never refuses a touch or a kiss, and for a while you weren't sure he knew he COULD refuse.

You don't want to make him uncomfortable and you were worried he just tolerated it for your sake.

While he's been getting better, he still lacks awareness of what he wants and likes. You've been helping him figure out his boundaries after years of having them constantly violated and convincing himself that it doesn't matter.

When you told him he seemed surprised. "No, I like it, MC. I always like it." He made it clear that he would say no if he was uncomfortable, "like with cantaloupe or bananas." He said.

(Not eating foods he didn't like had been game changer. A lot of textures bother him.)

Since then he's been making more of an effort to initiate and touch has become something of communication for him.

Hand squeezes for comfort, an arm barring you from accidentally stepping in a rabbit hole, a touch on the shoulder to say "be careful", a nudge to say "look at this", a nuzzle into your neck to say "I love you"

It's just easier than talking. It's how he's always talked to Asra amd Inanna despite the telepathy.

But this is something different.

"But...why?" He asks as you take a pocky from the box. He's already blushing like crazy.

"Because it's fun." You say and you put the end in your mouth.

He frowns but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

He takes a small bite off the end and leans back chewing it curiously.

You laugh. "No, you're supposed to keep going and we hold on until we get to the middle."

"Oh." He leans back in and starts eating away at his end. He looks at you for confirmation, a look of confusion on his face.

You smile and inch closer.

He's bright red and you can feel the heat from his face and his heartbeat, strong and fast.

You both pause at the last bit, daring the other to make a move.

His green eyes are bright and sharp as they lock with yours for just a glance.

Then he closes the gap kissing you gently. Eyes closed, taking the last bit before moving away.

A hand rests on your waist and the other on your shoulder.

"Sorry, did you want the last bit?" You think he's teasing you, but the alarm in his eyes say he's completely serious.

You laugh "no, of course not. I just wanted to kiss you."

He smiles and pulls you into his arms. "I know. But I thought you still... might have wanted it." He shrugs.

He looks down at you and you feel his heart skip. "You could still taste it. ...if you wanted to that is."

What? His mouth twitches up into a slight smirk.

OH.

You kiss him for real this time. And you both end up on the floor of the hut laughing.

You kiss him again.

And he kisses you.

Again and again and again.

Portia:

Yeah she's definitely played before.

Something about the kitchen staff at the last masquerade?

Anyway the rowdy raven has gotten, well, rowdy.

Julian brought the pocky and there's enough overly competitive people in the room that there's been a few kisses.

Portia grabs the box from brother and shakes it teasingly in your direction.

"MC!" She winks. "How about it?"

Her face is flushed from Mazelinka's sangria that she snuck in (which you're pretty sure is actually just pure liquor) but Portia can hold her drink despite going red rather quickly.

You grin. "If you think you're up for it."

You get up and sit down next to her and move a piece of hair off her shoulder, resting your hand there longer than you need to.

She's beautiful when she's smiling like this, having fun.

You can't help a bit of a smile when she leans into your hand slightly while she takes out a pocky.

While you're distracted, she suddenly pokes the end into your mouth making you jump back in surprise.

"Mm hey!"

She just laughs leaning back in the booth letting her giggles fade with a snort.

"Don't drop it!" She says between laughs.

"I'b not!" The pocky is still hanging from your mouth and you wiggle it around for emphasis.

She leans forward and takes the other end in her mouth.

Her eyes sparkle and suddenly she's reaching her arms around your waist pulling you in closer

Your eyes widen and she smirks. You feel the exhale of a silent laugh on your skin.

You're so close and she's so warm. Your heart is pounding.

There isn't much left of the stick and you're not sure if–

Oh.

You didn't mean to but now your lips are together and they're warm and solid and everything seems to explode at once.

The last bit of pocky falls to the ground as you gasp.

She frowns slightly when you pull away, but she still has that self-satisfied expression.

You lean in again and lift your hand towards her face. Hesitating. Waiting for permission.

But then she gives you a look through her lashes. She glances again at your lips.

You tilt your head as you lean in and close your eyes, cradling her face in your hand and letting the other press against her waist.

She moves closer and you can feel her chest pressing against yours.

You pull her tighter and she makes a small delighted noise between a laugh and a gasp.

"Oh. I love this." You say between kisses.

She grins. "This'll be an adventure, hey?"

Lucio:

He sets the box of pocky on the table in front of you.

"You've heard of the pocky game right?"

You nod, unsure of where this is going. Normally Lucio is pretty straightforward about kissing you.

"Well how about a little wager? If you win I'll get you whatever the hell you want, a whole shopping spree of the finest jewels, clothes, whatever."

You nod again. "Alright and if you win?"

He shifts uncomfortably wringing his hands. "Well, if I win.... youhavetotakeCamiotohisvetcheckup."

You sigh. Oh god. So that's what this was about. Camio HATED the vet. That rascal of a bird would be screeching insults the whole time.

You could see why Lucio was trying to get out of it.

You love that little shit, but damn he could be annoying. He's the kind of bird that will hold a grudge for about a week, and he does not take vet trips lightly.

"Please?" Says Lucio, "and if we meet in the middle we go together."

"You realize that I could just say no and make you do it yourself, right?"

"But you're not going to because I'm your boyfriend and you love me?"

You frown.

"Okay but then you wouldn't get to kiss me. Plus Camio likes you more, he'll be nicer with you there."

You pause considering. It WOULD be good to have a buffer instead of leaving the poor vet with Camio and Lucio by themselves.

"Fine, but ONLY if you win, remember?"

"YES!" he eagerly grabs a pocky and sticks one end in his mouth.

You take the other end and start chewing as fast as you can.

He takes a moment to get his bearings and catch up but once he does you're both at the very end right before the middle.

Neither of you want to move, both trying to avoid the task.

You try to get him to back down by inching a little closer, but he stays put.

He moves the tiniest bit.

And then you kiss.

fuck.

"YES!" He shouts, jumping back in triumph.

"You have to come too, still." You say.

Yeah but i won't mind if you're there."

You sigh and lean back.

"Oh come on don't look like that. We'll do a half shopping spree. That seems more fair anyway. I get half a win, you get half a win."

You laugh. "Alright, alright. Where is that stupid bird anyway?"

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

The Answer

Requested by: anonymous (“Congrats on reaching over 2.5k followers! I was wondering if I could request something with Joe trying to talk the reader out of doing something stupid, but in a funny way?”)

Summary: When Valentine’s Day turns unexpectedly stressful, your favorite coworker Joe Mazzello is there to offer moral support. I may have gotten a little carried away with this one, but it’s all in the spirit of the holiday! 😂 I hope you enjoy it. 💗

Warnings: Language. 

Word Count: 2.2k. 

You can find all my writing here!

Oh my god, this man is about to ask me to marry him.

You are suddenly aware of every immaterial detail, because this is the sort of night you’re supposed to remember forever. This is the sort of night, the sort of story, you’ll be retelling all your life: to parents, to friends, to overly-chatty hairstylists, to coworkers, to children, to grandchildren. The music is slow, sophisticated, French. The dress you’re wearing is lavender and just a stitch too tight in the ribs. The tablecloth is white, the flowers in the centerpiece ruby-red roses. The candlelight bathes Ryan’s face in hot, flickering gold. And he’s smiling, broadly, artfully, like he knows something you don’t. Like maybe he always will.

You’re trying to follow what he’s talking about, but you can’t. It’s some meandering summation of your last two years together: meeting at your mutual friend Sarah’s New Year’s Eve party, numbers tapped into each other’s iPhones, sushi and green tea, browsing through book stores, murky movie theaters and hands entwining on shared armrests, Fourth of July picnics where you socialized gamely with one another’s extended families, kisses that started out light and fleeting in the chilly lobbies of restaurants like this one and turned into hours spent in the rustling shadows of your bedroom. And although the details sometimes evade you, the arc of Ryan’s story is clear: that the journey was perfectly linear, every piece in place, every want and ritual accounted for. That the time has come for the inevitable conclusion.

He reaches across the table to take your hands in his. The last of your beef bourguignon lays unclaimed and forgotten in its bowl. Your appetite has vanished entirely.

“Pierre,” Ryan tells the moustached waiter, grinning triumphantly. “Could you bring out dessert now, please?”

You hear your chair squeal as you bolt to your feet. Your ankles wobble as you balance on your strappy, rather painful silver heels, the ones Ryan likes so much. “I’ll be right back,” you announce. You flash him a reassuring, innocent smile. You gesture apologetically to the wine and water glasses, like it’s all their fault. The perfect fall guys. How dare they interrupt this magical evening.

Ryan suspects nothing. Or—worse, far far worse—he doesn’t care. “Sure, baby. Take your time.”

You zigzag, rather unsteadily, around the restaurant tables—all those other nameless candle-lit couples reminiscing and giggling and feeding each other spoonfuls of quivering chocolate mousse—and crash through the restroom door. There are two college-aged girls touching up their makeup, stark and bone-white under the florescent lights, and they peer quizzically over at you. You take shelter in the nearest stall and lock the door.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” You stare at the wall, waiting for a sign. There’s an artsy black-and-white picture of the Eiffel Tower hanging there. Another trivial detail to one day tell your grandchildren about. “Oh my god,” you moan again.

You root through your purse, pull out your iPhone, and find Joe Mazzello in your contacts. You’ve never called him before; you have his number solely in case of work-related emergencies. But your fingers are moving swiftly, almost autonomically; and time is rolling irrevocably forward like a freight train.

“This is clearly a pocket dial,” Joe says as soon as he answers. “There’s no way you’re thinking about me and my subpar sandwich-making abilities on Valentine’s Day.” He’s right about his sandwich skills; they’re honestly abysmal. He’s the worst employee at Quiznos. He always spills the honey mustard everywhere. You, on the other hand, take great pride in your consistently neat, uniform application of condiments. But, nevertheless, Joe is your favorite coworker. Your favorite coworker by a margin that ships could sail through like a drawbridge.

“Help,” you croak.

“Uh...?” Joe’s voice changes. He’s not exactly serious yet—you’re not really sure what a serious Joe Mazzello would even sound like—but he’s definitely apprehensive. “Are you locked in a trunk somewhere...?”

“Wait, no, sorry. I’m not being kidnapped. I’m at L’amour Vrai.”

“Oh, nice!” But he doesn’t sound that thrilled about it. “With Ryan, I’m assuming.”

“Yeah, therein lies the problem.”

Joe is confounded. “...Did he forget to bring you a massive teddy bear and a heart-shaped box of Ferrero Rocher, or...?”

“I think he’s going to ask me to marry him,” you say in a rush, breathlessly. “He’s been rambling about our relationship and being weird and sentimental all through dinner and I think dessert is going to be, like, a giant bowl of chocolate mousse with a ring hidden in the bottom or something and now I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“And you don’t even like chocolate mousse,” Joe notes.

“That’s not really the point, but yeah, true.”

“So what are you going to do?”

You don’t have an answer. You don’t even have threads of thoughts that could be woven into words. Because no matter how seamless and fated Ryan’s story of your relationship sounds, you feel that something is missing. You’ve always felt that way. And you’ve waited—patiently, undemandingly, faithfully—for that one last piece of surety to drop out of the sky and click into place for the past seven-hundred and forty-four days. You’ve waited for indelible magnetism, for that sensation of free-falling, for love; you’ve waited until you started to suspect those things didn’t exist at all except in fiction. But sometimes, just recently, you think you might be catching glimpses of them: in how Joe sends you a clandestine smirk when a customer is agonizing over whether they want cheddar or swiss, in how he invents new combinations of fountain drinks for you to taste and rank on a highly scientific ten-point scale (Cherry Coke-Dr. Pepper is the current champion at 8.5/10), in how he complains incessantly about having to close but will wipe down the same counter fifteen times while you count the money in the register so you don’t have to lock up alone. And those transitory glimpses are enough to show you exactly what a lifetime with Ryan would mean living without.

“You don’t want to say yes,” Joe realizes quietly. “You wouldn’t be freaking out and hyperventilating in the bathroom if you did.”

“I don’t think I can say no.”

Joe snorts. “Lady, this isn’t the sixteenth century. You’re not being traded to this guy for some cows or a military alliance or a duchy in Germany. You can always say no.”

“But we’re in the middle of this fancy restaurant and he’s got the staff in on it, and everyone is going to stare when he asks me, they’ll probably start clapping and making TikToks and I’m going to look like a total bitch if I don’t say yes.”

“Well, yeah,” Joe says, a little darkly. “That was probably the plan. To put you in a position where you felt like you didn’t have a choice.” And you recall that Joe doesn’t seem to like Ryan very much, hasn’t said a single nice thing about him in the six months that have passed since Joe joined the illustrious Quiznos team.

“Maybe I should say yes and then after tonight never speak to him again.”

“You’re...gonna ghost your fiancé? You legitimately think that’s a better plan?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s only going to get harder to back out as this thing picks up momentum. The families will get involved. There will be dress fittings, venue shopping, cake tasting...oh, wait, actually, don’t back out until after the cake tasting. And invite me.”

“I could fake my own death. Or enlist in the Peace Corps. I’ve always wanted to see Mongolia.”

“But then you’d have to give up your promising career in sandwich making.”

“They might have Quiznos in Mongolia.” You sigh, defeated. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. I’m definitely ruining your Valentine’s Day.”

“There’s not much to ruin, honestly. I’m re-watching Tiger King and eating my weight in Skittles.”

Oh, right; Joe and his girlfriend Julie broke up last week. And come to think of it, despite the fact that you don’t have any identifiable reason to feel this way, you’ve never really liked Julie either. “I’ll gladly trade you.”

“I mean, sure, I fucking love chocolate mousse. My apartment is only three blocks away. I can hurry over there and put on your dress and heels and earrings or whatever you’re wearing, but I feel like Ryan might catch on.”

You laugh, your first real, involuntary, jolting laugh of the day. “Genius. Let’s do it.”

“You can say no,” Joe tells you, seriously now. This, as it turns out, is what a serious Joe Mazzello sounds like: warm, concerned, measured, his typically frenetic energy temporarily wrangled. “If he asks you to marry him and you want to say no, you can say no.”

“Okay,” you reply, taking a deep breath, resolved.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll say no.”

“Cool.” Joe sounds pleased; proud, even.

“Alright. I’m gonna go. Thanks, Joe. Seriously. Thank you so much.”

“No problem. You can mop up my next honey mustard spill as a show of gratitude.”

“Deal,” you say with a smile, and then you hang up.

Waiting for you back at the table is the moustached waiter cheerfully playing a violin, Ryan’s luminous grin, and a glass chalice full of chocolate mousse. Jesus christ. Chocolate fucking mousse.

Ryan motions for you to take a bite. You obediently sit down, pick up your spoon with a quaking hand, dip it into the center of the chocolate mousse...and lift out a diamond ring. You unleash a gasp of horror that Ryan mistakes for—or, perhaps, is determined to believe is—elation.

Ryan plucks the ring off your spoon, wipes it clean with a red cloth napkin, and slips out of his chair to kneel at your feet. Blood is pounding frantically in your ears. Your courage has evaporated. Your legs feel numb, jellylike, boneless. How the hell are you going to walk out of here after you say no? How the hell are you going to say no at all?

Ryan is reciting some generic, Hallmark-card speech. The other restaurant patrons are beaming, clapping, already assuming your answer. Ryan asks you the question. Your trembling hand is now resting at the base of your flushed throat like a noose. Your words are ghosts.

“I...” you sputter. “I...um...”

“Go ahead,” Ryan says, nodding, smooth and undaunted. And suddenly you know that Joe was right; every single part of this was planned. Ryan turns to the crowd. “Aw, folks, give her a hand, she’s shy!”

And as they cheer and whistle encouragingly, as Ryan waits for your acquiescence, as your hope for those things you’ve only caught glimpses of begins to wither like autumn leaves, someone steps between you and Ryan and fills up the hollow, hungry space left by your silence. It’s Joe.

“No no no,” he tells Ryan. His voice is ostensibly matter-of-fact and yet formidable. “She’s not shy. She’s just trying to figure out her answer. And she doesn’t need some random strangers in a French restaurant to help her out with that.” Joe looks at you and raises his eyebrows. “Go ahead. Whenever you’re ready.”

“What the...?!” Ryan exclaims, his eyes shifting from you to Joe. The other patrons are extremely bewildered. The waiter’s violin playing screeches to a halt.

“No,” you say, your courage flooding back in, a slow smile igniting across your face.

Ryan doesn’t understand. “No...?”

“No. My answer is no. The past two years have been nice, but this is over now. I’m not right for you, Ryan. You’re not right for me either. And I think you know that. So goodbye.”

You stand, sling your purse over your shoulder, and follow Joe out of L’amour Vrai; but not before you yank off your silver high heels and leave them there on the restaurant floor. The other guests are in scandalized uproar now. Ryan is still kneeling, furious and in shock. Outside it is bitingly cold and your breath turns to fog in the night air; the chilly concrete sidewalk soothes the aching soles of your feet.

Joe is ecstatic, his eyes gleaming under the streetlights as you walk together. “That was incredible! Did you see his face?! He totally thought he was going to be able to bully you into saying yes and you were not having it, you are a beast my dear, I hope some of those people put you on TikTok, I hope you get TikTok famous for being freaking awesome, then you can get rich and buy a mansion and let me live in the pool house and I’ll never have to work or suffer another honey-mustard-related catastrophe again—”

“Joe.” You stop him abruptly, resting a palm against his chest, gazing up at him beneath the cold stars. And after a moment he understands, and he kisses you. You catch more than a glimpse of those beautiful things you’d feared might not exist. They light up like the goddamn Eiffel Tower.

“I’ve wanted that for six months,” Joe says as he pulls away, softly, shakily, smiling almost shyly.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I think I have too.”

Joe takes your face in his hands and kisses you again. He tastes like heat and harmony and laughter and Skittles; but more than all of that, he tastes like love.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 3.6k 

Masterlist link here

AO3 Link here

Genre / Pairing: Romance, Akaashi / Reader

Summary: 

Loosely based on the anime filme ‘Your Name’, also known as Kimi No Nawa.

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears the echo of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.  

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

He is seventeen again. 

Practice is hard especially with his new captaincy, with first years to train and a mountain of paperwork to clear, but even as each jolt of the train home settles exhaustion further into his bones, he’s more concerned at the sustained silence from her. His phone is empty of her text messages - no funny stories, no silly jokes, no pictures of sun drenched flower fields - but he tells himself she’s fine, she’s probably occupied herself with something vaguely illegal that she’ll tell him later about and laugh away his disapproval.

He’s in the middle of dinner when his father turns on the television to watch the news. It’s just background noise, newscasters droning on about which dignitary is visiting Tokyo this week, how the stock markets are doing, when monsoon storms are forecasted to sweep across Japan, but his interest is piqued when the newscasters mention ‘the tragedy of latchkey kids - the death of a schoolgirl in a rural Hokkaido town’.

It can’t be, he thinks, swiveling around in his seat to stare at the screen. It can’t be, he thinks, in frozen shock, as the screen shows a familiar wooden house in flames, broadcast live on national TV. 

‘The police are investigating this tragedy as an unsolved murder -’

(It can) 

‘The victim was seventeen years old -’

(It is) 

‘Calling for any witnesses to step forward -’

(She’s dead) 

‘Keiji, what wrong?’ he faintly hears his mother ask, and he looks down. His chopsticks lie slack in his hand, the other hand clenched and trembling so hard he’s knocked his bowl over, rice spilling onto the dinner table. 

‘Sorry - I don’t feel so good’, he mutters, stumbling his way into the bathroom, his stomach retching at the horror tearing down his throat like acid. Even as he clutches the cold porcelain with shaking hands to empty his stomach of its contents, his gut burns from the realization that she’s gone - there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Wait a minute. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sprinting to his bedroom to snatch up his omamori, before bursting out of the door, deaf to his parents’ worried shouts. He doesn’t stop running, doesn’t even stop to take a breath until he’s leapt up all twenty six steps to the shrine where he first prayed to the gods to grant his wish for more time, a wish binding their souls together in a fated knot. 

(Except that’s not true anymore, because she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead - unless he can use their bind to twist fate and bring her back from the dead)

His hands are numb when he claps them together, his head spinning as he bows, fingers barely able to grasp as he scrawls another prayer on the ema, hanging the wooden plaque on the wishing tree. 

‘You’ve already upended my life by tangling it up with hers. Please - please  grant my wish and I’ll give up anything, including what’s dearest to me’, he silently pleads, closing his eyes in prayer. 

But the gods stay silent. The shrine remains still.

The shrine attendant chases him out when it’s closing time, and he fends off his parents’ concerned looks by feeding them a lie about forgetting to help one of his teammates with homework, shutting himself in the room.

But the problem is he can’t seem to fall asleep, not when the image of a white sheet draped over her cold body is branded into the back of his eyelids. Not when he can still hear the echo of her laughter as she teases him about his old fashioned book recommendations that she still ends up reading curled up under a tree. Not when his soul has traced the constellation on her back, the crescent dimple in her right cheek -

Damn it all - he needs to fall asleep to have any chance of waking up in her body in her yesterday or is it her today - he’s not sure, doesn’t dare look at the clock for fear of chasing sleep further away, why can’t he fall asleep - he’s done this countless times before, waking up in her body in her yesterday while she wakes up in his today which resets when he then wakes up in his own body tomorrow - 

Time flutters through his fingers like fallen petals scattering in the wind and he can tell from the growing sliver of light through his curtains that it’s almost daybreak - so he stumbles desperately into the bathroom to break into his mother’s medicine cabinet, swallowing twice the recommended dosage. It’s dangerous he knows, but he can’t bring himself to even think twice about it. 

A prayer is still on his lips when his eyes finally drift shut and sleep finally overtakes him. 

 He cracks his eyes open. 

Ah, he’s in her living room. She must have just reached home from school because the irori only emits thin ribbons of smoke, flames licking the kindling in the heath. But that doesn’t explain why he’s lying face down in the dust - 

Then a dull pain hits him. Copper pools in his mouth. Hot liquid drips down his forehead. 

He curses the gods for their sick sense of humour.

‘What are you doing here, Keiji?’ he hears her whimper. ‘You aren’t supposed to be here, he’s going to end up killing us both.’

‘Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. Tell me what happened’, he answers, trying his best to inject a commanding tone to cover up the fear seeping into his words. 

‘Hana-chan must have told her father I managed to get records of whatever awful shit he’s been doing to her, because he was waiting for me when I came home from school. I refused to give the recordings to him and tried to bite his hand and I guess he lost his temper…’

‘We need to have a conversation about your lack of self-preservation when we get out of this mess’ he points out, terror building up in his throat when he’s suddenly aware of the way his arms are twisted behind his back, cloth rope binding his wrists together in place. But before he can even try to struggle against the binds, he’s pinned in place by a knee on his back.  

‘Awake already, little girl? I would’ve thought you would stay asleep a little longer considering how much you bleed from a silly little smack on the head.’ Nakamura chuckles, threading his cold fingers into his hair, and with a swift flick of his wrist, slams his face back against the floor. 

Crack. 

Akaashi gasps for air, dazed at the pain that blooms across his face. 

‘You’re not as pretty as my little Hana-chan, but it would be a pity to smash your face in. So are you going to tell me where you’ve hidden your dirty little recordings, little thief?’ Nakamura coos, and Akaashi can feel the hair at the back of his neck rise in alarm. 

‘Don’t give in to him’, she shrieks, her panic echoing in his mind. But Akaashi’s in the driver’s seat this time, and he’ll be damned if he lets her die on his watch - not when he already knows the pain of losing her once before.   

Think, Akaashi. You have a brain, think!

‘It’s on my phone in my bedroom’, he mumbles thickly, keeping his voice weak. ‘You can go get it yourself.’ 

Nakamura relinquishes his grasp on his hair, brushing the dirt from his pants onto him. ‘I’m glad you have some sense at least, little lady. But if I find you’ve been wasting my time, I’ll make sure no one even recognises your face by the time I’m done with you’. 

Akaashi waits for his footsteps to fade.

Then he rolls his body across the flow, tipping himself straight into the irori. This probably ranks as one of the most reckless things he’s ever done in his entire life, but it’s not as if he has many options with both his hands and feet bound. It’s also possible he’s been infected by her particular strain of insanity. It’s the only way he can think of to break loose from his bonds, using the flames to singe through the rope binds, but it hurts to place naked flame directly on bare flesh, blisters forming and popping and he bites down on his lip so hard it bleeds because oh gods it hurts, it hurts, it hurts – 

Thank the gods it works, he’s able to wriggle free - not a moment too soon because he can hear the door to her bedroom crash open. Between the daze from the concussion and blood loss, he’s not going to be able to outrun Nakamura to get to safety, especially not when he’s in her body, what the hell is he going to do – 

‘Store room’, he hears her gasp. 

He grits his teeth as he crawls out of the heath, mentally calculating the distance to the back of the kitchen, divided by the blistering pain in his hands and feet. 

’Move, Keiji!’ She shrieks, the thud of heavy footfalls resounding through the house ominously. 

Adrenaline and terror floods his blood. It’s barely enough to fuel his sprint to the storeroom. He doesn’t dare to look back when Nakamura snarls - ‘what the fuck are you doing, you piece of shit’, only stops to breathe when the lock clicks in place. But he doesn’t get a moment’s reprieve, the door shuddering with the weight of a deranged man’s rage. 

‘It would be easy for me to burn the house down with you in it. No one would question any foul play if a wooden house goes up in flames. Or would you prefer it if I wait for little Toya-chan to get home and bash his little head in? It’s your choice, bitch.’ 

‘What should we do?’ he asks her desperately. 

‘You’re going to think I’m crazy... ’ 

‘Let’s not waste time on foregone conclusions, thanks.’

‘Right. Remember how I told you fire is life?’

 It’s a testament to how well he knows her that he knows exactly what she means. ‘You’ve got to be joking.’ He breathes, horrified. 

‘Do you have any other ideas?’ she retorts.

But she’s right, they’re essentially stranded on a flaming shipwreck, there’s nowhere else for them to run. Cursing the gods over and over again for their twisted sense of humour, Akaashi scrabbles around the store room, grabbing the ingredients to light this powder keg of an escape plan. 

‘Ready?’ 

‘Ready when you are.’ 

‘Okay’ he says, taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to keep his anxiety at bay. ‘Okay’ he repeats, loud enough for Nakamura to hear him through the door. ‘I’ll unlock the door if you leave Toya alone’. 

‘Smart girl.’ He can hear the menacing chill in the older man’s voice, but there’s no time to second guess his decision as he unlocks the door. He lets Nakamura make the first move, lets him yank the door open, and with the benefit of years of setting experience (thank you, Bokuto-san), he flicks his wrist to send a perfect arc of an entire bottle’s worth of liquid petrol splattering against Nakamura’s front. 

‘Stand back or I’ll set you on fire’ he threatens, holding her ridiculous pink lighter like a weapon as Nakamura splutters in shock. 

But the man only shakes off his surprise with a menacing laugh, slowly straightening into his full height, leaning against the door. ‘You don’t have it in you, little girl, you’re just like my Hana-chan. She used to put up a fight, always trying to scratch my eyes out but now she’s learnt that little girls should be good and docile - ‘

He can feel the brewing firestorm of rage from her. It’s not unwarranted, not when he’s seen through her eyes the abuse Hana’s suffered at his hands and in a spurt of impulsivity that shocks even himself, he surges forward to grab the man’s shirt, the naked flame from the lighter mere millimeters away from his face. ‘How dare you, disgusting pig - she’s your flesh and blood’, he spits.

Nakamura grins, deranged. ‘Exactly. She’s mine to use, and you’re going to regret ever trying to get in my way.’ He slams his head against Akaashi’s already broken nose (or rather - her nose) and  - oh gods pain bursts across his face and he trips, falling onto his back. Nakamura doesn’t waste any time, climbing on top of him, fingers digging into his throat. 

‘Let go of me’, he rasps, his vision starting to blur. Nakamura only tightens his grip, nails digging into the tender flesh of his neck.

But even with air being choked out of his lungs, her refrain ‘fire is life’ smolders in his mind. The gods must feel some pity for him today because Nakamura is so intent on going for his throat that he’s left his hands unchecked, so he closes his eyes in prayer and desperation, twisting his face as far away from his target as possible and presses his thumb on the lever on her lighter -

Everything goes up in flames. 

Nakamura screams, stumbling away, and the sound should spark a sense of cruel satisfaction if blinding pain exploding in his face weren’t a more immediate concern. There’s fire everywhere, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts -  but he already knows what hell feels like, this is nothing compared to the nightmare of her dying, so he gathers the last of his strength to fight against the ash suffocating the oxygen from his lungs, stumbles out of the backdoor to drop and roll in the mud until the flames on his clothes recede. 

He’s alive. She’ll survive. 

But it's at a high cost - the white hot pain of blistering burns all over his - well, her body slamming into him like a freight train when adrenaline recedes. Gasping in pain, he welcomes the gathering darkness at the edges of his vision. He tries not to think of the survival rate of burn victims, nor the risk of infection should medical treatment not be administered soon enough - this is as far as he can possibly go. He lies on his back, completely depleted. 

The grass rustles. The wind blows. 

Toya stands over him, eyes wide. ‘Nee-chan, what’s going on?’

Oh. Thank the gods. 

‘Toya. You have to run and get help, ok?’ he manages to rasp before darkness finally devours him, swallows him whole. 

He opens his eyes and finds himself back in the forest shrine. 

It takes him a split second to gather his bearings before he leaps to his feet, his lungs still burning from the taint of smoke, his mouth still acrid with the bitter taste of ash, and he doesn’t know if either of them are alive or heaven forbid - if he failed and she’s dead – 

‘Keiji, you idiot!’ He hears her shriek as he’s tackled from behind, crashing face first into the forest floor. 

He’ll thank the gods again and again for the rest of his life because -she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive - 

She throws herself into his lap, crying as she beats her fists against his chest. ‘You fool! You dummy! You scold me for being reckless, but what if you died when your soul was stuck in my body –‘  

‘You’re alive’, he breathes in disbelief, cupping her face in his shaking hands, letting the warmth from her cheeks bleed into his skin. 

She flushes, burying her head into the crook of his neck. ‘You’re not getting out of being scolded but yes, I think so’, she mumbles, her words muffled. 

 His heart grows cold. ‘What do you mean you think so?’ 

‘Where we are isn’t real - is it?’ 

She motions for him to be silent, to listen. There's the faint beeping of a hospital monitor, barely discernible over the whispering of leaves. ‘I think we’re in my mind for now. Or my consciousness, I’m not sure. I woke up to a bright light that beckoned me to follow it, but I saw you lying here and wanted to wait for you.’ 

Fear grips his heart, the spectre of black smoke and white sheets haunting him anew. ‘Don’t follow it’, he demands, latching on to her shoulders. ‘I’m not losing you again.’ 

‘I’m not going anywhere’, she promises with a smile, the sight quenching the fear in his heart. ‘I’m here, Keiji. I’m here. You said you wouldn’t let anything happen on your watch, remember?’ 

‘That was before you got yourself killed when I wasn’t looking’, he retorts dryly, though he’s unable to fully smother the smile blooming on his face.  

‘It wasn’t my fault!’ 

‘I told you not to get caught in the first place!’ 

‘Yeah - but you came for me nonetheless’, she says, eyes sparkling. ‘You came for me, like Perseus saving Andromeda from her shackles, snatching her from the very jaws of the sea monster.’

He chuckles, amused that she remembers the stories he tells her. ‘Nakamura was definitely uglier than a sea monster, so I’m sure that’s an accurate comparison. ’

‘Stupid!’ she laughs, raising her hand to playfully smack him again when he catches her hand in his. He steals a moment to marvel at the constellations in her eyes, wondering if the stars in the sky are jealous of her light. He wants to bask in the spotlight of her warmth and songs and laughter forever and oh gods -

He’s in love with her.

The realisation strikes him like a hammer blow to the chest. 

Has it already been a year that he’s spent mapping out the infinite breadth and depth of her soul? A year that he’s spent watching her wield her kindness like a sword and a shield. A year that fate has spent trying to smother her fearlessness to no avail - she still burns like an undying flame in the night sky. A year of unwritten poetry buried in spring flowers, stanzas of the wind echoing her songs to the gods. A year's worth of lessons in patience and exuberance and laughter, reminding him that life is a miracle to be treasured and not to be dismissed as a mere series of goals.

It is only now that he understands why his heart crumbled into dust, why his soul tore itself apart when he found out that she died -  because he loves her, this silly scrap of a girl.   

Her eyes widen as he tugs her forward to lean his forehead against hers. For once she’s at a loss for words. 

I love you  –  he wants to whisper against the rosebud of her lips, wants to shout it loud enough for the whole forest – nay, for every speck of stardust in the galaxy to hear. His mouth moves to form the words, but suddenly his tongue grows thick, his mouth goes dry. 

His heart stutters to a painful stop. 

He can’t remember her name anymore. 

He tries to say her name again, tries to spell out the syllables with his tongue but it’s no use, his mind remains stubbornly blank. It can’t be. He must have said her name a thousand times in this lifetime, recited each syllable like a sacred verse. 

How could he have forgotten her name?

‘What’s wrong?’ She pulls away, noticing the horror taut on his face. 

Beep. 

He looks down at his hands. Flesh and bone start to fade to dust.

‘Keiji’, she calls, and he can hear the Kodama in the trees echo his name. Keiji, they call. Keiji, she calls again. 

Beep. 

‘I’m starting to forget you’, he whispers, heart breaking anew as despair dawns in her eyes. 

‘No - ’ she cries, desperation in her voice, repeating his name again and again - Keiji, Keiji, Keiji and he wants to respond with her name, but he can’t, he can’t, he can’t -. 

Beep. 

His memories of her are golden hued and bathed in starlight, but slowly they all wash away into shades of grey. He tries his best to grasp onto them, but it’s  hopeless -like trying to capture the sea with his bare hands. 

Beep. 

He thinks of her, dancing in grassy meadows, with moonbeams as her lone light. 

Beep. 

He thinks of her, singing to the gods in the shadow of the forest shrine. 

Beep. 

He thinks of her, brimming with laughter and joy and kindness and love - and gods - 

Beep. 

How is it even be possible to forget the birdsong in her laughter, the blossoms in her cheeks - 

Beep. 

‘Keiji! ’ She reaches desperately for him, tears spilling from her eyes.

Beep. 

 His time runs out. His soul starts to fade into the night.

Beep. 

Her eyes shine bright, the constellations liquid silver in her eyes. 

‘I’ll find you, Akaashi Keiji - even if it takes me a hundred lifetimes, even if I have to wait a thousand years. So you better be ready for me when I find you, because - because I love you -  I love you, you fool.’ 

Beep. 

It’s the last memory he forgets of her, her vow losing its light in the darkness of his mind. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

He wakes up with a gasp. 

He is twenty five again, lying on the forest floor with a halo of fireflies dancing above his head.

It’s been almost a whole decade since he was seventeen but finally - he remembers her. 

Taglist

@animeflower26​ @forgetou​ @kageyamakock​ @underrated-fruit-tarts-official​ @bongofrito​

[irishseeeker]

this is for day 2 of @katexanthonyweek ! prompt: lovey dovey

                                          p.s I love you

Kate and Anthony spend their first week apart. They cope as well as expected.

“I must go.”

“Five more minutes,” Kate murmured, burrowing closer to her husband’s chest. “Then you can go.”

“We said that ten minutes ago.”

“I am failing to see your point.”

She felt Anthony’s laughter vibrating through his chest. They had been lying in bed all morning, Anthony’s departure creeping closer and closer. They had made love twice before Anthony left her to bathe and get dressed for his departure to Aubrey Hall.

Kate rested her chin on his collarbone, sighing softly as she looked at him. She wanted to remember every inch of his face. She knew she was being terribly dramatic, it was not as if he was leaving for weeks-it was merely a week he would be gone.

Anthony’s nose bumped hers, pressing his lips softly against hers. Her wretched splint had finally been removed, so their legs were tangled freely together on the bed.

Kate brushed some of his dark hair out of his eyes. “I have packed all of Newton’s things for you.”

“Must I bring the dog?” Anthony sighed, brushing his lips against hers. She could spend her entire life kissing him and it would never be enough.

Kate nodded, it was not up for debate. “You promised. I cannot bare the thought of you being alone down there.”

She felt him soften, pressing another kiss to her cheeks before ending with one on her lips. “You are lovely.”

“When are you going to admit that you love Newton? Do you think I do not notice the treats you bring home for him when you think I am not looking?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, wife.”

“You, Anthony Bridgerton, are far more soft than you would ever admit.”

“Kate. I am a dangerous, intimidating man. I told you to stop calling me that-“

She interrupted him with a kiss. It was quite effective whenever she wanted Anthony to stop talking. “I will miss you.”

It worked, his lips moved against hers but they broke apart. “Not as much as I will miss you.” I hate leaving you. Are you sure you will be alright?”

Kate carefully considered her response. Anthony had not been to Aubrey Hall to attend to his duties physically since before her accident. He dealt with any issues through penmanship and had sent his brothers on his behalf for any pressing matters. He had refused to leave her side for weeks. However, Kate was nearly fully healed and it was time for Anthony to visit his tenants and attend to his duties. Kate’s leg was too weak to join him moving from house to house each day, so she was staying behind.

The last thing Kate wanted was for Anthony to worry about her while he was away. He had only begun to relax about her leg and it had been two weeks since her splint had been removed. “I will be absolutely fine. My leg is nearly healed. Mary and Edwina are coming to stay and your family will call everyday.”

Anthony nodded at her response, although the creases on his forehead showed his distress at their current situation. “I have instructed the entire staff, including your lady’s maid, to keep an eye on you. If anything happens during the night or you need anything, they will be waiting.”

“I nearly forgot I had a lady’s maid,” Kate teased, dragging her fingertips delicately down his cheek. “You were such a good one.”

Anthony had been an angel since her accident. Of course, they had argued plenty and she had cursed him to oblivion when his overprotective and controlling nature got too much. The ridiculous man had believed her incapable of feeding herself at times, claiming it was too strenuous of an act. He had taken care of her in every way he could, much to her disdain at times. He would bathe her, dress her, feed her and take her to relieve herself during the day and night, much to her mortification and severe objection.

He kept her company throughout most of the day, working while she lay in their bed reading, sleeping or complaining. She had felt awfully sorry for herself at times and Anthony had always made her feel better.

Despite her occasional annoyance, Kate absolutely adored him for everything he did and she still struggled to comprehend what she had done to deserve such an incredible husband.

She was going to miss him so much she wouldn’t know what to do with herself.

Her leg had healed, she just needed to learn to walk on it again. Her muscle was quite weak and could not handle too much pressure, but there was no longer any pain when her leg moved or was touched. She was slowly improving.

Anthony’s expression turned serious. “I want no funny business, Kate. If I hear a word of you putting unnecessary pressure on your leg or attempting to walk recklessly-I will come straight back here and tie you to that bed myself.”

In the six months they had been married, Kate had come to learn a few things about marriage.

This was a deciding moment, where she could either start an argument with her husband about treating her like a child or choose to understand this was how her emotionally stunted husband struggled to express his emotions and feelings.

Kate wanted to make him feel better, to let him know she understood him and to reassure him nothing was going to happen while they were separated.

“Is that a promise?” Kate’s smile was devious, she couldn’t resist flirting with him. She had become much more daring with her newfound experience as a married woman.

“You will be the death of me, woman,” He said, groaning softly as his hands moved down her nightdress to squeeze her derriere. They both knew they did not have time to finish what they were about to start.

“I promise I will be on my best behaviour,” She said, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. “I will have someone with me at all times. I will not get into any carriages but your mothers. I will not be up to much, I will need to save my energy for the ball this coming Sunday. Where I will be waiting for you.”

It would be her second public engagement since her injury. She had not seen anyone but her family and Penelope since the accident. Anthony had escorted her to a ball the previous week. She did not do much but sit in the short time they were there, but it was better than lounging about in her home as she had been for weeks.

She felt Anthony reach for her hand, which he brought up to his lips to kiss. She felt him slip something cool inside of her palm, which she quickly opened.

“I want you to keep this until I return.”

It was his pocket watch.

“Anthony, I cannot. You bring this everywhere-“

“Here she is, again, arguing with her husband.”

“It is a favourite pastime of mine.”

“I will keep it safe, counting down until your return.”

“I packed my blanket with your things. For when you to go to sleep.” Aubrey Hall was a home to Anthony, but it was also full of painful memories of his father. She hated the idea of him being completely alone, but her leg was too weak for her to join him. He would be too busy with his duties to see her until nighttime.

“The blue one?”

It had been a gift from her father a few years before he had died. She had never slept without it, and often wrapped it around herself when they were alone. “Yes.”

“I like that one. It smells like you,” He said, his thumb brushing the top of her cheekbone. “Lillies and soap.”

Anthony carefully sat up, pulling Kate along with him. “I must go.”

As she watched her husband stand up and straighten out his clothes, Kate fought off the embarrassing urge to cry.

They had spent a single night apart since their marriage, which was the night of his emotional breakdown that led to him running away to Bridgerton House. They had never been apart since.

Anthony knelt between her legs where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. He held her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers.

“It is only a week.”

She nodded reassuringly, more for herself than Anthony. “It will fly by.”

“Please don’t cry, darling,” He said soothingly, wiping the tears that were freely flowing down her cheek.

“I am not,” She said stubbornly, the sob breaking free from her throat removing any plausibility from her statement. “T-there is something in my eye.”

Anthony snorted as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. He kissed her hair as she let out a few more sobs, ungracefully wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I am being ridiculous.”

“Never,” He teased and they simuntenaouestly burst out laughing. ”I love you so much, Kate.”

“I love you so much,” She replied, pulling him towards her for a passionate kiss. She slips her tongue between his lips, glued to hers and never wants the moment to end. It does, a few moments later. “Please be safe.”

He pecked her lips softly. “Of course. I will write to you this evening.”

She watched him walk towards the door, putting on a brave face to smile at him. “I will see you on Sunday.”

She nodded, biting on her bottom lip hard. She was trying not to blink, to force the tears to stay at bay behind her eyelids. “Sunday,” She said, nodding at him. “Goodbye, Bridgerton.”

He laughed, staring at her with an intense expression that made her feel self conscious and alive at the same time. “Goodbye, Bridgerton. I love you.”

Kate waited until she heard the rumbling of his carriage leaving the front of Bridgerton House before she burst into tears. Anthony had left before sunrise, so she allowed herself to go back to sleep after her tears had subsidized before rising for the day.

That evening, Kate sat in the drawing room with Edwina. Mary had retired to bed and the sisters were relaxing, it was still too early for them. Usually around this time, Kate would be sitting on Anthony’s lap in his chair. They would tell each other about their days and just converse for hours.

They never ran out of words to speak to each other.

Kate knew she was being dramatic, but she missed her husband. It had not been a day and she was feeling quite sorry for herself. She was already writing to him, wanting to send it on the overnight postal carriage to Kent. It would be with him by morning.

“What are you doing?” said Edwina, putting down the novel in her hands to glance at her sister’s scrawling on

“I am writing to Anthony.”

“Kate.” Edwina laughed softly. “It has been a day.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” Kate huffed, letting her head fall back onto the cushion. “If I send it soon, it should get to him by morning.”

“I hate not knowing what he is doing,” She said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Is he eating? When he is really busy, he sometimes forgets to eat. Maybe I should write to Aubrey Hall and make sure the servants bring him regular meals when he arrives home-”

“Kate,” Edwina said, interrupting her sister’s tangent. “Anthony is a grown man. He will be fine.”

“I suppose so,” Kate said grumpily, still debating whether she would write to the butler.

“It is rather lovely to see you like this, you know.”

“How so?”

“Completely in love,” Edwina replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Kate felt herself blush. “It suits you.”

“I can only hope I will have it someday.” Edwina bit her lip, fidgeting with the skirt of her dress.

Kate reached towards her sister, squeezing her hand. “I believe you have, sister. Mr. Bagwell is a lovely man. Once the appropriate time has passed for your courtship, you will be married. If that is what you desire.”

Kate dipped her pen in her ink pot and began to write.

Dear Anthony,

How are you? How was your day? I miss you terribly. How is Newton? I hope he is not terrorizing the cattle, he does love to play with them. I am imagining him running through the fields surrounding Aubrey Hall and the cross look on your face as you chase after him. I wish I was there with you both.

My day was very exciting. I ventured all the way to the drawing room and the kitchen. Colin called on me earlier and ate the chocolate cake meant for dinner, Cook was quite cross.

I am now playing games with Edwina after dinner. Please remember to eat and to get some rest. Brandy and biscuits are not a sufficient meal, Anthony Bridgerton.

I do not want to hear a word about my penmanship in your reply.

Please say hello and give Newton a kiss from me.

I love you.

Your Kate

The following evening, their butler walked into the dining room during dinner. “My lady, a letter has arrived for you.”

“Thank you.” Kate hastily grabbed the letter, squealing with excitement as she tore the letter open. Mary and Edwina watched her with amused expressions.

“Oh be quiet,” Kate said, scrunching her nose at her mother and sister before focusing on the letter.

Dear Kate,

Apologies for the delay in my response, it took me quite some time to make out what you had written.

Kate could practically see her husband’s grin as he wrote this letter. What an ass. Oh, she loved him. She continued to read on.

I began visiting tenants yesterday. There is a roof to be repaired and crops that extra help is needed to harvest. I met two newborn babies, I had forgotten how small they usually were.

I have eaten eggs for breakfast, beef for lunch and chicken for dinner. Are you satisfied?

Dessert was strawberries and cream, which I would have much preferred to have eaten off you. Remember?

Kate bit her lip, feeling her cheeks warm. This was not a letter she should be reading at a dinner table with her mother and sister. Of course she remembered what her husband was referring to. It had happened during their short honeymoon in Aubrey Hall. It involved a picnic blanket, strawberries, little clothes and a lot of cream.

She took a deep breath before continuing to read.

Please do not worry about me. I am fine. More importantly, how are you? How is your leg? I hope you are resting it. Please do not overexert yourself or I will make good on my promise to tie you to our bed.

How was Colin? Did he mention anything regarding his future travels? I worry about him. He seems to be keen to travel for the next few years without much purpose.

Newton is loving the attention most of the tenants are giving him, particularly the children. He had taken Hyacinth’s old doll hostage and has now beheaded her.

He noticed your absence after a while and began to whine but I managed to bribe him to keep quiet with some leftover butcher meat.

I love and miss you,

Your Anthony

Kate had sent her reply late the following afternoon, sending it out with one of the servants.

Dear Anthony,

I received your letter at the dining table, with my mother and sister present. Do you enjoy teasing me so?

Colin spoke of visiting Spain next. I know you worry, as an older brother should, but I believe he is still finding his purpose. He is still young and he has an adventurous spirit.

Benedict taught me how to paint with watercolours today. I had a splendid time, although it did make quite the mess. He is very talented. We should ask him to do one of our portraits. I have always wanted a portrait of Newton for our bedchamber.

Are you well? How are the tenants? I very much look forward to meeting the new arrivals when I come down. Please do send them my well wishes. I am looking forward to seeing them again once we move to Aubrey Hall after the season.

I hate sleeping without you. I love you, darling.

Your Kate

Anthony’s reply arrived the following afternoon, when Kate was having tea with the Bridgerton women. Kate had to excuse herself briefly to read the letter, she was too impatient to wait.

Dear Kate,

A portrait of Newton is not going in our bedchamber. It is not going anywhere in Bridgerton House. As pleased as I am to hear of my brother’s talents and your enjoyment, there will be no portraits of ill behaved dogs.

Your, not our, delightful dog decided to take a swim in the lake this afternoon. However, your dog had failed to take into account the depth and temperature of said lake and got frightened. He swam to a rock and refused to move until I had to swim to him, grab him and bring him inside.

I am still debating his murder.

This is the second time Newton has led me into a lake.

Newton is now attempting to follow me to bed. This is why we do not allow animals to sleep in our beds, Kate. They get needy.

I miss you desperately. I love you.

Your husband,

Anthony

Dear Anthony,

You would do well to remember Newton was sleeping in my bed before you were, Lord Bridgerton.

I do not believe for one second that you did not let Newton into your bed. I cannot lie to you, I am laughing as I read your letter. Newton is very naughty. He does get excited and he cannot help it. The world is a cruel place to not let me witness such an event.

I suppose I will always have the Serpentine.

When are you going to admit that you love him? It is rather sweet he wanted you to get him out of the lake. You are his papa.

Regarding the portrait of Newton, perhaps your office would be a suitable place for it?

Love,

Kate

It was very enjoyable to tease her husband and she even managed to do it through a letter. A letter arrived each day throughout the week, and she sent her reply shortly afterwards.

Dear Kate,

I am not going to have this argument again. Newton is not our child. He is an animal.

I will concede that he is good company. When he is not dragging me into freezing lakes or terrorizing the tenants chickens.

How is your leg? Have you been resting it?

The nights are so dull without you, I miss you. I would pay ten pounds to listen to you play the flute right now if I could. Instead, I am listening to Newton's snores.

Anthony

Dear Husband,

Newton is most definitely our child. If he is not our child, why did you have the tailor prepare him coats for the winter to keep him warm? His coats were made out of very similar fabrics to yours, I might add.

A coincidence? I think not.

My leg is doing well. I have not moved much. Eloise and Francesca joined Edwina and I for tea today, which was quite pleasant. Francesca played the piano, it was so lovely. However, when I offered to play the flute, they suddenly had to return home. Edwina then declared she needed a nap.

Mr. Bagwell joined Edwina and I for lunch this afternoon. I do think he will propose soon. They are so sweet together.

You would be so lucky to listen to my flute playing, Lord Bridgerton.

I love you. I am counting down the minutes until your return.

Yours always,

Kate

Dear Wife,

That is beside the point. I ordered those coats because it was the practical thing to do. I was not going to spend my time picking out additional fabric for Newton’s coats. A Viscount has much more important things to attend to.

Besides, I only wear the best fabric. There could not have been a better choice.

Newton is very fond of his coats, so I win. He wore one during our walk this morning.

I will listen to you play the flute anyday, darling. I might require a glass of brandy beforehand.

That is good news about Edwina and Mr. Bagwell. Perhaps for their wedding gift, I could pay for some carriage handling lessons?

The tenants appreciated the baskets you had put together for them, I had a few of the servants' assistance distributing them today. They asked me to pass on their thanks and appreciation to the wonderful Viscountess.

I cannot wait to see you, I love you.

Your husband,

Anthony

Anthony Bridgerton was on a mission to see his wife.

It was the longest they had been apart since they married, and Anthony had hated every second of it. He had arrived in London and headed straight for Hastings House, where the ball of the evening was taking place.

The Duke and Duchess of Hastings, his sister and brother in law, were celebrating Simon’s birthday.

The ball was well underway when Anthony walked into the ballroom. He was nearly two hours late, much to his delight. He planned on taking Kate home straight anyway, he just had to find her first. He scanned the ballroom but to his dismay, she was not in sight.

“Anthony!”

Anthony sighed as disappointment flooded his veins when he turned around to see Daphne, and not Kate.

“Have you seen Kate?” He stepped forward to kiss her cheek. “Hi Daph.”

“Please do not look so ecstatic to see me,” Daphne teased, smirking as she looked around the room. “It is only my husband’s birthday ball. The last I saw of her, she was sitting with Penelope. How was Aubrey Hall?”

Penelope would not be hard to spot, the poor girl was usually forced into an unfortunate frock that blinded the eye.

“It was busy but an enjoyable week.” That was a lie, Anthony had been miserable without his wife. He had spent the first month of their marriage trying to avoid falling in love with her and keeping his distance from her. “If you will excuse me, I have to find Kate.”

“Brother! How was Aubrey Hall?”

Anthony practically hissed before turning around to look at his younger brother, Colin. He wasted no time with pleasantries. “Have you seen Kate?”

“Hello, Colin,” Colin said, enjoying his brother’s irritated expression. “How are you, brother? I have not seen you in a week. No, no. I insist. Are you enjoying the ball? I am, our dear sister chose quite fine food- ”

“Did we not spend eighteen years of our lives together? Was that not enough?” Anthony replied, rolling his eyes at his brothers. “I would speak more kindly to the person who handles your allowance, brother.”

“As if you would refuse any of it to me, brother,” Colin retorted, grinning at his brother and Anthony huffed, he knew his stupid little brother was right. “You should try the pastries, they are divine.”

Anthony shook his head. “I am not hungry, Colin. I want my wife. Have you seen Kate or not?”

He knew he would get grief from his brothers later, for acting like a lovesick fool. However, he could not find it in him to care. He was one. He was completely infatuated with his wife, who he had not seen in a week and that was a downright crime.

“Lord Bridgerton. Kate is in the drawing room, resting her leg.”

A small voice piped up from behind them, and Anthony turned around to see Penelope Fetherington, smiling pleasantly at the two Bridgerton brothers.

Panic initially filled his chest as Penelope spoke. Had Kate hurt her leg? It was unusual for his wife to rest without some sort of bribery. His family would not be so calm if she had injured her leg, he rationaled, so he took a deep breath.

“Miss Fetherington, I did not see you there. Forgive me, how are you?” Anthony pressed a kiss to Penelope’s glove before nodding his head. It was rude but he did not plan to stick around for his reply. There was one thing on his mind: Kate. “Thank you, Penelope. If you’ll excuse me.”

He did not waste the opportunity to subtle whack the back of Colin’s head as he left the pair.

Anthony practically sprinted through the ballroom, the drawing room was onto two doors down from the large ballroom. He opened the door and there she was, breathtakingly beautiful, sitting on one of the chairs.

Kate’s head turned swiftly at the interruption, her eyes widening at the intrusion before a large smile settled on her face when she saw who it was.

“Did you miss me, Lord Bridgerton?”

His wife’s voice flooded his body with a lightness one would think only drugs could achieve. He felt almost giddy, striding towards her. If he did not kiss her in a few seconds, he would go insane.

“Not as much as you missed me, Lady Bridgerton.” Anthony could not even convince himself on that note.

He swiftly pulled her onto his lap, carefully lifting her leg, before he took his face in hers and kissed her with every fibre of his being. The scent of lilies and soaps flooded his nostrils as her lips moved against his.

He was never leaving her again.

“Hi,” She whispered as they broke apart, panting heavily as they caught their breath.

“Hi,” He replied, laughing at her as he pulled her closer, pressing his lips against hers softly before burying his face in her hair.

“I was told you were making quite the ruckus in the ballroom in your attempts to find me. It is quite rude to shove people out of your way, you know.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “People need to learn to get out of my way to simply avoid being shoved. Where were you?”

He twirled a few strands of her hair around his fingers, watching her intently as she spoke. “Cressida Cowper purposely spilled wine on Penelope’s gown. I was helping her get the stain out.”

Anthony scowled, “What an abomination of a person. Penelope was the one who told me you were here. She seemed alright. Was she?”

Kate brushed some of his hair behind his ear, her fingertips lightly trailing his cheek. “She was upset, but tried to hide it. We did not have much luck removing the stain, though. She is dancing with Colin now, so her mood has improved significantly.”

“Cressida had to depart quickly afterwards. A few cream tarts found themselves smeared on the back of her dress.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “How they got there, one could only imagine.”

“I suppose we will never know.” Kate’s deviant smile said it all. He really had married the greatest, slightly terrifying, woman to ever exist.

Anthony grinned at her, his incredible wife, their noses touching now as his hands completely wrapped around her. “How are you?”

“Splendid. I did miss you terribly, though. It was quite the nuisance.”

He stole another kiss. “Oh, Kate. You do wonders for my ego.”

She laughed, that sweet, beautiful laugh that rang in his ears and made him feel alive. “It will eventually burst if we are not careful. Was everything well at Aubrey Hall?”

Anthony nodded. “Everything is splendid. I fixed every problem, collected rents and solved disputes. I am glad to be home.”

Kate kissed him, running her fingers over his cheeks. “You work so hard. Next time, at least, you will not be alone. That is the last time you will ever leave me.”

Anthony nodded in agreement. “I have no idea how I lived so many years without you. A week without you felt like a lifetime.”

“I suppose we should make up for lost time, my lord.”

“How so?” Anthony’s gaze darkened.

“Take me home and I will show you,” She whispered, blinking up at him in a way that made Anthony catch his breath.

He did not have to be asked twice.

[shandaumath]

The Baron of Thornwood

Vynlorin stepped from the seat of his manor atop his new barony. Thornwood it had been called: a place where the rich and seedy alike mingle, and where crime festered in the streets where nobody would turn an eye to it. What a place to be given rule over, the warlock thought, yet how perfect it would be for his own devices.

However, the citizens were displeased when they learned of the new baron’s rule. Vynlorin could hear the mutterings upon his arrival as the Duskwood natives scorned and mocked him, thinking that he would be easy prey. They wanted nothing to do with their new lord, and they would treat him with all the disrespect of a rat.

Yet Vynlorin had no intention of being disrespected.

On his second night of taking his new title he roamed the streets at sunset, daring the worst of the monsters to test him. Their glares only fed into his arrogance, and that devilish grin cracked wide against his lips when they spat at his name.

“The elf won’t last a week,” they whispered. “The streets will break him.”

“Fuckin’ elf.”

“We’ll beat him in his sleep.”

“Feed him to the dogs.”

“He ain’t my fuckin’ lord.”

“The duchess sent trash to rule over us?”

“...Maybe he can help.”

A quiet voice grabbed his attention.

In the corner of the streets scurrying away from his sight was a woman and her children, filthy and in rags. How pitiful the sight was and how deeply it gripped him to see his people living such tattered lives. She disappeared behind the tall and crooked buildings with an infant to her bosom and a boy clinging to her skirts, but the baron set his heel down and followed, floating down the stained stone path without a concern for the darkness he was entering into.

The sight was repulsive. Drunkards puked in the road and stumbled against the piss-stained walls of the bar they were birthed from, and the worst in the settlement lined the streets with their heads down as they suffered another evening without shelter. The fresh noble turned his nose up at it all, but he held his tongue from his scolding thoughts as his attention remained on those pitiful citizens that had beckoned him.

"Hey, pretty lady. You back for more?"

Vynlorin rounded a corner to find the woman tightly clutching her child to her chest while her young boy hid behind her leg where the foul drunkard couldn't get him. Her lip quivered, and she cowered from the rancid taint of bourbon and opium leaking from the man’s breath.

"Please," she whispered. The word cracked through her nerves.

"C'mon, pretty lady. You know what I like." His cracked and grimy fingers curled into her dress, dragging the fabric up her thigh as her grip tightened on her children. "My boys'll take care of your little rats while you get on your knees for me."

"Please," she whimpered again. Her words were stuck in her chest, and all she knew to do was plead as the shadows wriggled alive with more wolves ready to devour her. Vynlorin stared at the sight, and this his gaze grew sharp as his footsteps came to a halt.

"Ahem."

The group looked up.

"Who's the fuckin' elf?"

A man hopped off the barrel and pulled a dagger from his boot, poking it against his own finger to tease the blade. "I dunno, boss, but he looks real fancy. I bet his robes would sell for a pretty coin."

"Heard elf ears sell real good in Stranglethorn," another chimed in while flexing his fingers against a pickaxe.

The lord said nothing. Darkness had entirely enveloped the settlement, and only the glow leaking from the dusty windows of the bar spilled onto the streets. There were no torches in the alleyways, but that’s how the fiends liked it.

“Release her.”

The ren’dorei’s calm words drove them mad, and their leader yanked the woman closer and dug his fingers into the plumpness of her rear.

“Or what? You gonna bite me?” A filthy smile spread across his lips and revealed stained and cracked teeth that teased the woman’s neck. She bit her lips to muffle another whimpered plea for help.

Oh how Vynlorin despised repeating himself. His brow dipped into his eyes, but he offered his subjects grace for their ignorance.

“Release her.”

The other brutes stepped forward now, teasing their weapons with the promise of bloodshed as their drunken chuckles reverberated in their chests. “What a funny elf. Can we beat him now, boss?”

Their boss laughed into the woman’s ear, and his fingers dipped beneath her skirt and raised it over her hips to let the chilly evening air prick at her exposed flesh. Goosebumps washed over her, but all she could think of was protecting her children.

“My boys are gonna beat you to a pulp, and then you’re gonna watch us as we take turns fucking her one by one until she’s so full of us that she drips when she walks.”

Vynlorin’s upper lip twitched in displeasure, but something satisfied him enough to bring a smirk to his wild features. It was always so bittersweet when someone denied him. So bitter that they couldn’t listen to his words, yet so sweet that he had reason to punish them for it. He resigned to this fate and met the men with a simple response.

“Very well.”

Then chaos erupted. The shadows behind their boss rippled and fell away as a monstrous demon came into sight. She was much taller than the human and boasted six arms that lashed toward him without remorse. Before the thug could gather what was happening, the demon had already clutched his hand between two hands, wrested his elbows back with two more, and held his little squirming body with the others.

The boss yelped like a little schoolchild unable to keep his grip on the prize he thought he had won, and the demon lifted him high into the air where he squirmed as an example for the others.

“What the fel?! Get your fuckin’ hands off me! What is this?!” His wild screams attracted everyone’s attention, and the rest of the goons stumbled back.

“W-what… A demon?” Their eyes grew wide in fear and uncertainty before looking to the warlock who had summoned it.

Vynlorin cared little for their words or their reactions. He squatted down and held his arms open, beckoning the young boy to run to him. The boy’s mother stumbled backward in fear at the demon who had become her savior, and her arms wrapped tightly around her infant. Suddenly she felt her son leave her side as he shuffled his little feet across the cobblestones and fell into the baron’s embrace.

The warlock wrapped the boy in his arms and lifted him up to his shoulder, carrying the child as if it was his very own son. His touch was gentle, soothing, and wholly protective of the innocent boy while the chaos ensued.

“Close your eyes,” the lord whispered. “And cover your ears.”

The boy listened and clenched his eyes shut while his little hands slammed against his ears to block out the fear of the men who had been mean to his mother. He didn’t know the elf, but he knew that his mother had looked to the stranger with hope that carried into her children.

The mother too looked at the new lord with fear and hope alike. She saw her son run to the man, and for the moment she knew that the thugs had turned their attention from her onto the demon and its master. Even that small moment of peace -- that moment where someone had the courage to stand up for her -- was enough to put her trust in the stranger and run to him like the boy before her.

“Get the fucking elf!” the boss shouted before -- crack! His body went limp and dangled within the demon’s hands, lifeless. In one breath she had snapped his neck and robbed the man of any hope of the future before tossing the corpse down before his companions. The body twisted as it landed and the lifeless eyes looked up into the darkness.

“What in the nether is going on?!” The rest of them were frantic, terrified at the sight of their boss lying before them. Soon another sound wrenched their attention away as dark growls echoed through the darkness, a sound unlike any beast they had heard before.

“He’s insane! Run!” shouted the largest of the lackeys as he dropped his pickaxe and started further down the alleyway behind the tavern. The others quickly followed, and everyone in the streets scattered, stumbling down the path away from the demon that had no qualms with murder -- the demon that had created made for murder.

Fear skittered throughout the settlement, born first in the alleyway before quickly spreading to every ear that heard the horrible howls and blood-curdling screams echoing off the rooftops. Flesh ripped in the night and joined the cacophony of cries that followed.

The woman covered the infant’s ears as she came to stand beside her new lord, but her fear-stained eyes grew alight with undeniable gratefulness that didn’t know how to express itself.

“Thank you,” she whispered out, finding these words with renewed strength.

Vynlorin wrapped his arm around her shoulders while continuing to hold the boy safely against the warmth of his chest. The ren’dorei, terrifying as he was, became a beacon of hope to them, and though he said nothing as they passed through the cruelty of the streets toward the manor, the determination that sat in his brow said everything she needed to know to give her faith for the future of her children and so many others like them under the rule of the new baron of Thornwood.

[exosmuttytalk]

Jackie

Characters: Kim Jongin x Do Kyungsoo 

Genre: AU!Fluff, maybe some smut at the end, but don’t know yet.

Word count: ~1600 words

Summary: Kyungsoo lives with his cat which is more problems than joy. Jongin has just moved into the house next door.

A/N: This is going to be a little series with an still undefined number of chapters to it. If you have read Guardian you probably know where the name Jackie comes from and I like you very much :3

I woke up in the morning getting my toe licked. For many people, this could a promising way of starting the day, but that was not the case. As the night progressed I had slid further down the bed so that my right foot was dangling off the edge of the bed. My annoying cat, who by then had been on a diet for a grand total of eight days, had a very early internal clock and knew when it hit exactly 6 am to come and complain because her breakfast is not on her bowl. I have to give credit to her though; she started off slow, just by licking my toe as a warning, before trying to open-mouth maul it.

“Fuck off, Jackie.” I grunted as my leg recoiled under the duvet and I pulled it up to cover my head.

Her obvious next step was hopping onto the bed and walking all over me. Most of the times, cats waking their owners up videos are cute and adorable, but that was not necessarily the reality.

Jackie came home when my brother moved countries to work and she needed a new, loving home. I wouldn’t say I fit that criteria completely, but maybe like 50% of it. Either way, she took quite a long time to adapt to his new home and at the beginning, I was barely able to convince her to stay indoors. That caused her a lot of stress and, according to the vet, she ended up eating everything edible she could find and hunt outside. Who would’ve thought cats could have mental problems as well. So she had to be put on a diet, the gate from the kitchen had to be removed and she started getting used to waking me up but sitting her whole nine kilo self on top of my belly.

I pushed her off me to the other side of the bed but sat up on the edge of it anyway. The alarm was going off in an hour and a half anyway.

I could feel Jackie’s fur brushing against my back, slyly pushing me off the bed. As I made my way down the stairs to the kitchen, she was almost walking between my legs, so had to jump off the last couple steps to avoid falling.

Her veterinary told me to buy a certain type of food that had to be heated up, so I killed time throwing a ball across the kitchen which Jackie would then lazily fetch around the room but never actually return. Bowl on hand, I tried to command her to sit, but she only looked at me with round eyes and meowed insistently. I sighed and put the plate down after giving a quick stroke along her loin.

After I got dressed and closed everything up so Jackie wouldn’t stand a chance, I went for a quick stroll around my neighborhood. I was fairly new to this place, having moved into a residential area from the business part of the city, but despite that, I had already made friends with the old lady who lived next door and who never seemed to sleep and neighbors on the other side, the young couple with a little kid who actually just moved away last week. I liked them all fairly well, but although houses here have a pretty sizeable lawn and are at a distance from each other, I could hear their cute baby crying during the nights at times. Sun was already rising when I came back home from my walk and saw a moving van parking in front of the unoccupied house.

…………..

Six in the morning. Again. I’m wrong, it’s 6:02. Jackie must have enjoyed sleeping in.

After having had a particularly awful meeting at work the previous day, I had come home last night and barely cared to cook, so I ordered a pizza and opened a plain can of tuna for Jackie. This morning, she would be getting a gourmet treat, as I was going to make small croutons out of the leftover pizza crusts and add them to her wet food. She may like the crunch, let’s hope she doesn’t crack a tooth.

I had only bothered hiding the crusts from her before I went to bed the night before, quite late after I stood up watching a rerun of a show from before I was born. Pillows were all over the place and the empty box was still on top of the table next to a couple cans of stuff I chugged yesterday. I decided it would be future Kyungsoo’s problem and groggily walked towards the shower.

Future Kyungsoo sighed so hard when he came back home at 7 pm and saw what the other guy had left for him. Postponing wasn’t really an option anymore, so I decided to go for a full room cleanup instead.

I was surprised when I moved the pillows around and Jackie didn’t come zooming out from whatever corner to fight me for it. Despite having a cushiony bed, despite my attempts at making her not do it, she always managed to steal random pillows and hoard them at different places around the house.

This was quite a big house, she could be hiding at the bedroom pillows instead. Despite that, I went looking around every corner and under every piece of furniture, to no avail. I was starting to feel a bit nervous, I thought she had already adapted to being home? My gaze wondered across the room until it found a window ajar. I had opened a little this morning to let the steam of the shower come out and forgot to close it. And Jackie had probably jumped out through it. Despite her weight, Jackie was still pretty agile, and there was a tree branch reaching out not far from the windowsill.

Shit, shit, shit. I ran downstairs and hurriedly opened the kitchen door that led to the backyard. I turned the lights on but they couldn’t do much against the darkness of late fall evenings. I pulled out my phone to turn the flashlight on and started calling for Jackie. My voice rose as I looked around the bushes and found nothing. I heard movement behind me but it turned out to be nothing but a squirrel that was lucky Jackie wasn’t around.

“Hey!” A voice not higher than a talking tone said from behind the right side fencing. “I think this is may be yours.”

I rushed to the fence and as soon as I glanced over it I saw Jackie delicately sitting down on top of the only cushion on the whole porch swing. That little shit.

The second thing I noticed was the guy who had given me the heads up. He looked to be around my age, had light brown hair, slightly tanned skin and was wearing what seemed to be loungewear in old sweatpants and an oversized, seemingly fluffy dark red jumper.

“I was just here having a beer and her cute head popped up from that hole over there!” The new guy pointed at a hole in the fence that indeed connected both houses.

“Oh. I’ll have to get that repaired…”

“I can do it, don’t worry.”

“I wouldn’t want to waste your time…”

“You’re not. We just moved in and I still need to find a job here, so in the meantime I have plenty of it.” He smiled brightly at me and he seemed so self assured I didn’t want to refuse anymore.

“I’m sorry, she shouldn’t be out, but she sneaked through a window I left open. May I come in and pick her up?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I can do that for you.” Then, as if it was as easy as picking up a flower, he walked up to Jackie and picked her up. With both arms. And she even dared to cuddle up against him.

He then handed her to me over the fence, cupping her butt and tail with his big hand in order to avoid her scratching herself against the wood.

“She never lets anyone pick her up so easily.”

“Ahh, it’s a she! I was calling her a good guy when he was sitting with me. I’m sure she’s liked the food, though.”

“The food? Which food?”

“Well, she was just chilling around the yard, so I went in to take the beer. She was on top of the table and already biting some of the food, so I figured since it was already ruined, it didn’t matter if she ate more,” he shrugged. “She seemed to like it.”

“How can you just go around feeding other people’s pet like that? What if they’re sick or allergic?”

“Oh, mmm… I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was your cat and not just any street cat. Cats can eat all food, right?”

“What did she eat?”

“Almost half a chicken sandwich. Roasted chicken, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise and cheese,” he recited looking anxious. Roasted chicken and vegetables wasn’t the worst option.

“I tried to feed her a chip as well, but she didn’t take it.”

The look on my face must have been unpleasant enough to make him falter a bit.

“I’m really sorry! Do you think she’s going to be okay? How can I make it up to you?”

 “It’s alright,” I said as I started to make my way back home. “She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure to lock the windows properly next time.”

___________________

Jackie II

MASTERLIST!?

Other Kaisoo and Ksoo business

Everyday   OC/Fluff/One Shot

Stories of my downfall      Kaisoo/Fluff/Angst/One Shot

Tag list:

@exosmutxoxo​ 

[xxsovereignsarayaxx]

A King Needs His Queen - The Originals (Chapter 3)

“True love is like playing chess the King may be the most important piece on the board however the Queen is the most powerful and dangerous as she performs more moves then than any other. The Queen will always protect her King.” Word Count: 4042 Warnings: None

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

I left the house as Nik was putting Elijah in his coffin, I headed straight into the Quarter looking for Marcel. I was no longer going to sit back and watch Nik destroy this family once again. He will thank for me my efforts in due time. As I walked into the city I saw these posters littered everywhere and people which I were presuming who were vampires handing out flyers to the humans that littered the streets. New Orleans was known as the life of the party guess that was still the case even now as tourists were everywhere. I snatched one of the posters that was stuck on a nearby wall.

M ABATTOIR WHERE THE PARTY NEVER ENDS

I knew this was the best place to start looking for answers and if it meant going behind Nik's back to do so then so be it. I wont let anyone else get hurt, I strolled in the party was which was in full swing music blared out and humans and vampires alike danced, drank and had fun.

I spotted Marcel on the balcony over-seeing the party, I took the stairs and made my way over to him, only to have two of his vampire bodyguards try to stop me.

"Now unless you boys wish to have your hearts broken and ripped out I suggest you move" I say sweetly but loud enough for them to hear. I smile at the pair and barged my way past them since they didn't get the hint. Marcel is leaning against the railing, with a large smile on his face.

"Marcellus glad to see you wasn't turned into ash" I say sarcastically.

"Elizabeth, glad you could come and see my empire!" He boasts.

"Now, now Marcel flattery gets you no where" I reply to him.

"So do tell me how do you keep your little minions well fed?" I ask him.

"People of all stripes and flavors from all over the country to come here to party on our streets. Some are just looking for fun and others well their looking for something more, a little darker. So we invite them into my home..." Marcel started.

"Your home? You mean the Mikaelson home? Please now dear boy don't forget where your from" I interrupt him.

"Please forgive my wife, she can be a bit territorial" Nik says as he emerges from the shadows walking over to us he gives Marcel a pat on the back and myself a kiss.

"Then, at the stroke of midnight, everything changes and it's time to feed." Marcel finishes as if he was never interrupted. He looks down to see his vampires ravenously feed on the unsuspecting humans there blood curling screams fill the air along with the scent of their blood, which was making me every so hungry. I just wanted a little bite to eat, I sped down the stairs and and indulged in a few of the scraps of humans begging for there lives. These newbie vampires had no idea how to really feed, just making a mess.

I had plans to disrupt Marcel's ideals and this would be the perfect start to throw a spanner in the works, so I snapped the necks of the humans I had fed from. I returned to my husband satisfied with my meal, using my fingers to wipe any stray bits of blood round my lips to which Marcel says to us both. "That is how I keep my guys happy, the occasional all-you-can-eat buffet. But my night-walkers love it, their working hard to earn one of these daylight rings, so they deserve to blow off a little steam. My trusted few day-walkers they just like the party." He says happily with himself.

"It's quite the operation, tell me what about the victims? Seems like a lot of graves to dig." Nik asks.

"Well, we can't kill them, if too many folk go missing tourism drops. So we heal them with vampire blood, erase their memory, send them on there way. No mess, no fuss. Usually..." Marcel says looking at me he was clearly not happy with my actions of just now and I just stood there and smiled at him.

"Well I'm impressed what about you love?" Nik asks me.

"Of course, the little warrior has proved he can look after himself and a handful of others." I reply with a smirk.

"Nothing I didn't learn for you pair back in the day" Marcel says. It was then the vampire that Nik had bitten had approached us, Thierry I believe his name was.

"Marcel" the vampire says.

"Sup, Thierry?" Marcel reply's. I shift in my stance to make myself more comfortable, Nik's arm slides around my back keeping me close.

"Six of our guys were killed in a bar outside of the Quarter, night-walkers. No one saw who." Thierry says to him. As Marcel takes the news in, we made our leave and myself and Nik headed back to the house.

"Was the deaths of those vampires anything to do with you love?" Nik asks me. I shake my head.

"Not me, I was going to ask you the same question. If it wasn't either of us then who could it be?" I reply.

"I may have a inkling who" Nik says and nothing more is exchanged until we arrive back at the house.

We entered a sitting room and Nik pours himself and me a drink from the small selection of liquor and hands me one of the glasses. He downs his glass in one and then proceeds to refill it. We relished in the peace and quite drinks in hand till we both drifted off into a sleep, leaning on one other for support.

"KLAUS! GET OUT HERE AND TELL ME WHAT YOU HAVE DONE WITH OUR BROTHER, YOU NARCISSISTIC, BACK-STABBING WANKER!!" The familiar voice rang through-out the house awakening us both, to which Nik gets up and opens the pair of  doors that adjoin to another room in the house.

"Enough with the shouting, little sister." Nik starts and with that I get up from my seat and make my way over to where all the noise was coming from. Rebekah clocks me and runs past her brother and tightly wraps me into a hug.

"Lizzie!" She says.

"I missed you too" I say to her. I was happy that she was back, maybe now Nik might be on his best behavior.

"I assume the six dead vampires were your doing?" I ask her chuckling.

"They were very rude." She says to us.

"Trying to victimize a poor, innocent girl just trying to find her way to the Quarter, so I impaled them with a pool cue. So sorry were they friends of yours? Oh that's right you don't have any friends." She says to her brother with a wicked smile on her face.

"Bekah... Please" I warned. She flashes me one of her smiles and I roll my eyes at her.

"I do have friends. I have Elizabeth and Marcel" Nik starts. "Elizabeth doesn't count she is married to you, she has to play nice" Rebekah teased.

"You remember Marcel right Bekah? He fancies himself as King of the Quarter now lets change that shall we? But he also has this rule about killing vampires, I wonder what punishment he comes up with for you." I tease back crossing my arms.

"I don't care for Marcel or his rules Lizzie, Elijah doesn't welch on his deals, what did you do to him Nik?" Rebekah snaps at her brother.

"Perhaps he's on holiday... or taking a long autumn nap upstairs, you remember this house as well as any of us" Nik says. I elbow him in the side to only get a glare sent my way. And I stand there look him in the eyes and smirk at him. Rebekah leaves the room but turns back to us

"I remember everything." and with that she walks away exploring the house we once lived in before. I recall the parties we used to attend as guests of the governor and they were so fun.

1820 The party was a busy and lively one, people were dressed in their finest clothes, music played in the background which was drowned out by the sound of laughter and chatter. I had my arm around Rebekah's as we passed person after person, some nodded others just exchanged glances. The governor was a greedy and drunken fool really so my family was able to bribe him with gold to keep the vampires a secret from the rest of the town. With all the money we had given him, the parties he threw only seemed to get more exciting and wild. We walk up to where the rest of our family were and only to see Nik with his teeth sunken in a young lady who I had my eyes set on earlier.

"Nik! I told you she was mine" I whined at him. I let out a huff and walked off outside to only find myself with the worst person ever... The drunken Governor.

"Mrs Mikaelson!" He slurred. Great I thought, just what I really need.

"Afternoon Governor, what a lovely get together you have organised." I say sweetly forcing a smile. I flutter my eyelashes at him, and use my fan to start pretending to cool myself down.

"Y..you..are...a pre..tty...little..thi..ng" He attempts to say, trying to reach out to stroke my cheek.

"Why you are too kind" I tell him taking a small step backwards. I was seriously out of my comfort zone and I  needed to get away from him, before he tries something else. Luckily I was able to get away, and briskly walked back to my family to see Rebekah clinging to the arm of another.  

"Dearest Elijah. You've only ever wished happiness for me. Emil and I are in love. Please, let me turn him." Rebekah asks. Oh dear here we go I thought, my dear sister has found another one, best let her down gently, I thought to myself.

"Rebekah love, the Governor keeps our secrets, but turning his only son wouldn't bode the family well." I tell her.

"Elizabeth is right, sister if anything listen to her" Elijah adds.

"Please for me..." She pleads.

"There is nothing we can do, Bekah. Emil will have to age without you. I hate to stand in front of your desires but this wish myself or Elijah cannot fulfill." I sigh.

"It's not going to happen, sister. If we turned every man you dropped your knickers for, then human beings would cease to exist and we'd have no bloody food." Nik interrupts.

I quickly turned my head and glared at my husband, I throw my hands in the air. "NIKLAUS!  There was no need to humiliate your sister like that, really sometimes your unbelievable and I wondered why I married you in the first place" I snap at him.

"How dare you, sir! You would do well to treat..." Emil started. Nik then rushed over and grabbed Emil by his throat. Carrying him with ease down the hallway. I stood there in horror watching the scene unfold, surely Nik wouldn't cause a scene. But how very wrong was I, in the background I heard both Rebekah and Elijah try and get Nik to stop and think about what he was doing, when I quickly rushed over. "Nik, please let him go" I ask him, reaching out Emil hoping to grab his hand.

"Very well love" He replies. And throws Emil off over the balcony, Rebekah shrieks and all we saw was Emil land hard over the other side. The force and height he was thrown from would have killed him instantly. I turn away from Nik and walk away, Elijah held a emotional Rebekah as she sobs in his arms. After a few moments alone my husband finally catches up with me and stops me walking any further.

"Come now, love" he starts.

"Excellent work Nik...Why kill him? There was no need" I snap sarcastically.

"He wasn't good enough for her, she deserves better" He tells me.

"Nik, nobody will ever be good enough for her. I understand that she is your baby sister, but it is important to let her spread her wings. Let her make her own mistakes if he wasn't the right person for her Bekah could have dealt with Emil herself. But because you took matters into your own hands we will never known and Rebekah will never learn." I tell him softly reaching out for his cheek, and giving it a soft kiss, his stubble tickled my lips.

"Please, don't kill the next one" I whisper in his ear.        

My thoughts were interrupted by Nik and Rebekah in the middle of a quarrel. When his phone starts to vibrate, he glances at it and the begins to leave.

"And where are you going?" Rebekah asks.

"It appears that the night isn't quite over. I'm off for another drink with Marcel, don't wait up." He replies sarcastically. He starts to walk away when Rebekah pipes up.

"Elijah told me about your plan to take apart Marcel's empire piece by piece. I don't remember it involving the two of you drink New Orleans dry together."

"Yes why are going for a drink with Marcel?" I ask my husband.

"Rebekah I know you don't have many friends but what some friends do is drink when they get together, and when they drink they tell secrets. Marcel has somehow found a way to control the witches in the Quarter and my aim is to uncover the how so I might take it for myself. Finding Elijah didn't quite make my to-do list" Nik responds. He continues to head for the front door to where he turns around once more.

"Elizabeth love are you coming? And welcome home little sister." Nik says to us both

"I have some catching up to do with my sister, besides I don't quite fancy peeling you from the bar when you've had too much to drink." I say to him, walking over and kissed him.

"I love you" He tells me planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

And with that he leaves and shuts the door behind him. Rebekah standing there in a silence she is probably thinking about what was said, when I see Hayley on the landing. Rebekah snaps out of her gaze. "You, wolf girl. I'm going to search this place inch by inch until I find what my evil brother has done with my good one and you're helping" she says.

"No need to tear this place apart Bekah,  I know exactly where he his." I say with a sigh. I start making my way through the house which lead us to a spiral staircase, Rebekah behind me and Hayley following behind.

"You knew where he was and didn't think to help him?" Rebekah asks.

"If I did, I would have risked everything. Elijah freed me from my slumber to try and get Nik to see reason about everything including Hayley and baby. I can't do that if I'm inside of a box. Can I?" I tell her sternly.

"When we lived here the Governor had lots of secret rooms, I'll show you his favorite." Rebekah says changing the subject. As we carried on walking down the stairs we arrived in a dusty and cobwebbed cellar.

"Down here are a number of coffins, with Elijah's currently occupied only my own and Rebekah's lay vacant." I say.

"You think Klaus has killed him?" Hayley asks us.

"Nik, Elijah and Rebekah are original vampires they can't be killed, I on the other hand was made stronger to match there strength by a witch, I will tell you more another time." I tell her.

"But it doesn't stop Klaus from finding ways to torture us. He has a set of mystical silver daggers. One to the heart sends us into a deep slumber. Klaus gets his jollies from keeping us in a box, until he decides to pull the dagger out. That's what he has done with Elijah." Rebekah adds.

As we enter the cellar the coffins come into view. "This one here is mine and Rebekah's is other there." I inform Hayley. Hayley stops and takes a gulp.

"He keeps your coffin on standby?" She asks.

"Well my husband likes to be prepared for when his family disappoint him, wait a minute Elijah isn't here... He must of known I would help you when you got back and hid him somewhere else." I say with a large sigh. When Nik had placed Elijah in the coffin it was down here I was certain, maybe when I had fallen asleep shortly after he moved him, but where?

"I feel sick... And it's not my hormones" Hayley says covering her mouth.

"Well welcome to the family sweetheart, you should have run the second Elijah was gone" Rebekah says.

"Now Bekah, no need to be harsh on the poor girl." I tell her. I offer Hayley a small smile, and we started to head back upstairs.

"Yeah well the witches have put some sort of hex on me, and as long as I'm carrying this baby I can't leave New Orleans. If I do they kill me." Hayley tells us.

"Well knowing Klaus, he's planning a box for you the second you give birth to whatever is cooking In your tum. I'm leaving as soon as I find Elijah. Being daggered in a box for decades sucks trust me, Lizzie will agree with me there. Your best bet is to find a way to break that hex and run." She adds.

And with that Rebekah walks away continuing to search the house for her brother, leaving Hayley with me. "Don't worry, no harm will come to you" I tell her and make my way to find my sister.

I find her in the study. "Bekah I'm sorry that I couldn't stop Nik from hurting Elijah, I really am but as I said Elijah was able to break the spell that had me confined to a coffin, I couldn't risk being put back in so soon after getting out. I will speak with Nik when he comes home to find out where he has Elijah. And I will remove the dagger myself." I tell her. Rebekah paces around the study and then takes a seat on the large leather chair that is seated behind a oak desk, books and papers scatter the top.

"I'm not angry that you didn't stop Nik, you tried that's all that matters, what are you going to do when Elijah is free? Are you coming with us?" She asks me.

"As much as I want to, I need to make my marriage work both me and Nik have been without each other for too long. Yes he has some serious making up to do for having me put in the box in the first place and I think deep down his way of making it up to me is getting New Orleans back and under his control like it once was. Why not stay Bekah? We could all be a family again here." I tell her.

"You are really like a female version of Elijah, things would be very different if you had married him instead." She chuckles at me and proceeds to get up and bring me into a tight squeeze.

"I think I might take Nik's offer and join him for a drink" I say with a smile and leave the study to grab a coat and left to head into town.

"I would have thought you and Marcel would have drunk the place dry by now and yet you haven't even started" I tease at my husband before he walks into the bar.

"Well I thought I would do a little more sight seeing get a feel for the place." He tells me.

"Nice of you to join me though love, do tell me what brings you here?" He asks me. I pretend to look hurt. "Am I not allowed to go and have a drink with my husband and his friend, do tell Niklaus your not ashamed of me are you?" I tease.

"Not in the slightest love, I have my Queen by my side" he tells me pressing a kiss to my temple and with that we make our way inside the bar to see Marcel drinking alone.

"Well this is a far cry from last night's party" Nik says as we approach him and sit down. Nik let's me take the seat closest to the window. I also happen to notice that Marcel keeps glancing over to a young woman with blonde hair she was writing in a notebook.

"In pursuit of a young blonde your type hasn't changed Marcel." I tell him smiling.

"I do believe that is the bartender from Rousseau's" Nik adds.

"She is a work in progress" Marcel tells us with a smile.

"And yet here you are pining over her when you should be eating her for lunch. Oh she must be special." Nik says to him. I lean back into my chair a little trying to get comfy to find Nik arm around my shoulders pulling me in closer towards him his own unique scent goes up my nostrils this was nice and this is what home smelled like.

"Business first. The coroner called. He's got my number in case any dead tourists show up." He says.

"Hmmm and let me guess along with the two bodies I gave to you as a housewarming present you have more?" I say sarcastically.

"Dead tourists with a stamp on their hands and vampire blood in their veins am I right?" Nik adds to my statement. Marcel taps on the table in a slow rhythm.

"It happens. Someone takes a drunken turn off a balcony or in the Mississippi... And today I got two of them to deal with. So that makes four extra problems I have had to deal with." Marcel says.

"Oh don't be so prude Marcel, enlighten me though why the bartender?" I ask him. But before Marcel answers my question Nik had gotten up and made his way over to where the blonde girl was sat, she had started to pack her things away. She seemed to be on guard more now that Nik had walked over to her.

"Excuse me love, what's that you're studying?" He asks the girl.

"Abnormal psychology." She replies a slight bluntness in her tone of voice. Nik let's out a chuckle.

"Abnormal psychology? Well perhaps you could diagnose my friend over here. He's been a little bit depressed can't keep his mind of a girl. He tells me she's a queen fit for a king. I think he should cut his losses and move on. What's your professional opinion?"

I just generally look around the bar while he is having a conversation and see the sparkle of a very familiar  wedding band on the hand of my husband, which made me smile no end and I leave my seat to join him. "Any advice really, I mean the poor dear is in tatters" I say sweetly.

Marcel then gets up and speak to the bartender. "Be a nice guy, and maybe the opportunity will present itself some day." She tells him. I reach out to grab Niks hand giving it a tight squeeze.

"How about tonight, nine o'clock? I'll meet you right here?" He asks her. She looks at him with a sly smile.

"I'll take it under consideration" She tells him and with that she leaves the bar, just leaving us three with each others company.

"Ouch..." I say with a smile, walking back over to the table we were sat at to take a sip of the glass left unattended.

"Hmm, that was harsh" Marcel says to us. "I dare say I've lost my touch or you have lost yours." Nik says to his friend.

"I hope you better have lost your touch with the ladies Mr Mikaelson or your going to be in a heap of trouble" I tease him.

[stillebesat]

In These Tangled Webs (4/11)

Sanders Sides: Patton, Logan, Roman, Virgil Blurb: It should be easy admitting to your roommates that you’re not entirely human. Only in Logan’s case it’s not. Not when he discovers that Patton is afraid of Spiders.  Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort  Overall Warnings: Spiders, Arachnophobia, Death Talk, Minor Character Deaths, Slightly Detailed Descriptions of Deaths, Murders, Injuries, Swords, Imprisonment, Biting, Fangs, Venom, Extra Body Parts, Blood, Manipulation, Negative Self Talk To Catch Up: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3 

The red and black hourglass pulsed in Patton’s vision. Growing Bigger. Redder. Bloodier.

Warm arms surrounded him, pulling him from the motionless purpling form of Mr. Wratchet, his first grade teacher. “No!” He whimpered through teary eyes. “Teacher. You’ll be okay! You’ll be okay!”

“Aren’t you a precious thing?” A woman’s voice cooed, lifting him up. “So soft. So caring. It’s sickening and perfect.” She pressed him close to the upside down red triangle on her chest. “There, there.” She soothed as his classmates screamed around them.

“Spi-spi-spi--”

Cool hands ran through his hair, fingernails raking painfully across his scalp. “It’s alright. You’ll be safe with me.”

Patton sniffed, pushing away from the red mark on the strange lady. He looked up. “I wan---” He froze, eyes slowly moving from the blood stained lips, to the sharp fangs as the woman smiled, up to her eyes. Her six pitch black eyes. Why did the lady have SIX eyes?!?! “Momma.” He choked out. “I WANT MOMMA!”

She slowly shook her head, her wild brown hair tumbling over two of her eyes as she covered his mouth, not even flinching as he bit her hand. She laughed instead, her hold around him tightening as another hand easily forced his head back against that red triangle on her chest. “Feisty and caring. I do like you.”

He bit down harder on the hand in his mouth, fighting against her hold on him as another set of fingers trailed up and down his back keeping him in place as the six-eyed lady left the classroom. “MMFFMMH!!!” He screamed.

“Hush. Hush. You won’t need your momma for much longer, dear one.” 

“Spi-spi-spi-”

“Don’t you DARE WEB PATTON, Lo-mmmph!”

The woman abruptly set him down, easily pulling her hand from his teeth, smoothing his shirt, fixing his hair. Her lips parted, again revealing her fangs.

Fangs that had sunk into Mr. Wrachet’s neck, before her hands had twisted his head in a complete circle.

“You. Are. Perfect.” Two hands kept a tight grip on his shoulders as she half turned, gesturing with a third to the shadows. “Spiderling.” She called gently. “I have your breakfast.”

“Spi-spi-Ple-please.”

Patton stiffened, scream muffled by a fourth hand as the shadows shifted. A boy a little younger than himself edged out of the darkness, his two eyes the same black color as the woman’s. Those eyes landed on Pat and narrowed as the child opened his mouth, revealing two tiny fangs as he held out his hands to the woman. “Momma?” He asked as she drew him closer. “Where Bweakfast?”

“No. No.”

Patton whimpered. Already knowing the answer. No! No! The woman ruffled the boy’s hair. “Right here, dearest.” She said, forcing Patton to his knees, webs shooting from her hands to hold him place.

“Nonononono!”

Patton cried out in terror as she twisting his head, webbing him so he couldn’t move, exposing his neck to the child’s teeth. “Right here.”

A choked voice. “I’m sorr--”

“Sowwy.” The boy whispered, creeping closer, touching the webs holding Patton captive. “I sowwy.”  

A door slammed.

Patton screamed, recoiling. DON’T BITE ME!!

“No need to apologize to your food, darling.”

“Pat!”

“MMM!”

“Pat! PATTON!”

“MMAAA-AAAHHHOONNN”

“PATTON ANSWER US!”

Patton shuddered, the red hourglass still burned in his vision no matter how much he blinked.

Fangs. Death. BLOOD.

“PAT!”

The others. His friends. They---they needed help! Patton sharply inhaled, turning to the noise, the apartment abruptly snapping into focus.

“H-h-here.” He shakily croaked out in answer to Virgil’s frantic voice, focusing on the spilled pitcher of lemonade on the floor, on the smell of mint and lemon all around him.

Here. At the Apartment. Safe. Here. Not. He shivered. Not there. At the school.

A sigh of relief from near the couch. “Are you okay? Did Logan hurt you?”

Hurt? Patton frowned, feeling his neck. No scars. No bumps. How…..How had--why wasn’t he dead?

The Hourglass. Gleaming Fangs. Pitch black eyes. “Sowwy.”

“I’m sorr--”

Patton numbly reached out, pulling himself shakily to his feet, flinching as Virgil’s and Roman’s webbed up forms came into view.

Trapped. Can’t move. The webs. All those webs!!

Relief flashed across their ashened faces. “You didn’t get webbed.” Virgil said in a low voice as Roman voiced muffled agreement. “Think you can help us out?”

Patton clung to his necklace, struggling to draw a full breath as he mutely nodded. He was free to help yes, but...but--

The necklace hadn’t glowed.

Why hadn’t it glowed around Logan? It had glowed before…with the woman-

He swallowed hard, his stomach twisting unpleasantly.

How could he have forgotten that...forgotten the Human Widow who’d murdered two classrooms full of students and teachers--forgotten that he’d almost...that the spider lady had--was that why his grandmother had home schooled him for two years?! Because of this-this memory?  

Patton grimaced, rubbing his head as he staggered over to them, a death grip on the pendant.  

Help. He had to help them. Save them. From the Webs.

Shakily he reached for Roman’s mouth, only to flinch, jerking back as he touched the sticky gag, a whimper escaping him.

Trapped! TRAPPED!

Virgil tugged at his own webs, giving him a concerned frown. “Pat--you don’t have to--”

Patton violently shook his head. NO! He needed to help them out! Save his roommates! With a quick movement he grabbed the web, tearing it from Roman’s mouth and flinging it away before it could get stuck to him.

Ro muffled a yelp of pain, ducking his head against his chest. “Ow.” He managed a second later, rapidly blinking tears from his eyes as he looked back up.

Shoot! He hadn’t meant to-- “S-sorry” Patton apologized rubbing his hand against his pants to get the sticky feeling off his fingers. “I-I think…” He drew another shaky breath. “I-I’m--”

“All mine?” The child queried, tilting his head. “Eat all mine?”

Patton whimpered, struggling to move in the webs covering him.

The woman softly laughed, nodding. “I picked him out specially for you, my spiderling.”

The boy licked his lips, fangs glimmering as he leaned into the woman’s side. “All mine?” He repeated, small fingers touching Patton’s shoulder. “Where yours Momma?”

“Upstairs. I’ll feast on the newcomers. No worries, Logan. Momma will eat too.” She said, two of her hands guiding the boy’s fangs to Patton’s exposed neck as faint voices and stomping sounded overhead. “Hurry now.” She encouraged, withdrawing. “It’s fast food today.”

“Pat?”

Patton inhaled sharply, blinking his vision clear. “Fine.” He squeaked out.  

His roommates shared a look.

“You sure?” Virge asked, voice soft. “You look--”

“Paler than Count Dracula here.”

Virgil snorted, raising an eyebrow. “I think we can all compete for that title right now--But it is true, Pat.” He straightened as best he could, worrying his bottom lip “Maybe you should sit for a sec?”

Roman nodded, a bit of color coming back to his cheeks as he leaned towards Patton. “Before you faint, padre.”

A Human Widow! Here! You could have died!

GET A GRIP. His roommates needed him. He had to help!  Patton fought to give them a reassuring smile, tugging at his necklace. “I’m fi-fine...H-how are Y-you?”

Obviously not fine. They were trapped. Trapped in the we-webs! 

Again, they exchanged looks before Roman made a face, yanking at his arms with enough force to shift the couch a good foot from its original spot. “I’m perfectly fine. He caught me off guard for sure. Of all things, WEBS! I wouldn’t have--”

“I’m good too. Just surprised.” Virge interrupted giving him a faint smile, eyes glittering as he too worked to free himself. “I knew he wasn’t normal...but a Human Widow! A MALE Human Widow, Pat! Emile isn’t going to believe me.”

The necklace had never glowed around Logan.

“The ring glows! Safe. Spihers no like. Momma go bye bye. Momma no huwt you.”

He should have been safe from Human Widows.

Evil spider. Evil Lady Spider. Wanting to feed him to her son. Feed him to Logan--Wait.

Patton caught his breath, eyes going wide.

Virgil frowned, searching Patton’s face. “What?”

The ring protected him from them. The boy--

The boy’s teeth ghosted along his neck, breath warm against Patton’s skin. “I sowwy.” He said, softly. “Hod still k?”

Patton whimpered, unable to move in the webs the woman had covered him in. “You--you’re g-g-g-oonna kill me.” He sobbed, closing his eyes. He’d heard the woman. This boy, Logan, was going to eat him. “I donwanna DIE! DON’T KILL ME!”

A quiet huff.

Patton yelped as something jabbed his chest. Opening his eyes, he met the boy’s pitch black ones as Logan leaned in close, pressing his forehead against Patton’s.

“I. No. Eat. You.” He said forcefully, keeping eye contact, dipping his hands under Patton’s head. “SEE?”

A gentle tug and he stepped back, a wad of webbing held in his hands. “See. Safe. Hod still.” Logan advanced again, little fingers easily tearing away the remaining webs, from Patton, freeing him in seconds. “No eat. No die. All safe. K?”

Patton gaped at him, shakily getting to his feet as the spider child threw the webs into a corner. “Why...why not?”

Logan wrinkled his nose. “I no mamma. Bad tase you. ALL bad. BLEH.”

He tasted bad? “Oh.” Patton whispered. But then why did the lady want--

“Mhmmm” The boy nodded, grabbing his hand, tugging him to another door against the far wall. “Here. Huwwy. Run FAST! Mamma come soon. Go. GO!”

Run fast? But. He balked as the boy opened the door, revealing the playground outside as he attempted to shove Patton through. “She’ll catch me! I can’t...I’m too little!” He’d never been the fastest runner on the playground, she would catch him for sure. She would kill him!

The boy huffed, stomping his foot. “No! I liddle. You big.” He jabbed a hand outside. “You safe there! Pwomise!”

“You’re just a baby!” Patton shot back. “How can you keep me safe?” He couldn’t run fast enough! She’d been so fast in kil--killing Mr. Wratchet.

The boy growled, and twisted to grab at something on the ground. “With DIS.” He said, holding out an old nail.

“YO! PATTON!” Ro yelled, bringing the apartment back into focus as he wrenched one hand free, waving it energetically. “Earth to Pat, Dude stop staring it’s freaky.”

Patton barely saw the hand for the red and black hourglass filling his vision. “Logan.” Patton whispered, turning to the doorway. To where his roommate had stood. Had apologized instead of attacking him.

He’s A SPIDER! He’s a spider! A HUMAN WIDOW! WE’RE GOING TO DIE! Don’t be an idiot. Don’t go after him. It’s a trap! Human Widows lure you into their traps and--

“Safe. I no huwt you. Pwomise.”

That was the child’s voice. That was Logan’s voice.

Virgil huffed, ducking to avoid Ro smacking him in the face. “He’s not here. L’s long gone by now. We’re safe enough.”

“Yah, Dude’s more terrified than we are.” Roman agreed, using his free hand to tug at one of Virge’s trapped arms. “Did you see how quickly he fled?”

“Safe. You Safe.”

Was it possible? Patton dropped his hand to the necklace, heart pounding in his throat. He had to know. WAS his roommate Logan the same little Logan from those memories?

“Because you were an idiot and reached for the swords!” Virge hissed. “You meet your first Spliced and you threaten hi--”

“I WAS REACHING TO HIM, EMO NIGHTMARE! NOT THE SWO--” Ro cut off taking a deep breath. “Alright. I admit. I messed up there. But I wasn’t going to fight him!” He growled, moving to instead tear at the webbing tangling his feet. “I was trying to--’

“Pwomise. No huwt.”

“How can a nail save me?” Patton demanded.

Logan’s eyes sparked. “Like dis!” He said, easily bending the ring into a circle, small blue threads appearing between his fingers.

A Human Widow was supposed to hurt, to kill, to massacre.

Patton could remember all too well Lo’s gleaming fangs as he screamed, how his amber colored eyes had gone completely black as the glasses flew from his face. A Human Widow.

Who had left them alive. Who had dropped his hands. Who’d stuttered out an apology. And fled.

Logan had fled. Alone. Into the storm.

“See?” He held up the slightly glowing ring. “Wear dis. Spihers no like. Momma go bye bye. Momma no huwt you. Be safe.”

Safe.

They’d been safe for six months.

Widows kill within four.

Why didn’t Logan kill them? Kill him. Back then?

“I pwotect you.”

“I have to go.” Patton said, darting out the door without another word, ignoring his roommates cries of surprise, trusting that they would soon follow. After all, the two did theatre, they could easily sort themselves out of spi--. He shuddered. Spider webs.

THAT CAME FROM LOGAN’S HANDS. AHHHHHHHH!!!

“No. Shush.” He whispered, shoving the terrifying thought away as he ran barefoot down the stairs.

You’re running to your doom. He’s a HUMAN WIDOW! Just like the lady. She KILLED Mr. Wratchet right in front of you. She tried to kill you!

But the boy hadn’t! He’d helped him escape! Patton growled, brushing the necklace to soothe himself. “He’s my friend. He’s Logan. He. Won’t. Hurt. Me.”

Please let it be true.

But Human Black Widows were the most likely of all the Spliced to give into their inhuman sides. The most likely to turn on you and ki--kill.

“No need to apologize to your food, darling.”

Patton shivered. After seeing those fa-fangs in person. The...the WEBS. Patton could believe it-- NO. He violently shook his head.

“I’m sorr--”

“Sowwy.”

“Sorry.”

Logan was different.

“LOGAN!” Patton cried out, voice cracking as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, bursting out into the pouring rain.

If Human Widows were as dangerous as history had taught...then why had Logan run? Why had he been so standoffish when he first moved in? Why had it taken ages to convince him to hang out with the rest of them? The Widow’s M.O. was to seduce and charm their victims, taking their money before taking their lives. 

That wasn’t Lo.

Patton spun in a circle. If he were Logan and he were running away where would-- “School.” He whispered. Their nerd would head towards campus. He nodded. That had to be right.

“Logan! WAIT! STOP!” He yelled, splashing barefoot through the puddles as thunder rumbled overhead, trying to see his roommate in the fading light.

Why had he fled? Why hadn’t he tried to tell them? Why wasn’t he using logic and talking to them--

Dude’s more terrified than we are.

The webs.

The fangs.

The mark.

Spider.

Logan was part Spider.

I’m sure the spiders are more scared of you than you are of them, Pat.

Patton stumbled to a stop by the statue of their school mascot, clutching at his pendant as the horrible realization hit.

I hate Spiders. I HATE SPIDERS!

Logan hadn’t been avoiding the living room because he was scared of spiders. He’d been avoiding his roommates. Logan was scared of THEM.

That was why he’d stopped hanging out in the kitchen. That was why he’d hidden in his room. That was why he’d run.

KILL IT! KILL IT!

He was scared they’d hurt him too.

Patton closed his eyes, banging a fist against the concrete statue. Idiot. Why hadn’t he realized--No wonder Logan had fled. How could he feel safe in the apartment when Patton had just spent the day making it uninhabitable to spiders. How could Logan talk to them--to him about the issue when Patton had made it perfectly clear that he--

I hate hate HATE spiders!

“It’s my fault.” He whispered, lifting his head, heart sinking. If he hadn’t freaked out. If he hadn’t had Roman kill--- “LOGAN!” He yelled. “Please! Come back! I’m sor--” He cut off, shoving away from the statue.  

He had to make this right. He had to find his roommate.

But how could he find a spider when it didn’t want to be found?

Why would you want to?

“Keep you safe.”

He rounded a corner. Searching the nearly empty campus. Come on. Come on! Think logically. Logan wasn’t just a spider. He was human too. He was smart. But he was panicking. How much like a spider would he act? How human could he be with his senses clouded from that stupid Mint Lemonade Patton had made?

The Lemonade.

Logan had screamed when it touched him.

It had hurt him.

Oh Crofters.

Patton put on a burst of speed.

He’d hurt Logan. He’d hurt his friend! How could--

Was it painful? Was he dying? HAD HE JUST KILLED LOGAN?!

“LOGAN” Patton screamed over the rumbling thunder. “PLEASE! STOP! COME BACK.”

Why should he? You made it quite clear he isn’t welcomed.

The Human Widow could be anywhere. There was no way to know if he’d even come to the school, let alone which building he could have ducked into. It wasn’t like they could track---

Patton gasped, wiping the rain from his glasses as he stopped under a tree. “Tracking. Our phones!” He frantically patted his pants, pulling the device from a back pocket with trembling fingers.

It had been Virgil’s idea, after the last hurricane, to download an app that would track their phones so in case of an emergency they could know where everyone was.

“Please…” He prayed, fingers trembling as he tapped on the square, watching the screen slowly load.

It won’t work. It’s Logan. He wouldn’t keep it active.

He squeezed his phone, staring at the screen. Please. Logan please. Still have it enabled. Please.

Bing.

Patton laughed, leaning against the tree trunk, staring at the four colored dots that had appeared up on the map. Four.

“Found you.” He whispered as more thunder rumbled overhead, his heart pounding in his chest as he clicked on Logan’s stationary blue dot, activating the GPS to guide him.

He’d been right. Logan was here on Campus. 

“I’m coming, Lo.” Patton promised, once more darting out into the rain, following the arrow on the map. “I’ll make things right.” Somehow. 

To Be Continued Chapter 5

Taglist: @loverofpizzaandallthingssweet @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @redundant-statements-for-400 @aikogumi @depressed-alone @lizziepopanime @midnightcandy @sidewritings @nekoabi @ironwoman359 @ilovereadingandilovebreathing @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @theblackhoundsdaughter @littlemiracle05 @virgil-has-a-houseplant @caristars @seas-space-and-stardust @thedannyparable @faacethefacts @but-jesuschrist-im-never-good @fancydelusionluminary @generalfandomfabulousness @theincediblesulk @i-am-avacado @entitydark @unikornavenger @iris-sanders-athena @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @uniquesoulshatter @made-of-bitterness-and-sarcasm @moltengoldenstardust @sanders-is-awesome @myownhappilyeverafter @dragonsight9 @loving-neko @lucifer-in-my-head  @punsterterry @riley-castillo @sleepyssnail @fandomcrazy899 @fuck-perfection-be-a-mess @yay-cats9 @i-will-physically-fight-you @wisepuma23 @jemthebookworm @analogical-mess @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge @stormcrawler75 @book-of-charlie @just-another-rainbowblog @sparkedawg @kirsten-the-freak @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @saphirestrike @skylagamingfea @ssimplypatton @proudhufflepuff @birdybabybird @quinintheclouds @dementeddracon @thatgaydemigodnerd @countessmissyshort @creativenostalgia @koalaaquabear @heythereprincey @inalandofmythandtimeofmagic @the-incedible-sulk @savingshae @somepostontheinternet @nyamafriend @topiwolf @nonasficcollection @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @ab-artist @oakskull @bihighandgivinghighfives @greenninjagal-blog @trans-demon-king @cocobearthe4th @hells-angel-forever @teacupfulofstarshine @starfly302 @wildhorsewolf @moonstone-puppy @lefaystrent @seaspider10 @midnightmagi @romanasanders @kitycat1 @romanslunchbox @i-sleepygiraffe-love @sidespart @always3charcoaltea @marvelfangeek09 @listenherebuddypal @thebadhalfofafandom @withspaces @justanotherpurplebutterfly @i-am-me-i-am-sam @pheonix-inside-reblogs @battleblaze @awkwardcat @im-a-ban-im-a-bandito @pumpkinminette @ndb-123 @randomprojectedtrashcutie @whatschooldoesntteachyou @fangirlingrightnow44 @ase-cakes @nonyabidness103 @rainbowbowtie @edgy-gremlin @raterina-and-rayla @merlybird500 @enbyamy @notall2gether @fandomloverangel @enby-phoenix @morgantoast @theradicalrainbow @thisblogispattonpending @som3thing-cr3ativ3 @queenannarevenge @dontdeceiveme-dontleaveme @nafsbluebery @no-sleep-gang-posts @m-lt-ng-ld-nst-rd-st @heyhelloitsk @plummeting-and-singing @earths-trying-angel @power-in-plain-sight @forrestwyrm @meglooy @ultimatefandomtrashcan @musicwithalex @madsk3tch @supergirl-prime @mason-does-a-thing @phantom-moonfire @just-perhaps @hiddendreamer67 @burningpersonflapsuitcase @hedgiehoggles @light-it-on-fire @goat-milk87 @stellar-blue-bird @unicorndragon1-2-3 @under-the-blue-moonlight @lunalikesgamesandstuff @no-no-no-no-6 @logansanderslove @rainysharkfreaklover @imaconfusedhuman @kittycake574 @romanthestarstruckqueer @winterrs-child @joaniejustwokeup @txyfrxddy @theitalianscribe @lunarlogix @croftersphoenix @lostchoirchild @sparklerose222 @unevencube2554 @abigail-loves-fanfiction @an-absolute-failure​ @logansanderslove

[lurxof--thxmaw]

－ tags, RELATIONSHIPS.

[ofsigrids]

hello  my dearest fellow writers ! i’m  eden,  my pronouns are  she  /  her  &.  reside  in  the  est  timezone.  i’m  so extremely excited to be here and apologize for this being late & a little vagueish being insanely busy right before christmas. without further ado though let me introduce you in part ( there will be a google doc coming with prettier things trust me! ) to the second love of my life - Sigrid!

synnove karlsen, 25, aryndale, cis-woman. ––– i believe that is sigrid dudley nee thrane, the duchess of limburg. they are twenty five years old and are known to be very captivating & perspicacious, though they can also be very enigmatic & calculative. they remind me of flowers raised from killing fields tended by hands that know their cost, words whispered into the ears of mighty men and to magnificent beasts and the elegance and grace of a wildly capable woman.  tw mentions of death, war

I. ━━ GENERAL.

NAME : sigrid gisela dudley nee thrane . ( if you are a friend you can call her siggy )

AGE : twenty-five. 25

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN : aryndale.

FORMER TITLE / S : none.

CURRENT TITLE / S : lady sigrid dudley, duchess of limburg

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN : scorpio. scorpio sun & taurus moon.

II. ━━ PERSONAL.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : heterosexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : heteromantic

PERSONALITY TYPE : infj, the advocate.

MORAL ALIGNMENT : neutral good borderline true neutral 

HABITS : a knowing look, biting her lip, quiet but extremely detailed observations

SINS : lust  /  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / pride  /  envy  / wrath

III. ━━ TRAITS & PERSONALITY.

cowardly     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ●      brave

energetic    ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○     lethargic

forgiving     ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○      vengeful

charitable     ● ○ ○ ○  ○ ○ ○ ○ ○     selfish

authentic     ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○      deceitful

chaste     ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○      lustful

humble    ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○     boastful

naive     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ●      experienced

cautious     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○      daring

restrained     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○     bold

trusting     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○      suspicious

IV. ━━ PHYSICALITY.

HAIR COLOR : dark brown ( depending on the time of the year it does get lighter )

EYE COLOR : dark brown.

HEIGHT : 5′5.

WEIGHT : 120lbs

BUILD : ectomorph.

ACCENT : slight. vaguely scottish in nature

PITCH : middle register. an appealing almost silvery tone that does get a little melodic when she talks faster but not sing songy

SCARS & BIRTHMARKS : Most noble women have fairly dainty hands, skin unblemished and untarnished by the ravages of hard work. Sigrid’s hand though softer and faded, are scarred. she grew up an orphan in a mountain village taken in my their horse master needless to say sigird grew up knowing a hard days work. Sigrid also served as a scout / spy when aryndale joined the war before she married the duke of limburg so our girl has scars.

V. ━━ BIO  POINTS.

Before there was a great lady of limburg, before a duchess once again wandered the halls of house dudley, before there was title to her name a girl had none. Sigrid had no family, no family name, no relatives to call her own but a simple point of origin. A girl was born for all she knew in the village of thrane high in the mountains. Who her parents were, whose blood ran through veins she couldn't tell you but a babe was taken in by the horse master and his wife. They would raise a young woman to survive her world and she she thrive no matter her start in the world. They would teach her about Aryndale's greatest treasure. Horses.

She grew up learning the secrets of the great beasts, marveling at such magnificent creatures learning she preferred the company of the animals more than people and her adoptive father saw she had a way with the massive animals. Even the most wild and seemingly untamable of mustangs calmed at her touch, continuously risking her life to tame wild horses. In another life Sigrid often wondered if she had been a great mare that had ruled the countryside with a great mob at her back when men did not inhabit these lands just yet as if she were the legends ever aryndale citizen knew. It was no idyllic existence, no wonderful youth like many women of her eventual station would have tales of. It was many years of learning a trade, of toiling with rugged earth and stone to carve out an existence and the expanding of the horse masters influence in the surrounding areas. Weeks were spent on occasion by the side of the hunters leaning the ins and outs of the mountains and its passes and the secret places to find game to feed the village that was her home.  It was many days of whispering words into the ears of massive chargers, the hearty aryndale steed breed for war and peace both filling them with ideas of being legendary and of the things they would one day accomplish even becoming the mount for knights and kings. It was hours of the horse master's wife teaching her etiquette and proper manners despite a girls desire to run off and join a traveling band of merchants or entertained ideas of becoming a warrior. Either way they would ensure she'd be capable of living a lie of her choosing. It was an unfortunate thought they both shared that she'd make no man any real wife destined to be a spinster no matter the attention the boys in the village paid to an orphan girl.  They doubted war would come to pass and the village of Thrane would continue on as it always had and the horse master and his ward would work to supply the nobles of aryndale far and wide the best horses there were and provide their services as farriers, trainers and on occasion as trick riders. Sigrid did love it no matter how hard it was or the challenges every day presented with it would of course give her an edge later in life

She was a fine looking thing at sixteen, a mane of hair as silken as a prince's mare, a backbone to her and the complete availability to do whatever she wish. The threat of war consistently loomed over head like storm clouds that refused to release their rains and with such a close proximity to it potentially. When it did come to the borders of Aryndale her caretakers knew exactly where she would run to. Directly into the thick of things, to war, to serve king and country and protect a village entirely too close to the war. Sigrid lied about her age when she enlisted, declaring she was eighteen and due to the wealth of information she had was placed directly into a scouting position under the charge of duke dudley's son.

Would you believe that in the middle of a war against incredible odds in the thick of danger and death constantly two people were capable of falling in love. Sigrid Thrane as she called herself now, as it had been signed on her contract served as a spy and a scout had more than a dozen times saved her commanding officers life. Three full years was spent in freezing rain, in mud and dirt covered in blood and the constant threat of death together and two universes that had no possibility of colliding before became intertwined. In close quarters the two increasingly sought out each others company. The duke's son would tell her about his home, about the land he was eager to get back to and she would whisper of fairytales, horses and military strategy. They talked about lives after the war if both survived being so close to the front lines and he asked her after three years od serving together and seeing each other at their worst if she'd come back to his home with him. Could Sigrid see a future with the son of a duke? In answer to him she said these exact words. "For three years you have known me now - you knew that I lied about my age in order to fight for Aryndale, you've seen me at my most unattractive self and we've survived much and spoken at great length of dreams and foolish ambitions and how we would make a world better. My question to you Dudley is could you see a future with the daughter of no one?" A week later the two were married, recalled from the front lines for a small leave to celebrate their nuptials.

A choice had to be made and it was a heavy and hard decision to make despite newly wedded bliss. Which of them would return to Limburg and which spouse would go back to the war to serve aryndale and their allies? Despite her husband's protests and desire to keep her with him Sigrid reasoned with the mighty man that she could've have him unnecessarily going out of his way to save her risking the life of others in his command to lose more life. She would go back to his ancestral home without him to an ancient father in law to help aide in a necessary part of the war effort. Feeding their troops, supplying horses and help minimize the already heavy strain of aryndale's resources. Giving a kiss goodbye, Sigrid sent him back to the front lines, to the scouting party he led into dangerous missions to take on an even more monumental task.

Arriving at Limburg it was clear the place wasn't untouched by war, nearly ravished and run down. Villagers hadn't paid takes and had little food that wasn't already given to the troops and her father in law who would resist her aid for a short while was losing his sight and the ability to govern his duchy properly. Rolling up her sleeves, pulling back her hair and with a fierce determination to return the duchy of Limburg to its former glory the new duchess put her heart and soul into restoring her. Sigrid a newly wedded nineteen worked with farming families, with merchants and laborers to not only work down their seemingly insurmountable debts to house dudley without taking food from their children and doubling their annual yield. She worked in the fields scorched by fire and still smelling of death to show that this was as much a fight for nobles and commoners on the home front as it was for their warriors on the front lines in defense of their nation. Sigrid won them over, every last soul her husband would eventually have charge over and in the end even her father in law called her his most beloved daughter and a blessing to his house. Sigrid too would help where she could acting for the man to carry messages, to provide suggestions and strategies she'd offer forward as the old man's before it was noted they came from the young duchess proving herself an invaluable asset to the crown and the war effort much to the honor of house dudley.

It would be six years until the war would halt, six years for her husband to return and know the struggles she faced in the aryndale interior but the flowers risen from killing fields, grown out of soil that had seen blood and tears and his wife's hard labor to fix it and the lives of those in the duchy of limburg. Understandably there is some distance between the two as there are only so many letters that can sustain a marriage and they have barely laid together more than a few times in the entirety of their wedded lives. They’ve changed as individuals - they are strangers now really learning about one another again despite shared experiences. Here away from their home in the neutral zone this is a new realm of existence for her. The world in which she became a lady and fought tirelessly on front lines and to restore her husbands holdings was one where the definition of lady was altered. Rules here are different and she is a different. A relative unknown to all despite a select few she was involved with regarding the war effort they will soon know her.  Ever a most captivating woman she  breaths life into all she does Sigrid is bound to traverse these uncharted waters and make a splash. Truthfully perhaps they should be afraid those who know nothing of her as she will reveal nothing to them but sees more than those who were raised in this life of princesses and politics. Lady Dudley, despite how unsure of this new territory she is will do what is necessary. Sigrid will help her king and husband make a success of this even if she’s an unpolished lady with much to learn about really being one beyond a few etiquette lessons. 

VI.      ━━  CHARACTER RELATIONS. ( more to be added )

UNKNOWN  (  father,  deceased?  ).

UNKNOWN   (  mother,  deceased?  ).

HORSE MASTER BURGRED  (  caretaker/adoptive father, unknown  ).

ALFRIEDA (  caretaker/adoptive mother,  unknown  ).

DUKE  AERON DUDLEY (  husband; 28+,  wc! name can be changed  ).

VII.      ━━  WANTED  CONNECTIONS.

Again like Altain all the things! I will have specific wanted connections on the google doc that is taking me forever and a day but I’m a firm believer in brainstorming something special to highlight both characters and help build this gorgeous world so please hit me up!

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 47

Okay, we made it through the first six hours of the food festival, now for Sophia’s shift on the ground. I’ll be honest, when I started writing this chapter, all the characters just ganged up on me and decided to do whatever they wanted...

Needless to say, the results are interesting.  From what I can tell, no one is plotting nefariously in the background this time.

This chapter is dedicated to @parisconstantine, as always, for being an amazing beta and putting up with my shenanigans.  Also, @charlylimph-blog for Charly Harper, along with Coffee Williams, who was mentioned in the previous chapter.

Deep breaths, I reminded myself as I got ready to go back on shift for the festival.  This time, I would be in the crowd instead of holed up in my office, safe from the crush of humanity. GK will be there, I repeated for what had to be the hundredth time. So will Conor and Maverick.  It’s safe. Nothing’s happened yet, and it stands to reason that nothing will. I had been repeating the words in my mind like a prayer for the last hour, refusing to bow out of my responsibilities as a Councillor.  I could do this – I had to be able to do this.

Finally, I cracked a little. “Good Evening, Miys,” I asked the air hesitantly.  I was trying to be more polite and treat them the way I would treat another human. Results had varied. “Do I need to go to a medbay to get a mild sedative for anxiety, or am I allowed to get it from my console?”

“Good evening, Wisdom,” the reply hummed quietly. “Since it is a standard prescription in your medical file, you can request a half dose every four hours, or the full dose will otherwise be added to your meals. Since you are attending a public eating event, it is noted that you should take the half dose before the event and the other half after if needed.  Kim was notified to advise you when she arrived.  She also has moderate override authority should she judge that you need additional medication after the event, so long as Antoine Costa approves it himself.”

I felt both relieved and stung at the same time, like a too-old bandage being ripped off.  Conflicting feelings aside, I didn’t hesitate to request the medication from my console along with a glass of water to wash it down. “Miys, can you please notify Grandma Kim that I already took the half dose with you as witness? I don’t want her to think I’m trying to get out of my medications.” I was pretty bad about doing that as it was, so the odds of her believing me that I actually requested the dose were pretty slim.

“Yes, Wisdom.  I have notified her.”

“Thank you, Miys.”

“It is our… pleasure?”

“Pleasure means you gained enjoyment satisfaction from performing a task, rather than simply performing it out of obligation.”

“Then yes, it is our pleasure.”

I settled down on my couch as I waited for the rest of my ‘team’ to arrive.  I waited for Mac to bounce into my lap like he always did, but he was nowhere to be found. Probably begging food at the festival, the pig, I chuckled.  If he gained much more weight, I’d have to send out a ship-wide announcement that he was on a strict diet and not to feed him no matter how cute he was.  That, or send Mac to the quarters of whoever kept feeding him cheese and let them deal with the biological warfare that resulted.

“Maybe I can send the entire ship a video of Mac being treated, again, for obstructed bowel,” I mused at the thin air just as the door to my quarters chimed.  As expected, my two guard-shadows flanked a deceptively-normal looking older woman, the tableau completed by the enormous German Shepherd giving me a doggy grin at her feet.

With a look of pure mischief in his eyes, Maverick opened his mouth to say something.  Grandma Kim, however, beat him to the punch. “Two sides of beef in shining armor, delivered as promised,” she quipped without batting an eyelash.

The astonishment on the men’s faces snapped the last bit of tension in me and I started howling with laughter. Lyric was quick to support me as I went to my knees, unable to breathe from shrieking in amusement.  Unperturbed, GK left her two victims at the door and just stepped around me to get herself some tea.  “Are you released to drink coffee, love?” she called over her shoulder as though I wasn’t gasping and dripping tears on her dog.

I managed to give a thumbs-down and shake my head, hoping she could see.  Slowly, I got my breathing under control and wobble to my feet, face hurting from smiling so hard. “God, I needed that,” I chuckled, wiping the last tears from my cheeks. Glancing at the door, I noticed Conor and Maverick were still standing there, thunderous scowls in the place of their usual grins.  “Oh, come on, you goobers.  Stop being such sourpusses and get in here.”

Conor relented first, groaning and dropping his head back as he stomped into my quarters like a toddler.  Maverick finally shook his head at the other man’s theatrics and padded in, allowing the door to slide shut behind him.  He spoke first. “I thought you were supposed to be released to drink coffee today?”

“I technically am.” Looking down, I twisted my fingers and focused on my feet.  “But I’m nervous about all the people, and I couldn’t calm myself down for the past hour, so I took half a dose of my sedative a few minutes ago.  I don’t want the caffeine to get me keyed up and jittery again.”

I felt Grandma Kim pat me on the arm. “Well then,” she said softly before putting a warm mug in my hand. “Ginger lemon tea, it is.”  I took the mug and sipped it, grateful to have something to do with my hands as I walked over to where Conor had already slung himself across my couch.

As soon as I was close enough, he hooked an arm around my waist and tugged me next to him.  Without thinking, I snuggled into his side so he would stroke my hair. “Sophie, everything on Beta shift was smooth as glass.  I’ll be with you, this eejit will be there,” he gestured floridly at Maverick, who had just sprawled on the other side of me. “Xiomara will be on the ground, so will these two fine ladies.” He pointed at Grandma Kim and Lyric for emphasis.  The effect was somewhat undone by the fact that Lyric had chose that moment to lick a certain portion of her anatomy.  Rolling his eyes but not missing a beat, Conor continued. “None of us will let you get hurt, swear.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s nervous, Sophie,” Maverick added, reaching over to tap my chin. “We’re scared something is going to happen to you, that’s why we wanted to be there.  Yeah, we know logically that GK and Lyric are perfectly capable of keeping you safe.  But emotionally? We need to see it for ourselves.”  He paused to shoot a glare over my shoulder. “Shut up. She needs to hear this more than you need your dumb pride, Conor.” After another moment of silence, Maverick looked back to me. “Look.  We both already did our shifts. We could stay behind if we wanted, no foul. If we did, though, we’d worry to death about you until we barged down there, forced our way through the crowd, and probably scared the life out of you by abducting you to make sure you were okay.  May as well just be there from the outset and save ourselves from pissing you off.”

A glance back at Conor showed him biting his lip in embarrassment, a dead giveaway that Maverick was right.  I managed – barely – not to snort at the picture Maverick painted, only saved by how touched I was by their concern.  Squeezing both their knees, I smiled.  “Glad to know I’m not the only nervous wreck.”

Between the medication and the knowledge that my shadows were just as worried as I was, I managed to make it all the way to the area of the festival before I balked again. I silently thanked the medication I had chosen to take, knowing that I would be much worse off without it. Deep breaths. “Okay, crowd or no crowd, there is food in there, and I’m going to have some,” I said aloud, mainly to myself.

Just then, my data band chirped with a familiar voice. “Delta Shift, please report when you are online.”

“Sophia Reid, Resource Observation, online and en route to relieve Eino Wiitala and Evania Josue.” I managed to sound calm.

“Grandma Kim and Lyric, Crowd Control, online.” She quirked an eyebrow and smirked at me.

“Maverick Okima, Support Personnel, online and en route to relieve Eino Wiitala and Evania Josue.”

“Conor MacMaoilir, Support Personnel, online and en route to relieve Eino Wiitala and Evania Josue.”

“Wait, what the hell?” I gaped. “I thought GK was my support?”

She shook her head with a chuckle.  “Misters Okima and MacMaoilir convinced me to let them register as your support, so that they could keep a better watch on you. I’ll still be close by, as we have the same route, but this frees me up to act as crowd control if you are safe and there is an issue that needs to be addressed nearby.”

I whirled around to face the two men behind me. “And what exactly do you plan to do if I’m attacked?” I asked scathingly.

Unimpressed, Conor pointed at Maverick first. “Pick you up and take you to a safe location.” He reoriented his finger to himself. “Restrain the attacker until Xio’s people arrive.  You tend to overlook the fact that I’m one of the bigger feckers on this boat, and as much as I don’t like to, I can beat the breaks of a body if I need to.” With a pointed look that he clearly picked up from my sister, he dared me to argue.

“Whatever,” I grumbled, refusing to admit defeat. Instead, I squared my shoulders, chin up, and turned toward the festival.  “Okay, food. Let’s find Eino and Evan and get this show on the road.”

We managed to find the pair without incident, although Grandma Kim had to wrangle Conor away from a few vendors and remind him that we need to relieve Gamma Shift first.  Finally, we were ready for handoff, and both shifts held our collective breaths.

True to her nature, Xiomara had already spent Gamma Shift as Crowd Control Command, but was handing off to Simon as Resource Command for Delta.  When I had questioned her about working two sessions back to back, she had simply waggled her eyebrows at me. No rest for the wicked, Sophia, she had laughed. She wasn’t laughing quite so much now.

“Xiomara Kalloe, Crowd Control for Delta Shift, online.  Also, as Crowd Control Command for Gamma Shift, reporting for handoff to Resource Command. Simon, confirm handoff?”

“Simon Rodriguez, Delta Shift Resource Command, confirming handoff.”

Xiomara shook her head with a scowl before turning a bright smile towards me. “I don’t think I’ll ever get use to him being back on the Council.  How are you?” Briefly, she held and squeezed my shoulders – her version of an arms-reach hug.

“I’m okay,” I exhaled. “Still not sure I’m ready to be around so many people, but if I can’t be safe with so much security around, when can I be?”

“Truth,” she nodded before turning to my ersatz guards. “Conor, Maverick.  Good to see you two.  I know Sophia is here in an official capacity, but please make sure she has some fun.  Stuff her full of food, take her to the pub, whole shebang.”

“You’ve got it, Commander,” Maverick saluted crisply. Some habits died hard, and he refused to stop treating Xio as his commanding officer.  She took it with as much grace as she could muster, which wasn’t much. She’d stopped scolding him, though, so that was something.

The next several hours after that were a whirlwind of flavors and smells, briefly punctuated by stops in the various quiet rooms. Conor and Maverick took turns dragging me to the different vendors they had discovered on their previous shifts.  Some of the foods offered could only be described as artistry: an amuse-bouche that still managed to capture the flavor of an entire bowl of ramen, meat with actual marbling, bubbles of soup that exploded in your mouth. Several times, they had to haul me away from badgering the vendors for their secrets.

My data band showed we were just over halfway through our shift as the men dragged me into one of the Green quiet rooms.  “You don’t understand how hard it is to get properly marbled prosciutto from the consoles!” I argued for the fifth time as they gently shoved me onto a beanbag.

“Probably not, but I understand that you need some water,” Conor insisted.  “We’re glad you’re having fun, believe me, but Tyche gave us strict instructions not to let you get overwhelmed.  And before you say you aren’t, your hands are shaking and you started swaying a bit back there.”

“Fine,” I sulked, gracious as a toddler.  “You’re all conspiring, I just know it.”

“Yep,” Maverick agreed cheerfully. “We’re conspiring to make you take care of yourself.” With that, he dropped a bottle of water in my lap.  “Drink, please.  At least half.”

Grumbling, I opened the bottle and took a swig. “Big talk coming from the guy who requires a prescription to eat.”

“Sophie,” Conor scolded. “That’s low, and you know it.”

My immediate shame showed how right he was. “I’m sorry, Maverick. That wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t,” my target confirmed. “But, you and Antoine did that to make sure I took care of myself.  Now, Conor and I are doing the same.  Just the fact that you’re being such a brat shows that you need a break.”

I gaped for a second before snapping my mouth shut.  Maverick had a point – he usually did, much to my frequent consternation.  When he started spending more time around, a bit of digging in his file showed that he shared the same Clarity I possessed, but it was by and far his strongest trait.  Where Conor was too kind to call me on my bullshit, Maverick had no such compunctions. That, combined with a startling lack of self-preservation, was largely the reason Tyche and I had swept him up in our family.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Maverick started humming as he looked around the room.  Suddenly, he whirled around with one finger jutting out in weaponized precision. “Conor. You designed this room, didn’t you?”

With narrowed eyes, the other man answered slowly. “Yeaahhh, I helped… why?”

Maverick reached out to flick a vine of what looked like green bubbles. “String of pearls. My aunt grew these.  They’re difficult to get this big.”

“They’re succulents, yeah,” Conor started warming to the topic. “They didn’t take well to hydroponics, and the aeroponics were incredibly finicky.  We had to design a completely new setup for them.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” I turned my head, wide eyed.  “You just showed up with them.”

He blushed slightly. “There wasn’t any point in figuring out how to grow them if no one would see them,” he admitted. “But they’re poisonous to cats, so I couldn’t put any in your quarters or Tyche’s.”

“Oh. I think I would kill them, anyway,” I admitted. “I’ve never been good with succulents.”

“That, too,” he winked at me.

After a few more minutes of idle conversation, we braved the crushing throng of humanity in the corridor again. We had barely made it twenty feet before Conor tugged on my hand and steered Maverick by the shoulder to a stall.  I assumed it was to try another tidbit of the wares the festival was centered around, but to my surprise, he walked up to a tall black gentleman in a pink, short sleeved shirt. Just before we reached them, he called out cheerfully. “Coffee!  Is that Charly with you?”

The man – who had to be Coffee Williams – turned around with a broad smile, as did the petite brunette next to him. “Conor! Good to see you, man,” he chuckled, clapping a hand to Conor’s shoulder. He glanced at me and Maverick. “Miss Sophia, it is delightful to finally meet you.  And you must be Maverick Okima.”  He gently squeezed my hand in both of his larger ones before giving Maverick a firm handshake.  He gently – almost reverently – brought the young woman with him to stand in front of him. She glanced down nervously and started rubbing her hands on her skirt.  “Sophia, Maverick, this is Charly Harper.”

She shot a look up at me and glanced at the shortest of the three men present. “It’s nice to meet you,” she nodded before turning, the delicate smile brightening her face again. “Hi, Conor.  I’m glad we ran into you.”  When she tipped her head back to see Conor’s face, and I caught a glimpse of something brown circling her throat.

“Oh! Is that a new collar?” Conor asked with genuine enthusiasm as he crouched to get a better look.  She obligingly kept her head tipped slightly back so he could see better before standing back up again. “That’s beautiful!  Well done.”  The second part of that seemed directed at Coffee, and I puzzled at that before suddenly something clicked in my head.

Oh. “May I see?” I asked politely. She glanced up at her companion before giving me a nod and tipping her head for me.  To err on the side of good manners, I made a point not to touch the collar.  “Oh, wow… that’s really lovely.”  I wasn’t exaggerating.  It looked softer than butter, in a warm brown leather with an intricate pattern worked into it.  It was clearly made by hand.

“I’m sorry, what – “

“We’ll explain later,” I cut off Maverick as gently as possible. “I promise.  But I assure you, it’s very pretty.” The last was directed at Charly and Coffee.  The latter nodded his thanks, although I wasn’t sure if it was for complimenting the collar or for keeping their business private.

Charly suddenly bounced a bit.  “Oh! You three should try this stall! It’s chocolate, all kinds.  Milk, dark, plain, fancy, you name it! They swear they have chocolate for every taste on the ship.”

Conor and Maverick groaned in unison before shaking their heads at Coffee.  Charly looked confused before I shot her a shark-like grin.  “I love trying new flavors.  Challenge Accepted!”

<< Prev  Masterlist  Next >>

[artificialqueens]

intents wicked or charitable (trixya) 7/10 - beanierose

AN: validation station, you ladies brighten my days and i’m so proud of all of you. and stutter, my love, i couldn’t do it without you. i’m so grateful and so thrilled to know you.

(read on ao3) | (find me at katiehoughton)

[one.] [two.] [three.] [four.] [five.] [six.]

a practical magic au for the spooky season. there’s a curse on any man who dares love you? love a woman, instead. | 5,680 words

“How could you do this to me?”

Trixie stays right where she is on the ground. The snow is soaking through the ass of her pants and getting inside of her boots so that her socks feel unpleasantly wet. Her face is red and everything keeps going blurry. She blinks to clear her vision again and a tear escapes her, slides hot down the salt-raw curve of her cheek.

“Honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Katya is standing over her, red scarf wound twice around her neck so that it obscures half of her face as well.

“You hurt me.” Trixie lets the wail bleed out into her voice a little bit. She’s got her fists balled up inside her gloves so that the empty fingers flop limply when she moves her hands. She’s not crying, not really. Her eyes are just watering because her face stings.

Katya kneels down next to her and tucks her hair back. The tips of her ears are pink with the cold and Trixie finds herself fixated on the right one, which is folded over into a little point. Katya calls it her pixie ear. She sighs when Trixie seeks it out with her teeth and lips and tongue, but she always lets her and it always makes a moan stutter out of her very quietly.

“Trixie, baby, it was an accident. I’m so sorry.”

Her face is white with horror and her hands are hovering over Trixie like she’s not sure she’s allowed to touch. It’s not fun anymore. Trixie shakes off the last of her snit and reaches for Katya, fists both hands in the lapels of her coat to haul her in close.

She lets out a little squeak of surprise as she goes and Trixie kisses the noise right from her mouth. She’s the one to deepen things, the one to touch her tongue to the seam of Katya’s lips. It’s not a comfortable position, on her ass on the snow covered ground and Katya balancing herself with a hand at her thigh. Katya’s mouth is hot and wet and lovely and Trixie wants to keep kissing her. Her whole body feels strung out with need, pulled taut.

“Mm, Trixie, wait.” Katya is the one to break the kiss. It doesn’t feel time to break it, and Trixie keens low in her throat. “Do you concede? Are you defeated?”

“You hit me in the face,” Trixie says, and then steals another kiss.

It’s her own fault. She’s the one who started it. Katya had been pottering around with the chickens, watching them fussing over the warm oatmeal that they get now that the cold is unending and pervasive. She is endlessly delighted by how much it confuses them and she loves to set the dish down and then stay with them for a while. Trixie leaves her to it, most times, and every now and then Katya will turn over her shoulder and grin at her about it.

Today, Trixie took advantage of Katya’s distraction and hit her right between the shoulder blades with a snowball. It made her jerk upright on a yelp, in time to see Trixie breaking away from the house and taking off at a run. She has a bench out in the backyard and she had hooked her arm around one of the posts that supports it and used the momentum to whip around and crouch down behind it for cover.

She had busied herself forming as many tightly compact balls in the snow as she could, peeking up over the back of the bench every so often. Katya had taken a minute to stop reeling. It gave Trixie time to raise up a little more and launch another snowball at her. It had landed perfectly and hit Katya square in the solar plexus. The shock of it had made her take a few stumbling steps backward.

“Trixie!” she had yelled, affronted, and immediately dropped to the ground to start forming an arsenal of her own.

She’d gotten distracted then and let herself have a moment to watch Katya, felt her heart do a slow turn in her chest. Trixie favoured quantity, wanted to have as many snowballs as possible, but Katya took a different tack. It worked out better for her. Her shots were accurate every time, where most of Trixie’s crumpled mid-flight and sprayed Katya with powdery snow rather than actually hitting her.

She knows Katya didn’t mean to hit her in the face. She was mostly just being dramatic and a bit of a brat when she let the force of it knock her onto her ass. It’s worth it for how gentle Katya is being with her now. She helps Trixie to her feet and keeps a tight hold of one of her hands. The other comes up to settle at the back of her neck and Katya’s freezing fingertips tuck inside the band of Trixie’s beanie.

“I’m sorry I hit you in the face. I know your face is very important to you.”

“My face is very important to you,” Trixie says back. “Where else are you gonna sit?”

Every time Katya kisses her, it feels a little like the first time. They’re comfortable together — Trixie knows exactly what Katya likes and what will get her to bite out a tiny moan — but she still can’t quite believe that they actually get to do this now. The leftover adrenaline from their snowball fight is making her a little aggressive. Trixie’s tongue seeks Katya’s, slicking into her mouth, and she grabs clumsily at her in her gloves.

Their kiss burns itself out naturally because they’re both shivering now that they’ve stopped moving. Katya’s cradling Trixie’s face in both hands and her fingers are freezing but her palms are warm and her breath is too, where it skims Trixie’s cheek. Snow has gathered along the tops of her shoulders and in her hair like static and it makes her ethereal and electric.

Trixie wants to bury her face in the warm creases at Katya’s neck. She can’t quite manage that, not with Katya’s enormous wool scarf in the way. Instead she wraps her arms around her and clings tight, their bodies aligned from shoulder to knee. Katya lets them have a few moments of hushed awe in which she only fidgets a tiny bit.

“You okay, mama?” she asks when Trixie lets her wriggle out of their hug.

Trixie doesn’t hurry into her answer. There’s a lot she still hasn’t said. She’s thinking it, all of the time. In the early mornings when she wakes up for just a moment and opens one eye to see Katya sitting up against the headboard with a novel against her thighs. In the evenings when Katya insists on helping Trixie make dinner, which mostly means snacking on the ingredients Trixie is trying to prep and kissing her when she gets grouchy about it. Sometimes Trixie opens her mouth, and then she remembers Katya telling her I’m scared and she closes it again.

“Yeah. Happy.”

Katya makes a disgusted noise and screws her face up. She’s got one hand tucked into Trixie’s pocket and she wriggles it there to make her laugh.

“I think we should go inside.” She darts a glance just over Trixie’s shoulder and Trixie turns to look as well, sees Dolly’s dark head in the window and her eyes baleful on them. “I think your benevolent spirit is getting jealous.”

The dog hates the snow and absolutely refuses to go outside in it more than she has to. Whenever Trixie opens the back door for Dolly to use the bathroom she pitches a fit and whines and shivers for a good half hour afterward. If Katya’s there, she’ll gather Dolly up in her arms and rock her like an infant, muttering to her in Russian.

Trixie’s not jealous of her dog. That would be absurd.

They head for the back door stumbling and snow-drunk, clutching at one another like teenagers. Trixie almost trips over one of the chickens but Katya’s holding tight to her hand and she won’t let her fall down. At the back door, Trixie looks over her shoulder to see the crooked step of their twin footprints. Katya is already inside, so she lets herself have a tiny moment to smile to herself about it without being teased.

It’s nice to have somebody else in the house. They don’t always have to be on top of one another. It’s good to just exist in the same space and be peripherally aware of one another. Most evenings Trixie busies herself fixing them dinner and she likes knowing that Katya is right in the next room, reading or fussing over Dolly or sometimes doing yoga. Trixie will often leave whatever she’s cooking to simmer on the stovetop and go to find Katya, take the novel out of her hands and leave her thumb tucked inside to mark the page while she kisses her.

This afternoon she’s listening to music. Trixie doesn’t have a CD player. Katya keeps threatening to get her one, but for now she has the radio. Katya fiddles with it constantly, changing stations as soon as she gets bored with a song, which is usually immediately after the first chorus. There’s a stew in the crockpot, but it isn’t quite time to make the dropped dumplings just yet. She wipes down the countertops and puts the peelings from the vegetables into the little caddy she keeps for composting.

It isn’t snowing anymore, but the gunmetal sky is low over the earth and it could start again at any moment. Trixie is looking forward to their evening, lighting a fire and snuggling up on the couch. Katya can be coaxed into letting Trixie hold her if she feeds her something carbohydrate-rich and warm and then eats her out slowly. Once or twice she’s even fallen asleep with her head against Trixie’s shoulder or in her lap.

“Trixie, come look at this,” Katya calls from the living room.

Trixie can see her through the archway. She’s standing by the window with one hand up against the glass, her fingerprints leaving little smudges in the condensation. She’s taken all of her winter layers off and she has the bottom of her jeans tucked into her socks and her sweater pushed up past her elbows. Trixie’s chest is tight with how badly she wants to hold her, and how grateful she is that she gets to.

“Mm, just a minute,” she says back. There are a couple of dishes waiting in the sink that she wants to tackle before she lets herself get lost in Katya for the rest of the day.

“Trixie!”

The panic in Katya’s voice makes her head snap up. Katya has whipped around to look at her and her face is pale and slack like a death mask. Before Trixie can get her mouth open to ask what’s wrong, Katya rushes right past her into the mudroom and steps hastily into her galoshes. She’s frantic in a way Trixie hasn’t ever seen before and it makes her nauseated right down into the pit of her stomach.

“What is it, babe?”

“It’s Cash. Oh God. It’s Cash.”

Trixie can hear him, now.

The goats are noisy a lot of the time. She’s gotten used to their irate bleating whenever they encounter something that displeases them, which seems to be once every half a minute or so. They’re often cantankerous towards each other and Trixie mostly tunes out the loud bleats that she can hear all the way inside the house whenever they butt heads.

This isn’t like that. It’s a thin, reedy, sustained note of panic that cuts right through the core of Trixie and upwards so she feels it into her teeth. She’s cleaved in two by it. Trixie pulls her boots on as quickly as she can over her thick wool socks and hurries outside in them, unlaced.

Katya has beat her to Cash and she’s on her knees in the snow next to him. He’s lying sprawled on his side like a rag doll dropped from a great height and his foreleg is bent at an unnatural angle. Trixie presses the back of her hand to her mouth and takes a couple of ragged breaths in through her nose.

The goat is writhing on the cold ground, scrabbling to try and get up, but Katya holds him in place with the flat of her palm. With her other hand she touches her fingers very lightly to Cash’s leg and he cries out and rears against her.

“Oh my God. What happened?” There’s no response and Trixie closes the distance in a couple of strides and knuckles the back of Katya’s head to get her attention. “Katya. What happened?”

She doesn’t look up at Trixie. Her eyes are roaming all over Cash and her hands too, busying at him like there’s something she can do. “He was climbing on the truck again, and he got onto the roof. I guess it was too icy, I don’t know-”

They’re both wailing now, Katya and the goat. Trixie kneels down too and Cash lolls his head towards her. The whites of his eyes are showing and his nostrils are flared with his fast breathing. Trixie can’t stand to see him hurting. She bows over him like that can shield him, like the warmth of her body over his will heal him.

“He slipped?”

“He slipped, he fell.” Katya has gotten herself together a little bit and she lifts her head to meet Trixie’s eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.” Trixie’s voice comes out in pieces. She can smell adrenaline and she swipes uselessly at her cheeks with the pads of her fingers. A few tears drop onto Cash’s flank. “Katya, I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”

“Stay right here with him, honey. It’ll comfort him to have you close.”

Katya disappears inside the house. When Trixie lifts her head to watch her go she sees Guthrie a couple of feet away, watching. His head is low and he’s toeing anxiously at the frozen ground. Cash is still mewling and Trixie strokes his head over and over, murmuring softly to him.

Katya comes back with a sheet from the linen closet which she unfolds, and Trixie helps her ease it beneath Cash as carefully as they can. The snow helps to cushion him a bit, but he still cries out when they have to bring the sheet beneath his broken leg. Katya’s got the keys to the truck as well and she unlocks it. It’s a graceless, cruel production to get Cash into the cab of the truck.

In the driver’s seat Trixie swipes at her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater. There isn’t really room for the three of them on the bench seat, so Katya’s got Cash’s back legs in her lap. She’s twisted to lean over him and she’s muttering something that Trixie can’t really hear. She gets like this sometimes, with all of the animals. Her voice is melodious and whatever she’s reciting calms them immediately. More than once, Trixie has fallen asleep on the couch with Katya at her feet whispering to the dog.

“Do you know a vet? I don’t have one here yet, I don’t-”

“Let’s go to my house.”

Katya’s voice has an edge to it that Trixie hasn’t ever heard before. She looks at her, at the set of her jaw and the two little creases between her brows, and she knows better than to argue. Trixie drives as smoothly as she possibly can, but every time they go over a bump or a pothole in the back roads Cash whines. His breathing is easing with Katya’s continued muttering and the gentle brush of both of her hands along his flank and his head.

At the house she jumps out before Trixie has even cut the engine. It’s even worse getting Cash back out of the truck and up the porch steps. He isn’t heavy, but even doing their best not to jostle him he’s writhing in agony by the time they make it inside. Katya’s walking backwards and she doesn’t have to turn over her shoulder, makes a clear path through to the kitchen without smacking into the wall or tripping over anything.

Trixie feels foggy and disoriented with panic. She lets Katya tell her what to do and she sits on the floor with Cash’s head in her lap while Katya rummages around in the cabinets. Trixie can’t lift her eyes from the goat to see what Katya’s gathering, so it startles her when she kneels down next to her on the kitchen floor.

She’s got a mortar and pestle filled with herbs and a couple of things Trixie doesn’t recognise at all, and a roll of Ace bandage. Katya starts grinding everything into a paste. She has her eyes closed and she’s muttering again, still. Once it’s done, she uses her fingers to apply it in a thick layer over Cash’s leg. It’s purplish-green and smells a little like chamomile. There’s no break in the skin. Trixie can’t understand how an ointment is going to help.

“What are you doing? He needs to see a vet. Katya.”

Trixie watches Katya wind the bandage around and around Cash’s leg. He’s nosing curiously at it, trying to lick the salve, and she gently nudges his face away over and over until she’s got the bandage secured. His breathing is starting to even out in the warmth of Katya’s kitchen, but his eyes are still wide and darting.

“It needs ten minutes or so like that. You want tea?”

“I don’t- what’s happening right now?” Trixie presses the heel of her palm to her forehead. There’s a headache blooming in a livid burst behind her left eye socket. Katya is fussing with the kettle, and all of Trixie’s leftover adrenaline comes tumbling out. “Katya, stop ignoring me. What are you doing?”

Katya sets the kettle on the burner to boil. Her shoulders are up around her ears. Trixie watches her take a steadying breath, another, and then she turns to look at her. There’s a little smudge of black eyeliner beneath her eye and the lines of her lipstick are blown out and cracking from kissing Trixie all morning in the snow.

“You remember what Tom said to you the first day you met me?”

They’ve talked about it a little. Trixie is made brave by the darkness, and most nights she lies on her back with Katya tucked against her side in a haphazard tangle of limbs, and she spills all of her secrets. She’s talked about her life before she was here, in Wisconsin and in Los Angeles. She’s talked about longing and loneliness, told Katya how glad she is to have her. Warmed her cold fingers against Katya’s stomach.

“Yes I remember. I don’t have dementia. I’m not you.”

It’s a weak joke, and she doesn’t get a laugh. Instead, Katya gives her a tiny, tiny nod. “It’s real, Trix. It’s true.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Trixie says. She’s still on the floor with Cash and she’s suddenly disoriented by the jarring height discrepancy. Trixie gets to her feet and her knees click as she straightens. “That’s not funny. Shut up.”

“It’s not supposed to be funny. I wouldn’t joke about this. Not with you.”

“No.” Trixie shakes her head to try and dispel the ringing in her ears. Her pulse is pounding everywhere, all over. She feels overripe, like her skin is going to split open at her wrists and the base of her throat and the insides of her elbows. “No you’re not.”

Katya gives her a somber smile. She’s holding her hands in front of herself and her fingers are knotted together. “I am. Well, I’m a znakharka, technically. A folk healer.”

“Katya, stop it. It’s not cute.”

Instead of saying anything else, Katya leans forward over the island. She has a collection of pillar candles in the middle. Each one is a different colour and they drip their wax onto an assortment of peculiar dishes. Katya blows out one long, steady breath and a flame stutters to life at each of the five wicks. She raises her eyes to Trixie, then. The sun seems to have set very suddenly and the darkness up against the windows is making her claustrophobic. At her feet, Cash lets out a little bleat.

“Please stop,” Trixie says. She’s backed herself up against the cabinets without realising it and the edge of the countertop is pressing uncomfortably against the base of her spine.

The kettle starts whistling and Katya gets out two cups and a pot. She brews loose leaf, always, and she pours the hot water through the metal infuser. Trixie has her hands either side of her hips, clutching at the counter to stay standing. She feels pinned in place and stripped bare. Katya gives the tea some time to steep and then pours it into their cups. She adds a splash of milk to Trixie’s tea and sets a dainty little spoon inside. It starts stirring around and around the circumference of the cup, and when Katya lifts her hands it continues on by itself.

“Katya, please, stop it. Please.” She’s on the edge of tears, and it feels like she’s been crying all day and couldn’t possibly have anything left, but she does.

Katya folds her hands together again neatly. The spoon clatters loudly against the side of the cup and Trixie flinches badly and bites down hard on the side of her tongue. All of the candles go out at once. There are deep swathes of shadow beneath Katya’s eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks. She’s beautiful, of course, but it’s like Trixie’s seeing her for the first time all over again.

“I’m so sorry,” Katya whispers.

“You lied to me.”

Trixie is humiliated by the tremble in her voice. There’s a hot iron taste in her mouth that won’t go away no matter how many times she swallows roughly. The solid edge of the countertop is still pressing hard into her lumbar spine but it’s a good pain, a grounding pain. Her breath is coming in these tight little gasps so that she doesn’t cry.

“I didn’t lie.” Katya comes around the counter. There’s a tiny squeak, like a small and petrified animal, and Trixie realises with a rush of cold shame that it was her. Katya stops where she stands and shows Trixie her palms. “I’ve never lied to you, honey. I just…I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

“That’s the same thing!”

The hurt is reworking itself. Trixie feels it pouring outward from the centre of her chest, livid-hot so that it makes her ball her hands into tight fists. She keeps trying over and over to take a centering breath but each one comes out wetter and more shallow than the last. Katya is watching her, unmoving. It isn’t like she’s spooked or caught in a snare. She is perfectly calm; it’s Trixie who feels ready to gnaw off her own foot.

“You let me walk around town defending you. You let me- oh my God. I yelled at people for you. You let everyone laugh at me behind my back.”

Katya takes another tentative step towards Trixie. Their two cups of tea are left immediately abandoned on the kitchen island. Since they first met, Trixie has been awestruck over and over by how tiny Katya often seems. She’s spent as much time holding her as Katya will let her have. Now, it seems calculated. Like Katya has set herself up to seem vulnerable, when all along it’s Trixie who has been in danger.

“No one’s been laughing at you.”

“Of course they have.” Trixie is trying very hard not to yell. She has lost many arguments in her life because as soon as she lets her anger sweep through her she starts crying. She can’t hold her own with tears coursing down her ruddy cheeks and dripping from her chin. “I’m the only fucking idiot in this whole town who couldn’t see you for what you are.”

Katya’s crying now too. Even like this, she’s lovely. The tip of her nose is pink and her eyes are shiny and more grey than usual. She’s stopped trying to approach Trixie and they’re standing facing one another, Trixie backed against the cabinets and Katya leaning on the island.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”

Cash is on the ground between them. He lets out a little bleat and Trixie looks down to see him getting slowly to his feet. He babies his hurt leg, cautious with his weight, but as soon as he tries to stand properly he realises that it isn’t hurting anymore. His ears swivel to point forwards and he takes a few careful steps. He nudges his head into Katya’s thigh and she reaches down blindly to pet him, her eyes still on Trixie.

Katya crouches to unwind the bandage from Cash’s leg. She can barely hold him still while she does, because curiosity at being in a new place is winning out now that his pain is gone. As soon as Katya lets him go he careens off around the other side of the island to nose at every unfamiliar smell in the kitchen.

“He’s- you…how did you do that.”

“It’s mostly about intention.” Katya is gnawing anxiously on her bottom lip. She’s folded the two ends of the bandage in on themselves so the salve doesn’t make a mess but she seems reluctant to throw it in the garbage. “A lot of it is herbology, connecting with the earth, all that. It’s hard to explain. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“You made a fool of me.”

Katya’s face goes slack and her mouth opens. She’s still crying a little but it doesn’t seem like she’s even aware of it. She keeps lifting her hands like she wants to reach out to Trixie and then letting them drop back to her sides again. Sick satisfaction twists in Trixie’s stomach to see her looking so small and so afraid.

“I didn’t mean to.” Katya is only getting quieter the more Trixie lets herself unravel. Her voice is coloured by intimacy and it reminds Trixie of middle of the night tenderness, of leaning in close to share a secret. “That’s not what I wanted.”

“What did you want?”

It hits Trixie just like that.

Since the first time they met, she’s been so eager to be close to Katya. In spite of her better judgement and her past hurts. Accusations crowd inside her mouth, jostling so that she can’t focus in on just one. Her knees buckle and she has to hold herself up with both hands at the countertop behind her. The movement makes the black tourmaline in her pocket knock against her thigh.

She’s been carrying it with her every day since Katya gave it to her. She is very suddenly hollowed out with humiliation. Shame travels down the centre of her chest and cleaves her in two to let Katya look. It’s always been like that with them, she’s always felt like Katya has seen the pink-raw insides of her, but this is different.

Trixie is ensnared by the fact that she can’t accuse Katya of casting a love spell on her. Not without admitting that she loves her. She is in love with her, hopelessly, still. The indignity of the whole situation has a fresh flood of hot tears spilling over her cheeks. Her face feels itchy with saltwater and she’s getting a dehydration headache.

She thinks about Katya holding Trixie’s hands in hers and making heat bloom all over. Katya’s mouth between Trixie’s thighs and the lights in the whole house stuttering out at the first wet, delicious contact. How foolish she’s been. Over and over, she’s written things off as Katya’s marvellous eccentricity.

Opposite her, Katya rakes a rough hand through her hair. It makes her bangs stick up from her forehead. “I wanted you. I wanted you so much that I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

It’s too much. She can’t keep it back.

“You cast a love spell on me.”

“No, Trixie,” Katya says very gently, and shakes her head. “You just like me.”

“So you’ve never used magic on me?”

Trixie comes unstuck, quite suddenly, from the cabinets. She stalks away from Katya and runs both hands through her hair, swipes uselessly at her cheeks. She’s glad to turn away, even though Katya has already seen how much she’s hurting.

Cash has opened the garbage can with his nose and is rummaging through it, pulling things out to scatter all over the kitchen. Katya probably has a spell for that, so Trixie leaves him to it.

“Not on purpose.” Katya sounds small and exhausted. Trixie doesn’t want to turn to look at her, but she can see her reflected in the window over the sink. She pinches the bridge of her nose in two fingers. “Sometimes it just happens. When I care about someone. I’m a healer, honey. I can’t watch you hurt.”

“You’ve made me hurt.” Trixie whips around to look at her again. Her voice is shuddering like she’s coming down from her crying jag, but she doesn’t feel done yet. “You hurt me.”

“Trixie. Can you come here. Please.” She doesn’t move, can’t seem to make herself close the distance between them. “Okay. That’s okay.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t trust me.”

Katya makes a high-pitched noise of distress, wet with grief. “I do trust you. I do. Things were just so good with us. I was afraid to ruin it.”

“Well you have anyway.” It feels good to be unkind. It feels like vindication to watch Katya’s face twist with every new truth Trixie lays out in front of her. There’s an intolerable churning in the pit of Trixie’s stomach that won’t go away no matter how many steadying breaths she takes. “I can’t- I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be with you right now.”

Trixie reaches for the first thing she sees, an apple from the bowl on the island, and holds it out to show Cash. It draws his attention immediately away from his foraging and he follows her towards the door. It’s like nothing happened, and she can’t help wondering if she would have ever found out the truth if Cash hadn’t gotten hurt.

“Trixie, please.”

Katya’s pitiful voice stops her in the threshold. She doesn’t turn around, can’t bear the sight of her anymore, but she also doesn’t move. Cash is nosing at Trixie’s fist, trying to get a bite of the apple she’s holding.

“There’s a circle around the moon tonight. That’s a sign of trouble not far ahead.”

It isn’t what Trixie was expecting. She huffs a tiny breath of laughter, in spite of herself. The trouble is already here; they’re in it. She doesn’t want to entertain the thought of what could be worse than this. Katya gives her space to retort but Trixie is all out of words now. She’s exhausted suddenly, and has to put her empty hand against the doorframe so she doesn’t topple.

“Sometimes I…I feel like I have a kind of hole, inside. Like an emptiness that burns. I’m pretty sure if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. Isn’t that nuts? That’s pretty nuts.”

Trixie closes her eyes. It doesn’t stop two round, hot tears from escaping. She knows it isn’t true. Night after night, she has pillowed her cheek against Katya’s chest and closed her eyes to listen. She’s fallen asleep more than once to the quiet, insistent rhythm of Katya’s heartbeat.

“I’ve had this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting.” Katya makes a little noise as if she’s trying to clear her throat. “I dreamed of a love that even time would lie down and be still for.”

Trixie bites down on her tongue until the taste of iron floods her mouth. She wants to wail, wants to say that she loves her, she loves her, and Katya turned it back around into like. All the fight has gone out of her. Her pulse is loud in her ears, blood drawing out of her extremities and making them numb and tingly.

“I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. Maybe I already had my happiness. I don’t know.” Trixie’s arms twitch, but she doesn’t move. She’s had a lot of practice ignoring the ache to hold Katya that lives in her stomach. “Still sometimes when the wind is warm or the crickets sing-”

“You’re running off at the mouth again.” Trixie can’t — won’t — turn and look at her. Katya makes a pitiful noise, loud in the stillness of the kitchen. “You don’t make any sense when you’re like this. You don’t- I can’t understand you.”

Outside, Trixie encourages Cash into the truck with the apple in her hand. The whole time, she can feel Katya watching her. She knows better than to come outside and try to help. Trixie feels a scream swelling at the base of her throat. It takes her a couple of tries to get the engine started and frustration makes her grip the wheel too tight, makes her grit her teeth until her jaw pops.

On the drive she has to pull over at the side of the street to throw up. When it’s over, when she’s finished, she swipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes are watering again and the acid taste, the smell, is making her heave, but it’s good. It feels good to expunge something.

[pollylynn]

“You're grasping at straws, and that can't make you happy.” —Lady Irena, The Mistress Always Spanks Twice (2 x 16)

Title: Indeterminate Rating: T WC: 600

There is no boyfriend. The boyfriend is purely hypothetical, and it should be obvious to anyone who listens to her—anyone who literally pays attention to Kate Beckett for a living—that there was an implied If I had one embedded in her scolding. He’s sure of that. He’s pretty sure, and when his faith in the hypothetical nature of the boyfriend she doesn’t actually have wavers, he takes a page from her book. Or his book, but it’s based on her. It’s the outcome of a full year of professional watching. Anyway, he feeds the timeline.  

It’s been, like, a minute  since Brad, and he knows for a fact that was a fiasco even before the two of them abandoned their dates for a good, old-fashioned pet store shootout. He smiles to himself thinking about her gesturing with the long silver ice cream spoon as she and-another-thing downloaded the gory Fiasco Brad details in between bites of an almost frighteningly large milkshake.

So the hypothetical boyfriend is definitely not Brad, and if the boyfriend weren’t hypothetical, ipso facto there would have been no Brad. But given that Fiasco Brad most definitely existed, there’s no way she could have met someone else since then.

Except of course she could have met someone. She’s arrestingly beautiful. She’s wickedly smart and funny. She’s magnetic. She could meet someone any second of any day, but she can’t have met someone she’d use the B word for already. She probably can’t have.

The past modal perfect of it all is maddening. It’s professionally demoralizing, because he’s supposed to be good at this. He should know when, if ever, she’d start using the B word about someone she was seeing, and he should know what that entails. He should be able to say with absolute confidence that there would have been no Brad if there was also a boyfriend, but he can’t.

He knows about Sorenson. He knows that she talks about six months like it’s an eternity, and that’s frankly kind of weird. He knows that Lanie had a hand in Fiasco Brad, and that tells him that  however many people she could meet any second of any day, she doesn’t, in general. And that, more or less, exhausts what he knows about her and boyfriends or even . . . boyfriend-adjacent individuals.

It’s not a lot. For all he knows, she could be a free love–embracing, bondage-cuff recognizing, normal-looking really freaky person with a Pleasure PhD in slippery and sticky.

That’s an entirely different Fail-with-a-capital-F on his part, because she’s straight-up taunting him with her off-hand commentary on leatherwork and public play. She’s daring him to follow that line of inquiry and discover whether her dirty little secrets on that score are personal or professional, and he wants to. He definitely wants to confirm some long-standing suspicions about what lies beneath her straight-laced exterior.

That’s what should be driving him right now. He’s already decided that Lady Irena’s House of Pain will be coming to a Nikki Heat novel near you in the very near future, and he needs to know exactly how easy it will be for Nikki to step into that world. More accurately, he needs to know how many miles her thigh-high patent leather boots may have already walked in it.

That should be his primary mission. He should be spending his time and energy  separating the tease from the truth, but it isn’t.

He wants to know—he wants to believe—that the boyfriend is hypothetical.  

images via homeofthenutty

[hitchell-mope]

After joker and the thief

The crowds run away. The sky gets darker. Carlos loses all his swagger and confidence and hides behind jay. A flock of ravens fly down from a building towards the teenagers. The ravens grow closer together forming...)

Maleficent: well

Mal: um. I’m so sorry. We tried really hard

Evie: thanks for landing us in it magenta

Mal (to Evie): SHUDDIT. (To Maleficent). We did but

Maleficent (eyes glowing dangerously): I do not want to hear it. Once again. You have failed at the most basic and simplistic of instructions. Use your magic and that of your minions to bring down the barrier to free me from this prison. And you keep failing!

(During this little speech the four teens are doubled over in pain)

Carlos: we’re sorry we’re sorry we’re sorry

(Maleficent stalks over to Carlos and grabs him by the chin)

Maleficent: oh I know you are. Believe me. I know how sorry you are. No. No. Don’t cry. Sweet puppy. Don’t cry. It will just make what I have to say worse off for you.

(With that she launches him into the air. Missing the barrier by inches. The other three set the faces in an attempt to stop themselves from helping him. Jay bites his tongue to hold back the tears)

Maleficent: now

(Mal rushes over catches Carlos and holds him until he stops shaking)

Maleficent (unmoved by this display of blatant affection): follow me

(The four of the follow her into the building. They’re greeted by Grimhilde and Jafar)

Grimhilde: sweetheart I do so hope you weren’t eating while you were amongst the rabble.

Evie: n nuh nao

Grimhilde: you know how much I detest mumbling. Enunciate or I shall have to feed your tongue to Diablo

Evie (swallowing hard): I. Found a peach at the market. I took it. And threw it at a commoner.

Grimhilde: good. I have to keep you at the proper size of you are to ever find a husband on this trash heap.

Jafar: oh your majesty come now. (Much to Evie’s horror he caresses her chin with his hand). Your daughter has grown into a fine young lady that any man would be lucky to wed

Evie (small voice): mother. May I.

Grimhilde: permission granted.

Evie: thank you

(Her eyes glow bright sapphire blue and she sinks her teeth into the mans hand. He howls in pain)

Jafar (raiding his hand to slap her): you worthless little who

Jay (grabbing his dads wrist): don’t you dare touch her.

(Jafar stops and contemplates his son. Then slaps jay so hard the teen in knocked to the floor. He grabs his son by the hair and pulls him up to face him. There’s a small trickle of blood on the left corner of jay’s mouth)

Jafar: if you ever. Ever. Talk to me like that again. I will make you kill the pet. Do you understand me boy?

Jay: yes sir. I promise I’ll behave

Jafar: good.

Maleficent (rapping her sceptre on the ground): enough! We are off subject. Girls. Take him outside and clean him up. Nothing should ever blemish such a pretty face

(Once they’re alone. More importantly. Carlos is alone. Among three very powerful adults)

Jay (cleans himself up): there. I’m pretty again. Let’s go back inside and help C.

Evie: too quick.

Jay and Mal: do you really want to prolong this?

Evie: you both know I don’t. But we all know she’ll know if we don’t take our time. I’ve got the ointment. Mal you take the stitches.

(Back inside)

Maleficent: tell me boy. How long does it normally take the girls to clean him up after injuries.

Carlos: anywhere from thirty seconds to three minutes.

Maleficent: very well then. We shall wait three minutes exactly. Or. You are to go home with your mother

(Later)

Maleficent: would you look at that. And with 45 seconds to spare as well. Mal! Sit! Scalp!

(She sifts through her daughters hair growing more and more disappointed by the second)

Maleficent: still nothing. Not even bumps. You my girl need to try harder. The most important lesson I can teach you is how to be me

Mal (at the same time): ...how to be you. I understand mother. And I promise I’ll do better.

Maleficent: I know you will. Because you know what will happen if you don’t

(Carlos’s screams echo in Mal’s head)

Mal: yes

Maleficent: now. On to business. You four have been chosen to go to a new school. In Auradon.

Mal: what?

Jay: I don’t uniforns

Carlos: are there dogs there?

Evie (wistfully): or princes

Grimhilde: I told you my girl would take it well

Maleficent: like everything else in your pitiful little lives you have no choice in this matter or any other. It’s quite simple really. You go to Auradon. You get the fairy godmothers wand. Destroy all those who get in your way. Free me. And I will subjugate the survivors

Mal: what’s in it for us?

Maleficent: the knowledge that you and I have finally triumphed

Carlos: I think she means us?

(He does the “whole lot of us” gesture)

Maleficent: Oh. Well. I suppose Mal does need minions. So I guess I will allow you to live. Mal. Walk with me

(Mal follows her mother out to the terrace)

Maleficent: now. I never thought much of you. The incessant wailing nearly cracked my horns. But it was that wonderful piece of pettiness that convinced me you had it in you to be one of the greatest threats the realms have ever seen

Mal: Oh?

Maleficent: behind me of course dear.

Mal: Oh

Maleficent: my freedom rest on your scrawny little shoulders. Do not fuck it up. Oh for Lucifers sake. She’s back. Hide the human

(Mal looks down. She blanches. She runs back into the room and pulls Carlos into the sleeping area behind the curtain)

Carlos (fearfully): she’s back isn’t she?

(Mal holds his head in her hands. And he falls into a dreamless noiseless sleep. At that moment the door bangs open. A rather tall unkempt doddering figure stands in the doorway smelling strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. Her half black and half white hair tangled and greasy. On her skeletal frame hangs an unwashed moulting coat made of dog fur. She’s swaying slightly in a drunken stupor. Despite the six very powerful magic users in the room already the woman exudes an aura of menace that only a human mortal can have

Cruella: CARLOS. WHERE ARE YOU YOU FOUL LI(hic)TLLE WRETCH

Grimhilde: he’s not here De Vil. We sent him back forty minutes ago.

Cruella: well he isn’t there.

Jafar: listen you gin soaked bitch. You know damn well that it takes an hour to get to your hovel.

Cruella: very weh (brarp) ell the then. But I assure you that if he isn’t there. I will find him.

The other three parents: oh you will

(Cruella leaves)

Maleficent: she’s gone. Wake it up

Carlos: is she...?

Jay: yeah

Maleficent: are you quite happy now Mal? I kept the mutt from the drunk. After all I’ve done for you. Won’t you go to Auradon and do this one measly little thing for me?

Mal (resigned to her fate): how long do we have to pack?

Maleficent: to hours. Starting now

(Evie heads to the door)

Grimhilde: wait. You forgot the appliances!

Maleficent: well then open the safe

(Grimhilde, rolling her eyes, opens the fridge door. She chuck the spellbook at Mal who catches it)

Mal: there’re pages missing

Maleficent: Oh. I tore them out. They’re of no use to anyone. After all. Nobody loves you. And they only work if there are wretched feelings originally

Mal (realising what her mother means and feeling even more useless then usual): Oh

Grimhilde: Evie. This mirror can show you anything and everything you want. I assume you know the incantation

Evie: yes mother

Jafar: I don’t have anything to give to you. Frankly I don’t think you’re worth it.

Jay: ok pops.

Maleficent: So you lot pack. And in two hours meet back here for collection

(They teenagers leave)

Carlos: we’re not going to be here this time tomorrow. I. I want to. To dance. But

Mal: I know buddy.

Jay: where the hell are you going

Evie: I’m saying goodbye.

Mal: to what?

Carlos: I know. Don’t worry. I know

(Elsewhere)

Evie (speaking into the mic): hey. You’re probably still in bed and. Um. I’m not exactly sure how to tell you this but. Me Carlos jay and the one who hates me have been picked to go to Auradon. You know. The uh the place where with the princes. I’ll come back. Once I’ve settled in I’ll come back. This is a promise. I promise you that I will come back and get you and bring you back with me. And I would really like it if you came and said goodbye. But if you can’t. Goodbye sis.

(She darts back to Maleficent’s building)

Jay: got everything E?

Evie: yeah

Carlos: you said your goodbyes?

Evie: yes. I gave her the peach

Carlos: naturally

Mal: so how are we gonna do this?

Jay: I sit up front. You next to me. Carlos next you. E next to Carlos.

Mal: of course. Of course. But I was referring to this

(She opens the door and shows the the thousands of sweets and candy and junk food in the limos snack bar)

Mal: bon appétit

(The other three scramble into the limo. Mal looks back at the terrace to see her mother staring coldly down at her. They’re eyes glow in farewell. And Mal gets in the limo between jay and Carlos)

(Later. POV shot. Someone’s running hurriedly to Maleficent’s. They get there just after the limo leaves the barriers confines. Maleficent notices them and sneers)

Maleficent: you are too late my girl. You know she will forget you right. They all will. That illusion of caring she gives will disappear the moment she gets a taste of the life she thinks she deserves. You’d be better off forgetting about. Because you and I both know she will forget about you

(With that she stalks back inside and it starts to rain)

[lexiecarver]

Bloodlust Pt.1- Vampire!Crowley

Pairing: Crowley x Reader :)

Word Count: 3,819

A/N: Sorry this part is so long. My muse just kept going. I did this for a ton of challenges. This was written for @spnfanficpond’s writing challenge with the prompt, “Not everybody is out to kill you.” “Says the guy who kidnapped me!” This was also written for Miami’s Gods and Monsters challenge, @moonlitskinwalker. Happy b-day hun, hope you like the story. The prompt was Vampire Crowley and “Here I was thinking you were just a pretty face.” This was also written for @supernaturalpromptchallenge with the prompt, curse. This was also written for @whispersandwhiskerburn’s Angels' 750 Follower Celebration Challenge with the prompt, “I’m all about the service darlin’.”- Sons of Anarchy. I bolded the prompts used. Angst and fluff with smut in part 2. Enjoy.:)  Also on AO3    Part 2

Crowley closed his eyes against the screams.  His previous victims haunted his mind. Their faces, their screams, their pleas for mercy. It was too much. Some days it’s harder than others. He really didn’t want to be a monster anymore but the bloodlust was so strong. He was craving blood every second of the day. His hands shook as he grabbed his coffee mug. He was weak without the blood but he refused to be a monster. One week sober from blood, he should get a medal. He could get by with just a taste here and there but the memories never left him. It would be so easy to just drain any of the women in the club, sink his teeth in and close his eyes as the memories, the pain, the knowledge of the evil he is all go away with the high. In those moments, nothing mattered as pleasure and power just coursed through his body. But he was tired of that life. Tired of hiding behind the blood. He wanted to be better, to show his mother that he didn’t deserve this curse. That he could be a man worthy of love for a woman. The only question was whether he fully believed it himself. He had spent hundreds of years of solitude never thinking he had anything to offer except death.

Your friends nearly pulled you through the doors of “Hell”. You’d never been to a strip club before and with a name like Hell you understandably felt a little hesitant. Not to mention that you were wearing a gorgeous black lace and silk dress. A bit too fashionable for a strip club. But you preferred to look your best no matter what. Clubwear wasn’t your cup of tea. Your friends figured since you were all single, you’d have some fun with hot guys as you watched them take their clothes off. You were more of a relationship kinda gal so it was awkward for you to objectify men like that. But you didn’t feel like having a philosophical discussion about men and relationship with your friends. What you wouldn’t do for friendship. All eyes were on you naturally. You stuck out like a sore thumb, your innocence obvious due to the blush on your face. You looked down at the floor as your friends picked a seat close to the stage. You ignored everyone’s eyes. Had you looked up, you would have seen a club full of hungry black eyes staring at you, warning you of the kinds of employees here. You groaned internally at being this close to the stage but put on a smile on for your friends.

The second that you entered the club Crowley’s eyes glowing red, the vampire curse flowing through him. Crowley was the first vampire ever in existence, turned by a curse, hence the red eyes. His employees, all whom he sired, had black eyes. Crowley sniffed the air and smelled you even from all the way over there. You smelled like freesia and beach. It was such a comforting, beautiful smell. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He knew right then and there that you were meant for him. He had heard that vampire had mates but he was sure after all the things he’d done, he would never get one. Screams of his victims echoed in his head, the blood pumping through him. He could feel the hunger growing.

“Drink her like you did all of us. Let her make you feel better. It’s been a week but you can’t stay away. Feed on her. Kill her.”

The voices were merciless today. He growled loudly as he fought to gain control over himself. He hoped that you would be the one to save him from this hell.

His bestie Dean knocked on his office door. Crowley ushered him in. Dean looked at his master. He looked wrecked and tired and his eyes were still glowing red.

“Are you okay, boss? I heard you growl from backstage and wanted to check.”

“Such a good friend Dean. I- I’m having a bad day.”

Dean knew exactly what Crowley meant. He offered his arm to him but Crowley waved him off. Smiling back at him fondly. Crowley grabbed his hand.

“I’ll be fine, Dean. I’m several hundred years old. One bad day is not going to get me down. I just think I found my mate in this club. She brought on the bloodlust. I’ll be fine, trust me.”

Dean looked unsure but nodded and left the boss to his thoughts.

The second Dean left, Crowley’s attention turned to you. His eyes looked you up and down groaning when he saw how the dress hugged all your curves deliciously. His tongue darted out as he licked his lips. He inched out of his office not wanting to be too obvious. He moved off to the side of the stage across from you with two tables between you. A waitress immediately came over to him, curtseying. He ordered Craig and within a minute the waitress gave him his drink. His eyes never left yours. He took in your blush, your discomfort at being here, the warm smile that lit your face and your sparkling eyes. He closed his eyes and replaced the haunting memories with those of you smiling. He imagined it was because of him. Slowly he opened his eyes looking at the stage.

“Welcome to Hell, ladies. My name is Brady, I do hope you stay awhile. We have the finest examples of men you have ever seen but careful, they do bite though not hard. For your viewing pleasure, I’d like to introduce you to the famous Winchester brothers, Dean and Sam. Enjoy.”

Your mouth hung open when you saw them come out. They were beyond gorgeous and their eyes were black, black as sin itself. That had to be an effect of the lights right? Dean was eye fucking you as he rode up and down the pole. He tore off his shirt and you sighed. Sam did the same thing and you gripped the chair. Both brothers had six packs and deliciously prominent muscles. Imagine the power in their arms. The power their thrusts would deliver. Fuck. OK, so you started to see the appeal of strip clubs. Their smiles got hungrier as they stared at you and your friends. Dean winked at you and Sam gave you such an intense look, you thought he’d throw you against the wall and fuck you right then and there. You were like a deer in the headlights.  You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. You gulped loudly still clutching the table in front of you. It was all too much. Weren’t they just supposed to dance? And not eye fuck you? Your friends encouraged them and started screaming and asking them to come over. You had a bad feeling with the looks you were getting.

Crowley was not happy with the way his boys were looking at you. He saw Dean smell the air. He was smelling you. You were Crowley’s, not Dean’s. He should have told Dean you were his when he showed up in his office but Crowley never thought he’d like you, too. Dean was dangerous, he had no self-control even in all the years Crowley had tried to teach him it. Dean was all impulse. He might very well kill you trying to turn you and Sam was no better. He could smell your fear. You were a smart girl to be afraid. He also smelled your arousal, which he was none too happy about. He would have to protect you from them and this world. But you were normal, human. You knew nothing about monsters. You blushed coming in here. He had to tread carefully with you. He wasn’t losing his only chance at a normal life, at love because he went too fast. He would prove his mother wrong with how much he could love you and maybe she would turn him back and he could love you properly and if not, then he would cherish eternity with you. A part of him knew that everything he touched, everything he did, turned into something horrible and it would be better to erase your memory and send you off … but he couldn’t do that. He needed you even if it damned you both.

The second Dean and Sam were finished with their number they leapt off the stage to your table. Dean’s eyes bored down on you with Sam at his side smirking.

“Look at the scared little mouse. Don’t worry honey I won’t harm you. Come in the back and I’ll give you a private dance. I’m all about the service, darlin’.”

His warm breath ghosted on your chest as he lowered his face to yours, his arms on the back of the chair. Crowley came up to you both flashing red eyes and instantly Dean backed off choosing your friend instead.  

“That woman is my mate!”

Dean and Sam’s eyes went wide. Dean looked down and gulped. Sam stared at you.

“Forgive me sir. I didn’t know,” Dean said telepathically.

“Now you do,” Crowley growled.

Dean and Sam bowed their heads respectfully to Crowley. Your friends were all too happy to go in the back with Sam and Dean. Everyone loved the Winchesters except you. There was something off about them, about this whole place. Your friends were beyond excited, willingly accompanying the boys through the velvet ropes. You tried to tell them you were concerned but they were hearing none of it. Dean was disappointed he wouldn’t get to taste you but he knew better than to get in bad with the boss. Mates were rare, He was happy his boss finally found his even if he really wished you could be his. Dean walked off holding your bestie’s hand.

“Don’t you dare kill them, Dean. Drink them a little, tease them, sure, but don’t kill them like last night. Make sure you bring them home none the wiser. I’m serious, Dean!”

Dean was planning to have a little more fun than just a quick bite and a tease.

“I’m your sire. You will obey me, boy.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black with anger at being spoken to in this way.

“Fine,” he grumbled

Now that he knew your friends would be safe, his attention turned back to you. Surprisingly he saw you bolt out of the chair and glare at him. You kept a fighting stance unsure of what was going on here but ready for a fight.

“I have no idea what kind of club this is but I’m done. I’m waiting for my friends in the coffee shop across the street. And I didn’t need saving. I wasn’t going anywhere with that man. I could have taken him.”

Crowley’s eyebrows went up. The scared dove was actually a firecracker. He smiled at you sizing you up.

“I see. Well, as the owner of Hell. I do humbly apologize for anything my boys did. They can be quite intense but I assure you, you are quite safe to wait here. I will personally make sure that no one bothers you, honey.”

“Y/N.”

“Excuse me, dear?”

“My name. You can call me that as opposed to honey. You have to earn that term.”

Crowley smirked back at you.

“Crowley.”

“Well, Crowley, thank you for the apology but I don’t know you and I have no idea whether I’m safer with you or outside in a café. What do you think? Well, lit-café or seedy club?”

“My club is not seedy.”

“Aren’t all strip clubs seedy?”

“It’s late, dear, and it’s dark. Let me walk you over to the -.”

“I like you, Crowley. I really do. If we’d met somewhere else aside from here I’d be all over you. Older, suave, sassy, protective. You’re catnip to me. Totally my type but if you’ll excuse me, I really do need caffeine, so -.”

Crowley froze. You admitted liking him but didn’t like his occupation. He was a vampire, not really a club owner. This was all just a cover. Would that change anything? He didn’t really want to let you go. He had a lot of enemies and it was late. To get across the street, you’d have to walk in the alleyway. A lot of things happened in that alleyway but if he said no now, he would seem like a major creep.  And you would be afraid of him or fight him. He would lose you for sure. But you may get attacked if he let you go. Swallowing he looked into your eyes seeing the same steely determination he usually had. He stepped back reluctantly and let you leave.

“Watch her. Stay by her, that’s an order”, he telepathically told his vampire bouncers. They nodded.

“I could walk with you,” he pleaded from behind you.

You smiled before turning around. “Insistent, aren’t you? I’ll see you soon enough when I pick up my friends. And I think an establishment needs the owner present during business hours. Don’t cha think?”

He smiled at your sassiness. He loved your fierceness and your ability to sass him every minute. You were catnip to him. You pulled up the collar on your coat, the wind whipping your hair. You walked fast not liking the alleyway, not liking the whole night really except for Crowley. You were brought here by your friends and they ditched you for men. “Great girls’ night out, “ you muttered under your breath. You felt eyes on you but ignored it, nearly running to the crosswalk but you didn’t make it. A figure emerged from the shadows waving his hand and pinning you to the wall.

“Well. Well, what do we have here?”

Lucifer smelled your neck before licking it and then cautiously biting you. You screamed trying desperately to move. One of the bouncers was held back by Lucifer, the other exploded with a snap of his fingers. This was exactly what Crowley was afraid of. Lucifer’s eyes turned red with bloodlust as he started back at you.

“And here I was thinking it would be a boring night. No wonder Crowley nearly begged you to let him escort you. You smell delicious and look fantastic. I can’t wait to feel you. You will make a gorgeous little trophy wife.”

In a blink of an eye, he cut his wrist and forced it against your lips. His eyes glowed as his influence took over forcing you to drink. You tried harder to move. Crowley dove down from the rooftops falling on Lucifer. The hold he had on you faltered.

“Ouch. That hurt. You’ve come to save your mate. How cute but your weak, old man. You haven’t feed in a week. You really think you can defeat me? With what steely determination? How chilling!”

Crowley growled fiercely. His eyes glowing red and his fangs descended. Your breathing was slower, you felt dizzy and slowly lifted your hand to your neck noticing blood on it. You wiped your lips and saw more blood, his blood. You tried to throw it all up but nothing came out. You started to panic. Crowley knew he needed to get you to safety and now.  Lucifer pushed him off.

“You’re always taking all the good things for yourself. You have the club and such a clever little way to get blood and what do I have? I have to survive on scraps? No, I don’t think so. This one’s mine. Oh, spoiler alert, she already drank my blood. Whoops.”

Lucifer laughed maniacally as he looked at Crowley’s tortured face. Your vision was getting spotty but you saw them both with red eyes. You looked back at your hand; your head was bobbing from side to side. Your eyes suddenly becoming very heavy. Crowley mind-melded with Dean who instantly saw what was happening. He lifted his head from your friend’s neck putting everyone to sleep and locking the door. He grabbed Sam and they ran out of the club. Crowley was out of practice fighting or rather he didn’t wish to access that part of himself. That darkness was difficult to shut down if he opened it. He tried his best but Lucifer was gaining the upper-hand until Dean came up behind him and jammed a wooden stake in his heart.

“You should really pay attention to your surroundings, Lucifer, and less on winning,” Dean said as he twisted the stake in Lucifer’s heart.

Lucifer whirled around in a fury ready to kill Dean when he suddenly crumbled bit by bit screaming, leaving only ashes in his place. You were finding it hard to breathe, not really sure what you were seeing. Sam ran over to you holding your head up and looked into your eyes. His eyes held only concern for you and no malice or lust as before. He gently placed you against the wall looking down at your neck. He looked back at Crowley who ran over. Sam held your neck up while Crowley licked the wound sucking out some of Lucifer’s claim on you. The wound closed and you collapsed in their arms. Sam carefully placed you in Crowley’s arms.

“Thank you both.”

“Anytime, Crowley.” Sam offered.

“You care for her, don’t you.”

Crowley doesn’t say anything. He just looks down at you smiling.

“It’s about time, Crowley, “ Dean says smirking as he and Sam go back into the club.

“We’ll take her friends back. Have a good night, boss,“ Sam added.

Crowley kisses your forehead as he teleports back to his mansion, carefully placing you on the bed. He didn’t want any of this. This was why he should have just left you alone but he couldn’t. You were hurt because of him. What was he going to say when you woke up? And would you see the man behind the monster?

*       *        *       *       *         *         *          *        *       *       *      *       *       *       *      

You groaned feeling very soft sheets under you. Your arms shot out and you stretched, arching your back. Slowly you opened your eyes and were met with the worried eyes of Crowley. You were confused about how you got here and then you remembered the attack. He wasn’t human and now you were in his lair. Crowley felt your fear and sighed deeply.

“Not everybody is out to kill you.”

“Says the guy who kidnapped me!”

“You would have preferred that I left you there in the alleyway?”

“You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“Here I was thinking you were just a pretty face.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bs here. You, Dean and Sam, are all vampires and you saved me from another one.”

“Yes, actually I told you not to go but you had to have your cup of coffee.”

“How male of you. Blaming the woman for getting attacked.  How about you for making such messed up enemies. What kind of person knows someone like that? And why didn’t you say -.”

“I’m a vampire who is completely in love with you at first sight and I want to keep you safe, so stop being stubborn. My enemy is outside so stay here and be my mate.”

You blinked back at him.

“Yeah, I don’t think that would have worked.”

“You’re in love with me?”

“You’re my mate. I am positive about that. You smell like heaven to me. I know it’s a lot to take in. Vampires exist and we have mates. Want me to prove it to you?”

“Can you?”

“Yes, I can.

You moved closer to the headboard groaning a bit. Crowley was at your side in a second holding you down.

“Lucifer is very powerful and I’m afraid he bonded with you before I could stop him. I couldn’t fully sever the bond. Your body needs rest. Don’t move one bit. I will take care of you. May I touch you?”

You were taken back by his question. He had saved your life after all and now he was asking if it was okay to touch you? You were still frightened by what vampires were capable of. You saw Lucifer blow someone up before your very eyes. And to think you were bonded to him now. You wanted more than anything to be at home and for all of this to be just a bad dream. But it wasn’t and Crowley saved you. You felt safe with him even if he was a vampire. He smiled down at you as he gingerly took your hand in his. His touch was so gentle, you sighed at the feeling of his flesh on yours. Crowley closed his eyes and spoke to you in his mind.

“You are my true mate, you will be able to see the things I’ve done but I caution you, I’ve done bad things. I have been a monster but I hope maybe I don’t have to be anymore. I want to change and become a better man. I want you to know who I am.”

You gulped when you looked into his eyes seeing such love there. You closed your eyes as you suddenly saw everything that he had done. You saw his victims and his own mother cursing him. He wasn’t lying when he said he was a monster. You felt his loneliness and pain. You felt his struggle with his bloodlust. Then you saw today from his eyes, felt his feeling for you, felt his connection to you and you knew you were really safe. You squeezed his hand and gestured to the bed. Crowley walked around the bed, careful to not come too close. You moved over a tad to give him more room, groaning again. His eyes flashed red before turning to you.

“The only real way to sever the bond is -.”

“To mate with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Crowley smiled back at you and shook his head.

“There is nothing I want more than to claim you and keep you safe but you need to be sure. There is no going back after this. I don’t think you can make a decision that will affect the rest of your life in two hours. Rest here. I will come back in the morning and if you still want to mate with me then, I will do so.”

You smiled back at him.

“How gentlemanly of you.”

He kissed the back of your head and teleported to the vampire council meeting.  He felt you fall asleep and knew that you were safe there. His bodyguards and the warding wouldn’t let anyone in to cause you any harm. He sat on his throne as the vampires told him the issues of the day.