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empyreanwritings · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Side to You

Pairing: Angel!Sam Wilson x Demon!Reader

Word Count: 7k (yall this is my longest fic that isn’t a series, i’m crying)

Warnings: definitely some blasphemous talk, blood and gore, mentions of sacrifices, language

Summary: You like to get under Sam’s skin because he makes it easy, but he doesn’t realize just how far you’ll really go to make sure he’s safe.

A/N: Hello friends! This is my submission for @buckysknifecollection writing challenge, congrats again on reaching 3k bby cause you deserve every follower and more! My prompt was Flirting in Inappropriate Places, and I tried to be as interesting with it as I could asdlkfjd ! Please let me know what y’all think! I crave attention xx

Divider by @whimsicalrogers - check them out bc their edits are amazing x

"Do you pray, or is that kind of redundant given your direct line to the big man?"

Sam refused to look over at the intruder. It was bad enough you felt the need to bother him with your presence again but to do it in a church? He feared if he looked over at you, he'd throw the hymnal straight at your thick skull. That kind of behavior was unbecoming for God's favorite, and he knew better than to test his father's patience - even if you tested his own daily.

You sighed dramatically, and he heard the familiar click of your heels as you walked down the center aisle. You traced your finger against the armrest of the pews; your nails dipped in black paint occasionally leaving a small scratch on them. The wood was old and soft, it was easy to leave marks behind, and it made you smile knowing they wouldn't be able to buff it out without ruining the wood altogether. A church marked by a demon. How sad.

For the last year, you brought it upon yourself to cause trouble to Sam. Nat told you not to bother with him; she knew her father would protect him at all costs, but you couldn't stop yourself. There was something about Sam that made every part of your body feel hot - and not in the Hellfire kind of way. Maybe it was his strong will or those arms. Either way, you enjoyed bugging him because you knew you'd make him crack eventually.

It was too hard to resist you, ask any man or woman who was allowed to live after a nightly encounter with you.

"I have to say," you leaned against the pew directly in front of Sam and crossed your arms over your chest, "Orange really is your color, Sammy. I don't think I've ever seen you look so delicious before."

"Can you not flirt with me in a house of worship? It's bad enough that you are here," he hissed. "Do not disrespect my father by flirting with me as well."

"Touchy, touchy. I can see I've struck a nerve, so I'll tell you why I'm here."

Sam's brows raised, and for once, he seemed intrigued by what you had to say. "Oh? It's not to bother me?"

Part of your visit was to bother him, you couldn't deny that, but it was mostly a professional visit. Nat needed to return to Hell and deal with a few demons who were stirring up trouble. The longer Nat stayed on Earth, the more restless they became down below. Some of them even went as far as to say Nat was no longer their queen and wanted to overthrow her. And, of course, she couldn't let that happen, so she left you in charge of any earthly factions trying to rise up while she went down to control the chaos. You hated being left behind, but the company wasn't terrible.

The only way you could really get the demons on Earth under control was if you had Lilith's knife. It was the only knife capable of truly killing a demon, not just send them back to Hell to crawl their way out again. After the war between the angels and demons, the angels took the knife and hid it so no being could ever wield its power again, and you knew Sam was there when Steve hid it.

You suggested a trade: Sam loaned you Lilith's knife in exchange for one of your Souls. No one would ever be willing to give up a soul they took in a deal, but if it meant you'd get your hands on the knife, you would do it.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sam roared, his cool exterior finally cracking at your audacity to ask something of him. "You really think I am going to hand over Lilith's knife to you? You know very well that knife doesn't just kill demons, Y/N."

"I would never use it on you, you drama queen." You paused, and a wicked smile spread across your face. "Unless you asked me to, of course."

He scoffed. You felt the disgust rolling off him, and you tried not to be annoyed that the sheer thought of being with you made him feel sick. You weren't looking for him to love you, or anything like that, but he didn't have to act like sleeping with you was so terrible. It wasn't as if you could get any sort of disease - perks of being a demon, after all.

"I am not giving you the knife, so you might as well leave."

"I can wait," you purred and left your spot on the pew to explore the sanctuary. You knew it would bother Sam if you stayed any longer, so you were going to milk your time there.

The church was one of the oldest in the city. You never fully understood the separate denominations of the church, but you noticed Baptists put less work into their churches than others. The pews were old, the fabric on them was a faded green that was torn in some spots. The white walls were slightly yellowed and peeling in the corners, but you only noticed if you focused long enough. It helped that the lights, which you could see dust hanging from the top of them, were dimmed. The blue carpet on the stage was the only thing that seemed new, and even that didn't seem to be in the best condition.

You walked over to the podium, and from the corner of your eye, you could see Sam tense up. You smirked and continued on. A worn bible sat on top of it; there were tabs sticking out the side, marking several pages for future sermons, you assumed. You grabbed the end of one and flipped it to the marked page, running your fingers across the lines.

You opened your mouth to start reading, but Sam appeared in front of you almost instantly. He slammed the bible closed, barely giving you time to yank your hand back. He knew exactly what you were doing, and he refused to let you speak the words of his father.

Touchy, touchy, you thought.

Sam grabbed your elbow to escort you out, but you whirled around and faced him head on. You pressed your chest against his; you were so close, your nose brushed the tip of his. He hated being this close to you, but he made no sign of backing down. God's favorite was one of the proudest as well. A deadly sin, you chose to remind him.

He watched your eyes flick down to his lips and back to his eyes in a matter of seconds. It happened so quickly, he thought he imagined it, but he knew better. You were shameless.

"I guess I'll get going now, Sammy," you hummed as you trailed your finger down his chest. "Please wear this sweater the next time I see you. Like I said, orange is your color."

You disappeared without another word, and the breath escaped Sam's lips in a cough. Well, it was less of a cough, and more of a strangled gasp. You really had a way of getting under his skin, and he hated admitting that to himself.

He knew one thing was certain, he couldn't let you get Lilith's knife. No matter your intentions.

"What are they doing?"

You jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, thinking you were caught by one of the people you spied on, but instantly relaxed when you saw him standing behind you. You glanced back at the scene in front of you - an altar with fake skulls the group probably bought at Michael's, red fabric thrown carelessly around everything, and three men in black cloaks mumbling to themselves about Lucifer. A woman was tied to the table directly in the middle. She squirmed and screamed for someone to help her, but no one was around these parts for miles, and the group knew it. It was why they picked this spot in the first place.

"Virgin sacrifice," you grumbled. "I could smell the stench of goat's blood miles away, so I popped in to see what they were doing."

"You can't just let them-"

"Relax, Sammy. I'm going to stop them. I actually hate human sacrifices." You turned around and smiled wide when you looked over at Sam. His brows furrowed, confused by your sudden change in mood, but when your eyes looked down at his shirt, he knew what you were about to say. "You're wearing orange."

He rolled his eyes. "I had nothing else to wear."

"You're wearing orange because I said you looked good in it, aren't you? Don't be embarrassed, Sammy, you look absolutely-"

"Don't you have a virgin sacrifice to interrupt?"

Your mouth formed an 'o' as if you just remembered why you were here. You told him to wait one moment before you disappeared behind the red fabric.

Screams filled the abandoned warehouse, but they didn't belong to the woman. The stench of blood and mutilated flesh hung in the air around Sam. It was a smell he was sure you were used to, but he almost lost his lunch thanks to it. When the screaming stopped, Sam thought the worst of it was over until he heard one of the boys beg for their lives. A wretched sob and a plea to be better interrupted by the sound of him choking on his own blood.

You escorted the woman out quietly. The poor thing trembled in your arms, yet it seemed you weren't the thing she was terrified of. You may have been a demon, but the monsters were the men willing to sacrifice her in the name of someone who didn't want human sacrifices to begin with. Well, Nat only liked sacrifices if the one dying was wicked, but that was another story.

The woman thanked you, tears and snot streaming down her face as she clutched onto your torso. You grimaced but did not pull away. Human comfort wasn’t something you fully understood, but you knew she needed a good hug right now, so you let it slide.

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" She sobbed.

Sam shook his head. He knew what you were about to say - she could offer her soul in exchange for helping her. Demons were all the same. They acted like what they did was for the benefit of others, but it always came at a price. A price the humans could barely afford. And just when he started to believe you did this out of whatever goodness you had in your heart, you were going to prove to him that you were just like every other demon.

"You owe me nothing." He sucked in a sharp breath. That wasn't what he was expecting at all. "Except…maybe don't go on dates with people you meet in cemeteries. This is New Orleans, you can meet better men at the bars."

She nodded and made her way out of the warehouse. You weren't worried about her spreading the tale of what happened today because she could be accused of murder if she did. No one would ever buy the tale that a demon swooped in and killed everyone just to save her. The witches of the French Quarter might, but they weren't lawyers who could bust her out of jail.

You noticed Sam staring at you and huffed. "What? Do you not approve of me killing those bastards?"

"No, I…" He trailed off for a moment, eyes wandering over every inch of your blood covered body. He wasn't looking at you but trying to look through you and understand why you would do something like spare that woman's soul. "I don't understand why you didn't make a deal with that woman."

You shrugged. You felt no need to explain yourself to him.

"Wait, when you offered to exchange a soul for Lilith's knife, did you even have a soul to offer?"

"Several."

"Ones that aren't centuries old."

"Why does it matter how old they are? A soul is a soul, right?"

It hit Sam that you probably haven't made a deal since you first became a demon. There was a time where Nat required every demon to make deals with people, but even she grew bored of the lifestyle. Many demons continued making deals and ruining people's lives, but Sam wondered when you stopped - and why. You spent most of your days following him around just to bother him, which meant you didn't have much time to harvest souls of the innocent. So, why? Why did you stop, and why did you make it seem like it wasn't a big deal?

You turned away to avoid any questions he was inevitably going to throw at you. You walked around the body parts and looked through the trinkets they gathered for the sacrifice. It was a long shot, but you wanted to see if they got their hands on Lilith's knife. A small bubble of excitement burst in you when you saw a black dagger resting on the table, but you knew it wasn't the right one as soon as you touched it. No magic, no power. Just a boring kitchen knife dipped in paint.

He watched you look around in disappointment. Questions bombarded his mind, made him wonder what else he didn't know about you - what else he might have gotten wrong. You were still a demon, though, and he would never be able to look past that.

When your search turned up empty, you focused right back on Sam and the dark orange V-neck he wore. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he wore that shirt for you. And you knew it.

"So," you began with a smile, "I find it adorable that you are wearing more orange for me. Very fall…very romantic, if you ask me."

"I didn't wear it for you," he quipped. "I told you, I had nothing else to wear."

"Mhm, so you said. Well, if you don't like it, you could always just take it off. I wouldn't mind." You ran your finger along his exposed collarbone, and he quickly swatted at your hand.

"There is nothing sexy about you asking me to take off my shirt when it smells like blood."

You giggled, something that should have been adorable yet somehow sounded evil coming from your lips. "You'll get used to it after a while, but I'll let you change the subject for now. I know it's probably not good for God's favorite to be aroused at the idea of taking me on a sacrificial altar."

Sam deadpanned, and you practically howled out a laugh. He made it far too easy to get under his skin. As much as you would have liked for him to ravish you then and there, you were perfectly satisfied knowing you managed to annoy him. It was the second greatest pleasure in your life, next to torturing evil assholes who thought the world belonged to them.

You tried to turn the conversation back to Lilith's knife. You hoped that your display of mercy would make him willing to give up its location, but he stood his ground. He vowed to never let you see the knife, even if you did swear not to use it on the angels. The knife's power was too much for one to handle; he couldn't guarantee that after you used it on the rowdy demon faction, you wouldn't just turn around and use it on him or his brothers. Once the knife got a taste for blood, it always wanted more.

No matter what you told him about the threats of war in Hell and on Earth, he refused you. His stubbornness made your jaw clench, but you knew when to pick your battles. When the precious humans were in danger, he would be willing to give it up. Despite not wanting for it to get that bad, you knew it was the only way.

So, you'd wait, and until then, you'd drive him crazy with your flirtatious comments.

The next few days were…off, to say the least. You spent a lot of your time trying to get a feel for Sam's godly aura - something that had a distinct smell and feel to it most angels didn't even realize - but there was nothing. Every corner you turned, every chapel you visited, was hollow. Cold and empty, much like the feeling in your chest the longer you didn't see him. You knew it was possible he was just avoiding you, but you couldn't help but feel a little dreadful.

If something happened to Sam, you'd unleash Hell on earth. You would rip through every being you had to in order to get to him. The heavens haven't seen true bloodshed until you've put your mind to it, especially if you were going to avenge your non-existent lover.

But as you sat in one of Sam's favorite sanctuaries, you wondered if he had finally grown tired of your games. He was an angel after all, and you were nothing but a demon. Scum of the earth; knight of darkness and destruction. A small voice in the back of your head reminded you that you would never be any more to him. You looked around and realized, he might not have been missing at all, he may have just decided you were no longer worthy of his presence. You weren't sure which idea hurt more, and you didn't really want to take time to analyze it.

The funny thing about sadness is that it eats you from the inside. The harder you try to push it down, the more power you seem to give it. Even as you sat there, staring at the ethereal paintings on the ceiling, you couldn't stop the sadness from burning a hole into your heart. You closed your eyes and exhaled, feeling the heat from all the Bibles burning around you. And you smiled - not fully, but enough to push down the sadness once more.

"Where is my brother?" You opened your eyes and looked over at Steve, who went to work trying to put out the small fires you set. "For the love of dad, did you really have to burn the Bibles? You could have gone for the hymnals, at least!"

You hummed disinterestedly. "Why are you asking me about Sammy? I figured he went back to Heaven by now."

"He hasn't been home in months, but he usually checked in with me. I haven't heard from him in days now."

Okay, so maybe he was missing, and maybe you were too quick to start throwing yourself a pity party, but could anyone blame you? No one had to know you were willing to burn down a church simply because you thought Sam abandoned you.

"The last I saw Sam he was alive and well, I can promise you," you purred just to get under Steve's skin. "If I'm being honest, though, I haven't seen him since then. He usually pops up to scold me when I start trouble, and I did everything I could to get his attention! I even kicked a toddler, and he never came. I should have realized he could never get bored with me; obviously someone has taken him."

Steve blinked several times, trying his best to process your words. He didn't know where to start - the fact that you both tend to end up in each other's company willingly or that you would go so far as to kick a toddler to see him. He shook his head. How Sam managed to put up with your antics was beyond Steve. He always told his brother that a demon like you wasn't worth watching over, but Sam always had one excuse or another. Lately, he claimed it was to make sure you didn't find Lilith's knife, but even that excuse was flimsy at best.

He wanted to be in your company, and it baffled Steve most of all.

"I'm not going to touch any of that," he quickly shook his head and tried to push the disturbing thoughts out of his head. "Nat said there was rebellion going on in Hell. Do you think demons might have taken him to get under her skin?"

"I wouldn't put it past them, but I honestly think if the demon faction on Earth kidnapped him it's because they want Lilith's knife."

"And let me guess you want me to give it to you."

You nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If demons are behind Sammy's disappearance, they need to be taken out. Lilith's knife can do that, and you know it!"

"You think I'm foolish enough to give a blade that can kill demons and angels to a psychotic demon with stabbing tendencies?" Steve scoffed. "You're off your rocker even more than usual."

A moment passed, and your passive façade finally cracked. You kicked Steve, full force against his abdomen, and sent him flying towards the altar. He caught himself before he landed on the podium, but he didn't have enough time to block your next blow to his side. You knew it was enough to knock the air from his lungs and catch him off guard, so you quickly grabbed his throat and forced him to his knees. His angel strength usually made him an even match, but your rage was the one thing fueling you. It was too much for him to fight off.

You squeezed until he was gasping for air and slapping at your hands. His eyes grew wide when he looked up at you and realized you were in full demon form - eyes black, teeth pointed behind your sinister snarl, and your skin slowly flaking off and turning to ash. He had never seen you like this, and for once, he feared his life despite knowing you couldn't really kill him.

You leaned in close, letting him get a good whiff of the rotted flesh and brimstone. "Let me make something very clear, Michael, you will give me that knife because the longer you wait, the more danger my Sammy may be in. And if he gets hurt, I will tear the world apart until it rains blood for eternity. You and your daddy will have nothing to protect anymore, do you understand me?"

Steve shuddered as you dropped him to the floor. The use of his real name never brought a chill down his spine until it came from your lips. He knew, somewhere deep inside of him, that you no longer wanted the knife for yourself; you wanted it to end those who dared to take Sam away from you.

Realization dawned on him in that moment. You loved him. It was something he never knew a demon could be capable of, but your protectiveness…your anger…it all made sense now. You wouldn't let anything happen to Sam, and he knew giving you the knife wouldn't be the worst idea. The other angels might frown upon it, but they wouldn't question Steve's judgement. He'd make them understand why he had to, and why you were somehow the most trustworthy person to take it.

"I'll get you the knife," he gasped. "You find out where my brother is, and I will meet you there with the knife."

You slowly turned back into your "presentable" self at his words. The relief that you wouldn't have to torture the information out of Steve flooded you. Sam would be incredibly unhappy if he knew you hurt his family, even if it was a little deserved.

"I can find out within the hour, I have someone who owes me a few favors," you replied. "Keep an eye out for my text. I'll give you the coordinates on where to find me once I know."

Without another word, you disappeared, off to cause trouble wherever you needed to. Steve stood there, hands dropped at his side and a deep sigh escaping his lips. There was one problem to your plan: he didn't have a phone.

The moon just started to rise when you stepped through the dilapidated gates of the cemetery. Fog clung to the ground, making everything damp and humid. Bits of leaves stuck to the bottom of your boots as you walked, but you didn't care. You just wanted to get to Sam.

You felt in your element, oddly enough. Surrounded by darkness, Lilith's knife grasped tightly in your hand. You knew the night would end in a blood bath. The demons weren't going to let Sam go willingly, and you mentally prepared yourself for what he was about to witness. If you lost control, even for a split second, your true form would come out again. You knew he would never love you anyways, but once he got a real look at you, whatever tiny amount of hope you clung onto would be squashed.

None of it mattered, though. You only cared for Sam's safety.

The faction waited for you in one of the larger mausoleums. They almost seemed too relaxed as you walked in, as if the party couldn't start until you arrived. You glanced over and saw Sam bound, gagged, and tossed in the corner. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and not let the rage consume you over the sight of him.

Mystique, the leader of the faction, casually hopped down from the top of the stone casket and made her way to you. Her movements reminded you of a lioness, calm and in control as she stalked closer to her prey. She wasn't scared of you, and that was the one thing you were hoping for; you wanted her to underestimate just how cruel you could be.

She walked around you in circles, taking in your presence with a hungry grin on her face. Her eyes lingered on Lilith's knife longer than anywhere else, but she made no advances to take it from you.

"I see you brought the knife," she practically purred in delight. "I'm surprised the angels were so willing to hand it over, but I see kidnapping one of their own was the best way to get their attention."

"You weren't just trying to get their attention," you replied calmly. "You were trying to get mine as well."

"Well, I did have a feeling taking your lover boy would get you here."

You refused to look back at Sam, even though you wanted to. You had to lie your way out of her trap, and you wouldn't be able to contain yourself if you made eye contact with him in this moment. And you wouldn't be able to hide any of your emotions from Mystique.

"He means nothing to me. He was just a means to get Lilith's knife."

As the words left your mouth, your chest started to ache. You silently prayed - something you never thought you could bring yourself to do - that Sam wouldn't believe your words. Whether he ever planned on loving you back or not, you didn't want him to think you only saw him as a means to an end. If he never gave you the knife, you wouldn't have cared because you got to spend time with him. That was more than enough for you.

"For a demon, you're a terrible liar," Mystique sneered. "I've been watching you two. I know the truth, and honestly? I feel a little sad for you, Y/N."

Your lips formed a tight line, and you took a slow breath through your nose. "Why is that?"

"Because you're dumb enough to think he'll fall for you one day. Do you not see the heartbreak you're setting yourself up for? An angel will never see you as anything but the perverted failure of his father, and you are dumb enough to think he could ever see you as anything else." Her words cut into you, and you had nothing to retort. She was right; you came to terms with this before you ever step foot into his life. You weren't meant to fall for him and yet…you did. You tricked yourself. "Even Nat believes she is better than us, it's why we needed to take action! Can't you see? We're your family. We're able to give you what these angels never could - power and belonging. I know you crave both despite all your past protests."

She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and forced you to look at Sam. Her lips were next to your ear, and though you couldn't see it, you knew she was smirking. "All you have to do is kill him. Kill Gabriel and we'll accept you into our group. I can be a fair better leader than Nat ever could."

Sam's eyes grew wide as you stalked towards him. Mystique's words ran through your mind on a constant loop. He would never see you as anything other than a demon; he would never be able to love you the way you so desperately desired. The longer you stared at him, the easier it was to come to terms with that. But it didn't mean he deserved to die.

"There is one thing I think you are forgetting in all of this," you finally said, turning your back on Sam to face Mystique.

"And what is that, my dear?"

You shoved the knife through her throat, ignoring the spray of blood hitting your face. The other demons stood, ready to attack, but they faltered when they realized no one was going to give them an order. Mystique was too busy choking on her own blood.

Just before the light faded from her eyes, you leaned in close and whispered, "You get on my last fucking nerve."

You pulled the knife out and let her body drop to the ground. She was gone for good this time. Wherever the beings went when they were killed with Lilith's knife, you knew it wasn't Hell; she would never be able to crawl her way back to Earth and cause more trouble.

The other demons stood in shock as you stepped over her body. They didn't want to fight in you in fear of losing their own lives, but as you flipped the knife in your hand, they knew they had no choice. You weren't going to let any of them walk out of there alive. They started too much trouble for you and for Nat. This was your way of tying up loose ends.

You gave them props for putting up a good enough fight. They weren't coordinated without Mystique telling them what to do, but they tried their best. Even when bodies started to drop, and the smell of blood lingered heavily in the air, they fought tooth and nail to get away from you. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Not a single demon stepped through the mausoleum doors alive. Well, besides you of course, but that was kind of obvious.

Once everyone was taken care of, you made your way over to Sam. You looked him over several times, and a pout began to form on your lips.

"You're not wearing orange today!" You whined as you pulled the rag from his mouth. "I thought we agreed you'd wear orange the rest of your life for me."

He let out an exasperated breath. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Well I heard-"

"If quote Alice in Wonderland and tell me all the best people are crazy, I'm going to shoot you," Sam grumbled, kicking away the ropes from his ankles in a hurry.

You beamed over at him. It was the kind of smile that made you look unhinged, and the blood spattered on your cheeks didn't help. "Ooh, gunplay? Sounds kinky, I'm in! But I'm pretty sure you don't even know how to work a gun, so I'll have to teach you."

"Please don't."

Sam took your hand and allowed you to help him stand. He had been tied up for days, and he caught himself using the wall to keep himself from tipping over again as the blood started to rush to his limbs again. He noticed how you stayed close enough to catch him if he fell over but kept your distance to give him some space. You assumed he needed a break from being surrounded by demons, and you weren't entirely wrong. He just didn't include you in the list of demons he wanted to stay away from.

You quietly let him pull himself together and got to work on piling the demons' bodies on top of each other. Not many groundskeepers entered mausoleums, but you didn't want to risk anyone finding them. You made a mental note to return with some lighter fluid and take care of the remains before the sun rose. It wouldn't please Nat to know you left bodies out in the open for anyone to find.

Sam tried to shift his weight onto one foot, and he grunted in surprise when a sharp pain shot through his ankle. You were by his side instantly, using your shoulder support most of his weight.

"Are you okay?" You asked, searching his face for any signs of discomfort.

He nodded. "I'm not sure how, but I think they might have broken my ankle. It should heal soon, though."

"Let's get you to a safe place to rest. I need to get the knife back to Steve, and we don't really need any other demons stumbling on your injured self."

"You're actually giving the knife back?" His surprise made you wince. You told him the only thing you needed the knife for was the get the demon faction under control, but he never believed you.

Because you're a demon, your thoughts reminded you.

"I told you I only needed the knife for one thing Sammy," you huffed and helped him step out into the cemetery. "I would never lie to you."

Sam said nothing, but he quietly examined the side of your face as you walked together. He wasn't sure what he felt in that moment besides confusion. Deep down, he already knew you weren't one to lie to him, but he didn't understand why. Why you went to great lengths just to save him. Why you hated virgin sacrifices and didn't take souls. Why you spent most of your time around him when you could have been doing anything else. You were supposed to be a typical demon consumed by a lust for blood, sex, and souls, yet you had proven time and time again that you were far from his expectation.

He wondered if Mystique had been right - were you in love in with him? The thought of you being in love with him made him question everything he thought he already knew.

He couldn't bring himself to understand why he liked the way you flirted him, or why he wore orange just to see you smile. He easily could have gone back to Heaven by now, but he always found an excuse to stay. To see you.

As you escorted him through the gates and far away from the stench of blood, he sucked in a sharp breath. Perhaps Mystique wasn't right about everything. She claimed Sam could never see you as anything but a demon, but as he looked up at you now, that was the last thing on his mind. All he saw was the woman he finally admitted to himself he was in love with.

You slipped into the pew beside Sam, who had fully recovered from last night's incident. You were exhausted after spending your night burning bodies and tracking down Steve to return the knife. Even he seemed surprised you gave it up willingly, but you didn't bother to banter with him about it. You were tired of the angels always thinking the worst of you.

You leaned your head against Sam's shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away in disgust, but he didn't. He sat there in silence as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax for a few moments.

The silence between you two wasn't uncomfortable. Both of you felt like you had been to Hell and back, and not much needed to be said about that. You were still covered in blood, and your clothes reeked of burnt flesh. Sam, who was fully healed, rubbed at his wrists to try and get the phantom feeling of the rope away. You almost made a joke about how a fucked up demon sat next to an equally fucked up angel, but the humor died on your tongue before you could get it out. It was just too much effort.

Sam sighed and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. "She was wrong, you know."

"About what?" You murmured so softly, you weren't sure you spoke out loud.

"About my feelings for you."

You sat up and groaned, feeling all of your muscles groan along with you. "Don't tease me, Sam. It actually hurts my feeling for you to lie to me like this."

"I'm not lying!"

"Sure, you're not."

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. The sincerity in his eyes made your stomach churn. You knew how this played out because he wasn't supposed to love you; he wasn't supposed to see you as anything but a demon. Not a single celestial being would ever approve of him falling in love with you, and you would never be able to find peace.

"Listen to me," he began with a small, hopeful smile, "I love you. Do I fully understand it? Absolutely not. You're crazy, and I'm pretty sure you kill pedophiles for breakfast. You also willingly kick toddlers, which I don't approve but…I love you."

"No one will approve us being together, you know," you whispered as if someone was already listening in on you. "Not God, not Nat, not Steve. They'll always have something to say about us."

"Then let's get out of here for a bit."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you want to go." You quickly glanced to the side, and he rolled his eyes. "If you make another comment about that confessional booth, I will lose my mind."

You softly laughed and leaned in ever so slightly. You were officially invading his space, but you weren't making the first move yet. You wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind, to come to his senses or whatever it was he needed to do, before he turned his back on everything he knew just to be with you. Would it hurt? Absolutely. But you needed to know that this was going to last between you two. You weren't sure if you could live with the heartbreak of losing Sam.

"I think you've already lost your mind, Sammy," you teased. "You want to be with a demon after all."

He cupped your cheek in his hand, gently stroking your bottom lip with his thumb. It was an act so intimate, it almost caught you off guard. He stared at you silently before his lips finally met yours, and you nearly collapsed into his arms with how ecstatic you were to finally get a taste of him.

The kiss was hungry - full of teeth and breathless groans. You were exploring every inch of each other that you possibly could without tearing each other's clothes off. Sam practically came to life underneath you as his hands roamed up your side. Your name died on his lips - a prayer only you could hear. You thought about pulling back and reminding him that you were in the house of his father, but that would require you to stop kissing him, and you had no intention of stopping any time soon.

When he finally pulled away from, your chests were heaving, and you smiled over at him. He appreciated how gentle your smile seemed now. Even with the dried blood on your skin, there was a warmth in your eye that made your smile fill his chest with joy. A lot less unhinged, he would say.

"So," you pushed his back against the pew and crawled onto his lap, your knees straddling either side of his thighs, "You said we could go anywhere in the world, right?"

"Besides the confessional booth," he retorted with a smile as he caressed the side of your face.

You paused, trying to get used to him looking at you like you were the only woman in the universe. It felt odd but not entirely in a bad way. You spent most of your time denying he could ever look at you this way, and here he was, proving your doubts wrong. You weren't sure if it made you want to cry or kiss him until he caved and pulled you right into the confessional.

He claimed you wouldn't convince him, but you'd get him to crack one day.

"Besides the confessional booth," you laughed. "I spent a lot of time here, pestering you and scaring children in the cemetery. I think it'd be nice to get out of the country, explore the world a little bit."

"You haven't done that already?"

You shook your head. "I spent a lot of time staying close to Nat. She needed a strong right-hand woman, and I was the one who wanted to fill the job. I mean, Maria is great, but she's better at handling souls and all their pesky little contracts."

"Where do you want to go then? We can go anywhere you want, and we can get there for free thanks to my wings."

"Can I convince you to give the confessional booth a whirl?"

Sam sighed dramatically, not in annoyance but enough to make you laugh. "Absolutely not."

"Fine," you pouted. "I guess we can start with Greece, as long as you agree to wear your orange v-neck again."

#buckysknifecollectionchallenge #sam wilson x reader #angel!sam wilson #demon!reader #sam wilson one shot #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson fic #angel au #marvel one shots #marvel imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel fics #sam wilson x you #angel!sam x demon!reader

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lisinfleur · 4 years ago

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Fyrir Ást

Author’s Notes | I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you reaching this mark! May the gods keep blessing you with this incredible talent and allowing us to bask in your stories! Congratulations one more time! Universe | Vikings Pairing | No pair Info | Viking Age AU, Fixing Plot AU, produced for @waiting4inspiration’s 9k Multiple of 3 Challenge | Prompt nº 12 | “Fyrir ást” means “For Love” in Icelandic Words | 1266 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, mentions of blood, wounds and pain. Some cursing.

The candles of your house were creating a middle light that enlightened the icy blue of his worried eyes over his feverish older brother on your bed. Two sons of Ragnar Loðbrók in your cabin - Thank the Gods you decided to keep yourself away from the center of the town or your place would certainly become a center of visitation for the next days. Thank the gods as well you had known Hvitserk at the time of their invasion to York, learned of their gods, and converted through your conversations with him at that time, when he was lost and sad by his older brother's departure, searching for his way he, sometimes, found into your arms. After he left, you thought you would never see Hvitserk Ragnarsson once again. But there he was, lying unconscious on your bed with his forehead covered in sweat and that infected wound on his chest, uncared by his own stupidity.

Or maybe by his unconditional love for his little brother so full of concern by his side now. Who would say Ivar the Boneless would grow into a man so fond of his brother like that? The same man that used to mock Hvitserk's dedication and loyalty was now there, suffering for what his brother had just done.

For him...

"How's your leg, Ivar?" you asked, probably breaking his line of thoughts since he looked at you surprised by your very existence by his side.

He was so out of himself...

"It's not important, woman. Hvitserk... When will he wake up?" he asked again.

The fiftieth time he was asking the same question.

"As I said the last forty-nine times, Ivar. He'll wake up when I manage to lower his temperature."

"Then do it!" he charged, causing you to sigh.

Still the same spoiled commander. But with way better reasons to be like that.

"Calm down, Ragnarsson. Your brother won't die," you granted, touching his shoulder.

"Why did he do this? Fuck, Hvitserk! Why did you do this, you idiot!" he cursed.

And you could bet he was holding back some tears behind those stupidly blue eyes.

Ivar's disease was way triggered. His eyes' whites were almost completely blue and you knew that broken leg wasn't unnatural in spite of the inhuman form it was twisted when they arrived.

If you had understood it right from what Ivar told you, they were in a battle against king Alfred closer to the Royal Villa when that happened. His body was weak, but Ivar insisted on advancing with the incursion because they had the advantage from the terrain. Hvitserk had warned him, but it wasn't enough for Ivar to listen and one of his legs couldn't handle his weight not even with the help of his braces. It broke into pieces throwing Ivar on the ground with a loud scream of terrible pain, leaving him at the mercy of the Saxons beside him, one of them ready to sink his sword through Ivar's chest and cease their major reason to fear the Norsemen's threats.

A strike that never came. Hvitserk came like a wild wolf, attacking the Saxons and protecting his fallen brother with fierceness Ivar said he'd never seen before. At the moment, in awe, Ivar said he wasn't able to see when his brother was wounded by a Saxon blade, but Hvitserk was quick in denying there was any kind of problem with him.

"I'm fine, he said. Hold on tight," Ivar narrated, telling you how his brother proceeded to carry him out of the battlefield on his own back, hiding in the woods to avoid being persecuted, walking away from the battle spot where his army was being defeated. "We fled like dogs," Ivar grunted, but as he said, at the end of the day, Hvitserk had a campfire placed, his leg tied to an improvised immobilizer his brother did out of his broken braces' pieces and two fat fishes Hvitserk had fished for them to eat.

"Hvitserk forced me to sleep," you remember him telling you. He prioritized his little brother over his own needs. And he carried Ivar all the way towards York. All the way towards your house where he knew you could care for his brother's wound.

"All the way through, always telling me nothing was wrong with his little grunts, nothing was wrong with his paleness. I'm tired, Ivar. You're heavy. Shut up, Ivar. Go to sleep. This bastard! Stupid moron! He was lying to me!"

Hvitserk knew he couldn't stop to care for his own wound. He didn't have the proper materials and the herbs he found were all for his brother's pain. Hvitserk knew if he had told Ivar he was wounded, his little brother wouldn't allow him to carry him through all the way, and without his crutch Ivar had lost at the battlefield, they would've never arrived at your home on time for Hvitserk's wound to still be treatable.

When they arrived at your door, Hvitserk was barely standing with his brother on his back and as soon as he had Ivar properly sat on a chair, safe from any damage, he fell on your ground, lying flat and feverish, unconscious but sure you would fulfill his last ask before fainting.

"Take care of Ivar... I know you know how."

You were a Saxon nurse before knowing his people. You had learned from his healers and became one yourself. Hvitserk had fought that whole way to bring his little brother into the safety of experienced hands that could help him with his condition. You knew why Hvitserk had done that.

You knew why he had lied more and more about his own wound, pretending nothing was wrong until his last strength.

You approached the laid prince, exchanging the cloth on his forehead for a new one with fresh water to lower his temperature, listening as Hvitserk grunted low, going back into his deep sleep. The wound - a cut in his chest - was now bandaged after you had scraped the dead flesh, got rid of the infected tissue, and covered it with an herbal paste that finished the smell of burned rotten flesh from the elder prince's body. Your fingers caressed the prince's loose hair, sighing.

Answering without looking at Ivar's face, maybe to give him space for the tears you knew he wasn't able to control and keep from falling.

"He did it out of love, Ivar," you said. "He did it because he loves you. Because he could stand all this pain, but he couldn't stand the idea of losing you or leaving you behind."

"He's stupid!" Ivar grunted.

The obvious knot in his throat hidden behind the hoarse voice.

"What would I do if he died, uh? What would I do without him?"

The angry voice of the younger prince became meeker. And you knew there wasn't any anger in those sentences at all.

"What would I do without you, brother?"

You held your smile into a slight curve. Hvitserk who had so long mourned his older brother's love on your shoulders, thinking he had abandoned the only one who had ever loved him; who would ever do it.

"What would I do without you?"

Hvitserk found love. And you were glad, somehow, to see he wasn't alone like he thought he would always be.

"You'll be fine, son of Ragnar," you got up, daring to caress Ivar's worried expression like once you dared to touch his older brother's crying face. "Both of you will."

You would care for them. And they would be alright.

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk and ivar #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #sister wives #multipleof3challenge #waiting4inspiration #9k celebration #congratulations love!

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cassieschaosdimension · 4 years ago

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I'm going to post this on tumblr instead of wattpad cause I'm like that, but this will be a collection of fanfic one shots from Draco's perspective giving him a redemption arc cause he deserves! Please let me know if you do want more after this.

The Train:

Eleven year old Draco Malfoy was standing on Platform Nine and Three Quarters hoping for a glimpse at the boy who lived. He like everyone else in the Wizarding world had grown up hearing his name. The story was one of legend and he wondered if Harry remembered it all. He was interrupted in his thoughts by two rambunctious red headed boys who brushed past him laughing loudly. He heard his father give a sniff of disapproval.

He pitied the boys even though he knee nothing about them. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was notorious for making sure none of his enemies were around to stop him. Draco had always wondered about the company his parents kept much perfering to stay in his room whilst they had any visitors at all.

"Draco darling," that was his mother. He sauntered over to where she was and listened to what she had to say. "Draco remember no matter what happens at school your father and I love you very much. We will write you as soon as we get home and eagerly await your owl. Chin up, back straight. Malfoys and Blacks do not slouch."

Nodding his head Draco says "Yes mother. I love both of you too. And I can't wait to see the castle with the lake and my classes. Mom, do you think people will like me? What if I can't make any friends? I don't want to hang out with Blaise or Crabbe and Goyle or Pansy. They're mean and stuck up to people."

"Just be yourself darling and remember what I told you. Go see your father." Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, formerly known as Black, was a thin woman who demanded respect when she walked into a room. No one ever knew what she was thinking, but one thing they knew was she loved her family dearly. She would do anything to keep her son safe and away from harm.

Draco walks over to his father. "Draco, while you're at Hogwarts please try to remember we are not like the others. We are of noble blood and we must be treated as such. Do not let others get you down. You are a Malfoy and the name of Malfoy has demanded respect for centuries. Do not mess it up. Have fun at Hogwarts, but do not forget what I have told you. Get on the train."

Mr. Lucius Malfoy did not have the best childhood and when Narcissa became pregnant he vowed to protect his son from harm. He did this by only letting him intermingle with those of his own kind. Pureblood was what Draco was so pureblood it was. He made sure his son had a normal childhood. Well as normal as he would let him.

After hugging and kissing his mother and shaking hands with his father Draco runs excitedly onto the train waiting to see if he could make any friends before he even got to Hogwarts. After looking into one compartment on the train he shies always from that one. It had really tall, really loud people in it! He didn't want that at all.

Another compartment had only girls. His only experience with girls his own age had been Pansy and he wasn't eager to find out if all girls were like her. She was enough to deal with. He wanted a group of guy friends. Crabbe and Goyle did what he said because his father was the boss of their fathers. They weren't his friends. They had to do whatever he said and he didn't like it. He wanted to have stimulating conversations like he had with his mother over tea.

Whenever Pansy and her parents came over she was so mean to the poor house elves Draco always went and apologized for her behavior. The house elves were sad to see him go off to school, but they were excited too.

Draco was not excited to leave his only friends behind. His parents had always taught him to look down on the house elves, but he was nice to them in secret. He didn't feel nice knowing he had to be mean to people. Elves were just like witches and wizards only different and way way shorter.

"Excuse me. Coming through. Lee has a trantula for us to look at. Budge along." It was the two rambunctious red headed boys who had brushed him going onto the platform. When they got to where Draco was their patient look turned sour.

The one on the right looked at the one on the left and said "Pardon me your Highness. Will you let us pass to get to our compartment?" Draco didn't like the tone he used. He wasn't doing anything wrong. The train hadn't even started to move yet!

"Oh yeah," Draco pressed himself up against the wall to let the two pass. He didn't like these two and hoped he wouldn't have to interact with them in class. They looked older though like they were definitely not first years. In fact all of these people looked a lot older than he was.

Draco was starting to get scared and started to stumble along the long, velvet carpeted, hallway separating the compartments from the platform.

With each peek into a compartment, he was getting worried. He had yet to see any people who looked like first years. At one compartment he saw Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy and immediately lurched past with his head down.

Shaken up at seeing them he stepped into a random compartment and was relieved to see a round faced brown haired boy with a toad sitting next to him. This boy looked like a first year like him.

"May I sit down?" Draco asked politely.

The boy looked to Draco and jumped in surprise. "Yes, yes you can. My name is Neville Longbottom and this is Trevor." He gestured to the tod sitting next to him. "Sit down and close the compartment please, Trevor might escape like he's tried four times already."

Grinning at the warm greeting, Draco complied. He stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Draco Malfoy. It's really nice to meet you Neville! I hope we can be friends!"

At the name Malfoy, Neville shot up in his seat in alarm. "M-mal-malfoy?! As in the Death Eaters?!" He started to fidget and panic.

Draco looked at the poor boy in utter confusion. "Former Death Eaters. Are you okay Neville?"

Eyes wide in fright Neville grabs Trevor and huddles at the furthest edge of the compartment. Away from Draco as if he had a disease. Draco wanted to cry. Here was a first year boy who looked terrified of him because of his name. He didn't understand why Neville was so scared. His parents weren't Death Eaters anymore and they only did it because He - Who - Must - Be - Named made them! All he wanted was a real friend!

Draco on the verge of tears turns to go. As soon as he opens the door he's met with a mane of brown, frizzy, bushy hair. He falls backwards in shock and hears a whimper from Neville.

"Hello. Everywhere else is full. They're about to depart so would you mind letting me into the compartment they would be wonderful." The bushy haired girl says with authority. "I would like to be seated when the lurch is felt. Excuse me."

She pushes past him and Draco stands up and when he's turned around the scene he looks at is chaotic.

Neville stands up to leap after Trevor, who with the door open, makes his way hopping faster than Draco expected towards freedom.

All else forgotten Neville screams "Grab him!" The bushy haired girl lunges for the toad and misses. Now it's Draco's turn to redeem himself in Neville's eyes. He too lunges for the toad and manages to grasp his left hind leg before he falls flat on his face his grip loosening on the toad who hope away unaware of the chaos he is about the cause.

Neville's face is distraught. "My great uncle Algie gave me Trevor when I got accepted into Hogwarts. See they didn't expect me to get in. I didn't show any signs until I got pushed off the Blackwell Pier. They expected me to drown, but I didn't!"

Draco and the girl exchange concerned glances. Draco knows that any Wizarding family will have almost all of their family members accepted unless they're a Squib and he's sure his family tree doesn't have any Squibs.

"So you're a pureblood?" Draco says cautiously accidentally falling into the girl who just sat down as the train gives a lurch just as the girl said.

The girl huffs and moves to give Draco room to sit and he smiles gratefully at her. He's never seen her before and she seems to give off the same air he does and he wonders if she's a pureblood from another country. As she speaks again he realizes they sound the same.

"Oh purebloods! I've read about them. They're the silly witches and wizards who think that half-bloods and Muggleborns are scum. I find that absolutely atrocious as I am a Muggleborn myself," the girl turns to Draco. "My guess is you're a pureblood?"

When he nods she starts to lecture him. "You all should be ashamed of yourselves! I read that if you guys didn't marry outside of your circle you would have died out! The mindset is completely rubbish and shouldn't even be put into practice. And at a school no less!"

Neville and Draco look at her shocked. For such a tiny girl she can inflict fear into anyone with that tone. "I'm Hermione Granger. And what House do you hope to be in? Personally I want to end up in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor as Slytherin seems filled with selfish and mean people and Hufflepuff seems filled with pushovers." (please don't hate me I adore the Houses remember she is basing them off of what she read in Hogwarts: A History it was really hard to insult my own House HUFFLEPUFF for life 💛💙💚♥️ fair House representation)

At this Draco swells. "Excuse me! My whole family has been in Slytherin for centuries and I can tell you we are not selfish and mean people! We care for the greater good!" (Just so you know I do not condone this type of thinking. This is just so wrong on so many levels this is just how he was raised remember that)

Neville seems to shrink into his corner again at the last three words and Draco instantly regrets. He wants Neville as a friend and now maybe he won't want to be his friend!

Hermione turns towards him so fast her hair slaps him in the face. "You sound like Grindelwald! He sounded like you! Are you a supporter of He Who Must be Named?! They were both awful men! How can you sit there saying that when they did such horrible things!"

Fear starts to creep into his eyes. These two do not like him. He is only repeating what he's heard his parents say! Should he say that? The words pop out before he can stop them. "My parents taught me that and I'm sorry if that was wrong all I want are real friends for once! Please give me a chance!"

Hermione looks at Neville and walks over to him. They converse in hushed voices. Draco's heart begins to sink. Will they give him a chance to be their friend?! All he wants is a real friend he count on! He doesn't think he wants to be a Malfoy if this what the name gives him.

The waiting is agonizing. It seems like forever when they suddenly turn to him and Neville says, "How do we know you're not lying? Your mom's sister made my parents insane! I had to be raised by my grandma! I love her, but I miss my parents!"

Hermione rubs his back and looks at Draco. "Okay, we don't trust you, but we are willing to give you a chance. Now, please help us find Trevor. He's special to Neville and he doesn't want to start Hogwarts without him. Please help us look for him."

Draco sensing a wonderful opportunity stands eagerly and nods. "Where do you want to start? Should we split up or stay together? Personally I think we should stay together because all of those people out there are scary."

The two stare at him in shock. They were not expecting him to jump up so suddenly and agree wholeheartedly.

Hermione says split up and Neville agrees, but then Draco pointed out no one would tell him anything since almost everyone knew who he was anyway. Finally it was agreed Neville would go on his own and Draco and Hermione would ask together.

Neville heads off to the left towards the front of the train because that's where he thinks Trevor would have gone. Hermione and Draco head towards the back of the train.

The first few compartments they encounter will only tell Hermione if they saw Trevor or not and ignored Draco completely. He wants to cry. Is the Malfoy name really making people not like him?! But they don't even know him! How are they supposed to know they don't like him if they don't know him?!

The last compartment holds two boys: one very red headed and one with round glasses and black hair. Draco had learned to hang back while Hermione does the asking. When she asks, they say no. The red headed boy pulls out a wand and Draco inches closer to see a real spell done. His mother made him promise not to use his wand until his first class because he could hurt people and he agreed.

The red haired boy says something about rats, daisies and yellow. As expected the rest does not turn yellow. Hermione scoffs and then fixes the black haired boy's glasses.

When the red haired boy introduces himself as Ron Weasley, Draco wrinkles his nose. He can't help it. His father says the Weasleys are blood traitors and Mugglelovers. He was always taught they were bad, but now he's not so sure.

Then when the black haired boy says his name is Harry Potter, Draco surges forward. As he comes into view Ron turns away in disgust and he deflates a little bit. He's going to have to be careful in how he says things. "Hello! My name is Draco Malfoy and I'm also looking for Neville's toad. I'm assuming since this is the last compartment he's not here. Hermione, I'm going to head back to the compartment to see if Neville found him."

With a smile and wave goodbye he leaves the three of them stunned into silence. The smile falls off his face as he trudges with a heavy heart towards the compartment to put his robes on. He realizes he should only stick to the people he has already met and he vows to steer clear of Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy for as long as he can and since they'll be in Slytherin like him it'll be hard. He'll manage.

He puts his robes in in the empty compartment and waits for Neville and Hermione to come back. Hopefully they will since their trucks are here. Smiling to himself at the he stares out the window already imaging what fun things he can do with his new friends!

Thank you for reading it! I hope you enjoyed it!

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #hogwarts #hermione granger #ron weasley #neville longbottom

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schattenjagd · 5 years ago

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Hold on

A/N: This Oneshot/Songfic is my contribution to @xxwritemeastoryxx 1K Celebration Writing Challenge. Congratulations again ! I’m so happy for you :) So this has really turned out differently than I thought at first and maybe the length got a little out of hand, but I hope you like it. So, two weeks of work, two root canal treatments and a jaw abscess later we are finally here and you don't believe how happy I am. Oh, and I just have to say that english isn’t my native language. So sorry for any spelling or grammatical mistakes.

Prompt : “Please...stay.” (I will make it bold)

Word Count : 10.6K - Yeah, like I said : It maybe got a little teeny tiny bit out of hand.

Warnings : Angst, major character death, deadly disease Okay, this Fic is like the saddest I have ever written. If you are offended or triggered by any of these warnings, please read at your own risks.

Pairing : Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

This was inspired Chord Overstreet’s beautiful yet so sad song “Hold on”

youtube

Loving and Fighting

An icy cold went through Elijah when quietly opened the door to the intensive care unit and entered the room. It almost seemed as if a black veil was suddenly covering him.

His hands were shaking. It was a long time ago since they had last done it, but now they didn't want to stop. His whole body trembled at the thought of what awaited him.

Her quiet and weak heartbeat was drowned out by the shrill, constant beeping of the heart rate monitor and Elijah swallowed hard. Her heart had always been so strong, always so loud. Its tone had given him strength. But now that he heard it only so weakly, it seemed to have drained his strength.

She was no longer wearing the colorful dress she wore in the afternoon. In the shock room, it had been taken off and exchanged for a drab hospital gown. He could hear the rustling of her blood and his eyes fell on the pronule that she had on her left arm and with which she was given strong pain relievers.

He hadn't noticed that he had stopped. He looked at her closely and when he saw her like this, he felt like he had really failed for the first time in his life.

Slowly, he took a few steps across the room and quickly blinked the tears in his eyes away. He had to be strong now; strong for her.

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed and looked at her. Her face looked cramped and sunken. Her otherwise red lips were dry and pale, as was her skin. The sight frightened him. She looked so weak so ... lifeless.

He cautiously reached for her hand and stroked gentle circles on the back of it hand with his thumb. He timidly heard her heart beating faster and saw her move a little.

"Hey," he said softly as he watched her eyelids start to flicker. It seemed to be an act of strength for her and yet he felt her gently squeeze his hand.

,,You are here."

Her mouth was dry and it was difficult for her to even say a few words at all, but she smiled when she could feel his presence and forced herself to open her eyes slowly. Slowly she turned her head and finally looked at him from cloudy, y/e/c eyes.

"Yes," he replied, and the corners of his mouth also rose a little. ,,I wont leave you."

I can‘t imagine a world with you gone

The music was loud. Way too loud.

The courtyard was illuminated by cool blue and purple lamps. People strolled through the courtyard in extravagant robes, waving their overpriced champagne in their hand and chatting with other important people.

The short version was that Y/N wished to be anywhere else, just not here. Parties had never been her thing and never would be. The only reason she was here was her old student friend Cami, whom she had met during her semester abroad in New York. And now that Y/N had recently moved to New Orleans, Cami hadn't missed the opportunity to let her know about its nightlife. However, she didn’t expect that with “nightlife” she meant such an extravagant party for the super rich.

,, Ow, don’t make that face. Come on, have a drink. "

"I don't make a face," denied Y/N and let her friend give her a glass of champagne. "I just should have known where you were going to take me when I saw the dress."

Y/N looked demonstratively down at herself and looked briefly at the long, burgundy and tight-fitting dress with the slit on the side that flattered her figure. She brushed a strand of her y/ h/c hair from her face, which had loosened itself from the elaborate up-do, and sipped on the expensive but extremely bitter champagne.

"I hope this Klaus is worth it," she grumbled and Cami gave her a warning look.

"It's not because of him," she said a little too quickly and Y/N grinned to herself.

"Of course not," she murmured instead and was left shortly afterwards when her friend had spotted said acquaintance and disappeared.

"No, of course it's not because of him," Y/N said to herself as she looked after her friend and sighed. Looked like she was the one to fil the gap for the time when Klaus wasn't there to keep Cami busy.

Instead, Y/N went looking for the bar and was happy that free drinks appeared to be a high priority for the rich.

"Whiskey on ice, please," she ordered from the bartender, put her half-full champagne glass on the bar and smoothed her dress.

"The same for me, please."

She squinted at what she was doing when she heard a deep male voice only a few yards away. He looked good, even she had to admit that. He was wearing a suit, had one hand casually in his pocket, and was leaning against the bar with the other.

"The champagne does not seem strong enough for you", he noted,, looking over at her.

Y/N looked back and sipped the drink she had just received. "Unfortunately not nearly."

"You don't seem to enjoy the celebrations as much as many others here," he said and now turned completely to her, leaning his side against the counter.

"No, you're right," she agreed, taking another sip of her drink. "I'm afraid I'm playing in a different league than yours."

Y/N had already noticed because of his suit and how it flattered his well-built body that he must be one of those super rich who attended such a party every week.

"You accommodated yourself very well for that," he replied, and Y/N could see the slight twitch of the corners of his mouth as he eyed her from top to bottom and let his eyes slide over her dress. She blushed.

"Thank you, then I did everything right, I guess," she laughed softly and took another sip.

"I'm sure of that," he smiled, taking a quick look around the crowd. ,, But I am curious: Others would commit murders for an invitation. Why don't you ? "

,, I ? Murdering for something like this ? Certainly not,” waved Y/N off. ,, So, the music. It is much too loud and ... inappropriate ? I don’t know. And the champagne. A bottle probably costs as much as my car, and yet it tastes just like the cheap one from the gas station, which always makes me sick.”

In her heated list she didn’t notice how he listened to her attentively, not taking his eyes off of her and the corners of his mouth rising further with each of her words.

"To be honest, I'd much rather sit in front of my TV in my pajamas and watch some junk. Excuse my directness, but it’s just exactly like that. "

When she finally looked back at him after all, she misinterpreted his grin. ,, Oh my god, I didn't mean to offend you. That was totally rude, that ... "

"It's alright," he calmed her down and took a sip of his whiskey. ,,Everyone has their own opinion. I am not a friend of big celebrations myself, my brother sees it differently. But from time to time those are necessary. "

Y/N nodded, she understood. In today's world, splendid parties weren’t only there for fun, but also to make new contacts or maybe find and convince trading partners.

"I am Elijah."

Her eyes darted back to him and he could see the y/e/c flashing briefly. She gave him a bright smile and took his hand. "Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, Elijah."

"The pleasure is mine."

He also smiled sincerely at her and Y/N actually got a little dizzy. Well, the man in front of her was handsome, charming, nice ... What more could a woman want ?

"Mister Mikaelson ?"

And he was the organizer of this party.

Y/N's smile slipped from her face and she couldn't put it back there when she saw another man in a suit approaching Elijah.

Her eyes widened in shock and she looked at him in panic as he turned back to her. ,, It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. And thank you for your honesty, ” he replied charmingly and by no means unkindly. As if in a trance, she watched him blow a kiss on the back of her hand and then disappear into the crowd. Frozen, she looked after him.

"I see, you got to know Klaus’ brother. "

"Yes, after telling him that I think his party is shit."

Cami laughed next to her and sipped her champagne glass. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut. I should’ve known," she laughed.

,, He’s one of them. But he doesn’t look like them. "

"Like an Original vampire ?"

Y/N shook her head and watched Elijah talk seriously to the man who had just interrupted their conversation. "Not in the slightest."

Cami just shrugged and emptied the rest of her glass. ,,What can I say ? You are a witch. Nothing should really surprise you anymore. "

Y/N just swallowed and looked at her friend with a frown, turned back to the bar. "Okay, now I need something really strong."

The joy and the chaos, the demons we‘re made of

That evening was a long time ago. When Y/N woke up that morning, she was awakened by the jazz music that flew through the open window from the streets into the bedroom. She blinked a few times and looked around briefly as she opened her eyes fully.

She was lying in a big bed, wrapped in a soft duvet with an even softer pillow.

When she tried to turn on her back, she became aware of the strong arms that were wrapped around her waist and which pressed her tightly against him.

Y/N smiled and turned carefully in his arms.

Elijah was still sleeping, but he didn't seem to want to let her go even in his sleep. Carefully, she raised a hand to brush a strand of hair from his face and looked at the brunette. They had danced around each other for a long time now, had never come closer; the family had always been a higher priority for Elijah. It was a chaos of feelings. Until Esther captured him. She didn't know what she had let him see, but he had been different when he returned yesterday.

Y/N smiled slightly at the feel of his skin on hers and drawed gentle patterns on his chest with her fingers, closing her eyes.

She opened her eyes when she felt him quickly grabbing her hand and stopping her by planting a kiss on her fingertips.

Slowly, she raised her head and smiled. "How long have you been awake ?"

"Long enough to know how you looked at me."

He also opened his eyes at his words, gently looked down at her, which only made her smile wider. She raised her head and squinted at the old clock between the windows. Y/N groaned in agony.

,,What ?"

"My shift in the hospital starts in two hours," she sighed, dropping her head back onto his chest. "I have to go."

,,I do not think so."

Her eyes fell back to Elijah while he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him. Y/N laughed when he let his fingertips dance across her waist and breathed gentle kisses on her neck. "Elijah, I'm serious, as much as I would like to stay here in this bed, I have to go to work."

"Hmh," he just agreed and put his lips on hers and caught her in a hot and steaming kiss. Y/N involuntarily groaned when she let his tongue in and when she could feel something pressing against her stomach.

Half an hour later, Y/N groped barefoot through the old halls of the Mikaelson estate. She had slipped pn Elijah's white shirt from the night before and was looking for her top that she had lost on the way to his bedroom last night.

"So, you're the woman my brother gave his heart to."

Y/N paused at the unmistakable accent. The door next to her was open and she could see Klaus standing in front of an easel with a painting brush in his hand. She swallowed briefly when she remembered that she was actually only wearing panties and Elijah's shirt, but remained confident in the doorframe.

“Seems so. Any problems with that ?"

"Actually, yes."

Y/N involuntarily took a breath and frowned as the hybrid slowly walked towards her. "And that would be ?" She asked bravely.

He just gave her a mild smile. “Even if you witches are very good at nighttime activities - and you are, judged by the sounds you and my brother made last night and just now - you're a pain in the ass. "

Y/N smiled mildly. She knew about Klaus' Mikaelson's aversion to witches and had already been prepared for something like that. From the moment that Cami introduced her to him and he learned what she was, he had been against her. Klaus Mikaelson hated witches even though he his daughter was one.

"I know you aren't particularly addicted to witches," she replied carefully. "But I have no bad intentions towards your family, believe me."

"Yes, if Celeste DuBois had told me, I would have believed her, too."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. She knew who this witch was, had helped to kill her herself, and yet Klaus didn't trust her in the least. She turned to walk away, but his voice stopped her.

"You don't know about the red door, do you?"

Y/N paused. Slowly, she took a step back and looked again from the door frame to Klaus, who smiled contentedly. "The red door," he continued when he saw her look. ,, All my brother's demons; all the people he killed. The victims, all the suffering he has done. "

Y/N opened her mouth and closed it again. She knew what this was going to be. Klaus wanted to unsettle and intimidate her. But Y /N had known who she was dealing with from the start and the man she had fallen in love with.

"I know about all of this," she lied, proudly raising her chin. ,,I know what you're trying and it won't work, Klaus. I'm not one of those gullible, weak, little witches."

When her tone got a little too sharp, he took another few steps towards her. "Is that supposed to be a threat, love ?"

Y/N swallowed and looked up at him. She concentrated, looked him straight in the eye. Satisfied, she noticed how beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. Klaus gasped, his eyes widening slightly as his blood started to boil.

,,No of course not. For such a pain in the ass like me, it's really foolish to threaten the Original Hybrid, isn't it? "

He struggled for words and the two were only interrupted when Y/N heard the footsteps behind them.

,,That's enough now. Niklaus, Y/N. "

Klaus gasped abruptly as he got cool again and Y/N broke eye contact when she looked behind her at Elijah.

The relationship between her and Klaus Mikaelson had always been ... special.

Elijah held the top she was looking for in her hand and she quickly took it from him and disappeared back towards his bedroom. She didn't hear Elijah's words to his brother: "If she gets hurt, she dies, if she catches a fever, if she gets bitten, she gets hit by lightning, anything - anything happens to her, brother, you will pay for it. "

I‘d be so lost if you left me alone

Many months later, Y/N left the hospital where she worked at exhausted and overtired. Her feet ached and killed her. An emergency heart operation had given her a 36-hour shift and she just wanted to sleep.

Exhausted, she climbed up the stairs to her apartment, kicked the now uncomfortable sneakers off her feet after she closed the apartment door behind her and threw her handbag into the next corner. When Y/N took off her jacket and hung it on the coat hook, she paused. It smelled of ... food.

She raised her eyebrows in confusion and groped across the hall into the living room. On the dining table were two plates of pasta that seemed to be still hot. A slight smile crept onto her lips when she recognized Elijah. He was standing with his back to her leaning over the kitchen counter. But when he turned to her, her heart skipped a beat and the smile disappeared. She swallowed hard.

There was pain in his eyes. She could see it, see how hurt and disappointed he was. He lifted the package insert of the pills on the kitchen counter and pointed to it. "I found these when I was looking for matches."

Y/N glanced for a split second to the candles that were on the table and then back to Elijah. Her heart contracted painfully at the sight of him and she could feel the tears coming up.

"When did you want to tell me ?"

Y/N swallowed and took a few steps towards him. She reached for his hands, but he pulled back. A stab in her heart. She could hear the pain in his voice and hated herself for being the source of it. She took a deep breath and didn't know what to say. She wanted to scream and cry at the same time.

She carefully arranged her words. "I got the diagnosis shortly after I met you at the party."

Elijah swallowed, looked at the half-empty pills pack on the kitchen shelf. He kept his eyes down, but he could see the tears that had formed in her eyes.

She licked her dry lips. ,, My mother has already died because of it. Actually, it skips a generation in our family but ... "

"How much time do you have left ?"

Y/N fell silent. She hadn't been prepared for this question and when she became aware of the answer, she pressed her lips together in a thin line. A telltale tear rolled down her cheeks and more followed. She bit her lower lip to keep herself from sobbing and the only thing she could do was shrug her shoulders. "I - I don't know ...", she brought out with difficulty and more tears followed. "It was recognized too late and the only thing that keeps me on my feet are these," she pointed to the pills. ,, There is no cure and ... I don't know, Elijah. I - I have no idea. I don’t know."

"Hush," he said reassuringly, pulling her close as her body began to shake and tears ran down her cheeks uncontrollably. Her fingers reach for his vest for help and she closed her eyes. He could hear her sobbing and every further one was another stab in his heart.

"I didn't want to tell you anything because ...", she started and was interrupted by another sob. "I - I didn't want you to only see this disease in me then."

Y/N looked up when she felt him brush a strand of hair from her face and behind her ear. "I could never do that."

Y/N smiled sadly, but she could see the pain that had cast a dark shadow on his face.

Elijah closed his eyes when he hugged her tightly. He breathed in her smell, that fine scent of lavender and vanilla and he put a hand comfortingly on the back of her head, placed a loving kiss on her head.

The prospect of not being able to do all this anytime soon frightened him. He would never be able to smell her smell again, never again would he feel her soft skin or lips on his, never again could he hold her. He felt that someone had torn his heart out and for the first time in his life he thought he knew what all the victims he had done this to had felt. The woman in his arms would die. He didn't know when yet, but she would and he thought he was cursed. Tatia, Katerina, Celeste ... All the women he loved died. Loving him was a death sentence. And now, the first woman he saw at his side in eternity was doomed to die. With all the dangers like werewolves, Mikael, Esther, Dhalia, the Strix ... A deadly disease seemed almost ridiculously primitive, and yet it reminded Elijah of the incredible vulnerability of humans.

"I'll find a way," he said as he buried his face in her y/ h/c hair, so Y/N couldn't see the tear that escaped one of his eyes.

She smiled at his confidence. ,, There is no way, Elijah. No vampire blood, no back door, no loophole."

"You won't die," he replied firmly. "And if I can't move heaven ..."

"... I will raise hell."

You locked yourself in the bathroom Lying on the floor when I break through

The mood in the past few weeks had been tense. A new force and new enemies of the Mikaelson had risen from the darkness and were now chasing the family.

Y/N had been living in the Mikaelson estate for a long time now, Elijah had insisted that he could "protect" her better this way. But Y/N was sure that there were other advantages that he derived from the fact that they now lived together. She always successfully repressed the thought that it was because they had already been allowed too much time together and instead put it down to the fact that she could help them with her witch skills.

While Elijah and Klaus were out, she was sitting with Freya in the fireplace room over a stack of old grimoires when the two heard a rumble in the courtyard. Both women looked up in alarm and Y/N's eyebrows raised suspiciously. "I thought you’d cast a boundary spell."

"I did."

Y/N swallowed hard and got up - just like her friend -, following her out of the room into the gallery. She walked quietly after the blonde, careful not to make a sound.

,,Find them ! Now !"

Y/N's blood froze in her veins when she heard a man's deep voice and then the steps of the vampires hurrying up the stairs to the first floor.

"Damn it," Freya swore, immediately turned and pushed Y/N in front of her, towards the nursery, in which little Hope had already started to cry.

Silently, Y/N let the blonde allow, pushed open the door to the nursery and Freya locked it behind them.

Y/M immediately turned to the little girl, carefully lifting her out of bed and rocking her to and fro in her arms. "It’s alright, hush," she said reassuringly and gave Freya a troubled look. "How did they break the spell ?"

"I have no idea, but now we have other problems," Freya replied and looked around the room.

"What do you think, how many are down there ?"

Freya shrugged. ,, Maybe a dozen. I couldn't see much. "

,,And what do we do now ?"

"We won't let ourselves be killed until my brothers arrive."

Y/N frowned. ,,You gotta be kidding me."

"We have to get Hope out of here safely. I distract them, you take her and hide. Protect my niece."

Y/N looked suspiciously at her friend. She didn't like her plan and she had a bad gut ffeling, apart from the dizziness that has haunted her since the vampires surfaced and her body was on alert.

Y/N had no way to say anything against the other witch's plan, because in the same second the first vampire burst through the door, that shattered under its weight.

"Now !" Freya called, dodging the attacking vampire and ramming a wooden pole through his back into his heart.

Y/N looked wide-eyed at her for a moment, then took off running when she realized that she had a small, helpless child in her arms.

She disappeared through the side door into Klaus' adjoining bedroom. The rest of the vampires, spurred on by Freya, rushed into Hope's nursery while Y/N ran through the hallways of the property, trying to calm the little girl on her arm and find a safe hiding place.

And then she heard footsteps in the hallway. She cast a panicked look over her shoulder, couldn't see the vampire who was apparently on her heels, and with luck, she hadn't been spotted. Nevertheless, Y/N quickly opened the next best door and found herself in one of the old guest rooms. Looking around in panic, she saw the door to the adjoining bathroom and disappeared into it.

The bathroom was small and old, but at first it seemed safe. Y/N carefully placed the toddler on the floor. She closed her eyes in submission when she heard the door to the bedroom open again.

She was afraid of what was to come and briefly rubbed Hope's cheeks. The little one had become calm now and was looking at Y/N with big gesture eyes, almost as if she understood what was going on.

Y/N took a deep breath, crouched, and left the bathroom.

"I think you took the wrong room."

Y/N looked around. A pencil lay on the old, dusty desk. Maybe it could help her.

The vampire in front of her grinned broadly and slightly shook his head. ,,I don’t think so."

At the same time, his eyes grew darker and the veins under them became visible. Y/N had just enough time to took a step away when he rushed towards her - but he caught her anyway. She flew in a high arc through the room and landed on the desk that gave in under her weight. A sharp pain went through her spine when she painfully hit the floor and the splinters of wood pierced her back uncomfortably. Desperately, Y/N tried to drive the blackness out of her field of vision and gasped. Hope had started to cry again.

Dazed, Y/N had to watch the vampire straighten up and walk slowly towards the bathroom door.

She clumsily raised one arm and made a sweeping, swift gesture, whereupon the vase on the old wooden chest hit the vampire's head with a muffled sound.

Y/N struggled to her feet. "Don't you dare touch her."

The vampire grunted deeply and angrily while the laceration on the back of his head slowly healed and he turned to face her. "That was your death sentence, witch."

Y/N pressed her lips together, could barely raise one hand when the vampire started to attack her again. He cringed painfully when this throbbing pain in his head became unbearable and one aneurysm after another burst.

Y/N quickly took a few steps back, looking around. She would have to get past him to get to Hope's and into the bathroom and to be able to entrench them there. Her eyes fell to the broken desk and the large pieces of wood. But before she even put foot in that direction, she felt a hand wrapping around her ankle and yanking her off her feet. Again, she hit the ground hard and this time it wasn’t so easy to get the blackness out of her sight.

She screamed angrily, turned to her back, but the vampire was already over her. His fist whipped down on her jaw and Y/N’s sight went black again. She gasped as a throbbing pain spread through her jaw.

"A real waste," said the vampire, pulling her into a sitting position, causing Y/N to groan in pain. She could see how he was looking at her, how the pulsating veins were slowly visible under his eyes and she widened her eyes.

"No," she pleaded weakly, and immediately cried out in pain when she felt his sharp teeth pierce the delicate skin on her neck. Her skin burned like fire and she could feel the pressure in her carotid artery as the vampire slowly sucked the life out of her. No, she definitely won’t get killed by a vampire now, certainly not.

Resolutely, she drove the dancing asterisks out of sight, hit the vampire wildly with one hand, and groped for a piece of the desk with the other. And her heart skipped a joyful beat when she actually felt a long piece of wood in her hand. She gripped it tightly, raised it and shortly thereafter the wood pierced the heart of the vampire, who was only gurgling now. His eyes widened, his skin slowly turning gray.

Y/N gasped, pressed her hand onto the bleeding wound on her neck, and tried to control her pulse. Her heart pumped her blood through her body at three times the speed of panic, and it was a miracle that her already weakened body hadn’t given up yet.

Hope. She abruptly stood up, staggered helplessly for a few moments until she regained her balance, and then staggered toward the bathroom door. With a shaky finger, she opened the door and pushed it shut behind her shortly thereafter.

She instantly took the little girl in her arms again. ,, Hush, everything is fine. It’s alright, ”calmed Y/N/N Hope and then turned to the door. While she held the girl with one hand, she directed the other towards the door. "Apné sà mene," she casted the room isolation spell, which was supposed to protect her and the child from the rest of the vampires. ,, Apné sà mene. Apné sà mene. "

Y/N swallowed at the returning dizziness. The spell had worked, she knew that. If their enemies have no witch on their side, she and Hope would be safe in here. She anxiously blinked several times to drive the blackness out of her sight. That wasn’t good, definitely not. This excitement, the fight with the vampire, the loss of blood, now the exertion by this spell. It was too much for her weakened body.

"We sit down, okay ?" Y/N spoke lazily to Hope in her arms, held her tightly and then went down to the floor, leaning lazily with her back against the bathtub. Suddenly she was incredibly tired. There was nothing she could do about it when her hand, which she had pressed on the bite wound on her neck, fell down to her side. She was just glad that she was holding Hope tightly and that she was safe.

Already when Klaus and Elijah saw the main door, which was wide open, they sprinted into the courtyard. About a dozen vampires lay motionless on the cold ground. Someone must have broken their necks. The two brothers could hear fighting noises from the second floor.

,,For God's sake."

Elijah looked at the lifeless vampires at his feet with his eyes wide open before he heard the sounds of the fight.

"They’re in Hope’s nursery," the brunette stated, when his brother had already let out a deep growl and was gone. Elijah quickly followed him, repressing the panic fear that threatened to spread inside him. Nothing should have happened to her.

When Elijah arrived in the door frame, Klaus was already holding the heart of a vampire, whose head was rolling over the wooden floor, in his hand.

"It's great that you finished your Sunday stroll," the blood-soaked blonde said when she saw her two brothers.

,,Where’s my daughter ?"

,, Y/N fled with her. I don’t know where they are."

Elijah's heart skipped a beat and he and his brother exchanged a look before Klaus burst out of the devastated children's room.

"Y/N !" He screamed so that it echoed through the old walls of the building and trudged off, Elijah was close on his heels.

Elijah swallowed hard, looked around in search. She couldn't have run down the stairs to the main portal, that would have been too dangerous. He knew Y/N, knew that she wouldn't do anything that would endanger Hope’s welfare. No, she must still be in the property, looking for somewhere safe to hide with his niece. And for the first time in his life, he prayed. He prayed that they were alright.

"Y/N !" Klaus called again and was forced by his brother to stop. He glowed at him.

"What is it, Elijah ? ..."

Just when the hybrid wanted to add something, Elijah held up a hand and Klaus fell silent. Now he was listening carefully, too.

A whimper was carried to them quietly, very quietly. Elijah swallowed. It was his niece who made this sound and he closed his eyes for a moment.

,,Here."

Klaus started to move with vampire speed, Elijah followed his brother through the several corridors to the open door of an old guest room.

Perplexed, the brunette stopped in the door frame. The room was completely devastated. The shards of an old vase were scattered all over the floor, the old desk was now just wood splinters and a dead vampire was lying in the middle with a piece of said wood in his heart. There was an unpleasantly penetrating smell of blood in the air and Elijah's heart contracted painfully. He inflated his nostrils. It was her blood, no doubt. He saw the drops of blood that led to the bathroom like breadcrumbs and clenched his hands into fists.

Klaus wasn’t in the slightest interested, his thoughts were all about his daughter, whose whimper was dampened by the locked door of the bathroom.

"Y/N ?!" He called and wanted to bang on the door, but barely touching it, he flew across the room and landed between the remains of the desk. "Tell your girlfriend to break her barrier spell," Klaus growled angrily.

Elijah hurried to the door too, but didn't touch it. "Y/N ?" He asked carefully, listening intently. ,,It’s alright, it’s me."

"Freya !" Niklaus meanwhile called his sister in the background ,whose hasty steps Elijah could already hear.

"Y/N ?" Asked the brunette once again, but he didn't get an answer. His fingernails pierced painfully in the heel of his hand as he continued to clench his hands into fists. If anything had happened to her, she would have been ... He swallowed hard.

"Y/N, I beg you, open the door," he continued to plead and briefly closed his eyes. Something worried him so that he fell silent. Klaus, who misinterpreted his brother's behavior, narrowed his eyes and came up to him, looking at him questioningly.

Suddenly, Elijah's heart pumped his blood through his veins at three times the speed and his chest rose and fell rapidly. No, it couldn't be. Not her, not ...

"I only hear one heartbeat."

Klaus' pushed the pent up air out of his lungs and looked at his brother with wide eyes. He added up one and one. His daughter was crying and alive on the other side of the door, but Y/N’s blood led the brothers straight to the bathroom. That meant ... He closed his eyes, devotedly.

"Freya !" Elijah for the first time cried. He was desperate. He had no way to get to her as long as the barrier spell was working. He wasn’t be able to help her. "Freya !"

"I'm here, I'm here," the blonde hurried into the room.

"I ... I can't hear her heartbeat. She spoke a barrier spell. I have to get to her. "

Freya gave her brother a brief look with wide eyes, but then nodded, carefully pushing him to the side and raising her hands to the door, closing her eyes.

Elijah nervously watched his sister's lips moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. His thoughts only revolved around Y/N and this panicked fear of having lost her now. He couldn't think clearly anymore, he could ...

,,Broken."

As soon as Freya had taken a step back, Elijah shot forward, but the door was still locked. He took a few steps back and then threw his entire body weight against the door, whereupon the lock gave way and he stumbled into the room, followed by Niklaus.

When he saw her, he held his breath. Blood kept flowing from the bite on her neck. One of her hands, covered in blood, lay on the floor beside her. She had slid to the side, lay motionless in the corner, but one of her arms were wrapped tightly around little Hope, as if she still wanted to protect her by all means.

Her jaw was swollen and her lip had split open. Her skin was pale and her eyes closed. She didn't move.

I pull you in to feel your heartbeat Can you hear me screaming „Please don‘t leave me“ ?

,,No no no no."

Elijah dropped to his knees, while Klaus picked up his daughter and soothingly stroked her head. Meanwhile, Elijah pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, bit his wrist without another thought. His blood quickly flowed out of the wound and ran down his wrist, dripping onto the cold tiled floor.

He carefully lifted a hand and placed it on the back of her head, pressing his wrist against her pale, full lips.

"Please," he pleaded softly and briefly closed his eyes. He could feel his blood running down her throat, but she didn't swallow. "Please don't leave me."

Quietly, very quietly, he heard her blood roaring in her veins and ... a single heartbeat. Elijah suddenly looked up, looked at her. He carefully brushed a y/h/c strand of hair from her face and hopefully looked at her. He watched how the wound on her lip slowly closed. The swelling of her jaw faded and the bite became smaller and smaller with every second until it completely disappeared.

Hold on I still want you Come back I still need you

,,Please..."

He kept stroking his thumb over her cheek, waiting, praying, pleading. But nothing happened. She didn't move. He could hear her quiet heartbeat, but the silence in between them was still too long.

"The vampire blood is working, why doesn't she wake up ?" Freya asked, also concerned, and Klaus gave her a quick look. He comfortingly weighed his daughter in his arms, gave her a kiss on top of her head, but he had a dark guess. He would never admit it, but his heart ached when he saw his brother on the floor, in front of him, the woman he loved. Elijah had his head down, his eyes closed.

Klaus swallowed. "It healed all the injuries it was able to heal."

Elijah slowly opened his eyes when his brother's words came to him. Niklaus was right. Vampire blood did not heal all injuries. If he was actually right, then ...

Elijah's head immediately went up. He got up, wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist and lifted her into his arms. "We have to take her to the hospital."

"I'll get the car," Klaus nodded, handed Hope to his sister, and then left the room with vampire speed.

When Elijah stepped out of the courtyard with Y/N in his arms, Klaus braked the big off-road vehicle in front of the entrance portal, got out and opened the car door to the back seat for his brother so that he could get in with Y/N. No sooner he had closed the door than his brother depressed the accelerator pedal.

A long endless highway, you‘re silent beside Drivin‘ a nightmare I can‘t escape from

Elijah held her tightly in her arms. None of this was allowed to happen. It was like an inevitable nightmare from which seemed to be no escape and Elijah wanted to wake up. He wanted it so much.

He didn’t hear Niklaus swearing loudly when a small Fiat 500 twitched down the road ahead of them, taking all time in the world, and he did not hear him honking loudly and then overtaking it - to the disapproval of the oncoming traffic.

None of this was allowed to happen yet. The time was not ripe, they hadn't had enough. She was the woman he wanted spend eternity with and now she was going to die ? That was a bad joke. It had to be. Even their enemies couldn’t have imagined anything more cruel than the terrible reality did.

Helplessly praying, the light isn't fadin' Hiding the shock and the chill in my bones

He gently stroked a strand of hair out of her face and examined her face closely. Everything had to be fine. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't.

The two brothers had been flashed at least twice on the way to the hospital, but they didn't care when Klaus braked hard in front of the emergency room and several paramedics looked up in alarm.

Niklaus got out, opened the door to the back seat and Elijah climbed out of the car with Y/N in his arms.

"We need help !" He shouted as loud as he could and some of the paramedics were already hurrying towards them.

"Everything is going to be fine," he whispered softly as he looked down at Y/N, who was still motionless in his arms. The sight made him terrified. He had never seen her so weak, so lifeless, as if the vampire had sucked all life out of her, despite the vampire blood that had healed the most serious injuries.

They took you away on a table I pace back and forth as you lay still

Meanwhile, Elijah hurried straight to the emergency room. Some nurses met him with a table.

"Put her here."

He did as he was told. He carefully her on it and swallowed hard when he saw her lying there. He was caught up in his personal nightmare from which was no escape. His hands had started to shake and he clenched them into fists to stop them. Y/N was immediately surrounded by several nurses and a doctor.

"What happened ?" the doctor asked. That was the question of all questions.

,, She has a serious disease. Dr. Pace is responsible for her,” Elijah just replied. "I found her like this."

They pull you in to feel your heartbeat Can you hear me screaming, "Please don't leave me"

"Weak pulse," another nurse noted. Elijah's eyes suddenly flew to her and the doctor also turned to the nurse. The brunette didn't notice how his brother pulled the doctor to the side. He only had eyes for the woman he loved.

"Listen," Klaus said meanwhile and his pupils dilated when he made eye contact with the doctor. ,, I want you to do everything possible to keep this woman alive. Everything. No matter how much the drugs cost, you give them to her. "

The doctor swallowed and then nodded quickly. “Of course."

Meanwhile, like in a trance, Elijah watched them push Y/N away. He wanted to go after her, but two nurses stopped him. He didn't have the strength to manipulate them, and frankly, he didn't know if it would be that good. Her life was in the hands of the doctors now.

The large double door closed and the corridor in which they had followed the doctor's staff had become quiet. It was dead silent.

He just stared at the door, tried to hear something, but the doors didn't let a single sound pass.

He weakly dropped into one of the hard chairs at the wall, just staring straight ahead at the gray hospital floor. Only now did he notice the blood on his hands - her blood. His hands trembled uncontrollably and he could only stare at them.

Almost startled, he winced when he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder.

"Elijah ?" It was rare for Klaus' voice to sound so careful and gentle, but his brother didn't respond. His mind was a mess that he was no longer able to organize.

"She is strong," the blonde continued and dropped onto the chair next to his brother. ,, Stronger than most people ... and witches. She won't give up without a fight. "

Elijah just nodded absently and Klaus swallowed hard. He felt a sting in his heart when he saw his brother sitting there; like a heap of ashes and only because the woman he loved was in mortal danger. He was almost surprised, when he heard his voice after some minutes of silence.

"I can't lose her, Niklaus," he said in a rough voice and when he looked at his brother for the first time, his eyes were red. ,, Not her. Just ... not her. "

"You won’t lose her," Klaus assured him, but he also knew that he could not promise anything.

Hold on I still want you Come back I still need you

It took full two hours. Two hours during which the entire corridor in front of the intensive care unit had been occupied by the Mikaelson clan.

After walking uneasily up and down the corridor for an hour, Rebekah had persuaded him and he finally sat down on a chair again, holding his head down and supporting it with his hands. Hayley was sitting opposite him with Freya, Klaus was leaning against the wall next to them with his arms crossed and Rebekah had leaned her head back against the wall beside Elijah and was staring at the white concrete wall.

When the door to the intensive care unit opened again that day, everyone present hopefully looked up. And this time, Elijah's heart beat a little faster when he recognized Y/N's doctor, who was now approaching them.

,,How is she ?"

Elijah immediately got up and expectantly looked at her. He still hoped that anything, any luck, could save her. His siblings had also expectantly sat up and listened intently.

Dr. Pace, however, wiped her dry lips and glanced at Elijah's siblings before turning back to him. She was looking for the right words. "She's not stable, but she's in no pain," she started slowly. ,,Mr Mikaelson, I don't want to lie to you. Her vital signs are miserable and her body is very weak. I am afraid that your fiance will not make it ... "

Elijah inhaled sharply, abruptly looked away from the doctor and swallowed hard. There was nothing he could do about the tears that drove into his eyes by themselves and made his field of vision glaze over. He ran a shaky hand over his face. He felt Rebekah's hand dull on his shoulder and heard the doctor's further words as if through cotton wool, but he no longer listened. His heart was squeezed in the most brutal way he could imagine at that moment and all he wanted was to see her. He wanted to be with her.

Until the very end.

Let me take your hand, I'll make it right I swear to love you all my life

,,How do you feel ?"

Y/N studied Elijah for a moment while he sat on the edge of her bed. She made a face at his words. ,,My head hurts."

,, You lost a lot of blood. My blood couldn't heal everything, ” he wistfully said and Y/N encouragingly and lightly squeezed his hand. Both ignored where the headache really came from.

She turned a little further in his direction. It seemed her whole body was on fire and with every movement she did she felt like every muscle was torning and every bone was breaking.

Elijah forced a smile, but Y/N could see what was really going on with him; of course she could.

She watched him for a while, watching him keep looking at her two hands and not stopping to run his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Hey," she finally said, forcing herself to smile, even if it hurt her heart. "We knew that it has to end at some point. We have already been given more time than it should have been. ”

He swallowed hard at her words. She spoke the truth, but it had never hurt as much as it did at that moment.

She saw it in his eyes, saw it in the way he looked at her and it broke her heart, over and over again, every single second. This broken man had stumbled into her life and had ended with his own centuries before at the same time. Only she had managed to make it back to something worth sacrificing.

,, I have no regrets, Elijah. Just that we didn't make more. "

At that moment it occurred to him. So much had crossed his mind that he hadn't thought about where he was with his brother in the morning before it all started.

With his hand that didn’t hold hers, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little box from the jeweler. He forced himself to smile as he opened it and looked at the silver wedding rings that were inside. The Mikaelsons emblem engraved on them. His eyes wandered between her and the rings. "There’s no pastor and this is neither a church, but .."

"It's perfect," she interrupted him, and this time the pressure in her hand was a little stronger.

He smiled at her again, and still struggled to hold back the tears that started to form in his eyes every second. But her smile, her happy smile, made him strong. It gave him strength.

One of her hands vaguely moved to the remote control of the bed, blindly groping for it until she finally found the button that would push the head of the bed a little up so she was sitting upright. Meanwhile, Elijah slid a little further onto the edge of the bed and then took her two hands.

Y/N sniffed once and then smiled again as she started to speak. "I hereby take you, Elijah Mikaelson, wholeheartedly to my husband, accepting your weaknesses and your strengths as you accept mine. I promise to trust you and support you in everything, and always make the happiness of our love and our family my number one priority. I will be your partner in wealth and poverty, in sickness and health, in success and failure and in life and death. I always promise to stand by your side, no matter what life has in store for us. I believe in you, in the person you will be and the couple we would have been together. You are my love, my life, my today and the rest of my life."

At her words, a single tear ran down his cheek. A single tear that represented what could have been and what could have become of them; but they were denied it.

He took a deep breath, looked at their hands, whereupon another tear dripped onto the white bed sheet below. He swallowed, then looked up at her, who was also struggling with tears.

"I hereby take you, Y/N Y/L/N, to my wife from this day on. I promise to love and honor you. I promise to give you my infinite love and affection, to always be sincere, to appreciate you and to share my thoughts, hopes and dreams with you. It is an honor for me to be able to spend the rest of my life with you. I hereby promise to love you. Always and forever."

But now it was Y/N, who had to sniff at his last words. Always and forever. That was what it meant to the Mikaelsons. An always and forever was of the utmost importance to her and she knew that Elijah in particular would do anything to keep that promise. She was part of his family now. She had already been a long time ago.

She gave him a sad, yet so happy smile as she reached with a trembling hand for the ring in the box, carefully removed it, and then took his hand to slide it over his finger.

Elijah did the same with her ring, took her dainty hand and pushed the ring down her ring finger.

She happily looked at the piece of jewelry on her finger. This may be the last minutes of her life, but it were also the most beautiful. Nothing could have been nicer for her.

Now, the tears ran down her cheeks and she looked at Elijah, looked deep into his eyes, as he did. In a shaky voice she said: "You may kiss the bride."

Elijah carefully leaned forward, careful not to pull any of the many hoses or cables while she clumsily raised a hand and finally put it on his neck as his lips carefully touched hers.

It almost seemed as if he was afraid that she would break if he touched her and yet, for Y/N, it was the most beautiful kiss out of all. She could feel the love he put in it, the pain, and the salty taste of tears on her tongue. But she didn't care; it had always been what she longed for in life, he had always been the missing piece of the puzzle in her life that she didn't even know she needed. At that moment she had lost everything and had had everything at the same time.

He leaned his forehead against hers, one of his hands on the back of her head supported her a little. She closed his eyes like he did, could feel his hot breath on her face and the tears he was desperately trying to hold back.

,,I love you so much."

A smile formed on her lips and she tried desperately not to scream and break into tears.

,, I love you too, Elijah. Always and forever."

At those words, he kissed her again and her heart contracted painfully. It had long been clear to her that this would be her last moments and with every passing second the pain grew.

,,Do you lie down with me ?"

There was so much hope and despair in her voice that Elijah felt like someone was zealously tearing his heart out of his chest.

The tears on his cheeks were dry, he had made an effort that no more would flee from the corners of his eyes, yet his eyes had a steady, moist shine.

He cleared his throat, swallowed the lump in his throat. He had taken off his jacket some time ago, the tie was right next to it over the back of the chair. He had rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt and opened the first two buttons of it.

Elijah slowly nodded when Y/N gave him a little space and slid aside so that he could lie down with her.

He carefully lifted the tube of the infusion, lay down next to her and immediately felt her seal up to him and put her head and left hand on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

He closed his eyes for a moment after putting his arms around her and pulling her closer. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and rested his chin on top of her head. He looked at the heart monitor which recorded her steady and now slowing heartbeat, with mixed feelings.

He carefully grabbed one of her ice-cold hands, gripped it tightly with his, and closed his eyes just like she did.

Hold on, I still need you

Y / n woke up to the sound of the rushing waves and the screeching of a few seagulls. She blinked in confusion, turning to her side.

When she opened her eyes, she was blinded for a moment by some sun ray, but found out that she was lying in a very comfortable bed. Slowly, she recognized the outline of the open bedroom and looked through the opened wooden sliding door to the deserted, untouched beach.

She raised her eyebrows in confusion and looked beside her, but the space was empty. She glanced down at herself, found out that she was wearing one of Elijah's dress shirts and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Now, she could hear the soft piano music, which was very quietly carried to her through the open door.

She barefooted tapped over the wooden floor, gazing at the sea and the waves outside and only following the music.

She smiled when she saw him, stroked the y/h/c hair on one side and tapped to him. She finally wrapped her arms around him from behind and watched his fingers continue to dance elegantly over the black and white piano keys. She kissed his neck and shoulder and briefly closed her eyes until the music stopped. But she knew what this was. And she knew this little, cute hut on the island off Brazil too well.

"You proposed to me here," she stated and slightly smiled at the memory.

"The best weekend of my life."

"And that only happened because we fled from your brother," Y/N laughed quietly, remembering how Klaus had barely given them privacy in the New Orleans estate.

"His ego wasn’t too hurt," Elijah replied, pulling Y/N onto his lap so that she leaned back against the piano and could wrap her feet around his waist. She did the same with her arms and his neck. She closely watched the man in her arms and gently ran her index finger down his temple to his jawline.

"I loved it here," she admitted. ,, No one had ever done that for me before. And that just made me love you more. "

Elijah smiled slightly and yet Y/N noticed the dark shadow in his eyes that he was trying to hide from her. But he had never been able to completely hide everything from her.

I don't wanna let go I know I'm not that strong

For a moment, he just closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of her neck. "I can't do this without you."

Y/N forced a smile and stroked her fingers soothingly through his hair as she felt him take a deep breath. ,, Yes, you will. I know you, Elijah. When you are about to lose your footing, think about how much I love you, whatever you do. "

"Please ... stay."

Y/N devotedly closed her eyes and pressed her lips together in a thin line. She tilted her head back, but couldn't stop the tears. "I can't," she said and her heart contracted painfully at the thought.

Elijah listened to her voice and the sound of the waves. A seagull was screaming a little away from their little hut.

“I should have found a way. It's my fault."

"Hey," Y/N immediately said in a firm voice and leaned back a little to look him straight in the eyes as she grabbed his face with both hands. ,, It's not your fault, Elijah. If you dare to think that, I'm gonna haunt you as a ghost and kick your ass. It's not your fault. Vampire blood doesn’t cure all diseases. "

But he shook his head slowly, trying to blink the tears away. "There has to be another way."

"It doesn't exist," she denied, forcing an encouraging smile. “Stop doing that. You did everything you could do, okay ? When I got the diagnosis ... it was already over for me - until I met you again. Thanks to you, I have weighed my entire life within a few years. You made it worth living and if it should be over now, then it’s okay. "

She gently stroked an escaped tear from his face and gave him another of her smiles before she finally got up and reached a hand out to him. The piano started to play the melody Elijah played before when she pulled him to his feet.

"Am I gonna get my wedding dance ?" She asked with a happy smile on her lips as she led Elijah a little into the room. He also smiled as he took her hand, pulling her by his waist and pressing her against him. She carefully laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes as they slowly began to move to the delicate piano music. Suddenly, she had become incredibly tired and Elijah had been ignoring the slowing, dull beeping that came from far far away and that only he could hear.

He gave her a gentle kiss on her hairline and led her over the old wooden floor.

I just wanna hear you Saying baby, let's go home Yeah, I just wanna take you home

Slowly, very slowly and lazily, she finally raised her head again and looked at him with tired eyes. Still, she smiled.

,,I love you."

The beeping grew louder. And it slowed down.

Elijah closed her eyes and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He gently stroked a strand of hair behind her ear and examined her face closely. Y/N had always loved it when he did that, but now there was a whole different reason: he was afraid to forget her.

He pressed his forehead against hers, closed his eyes. ,,I love you, too."

Y/N smiled happily. ,,Always and forever."

She pulled him down for a last kiss, felt his soft lips against hers, and smiled into it. She could taste the salt of her tears and pressed Elijah tightly against her. She didn't want to go, but she had no choice.

A shrill, continuous beep tore the moment and Elijah's heart at the same time when he realized what it meant. The scenery in the open hut on the beautiful island was gone, faded like fog in the morning sun.

No, no, no, he desperately thought and his eyes widened, the tears now unstoppable. An incredible anger over his inability came over him, but the grief was greater and he didn’t want to believe it.

His breath was faltering and frantic, he almost didn't dare to do it when he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her.

The tears ran down his cheeks. Her eyes were closed, a satisfied, little smile was on her lips and one could almost think she was sleeping. And in a way she did; she had fallen asleep peacefully and happily.

"No," he whispered as one of his tears dripped onto her shoulder, making the fabric darker there. He carefully raised a trembling hand and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She didn't move.

The other Mikaelsons had also gathered in front of the window to the hospital room. They too had noticed what had happened. They all had tears in their eyes. Tears to see therr brother there and tears because a part of her family had left them.

"No ...", he sobbed and put a hand on her cheek, but it was clear that she would no longer feel it; she wouldn't feel anything anymore.

And then he broke. He could feel his heart shattering and leaping in a thousand pieces, his tears falling down his cheeks in the event of falls, and he carefully lifted her up and buried his face in her chest. He didn't want to let her go, he couldn't let her go. She was gone and something in him refused to accept it.

He sobbed and cried desperately, still smelling the light hint of her perfume as he buried his face deeper in her chest.

She was gone and he was alone now. He was completely alone. He had no one left.

Hold on, I still want you Come back, I still need you

#doms1kchallenge #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #theoriginals #to #angst #fluff #death #klaus mikaelson #freya mikaelson #challengesubmission

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kyouxa · 5 years ago

Text

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Carla Tsukinami (Story 12)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! I’m an amateur translator, but I hope you do enjoy it anyway!♡

Place: Violet mansion — dungeon

Carla: For the time being, the two of you will rest in the dungeon.

If you show an obedient attitude, I won’t need to take generous measures in the future.

Ruki: Hmph... are you saying that you want to tame us? That’s useless.

Shin: We’re not going to bow down for you. Not even for this power.

Carla: ...Speaking of that topic

Hurry up, Subaru. Explain the current situation to Laito.

Subaru: ...Yes.

Yui: Carla-san...

Carla: What is it?

Yui: Is this, really okay? Even if Shin-kun will be trapped in the dungeon...

They both are dangerously injured, with blood all over the floor—

Carla: They need to stay in this dungeon, otherwise Shin who never loses, would attack us.

If that’s the case, we also need to fight them... I highly want to avoid this.

In addiction, now that they only have false memories in their head, past hospitality would just be another suspicious cause.

Yui: (That right... For Shin-kun, Carla-san is nothing more than just an enemy)

(Just another enemy who is a competitor for the throne of the king...)

(This situation, it might even cause Laito-kun to get suspicious of us, but... I can’t help it)

Shin: ...Brother, are you okay?

Ruki: Yes.

Shin: Damn... ngh, if the wounds would recover more quickly, we’d definitely get out here.

Ruki: Don't be impatient. Just don’t let your guard down.

Shin: Understood... brother.

Carla: ...

Yui: (Carla-san, he’s silently watching Shin-kun. I never saw him with such an expression on his face... that’s the first time—)

(He looks like, he’s hiding a lot of feelings)

Place: Violet mansion — living room

Kou: No way, to catch Ruki and Shin just like that, as expected from our leader Carla-kun!

Azusa: Y-Yes...

Laito: Recently, were there any new signs of you becoming the king?

Because, I was told that you managed to win by your own powers, is that right?

Yui: (Everyone is talking happily about the successful capture of Ruki-kun)

(The battle for the king, for now this is everyone’s biggest priority...)

Carla: You’re noisy. I still couldn’t become the king yet.

The Scarlet family, as well as the remnants of the Orange mansion are free. Don’t act so delighted already.

Kou: Suure. But, you did an amazing job. So what is our Carla-kun planing for the next time?

Once you became the king, we’ll make sure to throw a huge party for you!

Carla: Party... ?

Laito: A present that Carla would be happy with, I don’t think that smth like that exists.

Subaru-kun, do you have any ideas?

Subaru: What? Why are you asking me about that?

Kou: In my opinion, we should just have a good meal together!

Azusa: That’s just, because Kou-kun always wants to eat... right?

Carla: ...You all, why are you all so excited... ?

Laito: That’s because, Carla is finally getting closer to become the king. Isn’t that right?

Kou: That’s why we’re celebrating our big brother, you’re not going to get away from it.

Carla: Big... brother.

...That’s right. For all of you, I’m your big brother, hm...

Yui: Carla-san...

Carla: We’ll plan something. I’ll put my thoughts on this topic later.

First of all I’ll return to my room. This will be left to you, Subaru.

Subaru: What? Ngh, hey! ... What’s wrong with this guy.

Yui: (Carla-san, he looked uncomfortable with the situation...)

Subaru-kun, I’ll go after Carla-san.

Subaru: Yes... that might be better. We’ll do whatever we can, now go and follow him.

Yui: Yes, thank you!

*Yui leaves*

Place: Violet mansion — Carla’s bedroom

Yui: Carla-san, may I enter?

Carla: ... Sure.

Yui: Excuse me.

(Carla-san, after all he doesn’t seem alright...)

Carla: What about Subaru-kun?

Yui: Oh, they’re all still discussing things about the Party. Everyone seems to be excited about it.

Carla: I see...

There was something about that, which made my mind go blurry.

Yui: Eh?

Carla: The eldest brother, me, becomes the king with Eve by his side. The rest just follows them...

This is what they assume because of their memories.

But, I never thought that Laito would be so happy about it.

Yui: For Laito-kun and everyone else, it is you, who is their big brother.

Carla: Yes, that’s right. They are pleased by my actions because of their memories.

Although this is a fake relationship, their thoughts of me... being their real brother.

Being real brothers, it might just look like that from the outside.

Yui: Nn...

(Shin-kun...)

Carla: ...What’s with that expression? Did you thought about Shin just now?

Yui: Shin-kun... ?

Choices

1) — It seemed hard (white) ♡ ♡ ♡

2) — It seemed good (black)

— It seemed hard ♡

Yui: I know it’s hard. I just don’t know what we should do about him...

Meaningless fightings, everyone’s memory loss... I don’t think Shin-kun is happy either.

Carla: That’s right. We will make sure to give him his memories back.

Yui: Exactly, the reason why he adores Ruki-kun, is just because of his memory loss.

— It seemed good

Yui: It looked fine to me. It looked like he’s doing well with Ruki-kun on his side.

Carla: I see...

end Choices

Carla: Certainly, Shin is blended with a false brother on his side.

The fact that he wasn’t treated badly in their mansion, reliefs me a bit.

Even if it may be because their memories have been altered, I might have to thank both of those vampires.

Yui: I agree...

("Brothers"... Shin-kun, he still believes that Ruki-kun is his elder brother)

(But, this whole situation seems to be pretty complicated for Carla-san...)

Tell me, are you sad about it?

Carla: ...Feeling sad. Yes, I wonder if that’s true.

However, I can’t deny that I’m enduring a painful feeling.

Yui: Carla-san...

Carla: ...No, this topic is just bothering someone like you. Forget it.

Yui: It’s not bothering me at all...

You’re feeling like this, because Shin-kun is the most important person to you.

Carla: I see. It may be as you said.

Shin... and you, are pretty special for my entire existence.

If one of you went missing, it’s only natural to feel like this.

Yui: As long as he remembers, everything will stay the same.

Carla: That’s right. We will regain Shin’s memories and—

Once this is done, we’re escaping from this space.

Yui: ....Ngh

(... If we are going to the church, we will surely find a way out of this strange space)

(But, once we are out, the time will continue to flow in it’s usual form)

(...Carla-san’s disease will start to progress)

Carla: What’s wrong, Yui? Your expression suddenly changed.

Yui: Nn, uhm...it’s nothing.

I may have been acting awkward, due various reasons recently.

Carla: Are you, hiding a secret from me?

Yui: I... ngh

Carla: You are the woman I choose for myself. My future bride.

There is no need for you to hide anything from me. Worries, suffering, weaken.

Trusting each other on this, for me this is necessary for a healthy relationship.

Yui: Carla-san...

(Seems like Carla-san began to notice my strange behavior. I’ve been probably acting weird for awhile now...)

(But, I can’t say it. I’m way too scared of letting those words escape from my mouth...)

(I don’t want to remind Carla-san neither myself about his disease—)

Carla: Apparently, it looks like you’re not going to say anything.

Yui: I-It’s different! It’s not like I want to keep any secrets from Carla-san’s.

However... I still don’t know myself, how I should deal with this...

Carla: I see. I've tried to get the answer to my questions in a hurry.

This way. You’ll lay in my arms.

Yui: Carla-san... ?

*Carla comes closer*

Carla: For now, you decided to not talk about your secret, I’ll fully respect your opinion on that.

But, I hope you know that is not what I actually want.

Yui: Yes... I’m sorry.

Carla: There’s no need to apologize. Your sentiment, I will wash away all the worries in your mind.

Offer me your blood. In exchange, I will give you the feeling of the finest pleasures.

Yui: My blood...

(He’s not asking because he’s thirsty. Neither he asks because he wants my blood)

(It’s just, because he is caring about me... )

After all... Carla-san is still the kindest person I know.

Carla: Don’t preach me like this. This is involved in dignity as a king. With mercy alone, the kings life wouldn’t work.

And do you know what that means? That means I am the only man suited for you.

Yui: Eh...

(His eyes, their expression suddenly changed... it’s like he’s aiming for his pray, an eye that dominates everything—)

Carla: Has the scent of your blood increased? As I thought, you are the type that prefers rough actions.

Yui: Eh, s-such kind of things...

Carla: You don’t need to hide your desire from me. As it is right now, you should accept it.

I’ll make sure, to give you enough and all kinds of — pleasures.

...Ahh...Nn...Nn...

Yui: Wait... ! ...Agh...Nn

Carla: ...Ahh, your blood is definitely increasing and becoming thicker.

Look at me. Listen to your body, tell me who your supreme ruler is.

Yui: Y-Yes, it’s you, Carla-san...

Carla: That’s right. Your companion is nobody else but me. There’s nothing to grieve anymore.

However, just drown in the feeling that you are given, the pleasure you waited for — Nn... Nn...

Yui: Ahh... Nn...Ngh...

(My blood is been sucked like this again... Like this, I can’t focus on anything and it makes my mind go dizzy...)

(It feels like my hesitation, anxiety and everything else is sucked away with my blood...)

(Only for now, even if it’s spoiled... I... want it...)

Carla-san... please don’t... hesitate to take more.

Carla: ...As you wish... Ahh... Nn...

Yui: A-Ah... Ahh... !

(My head becomes selfish. Without thinking, I just wanted him to take more)

(I don’t worry about what happened earlier anymore)

Place: Outside — wide area

Ayato: ...Hey, are you planing to hide there forever? Move on, come out already!

??? : Oops, seems like I got discovered.

Laito: I thought I was doing well in hiding myself, it’s a surprise that you found me.

Kanato: You got a pretty big mouth. Hiding in the bushes while thinking nobody sees you. Do you seriously think I’m stupid or something?

Laito: That’s wrong. I was just waiting for the perfect moment to talk to you two.

Ayato: There’s no need to talk to you. You’d probably just start picking up a fight or sum. Try me then!

Laito: Oh dear, hold on. I assume the cause of your frustration is the reason that you don’t know where Ruki is, right?

Ayato: Hah? Why do you know that? That’s right, he was included with that intelligent dude.

Kanato: Shin too. Even though we were hungry and went home, the mansion was an empty shell.

I can't forgive him for not having any sweets in the mansion. Ahh, I'm sure he is miserable laughing about his actions.

I’m sure it must be like this. Ruki and Shin won’t be forgiven anymore.

Laito: ...They really are like Carla said, selfish guys who just care about themselves.

Kanato: Did you say anything?

Laito: It’s nothing, nevermind. More than that, Ruki and the other guy—

As I know, they were attacked and tattered by all four members of Scarlet.

Ayato: What? Seriously?

Laito: That • is • why, the two of you should hurry up and beat up Scarlet, before you try to beat up me.

I’m not the type of person who’d attack the enemy right away, but I can’t hold you two back, right?

Kanato: It is certainly interesting. Scarlet... If we would attack them right away, Reiji would make us a pretty hard time.

But, I won’t forgive them easily... I WILL NEVER FORGIVE THEM... !

Ayato: Heh, Ruki got defeat, that’s right. But, if the great me would beat up Reiji, Ruki needed to—

He needed to accept Ayato-sama as the strongest of the family! Hey, Kanato!

Kanato: I understood it. Let's head to the Scarlet mansion right away.

*Kanato and Ayato leave*

Laito: ...Haah. They really left without saying thanks or farewell. They are really selfish.

But, now the other family can crush those disturbers apart.

In order for Carla to become the new king, I’m helping as much as I can possibly do.

Well, I’m not sure if he would be happy enough with this report as his present.

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inmyth0oughts · 5 years ago

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thinking about you

pairing: Namjoon x Y/N

genre: fluff with a bit of heartache

---

Text message from Kim Namjoon - 3rd of July:

Hey, I know it’s been awhile. How are you doing? Have you finished uni successfully? Did your dad get that raise? Your mom’s bakery, is it still doing great? I can’t stop wondering if you are finally happy... I hope you are.

Text message from Kim Namjoon - 4th of July:

I wish it wouldn’t have come to this. I just wish I could turn back time. I should have fought for you, for us.

Text message from Kim Namjoon - 16th of July:

Jin hyung told me that you currently are in Italy. Have fun!

Text message from Kim Namjoon - 21st of July:

You even ignore the boys now. I’m worried.

Text message from Kim Namjoon - 27th of July:

I’ll stop bothering you from now on, I’m sorry.

Text message from Kim Namjoon - 8th of August:

Please, just one message. At least let me know you are alright.

~~~

Reading all these messages you sighed. You felt pity for ignoring him, sadness for losing him and hatred towards yourself because you still are not over him. You wanted to text him back so badly but you just couldn’t. How are you supposed to get over someone while exchanging messages?

Your break up was tragic, and to contrary beliefs this wasn’t about his career at all. It was about about both of your parents who hate each others guts. Supposedly your dad and his dad were rivals at work, always competing for the best projects. When your parents found out that you are dating non other than Kim Namjoon hell broke loose. They gave you the silent treatment for weeks, neither did Namjoon’s parents talk to him. His parents treated you like a disease and your parents didn’t acknowledge him at all. The pressure from both sides forcing you both to break up. You know what they say: blood is thicker than water.

~~~

Text message from Kim Namjoon - 12th of September:

It’s my birthday and all I wish for is a simple message from you.

You were surprised that he texted you. Of course you didn’t forget about his birthday and you tried to get a hold of yourself, you already felt the urge to wish him a happy birthday.

Text message to Kim Namjoon - 12th of September:

Happy birthday, Joonie. Take good care of yourself.

That Namjoon was surprised was an understatement. He was overjoyed by a simple message. These eight words written by the one person he loved the most made his day. During the whole rehearsal and concert he couldn’t get that stupid smile off his face, and to be honest he didn’t want to. Everyone should know how happy he is. “I think you should kidnap and marry her”, Namjoon questionably looked at Jin. “Y/N”, Jin stated. “Stop joking around, hyung”. “Joon-ah, you are still madly in love with her and if she didn’t feel the same, she wouldn’t have wished you a happy birthday in the first place. The kidnap thing was a joke. But have you ever really made an effort to woo her parents? My parents didn’t like my brother’s wife at all in the beginning, now they adore her. What I’m trying to say is that you both never really fought. Maybe you should. Sulking around won’t solve anything”.

~~~

“Dad, can you open the door? I’m still washing the dishes”, you shouted. “On my way, darling”. There was a moment of silence, when her dad literally yelled: “What are you doing here?”. “I’m here to talk”, the voice seemed familiar... too familiar. Suddenly realising it was Namjoon’s voice, you ran towards the door. Both of your eyes met, full of longing. Your heart beat fast, your face heated up. “N-Namjoon? What are you doing here?”, how can he just show up in front of your dad?

“I’m here to talk. I shouldn’t have let you go. I want to talk to your parents”, he then turned towards your angry dad, “Please, let us talk this through. I really want Y/N to be part of my life”. Without hearing another word your dad shut the door closed. “You won’t go near this boy, understood?”, all you could do was nod.

In your room you immediately grabbed your phone. I felt like crying because you missed him a lot, your situation sucked and you were flattered that he showed up. Seeing him made you realise you are not even 1% over him.

Text message to Kim Namjoon:

Do you want to die in the hands of my dad? Are you crazy?

Text message from Kim Namjoon:

(1) Crazy in love.

(2) Don’t worry, everything will work out.

(3) You’ll be mine again soon, just leave it up to me.

His words made you feel jittery and feeling cheeky you just replied with an Okay. This one word was more than enough to motivate him even more.

~~~

Even though Namjoon was busy with rehearsals for their American tour in about a month, he still visited twice a day. In the early morning before and during dinner after practice. He usually brought food along that goes with breakfast or dinner. Your dad never let him in, your mom never said anything. Your heart aches for Namjoon, you felt sorry for his efforts. Namjoon didn’t complain, it became a routine for him and he was grateful that he could take a glimpse of your beautiful face.

Strangely enough, Namjoon didn’t show up on one day and you couldn’t help but worry. You were sitting in the living room with your parents and your eyes always wandered to the clock on the wall. “Wasn’t he supposed to be here an hour ago?”, your dad questioned. Surprised by his question you just nodded. “It’s raining heavily, my dear. Maybe try calling him”, your mom took you even more off guard. Since when did they care about his well being? But you did as told. Fidgeting nervously he didn’t pick up the phone. You tried calling him, every time his answer phone on the other line.

After two long hours the door bell rang, you opened the door revealing a soaked Namjoon. He was shuddering. “What happened to you? I was so worried?”, you exclaimed hugging him tightly, not loosing his chance he hugged you back. “Practice took me longer and my car broke down, my battery died and I ran all the way because I couldn’t find a taxi”, he muttered. You really wanted to invite him in but you didn’t want your parents to throw a fit. You spun around when you heard someone coughing. “Come in, have some tea. You look like you’ll catch a cold”, your mom smiled gently.

In the living room your dad was no where to be seen. “Sit down, I’ll bring you a blanket”, you were about to walk away when Namjoon grabbed your wrist. “Please, stay. It’s awkward without you”. After a few minutes your dad came back in, handing Namjoon some of his clothes: “Go to the bathroom and change. Can’t have an idol becoming ill under my roof”. “Thank you so much, sir”.

“Thanks, dad”, you whispered and he just gave you a short nod. A few minutes later you were all sitting in the living room sipping on tea. “Is it inappropriate to ask for your blessings now?”, Namjoon tried to sound confident but the nervousness was evident. “Your family hates us, you know that, right? They’ll only treat Y/N like dirt. That’s why I am against this relationship to begin with. It’s not about you, you seem like a decent human. You actually proved that to us”, your dad explained. “I talked to my parents. I really did. They want me to be happy and said if she is the cause for my happiness it’s fine with them. Sir, please, talk to them. I’ll make your daughter the most happiest human on this world. Give me this chance”, Namjoon begged. Your dad sighed, looking at you: “You want this?”. Enthusiastically you said: “Yes”.

“Fine, take care of her”, then he stood up and left. “I’ll give you both some privacy. I’m genuinely happy for the both of you”, she smiled.

“We did it”, Namjoon said in disbelief. “You did it, thanks for fighting for this love”, you grinned. Namjoon sat down next to you holding your hands in his: “So I can call you my girlfriend again?”. “Definitely”. And without a warning he kissed you on your lips. Your heart raced, you blushed but that didn’t stop you from deepening the kiss. He broke the kiss off: “I missed this so much. I love you, Y/N. From now on I’ll never let you go”.

End.

#bts #bts namjoon #bts rm #RM #namjoon #kim namjoon #BTS jin #kim seokjin #jin #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts army #army #BTS jimin #BTS jungkook #bts jhope #bts suga #BTS v

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auntiejojo801-blog · 6 years ago

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The pause between my breaths

One of the most important parts of meditation is breathing -- controlled, slow, and even breathing. It's imperative to achieve this so the body can relax and stop focusing on any distractions, and healing and peace can happen.

When I woke at 4:30 AM last Wednesday I knew something was very wrong. My head was pounding, worse than I have ever felt in my life. I sat up and clutched my head, and stumbled to my bathroom. I got there and returned to my bed and took the ibuprofen and cough medicine I had been prescribed 2 days before. I lay back down in bed wheezing and coughing from just that minor activity and I couldn't breathe. I knew I needed to call my doctor but couldn't because I couldn't speak.

My coughing and wheezing roused Tyson who jumped up and wanted to help me. I knew if I didn't calm down, no oxygen would make its way into my lungs. I asked for a cool wash cloth and for him to just sit with me. After 5 minutes, I felt like I could breathe enough and I called my oncologist.

On the previous Monday, my oncologist gave me 2 days for my pneumonia to improve before doing more testing, and this was now the 2nd day...I clearly was not improved.

I told him my symptoms as best as I could and I was directed to go to the hospital if Tyson could drive me and I thought I could make it there without an ambulance. Tyson drove me. Before I got off the phone with my oncologist he let me know that he was going to run a CT of my chest when I got there, but he wanted to prepare me for what he thought the results would be.

My oncologist was brutally honest with me that he didn't believe he would find pneumonia, but instead that my cancer had returned and had now spread to my lungs. He wanted me to be prepared ahead of time, instead of surprised when the results came back.

My oncologist has a long history of experience and has seen many things, and I know through my own research that when TNBC comes back it goes to two places first -- the brain or the lungs. Since my brain MRI was negative the previous week I knew it was not there. I had only a chest xray the week prior and I know it is not the best test to show metastasis, rather it shows shadows which can be caused by many things.

I began crying as Tyson helped me get dressed, and I cried quietly the whole way to the hospital, as the nurses helped me get changed and settled, and as I lay there waiting for the results of the CT.

As hard as it was to acknowledge that I had breast cancer, hearing that it had likely returned was worse. I felt like I had left my house for the very last time, I would not get to tell people what they mean to me, would not get to recover and return to my life as I had been pushing toward, and these would be my last days with Tyson and my girls. The sadness was overwhelming.

My breathing was erratic, I was light headed, my heartbeat was incredibly fast, my blood pressure was elevated and my oxygen was dropping. I have enough medical knowledge to know implications of things. And as I watched the vitals monitor in the emergency department that I was hooked up to, I knew there were a lot of concerns. My oxygen level dropped into the 80's and I couldn't get a deep breath. The nurse stayed in the room and monitored me closely.

There is a point in the act of breathing in and breathing out where the body changes over from inhaling to exhaling. There's a pause in between each, brief as it may be, but it is a natural pause in the body to do what's needed for air exchange. I had no pause between my inhales nor my exhales. It was just in, out, in, out similar to hyperventilating. The air that was going in wasn't doing much. I was very tired, and dozed off several times however as soon as that would happen, my oxygen levels would fall and the alarms on the monitors would go off. I was startled every time which brought my oxygen levels back over 90%. My heart rate was in the 120's which is double what mine normally is.

Emily arrived at the emergency department and sat with Tyson and I in my room.

The staff took a chest xray when I first arrived and the results weren't good, there were more findings when comparing to the week prior, it was now in both lungs and it was larger. I laid there crying and praying for God to help me and to help my family.

After an hour, the Emergency Dept MD came in with the results of the CT. He gave Tyson, Emily, and I a pointed look, then sat down and pulled the CT results up on the computer. He explained that there were findings in both lungs, but after extensive review by the radiologists they favored an inflammatory/infectious process and not a metastasis.

Tyson asked how they knew for sure, and he explained that in order for the cancer to go from my breast to my lungs it had to travel through my lymph system, and since my lymph nodes on the CT scan were all normal, the cancer couldn't have just "jumped".

More tears from all three of us, a smile from the doctor but still a look of concern on his face he let me know I would be admitted and seen by many doctors to figure this out and get control of it because it was definitely not under control and it was affecting me quite badly.

Over the next 2 days I saw infectious disease MD's, pulmonary MD's, cardiologists, my oncologist and his team, my radiation oncologist, respiratory therapists, and other specialized medical technicians, all working to get a handle on what was truly happening to me.

In the end, it was decided that I had atypical aspiration pneumonia in both lungs from bacteria that was in my mouth from my abscessed tooth, and radiation pneumonitis which is swelling caused by the radiation treatment on my left side. Lots of medicine accompanied my 2 days in the hospital and my breathing had improved by Friday and the medical team all agreed that I could be allowed home with just oral antibiotics.

The one part that did not resolve completely was my headache, which kept me from sleeping and truly resting. The infectious disease doctor felt it was a tension headache. My oncologist let me know he was still going to think on possible causes because the MRI of my brain, CT of my sinuses, xray of my jaw, and lab tests didn't lean toward a sinus infection as the cause.

One thing he said resonated with me though. "Joanne," he said, "you went into this full force, nothing was going to stop you from having any chemotherapy, nothing was going to delay your treatment, or surgery, you went to every radiation appointment and had them, never complained or got down. What you have gone through is a horrific experience, and you haven't allowed yourself the time or space to accept that and work through it. For people that react the way you have, PTSD happens very frequently. It will all come crashing down on you. And at some point we will need to treat you for that."

I do realize that this past year I have been dealt some unbelievable shit in my life, and I need to be ready to be open about that and go over my true feelings about it. I truly believe I reacted in the only way I knew how, and that was to protect myself and survive. And I did that. And now I need to give myself the therapy my body and mind needs to come to terms with the depth of things that have happened to me, and accept what my future will be.

I am still sad, and my lungs are recovering, each day brings easier breathing but not yet any stamina to walk around much. My road to recovery is going to be slow, but I believe God has bigger plans for me and I'll make it through, not how I envision, but how He does.

Life can be very sad and it can throw curve balls, but life is worth it. I just didn't realize how much and why it was worth it before now. It doesn't matter what I look like or what I can do, what matters is that I am here. It's not a competitive event with challenges to beat, but instead, it's a gift.

Every single breath and pause in between is a gift.

#tnbc #breastcancer #kickingcanceroutofme #radiation

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militant-holy-knight · 6 years ago

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Benioff and Weiss Were Always Hacks: You Only Noticed Now

Or why you should be worried for the future Star Wars movies made by them

(Disclaimer: this blogpost contains spoilers for Game of Thrones)

With only two episodes left for the series to reach it’s conclusion and the announcement for future Star Wars movies in the horizon made by David Benioff and D.B. Weiss (henceforth referred to as D&D for simplicity sake), not many fans seem to be excited about it as they should due to the creative choices taken in regards to the final season of Game of Thrones. Speaking as a GoT fan, I used to enjoy the show a lot and I believe it reached it’s peak on Season 4 and started to go went downhill on Season 5. If D&D were in charge from the beginning what happened?

D&D’s job was always to adapt the book series by George R. R. Martin, which means any merit to the show’s writing can be attributed largely to Martin while D&D were only fit for it to make it work into a tv show - which is still laudable in it’s own right because there are things in the books that still wouldn’t translate too well into the show. In any case, they did their job well from Season 1 to Season 4 which adapted the first trilogy in the series. Even though there are still five books in total released at the time, Season 5 is where they started to run out of material to adapt because some storylines didn’t find their proper conclusion and they needed to come up with their own unique deviations.

Season 5 is considered by many fans to be the low point in the series because of it’s extremely low pacing and controversial liberties taken: the biggest ones have to be the Dorne subplot because that meant axing popular book character Arianne Martell, Stannis Baratheon turning irredeemable evil and paying with his life and Sansa’s marriage to Ramsay Snow leading to her rape, which is still a very hot button among the fandom to this day (and understandably so). Season 5 did have some moments like Hardhome which showed the strength of the true villain of the series, the Night King, the leader of the White Walker invasion who brings winter with him. He is the Thanos-like menace who is teased since the very start of the show with the very first scene opening with a White Walker killing some Night Watch’s rangers and warning us about the danger he represents.

Season 6 fixed some of these problems by giving a more dynamic pacing and build it up with the Battle of the Bastards as the climatic encounter instead of something completely anti-climatic like Season 5′s finale where Stannis Baratheon’s forces were liquidated by the Boltons offscreen. But still, it was an entire season wasted to fix another one’s problems and it still had some individual problems.

And then Season 7 came along and it all went to waste. I wouldn’t say it was as bad as Season 5 because at least shit happened and it wasn’t boring, but it was still full of groan-worthy moments like trying to force some romance between Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen which doesn’t work because they have no chemistry and they are related by blood, curing Jorah Mormont who has been infected with a dangerous disease that will turn him into a snow zombie by simply cutting out the infected area, and of course lest we forget the Wight Hunt in Episode 6 “Beyond the Wall” which broke all suspension of disbelief. Lemme sum it up for you what happens in that episode so you can get the idea and let me put up a map so you can get it from reference.

The heroes come up with the idea to capture an Wight and bring it South to convince Cersei to from a truce.

The travel by boat to the Wall from their base on Dragonstone.

After reaching the Wall, they walk into the land beyond it to find a wight.

They find one and send one of their members back to ask reinforcements having to sprint a indeterminate distance.

The team gets surrounded by the Night King’s army in a frozen lake for a indeterminate amount of time.

The allies at the Wall send a raven back to Dragonstone requesting help.

Daenerys summons her dragons to fly to the land beyond the Wall to rescue the heroes.

They are fighting to the last against the advancing horde of the Night King just before Daenerys arrives in a triumphant moment to save them.

And all of this happens like... Within a hour apparently. Several days should have taken place between this exchange but time moves at the speed of the plot, but D&D seem to be relying on emotional torque to get viewers to ignore all internal logic and be mindblown by the crowning moments of awesome. And this is the core issue with their writing.

D&D write their scenes the same way they film sex scenes apparently, hoping that the emotional moments will make the audience be carried over. Thing is... I realized this after thinking up about many moments in the past. Hardhome was one such example in Season 5 to make up for its abhorrent dullness and even Season 6 wasn’t safe from this. For example, remember how Rickon Stark died just so he could provoke Jon Snow to act irrationally and spur him into conflict? Why didn’t Rickon run in zig-zag when Ramsay began firing arrows at him? Why did he run into a straight line? Did these writers not watch Prometheus to learn their lessons from it’s mistakes? This problem was carried over in Season 8 and amplified a lot in the Long Night. Many people pointed out the several military blunders made by the protagonists when fighting against the Night King’s army.

youtube

I could talk about the moronic choice to film everything in absolute darkness and make it impossible to see shit.

I could talk about how idiotic it was to waste your cavalry against the enemy bulwark.

I could talk about how they didn’t create trenches with tar or use fire for more effective manner against the undead.

But I’d rather talk about that moment.

Arya killing the Night King.

You know at first I was okay with that because:

I wasn’t being a fan of Jon Snow in a long time.

Arya wasn’t a Mary Sue, had skills that justified her, so I could buy it better.

But the more I thought about it, more I came to the realization that it was a wrong choice all along.

Arya never had any investment in killing the Night King. She was a character defined by a list of people she wanted to kill including the Freys, Cersei, Joffrey and others.

Arya was trained as an assassin yes... But her training in Season 5 and 6 was very lackluster. She spent some time doing menial works, impersonating some people and trying to spill some poison on someone’s drink. She never learned invisibility, teleportation or any other cool shit.

And most importantly... Melisandre predicting that Arya would shut down “blue eyes” way back when they met in Season 3. If she sensed she was always destined to kill the Night King why did she ever support Stannis? Why did she even support Jon Snow? She even referred to him as the Prince that was Promised. Some fans can try to spin this as much as they want, but it breaks the plot retroactively very hard.

The actress herself didn’t think she deserved it

Of course all of these things were ignored by a large part of the fanbase, more specifically the “woke” crowd because YAS QUEEN SLAY. Little did they know that the very next episode would force them to eat a real shit sandwich when “The Last of the Starks” seemed to turn the narrative against Daenerys Targaryen by turning her into the Mad Queen, killing her handmaiden Missandei and setting up Jon to be the next King of Westeros. Not helping matters is that a series of leaks not yet confirmed as of the time of writing were released prior to the episode (but I personally feel they were legitimate due to some specific things but that is not the point) which sent many Daenerys fans into panic mode.

Speaking as someone who really doesn’t like Daenerys Targaryen, I can actually sympathize with them at some level because this shift appears to be very sudden specially now that the authors favored her more until this very moment. Some viewers can argue that there were always signs like her burning the Tarlys for refusing to bend the knee, which I personally took issue with before but it never really came across as the sign of an insane ruler since she offered very valid rebuttals. It all seemed like the plot was tailored to take her side no matter what and I considered Dany a Mary Sue. But just because they seem to be turning her into a villain now, it doesn’t make me hate the story any less.

Now... I spent an inordinate amount of time bitching about Game of Thrones and if you are an Star Wars fan that doesn’t know anything about it, you might be lost to anything I am writing. Well I needed to give an proper context to both GoT and SW fans since those seem to overlap now and give you a warning because Star Wars seems to be more lost now than ever. D&D were never particularly good writers, they were incoherent about continuity, care more about spectacle over substance and seem to share a thing about subverting the audience’s expectations like a certain Ruin Johnson who succeeded in completely ruining a franchise like there was no tomorrow. The key difference between D&D and Ruin is that the duo doesn’t share the same flippant attitude or picking up fights with fans on Twitter - on the contrary, D&D understand the power of fanservice even if it means daggling the metaphorical shining keys in front of the audience.

As we come close to Game of Thrones conclusion, I have a feeling that nobody will truly come out satisfied with it should the story take the direction that we are really dreading. I’ve seen interviews about how Emilia Clarke sounds really sad and deflated, seemed like she was really disappointed with how the show ended. Whatever happens, the blame can be laid on the feet of Benioff and Weiss for their frankly baffling creative decisions. This season has been disappointing through and through with two or three episodes being needlessly long and filler to booth and to make matters worse, it was supposed to end earlier than 10 episodes. Why did they need to rush it and yet fill the series with so much dead air?

Now can you imagine a Star Wars movie made by them? With all these things I listed? The next trilogy is already dated, we don't know if it's D&D or Ruin Johnson yet. We are talking about a couple of writers that have no sense of realistic scale, continuity or logic, but rely on cheap emotional tricks to have the audience invested until they begin thinking about it. I would laugh until I was sick if this season turns everyone against those two fuckwads that Disney changes their mind about putting them in charge. If the world was a just place, this is what would happen at least.

#star wars #game of thrones #rants

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your-iron-lung · 6 years ago

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The Language of Birds

A man saw a bird and found him beautiful. The bird had a song inside him, and feathers. Sometimes the man felt like the bird and sometimes the man felt like a stone- solid, inevitable- but mostly he felt like a bird, or that there was a bird inside him, or that something inside him was like a bird fluttering.

This went on for a long time.

-Richard Siken

available to read on A03 HERE

Sometimes love manifests itself as a disease; nigh incurable and invariably fatal. Hanahaki, they call it- the disease of flowers.

Steve has lived his entire life with it, managing the symptoms as best he can until he simply can’t any longer. He’s never met anyone else who’s suffered the same way until Billy Hargrove.

Pairing: One-sided/unrequited Harringrove

Word Count: 2349

Rating: Non-explicit

so um. an overwhelming amount of people wanted a sequel to ‘The Language of Flowers’, or at the very least a happy ending variant but uhhhhh

:^)

i am a creature that thrives off of sadness and misery im sorry

The first time it happens, he doesn’t understand why the rest of his elementary school friends run from him screaming ‘cooties!’ at the top of their lungs.

Steve holds the yellow flower petal in his hand and cries because he doesn’t understand what it means, or why it came from so deep within his itchy throat. His mom thought he’d had something called ‘strep’, but when the beautiful, kind Ms. Julia takes him to the school nurse he finds out she was wrong.

Both Ms. Julia and the nurse share a worried glance when he presents his flower petals to them. The nurse calls his mom, and for a moment Steve believes he’s in trouble, but if being in trouble means he gets to spend some extra time alone with his teacher, then, well, maybe getting into trouble is worth it.

His mom picks him up from school early, but instead of going home she takes him to an emergency doctor even though he doesn’t feel sick. She looks so scared that Steve becomes scared, worried of what he’s done wrong to prompt this trip.

He asks her what’s wrong, why the strep is causing flower petals to push up out of his throat, but she doesn’t answer; only attempts to comfort him by repeatedly saying: “It’s nothing, sweetheart, don’t worry. You’re okay.”

But the doctor disagrees with her when they finally arrive.

The doctor is young, but is already outstanding in her field. She’s the only doctor close to Hawkins that treats Hanahaki Disease, but she’s never had to treat it in a patient as young as the little Harrington boy.

“It’s rare, but not entirely unheard of,” she says to Mrs. Harrington, who has tears in her eyes and won’t take her hand away from her mouth, already grieving. Steve watches them talk from atop the examination table, holding a few of the yellow petals in his hands. They’re soft and velvety; smooth to the touch, and he doesn’t know why they should be causing his mother so much distress. “Children fall in love with things all the time; just because they’re young doesn’t mean they’re immune to their feelings.”

The doctor turns away from his mother and smiles at Steve, coaxing a shy smile from him in return.

“What’s the name of your favourite teacher at school, Steve?” she asks, and Steve’s shy smile transforms instantly into one that is so much more genuine; he even starts to giggle.

“Missus Julia.”

“Is she nice?” Steve nods, fingers tightening around the petals. “Pretty too I bet, huh?”

“Yes,” he replies. “She smiles at me every day.”

The doctor turns a knowing look to his mother, who finally takes her hand away from her mouth to speak.

“Is it- will he be okay?”

“Hanahaki is 100% treatable, but I’d like to take some x-rays to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

Steve’s mother nods, and the doctor takes him by the hand and leads him out of the room.

The technicians take the x-rays, cooing over how adorable little Steve is. The doctor of course agrees that he is, but this is a medical practice, so could they please not get too distracted? The x-rays come back quickly enough after their exchange, and the doctor is dismayed by what she sees. Steve’s condition is abnormal in more ways than one, which is saddening, because his capacity for love is so strong.

Even still, she understands his life is on the line, and the disease must be treated.

“In most cases, Hanahaki manifests itself in the host’s lungs,” she begins, speaking slowly as she pins up the x-rays to the light board for Mrs. Harrington to observe, “but in Steve’s case, it appears to have taken root in his heart-”

“His heart?!”

“Yes,” she replies calmly, aware that Steve is monitoring their reactions. “Again, it’s not untreatable, but the usual recommended surgery to remove it is invasive, and not generally recommended for a patient his age.”

Mrs. Harrington starts to cry, and the doctor really wishes she hadn’t. It’s not an ideal situation, but it’s not like her son is dead. On the examination table behind them, Steve shares in his mother’s grief and also begins to cry.

He sees the doctor off and on throughout his life. His unique condition requires routine monitoring to adjust medication doses in order to keep the flower from completely harvesting his heart, because no one wants to have to put him through the open-heart surgery to remove it. They become friends, in a word- about as good of friends as a doctor who treats a patient with a chronic heart condition can be friends- and he’s never really been unhappy to see her until his break up with Nancy.

His medicine stops working. The flowers and pain in his heart become more persistent, and he’s ashamed to admit that he breaks down in the exam room over it.

“Bullshit,” he mutters, spitting Nancy’s words out with disgust. He reaches into his mouth and pulls out a petal that’s been caught in his throat for the past hour. “It was all just bullshit to her.”

His doctor smiles a bit sardonically, and she wishes she could tell Steve that first loves often are just bullshit, but she’s not a therapist and doesn’t want to invalidate his feelings, although she knows that Nancy is just one of many in a long series of heartaches for Steve.

“How long have your symptoms been persisting?” she asks, kindly ignoring his tears as he wipes them away.

“Couple of weeks. A few months, maybe.”

“Steve.” She doesn’t bother hiding her disapproval, her brow furrowing as she admonishes him. “Months? You should’ve come sooner; you can’t afford to go months without treatment!”

“I didn’t want to believe it, alright?!” he says angrily, though most of his anger is directed towards himself for believing everything was fine in spite of the evidence. “We were happy; she told me she loved me, kept telling me she loved me, so how could I be choking up those fucking flowers if that were true?” He sniffles and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, collecting himself before he can address his physician again. “I mean, would you believe it, if someone kept saying that to you?”

Her professionalism keeps her from answering honestly.

“I would have come to see me the minute I realized my medication stopped working,” she says and sighs, studying him for a minute. That great capacity to love that he’s carried with him since he was a child is still strong, and she’s comforted by that thought, but at the same time it’s worrisome. “The growth in your heart could have advanced; we need to make sure it hasn’t.”

He touches his hand to his chest briefly, still wallowing in his sadness, and she sympathizes for him, she really does, but he’s treading a very fine line: to let the disease advance any further could result in surgery. Steve stays quiet while the x-rays get taken, and his doctor is relieved to see that the flower’s growth has been minimal. The roots have spread, yes, but it isn’t gotten to the point where he needs the surgery just yet, though there isn’t much point in fighting the inevitable.

“Don’t do this again, Steve; you’re really pushing your limits here.”

She ups the dosage on his medication and prescribes him an anti-depressant and releases him back into the world he can’t afford to love too strongly.

When Billy goes down hard on the court after being shoved violently aside in what should have been called out as a foul, everyone expects him to get back up and start a fight over it, but he doesn’t. No one’s sure what to do when he starts coughing, and Steve swears the whole gymnasium goes quiet just so they can listen to each strangled intake of breath.

His teammates cast nervous looks at each other, but no one makes a move to help him. As captain of the team, Steve takes the initiative and jogs over to his side to try and help him up. Billy brushes him aside but he persists, reaching out his hand for support but stalls when Billy throws up, a horrific mixture of blood and flowers spewing across the midcourt line.

“Holy shit dude,” he says, brown eyes blown wide at the familiar sight.

“Fuck off,” Billy hisses before fleeing the scene, leaving the mess for the Belleview High janitor to mop up so they can finish their game.

Steve watches Billy’s health deteriorate rapidly over the course of the next few weeks, and it’s like he’s seeing an alternate version of himself that decided to rot instead of seek help with treating the symptoms.

It’s agonizing seeing him like this; suffering to maintain an image that is losing value the more time that passes.

So he tells him about his doctor; about the options she provides so that maybe he doesn’t have to die if he doesn’t actually want to, because despite what he says, there’s a spark in his eye that shines when he looks at Steve that suggests he isn’t seeking death quite as hard as he lets on that he is.

In the end, he gets the treatment. Goes to see Steve’s doctor and comes back to school healthy as ever, physically. He does a good job of hiding it, but Steve can tell that, emotionally, Billy hasn’t healed, and there’s something about his sorrowful looks and how beautiful his personal tragedy is that draws Steve in, compels him to care despite his best efforts not to. Billy’s not the first boy he’s managed to develop strong feelings for, but when the flowers come back, again, he tries to tell himself that he’s wrong: there’s no way in hell he’s fallen for Billy Hargrove.

Except, the flowers are different this time.

For as long as he can remember, the flowers he’s been infected with have always been the same colour and texture: for his elementary school teacher, for his middle school crush, for the French foreign exchange boy that came to Hawkins freshman year, and even for Nancy, the flowers in his heart have always manifested themselves as soft and yellow. But the flowers he coughs up for Billy aren’t yellow, or velvety soft to the touch- no, instead he finds himself coughing up husks. Paper-thin, dried up, brittle petals that cause tears in his throat when he coughs that give the little grey shreds some colour.

When he coughs up flower petals this time, they’re dead.

He panics; what does it mean? What could it mean? It’s related to Billy in some regard, but his fear prevents him from thinking too much about it.

His medicine stops working and the coughing gets worse. Steve heeds his doctor’s prior advice and immediately goes to see her, but she isn’t as surprised as he thought she’d be.

Just like with the rest of the circumstances surrounding his variant of the disease, it’s extremely rare, but not entirely unheard of.

“It happens, from time to time,” she explains, studying one of the petals that Steve coughs up. It falls apart easily in her fingers, but has hard edges that’ve been tearing up her patient’s throat.

“Why?” Steve asks, and his voice is hoarse from the abuse it’s been enduring. “It’s never been like this before.”

His doctor tilts her hand over the little garbage bin in the room and lets the fragile petals fall in. She wipes her hand clean of the remains and then takes a seat on a little black stool, flipping through Steve’s file.

With a deep intake of breath, she sets the file aside and looks Steve in the eye. “When a patient exhibits symptoms like this, it’s because the subject of their affection physically isn’t capable of reciprocating.”

“What does that mean?” He feigns ignorance, but he understands the implication of her words.

Billy. Billy had liked him; had had real, genuine feelings for him that had eventually begun to kill him, and Steve had so callously rejected him- told him to get them cut out and to move on.

“I mean, why let yourself suffer over someone who doesn’t even like you back, right?”

But how could he have known? How could he have possibly known?

There was nothing, never an indicator that Billy could have ever liked him- except, except for all the side-long glances Steve had pretended to ignore. The way Billy always sought him out after their team won a game to softly touch him on the back in shared congratulation with a hand that always lingered a little too long. The smiles, the goading, the pathetic attempts to always be in Steve’s periphery to just be able to look at him.

His chest feels heavy, and his heart aches like the roots of his disease are strangling it when he remembers the gory mixture of flowers and blood Billy spit out for him.

“You know what it means,” his doctor says with a soft voice, watching him somberly as he blinks out a few tears. “We’re going to have to remove it now, Steve, do you understand? It’s in its final stages now.”

Steve nods, shakes his head, lets out an abrupt sob and nods again.

He lets her call his mom from her office to talk about his progress and to schedule the surgery.

Because of the severity of his operation, Steve is benched from playing in any of the remaining games his team has left in the season, but that’s fine; Steve finds it very hard to care about the sport when Billy won’t even look at him anymore. The asshole doesn’t even try to rile him up the way he used to, and half the fun of playing on a team with a man like that was the competition between them.

But now there’s nothing left.

Steve’s chest still hurts, but it’s only because he’s recovering now.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #hanahaki disease #harringrove fic #stranger things fanfiction #unrequited feelings #one-sided attraction

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dammnimagines · 7 years ago

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Where They Belong

Writer - @dammnimagines Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters or events of The Maze Runner series. All credit goes to the creators and producers.

Pairing - Newt x Reader Summary - Newt and (Y/N) both realize the decision they have to make.

Warnings - SPOILERS, sad and angst-y

The mind truly was the scariest place of all.

(Y/N) had learned this the hard way. She had gotten the flare and was turning into a crank slowly but surely. The disease ate at her brain slower than it had done to Winston. Her veins were raised and blue, eyes sunken in, her once (E/C) eyes that anyone could get lost in now dark and dreary. More often than not she had blue liquid running out of the side of her lips as she was nearly constantly coughing it up. She had random burst of anger and lost for sanity at times, she knew her time was coming to end sooner rather than later. Everybody knew.

Newt wasn’t too far behind (Y/N) in the sense of the virus overcoming his mind and body. It scared both of them, the thought of living without the other was something they came close to that in the maze when Newt had his accident and they didn’t want that again, especially (Y/N).

“Newt.” (Y/N) breathed out. Her and Newt were leant against a wall Thomas, Minho, and Gally were off a few hundred feet, out of sight and ear shot to talk about what to do as the couple couldn't keep up. They needed to get to Brenda and Frypan who had the cure.

“What, love?” Newt didn’t look up from the ground, the both of them knew what (Y/N) was about to say.

“It’s over for me.”

“Don’t say that.” Newt grunted out through gritted teeth.

“I want you to shoot me before I become a crank.” (Y/N) ignored Newt’s comment.

“Wh-what?” Newt whipped his head over to look at the girl he loved, he never expected to hear those words come out of her mouth.

“I want you to kill me. I don’t want to hurt or kill you or anyone. I want you to be the one behind the trigger.” (Y/N) stated, pulling a gun out that was tucked into the back of her jeans and placed it next to Newt.

“(Y/N). Love I can’t do that.” Newt’s eyes water with tears.

“Newt, please.” (Y/N) pleaded with the blond boy as he pulled her to him. She was now sat between his legs their arms tangled together as they held each other, “Everything hurts. I can’t keep doing this. I just want it all to be over. I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt or even worse, killed you or anyone in this group.” Tears were streaming down both their faces, Newt pressed their foreheads together.

“Love, please.” It was his turn to plead, “I-I can’t do th-that.” Sobs were racking through his entire body, (Y/N) placed a hand on his face.

“Yes you can, Newt. I want you to, I’m only holding all of you back, I’m weaker than you. Fry and Brenda have the cure not too far from here. You can make it. You will beat this world, you’ll destroy WCKD and save all those kids side-by-side with Thomas and Minho.”

“No love. Not without you. Please baby.” Newt begged and pleaded with the girl who already made up her mind.

“I love you more than anything, Newt and if taking a bullet for you is the way to save you then so be it. I’ll do it. I’ll do it a thousand times over because that’s how much I love you. Now please, make the hurt stop.” Both (Y/N) and Newt were sobbing at this point. (Y/N) tried avoiding his gaze knowing she couldn’t see the blood-shot, teary eyes he possessed.

“Look at me, baby.” (Y/N) looked at the boy she loved. Newt knew he couldn’t deny her what she wanted, he knew it was going to hurt worse if he saw her in pain or hurt herself, she had already pull out some pieces of her hair, she tried clawing her eyes out already. He couldn’t bear seeing her hurt herself.

“I love you more than anything, my love.” Newt said pulling the girl closer to him if that was even possible, “I’ll do anything for you. You mean everything to me. Never forget that. I’ll see you soon, baby.”

Newt didn’t allow her to respond and smashed their lips together in a final kiss. The boy who was called the Glue placed the end of the pistol against (Y/N)’s temple, they both were shaking uncontrollably, their tears combining as they continued to kiss.

Newt pulled the trigger.

The gunshot reached the ears of Minho, Gally, and Thomas who all exchanged a look before running to the source of the sound. Where they left the couple. What came into sight was something horrid.

(Y/N)’s body was limp against Newt’s. He had dropped the gun and held her close to him, one hand holding her head into the crook of his neck, the other wrapped itself around her middle, shocked at what he just did. He was rocking her back and forth as his whole body shook with sobs and screams that he let out.

“You’re okay now. I’m so sorry baby. I love you. I love you. You’re okay now, I promise you love. I’m so bloody sorry. I love you so much, I promise. You’re okay.” Newt keep repeating to himself as he continued to rock back and forth.

“Newt?” Thomas asked quietly as not to frighten the crying teen.

“She wanted it!!” Newt yelled out, raising his head to look at the three boys who now stood in front of him.

“Okay. We believe you.” Thomas replied, putting his hands out to show a surrender to the blond.

“I can’t do this, not without her.” Newt’s breathing became labored as he stared down at girl whose eyes were shut as he watched the color leave her face.

“Yes you can, Newt. Come on.” It was Minho’s turn to try convincing Newt while also holding back tears. He and (Y/N) were close, really close, they were like siblings: always bickering and sassing each other but when it came down to it, they’d always defend each other.

“Shut up!” He held at his best friend. It was happening again and they all knew it, the virus took over once more. “This is your fault.” Newt growled out looking at Thomas.

“Look what you did! This is all your fault!!” Newt was screaming at Thomas at this point, Thomas was also crying not only at the fact that his best friend was screaming at him, blaming him but also at the fact that (Y/N)’s death was, in part, his fault. He’d never told Newt but Thomas remembered it was his choice to send (Y/N) into the maze, after he noticed that Newt’s brain activity was showing signs of depression he sent (Y/N), Newt’s girlfriend way before the mazes were even built, into the horrid trial even though he knew she wasn’t immune.

“Newt-” Thomas started.

“Kill me!” Newt screamed at Thomas, taking everyone back. “Do it!”

“Newt you’re not thinking straight.” Gally sternly said.

“Shut it, Gally.” Newt never took his eyes off Thomas.

“If you’ve ever been my friend. Kill me.” Newt looked back down at the girl, “I can’t live without her. So do it.” It was barely above a whisper. Minho, Thomas, and Gally were sharing looks. They all knew the connection that (Y/N) and Newt had, it could never be broken and neither could live without the other. They knew Newt would fall lower than he ever had before if he was to have to leave (Y/N) behind but that didn’t mean they weren’t going to try not to talk him out of this decision.

“Newt. Listen please. We know how much you love her, but she wouldn’t want you to do this.” Minho said coming close to the couple, Newt clutched (Y/N)’s body closer to him like a child would a teddy bear or blanket.

“Please. Life hasn’t been so great anyways and this will only make it worse. I’m not going to last much longer anyways.” Newt’s bloodshot eyes stared into Minho’s, “I’m only slowing you guys down.” Newt used (Y/N)’s words.

“Okay, Newt. If this is what you want, then it’s what you deserve, you’ve had a long life and I can’t deny my best friend any longer.” Minho said tears in his eyes, no one expected Minho to be the one saying those words especially to Newt.

“Thank you for being my friend.” Newt replied staring Minho in the eyes, both boys crying as Minho stood up and went behind Thomas who began crying too, raising his own gun to point at Newt’s head. Newt gripped (Y/N) tighter to him and looked right at Thomas and said three dreaded words that would haunt them for the rest of their life.

“Please, Tommy. Please.” Newt begged.

Thomas pulled the trigger.

Newt’s body fell limp as the bullet entered his brain. There was silence between the group of three boys. All of them stared down at the couple who were lifeless on the ground. Their suffering was over and they were In each others arms. Where they belong.

A/N Okay I just made myself cry. I know this didn’t stick to the book but I had to write this due to the movie’s release being today. I originally wasn’t going to kill Newt but I left and came back to this and just thought it would add to the dramatics. I am so sorry.

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lourouses · 6 years ago

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bts fic rec list

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171805 We Are Bulletproof by resonae | slight yoonjin Namjoon doesn't pretend, not even for a second, that he doesn't know what Seokjin does to keep them all going. That Seokjin gave up everything so the rest of them could have a chance at something better. //OK BUT THIS IS VERY HEAVY SO UHM YEAH, rated M+ imo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542680 Who Would Be Born Must First Destroy a World by metastacia | namjin sorta Once you make a decision, does the universe bend itself to make it happen? Is destiny a matter of chance, a matter of choice, or an exchange of blood, sweat and tears? All Seokjin knows is that no good deed goes unpunished, and the bruises on his being attest to all the good he's done in his life. In order for someone to be happy, someone else must hurt. The wings on his back, he believes, don't belong to him, but to the people he loves. So, one by one, he rips them off. - In which Jin has the power to change the lives of the people around him at the cost of his own life, and Namjoon will destroy a world if it means he could save Jin.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193369 can you feel my heart? by euphoriae | vhope "You're so beautiful, Hoseok. I would have loved you forever." Hoseok never wanted to meet his soulmate. So he has his soul tattoo removed, only to find Taehyung, his soulmate, and also the tattoo artist to remove the bond.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257283 Blackjack by nicowememoney | namjin, yoonseok, vmin [Group052] Jung_HS: anybody there [Group052] Jung_HS: help im alone in this weird small room and its so dark and theres no door no nothing only this weird touchscreen device thing on the wall [Group052] Jung_HS: anyone? [Group052] Min_YG: I’m here, same situation [Group052] Min_YG: Damn if we’re group 052 does it mean that there are at least 51 other groups like this what kind of mass kidnapping is this [Group052] Kim_NJ: I think there’s more. [Group052] Kim_NJ: Why else would there be a 0 in front of the 52 unless they need the third digit? There can be hundreds of groups. [Group052] Min_YG: Wow you’re a smart one aren’t you, now find a way to get us out of here [Group052] Kim_NJ: I’m at a loss. If we can get to talk to whoever abducted us we might figure something out. Pied Piper: Hello. I am your kidnapper. Do you want to play a game? [Group052] Min_YG: Holy shit In which seven strangers are abducted to secluded rooms and forced to play a game of life and death in which they have to communicate with each other through https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571937 Playground Promises by whenflowersbloom | yoonjin, jinmin Taehyung looks at his Daddy Seokjin, lips turned upward but his eyes look like tears are going to fall out of them. Then he turns his head and looks up at his Papa Yoongi, wearing a gentle smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Finally Taehyung stops the swing by grinding his feet on the gravel. He reaches for Seokjin’s hands. “Okay, Papa. Okay, Daddy.” That day Taehyung learns the meaning of the word divorce. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150118 One by whenflowersbloom Everyone is born with a series of numbers on their forearms. People spend their lives trying to figure out what the numbers on their arms mean before they get there, and when they think they know what it means, they either spend the rest of their lives preventing it, never letting the number go any lower, or they try to speed up, eager to get there already, for everything to end. Whatever the end is, it is almost, always life changing, and always never what people think. Kim Seokjin was born with this number on his arm: one. https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784607 I will help you climb by fitzgarbage | namjin namjoon punches seokjin in the face. twice. //sounds weird but this is a great story about discovering yourself or something and struggles https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244113 dream a little dream of me by eatjins (fishcakes) | yoonseok Yoongi's dream has always been music and Hoseok's dream has always been Yoongi. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769220 Always There by Starlight1395 | brot7 Jungkook, the Golden Maknae, sees more than his hyungs think he does. He sees them break down, break apart, and is there to help piece them back together again. Each of them have their own demons to face, but Jungkook makes sure they don't face them alone. What happens, then, when the youngest is the one who is left alone? https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405873 Unrequited by resonae | yoonjin, taejin The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned. Seokjin starts coughing up crimson-red rose petals. https://archiveofourown.org/works/5182697 Safe and Sound by bazooka | namjin From a tumblr prompt: Jin is a prince, and Namjoon is his bodyguard. "You're sort of bad at this." "Nah. You're safe, aren't you?" https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065640 Till Death Do Us 'Part by resonae | namjin Namjoon and Seokjin are trapped on the bottom of a sunk ferry. https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683651 Another Time by jawsbar (GryfoTheGreat) | yoonseok Yoongi's neighbour tries to kill him. He's not particularly offended; she is, after all, four. What he is offended by is her father. Her kind, funny father, who smiles at him like the sun and is just as blinding... (Or: Jung Hoseok is the single father of the weirdest child Min Yoongi has ever met, and he thinks he might be falling in love.) https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212779 I lost you by BlueEuphoria | jikook, vmin ''I'm in love, Tae.'' And just like that, Taehyung thinks that he'd still have his place if Jungkook was not there. https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135196 Until the Pain Stops by RunawayFantasy | jinkook Some days, Seokjin is able to get out of bed and act like everything doesn't hurt, that his mind isn't in a constant battle. Some days, Jungkook comes home to find Seokjin unable to move, the pain too crushing. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951086/chapters/32113686 Only fools fall for you by Manek | namkook Namjoon is a fool //this one inspired my huge fic plot drabble (mainly mine's a huge ripoff lmao) https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821624 Out of Time by sopek00k | yoonseok In a world where people can have Timer implants to know the exact moment they'll meet their soulmate, Yoongi isn't too keen on participating on the craze. He has about a million reasons why, he swears it. That is, until Namjoon convinces him to finally get a Timer. What is Yoongi really afraid of? And can he avoid fate? https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695082 sentient by hugeboymino | taejin seokjin’s therapist doesn’t think taehyung exists. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13008504 allegria by metastacia | yoonseok When Min Yoongi's life falls apart and his world is drenched in darkness, he can't help but feel relieved. The piano he'd once loved, he'd once had so much passion for before it became a burden on him, he no longer has to play. He can finally give up. But Jung Hoseok is a ray of light amidst the bleak, pitch black world that Yoongi sees. https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754184 Time Boils the Rain by SodiumBicarb | OT7 sorta?? Kim Seokjin was a failure at love, so he stopped being Kim Seokjin. //this is a special kind of sadness https://archiveofourown.org/works/4827698 star light, star bright (the last star i see tonight) by kwonsoonday | taekook, yoonseok sorta?? Jung Kook and Taehyung fall in love the summer Hoseok goes missing. https://archiveofourown.org/works/6079209 this feeling (this everglow), by inkingbrushes | yoonseok Hoseok works at a bakery and Yoongi is 1/3 of the country's biggest band. Or: the one where they fall in love at a bakery and Yoongi ends up writing a song about it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/5831449 Black Apples by resonae | yoonjin Yoongi is the angel general and Seokjin is the demon's gatekeeper, but Seokjin isn't like any demon he's met before. https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297159 Save Me by resonae | jinmin In 2016, a list of male idols with sponsors leak to the news outlet. Kim Seokjin's name is on it. -- In 2021, BTS is a group with four Daesangs, record-breaking albums, and six members. Everyone calls them a success. Jimin calls them a failure. //disturbing themes https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293480 If I Die Young by resonae | brot7 Seokjin dies. Bangtan copes. Tries. https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436434 Let It Rain by resonae | yoonjin Seokjin was the spirit of rain, and it rained every time he cried. Humans stopped at nothing to get their rain, and Yoongi was going to stop at nothing to see Seokjin smile. https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786412 Will you be my Forever? by flywithtaetae (kimtaehyungs) | taekook From the moment Jungkook turned 18, he had been excited to see the numbers appear on his wrist. 762 Just 762 days before he finally meets his soulmate. 524 374 341 And then it stops.

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bravonovel · 3 years ago

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The KING'S Sweetheart novel read online - Alexander King and Victoria Hale - Bravonovel

The KING'S Sweetheart

https://www.bravonovel.com/the-kings-sweetheart-8636

Blurb : Thrown out by her own family when Victoria was trying hard to find a shelter for herself and her sick little brother.. He appeared, an ugly looking rich man with a life changing offer.. She has to marry him and be his wife and in exchange he will give her a shelter and her brother's medical fee's.. She agreed for the sake of her brother and stepped into his world where lots of unknown dangers were waiting for her!! But, when the truth revealed, he turned out someone beyond her imaginations and her identity changed dramatically!! Yet, he won't not let her go!! Because, they have been vowed to be together till the end.....

The KING'S Sweetheart novel is a romance story about Alexander King and Victoria Hale.

You can read this novel online on Bravonovel and keep track of the latest chapters.

Read novel The KING'S Sweetheart chapter 1

Victoria was seating stunned, on the dirty couch in her match box size apartment.. She just couldn't believe what just happened few seconds ago!!

.......

Flashback started...

"Go to sleep baby.. I am massaging your head, okay?" Victoria said to her eleven year old brother lovingly..

"But, I want to play games a little more.." Vincent whined and pouted his cute thin lips..

She smiled gently and pecked on his little nose "I know you wanted to play, but you also need some sleep after taking this medicine, Vincy..

"Hey, don't call me me Vincy! It's too girly!!" He was a bit annoyed hearing his nickname given by his elder sister..

"I won't, if you listen to me and close your eyes like a good boy.." Victoria replied playful..

"Finehh.. Guess I should listen to you.. After all, I am giving you a real hard time.. Like a burden.." His last sentence was filled with helplessness and sadness..

"Vincent Hale! Don't you dare saying these nonsense further again!!" Victoria said angrily.. "You are not giving me any hard time and surely, you are not my burden!! You are my brother, understand?"

Vincent pursed his lips and nodded his head quickly. He wrapped his arms around her neck, hiding his head on her chest, he spoke slowly with his broken voice "I love you sisi.. You are the best sister anyone can get.."

Victoria felt a jolt of warmness inside her heart.. She loves her little brother so much!! Wrapping her arms around him she hold him tightly "I love you too, Vincent.. You are the best little brother one could ever get.." Tears rolled down from her eyes..

"Now sleep, okay? I am massaging your head.." She replied while fixing the quilt on him..

Vincent nodded smiling while whipping the tears away.. "Okay.."

After putting him into sleep, Victoria sighed at the sight of the little kid.. Her eyes became teary again.. What a player destiny is, isn't it!? Otherwise, why would this innocent kid is suffering from the deathly disease, blood cancer!?

He is in the second stage and doctor has suggested a chemo therapy and assured that it's curable.. But the problem is, it's too costly and they doesn't have money for eating three times a day! Then where would she manage the money for therapy!?

Currently, Victoria is doing few numbers of odd jobs to collect money for her brother's treatment.. Yet, it's not enough..

It would not be a problem if their father was still alive.. After their father's death their step mother vacant them away from the house, saying that she can not waste all the fortunes to cure Vincent..

It's been more than five months and somehow both brother and sister managed to fight with all the crisis.. But now, it's looking like she is going to fail it..

"Ting tong~ ting tong~"... Victoria jerked out from her thoughts hearing the door bell.. She looked at the watch, it's 8 p.m at night. Who would come at this hour! Maybe, the landlady! But, didn't she begged for another week yesterday!!

Nervous, Victoria opened the door and she literally jumped in fear seeing four men in front of her.. All of them were expensively suited.. but, one has covered his face with hoody..

"Y.. Yes!?" She asked nervously..

"Miss Hale?" The guy beside the hoody man asked..

"Y..yes.. I am.. But, who are you?"

"Well, we are here to meet you miss.. More precisely, to give you an offer.. Can we get inside?" The same man asked.. There was a faint professional smile on his lips..

Victoria was hesitating whether to let them in or not.. The man might got the hint and again spoke "Don't worry miss, we are harmless.."

Finally, she nodded and step aside "please come in.."

And all four of them went inside.. All of them were tall over 6 feet and well built.. Her matchbox size apartment looked much smaller in front of them.. She felt Suffocated..

Two men found some space on their own behind her grimy looking couch and stand still like a robot, clearly they are bodyguards.. And the hoody man was looking around her apartment along with the other one, who talked to her and seems kind of normal than others with him..

However, the expression of his face was kind of awkward.. Sure, he doesn't like the room at all..

"Well gentlemen, we are poor and have only this.. You have to adjust yourself here.." Victoria shrugged while saying..

The guy put a professional smile again and replied quickly "certainly miss Hale, we can understand.. By the way, I am George Black and he (pointing at the hoody man) is Mr. King, our boss.. Basically, he has something for you.."

Victoria watched the man curiously.. But, without his lips and chin his whole face is covered with the huge hoody he was wearing.. "Okay? Umm.. Please seat.." She offered them to take a seat..

Mr. King took a glance of the couch for a moment, as if fighting with himself to take a seat and then finally he sat down like a king himself..

George also seated on the edge of the couch beside him.. Victoria grabbed a tool and placed it maintaining a polite distance in front of them.. "Please, go ahead.. What do you have.." She said..

.....

......

Continue to read the chapter 2 of the novel The KING'S Sweetheart Read more exciting novels on Bravonovel App

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quietasasanctuarymouse · 3 years ago

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Season 1 Episode 3 1/2 ~ Tuatha De Danaan

Helen Magnus sat on the edge of the desk in her office, her legs crossed demurely, the erratic flexing of her feet in their black patent pumps the only outward sign of the nervous energy coursing through her body. Hands grasping the lip of the desktop to either side of her, she leaned forward slightly, all attention focused on Will Zimmerman in the armchair opposite her.

“Are the current security protocols really enough? I mean, they know where we are, they’ve been inside, seen the layout of the facility, and, Magnus, they were pretty pissed.”

“It’s alright, Will. I have my contacts keeping an ear to the ground about any and all Cabal activity, especially in areas near any of the Sanctuaries. This encounter was instigated because of our possession of Danu and her sisters, nothing more. The Cabal have been in operation for centuries and the Sanctuary Network has been a large force for the last two. They have never crossed our path in such a way before, and I see no reason for them to again now, not since they got their ‘property’ back anyway.”

Will pulled his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose and fidgeting with the tines. “Are you saying you think this is over? That you believe the Cabal’s sole interest in us was reclaiming the Morrigan and now that they have them we’ll never hear from them again?”

Helen gave a cheeky grin, “Not hardly. I’m saying they’re smart, resourceful, focused, and patient. This isn’t over by a long shot, but whatever their endgame, our encounter with them two nights ago wasn’t part of it. They never intended to turn their hand to us in such a way at this time. It was a fluke because of the situation with the Morrigan. Now that it's happened, they’ll be planning their next moves even more carefully. Such intentions can be corroborated by the utter silence that has fallen since they left here with the sisters.” She smiled reassuringly. “This isn’t over, but we have time. They won’t be making any moves, not yet. Trust me, Will. When they do, we’ll know.”

“All that confidence and self-assuredness. Calming the anxieties and reassuring the troops. So attractive.”

Will gave a start at the unexpected sound of the unfamiliar voice, sitting forward in his chair he turned to the doorway to see who it belonged to.

Standing in the slanted early morning sunlight falling through the tall windows of Magnus’s study was a tall, lithe, curvaceous woman of about late twenty-something with milky pale flawless skin, striking red hair the vibrant color of blood that fell to mid-thigh in soft full cascading waves, and startling green eyes like vibrant emeralds lit from within as if the sun shone through the perfectly faceted gemstones. The smooth satin of her green dress, a darker shade of her dazzling eyes, that was something of a cross between Victorian era steampunk corseting and a bohemian sundress swirled gracefully about her alluring shape as she strode into the room toward Helen’s frozen form still perched on her desk. She was absolutely stunning. Her lilting voice like music as she spoke again in her undeniably Irish accent. “I do hope you don’t mind, I let myself in. I did so want to surprise you, and I see that I have succeeded.” She smiled warmly, a twinkle of mischief in her glittering eyes.

Will, mouth agape, turned his attention back to Magnus whose eyes were fixed on this strange woman in a mixture of stunned silence and surprised delight. He had only known her a short time, but nothing about her had in any way indicated to him that she was the type of woman who could be rendered speechless. Even the very unexpected appearance of John Druitt a couple of weeks ago had not stolen her voice. Far from it, and yet here she sat, staring unbelievingly at the mysterious woman standing in front of her.

The woman held out her hands and, as if by automatic reflex, Magnus grasped them delicately in her own and allowed herself to be helped to her feet. The gallant gesture seamlessly flowed into a friendly embrace, the woman placing a lingering kiss on Magnus’s cheek, her long elegant hands cupping Helen’s shoulder blades as she took in the length of her, uttering a whimsical sigh; the whole exchange one graceful fluid motion. “Bí fós i mo chroí. You’re as beautiful as ever, Helen, and I love what you’ve done with your hair,” she smiled as she gingerly stroked a lock of chocolate curl between thumb and forefinger, the back of the latter caressed Helen’s other cheek as the hand slowly brushed by.

The brief, yet intimate, physical contact seemed to break whatever had held Magnus spellbound and brought her back to the present. “Dear Lord,” she breathed, the utterance barely more than a whisper. “I haven’t seen you since….” She trailed off.

“Midsommer. ‘98,” the other woman supplied, her eyes still locked on the radiant blue of Helen’s.

“Yes, I saw you in the drawing room and had intentions of finding you at table, but then you just disappeared. I never saw you again after that.” Will caught the tiniest flicker of sadness behind the wonder in her eyes, so quickly covered he doubted the mystery woman had seen it at all- regardless of how intently their gazes were locked. Helen’s eyes searched the woman’s face, for what Will couldn’t even begin to guess. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl just pop in to see an old friend for no apparent reason?” her grin was cheshire through and through, and Helen’s raised eyebrow brought a melodious laugh. “I never could get anything past you, could I? Bíodh sin mar atá. It was the Morrigan.”

The shift in the tone of the conversation parted the embrace as Helen stepped back into the edge of her desk. “What?” The change of topic alleviating the privateness of the moment, Will cleared his throat. Helen’s eyes snapped to him, still sitting in the armchair. “Oh! I’m so sorry. Will, this is one of my oldest friends, Rowan Llewellyn. Rowan, this is my newest colleague, Dr. William Zimmerman. I do apologize for my poor manners, the surprise of seeing Rowan after so long has just left me a bit flabbergasted. Please, forgive me.”

Will stood, extending his hand to Rowan, “Nice to meet you,” he smiled. “No need for apologies, Magnus. I can understand being surprised to see someone out of the blue after a decade or so of no contact with them.”

Releasing the handshake, Rowan let out a hearty chuckle, “My dear boy, how long have you known our most lovely Helen Magnus?” At Will’s startled look she continued. “The ‘98 that I was referring to was 1898.” She beamed at Helen as Will’s head tennis court swiveled between the two women’s faces, his turn to be rendered speechless.

When Will found his voice, he turned his quizzical gaze on Magnus. “What, did you give her some of your blood, too? Was she also dying of some terrible disease?”

The left side of Magnus’ mouth quirked up into a small smile. “No, actually she was far older than I am now the first time I ever met her.” Will’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Rowan is a Daoine Sidhe. She’s immortal.”

Will turned his stunned gaze to Rowan who laughed lightly, “Well, in so much as long as nothing kills me.”

“Yes, Will, I can see that you have many, many questions. Come, let’s sit and we can talk.” The three of them moved to the seating area around the fireplace, Will taking the far armchair and the ladies settling onto the settee. Rowan crossed her ankles sliding her feet under the edge of the settee, her gaze traveling the graceful length of skin up Helen’s bare legs, the black pencil skirt stopping just shy of her demurely crossed knees, the hands clasped delicately in her lap, the swell of her breasts beneath the blue linen of her blouse, the neckline of which was low enough to catch a glimpse of rounded flesh, the arch and curve of her collar bone, the soft line of her neck adorned by only a few errant curls, her chestnut hair swept up and pinned to one side, her full lips, moving as she spoke to Will. “Before you launch into your, I’m sure, very long list of questions, I have one of my own that I’d like to ask.” Then, those piercing sapphire eyes turned upon her, dark lashes fluttering as their gazes met and she smiled. “You said the Morrigan brought you here?”

For a moment, Rowan said nothing, lost in the depths of Helen’s eyes locked with her own. She dropped her gaze to her own hands resting in her lap and took a steadying breath. Returning her gaze to Helen’s crystalline eyes, she nodded, “Two days ago, they used their powers, for the first time in centuries. I felt the call, and I came to investigate. When I saw that the place they had been was yours, well, I had to stay. To see you. I am so very sorry for the unexpected intrusion.” She smiled warmly at the woman seated next to her, “De réir na déithe go léir, I’ve missed you, Helen. Deeply, and I’d like to spend some time here with you if you don’t find objection. Reminisce old times and catch up on current ones. After all, when the Fates drop you on someone’s doorstep, who am I to turn and walk away?”

The grin that spread across Helen’s lips lit her whole face. She took Rowan’s hands in hers and gave a light squeeze, “Of course. You’re welcome for as long as you like. You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” She squeezed her hands again before letting them fall and straightening back into the arm of the settee. “Alright, William, I can see you’re full to bursting,” she extended her hand to him, offering the floor. “Please, by all means,” a playful smile tugging at the edges of her lips.

“Okay, well basics first, I guess. What exactly is a Daoine Sidhe? An abnormal, obviously, but….” he let the sentence trail, quite literally sitting on the edge of his seat, eagerly awaiting the answer.

“Well, yes,” Helen said, smiling at the obvious connection. “Daoine Sidhe are an ancient race of abnormal, Irish in origin, who have many names and varying forms throughout Gaelic folklore; Puca, Changeling, Banshee, Sluagh, Leprechaun- to name just a few that you’ve likely heard of.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Will sat straighter on the edge of his chair, “You mean to tell me leprechauns and banshees are real, and they’re abnormals?”

“What we are, Sir William,” Rowan interjected, voice full of pride and dignity, “are the Fair Folk. We are Fae.”

“What, like fairies?” Will couldn’t keep the disbelief from his smile.

Helen smiled at his enthusiastic skepticism. “The legends are numerous and varied, some claim they are the descendants of fallen angels, others claim they are from the lineage of the Tuatha De Danaan.” At Will’s raised eyebrows, Magnus forged ahead, “The Tribe of Danu, the Gaelic gods. The Tuatha De arrived in Ireland in clouds of mist, according to the mythos, likely from heaven due to their knowledge of architecture, the arts, and magic. At the First Battle of Magh Tuireadh they defeated the Fir Bolg, thus securing their reign over the land. A Second Battle of Magh Tuireadh was fought and won, however at the Third Battle the Tuatha De were defeated, and when the victors divided the lands with them, they granted themselves the land above ground and they gave the Tuatha De the land underground. So it was that the Tuatha De Danaan came to live in the Sidhe mounds and the Daoine Sidhe were born.”

“Children of gods, really?” Will gave Magnus a look full of disbelief.

“Well, obviously, fallen angels or children of the gods, these are just stories of the old local folklore. A way to explain evolved creatures that differed so drastically from the human cultures of the area. Creatures with advanced abilities that these people had no other way of explaining. The true origins of this evolutionary strand of abnormals has, unfortunately, been lost to history. But the lore is at least colorful and entertaining.”

“Our dear Helen here has devoted her life to science and all of its many pursuits, and so she finds it easiest to explain things in terms of ‘evolution’ and ‘advanced ability’. She always has had rather the hardest time opening her mind to believe in the concept of true magick.”

“Magic? Seriously?” Will gave a chuckle, but the look in Rowan’s eyes quickly silenced it.

“Cén fáth, you did just have a trio of witches in your home, did you not?”

He leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled, trying to digest all this information. Immortal fairies. Gods and their progeny. Magic? “Wait, what did you mean you ‘heard the call’ when the Morrigan used their powers?”

“Danu and her sisters, Tatha and Caird, are part of the old magicks of Eire, just as the Daoine Sidhe are. We are rooted to the lands that bore us, fundamentally connected to it and to each other. When they unleashed their magick, it was like loosing a shockwave. Macalla. It sent a pulse through the Isle of Eire, a pulse that echoed through the hearts of all her Childer. Not much speaks so loudly from the Olde Earth anymore, so when something does we pay heed.”

“If that is the case, then why do we not have the rest of the Daoine Sidhe at our door asking about the Morrigan?”

Rowan’s features became stoic and withdrawn, her gaze turned down to her lap, her hands twisting and bunching the soft fabric of her skirts.

Magnus cleared her throat and as Will’s focus turned to her, he saw a deep sadness in her eyes. “Because, Will, there are no other Daoine Sidhe. Rowan is the last of her kind.”

“Oh. God. I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s alright,” Rowan smiled at him sadly. “You couldn’t have known, and it’s been my reality for a long time. Tá síocháin déanta agam. I can see that you still have many questions. It’s alright, I’ll answer them as best I can. The first, obviously, is that if we are immortal, how can I be the last?” Will nodded. “The Daoine Sidhe have no natural life span; we are born, we grow to maturity, and then we stop, our physical bodies forever frozen at their peak. Some, who are very old, may choose to allow a bit of their age to show, lines at the corners of their eyes, turning hair, but even still, those of our elders who choose this path will only appear as a human of late forties or early fifties. You would never find a Fae the physical equivalent of an average human elder- seventies, eighties, nineties. Because our cells cease their growth process at the height of health and maturity, they never degenerate and decay, therefore we as a species have no natural cause of death. Our life span is indefinite and unlimited by entropy and deterioration.”

Rowan stood and paced to the cold fireplace, hands clasped behind her back, gaze fixed on some invisible focal point beyond the mantle. “That does not, however, mean that we cannot die. We can be killed, we have no immunity to mortal wounds, just as no other creature has no such capacity. We have impressive regenerative capabilities and heal faster and more fully than mortal entities, but a killing blow will end us just as surely as it would you. We also possess rather intense and thorough immune systems, a common cold or flu does not exist for the Fae, nor do any of us succumb to cancer or other such diseases. Yet, that does not mean we cannot fall ill; there are sicknesses that ravage and even kill Daoine Sidhe that you have no knowledge or understanding of, nor would they have any effect on you at all.” She turned back to them and her eyes fell on Will as she continued. “Death, as you know it, is not the only end to life for one of the Fair Folk. Whereas you have no choice in the matter of your eventual and inevitable death, we Sidhe have every choice since a natural end is not afforded us. As a species, eternal life can appear to be a fantastic gift to those who are limited to less than a century. However, to those faced with an endless eternity, such a gift has quite the way of easily becoming a burden and a curse.” For the briefest of moments, she rested sympathetic eyes and a sad smile upon Helen. “Mallacht sáraitheach. For some, this burden becomes too much to bear, and rather than live on endlessly and forever, they choose to simply fade away. The Daoine Sidhe are children of Eire, sprung from her earth and raised on her waters, we are bound to and fueled by her lands- thus the deep rooted connection between all Childer of the Isle- in this way, if we so choose, we can cut our ties to this physical plane and return to the thrum of the magicks of her earth.

“Some of my Kin fell ill to various plagues among our people, more died in one battle or another. As the centuries stretched on and on, most grew weary of endless existence and began to Fade. As more of my Kith Faded into oblivion and our numbers dwindled fewer and fewer and fewer, it became even harder for those left to continue on. The loneliness, the lack of others not only of their kind but of any creature who existed as they did, who remembered times long gone, who held the memories of the Olde Magicks or even the current world while it was still in its infancy. As more and more chose to Fade, usually the oldest first, those among the numbers of our elders dwindled to almost nothingness. Which placed a new strain on those that remained; how do you combat the isolation and abandonment that you feel when there is no one left who remembers the first thousand or more years of your life? How do you convince yourself to push forward when everyone you knew, loved, grew and shared everything with is gone? How do you justify living as worth it when you have literally nothing left, and not even eventual inevitable release is offered you?” Rowan stared unseeingly at her hands in front of her, fingers twisting aimlessly at the ends of her hair. “And so, one by one, all the remaining Daoine Sidhe gave up. The end of the long, distinguished line of a noble species. Faded out of existence leaving naught a trace. Níl ann ach mise, anois. Tá mé i m'aonair.”

A heavy, suffocating silence fell in the wake of her words. Will sat motionless, stunned and shocked, Helen’s blue eyes were filled with tears, a few that had escaped still glistening on her cheeks. When Rowan finally spoke again, her voice, barely more than a whisper, was nearly deafening after the oppressive quiet. “I hope this has been a sufficient answer. Please, William, what else do you wish to know?”

Will nodded, cleared his throat, straightened himself in the chair. “Um, well, I guess,” he paused.

Rowan smiled wanly, “It’s all right. Go ahead.”

He cleared his throat again, “Honestly, I’m wondering why. If you’re all alone and your longevity is such a burden, why did you stay?”

“Why did I not Fade as the rest of my Kith did? Well, at the time I was fairly young, relatively speaking, for a Fae- I still am- I had not spent the time here to grow weary of this life, nor lonesome for companionship and understanding. I was hungry, for everything- life, experience, knowledge. Gach rud. After the first handful or so decades alone, the isolation did start to take its toll; however, I had grown wise enough to recognize that I didn’t wish to take my leave without the full wealth and richness of every experience I desired, and even after centuries of life there were a few I was lacking.” She moved back to the settee and settled herself next to Helen. “I was thirsty for knowledge, the world was just truly coming into it you know, dramatic advances by leaps and bounds, and I wanted to study everything. It was the late 1800s, Oxford was the premier school of the world, and I wanted to learn. I only audited, of course, but I sat in on everything. In the autumn of my first year in London, I met the most exquisite woman,” she reached out and cupped Helen’s face in her hands, tenderly brushing the tears from her eyes as she spoke. “She was bright and vivacious and determined, with the most insatiable appetite for life, knowledge, exploration. The first time I ever laid eyes on her, I knew she was the most radiant creature I had ever beheld. Croí mo chroí.” Helen’s hand raised to her cheek and placed itself gently over Rowan’s. Eyes locked, the two women smiled at each other, lost in memory. Will watched them with deep curiosity as Rowan continued, “She was unequivocally the most alive person I had ever met, not to mention the most mysterious and alluring, and I decided, upon seeing the drive with which she attacked the world, that there was something out there for me that was worth sticking around to discover.”

Will smiled at the sweetness of the exchange, “How did you two meet, anyway?”

Rowan stroked Helen’s now dry cheek affectionately before returning her hand to her lap. “Your turn for storytelling. I’m quite curious to hear how you remember it,” she said with a wink and a smile.

Helen beamed back at her in return. “Cheeky,” she grinned. “It was late September of 1884, I was beginning my third year at Oxford, lectures were done for the day and weather was nice, lots of us were sprawled about the grounds out of doors. Most of the fellows were picnicking or playing various games, a few close friends and I were taking the opportunity to compare notes and discuss theories about a pet project we were working on. There was a bit of a commotion across the promenade that caught our attention, a crowd of young men were striding through the park, all clustered together and adamantly focused on something in the midst of their congregation. My companions stood to see if they could get a better view of what was causing all the ruckus, that’s when the crowd of gentlemen parted and a young woman emerged from within.”

She glided across the grass of the courtyard as if she were floating, her full and flowing skirts trailing behind, a stunning jewel of purple. Her hair glittered in the light of the setting sun like rubies caught fire, plaited in the latest fashions about her crown, long curls spilling elegantly down her back. She moved with such natural grace and it was clear to see why she was leaving gawping faces and enthusiastic clumsy attentions in her wake. She was elegant, fascinating, magnetic. Helen found herself inexplicably drawn to the striking woman. She could hear her companions speaking amongst themselves in the background, but their voices came to her ears as if across a great void. “Who is that?” “New auditing student.” “Have any of you met her?” “When did she arrive?” “Any of you chaps know her name?” None of their conversation really registered with Helen, though, for she was caught in the pull of the tide flowing out, to her. Transfixed, she couldn’t look away. That was when, as if drawn by Helen’s gaze, the woman looked up from her admirers, across the promenade, straight into Helen’s eyes. Breath caught in her chest, heart thrumming in her throat. Her eyes. Glittering emeralds, glowing with their own light, their own life. It was as if the dazzling woman was staring straight into her soul. Her gaze sent chills all the way up Helen’s spine. No one had ever looked at her that way before. No one had ever looked into her. She smiled, and Helen’s pulse fluttered. Then she turned back in the direction she had been heading and was gone.

Three evenings later, one of the senior fellows was holding a formal ‘back to university’ gathering to which Helen and her colleagues were in attendance. While mingling about the salon, mostly speaking of the week’s most fascinating lectures, there was a bit of a hubbub from the front hall. Moments later, the woman from the courtyard entered the parlor. To Helen’s great surprise, within seconds the woman’s eyes locked onto hers and she glided straight across the room, directly toward Helen. The woman both kissed Helen’s hand and dipped into a small curtsy, though their eyes never parted, introducing herself as Rowan Llewellyn, starting her first year of attendance at Oxford. She said she’d very much like to talk to another woman in attendance as she hadn’t met many people since arriving in London and hadn’t even seen another woman about campus aside from Helen, who was rather enamored herself by the idea of speaking with another woman braving the male dominated world of university at that time. She commented briefly about the press of the crowd and the stuffiness of the room suggesting a stroll through the garden; having already been introduced to the world of abnormals by her father almost ten years prior and wishing to have the opportunity to study this woman more closely, Helen leapt at the excuse for a chance to talk privately.

The two women made their excuses to Helen’s companions and arm in arm walked out into the gardens, strolling under the moonlight. Once they had made their way a good distance into the flowers and fountains, well away from earshot of anyone who might come out onto the lanai for some air or privacy of their own, Rowan broke their companionable silence. “Lady Helen Magnus. I asked about campus after you following our brief encounter across the promenade. Might your father be Dr. Gregory Magnus?”

Helen allowed herself a small smile at the interest Rowan had shown in discovering more about her after only a brief glance, “Yes, actually, he is. Do you know him?”

“We’ve never met, but I’ve heard rather a great deal about him over the years. Both him, and his work.” The last word carried a great deal of emphasis. “Do you work with him?”

“My father has shared with me much of his practice, and I hold great interest in working with him on some of his more specialized projects. Though, that won’t begin until after I complete my studies, of course.”

“Of course. You’re in your third year, are you not? A large accomplishment for a woman of these times, especially one so lovely.”

“Are you implying, Miss Llewellyn, that a pretty face hides an absence of intellect?” Helen lifted an eyebrow at such an implication.

“Surely not, my lady. Simply acknowledging that someone with your charms could easily be the prized bride of any prosperous gentleman she chooses, and thus well kept and cared for. To strike out on one’s own and make one’s own way, especially in university halls, in medicine no less, as not only a woman but an enchanting one at that, is an honorable and admirable feat. If it pleases,” Rowan smiled at her with such genuineness it set her heart to flutter.

“My,” Helen stared at her, at a complete loss for what to make of this rare and beautiful creature before her, nor what to make of the foreign feelings swirling inside her.

“You are unique, Lady Helen, and utterly enchanting. I find myself entirely enraptured by you. I would consider myself most fortunate to find myself blessed with the pleasure of your continued companionship during my stay in London. Might I call on you in the future, possibly engage the honor of your guidance round yon fair city?” she dipped a dramatic bow and a cheeky wink, the corner of her mouth quirking into a wry smile.

Helen felt her cheeks warm and was glad for the low light of the starlit garden to hide the color she knew must be there. This woman, the language and gestures were overtly intended as comical, though the affections were obviously genuine. Women did not behave this way toward other women, not in polite society or otherwise, and well-bred ladies attending university to become well respected doctors did not return feelings toward advances from mysterious women they had just met. And yet.

Helen curtsied low to match the obvious drama Rowan had displayed. “It would be my pleasure to accept your call, Miss Llewellyn, and I would be most happy to show you about London. After all, we can’t leave you unescorted on your first journey to our esteemed capital.” She smiled warmly down upon Rowan as the fire-haired maiden bent to kiss her hand, piercing green eyes never leaving her own twinkling blue, Helen’s pulse hammering in her ears.

The distant shuffle of footsteps, the rustle of leaves, faint voices calling out.

“Adieu and anon, Fair Lady. My gratitude for a moonlight stroll with such enchanting company.” Her lips brushed the back of Helen’s hand while she spoke, lingering as she gazed longingly into the intense crystal blue eyes of the radiant woman standing before her. Eyes full of wonder, a playful smile tugging the corners of full supple lips, angelic blond curls spilling over smooth bare shoulders, maroon satin ruched just so to accentuate supple rounded flesh peaking over the top of a shapely corseted bodice. The most beautiful woman she had ever seen, and she was unequivocally spellbound.

The distant shuffle now deliberate footfalls, faint voices now clearly men calling Helen’s name.

Lips pressed a gentle, intentional kiss firmly to the delicate hand she held as she forced herself to stand and pull away. “Tá tú chomh hálainn. Sweet night and pleasant dreamings to thee.” She bowed once more and backed away into the night, disappearing into the indistinguishable shadows of the moonlit garden, eyes still lingering on Helen’s even after the other woman had lost sight of her to the dark.

The crunch of gravel behind her finally tore Helen’s gaze away from the patch of shadow where the enigmatic Miss Rowan Llewellyn had vanished from her sight, the man’s voice breaking into the swirling multitude of thoughts and feelings coursing through her body, “There you are, Darling. Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, of course. Just taking in some air.” The man’s long arm wrapped about her waist, drawing her down the pathway, back toward the party. For a brief moment, she threw a fleeting glance over her shoulder hoping, well she wasn’t quite sure what for. Yet the moment passed, and she settled her stride to match her beau’s. “Shall we take a turn through Piccadilly this evening on the ride home?”

“We saw much of each other throughout the subsequent semester, both on and off campus. We shared several classes whose lectures we enthusiastically dissected with each other, but more than that it was simply thrilling to have a woman to socialize with who wasn’t looking down her nose at us for daring to have the unwomanly audacity to sit next to the men folk in the lecture halls vying for accolades and accreditation equal to theirs. It was a different time, Will, a different world. Women were meant to sit in parlors with their smallwork, to bear babies to their husbands, to organize charity galas, and to keep house. Education of that level for women was unheard of; studying philosophy, science, medicine, well that was the devil’s work.”

Will had listened to Helen’s tale in rapt silence, closely watching the two women sitting across from him. Their eyes had been on each other while Helen recounted their history, and based on the fleeting micro-expressions on their faces and the minute tells of their body language, it was rather clear to Dr. Zimmerman, profiler extraordinaire, that there was more to this story than was being put into words for his benefit. A lot more.

“Well,” Rowan said, “I’m sure there’s questions you now have for Helen alone that you would prefer to ask in private. If the two of you will excuse me, I’ll take my leave of you for now and set about exploring this gorgeous place. I’d like some time to collect my thoughts and wander my own memories, anyway.”

Will tried to keep the surprise out of his expression as he stood to extend his temporary farewells. It was absolutely true that he wanted to talk to Magnus privately for the moment, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how Rowan had known that.

She stood and leaned over Helen, lips caressing her ear as she barely breathed, “I’ll find you later,” too quietly for Will to hear. She then brushed a gentle kiss against the sweep of her neck and left the room in a quiet rustle of green.

Heat rose to Helen’s cheeks as she watched her go, the loose and flowing construction of her dress allowing far more of the shape of her body to be viewed than the many-layered garments of the late Victorian era that she had worn when Helen knew her last. Helen realized she’d been staring after her, and dropped her gaze to the hands clasped in her lap, painfully aware that she was blushing and Will’s keen eye would not miss that fact.

She could feel his penetrating gaze on her as he analyzed what he had just heard and seen and assessed how best to go about getting the information he wished to know.

“Go ahead, Will,” she said calmly. “Ask what you wish to know. I’ll answer. Every room, every door, right?”

“Magnus, this has nothing to do with us working together. This isn’t a patient or a case. This is your personal life. I have no right to pry, nor to demand full disclosure. My questions are merely curiosity from the perspective of a new friend who would like to get to know you better.”

“Go ahead,” she repeated.

Will cleared his throat. “Alright.” He sat forward in his chair, fingers laced, forearms propped on his thighs, eyes focused on her face. “Did, uh, did you two have, um… Did you have a thing?”

Magnus let out a chuckle at his awkwardness as she looked up at him. “No, we did not have ‘a thing’. Mutual attraction, some seriously intense sexual tension, a handful of hidden coatroom kisses. But nothing ever came of any of it.”

Will’s eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline, bringing a grin to Magnus’ face.

“What, because I’m a relic straight out of good ol’ Victorian England, I can’t have kissed a girl and liked it?”

Now it was Will’s turn to feel heat in his cheeks. “No, I just…. What happened?”

“It was All Hallow’s Eve 1885. I was throwing a party, bit of a masquerade. Music, horderves, dancing, drinks. Some fellows from school, some ladies that I knew from our presentation days, some colleagues of my father’s who mostly kept to his library so as not to ‘spoil the fun for the young folks’. Everyone bedecked with masks, offering a bit of anonymity and allowing folks to mingle a bit more freely than they would have otherwise. There had been no receiving line, and I had arrived half an hour into the affair myself, so that no one knew who anyone else was. Everyone danced and milled about having anonymous conversations, it was a grand time. The soiree had been in full swing for about two hours or so, and most of the gentlemen had retired to the front parlor for cigars and brandys, leaving the gaggle of masked ladies to partner with each other on the dance floor, giggling and gossiping. There was a knock at the door, and our man escorted a late guest who had finally arrived to the ballroom. She cut a striking figure in a stunning sleeveless ballgown; black corset with blood red boning, a panel of black lace down the back behind the blood red laces, the voluminous skirt alternating panels of black and red, studded with sparkling gemstones of the opposite color in swirling patterns down the full length of the skirt. Red jewels hung from her neck, and black from her ears, she wore an elaborate mask dancing with gems that shone in the candlelight, as was the call for the night, it obscured her whole face. Yet there was no mistaking that hair. Laced through with sprigs of black pearls, twisted and coiffed and curled into the very definition of elegance, the waves cascading down the center of her back, brushing the waist of her gown, and red as fire rubies.

“She glided across the room, curtsied, and escorted me onto the dance floor where she twirled me about as effortlessly as if we were dancing on clouds, and for the way it felt, maybe we were. By the end of the third song, we had somehow made our way to the doorway of the salon that was serving as coatroom for the duration of the masquerade. She spun me through the doors, had them closed behind us, and was turning me through the final steps of the dance all in one liquid movement. She danced us farther into the room, deeper amidst the rows of racks of coats and furs, further into the shadows. Her eyes held me rapt, my heart in my throat, as she gingerly pulled the mask from my face, smiling, stroking my cheek.

“Your ensemble is stunning, my Lady, but I would gaze upon thy lovely face,” she said. She tugged at the ribbons of her own mask and, once removed, tossed them both onto a chair in the corner, taking my hands in hers. Her eyes. My God, it was like she was trying to drink me up with them. She drew her hands up my arms, across my shoulders, up the sides of my neck. My skin tingled and pulsed under her touch. Those eyes, they searched my face, looking deep for something. They found it, or maybe didn’t, depending on exactly what she was looking for; because then, her right hand still cupping the side of my neck, her left sliding around to cradle the back of my head, she drew me to her, ever so slowly, bent her head, eyes still boring right into me the whole time, and she kissed me. Slow, gentle, lingering, tender. Each caress of lips so deliberate. She held my face, and she breathed in to me, her tongue ran lightly across my lower lip, then she was kissing me again, my lip between hers, sucking ever so softly. My whole body was on fire, I could feel each and every nerve where her skin touched my bare flesh, all of them quivering with desire, and I was intimately aware of the length of her pressed against the length of me as we stood there lost to all the world, save each other. Her fingers slid into my hair at the base of my neck and her other hand glided its way down my back, stopping in that curve just above hips, and she pulled me tighter against her. I could feel the heat, the desire, rolling off her in waves, her breath coming in short gasps, yet every move she made remained very intentional, and the moment went on and on and on.

“I was no innocent maiden at that point in my life, Will. I was thirty-five and while some aspects of physical romance had not yet made themselves known to me, I wasn’t completely ignorant of it all. Now, well, I can assure you I am well and truly an experienced woman, but I have never been kissed like that in my life, ever.

“She drew back from my lips, her face hovering in front of mine, our foreheads almost touching, her breath quick and short, just as mine was, those vibrantly intense emerald eyes of hers staring straight into my soul. For a long moment, she just stood there looking at me, stone still except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Then she pressed her cheek to mine, her lips brushing against my left ear, her breath tickling the few loose ringlets that fell down my neck, and she whispered to me, “I’ve been dying to do that from the moment I first laid eyes on you.” I could feel her smile against my ear. ”I wanted the first kiss I gave you to be one that you would never forget.”

“She let go of me all at once, dropping into a sweeping bow, “Fair night, lovely Lady, and sweet dreamings to thee.” With a flourish, she swept out of the room and was gone.”

Helen’s breathing had quickened with the memory of the kiss, her fingers unconsciously on her lips, and she sat silently, trying to quell the tingling nerves crawling across her skin.

“Wow,” Will uttered, almost to himself.

“That kiss was the singular most paramount experience of my life. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of monumental comparisons by which to judge it.” Helen took a deep, steadying breath. “Things only got more intense from there. On the Christmas Eve of 1891 we held a small get together, just a handful of closest friends, to exchange gifts, eat, drink, and make merry. No band, no ballroom, just an intimate gathering in the salon. I had dismissed the staff for the week to spend time with their families, and so I was playing full hostess that night. The six of us were sitting informally in the salon trading stories and catching up on each other’s lives, we had gone a bit separate ways since Oxford, but we still got together for special occasions. At one point, I had gotten up to take something to or retrieve something from the kitchens- I don’t remember what now- but as I was down the hall, closer to the kitchen than the salon, Rowan caught up to me. She had excused herself from the men and had followed me out. No sooner had I turned around to the sound of her footsteps than she had her hands on my hips, pushing me into an alcove in the wall- someplace we’d be out of the line of eyesight should anyone else leave the salon- her lips on mine, kissing me fervently. She pressed me into the wall, her hands sliding up my sides as she kissed at my neck, my collar bone, across the neckline of my dress, back up my neck, across the line of my jaw. I was panting, my hands running the length of her back, trying to draw her closer to me. Her hips pressed against mine, her strong delicate hands stroked their way up my chest as she ran them up my arms, holding my wrists against the wall above my head, kissing me again and again, harder, with more desperation.

“The whole length of her body now pressed against mine as she held me against the wall, her free hand drawing my skirt toward my waist, her fingertips brushed the bare skin of my thigh, and she traced them up my leg, drawing my knee up to rest on her hip bone, her hand then sliding back to cup my bum. I couldn’t kiss her hard enough, fast enough, deep enough; I just wanted more of her- I wanted all of her.

“Pulling my hips harder against hers, she drew her lips away from mine, again running kisses down and up my neck, a shudder of pleasure coursing through my whole body. Then her whisper brushed against my ear, just as it always did, “My gods, do you have any idea how exquisite you are? I just couldn’t stand it any longer, sitting in there watching you from across the room, not being able to touch you. Is ar éigean is féidir liom é a iompróidh.” She glided the hand she had under my bum up my abdomen and wrapped it around my right breast, squeezing gently, and she kissed me again; deep, passionate, full of hunger and desire, but tender, intentional. “Oh, gods.” She breathed against my gasping mouth, her breath just as ragged and erratic as mine. “Tá m’intinn caillte, you drive me crazy! I swear, I can’t think when you’re around.”

I laughed at her at that, “Oh, please. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and we always talk about the latest scientific advancements, we’ve traded philosophical views for years, you’re knowledge of the arts is vast beyond imagining and you’ve schooled me on more than one o-” Her mouth pressing over mine stopped my train of thought as well as my words.

“Bíodh sin mar atá, I can’t think of anything but you when you’re around. You tucked that errant lock of hair behind your ear earlier, and all I wanted to do was kiss you here,” her lips brushed across my ear, “and here,” the bit of tender flesh just behind the lobe, “and here,” up and down the side of my neck. “You had a bit of jelly tart,” she brushed delicate fingertips across the corner of my mouth, “and I just wanted to,” her tongue flicked across the same spot, then traced my swollen lips before she pressed hers over them again. “You leaned down to set the tea on the table in front of me, and I,” her eyes were watching my chest rise and fall in heavy, panting breaths, her hands sliding over me cupping the underside of my bosom, her hot shallow breath on my skin as she kissed feverishly along the tops of my bare breasts where my corset spilled them out the top of my dress. She muttered into my chest, the exact words muffled and lost in the press of flesh. Their meaning, however, was quite clear. She was just as aroused and hungry as I was, and she also knew just as well as I did that there was nothing to be done about it.

“Don’t look at me like that, Will. It simply wasn’t done in those days, and as open-minded and forward thinking as I have always been, there were some conventions of society that just couldn’t be broken until times had changed enough for me to still keep my feet under me if anything was ever discovered. I was building the Network, after all, and it was a cause just as important to Rowan as it was to me. We both understood what was at stake, and we were both willing to put our personal desires aside for the sake of larger things. Not to mention, we weren’t alone. Four well-known, upstanding, and revered men sitting in my salon at that very moment, one my father. What, precisely, do you think would have happened if we had just disappeared to my bedchamber to conduct our affair?

“With sighs of frustration from our lips and longing in our eyes, we parted ways to compose ourselves and rejoin the rest of our assemblage. Rowan set off to the powder room, and then the kitchen to collect whatever it was I was supposed to be bringing back with me. She’d make my excuses to the boys and garner me a bit more time to get myself together, which I sorely needed.

“A few moments quiet to myself, my legs too weak to hold me without the support of the walls, I was propped in that alcove, my skirts wrinkled, my hair mussed, my breasts spilling a bit overmuch from my neckline. I might have known it was best not to act upon the desires burning within me with Rowan, but I was neither inexperienced nor prude enough to be closed to the notion of acting upon them by myself, if for no other reason than to satisfy my arousal enough to be able to return to my father’s presence without fantasies of a sexy female abnormal flooding my thoughts. So in the handful of minutes that I had left before I was missed overmuch, my own fingers found their way beneath the hem of my skirts and worked at the places Rowan couldn’t touch while the rest of my body quivered with the memory of her caresses still fresh on my flesh.”

Will’s face was so flushed, Magnus thought he might faint. “You did ask to hear this, did you not?” she asked him, a suppressed smile twitching at the corners of her mouth anyway.

“Well, yeah, I just-” He stopped, cleared his throat, started again, “I guess I just didn’t expect that this story would include you, um, well…” He stopped again and made no attempt to continue.

“Did you think me incapable?”

“What? No! I mean, I’d never considered… Uh-” Will floundered miserably, stuttering. Then he noticed the teasing smile spreading on Magnus’s lips and the mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Ah, I see.” He smiled ruefully.

“I am sorry that I’ve embarrassed you, Will. But history lessons about Rowan and I don’t much come without kisses and fondling in some form or other.”

A bit of the extra color had left Will’s cheeks as he flopped back in the armchair, “Jesus. But I don’t understand, you were both obviously into each other, like seriously into each other. I mean, that’s pretty hot and heavy, Magnus. How did you get from that to ‘nothing ever came of any of it’?”

Magnus sighed, a wistful smile playing across her lips. “May Day, 1898, she showed up at a garden party I was hosting. She made eyes to me from across the lawn and disappeared into the house. I excused myself from the group of guests I had been talking to, and I followed her. Once inside, I began hunting through the rooms for where she had gone. As I passed the parlor door, a hand reached out and pulled me inside, sliding the door closed behind me. In the stretch of a blink she had closed the distance, wrapped one hand around my neck and the other about my waist, and her lips were pressed to mine. Delicate, tender, slow. Like the first time. She took her time, gently caressing me with her supple lips. Time slowed, the world disappeared, we were the only two beings in all of existence. When our lips parted, her eyes were more intense than I’d ever seen them before. She took my hands, and her look took on a somber quality.

“Run away with me, Helen,” she said.

Helen let out a peal of ringing laughter. “Be serious, Rowan. Run away? To where, why? Our lives are here, our friends are here, our work is here.”

“I am serious. You’ve been through so much these last years, you need time, you need respite in which to heal. You always spend so much time taking care of everyone else, you take care of the whole world, but you need taking care of too.”

“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you.” Helen smiled in mock offense.

“Yes, I know, but you don’t. You never save any time for yourself.” Rowan dropped her hands and paced anxiously across the floor. Frustration at an inability to express herself was clear in her countenance. “I don’t mean we should disappear, much as I envy the idea of falling off the face of the earth with you. But we could go for a time. Take a trip, we’ll go anywhere you wish. There’s so much of the world it would give me great pleasure to show you.” She turned back to face the golden haired beauty standing in the center of the room; soft sunlight gleaming in her sapphire eyes, playing across the highlights of her delicate curls setting them on fire, creating a fitting halo about her elegant face. Rowan’s pounding heart caught in her throat at the sight. She’s magnificent, she thought, the most glorious creature ever to exist. She’s witty, and charming, and brilliant- one of the foremost minds in the world… and she can’t even see how I feel about her. “Just the two of us, in some far off city, exploring the culture by day,” her vibrant, mossy eyes drank in the length of Helen’s stunning figure, “exploring each other by night. Do come, we could be on the train tonight. Ní fheiceann tú go bhfuil grá agam duit?”

“As enticing as that proposition is, there’s simply far too much to be done right now. With Father away someone has to keep everything in order; the expansions to the Sanctuary, we’re taking on new residents by the dozen, cataloguing the correspondences he’s sending back, to say nothing of the massive shipment he’s sent. I’ve barely even gotten half of it unboxed.” Helen closed the distance between the two women.

“What about James, he could-” Helen laid a gentle finger across Rowan’s lips, silencing her.

“It’s just not possible right now. Too much is at stake, not the least of which if anyone were to see us….” Her words trailed, leaving the harsh reality of the situation unspoken. She slowly twined her arms around Rowan’s waist, palms flat against her back, drawing their bodies closer. “In the meantime,” she smiled, removing the remaining distance between their lips, electricity sparking between them, mouths pressed fervently together, Rowan’s fingers twisting their way into Helen’s curls, soft moans escaping from both mouths.

“This isn’t the end of this conversation, Fairest Lady,” breathless voice emanating through a cheshire grin reaching all the way to probing eyes captivated by the face they witnessed. “I will give you time to get your affairs in order, and I shall ask you again. Perchance you shall be less thoroughly engaged with other pursuits by Midsommer.”

“She wrapped her arms tighter and drew me closer to her. She kissed me like her life depended on it, long and slow, every feeling either of us had ever had for the other all pressed into that single joining of lips. She lingered, like she couldn’t bear to part, and I couldn’t either. When she did pull away, pulled so very slowly away, her eyes on mine, like she was memorizing every facet and shift of color, she brushed her thumb gently over my lips, one final caress. Crossing back to the door, she slipped her hand into the gap and slid one side back into its pocket in the wall. She winked at me, her devilish grin full of cheek, and was gone.

“After a few moments to compose myself and a quick glance in the mirror above the fireplace to make sure my hair was still in place, I smoothed my skirts and followed her through the doorway.

“I didn’t see her for the next fifty-one days, an attempted correspondence elicited a simple written reply, ‘I shan’t engage your attention toward pursuits other than thy current occupation of settling affairs into order, thus possibly engaging another dismissal of my petition for your attendance on holiday.’ Midsommer arrived, and my nerves were fluttering all day long. I had not realized how much comfort I had gotten used to drawing from her steadfast company. I missed her fiercely, and the desperate desire to see her again consumed me.

“Finally, half an hour before the meal was called, I saw her enter the drawing room. I started to make my way across the room toward her, but halfway to her my course was diverted by some associates of a colleague of mine who wished to discuss some funding we had requested for one of our ventures.

“I thought to join her at table, but she wasn’t there. After, when the men retired for cigars and brandy and the women tucked in to gossip, I excused myself and began hunting through the house. She was here somewhere, tucked away in some empty room far from the rest of the gathered crowds, awaiting the chance to steal kisses behind the drapery and in the alcoves, just as she always was. Yet there was no sign of her, and upon inquiry the doorman announced he had seen her depart rather quickly just as everyone had been settling into the dining hall.”

“In the weeks that followed, when she never made an appearance at any of the various social functions, was absent from the music halls and the theatres, didn’t pay a call to any of her friends in residence at the Sanctuary, a dark knot of certainty settled itself in the pit of my stomach. I called to her apartments, even though in my heart I already knew what I would find. “She’s not here, Miss. Took a carriage out well after dark back Midsommer night, loaded down with trucks she was. Left instruction to place the rest of her belongings into storage. Ent leave no forwarding address,” her porter told me when I enquired at the door.

“She was gone.” Magnus’s unseeing eyes stared ahead, looking through the arcane mists of the past, recalling times long gone. Not for the first time, Will wondered just how much had transpired between them that had gone unsaid.

“I never saw her again. Not until she walked in here today like a ghost straight out of memory locked away long ago. I had begun to wonder if she was even still alive.”

Will sat quietly, staring out the window. He could think of nothing to say that wouldn’t fall far short of the response that her tale deserved.

“Will?”

“Yeah, Magnus. What is it?”

“I’m done talking for now. I think I’d like to be alone.”

“Yeah, of course.” Will stepped into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind himself, leaving Magnus to her memories.

Helen Magnus stood on a parapet of the tower jutting from the Sanctuary roof, watching the dying sun set the skyline of Old City on fire. She snugged her shawl around her shoulders against the wind, her chocolate locks lifting off her shoulders in soft waves.

“I had a feeling I’d find you up here,” the melodic voice from behind her sent a warm shiver up her spine. How quickly feelings long buried could wash back over you as if it were just yesterday you had felt them in the first place. Rowan soundlessly stepped up beside her, “It’s beautiful. Cé nach bhfuil sé chomh hálainn leat. I can see why you picked this spot.”

They stood in silence, gazing out at the last breaths of the day falling across the city that Helen had made her home for the last ninety years.

“Why did you leave?” Helen watched the final rays of light shine across the peaks of the cityscape.

“I’m sorry, leannán, I swore a promise. It’s not important anyway. You had work to do, and by the looks of it, you’ve done it well. My path lay elsewhere. What matters to me is that we are together now. I’ve missed you.”

Helen turned to face her, the dying light setting diamonds to sparkle in her deep blue eyes. She smiled. “I am very glad to see you.” Rowan’s arms wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned her head against Rowan’s chest. The pair stood on the roof embraced that way as the full moon climbed high into the sky.

“Come,” Helen said once the orb had reached its zenith. “I think I’ve the perfect room for you.”

Rowan gently kissed the top of Helen’s head and stepped to the roof floor, offering her hand to Helen. She took it and, after stepping to the floor herself, they walked hand in hand back into Helen’s home.

Once back inside, they stopped at the first landing. At Rowan’s raised brows, Helen grinned and threw the door in front of them wide. It opened on a large square room ringed in oversized stained glass windows, though the ones to their left were doors leading to a small balcony overlooking the water, the tall ceiling all exposed rafters and stonework, gaslight sconces adorned the walls and a single gas chandelier hung from the central beam of the ceiling. Helen strode into the middle of the room where she turned circles with her arms held out from her sides, a playful smile making her mischievous eyes twinkle. “Well?”

“Déithe, it’s beautiful,” Rowan smiled, joining Helen in the middle of the gothic revival-esque room, turning a slow circle herself.

“It’s away from the rest of the rooms, so you’ll have plenty of privacy, it’s got views for days, we can make any changes or additions to it you’d like, I want you to feel at home here. There is one other, small benefit to this particular room’s location. I rarely sleep these days, not much anyway, and I spend much of my time on the tower roof at night. On occasion, one might happen to hear the sounds of a sleepless woman climbing the stairs outside their door and decide to mount the roof to offer the company of an old friend.” She quirked a conspiratorial smile.

“Well, in that case, I’d say it’s perfect. Thank you, Helen.”

“Welcome to the Sanctuary.”

#sanctuary #helen magnus #will zimmerman #fanfic #nsftumblr

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