#Elizabeth takes it one step further from ‘’has done nothing wrong ever in her life’’

[panhasapen]

Honestly I would protect Elizabeth with my life

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - Anchor

It’s time for another slice of the first draft of my fan novelization for Our Life: Beginnings and Always! For once, this is a direct continuation of a piece I’ve served up before. Last week we got the hurt portion of hurt/comfort in the moment Family with the snippet I called Adrift. Now it’s time for the comfort half with Cove and Jamie.

As always, thank you for enjoying my writing. Special thanks in particular for the game’s lovely creators @gb-patch for being so sweet and encouraging. You’re all wonderful and you bring me such happiness!

...

It was impossible for Jamie to tell how long she remained staring off into the far horizon, fighting to keep her head above water in the chaotic storm of thoughts she drowned in. She sat with her knees tucked against her chest, her cheek resting across her arms folded on top of them. The wind delicately blew her blue hair to the side, just strong enough to tease her bangs and end of her long braid.

A voice cut through the static screeching inside of her head. Someone was shouting, getting closer. Not even the presence of another person was enough to make Jamie move until she noticed that they were calling her name.

Upon that realization, she recognized the voice as well. She could never, ever mistake his voice for anyone else’s.

Jamie raised her head and turned quickly towards the shouts, her eyes wide. She quickly spotted a silhouette in the darkness where the sand gave way to grass. Even in the dim light, she instantly identified the figure.

Cove.

There was a moment where Cove stood breathless, his eyes fixed on Jamie sitting curled up where the sand met the waves, with the moonlight casting a shadow across her face when she turned towards him. The moment lasted only long enough for him to be sure it was her before he ran to her side.

Confusion and worry drew Jamie to her feet, clearer than anything else in her chaotic mind, and she fully turned to face Cove as he approached. “Cove,” she said, his name shaped with too many emotions to process. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

The question took Cove aback. “No!” He cringed a little at the intensity of his response and tried to calm his racing heart. “Not to me anyway. I wanted to know what happened to you.”

Jamie stared at Cove in confusion, her face blank. Her reaction only made him even more concerned, his grimace creasing into a deep frown.

“Mom told me you stopped by earlier,” he explained, his voice still a little frantic and breathless from his panicked search. “I went to your house to say hi, but your parents said you were gone, that you needed to get away.”

Jamie said nothing. She heard him clearly, yet failed to understand what about that alarmed him so much. She was fine.

It was her family who weren’t okay.

Cove only felt his worries grow the longer Jamie failed to respond or even show any emotion. Normally, she was so expressive that it was easy for him to tell how she was feeling, but now her face was a tense, blank mask that offered him nothing.

Nothing about all this was normal, and it was starting to get to Cove.

“I mean…,” he continued, pressing on despite the oppressive stillness of his best friend. “I had to think something was going on after something like that, so I came to find you.” His aquamarine eyes looked into hers - those normally captivating night blue eyes were so uncharacteristically dim, devoid of their usual sparkle and joy whenever they were together.

The look in Jamie’s eyes terrified Cove.

The silence stretched on, a heavy weight oppressing both of them. Finally, Jamie took a breath and wet her lips, tasting the salt in the air as she struggled to answer Cove’s concern, to reassure him and explain what had happened without making things worse for him.

“I…”

Even forcing out one word alone was a struggle for Jamie, but Cove was patient, willing to wait for her to speak. Her gaze dropped to the sand, unable to bear the worry in his eyes anymore as she fought for words. It was too loud inside her head, the static scraping away words she wanted to say with intrusive ones she never wanted to admit to anyone. There had been so much she had wanted to tell him earlier, but now there was too much.

Finally, Jamie managed to try again. “There’s a lot…” Her voice petered off, the words dissolving from her mind before more than a handful could leave her tight throat. She skewed her eyes shut. “Elizabeth… my parents…!”

She choked on the words, a hand moving up to cover her mouth as she tasted bile. The action urged Cove to take a step closer to her.

“Is everything okay?” Cove asked reflexively, even though the answer was obvious, as he placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

The touch was warm, solid. It was a stark contrast to how disconnected Jamie felt from the rest of the world. She closed her eyes and focused on Cove’s hand, his closeness, his concern.

Cove cared.

Cove always cared about her, what she thought, and what she felt. He never judged her, never pushed her. Ever since they met, he was always there, so kind and mindful of her. He was her anchor grounding her when the waters turned turbulent and threatened to wash her away.

Jamie placed her hand on top of Cove’s, drawing strength from him as she always did.

“Thank you,” she eventually managed to say, her shaky voice barely more than a whisper as she lowered her head. “Thank you for coming…” She lifted her gaze, but could only reach as far as his worried frown; she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Cove’s brow furrowed even more as he only grew increasingly concerned, not as much by the words themselves but by the way Jamie said them. She sounded so… broken.

Despite his mounting fears, he held himself back from voicing his worries further, wanting to give her the chance to continue on her own.

Jamie closed her eyes and took another breath, giving the hand on her shoulder a small squeeze. It was hard for her to speak, to know where to begin, but the fact that Cove was with her now made things a little easier somehow. With his help, she would figure out what to do about Elizabeth, her moms, and…

And just like that the feelings she had been holding back surged forth like a tsunami and overtook her.

“My parents are dead!”

Cove froze at the weakly delivered outburst as it sent a shock through him. He couldn’t move, except for his mouth which fell open, but he was unable to do anything further as he stared at Jamie.

That wasn’t what Jamie had been intending to say, not at all.

For a moment, Jamie stuttered, scrambling to recover mentally, knowing she had to clear up the confusion she had just caused. “M-my biological ones… from before my moms… before they adopted me.” The explanation started as a trickle that only grew stronger, more emotional with each word, like water pouring from a crack in a dam that was only growing wider as more spilled free. “They died when I was a baby. Moms didn’t say how. Maybe they don’t know. But there wasn’t any other family I could live with. So that… that’s why I… why I g-got a-ado-adopte-”

Cove had heard more than enough. He closed the distance between them, pulling Jamie into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” he murmured, his warm breath ghosting across her shoulder. The comforting words delivered with such gentleness pierced right through her.

The warmth was familiar and comforting. It felt so right to Jamie, yet she stood frozen as Cove enveloped her securely in his arms. They were so close that his voice rumbled through her pleasantly when he spoke, creating small tremors that ran through her. In another situation this would be heaven. But this wasn’t right. She wasn’t the one who needed to be comforted right now. It was her sister and moms who needed it far more than she did.

“You… you don’t ha-have to do this,” she said, barely managing to force the words out, her voice cracking at the edges.

Cove rested his head against Jamie’s, his cheek brushing against hers. He refused to let her go. “Yes I do.”

He sounded so sure, yet for some reason that fact made Jamie begin to shake. Finally she could move, her trembling hands reaching up - to draw him closer or push him away was unclear - but her fingers hooked into his shirt at his sides near his back, the hold on the fabric so tight her already pale knuckles turned white.

“I… I-I’m o-oka…”

The lie was too big for Jamie to finish forcing it from her throat. She choked on it, her voice catching and quaking until it turned into a wail of anguish that racked her body. All of her denials and barriers broke then, and she crushed her body into Cove’s until there wasn’t even room for air between them. The tears she didn’t know that she had been fighting all this time gushed forth without restraint, spilling onto her best friend’s skin as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

Cove held Jamie even tighter, as close as he could without hurting her, his eyes growing watery as well. Although they were of equal height, she felt so small in his arms just then. Her body shook almost violently against him from the force of her sobs, the sounds rending his heart in two.

Cove said nothing while Jamie cried, merely listening to the wails she made that almost formed words at times. It was painful to hear just how much she was hurting, but he didn’t falter. He would do nothing else but hold her until she was done bleeding out all of the poison tainting her heart.

It took time for the night to grow still again, save for the constant rhythm of the waves and the breathing of the two teens as they held each other on the shore. Eventually, however, the flood of tears slowed to a trickle, and then finally stopped when Jamie had no more left to shed. Her energy bled away along with much of the tension in her body, leaving her standing more by virtue of Cove holding her up than the strength of her own legs, her once firm grip limp, but still hanging on desperately.

When Cove noticed, he took great care to guide Jamie back down onto the sand. The position they sat in was close, with Jamie practically in Cove’s lap. Under normal circumstances, such intimate closeness would have left him a blushing mess fighting the urge to bolt like a frightened deer, but he didn’t even think about it now. The only thing he focused on was keeping her close to him.

Cove sat for a little while longer with Jamie cradled in his arms, until he was sure that she might be ready to talk. He didn’t release his grip on her, but shifted just a little, trying to catch a glimpse of her face to better see whatever expression she was wearing now without widening the distance between them.

Jamie looked exhausted, worn, but not as worryingly tense as before.

When Cove spoke again, it was delicate and deliberate. “Can you explain everything to me?”

For a moment, Jamie just breathed deep, the sound rough and hitching occasionally. Finally, she managed the strength to lift her head and face Cove. Her red-rimmed dark blue eyes met his, but only for a second before she had to look away. She nodded slowly before taking in a heavy breath and letting it out slow and shaky.

The actual event hadn’t actually been that long, but the telling took Jamie a while in stops and starts. Cove listened attentively, only nodding where appropriate or taking in a sharp inhale when words almost escaped him. He only spoke again when he was sure she was finished speaking, at least for now.

“Jamie,” Cove said, his voice trembling with heartache for his closest friend. He faltered, wanting so badly to say whatever it took to somehow make her feel better, but words alone felt inadequate. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your parents. So, so sorry…”

Jamie being adopted was something Cove learned early on after meeting her, but its importance never truly sank in for him. He never felt comfortable about prying into it, relating the loss of her original parents to losing his mom for a while due to the divorce, and the distance that had grown between them since.

Although things had gotten better for him, it would never get better between Jamie and her birth parents.

Cove tried to find the words to say more, but nothing came. He could only take in deep, shaky breaths as he struggled for something to tell her that might help heal her broken heart. It was frustrating. He hated feeling so helpless, especially when his best friend needed him.

Jamie barely acknowledged Cove beyond a slight nod of her head as she looked off at some point in the distance, not really seeing anything. She found more words to say before he could. “I had no idea it was so important to Elizabeth,” she said, her voice rough from all her crying. “She was so upset and angry even before our moms told her about her biological parents… and after they did she just…” She had to pause for a moment to take in a shaky breath before letting out slowly. “I mean… I thought about mine too, sometimes, but it’s not because I wanted to know who they were.”

Jamie made a vague motion with her hand before limply dropping it back onto Cove’s arm. “I sorta just figured either they wanted me or they didn’t, and if they didn’t, they weren’t worth thinking about. If they did…”

Closing her eyes, Jamie paused to take a deep shuddering breath before shaking her head. “I didn’t want to know if they did,” she confessed in a whisper, guilt dripping from every word. “I didn’t want to ask, but when Elizabeth did… when my moms asked me… how could I not?” Her eyes went to Cove, her expression almost desperate and only relaxing a little when she saw him nod in understanding.

“But I guess… they did want me,” Jamie said haltingly, the words coming out weak and fragile as she closed her eyes. “There were people who… l-loved me. And I can’t love them back. Ever. I can never love them like they probably loved me because they died, and I can’t remember anything about them. They’re strangers. They’ll always be strangers to me, even if they did have me. I’ll never get to know them and love them like my moms or Elizabeth or Lee and… and… and I just wish they didn’t and that they just threw me away and abandoned me because they didn’t want me like I always told myself they did so I wouldn’t feel guilty about not caring about them and being happy without them! Isn’t that awful?!”

It was hard for Cove to keep silent. He bit into the inside of his cheek to fight the urge to speak before Jamie was done unburdening herself. He only moved to gently pry her fingers from her braid as she started yanking on it at some point during her rant. It was only when she stopped, panting as though she had just been running, her dark blue eyes wild and desperate and looking right through him, that he spoke again.

“Jamie,” Cove said, drawing her attention back to him and away from that dark pit inside herself. His voice cracked as he struggled to keep himself together; he needed to be strong, for Jamie’s sake. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You know that, right?”

The emotions playing across Jamie’s face were too complex for Cove to understand, but he suspected that they were also too much for her to truly understand them either.

Cove took great care in choosing his words, which made them come out slower than usual, almost stilted. “I think you can be as sad as you want, for as long as you need. Or you can feel about it whenever you want, too. It’s okay for you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

It was a struggle for him, as his words felt woefully inadequate in the face of such dark thoughts as the ones Jamie laid bare before him. He was completely out of his depth here. Even comparing her situation with her birth parents to his own parents didn’t help him really relate; it just made him shudder at the idea of how he would react if one or both of them died.

Adding on the complicated feelings of never knowing them or loving them like he did was just…

Cove had to take a moment to breathe, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair and let his gaze drift to the ocean. The sight of it was soothing, which he desperately needed right now.

With another sigh, Cove shifted his gaze back to Jamie, meeting her intense stare with a look of sympathy and reassurance. He at least took solace in the fact that she was looking at him now and not lost inside her own head again. Even if he couldn’t really relate to what she was going through, that didn’t stop him from empathizing with the obvious guilt she held towards her own complicated feelings, or understanding how easy it was for dark thoughts to spiral out of control.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…,” Cove continued at last. “Whatever you feel about it is how you feel about it, and that’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself to be different.” He managed a faint smile, as he recalled what Jamie told him at the beginning of summer when he confided in her about his complicated feelings about his mother coming to stay. “There’s nothing wrong with how you’re feeling about all this. It doesn’t make you a bad person. No one would ever think badly about you for feeling this way about something like this.”

He sounded so sure, Jamie couldn’t help but believe him. It was strange how Cove had the power to do that, to be able to hold such pure faith in her that there was no room left for doubt. It was effortless for him to slip past her barriers, denials, and twisted up confusing feelings to reach her heart directly, always with a touch so delicate it wouldn’t disturb foam on the water.

Bit by bit, Jamie felt the knot in her chest loosen, and she found herself relaxing against Cove as she let his heartfelt words settle in. Instead of the static of broken thoughts, she listened to the familiar rhythm of waves meeting the shore, and the slow, steady breaths of her best friend by her ear. Her eyes drifted closed and took a moment to simply breathe.

Finally, Jamie started to see things in a new light.

When Jamie opened her eyes again, she was quickly lost in Cove’s aquamarine eyes that somehow seemed to glow in the moonlight as they focused only on her. The way the moon made his eyes shine so bright despite the darkness of night was one of the first things she noticed about him on the night they met. Although those enchanting eyes held sadness like they did that night, they were also overflowing with affection for her.

Cove always saw her so clearly, all of her, both the good and the bad. He could see her like no one else.

Although Jamie thought she had cried out all her tears before, a couple more beaded up in her eyes before slowly trickling down her face. Despite their presence, she managed a weak but genuine smile. Somehow, Cove always found a way to give her exactly what she needed the most. “Thank you, Cove.”

The tension wrapped around Cove eased a little as well, as he watched the light slowly return to Jamie’s eyes, and he returned her delicate smile with a comforting one of his own.

“You know,” he continued carefully, “Elizabeth and I haven't ever been super close, but… I don’t think she’d want her family to break up, or drift apart.” He paused for a moment to offer a weak attempt at a wry smile. “Even if she complains about it sometimes.”

Jamie let out a breath that was almost a laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards a little higher, and Cove took that as a victory.

His expression softened as he continued. “And your moms definitely don’t. It doesn’t matter if you’re not blood related, you’re definitely family.” He reached up to gently brush away the stray tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “I can see that… and I hope you can too.”

Jamie leaned into the touch, her eyelids dipping, but she didn’t want to stop looking into Cove’s ocean blue eyes. They were so bright and clear, able to see her with such sincerity. She could feel his reassurance in the way he looked at her, the certainty he held that despite everything she was going through, she and her family were going to be okay.

As his tender words and caring heart wrapped around her like a warm blanket, Jamie felt herself growing a little more certain as well. Cove was right - she didn’t have to apologize for how she felt, or even make excuses for it.

She didn’t have to deny how she felt either, not even to herself.

As the pain slowly receded like the tide, Jamie felt her almost overwhelming affection for Cove flow in to take its place. Mere words couldn’t express how grateful she was that he was here to support her, that despite seeing what she believed was such an ugly part of her, he accepted it and helped her see that it wasn’t as terrible as she convinced herself it was.

More than anything else in this world, Jamie knew that she could count on Cove to be there when she needed him.

Jamie no longer felt the need to hold herself back from fully accepting the comfort Cove offered her. She snuggled in closer, drawing her arms around his torso as she nuzzled her cheek against his. Being close to him, touching him, hugging him - it was always a soothing balm no matter how easily he could send her heart fluttering out of control. There was nothing more right in this world than being in his arms.

Although Cove started to become aware of their intimate position, it was a mercifully distant concern when compared to everything else that merely quickened his pulse. Not even his nervous crush on her could compare to the relief he felt knowing that his best friend was finally starting to feel better. He returned her affectionate gesture, brushing his cheek against hers, feeling her soft warmth and breathing in the faint smell of ocean and flowers that was distinctly Jamie. Despite how anxious he felt at times being so close to her, he couldn’t help but feel content holding her like this.

The two remained like that a while longer, neither inclined to separate now that the silence between them had softened into something comforting and familiar. For a while they simply sat together on the sand, idly watching the ocean as it reflected countless stars and the moon above.

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 34: Forever

Chapter 33

Read on AO3

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: This fic is on a very long hiatus until further notice. Please see the AO3 link for more details. Much love❤️

It was June third, the day after their eleven month anniversary. Claire couldn’t believe it; it was truly almost an entire year since that fateful Saturday at the stables. A year since their hearts and bodies had spoken what their voices dared not say.

He took her down port again, to a restaurant even more extravagant than the one they’d gone to the last time they were there. It was a glorious Saturday night, and Claire was blissfully happy.

Though something seemed off with Jamie.

His hand had done that tapping that he did when he was anxious the entire drive over, and it was his left, always his left, so she could not reach out and take it to soothe him.

“Why, you’re as nervous as you were on our first date,” she’d teased.

“Aye, well.” He’d forced a chuckle, winking at her. “It’s no’ every day ye celebrate nearly a year wi’ the woman ye love.”

She’d laughed, too, not really considering what an odd thing that was to say.

She also hadn’t considered how strange it was to go so all-out when it wasn’t actually a full year yet. She could truly only imagine how extravagant those plans would be.

And anyway…what was there to be nervous about? There wasn’t a single thing they hadn’t shared, a single thing they didn’t know about each other now. Holding his hand as they left the parking meter, strolling down the sidewalk to their reservation, his palm was as sweaty as it had been the night they’d first slept together.

Had he never eaten at this restaurant? Was he worried she wouldn’t like it?

Watching his hand jiggle at his side at a constant loop at the table, Claire put her menu down.

“Jamie. You’re shaking the whole table.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.” He stiffened, reigning himself in. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said gently. “I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’re never so out of it when we go out.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, and she almost believed him. “I’m alright.”

“You’re about to cause an earthquake with that nervous tick of yours and you expect me to believe you’re alright?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish grin, and for just a second she caught a glimpse of Jamie again, not the anxious mess she was at dinner with.

“Is something happening with your family? And you don’t want to ruin the evening by bringing it up now? Because I don’t give a damn about the evening. We can leave right now—”

“No.”

Claire jumped a little, wincing at how tightly he squeezed her hand.

“Sorry,” he stammered.  “I’m mucking this all up.”

“Mucking what up?”

He sighed. “Nothing is wrong wi’ my family. Nothing at all is wrong. Everything is…perfect. My life hasna been this right since I was a bairn.”

Claire allowed a tiny smile, her eyes glimmering. “Okay,” she said softly, urging him to continue.

“That’s what has me feeling this way, I suppose. You are perfect. Our life is perfect. I suppose this big anniversary is just…I dinna ken. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Jamie…” Claire shook her head. “There is no other shoe. I’m not going anywhere. Faith is not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us, darling.”

He sighed in relief, and Claire could not comprehend that he would ever think otherwise to the point where he would feel such relief.

“Even when I’m shaking tables and sweating through shirts?”

She giggled. “Yes. Even then.”

He kissed her hand. “Good.”

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch, though there was still something underlying buzzing through Jamie. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and reassure him the only way she knew how. If he kept this up, she might not be able to wait until they got home. She’d have to find a long, empty dock and drag him to the edge and kiss him senseless anywhere he wanted. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, and she wouldn’t rest until she could see that he was absolutely sure that she was his and his alone.

Forever.

They went to their usual ice cream place, and as they swapped cups and tasted each other’s, Jamie seemed to relax a little bit more, laughing, savoring the flavor like a little boy. That was one of the things she loved most about him. He took nothing for granted, not even the difference between his moose tracks ice cream and Claire’s mint chocolate chip, not even the pigeons and seagulls that watched them out of the corner of their eye the closer they got to the beach.

“I’ll unleash all my unholy power if they so much as peck this ice cream,” Claire said, eyeing a particularly nasty looking little bastard.

“Dinna fash, my lass,” Jamie said gallantly, raising his spoon like Excalibur. “No harm shall befall ye, or yer precious frozen treat. No’ so long as I’m wi’ ye.”

“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him, then craned her neck and puckered her lips, and he obliged her, kissing her soundly.

The farther along the beach they wandered, the less and less people they encountered, and Claire began scouting locations where they could tuck themselves away for even a few moments of privacy. She certainly couldn’t fully have him here, but a few sloppy kisses and heavy touches would do the trick. Her eyes flicked to a dock with a boat on the end, no people to be found on it. She gave him a mischievous look and began tugging him toward it.

“I ken that look well enough,” Jamie said, matching her mischief. “And I’ll no’ be giving in to ye.”

She stuck out her lip in her most convincing pout. “Why ever not?”

“I dinna trust ye no’ to get us arrested for public indecency. No’ with that gleam in yer eye.”

“I’ll be good! I promise.” She stopped tugging so she could press herself flush against him, arching her back just enough that her breasts were the first thing that came in contact with him. “Come on, love…I promise I’ll behave.”

She fully expected him to grab her hips, press his hardness into her with a growl, and accept defeat.

But instead, he just grinned. Not even a smirk, a full-faced grin.

“If ye can catch me, ye can have yer way wi’ me.”

“What—?”

And then before she could blink, Jamie was running, sprinting away from her, kicking up sand in his wake.

“You bastard!”

She hiked up her skirts and chased after him as fast as her bare feet could carry her in the sand. She lost track of how long she spent going after him, but he was not relenting, not letting her catch up. They were both laughing their heads off, whooping, Claire calling after him until her voice was hoarse. He finally stopped, appearing to not be exhausted in the slightest, and she slowed herself to a jog, chest heaving and burning.

“You absolute maniac,” she panted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She was laughing as she said it, and he laughed with her, reaching out his hand and taking it when she caught up. He kissed her hand.

“My legs feel like jell-o. You’d better be planning on carrying me back.”

“Aye, of course,” he said automatically. “But I want to show ye something first.”

She cocked a brow skeptically.

“Come on.”

He tugged on her hand, and out of sheer exhaustion, she allowed him to lead the way. They were walking right to a dock, and before Claire could exasperatedly complain that she’d been trying to do the same thing before he started that marathon, she realized.

There were candles lining every step of the boardwalk, a string of lights wrapped around each wooden post along the way. Across the top was a zigzag of more lights, held in place by thin metal poles attached to the wooden posts. She hadn’t seen it, even as she was running right toward it. She’d had her eyes locked on Jamie’s bright red hair all the while, desperate to catch up to him.

“What…what is all this…?” She was still out of breath, and on top of it her breath was gone for an entirely different reason.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand laced with hers and continued walking her down to the end of the pier.

“This is beautiful…is this always here…? I don’t understand…”

A familiar humming noise took her out of her dumbstruck admiration of the twinkling beauty, and she whipped her head around. “Jamie…what…?” Squinting, Claire could make out two figures at the opposite end of the pier, and a bouncing little thing in front of them.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt him take her other hand. She turned her head to question him, but was stunned into silence by the look on his face.

He was radiant.

The string of lights painted glowing streaks in his hair and twinkled in his eyes. And God, his eyes…they were bigger than she’d ever seen; she may very well have drowned in them if he didn’t start speaking.

“Claire, I…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. The hand that was grasping hers was trembling.

“Jamie…?”

“You are…the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met,” he continued, holding her gaze and squeezing her hand tighter. “The first time I saw ye I was…blown away by how big yer heart was. The way ye looked at Faith, the way she smiled at ye…I knew. I knew ye were special. And I didna realize at the time, but ye’d already crawled into this hole in my heart that was made for you. Both of you.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with tears, and it very suddenly hit her exactly what was happening.

“I know the pain ye’ve seen, mo ghraidh, I know the fear and doubt that plagues ye. But I…” He cleared his throat again, and then lowered himself to the ground, on one knee.

A single tear escaped Claire’s eye, trickling down as her breath hitched in her throat.

“I will never, never stop trying to be worthy of ye, Claire. I swear to ye on my life that I will be a good husband, and…a good father. You deserve to be loved beyond measure. And I…I do, mo sorcha. I love you wi’ every ounce of my being.”

Claire was fully sobbing now, and his thumb rubbed over her knuckles as his other hand reached into his pocket.

“So will you, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, make me the luckiest man in the world?” He opened the box, revealing the beautiful sparkling ring within. “Will ye marry me, Sassenach?”

Claire could not speak. She nodded vigorously, more ridiculous sobs sputtering from her. Jamie’s strained, concentrated face erupted into the most glorious smile she had ever seen. He leapt to his feet and Claire threw her arms around his neck, and he encircled her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. He exclaimed loudly in Gaelic, laughing joyously, and Claire sputtered her own laughter in between sobs.

He finally put her down, and Claire seized his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back passionately. When they pulled apart, Jamie was holding the ring, a small but beautiful rock set within it, and she allowed him to slip it on.

“Oh, love…” she croaked out, and he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed the ring.

Something suddenly collided with Claire’s legs, and she cried out a bit in shock. Jamie laughed again as Claire turned around and looked down to see Faith clinging to her legs. Looking up, she could now see that the figures in the distance were Gail and Joe.

“You…” She turned back to Jamie. “You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

Jamie just beamed at her, his eyes glistening with tears. Claire let out a joyous laugh and sank to her knees in front of Faith.

“Hello, lovie….” She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight, rocking her gently. “Oh, look at you…” Claire pulled back so she could see Faith, dressed in a beautiful little dress, blue and purple and frilly, white stockings and her perfect little white shoes. When she’d left her with Leina, she was still in her pajamas from the night before, and the plan had seemingly been to leave it that way.

“Look at us, hm?” Claire said, sniffling as she stroked Faith’s hair. “All dressed up? Mummy is going to be married, darling.” Claire’s voice broke, and she laughed through more tears. “See, Faith?” She held up her hand, and Faith immediately began fiddling with the rock. “This means I’m going to be a bride, baby.”

God…I can’t believe it.

A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she looked behind her to see that Jamie had crouched down beside her.

“I’ve, ehm, got something for her, too,” he said, his nervousness returning.

Claire’s heart felt fit to burst as her eyes landed on the pink velvet box in his hand.

“With yer permission, Claire…” Jamie took a deep, stuttering breath. “I’d like to ask yer daughter to let me be her father.”

Claire’s chin quivered again, her eyes immediately welling up. She nodded, swallowing thickly, and then fervently kissed Jamie’s cheek before standing up to allow him to proceed.

——

Jamie took a steadying breath before straightening himself out, getting up on his knee the way he’d just done before Claire.

“Hello, wean,” he said. She was fiddling with her skirt and twirling it back and forth, staring intently at its sparkles.

“Faith, a leannan, can ye look at my eyes?” He gently poked her chin with his finger, and she looked up, only to become enraptured by the string of lights above her head.

“D’ye like the lights, Faith?” Jamie flicked her chin with his middle finger, signing light. She giggled and snatched his hand in both of hers. “Ah, ye got me,” he teased, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them. “I like the lights too, ye ken. Reminds me of our special day in our fairy den. D’ye remember?” She hummed a bit, freeing one of her hands from his grip to flap it, saying fairy

“Aye, that’s right. Very good, Faith.” He took her hand again in hopes of keeping her attention. “I had lots of fun that day, Faith. In fact, I have lots of fun whenever I’m with ye. Because ye’re a very special lass. D’ye ken that?”

She started fiddling with the wee hairs on his hands, giggling to herself.

“I asked yer Mummy a very important question, Faith. I asked her if she wanted to be my wife. And I gave her a special present to celebrate, a very pretty ring. D’ye like the ring?” She nodded absently, still twirling the little hairs. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because I’ve got a special present fer you, too.”

That got her attention. She whipped her head up and looked at him, humming and then opening her mouth with an excited groan. Jamie chuckled softly and held the box up to her. She stroked the velvet box with her hands before pressing her cheek into it, likely enjoying its softness.

“Lovely box, is it no’?” he teased, and then gently lifted her chin to pick her head up off the box. “Let’s look inside, aye?”

Before Faith could snatch the box again or get upset, he popped it open.

“See what I’ve got for ye? Look.” He let Faith take it in her hands. “It’s a crown, see? And look what it says. F-A-I-T-H.” He signed each letter to her as he said it. “Faith. That’s yer name, aye?” She hummed, biting her lip with her smile. “Princess Faith, it says.

“D’ye ken that I love ye, Faith?” His voice got tight, his eyes welling up. “I think I fell in love wi’ you just as quickly as I did yer mam.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. He kept his hand there, cupping her cheek, as he signed I love you with his free hand. “See, a leannan? I love you.”

Faith gave a high pitched, squealing giggle, bouncing as she returned the sign. Jamie uttered a breathy laugh, a single tear trickling down his cheek. He heard a tiny sob from above him, and wasn’t surprised to feel Claire’s hand grasp his shoulder.

“Good girl, Faith,” Jamie whispered, rubbing a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “It makes me verra happy that ye love me, too.” He signed happy, smiling widely. “Are ye happy, Faith?” She hummed, jiggling her hands and nodding. “Good, good lass.” He sniffled, blinking away more tears, reaching to his own shoulder to cover Claire’s hand in his.

“I promise to always love ye, and protect ye, and do right by ye, just as I will yer mam.” He gave Claire’s hand a squeeze. “Will ye be my wee princess, Faith?” He poked a finger at the necklace, his fingertip cooling at the touch of the metal. “Will ye let me be yer Da?” He spread his fingers, poking his thumb to his forehead.

Faith hummed and jiggled a bit, but Jamie held the sign patiently. After a few seconds, she giggled, and then copied him exactly, thumb on forehead. Fingers splayed.

Da.

Jamie laughed out loud, fit to burst with joy. He released Claire’s hand to wrap his arms around his wee girl, and Joe and Gail broke into applause. He felt Claire fall to her knees beside him, and his heart cracked open to hear her openly weeping. He folded her into his embrace as well, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, fisting his jacket in one hand, caressing Faith’s curls in the other.

“Oh, Jamie…” she blubbered against his skin. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, mo chridhe. Wi’ my whole heart.”

When the three of them finally released each other from their embrace, Jamie freed the necklace from the box and fastened it around Faith’s neck. She rubbed it between her fingers, pulled it up and rubbed it on her cheek, and jiggled it in her hands.

“It’s beautiful, Jamie,” Claire breathed against his neck.

“D’ye think she likes it?”

“She does.”

“D’ye think she…understands?”

They looked at Faith for a moment, grinning from ear to ear as she fiddled with her necklace.

“I think she does.” Claire pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. “If nothing else, she knows that you love her, Jamie.” Claire met his eye and held up the sign, trembling lips curling into a smile. He repeated the sign, touching their fingers together as he’d often seen mother and daughter do, and their foreheads rested together. “And she loves you, too. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean.”

A tear slipped from Jamie’s eye and trickled down Claire’s nose, and they kissed one another sweetly, I love you’s still pressed together.

Gail and Joe suddenly got closer, calling Faith over to them. Jamie broke into a wide grin, watching from the corner of his eye; the last part of the plan was nearly complete.

“Go on, baby,” Gail said. “Go put them on, just like we practiced.”

Faith scampered back to them, bounding and skipping and squealing with glee. Jamie exchanged a look with Claire, who seemed utterly bewildered, and who somehow looked completely and utterly beautiful, even red and swollen from tears of joy.

Jamie ducked his head and allowed Faith to clumsily place the hat atop his head, and then watched as she plopped the one with the bow on Claire. Faith squealed again and jumped up and down, clapping her hands in triumph and then flapping relentlessly.

“What on Earth…?” Claire turned to look at Jamie, and then burst into laughter.

Faith had put Mickey Mouse ears on them both — well, Minnie Mouse for Claire if you accounted for the red bow.

“D’ye no’ find me rather dashing?” he teased, and Claire laughed all the harder. “Here. Look.”

Jamie removed the hat, and Claire did the same, then Jamie held them side by side. Claire exhaled with a breathy laugh, leaning her cheek into Jamie’s shoulder as she read the words that Jamie had had embroidered onto the backs, his and hers respectively:

I asked

I said yes!

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

L O V E B O U N D

“Christmasbound IV”

Taylor opens her eyes, just once, then closes them immediately. The entire room is spinning again. Her eyes are glued together, her vision blurry. She should’ve taken an Advil before bed. She should’ve prevented this. With a loud groan, she turns around in bed, the blanket only covering one half of her body. She swallows once, can obviously feel how dry her throat is. Taylor wants to move, wants to get up and tell herself that this is a new day, a new beginning, a new chance. All of these positive affirmations that she’s been growing up with. But today, she can’t. Maybe it was the late night whiskey while being all alone that was a bad idea. Maybe it was taking step closer to Joe and his family, which truly has been a bad idea after all. 

Taylor takes another deep breath, holds her hand. She’s tired. Emotionally even more than physically. She slowly sits up. A stinging pain in her head keeping her from moving further. She looks to the side, could’ve sworn that she ensured to have a water bottle next to her bed. But the only thing she finds on the nightstand next to her is the whiskey glass. Almost empty. Disgusted at herself, Taylor moves her legs to dangle down the left side of the bed. She just sits upright, feels how dizzy she still is. When she was twenty- three and the world was against her, Taylor would always feel a sense of direction deep within her. As bad as it was, and as destructive as her dealing mechanisms may have been - she always knew this was just a phase. Just a bad month, a bad occurrence. A bad relationship. But now, at age 32, she doesn’t feel a sense of direction anymore. Even more so, she feels like she’s been on the right path. For a long time. Until she decided to leave it. Decided to go so incredibly wrong. All of that, while being a mother. Taylor swallows, stands up on the soft carpet on her bedroom floor. Barefoot and with nothing but her oversized sleeping shirt, Taylor makes her way down the stairs. Her eyes immediately fall onto the big window fronts. With swollen eyes and dried mascara on her cheek, she can’t help but smile tiredly. The world is white. Taylor can already see Eleanor before her eyes, having woken up hours ago and excitedly jumping around the Christmas tree. She’s happy it has snowed. She’s happy Eleanor is with Joe and his family. Where there’s more happiness. Where she can make these happy childhood Christmas memories that Taylor always wanted for her little girl. Even before she was born. 

Taylor reaches for the blue coffee mug on the top shelf in the kitchen. She quickly turns on the coffee machine and waits silently for the warm brew to enter her cup. Maybe, just maybe, Eleanor is happier staying with Joe and Naomi, and Elizabeth and Richard. Not with her, right now, on this day. She doesn’t know how to be a mother when deep inside, she’s the lost teenage girl again. She’s never gone through this scenario when becoming a mother. She’s never been prepared that something might hit her that would absolutely numb her from being Eleanor’s mommy. From putting on a fake smile, just to be there for Eleanor. Taylor swallows the hot beverage, knows even without looking into the mirror how horrible she looks. Her shoulder long hair curly and in all directions, mascara under her eyes, bangs all messed up. She slowly grabs her phone, tabs two times to open the chat with Joe. She stares at their last exchanged messages for a few seconds. And she swallows again. 

I can’t wait to have you two here, see you soon. 

How ironic, that she actually felt like he had other reasons to invite her over. Other reasons than to finally move on from her. 

Hey, Merry Christmas. I woke up not feeling great and don’t want to risk anything, so I think I’ll be staying home today. I’ll call later to speak to E. Merry Christmas to your family, give E a kiss from me. 

Taylor drops her phone on the marble counter, doesn’t even care if the fall was a bit too harsh. She then grabs her coffee mug and wanders up the stairs again. This time though, she doesn’t go back to her messed up bed and the empty whiskey glass that is waiting for her like a cloud of guilt, in the middle of her house. Instead, she walks straight to the piano room. With bare legs, she slowly sits down on the little chair right in front of the massive piano. For a second, she just sits there, then lifts the piano lid slowly. She doesn’t even move, just takes a last sip of her coffee before placing the mug right on top of the piano. Her fingers slowly brush each key, low undefined sounds coming from the instrument. She’s never been good at life. But this was all she’s had. All she could really get right. All she will ever understand. 

Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? 

Taylor begins to follow this voice inside of her. Without thinking too much, she lets her hands do the work. Wanders from key to key, until there’s a melody that speaks for her.

 ____________________

“Mommy, I also got the new tonniebox that I wanted. And daddy and me also read me the note that Santa left for me. Santa wrote a note, just for me!” the little girl babbles into her mother’s ears. Taylor, who’s still just in her PJs, sits on the sofa now. Coffee number three in her hands, her hair still as messed up as before. She laughs quietly on the phone, can see her daughter’s excited little face in front of her eyes. “Of course he did. You’re such a good person, and you know that Santa always has an eye on that. And he’s so proud of you, same as me.” Taylor says, consciously didn’t tell her that she’s been a ‘good girl’, this year. She’s learned the difference between society telling you you’re a ‘good girl’ and actually being a good person. There’s worlds between these two things. Taylor can hear the background noises, Elizabeth probably rushing to prepare breakfast for everyone. Just when Eleanor was done telling Taylor about her presents, she can hear Joe in the background. Asking her if ‘mummy’s still on the phone’. Taylor swallows. It takes less than five seconds and she can hear Joe’s voice. He sounds careful, almost worried, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Her text this morning was probably too obvious. He knows her too well, probably can tell already that she’s been to overwhelmed by last night. Too overwhelmed meeting Naomi. Too overwhelmed seeing Joe with another woman. For the first time in a decade. For the first time ever. 

He asks her if she’s feeling better, if she can make it to join them for lunch. How important it would be for Eleanor to have her mum there. Taylor feels sick, just hearing his voice again. Maybe it’s the coffee on her empty stomach, or it’s the warmth in his deep voice, that has captured her from the first time he opened his mouth, ages ago, through all the noise, on a warm LA summer night. 

“I don’t know if it’s safe for me to come over, especially with covid and.. I do feel a scratch in my throat. So I think it’s better if…”

“We all got tested yesterday. It’s impossible that…”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I feel like crap,” she says, hoping he would finally stop. Taylor hears his silence on the end of the phone line. He knows. She knows that he knows. 

“Of course, I’m sorry for pressuring you. It’s just… it’s Christmas Day and…”

“No, no. You’re not pressuring me.” She then says, still feels sad whenever he does. She needs to stop doing this. Needs to stop subconsciously mirroring him. Caring so much and so deeply about his happiness that she adjusts whenever he’s feeling some type of way. Suddenly, Taylor can hear Eleanor in the background. She is asking about mommy. Asking when mommy is coming over. Taylor feels this pressure on her chest again. Is she abandoning her daughter right now? Because she can’t get over her own feelings? 

“Eleanor wants to.. wants to speak to you again.” He says then and Taylor can hear him handing over the phone. It takes one whiny “mommy” and Taylor knows she needs to get up, get freshened up, get over herself. She’s not twenty- three anymore. She can’t just care solely for herself anymore. She can’t just stay right here. 

____________________

With a bad tummy ache, Taylor stares out of the window, watching all the naked trees in the dim light. 

You left me no choice but to stay here forever. 

For whatever reason, these lyrics are stuck in her head and she knows that she needs to write them down tonight. Just when the car stops, Taylor feels a rush of nausea overcome her. She unbuckles her seatbelt and nods at her driver. She thanks him underneath her mask, swallows hard as she sees the family home just meters away from her, behind the glass of the car where she’s still sitting in the backseat. She feels unable to move, but does it anyways. After a few seconds, she’s left the car, wearing black jeans and boots and nothing but a plaid blouse underneath her coat. She slowly takes off the mask, remains there in front of the house. She’s doing this for Eleanor. She’s doing this because she’s got a responsibility. Because she’s an adult now. Taylor slowly takes a few steps up to the entry through the thin layer of snow on the ground, can already smell Elizabeth’s cherry pie through the open window that leads right to the hallway. Taylor knows she looks better than a few hours ago. Her hair and face clean. Mascara where it’s supposed to be. Blush on her lips and cheeks. Almost as if nothing had happened to her. Nothing at all. With a slight nauseous feeling, Taylor was about to ring the doorbell but stopped in the last second, as the big door opened by itself already. A bit surprised and startled, Taylor looks at Elizabeth. And the fifty- year old woman looks back at her. It’s this uncomfortable and insecure silence between them for a few seconds. But even before Taylor can say anything, Elizabeth’s face changes into a warm smile. A relief that has run through Taylor’s veins immediately. 

“Oh hi there, I knew I heard a car pull up.” 

Taylor nods, was just about to answer as Elizabeth already pulls her inside the house and inside her arms. This is still new to her. This is still overwhelming. Taylor closes her eyes and feels Elizabeth’s hands on her back, stroking her back up and down. She immediately feels tears building up, swallows them down in the last second, just when the brown haired woman pulls back and smiles at her. 

“Are you feeling better?” She asks, a well- knowing look on her face, as she already takes Taylor’s coat from her. Taylor, who feels welcomed but trapped at the same time, just nods quietly. She doesn’t really want to talk about it. 

“Yeah I felt a bit off this morning.” she mumbles. Elizabeth places a hand on her back as soon as she’s put the coat away and walks with Taylor into the kitchen. Like a wildcat in fight mode, Taylor hectically looks through the living room but nobody’s there. That’s not quite what she expected to find. 

“Where..”

“Oh they’re all upstairs on the attic looking through Joe’s old theatre costumes.” Elizabeth laughs, begins to stir the sauce she’s preparing on the stove. Taylor just nods, doesn’t really know how to act or move. She just takes a deep breath standing there. An old Christmas CD from the 90s is playing. The lights on the Christmas tree are lid. The cooker hood making dump noises. Elizabeth looks up at Taylor again, can see her awkwardly standing there, leaning against the counter next to her. 

“We’re very happy to have you here, you know.” She says then and Taylor feels how she blushes. She never thought Elizabeth would ever say something like this to her ever again. Not after she and Eleanor left her son. Not after the last Christmas. 

“I’m happy to be here as well.” Taylor then answers and Elizabeth steals her another look, then giggles quietly. 

“Are you really?” 

Taylor feels like she’s freezing for a while. She doesn’t know what to do with this answer. 

“Of course, I.. I’m so thankful we’re speaking again and..”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” She says and Taylor knows what she knows. It must be written all over her face. A face that says ‘he’s moved on, I haven’t’. Taylor doesn’t say anything, as Elizabeth turns down the temperature of the stove and turns around at her. 

“We should go for a walk soon. Catch up a bit.” 

Taylor immediately smiles and nods a few times. Even if she feels like hell is loose, this offer definitely made her smile a bit more. It took exactly seven seconds to pass, as multiple steps come down the stairs and Eleanor screams excitedly, let’s go off her grandfather’s hand to run towards her mom. 

“Mommy!” She screams and Taylor laughs for the first time really today, lifts up the small girl and holds her on her hip smiling. “Monkey, hello.” Taylor smiles, Eleanor and her automatically leaning in for a kiss on the lips which is followed by Taylor stealing her cheek another kiss. Just as she wished Eleanor another merry Christmas, is when she notices Naomi’s warm smile facing them. Within a matter of seconds, Taylor feels irritated again, holds onto the little girl on her arm as if she’s holding onto her life. 

“Oh darling, are you so happy your mummy’s joined too?” Elizabeth strokes over Eleanor’s curls after having watched the scene between Eleanor and Taylor with a smile. She knows that after all, Taylor’s an incredible mother. A quality that she knew she’s got from the very first day they met. Right in this house. A decade ago. “Yes.” Eleanor mumbles into Taylor’s neck and they all laugh quietly. Just in that second, Joe also joins the family kitchen and smiles warmly at Taylor. He’s glad she’s made it. 

“Someone’s glad her mum’s here, huh?” he then laughs at his daughter. Taylor was about to answer him, but his hand that casually lands on Naomi’s shoulder keeps her from opening her mouth.“Ellie, are you so happy you can show mummy your presents now?” the petite woman says, looking at Eleanor who’s still on Taylor’s arm. Ellie. Just in that moment, Eleanor turns her head grumpily, and goes “My name is Eleanor”. Taylor tries her hardest not to smile, but her mini- me seems to have hit the nail in the head here. Joe immediately laughs, both hands on Naomi’s shoulders now. “Darling, why don’t you show your mum what Santa Claus left under the tree this morning for her?” He says with a grin, obviously wanted to change topics to make sure that the awkward mood in the room diminishes. In that second, Eleanor moves on Taylor’s arm quickly and signals her that she wants to get down. 

Together with Eleanor, Taylor now walks into the living room, knees down in front of Eleanor’s presents. 

“Look, this one’s from Santa for mummy.” She says with a bright smile and Taylor decides to sit down on the carpet while opening her present. 

“Mhm what could that be?” She says, swallows hard as she finally takes a good look at what’s in her hands. A colored polaroid of Joe and Eleanor, smiling into the camera is placed in the middle of the green card. Surrounded by little Christmas stickers and drawn Christmas trees with glitter hearts on them, both Eleanor and Joe have their heads stuck together, smiling the purest smiles into the camera. She can see Joe’s arm holding the camera. Of course she’s had some help with this present. Right underneath the picture, Eleanor has placed a smiling heart sticker and wrote “from Eleanor and daddy” in her messy handwriting, just the way a first grader would do. Taylor looks at the card, tears forming in her eyes. She doesn’t want to get emotional now. Doesn’t want to get emotional here in this room. But the two humans, who are so innocently smiling in this picture, still mean the world to her. 

“I love it so much.” She says then quietly, hopes that no one else has seen her get teary. Eleanor looks confused at her mum, but Taylor just laughs, wipes away the tears on her cheeks and immediately hugs her. “This is so beautiful that I got super emotional, honey.” She laughs, soothing Eleanor a bit. And the little girl nods, seems to accept Taylor’s answer. 

“I made the card, but Santa wrapped it up and put it under the tree.” 

Taylor laughs and nods before getting up. Especially, because to Eleanor - it actually makes a lot of sense.

“That’s so nice of him. I’m so happy Santa brought me this beautiful card.” She says, takes Eleanor’s hand before joining the others around the table. 

____________________

It’s been an hour now since Taylor consciously made the decision to have a conversation with the left side of the big table - Patrick and his girlfriend Jess. It’s been so wonderful reconnecting with him, hearing about his plans for after his masters degree. Hearing Jess talk about how they met, their struggles to find an affordable flat in northwest London and how excited they are to drive up to Denmark together once this coronavirus situation is over. Taylor has made the conscious effort to ignore Naomi, Joe and Tom who are seated on the other half of the table. Taylor knows she can’t block the new woman on this table out, but she clearly is taking every chance she’s got to engage in other conversations. Just when Eleanor is tapping attentively on her shoulder is when Taylor looks up and finds Naomi, Joe and Eleanor all dressed up. Apparently ready to go for a walk. A bit confused, Taylor looks at Joe and then back at Eleanor. 

“We’re going out for a walk with Flint, do you want to join us?” 

Taylor immediately shakes her head, an answer that came a bit too fast. 

“Oh thanks for asking but I think you should go without me.” she mumbles, the last thing she wants to do right now is go for a walk with Naomi and Joe. Eleanor however continues to pull her hand, seems to have made up her mind that her mum has to join them today. Just when Taylor was about to talk to Eleanor is when Joe already speaks up. His voice in the same gentle tone that he’s always put on when they had a serious conversation. 

“Actually, it would be fantastic if we could just... talk a bit? Who knows when’s the next time that we can all get together?” he says, Naomi just standing next to him, smiling hopefully and nodding with big eyes. Taylor knows that she’s being unreasonable but she would wish that Naomi wasn’t a petite and small woman, who’s got huge eyes, seems a bit shy and radiates this incredible kindness that sickens her whenever she enters the room. She wants Naomi to be someone she can passionately hate. Someone who’s toxic and mean, who gives off bad energy. But instead, she seems to be a kind, ordinary, bi- racial woman. Someone who Taylor would want to be friends with. The last person who Taylor would have wanted as her replacement. The better choice. The easier choice.

“Yeah it would be fun to.. catch up!” Naomi then says to Taylor in her British accent, sounding a bit unsure whether she’s been taking it too far. Taylor swallows. She’s got no arguments left. If she still decides to not go with them, then she would be the bad cop. A decision she doesn’t want to have to take. Taylor slowly gets up, nods and puts on a fake smile as Eleanor already cheers on her. She seems to be way more excited than Taylor is. 

“Alright, it’s fine.” Taylor mumbles, can feel Elizabeth’s stare in her neck. She knows that it’s not fine. Not at all. 

A bit insecure, just like she was back then, Taylor slowly puts in her boots that were left in the hallway. Joe watches her and he knows this isn’t easy for her. But knowing Taylor, he also is aware that things will feel way easier once she gets to know Naomi. Once she sees that she’s so respected by someone who doesn’t even know her. Once she sees that he wants her in his life. Forever. No matter what the circumstances are. 

Joe remains standing in the hallway, watches Eleanor and Naomi with Flint leave the doorway already. Joe remains standing there, looks down at Taylor who’s still fixing her boots. Once she gets up, she exchanges a look with him and he smiles. Taylor is rolling her eyes. 

I can’t believe you make me do this.

Thank you for doing this.

With her hands in her coat, Taylor slowly starts walking next to Joe. She feels awkward to say the least. Going for a walk with Joe, their child and his new girlfriend. Naomi carefully slows down to walk right next to Joe, and seems to be more than interested to start a conversation with Taylor. 

“It’s such a beautiful weather isn’t it? I can’t believe it started snowing last night.” Naomi says and Taylor nods, can see in the corner of her eye that Joe is holding hands with her. And Taylor feels sick. To say the least. 

“Eleanor was so sad these past weeks cause it hadn’t snowed yet, so she’s ecstatic today.” Joe laughs and everyone reacts except for Taylor. She usually is excellent in smalltalk, and Joe knows that. But seeing her so quiet makes him think that it’s not even a statement she’s giving him - she probably really is at a loss for words. 

“Are you feeling better?” Joe asks her and Taylor slowly looks up, looks straight at Eleanor who’s holding Flint in her hands while walking down the street. 

“Yeah definitely.” She says, doesn’t even try to sound like she’s okay with it. Slowly but surely, she feels rage develop in her chest. She cannot believe he’s making her do this. She cannot believe after everything they’ve been though, he can just go for a walk with Eleanor and her and his new girlfriend. 

“Are you usually based in London or in America, Taylor?” Naomi then asks and Taylor can feel immediately that she’s been desperate to start a conversation with her. Taylor feels her staring at her. But she can’t face her just yet.

“Well Eleanor’s pre- school is based in London so we’re mainly here. But before covid we would travel a lot between Nashville and London.” she answers, feels actually kind of proud that she’s grown up enough to not become mean or sarcastic towards Naomi. And she can feel Joe do the same. She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s proud how civil she can be. 

“Wow must be nice to have homes all over the world.” Naomi says and Joe laughs quietly. She cannot believe he’s laughing at her. Cannot believe he would be with someone who’s from an entirely different world. But then again, wasn’t that what Joe was to her back then? A sweet escape from the crowded and abnormal world she’s been living in. Taylor dares to look to her left and she can see Naomi looking at her steps carefully. Maybe, Naomi is Joe’s escape from her. The most painful thought she’s had for a while.

“Well, I’m sure Joe already told you that living in two different countries at the same time isn’t as exciting as you may think.” Naomi laughs quickly, and anyone who would witness this conversation could tell immediately that Naomi is nervous. Taylor hates it. Taylor hates how nice she is. 

“Well, I was raised in southwest London and my family never could afford to travel. So to me, all of that sounds lovely.” Taylor says nothing.

“Daddy, can you help me with Flint’s collar?” Eleanor suddenly yells, already is a good six hundred meters in front of them. Joe immediately nods, starts jogging towards his daughter. Taylor and Naomi are now left behind, slowly continue walking down the street. And without taking a closer look at Naomi, Taylor can feel how happy the other woman seems to be that she has some alone time with Taylor now. 

“It sounds ridiculous, I’m sure, but you have no idea how scared I was to meet you.” Naomi then says and Taylor wishes she never would’ve started this topic. She doesn’t know anything about Naomi and she wants things to stay this way. “When I was younger I had all of your albums at my house and... I really admire you a lot.”

“Thanks.” Taylor answers, as emotionless as possible. And she can sense that Naomi feels the cold that she radiates right now. How can Joe expect her to bond with his new girlfriend on Christmas? How can he think that her love for him has ever diminished? It never could. And he used to know that. The silence between the tall blonde woman in the big black coat and the smaller woman in the red puff jacket gets louder. Taylor feels uncomfortable and she for sure knows that Naomi feels the same. 

“I know you hate me.” Naomi then says and Taylor sighs. Her anger gets more with every single word she says. 

“I don’t hate you.”

“No, I mean.. I get it. And I feel so sorry for...”

“What do you feel sorry for?” Taylor asks, a bit too aggressive for her usual self. 

“I’m sorry that Joe is making us meet over Christmas. It wasn’t my idea. I hope you know that. But I think he just... he wants things to become easier. With us. With you and your daughter. I think he just wants to finally have some peace.”

Naomi’s last sentence rips Taylor’s insides apart. She knows that she’s right. That she just said what Taylor sang years ago. Joe just wants to have peace in his life. With a partner who can give him that. With her as an ex- girlfriend and with his child. That’s all he wants. Taylor and Naomi just keep walking down the street, nothing but the gravel under their soles can be heard. 

“You know, I will never become someone for him like you were.” Naomi then says and Taylor starts to feel sick. She can’t believe that this woman won’t stop talking. It almost feels painful hearing her voice in her ears. “You... you were his first real love. Whenever we talk about these things...” she sighs, then looks back up at Tay. “He speaks a lot about you and I think there’s just so many things he’s still digesting. Please don’t ever think that..”

“Naomi...” Taylor then interrupts her because she feels like throwing up. She can’t believe that the little person next to her is opening up to her if it she was an old friend. And maybe, exactly that kindness is what drives her insane. Because deep down, Taylor knows that Joe deserves someone as caring as that. Someone who helps him heal the wounds that she created. “I don’t hate you, Naomi. But I also need you to respect that I need time. Can we not talk about Joe anymore?”

Naomi looks at Taylor with big eyes, immediately nods. She seems intimidated by the tall blonde woman and Taylor can feel how guilty she feels. Naomi shakes her head, then turns to Taylor. “God, Taylor, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just thought maybe it would be the right way to just.. be really honest with you, but you’re so right, it was super insensible, and...”

“It’s fine.” Taylor then says, enjoys the sudden silence between them more than she expected. Taylor slowly looks up, can see Joe walking hand in hand with Eleanor. His hand lands on Eleanor’s head, and even from far away, Taylor can hear that she’s singing her favorite Christmas song. Taylor can’t help but smile for a second. Maybe, just maybe, it was all meant to be this way. Taylor still remembers ten years ago, when she first moved to New York and discovered slowly that with the lifestyle she chose, having a family and a committed relationship would be impossible. Maybe, just maybe, she was right back then. Taylor sees Joe jogging backwards, making Eleanor laugh. He seems so happy today. Playing with Eleanor, knowing he’s found someone who can give him the kind of life he was always used to, before her. The kind of life he craves. Taylor suddenly feels a new feeling in her chest. It’s a feeling she read about multiple times but never had experienced herself before, in the truest form she could imagine. She just wants him to be happy. Even if it means that she’s not part of his life anymore. At least not in the way she used to be. And she wants him to ‘digest’ whatever she did to him. Wants someone to help him heal the scars that she gave him. 

“Look at that house, baby, oh my god.” Taylor squeaks for the fifteenth time in the past hour, stops in the middle of the street again. Joe grins, takes a step back to see what she’s looking at. A tiny house in brick stone with a French balcony right on the canal. He looks down at the blonde woman and laughs. She quickly reaches for her crossbody bag, takes out her phone and takes a picture. He can’t help but laugh. 

“We’ll  go home on Sunday and you have two hundred pictures of dutch houses on your phone.” Taylor grins, but doesn’t let him stop her. She just continues to take pictures, then buries her phone in her bag again and reaches for his hand once more. In nothing but her jeans shorts, white sneakers and huge sweatshirt, Taylor walks next to Joe. It’s a lukewarm summer night. With both hands now clinging onto Joe’s, they just continue to walk down the small street somewhere here in Amsterdam. 

“I’m just in awe that there’s people living here, in this.. dream city. It’s so cozy and gorgeous. I just… Joe, I could cry how romantic this is.” Joe, who’s still walking hand in hand next to her just looks down at her with a big smile. His blonde hair a bit too long. His beard grown for his upcoming movie role. He just smiles, gets closer to her and presses a gentle kiss onto her lips. She tastes like the rose chapstick she applied earlier. 

“I’m glad you like it.” he then says, continues walking down this lane. Taylor’s eyes are everywhere right now. She’s smitten by the city, smitten by the fact that she’s experiencing this. A weekend in a beautiful European city with the love of her life. No big black cars. No security around her. She feels so free with him, so safe, so… alive.

“Thanks for taking me here and organizing everything.” She mumbles. The sun is slowly setting and she’s glad she put on her sweater. “You’re very welcome. We’re almost there.” Joe says, keeps looking at his phone to make sure they’re not missing the right lane. “I think we need to go that way.” He says, points to a tiny alley on the left. Taylor looks at him and then back at the tiny street and just laughs. “God, I fucking love Europe” she laughs, holds onto his hand a bit tighter as they make their way through the alley. Joe looks back at her and she’s amused, carefully watches her steps on the cobblestones to not trip or fall. 

“Where are you taking me? Do I have to be scared?” She asks, and Joe laughs. 

“I’m taking you out to dinner, I already told you that.” he says all smart and Taylor just shakes her head. 

“I’m really hungry. Where are we...”, within a few seconds Taylor gets quieter because she’s speechless. Just as they left the  tiny street, a massive canal with a beautiful bridge that fully lid up by small lights is right in front of them. And Taylor feels like she’s in a movie. “Beautiful here, huh?” he smiles and Taylor remains speechless. 

“Do you see this restaurant?” he asks, points to three small tables that are located right on the bridge next to the canal. Taylor just looks up at him, can’t believe he picked this romantic little restaurant for the two. 

“Are you kidding me? This is... oh my god.” With a proud smile, Joe starts walking closer to the small restaurant. Just as they stand in front, Joe starts speaking to the waiter who then accompanies Taylor and Joe to their outside table - a tiny round table on the small bridge right over the Amsterdam canal. Taylor, who truly seems to be at a loss for words just sits down together with Joe. And the blonde haired man has to laugh at her reaction. Her eyes as big as the eyes of a child and her jaw still dropped. 

“Do you like it?” he asks laughing, knows the answer himself. Taylor still looks around, unable to process how beautiful her surrounding is. She’s used to big city lights and massive crowds. But what Joe is presenting her here is quiet and calm beauty. The sunset over the old Dutch roofs. The view over the canal right from this little bridge. People who pass the street on the other side with their bikes. It’s quiet and small and beautiful. 

“Joe, this is... this is by far the most romantic restaurant I’ve ever been at. How did you... how did you find this?” she asks, her phone already in her hand, taking pictures of everything around her. And Joe can’t help but smile. This was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to make this special, wanted to show her some of the most beautiful places in the world he knows. He wants to take her to all of them. The special ones and the common ones. 

Just when he was about to open the menu, Taylor tells him to smile at her and he does so. The picture she just took of him makes her smile. He seems so happy, his eyes radiating in this picture right in the centre of this beautiful scenery right here at this restaurant. Taylor looks at this picture for a minute too long. 

This is it. This is her entire happiness. 

With a happy smile, Taylor puts her phone back into her small YSL purse and opens the menu like he just did. “What are you going to eat?” Taylor asks him and Joe smiles slightly, then looks back up at her. 

“Well I’m not sure yet but I already know what you’re gonna get.” Taylor laughs, 

“Okay and what is that?”

“Number 21 - truffle pasta with side salad. Dressing on the side.” Taylor looks back up at him and laughs in surprise again. He just knows her too well.

“Why the fuck do you read me like a book?” she jokes, and Joe can’t help but stare at her for a bit longer. She really does look incredible in this light. Her bangs a bit messy, her hair in a bun. She looks cozy in her sweater. But most of all she looks... happy. 

“I guess I just know you very well.” he says, and Taylor closes the menu and looks back up at him. It’s a loving look, an intimate one. She slowly reaches for his hand across the table and Joe also puts the menu aside. 

“You do. You really do.” she just mumbles and he feels like drowning in her eyes. Just when Joe was about to open his mouth, the waiter had already made his way to them and Joe orders - both main menus and two glasses of the Chardonnay. Taylor’s favorite. 

“Do you ever think about what our lives could be like, living here in one of these tiny houses.” Taylor then says, her eyes on her surroundings. She sounds so dreamy as so often. Her heart is the heart of a little romantic. Joe still holds her hand on the table, strokes the back of it slowly. His eyes are just on her. “Maybe you would be working at the Amsterdam theatre of arts. I would be a writer. We’d both may struggle financially but live in a tiny old flat. You would get me tulips every weekend. We would eat a lot of cheese.” Joe starts laughing then, still looking at Taylor. 

“I don’t think that’s what actual Dutch people  do on the daily, babe.” he laughs, as the waiter already approaches their table and serves them two glasses of wine. Not even for a split second, Taylor lets go off Joe’s hand. With her other hand she’s reaching for the wine glass. 

“Cheers baby. To us. Two years.” she smiles and he does the same.

“Two years. Almost.” he says and she laughs slowly.

“Oh come on, do you really think I’m breaking up with you two weeks before our anniversary?” she laughs and he just shrugs his shoulders. 

“You never know.” Taylor just shakes her head. He is silly at times. 

“But for real now, what if we quit our lives and move to Amsterdam and become ordinary people?” she asks him and Joe has to laugh once more. She really seems to be obsessed with this idea . 

“I don’t know, I like our lives.” he says, feels a sudden nervousness overcome him. It’s the first time since this weekend. The first time that it comes boiling up and scaring him a bit. 

“I mean... our lives are not normal or easy. I would like normal and easy for a while.” Taylor says, looks around herself once more. She can’t wait to send pictures of this beautiful location to her family and friends. They won’t even believe how lucky she’s been. 

“I think normal and easy is not for us. We’re not normal or easy and I love that.” he says, takes a sip off his wine glass. Taylor laughs and looks at him then. 

“No I am not normal or easy. You are though.�� she jokes but Joe doesn’t react to her. She knows that it’s one of her weaknesses. Laughing when she’s nervous. Turning things that scare or worry her into a joke. Joe, who still hasn’t replied yet, just keeps staring at her. She’s so uncomfortable all of the sudden. And she never is, especially not when she’s with Joe. 

“You are normal and you are easy too. And I love you.” he says then and Taylor looks back at him. She can see so much in his eyes, in these moments. So much love and kindness, but there’s also something else. He’s holding something back. Deep down, she can feel that. 

“I know you still think you’re a burden and your life’s all complicated and all that..” he then says and Taylor freezes. There’s not been many times where he’s blurted something like this out. Without thinking twice. Just like that. Taylor swallows. Why is it that he can read her mind like that. As If she was an open book to him. “But have you ever thought for a second that you’re the only one out there I ever want to be with? I.. I don’t care about anything like that. All the.. all the complications or the not easiness or the abnormal things about your life. It’s not like that for me. I can’t ever see myself loving someone else again.” He says, ends his little speech with a smile. And Taylor just sits there, at the restaurant, holding his hand. She looks at his face but his words feel too overwhelming for her to process them. She’s had relationships before. But she’s never heard words quite like these. 

“Do you understand me?” he jokes at her speechlessness then, “I can’t be with anyone else ever again. You changed me.” 

“I changed you?” 

“You did.” Joe looks back in her eyes and he can see how deeply emotional she is. This is it, he thinks.

“You changed me, Joe. In so many ways.” He smiles, takes a deep breath, holds her little hand a bit tighter. 

“I know we never spoke about this in all seriousness, but…” he stops again, looks at her hands, before looking back up at her again. He feels shaky all of the sudden. His hands become a bit more sweaty than usually. “But.. how would you feel about.. things getting more serious in the future.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“How would you feel if I asked you to marry me?” Taylor sits there, a soothing evening breeze passing her face. She just smiles at him, doesn’t say anything. Then, without her controlling it, Taylor starts laughing. Loudly. Joe swallows. This was not quite the reaction he was hoping for. 

“Baby, are you proposing to me? Or what is this?” Joe takes a breath, then laughs with her. He’s a bit insecure, but he’s shaking it off quite well. Acting school seems to have paid off.

“I’m not, I just wanted to speak to you about it. I mean… do you ever want to get married and have kids, or what are your plans in like… years down the road.” 

“Of course I want to marry you. And I want us to have tall blonde weird ass kids.” she smiles across the table, “but.. we’re not there yet. I mean, we’re not even thirty yet. I just.. I definitely need a bit longer.” She laughs and Joe nods. He also takes a sip of his wine glass now. He definitely needs that. 

“Do you feel differently?” She asks him then and he shakes his head. 

“No, no I fully agree with you. I mean.. I’m 27. Way too young.” he mumbles, and Taylor reaches his hand again. 

“Hey, look at me.” she says then, almost whispering because she knows he will hear her. “It’s you and me until the day I die. No matter if you love someone else or.. if you hate me. I will always love you, even when you don’t love me anymore.”

A dog barks at the end of the road. The soft snow underneath her boots creak slightly. For the first time since minutes, Taylor looks up in front of her again. Joe and Eleanor are still a good three hundred meters in front of them, have now started to pick a snowball fight. Just the two of them. And the tall man seems unlucky, seems to have taught his daughter very well. Every now and then, he acts as if Eleanor’s snowball hit him very hard. Harder than humanly possible. And Eleanor loves it, giggles excitedly while speaking to Flint about her next move. 

You left me. You left me. You left me no choice but to stay here forever.

Taylor feels her body vibrating. She immediately stops, turns around at the woman next to her. “Uhm Naomi, can you.. can you walk up to Joe and tell him I need to finish something really quick. He.. he’ll know. See you later.” Naomi nods a bit confused, and it’s only then that Taylor notices how insecure the woman seems. She’s looking at Taylor, trying hard to understand her. Trying hard to read her. It’s this moment, in which Taylor understands that it’s also not easy being in her position. She’s the one who wasn’t there. Who hasn’t lived through the past years. 

But Joe and her did. Every second. 

More determined than before, she then turns around, already picks her phone as soon as she’s a few meters away from her. Within a matter of seconds, Taylor opens her recording app, stares at her phone for a few seconds and closes the app again. She then goes back to her picture folder, scrolls up for a few seconds. Right until she’s found it. Found something she didn’t want to see for a long time. 

07.54pm, Amsterdam, Netherlands, September 4th, 2018. 

Her phone still reminds her. Taylor stares at this picture for a while. Joe indeed, looked so happy. Sitting in the small restaurant by the canal. Holding her hand. Believing that they were forever. Having his mum’s ring in his pocket. Little did he know then that this evening would be the first time she would refuse his proposal. Taylor touches his face on the screen for a few seconds, then closes the app again. She goes back into her recordings, holds the phone close to her and begins to sing quietly. She doesn’t want anyone to notice her. To notice her singing nonsense into her phone - which has been the only dealing mechanism she’s ever known. She closes her eyes, right on this snowy winter day, and she’s back. Back in Amsterdam. Back in summer. 

“Help, I'm still at the restaurant, still sitting in a corner I haunt, cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right..”

[evandearest]

The Garden of Eden | Part I: Cycles

Pairing: James March x reader (you) |  ~Part: (1/4)~

Summary (Part One): Life with James March involved has had many cycles. In a time long ago, you once flourished. But things don’t always stay the same forever, do they? Will James find his way back to you?

Warnings (in this part): physical / mental / verbal abuse (child and adult), violence, graphic descriptions of murder / blood, dark themes, heartbreak, extreme emotional grief, just overall dark. avoid if any of the aforementioned is triggering.

Word count: 2,223

IMPORTANT Notes: Hello! I’m so excited to start this series that @etoile-writings​ requested that I can hardly type fast enough! lol. I really hope that I can do this justice!

The request was: juxtaposition - (noun) the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect. AND true love over a forced marriage + lots of fun ideas, such as flowers. Read on my blog for more if you want. I also suck at summaries but I thought I’d give it a try.

Speaking of flowers, I just wanted to say specifically to the requester: I didn’t just pick white roses because they are my personal favorite, but also because of their symbolism to the reader character. White roses symbolize purity, innocence, and youthfulness, associating with young love and eternal loyalty, and can also symbolize a new beginning and everlasting love. Just wanted to say that because I found it very interesting and symbolic!

SO... I have a few notes before we begin. 1) This is set before James died, approximately the year 1926. Since this is a fan-fictional story, the events are slightly warped from the show. The main plot of the show still flows, but this is kind of worked in, in a way. So the plot of the show doesn’t really change all that much. The second thing 2) a lot of things in this story will become clear as I post more parts. There will be more flashbacks and the plot will expand drastically. This is pretty much just an introduction. Just wanted to put that out there. And 3) I plan to do four parts, but that may be subject to change.

Some things never change.

That you had found to be true. The cycle of life was incredible. The lessons in life you were meant to learn were imprinted into your being by repetitious events that were sometimes out of your control. You knew that too well.

People had always told you, “God works in mysterious ways.” It hadn’t been so apparent to you until you had experienced that mystery yourself. It seemed that your life had entered its second cycle. It seemed that you had lived this exact moment once before.

Your head was pounding, a moan sounding when his fist collided into your side again. You kept your arms up in defense, as it was the only thing stopping him from hitting your face. That hurt much worse, and it was harder to hide. Explaining to your neighbors why there are bruises on your face was the last thing you would need. You’d already done it last time this had happened. Of course, you hadn’t expected this to happen again. You’d put too much faith into your husband. A wretched sob left your burning throat, your face soaking wet with tears.

“Please stop,” you pleaded, whimpering, while your husband Robert laughed.

“Maybe next time you should just keep your mouth shut,” he spat, sighing as he rubbed his knuckles. A fleeting memory flashed before your eyes.

“Maybe next time you should just keep your mouth shut!”

“I-I’m sorry!” you cried, clutching your jaw as you scrambled across the floor.

“Yeah, of course you are now,” the old man said maliciously, towering over your small frame. He laughed, shaking his head. “You think in vain of yourself. You can’t believe that a man would ever want a woman who talked to him like that. You believe that because you’re so innocent people will treat you as such.” He squatted down in front of you, his face getting closer to yours. “Well, I have something you need to know, young girl. Most of us humans don’t really care about others.” He chuckled again, standing up. “We’re all in it for ourselves.” He shook his head. His fist pulled back again, and you gasped, throwing your arms over your head.

“Leave her alone!”

James came racing into the room, his hands pushing his father’s fist away before it hit you. He shoved him back, and you watched in amazement. You couldn’t believe that he stood up to his father. Just moments before, as he had told you of the abuse, he had been shaking at even the thought of his father hitting him.

That’s what had led you into the conversation in the first place. When James had told you of how his father had been treating him since he was seven years old to now, at almost eighteen, you couldn’t help yourself. You’d thought that confrontation would stop him, or maybe he would realize how wrong it was if you had showed him. You were wrong, and now here you were, your favorite floral blouse torn, your jaw aching from the impact of his father’s hit.

You were wrong, and now James was in another bad situation. You stared at James, wondering why he would ever step in. Why he would ever step in when he knew what his father would do.

“You stupid boy!” The old man yelled, his fist striking James’ face. “Do you just like being beat? Don’t tell me it’s because you love this naïve girl!” James’ glare burned holes into his father’s face, his jaw set firmly.

It clicked behind your eyes. He loved you. He stepped in because he was protecting you, because he didn’t want you to experience what he had.

His father chuckled as he looked between the two of you; James now standing beside your form on the floor. He shook his head, and left the room without another word, although he slammed the door. You jumped at the loud impact, scurrying to stand beside James. There was a moment of silence before you spoke.

“James,” you whispered, studying his face. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he was listening. “Do you believe him? Are all people really that selfish?”

James still remained silent, but that was enough of an answer for you. You simply couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t accept that all people only cared about themselves. Not when you had seen it for yourself, firsthand with James and your family, or even the kindness of strangers.

But you were wrong again. Your own father had proved that to you when he had you married off to Robert Williams for money. It opened your eyes, and only then had you seen everything that people did just to get what they wanted. And now you know that the only person who ever cared about you was James. And you were ripped away from him just before you were able to begin a life with him, all because your father didn’t believe he would be able to take care of you. You’d never even known he cared so much about James’ wealth, or lack thereof.

For a while, that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d still think about James in your every waking moments. Sure, you’d settled into your new life with your new husband. At first, you had even gotten along with one another. You learned how to accept what you had, keep your spirit, and be as grateful as you could for simple things such as safety. But that changed too. The problem arose at the topic of children. To you, the thought of having a child with Robert made you sick to your stomach. You just didn’t want to fake it with him, but you didn’t know how to tell him that. You couldn’t give and raise a child with a man you didn’t love. You supposed it was because you still had hope that you’d see James again. For many years, he had believed your excuses, until he had grew tired of you pushing it off. That’s where the anger and violence had begun. So you ran.

At the very moment that you read about James in the newspaper, you ran. You ran straight to his luxurious brand new hotel. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that poor boy you’d left behind all those years ago had turned into such a successful man. You’d just hoped that he still loved you like you loved him; that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

But once again, as life repeats, you were wrong. James’ life was nothing you ever could have imagined. He’d built his hotel from scratch, and that was after he had clawed his way up the chain of command. He was filthy rich, living life in the most prosperous way imaginable, his power undeniable. You were in awe. If only your father could see him now. If only he’d seen what you had in James all those years ago when he had first began his journey to being a self-made man.

But wealth wasn’t the only thing that had changed. James obviously didn’t love you anymore. How could he, when he had a new wife? Elizabeth was her name. She seemed lovely, and it was wrong of you to assume he would never move on from you. Even if you’d never moved on from him.

So you stayed. You had no choice but to at this point. You had no where else to turn, no where else to go, no real life of your own. Just memories of a life long ago to hold onto.

You wept as you curled in on yourself. Your husband stood there, his breathing heavy as he glared at you with the anger of a thousand hurricanes in his eyes.

“You were the biggest mistake of my life,” he snarled, an expression of disappointment settling on his face. “A wife that won’t even give me children.” He scoffed and chuckled dryly. “What a pathetic joke.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You cupped your hands over your face, sniffling.

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly boomed, his fist raising once again. You shouted out in protest at the incoming attack, bracing yourself for the pain.

At what seemed to be the most perfect timing, a knock sounded at the front door.

Robert froze in his place, his fist hovering in mid-air. You sighed in relief, pushing yourself further into the wall, balled up in a fetal position on the floor. He turned, shooting a hesitant look back at you, before slowly making his way to answer the door.

The door handle jiggled as he opened it, and although you couldn’t see, you listened intently from your position in the living room.

“Hello,” Robert greeted whomever was on the other side of the door. “May I help you?”

“Greetings, sir,” replied the voice of a man. You froze. You could’ve sworn you knew that voice. But it couldn’t be.

“Yeah?” said your husband.

“Would it happen that a woman by the name of ‘Y/F/N Y/L/N’ resides here?” said the man. You let out a breath. It was him. It was James.

Robert paused, and you began contemplating revealing yourself.

“She’s busy,” Robert rushed out nervously.

There was another pause, this time from James.

“I’m not sure you’re telling the truth, sir,” said James. “You seem to be quite flustered.”

“She- she can’t come right now,” Robert demanded, “she’s busy. Come another time.”

You panicked. He was going to make him leave! This was your only chance!

“Help!” you shouted, before even having time to think about it.

Before you knew it, the man you had dreamed of for so many years was standing before you. You gasped as your eyes met his, the same dark brown framed by his sharp masculine features. It was as if you had seen the sun after years in the dark. Your eyes took in his features before shifting to look at the object in his hands. A bouquet of white roses lay clasped between his hands; your flowers. He had remembered. He really had come back for you. Finally, you had your James again.

“What is the meaning of this?” Robert shouted as he followed quickly behind James. James’ head turned slowly to look at the man, his jaw locking firmly as his eyes settled on him.

“How about,” James clicked his tongue, pausing for a mere second, “you explain the meaning of this.” He gestured toward you, his head turning to briefly look at you again. Robert crossed his arms.

“I don’t think I’m inclined to tell you anything,” he said, a look of resentment taking over his expression. “In fact, I think you should see your way out.” James stared at the man for a moment before his lips upturned into a small smirk.

“Of course,” he grinned, his accent drawing the words out. Your heart skipped a beat as he slowly began walking towards the hallway to the front door. No, you thought. He couldn’t leave. You thought he had come back for you. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed him the most. Not when you’d waited this long. 

Just as your hopes had almost been crushed, James spun around. What happened next was hard to process immediately. Blood suddenly covered James’ face and chest, spurting out from Robert’s throat as James’ knife slid smoothly across, the skin slicing like butter. James stood, a look of satisfaction on his face, his eyes settling upon yours. A flicker of what seemed like doubt rushed across his face as you grew silent, your eyes wide and innocent as you stared at him, digesting what had just happened.

“James?” you whispered.

“Yes, dear?” he said smoothly, his jaw moving back and forth slowly as he worked it nervously. You climbed to your feet, padding over to him softly. Your hand slowly came up to rest upon his cheek, thumb softly gliding over the bone there, the blood on his face smearing with the movement. Your other hand gently grabbed the roses from his hands, glancing down at them adoringly, your lips curling into a smile.

“Darling,” James said hesitantly, eyebrows furrowing, “I apologize if I’ve frightened you.” You smiled up at him.

“No,” you said reassuringly. “No, quite the opposite.” You paused, studying James’ handsome features. You leaned in slowly, your breaths mingling. “You’ve freed me.” It was a whisper, barely audible, but at your close proximity, you knew he could hear. You could feel the warmth of his body so close to yours as you moved closer and closer. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, James arms enveloping you, the world seeming to align once more.

It seemed as if you had no worries, no hardships; that all of your anxieties had magically disappeared with his kiss. He’d reset your life. He’d given you everything you wanted just by being in yours. All those years that you had waited for him seemed worth it. All of your blind devotion seemed worth it. James had finally, finally come back to you.

All those people had been right: God did work in mysterious ways. And in that moment, you decided James was your meant to be; your heaven on Earth; your purpose of being. Or further... he was your God.

---

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

[cmfan3]

Acceptance

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau X Emily Prentiss

Warning: Strong Language & Sensitive Topics Mentioned

Words: 2.8K

The team didn’t have a case so JJ and Emily were relaxing in their house, enjoying each other’s company as they watched a movie together. After years of consistently pining for each other, the team had enough and hatched a plan to get them together. Mainly because of Garcia’s insistence, the women have been dating for nearly two years and although they each had their own place, neither one could bear to stay away from the other for long, so they were currently living in Emily’s condo.

They were on the couch, JJ laying on top of the brunette, with their arms wrapped around each other as the movie played in the background. A resounding knock cut through the room, causing the two to share a look of confusion as they both got up, neither one expecting visitors. The blonde grabbed the TV remote and lowered the volume as Emily went to open the door.

JJ turned and began straightening the couch as she called out, “Emily, honey, who is it?” After not hearing a response, the younger woman walked out to see what was wrong and was shocked to find the Ambassador standing in the doorway with Emily gaping at her.

The Ambassador’s eyebrows scrunched together as she squinted her eyes in disbelief, “Emily dear, are you not going to invite me in?” The brunette, still in shock, didn’t respond but stepped aside and shut the door after her mother walked in. After a moment of standing at the door to compose her confusion, she walked over to the younger woman and stood next to her, desperate to feel her girlfriend’s presence.

Elizabeth clasped her hands together as she questioned, “now then, I heard her calling you ‘honey.’ What is she talking about and why is she calling you honey?” Realizing that her mother was speaking to her, Emily’s shock began to fade, “I’m sorry, what?” The Ambassador’s patience was beginning to wear thin as she spoke with disgust, “this woman called you honey. Why?”

Emily stood up straighter and stepped in front of the blonde but not before reaching back and grabbing her hand, intertwining their fingers, “this woman is my girlfriend, Jennifer.” Elizabeth paled as she digested the information before croaking out, “girlfriend? You like women?” The brunette stared at her mother, “I don’t like women. I love Jen.”

The Ambassador’s jaw clenched together and after a moment of silence, she answered, “do you not care about me and what this will do to my reputation? You liking women. What you need is a husband to set you straight.” Shocked, Emily scoffed, “I’m sorry, what?” Her mother threw her hands up as she began to raise her voice, “this will ruin my career Emily. This will ruin the Prentiss name and everything I’ve created. Why are you choosing to do this to me, your flesh and blood, your family, your mother?”

For a split second, all Emily saw was red before she felt a small squeeze on her hand, forcing her to look back and lock eyes with JJ, noticing the love that was shining through from the crystal blue eyes. She turned back to Elizabeth and spat, “this has nothing to do with you. Who I love isn’t a choice I make, it’s a feeling I can’t change and I love Jennifer. Who I am and who I love is none of your business, mother.”

“This has to be some sort of practical joke you’re playing and I have to say, it’s not quite that funny Emily. I gave birth to you. I raised you. I have given you everything you’ve ever asked for. And this is how you repay me? This is absurd and you should be ashamed of how you’re acting because it’s quite ridiculous,“ the Ambassador nearly shouted.

Emily’s frustration exploded, “you NEVER raised me. You were NEVER there. You NEVER even gave a shit about me. You only cared about how I made you look, so don’t start acting like you care because you never did. I lived my whole life without you in it and I definitely don’t need you in it now. So goodbye, Elizabeth.”

The Ambassador scoffed, “I’m your mother. If you think that I’m going to just stand here and let you speak to me in that manner then you’re clearly mista-”

JJ let go of her girlfriend’s hand as she stepped in front of her, shielding the brunette from her mother as she snapped, “don’t you dare finish that sentence. I don’t care if you’re the Ambassador or not. Get the fuck out of our house. You’ve clearly overstayed your welcome.” Elizabeth’s face flushed from anger as her mouth parted but nothing more came out. She huffed and whirled around, storming out of the door and slamming it shut behind her.

Emily’s eyes remained focused on the door as tears began to form, her body shaking slightly from the whole ordeal. JJ turned and gently enveloped her girlfriend into her arms, letting out a sigh of frustration. The brunette wrapped her arms around the younger woman’s torso, as she sobbed.

“I’m sorry,” Emily’s voice cracked. JJ pulled back slightly and looked at the older woman with concern etched into her features. Her heart shattered when hearing the sadness in her girlfriend’s voice, “for what?” Emily closed her eyes as her lip trembled, “for making you put up with this. You deserve so much better Jen.” “Oh Em,” JJ sighed lovingly as she reached up and grasped the brunette’s face and wiped away the tears with her thumb, “you’re the best I can have. I love you. I will always love you.”

Emily pressed further into the blonde’s palms, seeking comfort. JJ leaned in and placed a light kiss upon her girlfriend’s lips, the taste of the salty tears that had fallen prominent on her lips. The older woman hummed with satisfaction as they split before hugging her flush against her body and resting her chin on top of the younger woman’s head.

The two split and JJ smiled softly at the brunette, “why don’t you go back and play the movie? I just have to make a quick phone call and I’ll be right there, I promise.” Emily nodded slightly before leaning in and giving her girlfriend a quick peck on the cheek before heading back to the living room, her head filled with thoughts about what just happened.

The blonde stepped out of earshot as she pulled out her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. After two rings, Garcia called out, “hey goldie locks, to what do I owe this fine pleasure?” JJ’s lips twitched in a smile at the new nickname, “the Ambassador just showed up.” “No, she didn’t,” the tech analyst gasped. The blonde sighed, “yea, she did. And to say it wasn’t pretty is definitely an understatement.”

Garica paused before she questioned, “what happened?” “She found out that we were dating and was upset with the fact that I was a woman. She kept talking about how Em doesn’t care about the Prentiss reputation and whatnot,” JJ concluded. “Oh my poor baby,” Garcia exclaimed, “give me fifteen minutes. I’ll be right there, don’t you worry.”

Before the younger woman had a chance to respond, the line was cut. She put her phone back in her pocket as she walked over to Emily who was sitting on the couch and had her eyes trained on the screen but her head seemed to be somewhere else. JJ sat down and placed her hand on the brunette’s thigh, squeezing it softly. Emily’s shoulders drooped as the blonde gathered her into her arms and ran her hand through the dark hair.

After roughly fifteen minutes of the two women comforting each other with nothing but contact, another knock was heard. Feeling her girlfriend tense up in her arms, JJ smiled softly as she placed a soft kiss on the top of her head before getting up and going to open the door.

Upon swinging the door open, she wasn’t surprised to see Penelope standing in the hallway, her arms full with a bottle of wine and multiple blankets. JJ let her in and the two walked back to where the brunette was still sitting on the couch. Emily’s eyes shot up to see who was knocking on the door and when she saw the colorful tech analyst, she turned towards her girlfriend, “Jen?”

“I called her. I thought you might need a bit of a pick-me-up and some support that wasn’t me,” the younger woman admitted with a small blush gathering on her cheeks. Garcia placed the wine on the table before throwing the blankets at the brunette and jumping onto the couch. She grasped Emily’s hands tightly, “I’m so sorry sweetcheeks. You don’t deserve any of this crap.”

JJ’s eyebrow lifted at the word, surprised that Garcia used it but ultimately decided to not say anything. She walked over and perched herself behind the older woman, resting her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder as her arms wrapped around her torso. Emily leaned back into the blonde’s embrace as she squeezed her friend’s hands.

Penelope let go of the brunette’s hands and reached over, grabbing the wine bottle off the table, “I’m here for you,” she shared a look with JJ, “we both are.” Emily smiled faintly at the two, “thanks PG.” The peppy woman patted the older woman’s hand, “no need to thank me. I love you E. We both do.” Emily nodded, indicating that she knew, “I love you guys too.”

“Now, we’re gonna talk about everything that happened and what you’re thinking and we better finish this wine. I’m not leaving until the entire bottle is done,” Garcia promised with a smirk. The two lovers shared a laugh at their friend’s antics.

Penelope popped open the cork as JJ ran into the kitchen to grab three wine glasses. While the tech analyst poured some into each glass, the blonde returned to her seat behind the older woman and grabbed one glass while using her other to wrap around her girlfriend.

Taking a tentative sip, Emily began, “honestly? I don’t even know where to start. I guess it just hurts. I know it shouldn’t because she was never even there, but it just does.” Penelope’s features softened at the confession while JJ reached up with her free hand and pushed the brunette hair away. She placed a soft kiss on the back of her girlfriend’s neck, causing chills to travel down Emily’s spine.

JJ set her glass down on the table and placed her chin on the older woman’s shoulder, “oh Em, of course it hurts. At the end of the day, she is your mother and of course you want her support.” The peppy woman nodded sympathetically as she took a sip from her glass, “she’s right sweetcheeks. But you have me and goldie locks over here and pretty boy and chocolate thunder and papa-”

Emily cut her off with a laugh, “I know I have you guys. All of you. And I love each and every one of you.” “We love you too,” Penelope took another sip of wine before continuing with a smirk, “maybe one of us more than others.” JJ laughed as she ran her fingers through the brunette hair lovingly, separating it into two sections. Emily closed her eyes and a smile ghosted her lips when she felt her girlfriend start braiding her hair.

Garcia threw back her glass and finished the wine before reaching out to grab the bottle to pour herself another glass before topping off the other two. She brought her legs up and crossed them under herself before reaching out to grab the older woman’s hand. She tilted her head and spoke softly, “you deserve the world E. I know it’s not the same, but you have us, all of us, and we aren’t going anywhere.”

Emily sighed, “I know I do, but I just wish she knew that it wasn’t a choice I can make. Who I love isn’t something I choose. I wish she supported me for once in my life.” As JJ finished off the first braid, she grabbed her glass and took a sip.

After a moment, she set the glass down and began on the other side, “who knows? Maybe all she needs is some time to process it because I think it’s safe to say she definitely wasn’t expecting it. But Em, she doesn’t deserve to be in your life if she doesn’t support you. It’s her loss.”

“I know and I’ll be ok, it just sucked. I mean that’s how I expected her to act, but I had a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, she would support me,” the brunette looked down at her glass, watching as her wine swirled around.

Noticing that her friend was beginning to lose herself in her mind, Penelope tugged on her hand slightly, jarring the older woman from her thoughts, “I don’t care if she’s the Ambassador, next time she pulls a stunt like that, I’m gonna destroy her credit scores and we’ll see what ruins her reputation.”

Emily let out a chuckle before putting her glass up to her lips and taking a few sips, “I love you PG, but there’s no need for that.” Penelope pouted, “aw come on. You’re taking away all my fun.” “Yeah Pen, there’s no need for that,” JJ winked at the tech analyst with a smile on her face as she finished off the second braid.

“Jayje,” Emily warned with a laugh. The blonde threw her hands up and feigned innocence as her girlfriend turned to look at her, “what?” The brunette smirked as she took another sip, “I know that tone, don’t you dare.” JJ let out a bark of laughter, “fine. We won’t do anything.” ”You’re taking away all my fun,” Penelope whined. Emily grinned as she finished off the last of her wine. The tech analyst reached for the bottle and was surprised to find it empty, “we finished it already?”

JJ raised her glass and finished hers off before standing and taking all the empty glasses and bottle to the kitchen. Penelope looked up at Emily, squeezing her hand, “are you sure you’re ok sweetcheeks?” The older woman nodded and squeezed her hands tightly, “thank you.”

“For you? Anytime,” Penelope turned and checked the clock, “it’s almost eleven? Time really does fly doesn’t it? But you’re gonna be ok, we’re all here for you.” “I know. I love you guys,” Emily reminded her with a yawn. The cheerful woman turned towards JJ, who was now walking into the living room, “this one is tired, you better get her to bed before she falls asleep here. I’m gonna head home you two.”

JJ questioned, “are you sure you don’t wanna stay the night?” Penelope shook her head with a smirk, “I’d rather let you two be alone. There is no need for me to hear what you do at night.” Emily became flustered as she turned crimson, “I- Penelope!” The tech analyst squealed with delight as she darted from the couch to the door, avoiding the friendly slap from the brunette.

Emily got up from the couch and walked over to the door with the younger woman in tow. The older woman hugged Penelope tightly, “thank you.” “You don’t need to keep thanking me E. I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” the two broke apart. JJ stepped forward and hugged her friend goodnight before Garcia turned and walked out the door.

Before turning the corner, she called out, “don’t do anything I would do.” Emily let out a chuckle before shutting the door, “sometimes, I wonder what goes through her head.” The corner of JJ’s mouth quirked up, “I guess we’ll never know.”

Emily turned towards the blonde, “thank you.” JJ’s smile faded and she tilted her head in confusion, “for what?” “For being there for me. For not leaving my side. For loving me,” the brunette explained. The younger woman stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Emily’s neck as the older woman gripped her hips, “always.” They both leaned in and shared a soft kiss, beaming as they broke apart.

JJ looked into the auburn eyes that were staring at her, “why don’t we go sleep? I think that was enough for one day, don’t you think?” The older woman nodded and followed her girlfriend to their bedroom where they both got dressed and climbed into bed. Emily opened her arms and JJ crawled into them, resting her head on the brunette’s chest as she listened to her heartbeat.

Their legs tangled together as JJ trailed her hand along the brunette’s side while Emily traced imaginary circles along her girlfriend’s back. The exhaustion from the ordeal hit both women. As JJ was on the verge of sleep, she was able to croak out, “I love you Em,” before her eyes shut and her breathing became even. Emily smiled as she whispered, “I love you too Jayje,” her heart full of love and affection for the woman in her arms, the incident of the day long forgotten.

[byorder-fanfic]

A Ghost Walked Through the Door

Summary: Anna Gray has been looking for her brother for a very long time.

Word count: 2637

Warnings: Mention of foster care and children taken from parents, swearing, implies abuse from Church (nothing explicit) and implies homelessness/ rough childhood.

Author’s Note: In the show, Anna’s age is all over the place so I’ve decided that she is a year older than Michael (born in 1902) because I really like the older sister dynamic. Hope you enjoy xx

Anna stood outside the wooden gate, staring into the typical country garden: green grass (that surely would've been vivid in any other season but the grey winter) that stretched as far as she could see, and slap bang in the middle of it all was the little brick cottage. The fire was lit. Perhaps he was there, the person she had been searching for as long as she escaped the boat. Perhaps this was it- the day she found herself. Her shaking hands did not reach to open up the gate. Not yet. The rusted old car of Jack Low's had clunked its way down the dirt road many minutes ago, leaving behind a trail of smoke and her. She was lucky she had found someone to drive all the way to the front gate, and Jack was quite kinder than she'd expected when she saw the white-haired bloke. It was because of the fur lining her throat and wrists, the newly gained winter's coat showing off a majesty of wealth she did not have. If Jack had noticed the thick chunk of mud clinging to the bottom of her leather boots, or had he clued on to her makeup less face behind her slick bob and fringe, or even saw the dimness of the plastic beads as she rolled them between her calloused fingers, he hadn't asked. Thankfully. Maybe Michael would- he'd probably be impressed with her finery, especially if the farm life was all he knew, and then he'd probably be a bit disappointed with how she acquired each luxurious item.  Finally, her hand (pale and shaking with more than nerves- why hadn't she taken Alberta's gloves that she'd had her eye on?) pried open the gate with a creak, as she walked into the garden. The sound of her quickening breath thrummed in her ears as she kept on going, heels clacking and tangling in the field. She made it to the door. Laughter boomed inside- could it be Michael's? Eagerness overcame her as she rapped on the door, politeness replaced with loud booming knocks that scraped her already bruised knuckles. The voices quieted, a quick "I'll get it!" from a woman. Michael's foster mother, perhaps, would she let Anna see him? The weight of a knife in her pocket proved that hypothetical pointless. Heels tapped closer. And closer. And- the door swung open, Anna's heart nearly burst. She was a portly woman, a warm smile on her face as she observed the girl with evident surprise. "Hello there, can I help you?" She asked kindly, hand still on the door frame. "Yes, please." Her eyes flickered behind her, where photos lined the walls, but she couldn't make out the one face she needed. "Are you Mrs James?" She nodded, yes she was. Another breath fell from her, a smile curling on her lips. The nun hadn't lied, then. "I'm looking for Mich- Henry, I mean. Henry Johnson. Your son, I believe." The other name still seemed so wrong on her tongue. Mrs Johnson's face fell, sadness and suspicion souring the woman's once kind expression. "It's Michael Gray now," she spat out. "Those Shelby bastards took him back to Birmingham with them." Anna breathed in deeply- her entire family was reconciled, all but her. Surely, if they found Michael, that meant they knew about the documents. Fuck. "When was this?" Her voice was meek. Maybe she could stop any real damage before it was done, stop Michael and her mother from mourning a girl still alive. "Two years ago," she said in a solemn voice, her eyes growing glassy. "Why?" "I'm Anna Gray," she stuck out her hand. Mrs Johnson hesitantly accepted it, eyes wide again in shock. "I'm looking for my brother." "Don't." She shook her head. "Those Shelbys are the devils, dragging my boy," she paused, "my Henry, into their Peaky Blinders nonsense. Your Michael...he isn't that boy any more." "He's my brother," she said, trying not to feel too offended at the disgust directed at her cousins. "He's all I have." "Very well," Mrs Johnson conceded, although obviously still disapproving from the look in her eyes. Motherly, Anna would call it, if she even remembered what having a mother was like. "They live in Watery Lane, Small Heath. Everyone there knows them, so just ask for directions." "Thank you!" Without entirely thinking it through, Anna pulled the older woman into a quick hug, pulling away when she felt her tense. "And thank you for looking after my brother all these years. It's good to know he had a good woman taking care of him." She couldn't call Mrs Johnson a mother, although she knew from the grief in her tone and photographs still hung up, that she was exactly that. But her mother was still alive- her loyalty was to Elizabeth Gray, first and foremost, even if she felt pity for this woman here. Just as Mrs Johnson had said, directions to the Shelby's betting shop (now Shelby Company Limited, she was impressed to hear) were easy to come by. Although she was getting odd looks from the men in uniform caps and coats, who were obviously comparing her clothes with that of most Small Heath citizens. Her years of searching were finally over and yet she couldn't find herself to knock on the bloody door. Or even walk down the bloody street. She loitered around the Church, not daring to go in, but not straying from its sight. The rosary in her pocket was wrapped loosely around her battered fist, as she uttered a silent prayer. The nuns and priests from the orphanage had jaded her to all things Christian, but this was a gift from Peggy. The good Catholic girl that took one look at the girl on the streets and decided to befriend her. Well, friend wasn't exactly the right word. She felt a burst of courage at the feeling of the wooden beads now, the crucifix hanging on the end of it no longer bringing vomit up her throat. "Oi, you there!" She jumped at the accent. It wasn't Brummie, sounding closer to Isabela's voice: another girl that friend wasn't the right word for. She looked at the boy, who was lighter skinned that Isabela, and wore the same cap and coat of many men in Small Heath. However, he himself couldn't have been older than Anna. "You coming in, or am I allowed to lock up?" "I'm just leaving," she said. Her voice wasn't from Burmingham either, immediately making the other boys eyebrow to shoot up in suspicion. She didn't really have an accent, just a blend of all the places she'd been and all the people she'd ran from. Despite her statement, her shoes stayed firmly on the path. Michael and mum were just a walk away, and she was stuck outside the Church as the boy faffed with the keys.  "So," he came up behind her, tilting his head. "Just leaving anytime soon, or...?" He had a smirk on his face and a teasing glint in his eyes, that immediately took in her appearance with curiosity, stopping at the rosary. "Just getting courage," she held up the beads before putting them back in her pocket, tapping over it to make sure it was safely in. "Whatdya need courage for?" He asked as he lit up a cigarette, standing stationary besides her. "Need to get to the Shelby betting shop," she shrugged her shoulders, hoping that'd get Church boy to stop asking. She hadn't missed the almost fearful nature her family was spoken in. But not Michael, of course- her Michael wasn't a Shelby. "Oh, really?" The boy put the smoking cigarette in the corner of his smirk. "Cause I'm just going there." She groaned internally, knowing this meant she actually had to go. "Alright," she snapped. "Could you show me the way?" "Course," he held out his elbow like he was a gentleman. Anna didn't stop her self from rolling her eyes as she took it, with only a little smile. "I'm Isaiah Jesus, by the way." "I'm Sally." Only the nuns ever called her that, in an attempt to pacify the girl screaming for her mother. Everyone else called her Anna, and Sallyanna if she was in trouble. "No last name?" "You'll find that out soon enough." For someone who seemed so talkative, Isaiah sure knew when to shut up. "Alright, Ms No Last Name," Isaiah teased as he held open the door, gesturing for her to go inside. "Here we are: Shelby Company Limited's very own betting shop." She was slow as she walked in, head turning to the pale pink wallpaper and the floral sofa. A cross hung up on the wall, alongside a number of Biblical quotes. There was a double set of doors, painted green, that were thrown open. Inside, a crowd of men and woman sat as numbers were called out, typewriters clicking and Peaky Blinders smoking. Isaiah walked past the frozen Anna, welcoming into the shop with cheers of greetings. "Hey there Isaiah!" One boy yelled. He was round faced and freckled, taller than everyone else and skinny as Anna was behind her thick coat. "Who's that you got with you?" "Sally here wanted to come to the betting shop." Isaiah gave a shrug, revealing that was all he knew, as he sat on his desk. Three men looked up from the table: one looked a lot like the skinny boy that had noticed her, but older. Not Michael. The other was broad shouldered and intimidating, with a moustache. Not Michael. The third man had hair as dark as Anna's, with the bluest eyes. But Michael had brown hair, and hazel eyes.  "And why do you want to be here?" The blue eyes man questioned, voice cold. She recognised the three vaguely, mind scanning for facts she once knew as well as the sky was blue. "Tommy?" She asked, eyes squinting, then she pointed to the other two. "And you must be Arthur and John, then." She didn't heed the curious glances as she stepped further in, head turning around to the people staring at her. "Finn, I'm gonna guess, although I never really knew you." The freckled boy had a shocked look on his face, as he turned to Isaiah in a "who the fuck is this" kind of look. "So, where's Michael?" Her voice was stern as she looked around again for the brown hair she only barely remembered.  "And why the fuck do ya wanna know that?" John, Anna thinks, stood up, arms folded as he watched her scan the room. "I've been looking for him for fourteen bloody years," she cocked her head, seeing a light flicker in the blue eyes of her cousin. "Now tell me where the fuck Michael is." Suddenly, a door opened, two sets of shoes walking through as they muttered to one another.  "Mum, there's abso-fucking-loutely no way I'm gonna do that," a voice said as he walked into the betting shop. The round face she remembered had sharpened out, his skin tanned (probably from the farm) in ways she knew her pale skin would've had she gotten onto that boat. His mousy brown hair was tidily gelled up, a smart suit on his broad build. He didn't walk in it like he stole it, she noticed proudly. His hazel eyes widened as he looked at her. The woman at his side was frozen too, watching the betting shop's sudden pause. "Who is this?" The woman snapped, dark eyes falling on Anna. She had the same dark hair, although hers was longer and in curls, and their eyes were just the same. No one could answer for her, and she seemed too absorbed in the two figures in front of her to bother with formalities.  "Anna," Michael's voice was barely a whisper, but is shattered everyone. Next to him, Polly trembled, pale skin suddenly whitening as she started to draw the same comparisons to the baby she had held what felt like a life time ago. "Hiya Mikey," Anna said in the same soft voice she'd use when they were little. She opened up her arms. "You too old to hug your big sister or what?" In a second, her brother fell into her, arms wrapped so tightly around her torso that she thought she was going to suffocate. If the fur on her coat was itching his face, he didn't seem to mind as he pressed his face against her neck, tears spilling from both of them. "I missed you so fucking much," she croaked into his ear, not daring to look up to her mother's broken face, or her cousin's undoubtedly confused faces. "I thought you were dead." Michael sobbed a little, pulling her closer as if to check she was real and not just the ghost Polly used to have nightmares about. "They said you were dead, gone to fucking Australia so I couldn't even see you." "I didn't even get on the boat, Mike. Couldn't leave. Not with you in England." They finally broke away, as Anna allowed her rough hands to wipe away the tears on her little brother's face (not so little anymore) and giving the biggest smile she'd ever worn for the longest time. "Been looking for you for years, been from orphanage to orphanage trying to find Michael Gray. Turns out that wasn't even your fucking name." "You were looking for me?" Michael's voice was an echo, sadder and on the verge of more tears spilling. "Course. Wanted to find you so we could come back home together." She took a dramatic turn of her head, grinning. "Although you didn't seem to share that sentiment, huh?" He tried to chuckle a little, shyly wiping off tears and snot with the sleeve of his probably expensive suit. "Went all the way to the fucking countryside only to be told that I had to go all the way back to Small Heath. Honestly, couldn't have waited a few years for me?" Her teasing tone was second nature, a whisper of the what was. "Bus fare wasn't cheap, you know?" Not that she used the bus. Or paid, with her own money at least. Still, it got another smile on his face as he hugged her again, letting her breathe this time. "Anna?"  The broken voice was enough to get Michael to back away, falling by his sister's side to allow Polly a proper view of the much longed for daughter. "No, it can't be, I thought- they said...but...you were alive this whole time?" She barely whispered, shaking the dark locks of curls with her head. She took a few strides forward, lifting her hand. Despite the great comfort she felt in the woman's presence, she flinched at the sight of the manicured nails being bared. Ever so gently, Polly placed her hand (too cold for comfort, but Anna had felt colder) against Anna's cheek. Bringing another hand slowly up to pull back the dark fringe that covered her forehead. Like this, she could see her wide eyes that had once looked so big on her bald head, the little pout that would tremble when John took her toys, the curves of her face that were so like Michael's, and her dark eyes that could only be Polly's. "My girl, my Sallyanna." "Mum," Anna smiled as she fell into her embrace, letting the woman hold her like she should've done for the last fifteen years. There was no tears this time, just soft smiles and tight arms clinging to each other like she had done when the coppers came knocking. Only she was grown now, and she wouldn't let them take her from her family ever again.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

The CEO’s Little Kitten ~ Jumin Han x Reader

(( I’ve been feeling a bit off for a while now, and MysMes has always been a way to get comfort for +4 years, and replaying’s Zen’s route, along with the fact that my bestie’s birthday is approaching, made me want to come up with some nice for Jumin, where the Reader is a Veterinarian. Yeah, I’m definitely not projecting, I promise, lolol. ))

---

Everyone knew that Jumin loved Elizabeth the 3rd the most in this life, for a lot of reasons, so much that he often called her the partner of his life. On the other hand, the fact that he was never around women was the reason for a lot of false rumours that the other members of the RFA would often abuse and use to wind him up, coming to get a rise out of the otherwise stoic and composed man, but nothing seemed to bother him.

That is, until his father brought another woman with him and tried to convince him to marry this woman’s protejee, and if that wasn’t enough, his cat was behaving oddly, and the Vet was in vacation, so he was a bit frantic, to say the least.

“Mr. Han, if I may, my son has a friend who works at a well known and renowned modern Veterinary clinics. I could give him a call and see if this person is available to come by for a check up on Elizabeth the 3rd.” the chef spoke, making Jumin raise his eyebrow in intrigue. “Very well, let me know when he will come by.” he nodded, going to his room to watch over his cat more.

Barely 2 hours passed, and there was a knock on his bedroom door, and opening the door, the chef was in front of him with a small, fatherly smile.

“Mr. Han, the doctor has arrived.” the chef declared, standing in front of the tall, brunet man. “Tell him to come in.” Jumin spoke dismissively, going back inside the room. “Hello~! Where’s the beautiful little princess~?” a cheerful and sweet, soft voice called out, and a beautiful woman stepped in, dressed in a purple medical scrub, and the blouse had kitten pattern. “I wasn’t aware that a woman was the Veterinarian. My name is Jumin Han, and this is Elizabeth the 3rd.” Jumin extended his hand to her to shake, albeit a bit reticent, as he usually is around women. “It’s great meeting you, Mr. Han. I am Doctor Y/N L/N, you may call me whatever you want. Daniel’s dad mentioned something about this little sweetheart, but I have to know from you directly the reason why you wanted a check up.” she spoke with so much ease, as she went to kneel in front of the bed, next to the cat. “I left her with my assistant for the day, but she hasn’t been eating since I brought her back home. That’s unusual behaviour for her.” Jumin looked at the woman with curiosity as he saw Elizabeth slowly put her her forehead to the doctor’s, and for him, it looked like a picture painted by someone as great as the genius renaissance man, Leonardo da Vinci. “I understand. First of all, I’d like to ask how meticulous are you in taking care of her. Like...Do you give her strictly measured meals at specific times of the day, and only certain brands of food? Or you prefer to let things be estimate or by the eye?” she asked, as the cat jumped on her lap, as she began petting her. “Everything has been measured and chosen by widely renowned nutritionists.” he explained, watching his cat behave more affectionate with this stranger than with most people she’s ever been in contact with. “That makes sense. And when you let her with your assistant, are they are thorough and careful as you are, or do they estimate?” she asked again, helping the cat climb up her torso, as she rested around her neck, like a scarf, and started purring loudly. “I can only guess she wouldn’t be as exact as I am.” he crossed his arms, looking at the content and happy look on his cat’s face, as the woman was scratching her behind the ears. “Have you considered the potential idea that Elizabeth ate too much? For example, if you give her 1 and a half can of food, but your assistant fed her both full cans, not wanting to waste everything, then Elizabeth is way too full to eat again. She needs to digest everything and maybe a bit more exercising.” the woman explained, touching her nose to the cat’s, giggling at how cute she was being. “Are you sure that’s all there is?” Jumin asked again, just to be certain. “Based on the anamnesis and the checking up I did on her, everything is perfect. You’re taking take of her better than 99% of the population of pet owners. Her fur is impeccable, her eyes are shiny and follow me perfectly, her reflexes are great...Maybe we should trip her claws a bit, but that’s no big deal. Other than that...She has the cutest toe beans I’ve seen in a long while.” her voice became a bit more pitched, as she gushed over his cat. “Very well, then thank you for your help. How much do I owe you for your consultation and diagnosis?” he asked in a professional voice. “Owe me? You don’t owe me anything. It’s not like I really did anything. Besides, it’s always a pleasure being able to spend time with such a beautiful princess.” Y/N smiled at the man with a grin that resembled that of his own cat. “That’s rather gracious of you. Let me at least pay for a taxi to whatever destination you’re heading to.” Jumin pressed on, feeling weird seeing someone not taking the money he offered. “Aww, thank you, Mr. Han, but that won’t be necessary. I like to walk around the city quite a lot, it’s relaxing after a long day at the clinic.” she carefully picked up Elizabeth from her shoulders, kissed her head, then gave her to Jumin. “Would it be okay to ask for your business phone number, in case Elizabeth the 3rd needs your assistance again?” he asked, speaking purely business...Or so he wanted to make himself believe. “Oh, sure! I hope I see this gorgeous baby again! I don’t exactly have a separate business phone, but here, this is where you can contact me. I always have my phone with me, so you’ll reach me pretty fast if anything happens.” she took out her phone and gave him her number, leaning in to give the kitten one last kiss on the nose.

The man, for the rest of the day, spent his time playing and cuddling with Elizabeth, pondering over the incredibly strange interaction he had today with this woman.

She didn’t seem anything like any woman he had the misfortune to encounter, all of them gold diggers, either wanting him for his money directly, or to have something to tie them with his company, or with his father...Hell, some were in it for his money AND looks, if that wasn’t bad enough.

Jumin is aware that he was born with great looks, and he has the brains to make that work in his and his company’s favour, getting successful deal after deal, and then ghosting them.

But this woman...This so called Y/N...She was something else.

She didn’t smile brightly and talked sweetly to him out of wanting something, she did all that just because she saw Elizabeth.

She didn’t give him her number because she wanted to pester him with business messages, but because she wanted to see Elizabeth again.

She couldn’t care less about Jumin, she just wanted to do her job...No, rather, her passion.

Jumin could see the love and passion she had from the way her eyes sparkles, and the way her voice became an infinite times gentler and sweeter whenever she’d talk to or about Elizabeth.

This woman was definitely something else, especially because she completely conquered Jumin’s thoughts.

And now he wondered...

He seemed like a generous woman who would like to help others...So if he could get Assistant Kang to join RFA, why shouldn’t he try to get her in the organisation too?

And she quickly agreed as soon as she heard about charities and parties, and suggested giving money for the local animal shelters and the wildlife associations and so on.

As days and weeks passed, a party was successfully held, and Jumin had the pleasure to see how perfectly well Y/N blended in with the other members, and they all loved her, despite being rather timid at the beginning.

After the party, they gathered to a pub, had some drinks and something light to eat, while Y/N, Zen and Seven would sing Karaoke, Jumin would watch them amused, and the two women would take care of a cutely drunk Yoosung.

It was incredibly wholesome and they decided they must definitely do that again some time soon.

Months passed, and Jumin called the woman more often to hang out with Elizabeth and himself, under the pretext of wanting her to check up on the cat, but of course, they’d often hang out and eat together more often than not, with him occasionally walking her home, saying that he didn’t have time to do his 30 minutes of physical exercise.

But things started taking a turn for the worse unexpectedly soon, when, while on a play date with the cat, Y/N received a call from her boss, telling her that she was fired.

“Wait, what?! Wh-Why am I fired? Have I done something wrong?” she walked away from Jumin, speaking in a softer voice, not wanting to bother him. “Not necessarily wrong, but you don’t fit in to our ideology. You accept treating animals for less than the normal sum, and you think everything is a charity. Y/N, I’m sorry, this is a business in the end, and we can’t have charity work for every homeless stray, or any owner who can’t pay for their pet’s treatment. You have a good heart, but we can’t continue like this any further. I’m sorry, you are a fantastic doctor. Good luck in the future.” her boss explained, making the girl nod, putting her arm around herself. “...I understand. I’m sorry for disappointing you. I wish you all the best in the future as well.” she spoke in a voice barely audible, sighing as she hung up and raking her hand through her hair. “Great. That’s exactly what I needed.” she muttered, shaking her head and going back to Jumin as if nothing was wrong.

“Did something happen?” the man asked, realising rather easily that something wasn’t well. “Oh, yeah, all’s cool, don’t worry! More importantly, look how Elizabeth is cuddled up with her toy!” she tried to change the subject, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Was it a call from work?” he was annoyingly perceptive, the girl thought, as she chuckled awkwardly. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” the corner of her mouth twitched upwards for a split second. “So I hit the nail spot on.” he nodded, not sketching any emotion on his face. “They fired me. Said I didn’t treat my job like a business, but like a charity passion. I’ve been doing this for so long, with the only mindset of saving animals that I kept forgetting that...I can’t pay for everyone’s treatments if they can’t afford it, and I can’t take care of all the strays in the world either. I guess I forgot myself and overstepped the line between sensibility and my heart...It’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it?” she laughed weakly, looking down with an embarrassed expression. “I wouldn’t call that pathetic. In the worst case, maybe a bit naive. You have an admirable heart and your intentions are good, it’s obvious that you’re doing your job with love and passion. You remind me of Zen, but you’re less arrogant and annoyingly prideful.” Jumin spoke his opinion, making the girl smile tenderly. “Thank you...You’re really nice, Jumin. Even though you’re a successful businessman, you make an effort to understand someone so different. My dream has always been to become a great doctor and work hard to get enough money to build my own clinic, get funds for high tech equipment and also try to help the animal shelter and take care of all the strays. It’s...A rather unrealistic and childish dream, don’t you think?” she chuckled, shifting her gaze towards the playing cat. “It is incredibly naive and unrealistic, if you don’t have the proper base for a business and know how to negotiate to earn funds and equipment. I can help with that.” Jumin ended his proposition, making the girl frown at him. “I refuse that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you’d be willing to waste your money on someone like me...But...It’s as I said. Wasted money on someone who has no idea what to do with it. And besides...I wouldn’t want you to think that I want your money or something. I want us to be friends. I care a lot about our friendship.” she smiled tenderly at him, which only made the man sigh. “At least you’re not refusing me out of stupid pride. If you are ever in need of a job, Elizabeth’s private doctor position is always open for you.” Jumin nodded at her. “Thank you, Jumin. I’ll keep that in mind. I won’t forget your kindness...But I don’t want to end up like Jaehee, where you have to text her, since you can’t stand her voice anymore. I wouldn’t want to annoy you with just my presence.” she scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “...I’m sure that wouldn’t happen. Anyhow, I know a few great clinics that are willing to employ someone with your energy and knowledge. The least I can do is call them up and recommend you.” the man suggested, which seemed to brighter the expression on her face. “I would greatly appreciate that. Thank you from all my heart for caring about me, Jumin. I mean it, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” she grinned gratefully at him, and for the first time in his life, he felt a heart arrhythmia.

And that’s exactly what he did, and for a while, the girl was more than enthusiastic with everything, but sooner rather than later, the boss realised she was an amazing employee and started abusing her work ours, calling for her more than one shift per day, not allowing her enough time to rest between shifts, not enough time to eat properly or go out with the members of the organisation whenever they managed to match a evening.

Jaehee would call to check up on her, and oftentimes, she’d wake her up in the middle of the afternoon, which is when she was able to get a wink of sleep.

Zen would ask her to post selfies, and it was obvious she was starting to get paler, and she had dark circles around her eyes from the sleep deprivation.

Yoosung asked her if she’s been eating properly, as he thought she was starting to lose weight in an unhealthily way.

Seven asked if she was doing anything else other than overworking herself, as even himself and Jaehee, despite everything, still found time to do some things for themselves too.

And Jumin...

Jumin was the most worried out of them all.

He knew how determined she was to save the little souls she was so fond of, and quickly realised how her kindness could easily be taken advantage of.

He was annoyed with how gentle and soft she was, but in the same way, that’s what intrigued him so much about her.

It only made him want to protect her, especially since he was lowkey blaming himself for recommending her that specific clinic.

So, one day, he found the perfect opportunity to call her, when Elizabeth, once again, stopped eating and was behaving rather lethargically and was coughing, and of course, as soon as she heard about the cat being in distress, she rushed to Jumin’s place without a second thought or suspicion. 

As soon as she entered in his room, he had to gather all the self-control he had not to jump on her and get her in bed, to force her to sleep properly, while he gets her a proper, nutritious meal.

She wasn’t smiling, she wasn’t glowing, she wasn’t vibing, she wasn’t cheering, she wasn’t cuddling Elizabeth, she wasn’t...

She wasn’t okay.

And for some reason, this bothered Jumin a great time, but he wasn’t sure how to address this without offending her or making her uncomfortable.

His interactions with Zen and Jaehee made him understand human behaviour a bit more in-depth than he would otherwise, just from books, so he settled for examining first.

“Okay, so what’s wrong with the little princess?” her voice was weak and soft, as she kneeled down slowly, petting the cat. “She has been rather lazy today, didn’t want to play, and has been coughing frequently.” Jumin’s explanation was simple, but effective. “Fur ball. She has to vomit a fur ball, but can’t. Could you please bring me a tray or something? I wouldn’t want this beautiful white carpet to get dirty with stomach fluids and vomit.” she stretched herself to get her bag, taking out a sort of laxative. “Use this.” Jumin brought the first useless clipboard he found around, putting it on the ground next to her. “Thank you. There, there, darling, it will be alright, don’t worry. I know it’s uncomfortable, but you’ll get better in a second.” after giving her the laxative, she started massaging her belly, helping the cat vomit the fur ball easier. “Great job, sweety, you’re all good to go.” Y/N gave the cat the ghost of a smile, as she got up, albeit, as lethargic as the cat used to be. “Thank you for your time and for taking care of Elizabeth, Y/N. Why don’t you stay over for lunch?” Jumin asked, as he raised the clipboard and put it away, on a desk, not to forget to throw it away. “I’d love to, but maybe next time. I have a triple shift today and it starts in 2 hours. I really appreciate you thinking of me, but...Work.” she sighed, looking away, before giving with a forced smile. “Are you sick, Y/N? You don’t look very healthy to me. Have you gone to do regular check ups?” he asked, trying to think of a proper excuse to stop her from leaving. “Oh, uhm...I didn’t really have the time. Work has been taking most of my time. But I’ll go as soon as the opportunity arises, I promise!” she tried to skip the conversation. “Well, then, I’ll be off! It was great seeing you, Jumin. Elizabeth too, of course! Take care of yourselves!” she waved at them, rushing to leave the room, making sure she closes the door behind her.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to take too many steps, as a vertigo state started taking over her, and she had to stop and lean on the corridor’s wall, only for her vision to get blurry, covered with a myriad of black dots, and then disappearing completely.

She fainted, falling to the ground with a soft thud, the sound being amortised by the fluffy carpet, but it was enough for Jumin to go check up on and sigh at the sight.

He knew something like that was going to happen, yet he was just grateful it happened while in his home, not on the street or something.

Jaehee would sometimes experience vertigo states and faintness while at work, due to overwork and overexhaustion, but this was taken to the extreme.

That woman had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. 

He picked her up with ease, placing her gingerly on his bed, tucking her in, as he took of his blazer, rolling up his shirt sleeves and watching over her.

Usually, fainting would last barely seconds or minutes, but this wasn’t something ordinary. He heard of numerous cases of people sleeping 12, 14, even 16 or more hours, to compensate from the long period of stress and deprivation, so all he could do was wait until she would awaken herself, then give her a light, yet nutritious meal, make sure she hydrates herself...

And never let her do something as stupid as that.

He was going to make sure she doesn’t neglect herself again.

After all, you can’t fulfill your dreams if you are ill or dead, correct?

Jumin took her phone, putting it on silent and disabling all alarms, to make sure she sleeps unbothered, while he’d complete his work in silence and do everything he would do in a day, but as silent as possible.

It melted his heart when he noticed Elizabeth cuddling in the crook of Y/N’s neck, and at that moment, he wished he would take both of them in his arms and just stay there and rest for a while, in complete peace, having no more worries.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he was awoken by a soft cry, which startled him, only to see the girl on the edge of the bed, her head hung, her hands gripping at her unkept yet otherwise beautiful hair.

Frowning in confusion, he got up to sit next to her, putting his arm around her and pulling her to his chest, playing with her hair, as if he was playing with Elizabeth’s fur.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, Jumin. I really am. I bothered you too much already...” she managed to squeak between her sobs. “Nonsense. Is that what was giving you distress?” he asked, in surprise. “That, and...I...Got fired. Again. I told the boss that I fainted and couldn’t come, but she didn’t believe me, so...That’s it. No more job again...And another slap in the face that I’m just a stupid girl who dreams too big, but has no idea how to do anything. I’m just a weak failure who can’t do anything right. You shouldn’t even stay around someone as stupid as me. I’m sorry...” her small form was trembling, and the man could swear the words were hurting him more than were hurting her. “Stop speaking like that. Instead of insulting yourself, solve things. If you can’t solve things by yourself, then ask for help. Everybody needs help sometimes. Nobody was born knowledgeable, and neither was I. My father helped a lot, and more, all the studies that have been taught to me. Like you don’t know know anything about management, I don’t know anything about medicine. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak, and nor does it make you a bother for anyone.” Jumin explained, as the girl hugged him tighter. “But...But...You’re so busy...I don’t want to give you more trouble than needed. I don’t want you to end up like me. My dreams are silly and unrealistic...I couldn’t possibly ask you to support something so stupid and childish as that.” she spoke in a meek, mouse-like voice. “You have no idea how many cat projects I’ve done so far and how much money I lost, because I wanted to glorify my love for Elizabeth the 3rd. I may be 27 years old and I may be the one who’s going to continue my father’s work after he retires, but that doesn’t mean I can’t indulge in my own passions. That’s how it is with you as well. So, Y/N, look at me. Look at me and ask me for help.” Jumin put his hands on her cheeks, raising her head so he could look into her tearful eyes that held a myriad of emotions and doubts. “Can I really be selfish and ask for your help, Jumin?” she managed to ask after having a small internal battle with herself inside her mind. “I wouldn’t offer my help if I wasn’t willing to do it properly.” he leaned in to kiss her forehead, making the girl take a sharp inhale, putting her hands over his, and smiling softly. “Thank you so much, Jumin. I owe you everything.” she whispered, gratefully. “You owe me taking care of yourself. That’s all. Accept the position of Elizabeth the 3rd’s personal Vet, and let me help you out with your dream. It’s not as unrealistic as you think it is, if only you have someone who knows what to do.” he offered, and she could only nod, and this time, her usual bright smile was back on her face, even despite the tears that were still streaming down her face. “Okay, Jumin. I trust you. I will take care of myself...So please help me out.” she said in such a sweet voice, that Jumin, for the first time in his life, had the urge to just grab her face and kiss her, with no regrets. “The deal is settled, then. Tomorrow I have a meeting with a wealthy company from abroad, and we will be staying at a resort by the beach. You’re coming as well, I won’t accept any complaints. I will call Assistant Kang to tell her that I will be leaving Elizabeth the 3rd with her for a few days. If you have appropriate outfits for going at the beach, then we will go pick them up from your place when I go leave Elizabeth with Assistant Kang. If not, we must go buy some.” Jumin got up, explaining everything as he called Jaehee, informing her of everything she must know.

She felt a bit uncomfortable knowing that Jaehee had more work on her hands because of her, but she had to learn to accept that she needed help, and Jumin was willing to offer it, because he was a good friend and he cared about her and her well-being, like nobody ever did.

It was weird being so pampered all the time, not feeling like she deserved it, but even so, her mind was constantly on the man she was living with, and even more, tomorrow was a big day.

She tried out a few swim suits, sundresses, hates, sunglasses and slippers, all the perfect clothes for going at the beach at a private resort and enjoying the cool ocean and the hot sun.

Y/N spent most of the flight sleeping on Jumin’s shoulder while listening to music on her phone, and he fell asleep with his head leaning on hers, as they arrived early morning, and went to have a great breakfast.

As the meeting started at noon sharp, Y/N spent the whole afternoon walking around the shore, with her feet in the water, listening to the waves breaking and the tranquil atmosphere, along with the ocean breeze and the sun rays were making her feel revitalised like never before.

She felt alive, after so long.

Hours passed without her even realising, and Jumin appeared in front of her bringing two cocktails on the beach lounge chairs, and she rushed to him.

“How was it? Everything alright?” she asked, taking a sip of the ice-cold strawberry drink. “Of course it did. But that isn’t the most important thing now. I see you’re rather happy. You’re not as pale as you used to be just two days ago either. I’m glad.” he said, causing another wide grin to spread on her face. “Well, it’s thanks to you, after all. You gave me the opportunity and helped revive me. I haven’t been out in the sun for a long while...And now...Well, I finally remember what it’s like to relax.” her smile was contagious, as Jumin started smiling a bit as well, until their phones started beeping and they saw the other members were chatting about the girl.

Yoosung: Is she okay?! I’ve been trying to text her all yesterday, but there was no sign :( Zen: Yeah, me too. This place has been kinda quiet without her. 707: I just tracked her location and... 707: She’s at an exotic resort?! lol?! Zen: ?!?!?! Yoosung: HUH?! Jaehee Kang: Let me explain. Zen: Jaehee, you know what happened with Y/N? Jaehee Kang: Not everything, but just some bits that I picked up from Mr. Han. Zen: What does Trust Fund Kid have to do with Y/N’s disappearance?! 707: LOLOLOL Y/N AND JUMIN ARE IN THE SAME PLACE, RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER!!! Yoosung: *Gasp sticker* Zen: SAY WHAT NOW?! Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han took Y/N with him on his business trip, saying that she needs a break from work. You all know how bad she was doing. Yesterday especially, she fainted from overwork and exhaustion, got fired, and Mr. Han offered her a job and said he’d make sure she’s okay.  Jaehee Kang: That’s the brief summary of what I pieced together. Yoosung: Y/N!!! If you see these messages, please tell us you’re feeling better!! I’m very happy that Jumin was so nice to help you out! Zen: ...That’s shocking. To think that Silver Spoon would do something like that for someone. That’s amazing. 707: Jumin, won’t you take me on a beach business trip too?! I feel my skin drying from the lack of sun too!! Zen: Jeez, don’t whine like that, do something about it.  707: lololol. Anyway, it’s not that shocking that Jumin did something like that for Y/N. I mean, he offered Zen some deals too. Didn’t he tell Yoosung that he’d hire him, if he gets good grades too? Jaehee Kang: Oh dear... Jumin Han: All you know to do is to gossip all day long. Don’t you have anything better to do? Jumin Han: Also, Y/N is just fine. And yes, she’s next to me. Y/N: Yep! I’m doing infinitely better than before. Thank you so much for worrying about me, I promise I will take care of myself from now on!! Y/N: *sent a selfie*

Y/N then got next to Jumin, taking off her sunglasses and gluing her cheek to his, grinning, one arm around his torso, to help herself stand on her tippy toes and reach his level, while the other was used to take a selfie.

Zen: Ohh, your dark circles are starting to disappear! And your skin isn’t as deathly pale! Y/N: Yeahh, I spent the whole day outside in the sun. It is incredibly refreshing. Yoosung: I hope you’re having fun at the beach! Did you get to swim yet? Y/N: No, not yet, but tomorrow it’s going to be even hotter than today, so I’ll definitely enjoy the water then! Jaehee Kang: Y/N...You look happy. I’m glad to see you smiling again. And you made Mr. Han smile too...That’s quite the feat. Y/N: ??? What do you mean? Jumin has a beautiful smile! Zen: Not more beautiful than mine, surely!  Zen: *sent a selfie* Jaehee Kang: I have been cleansed... 707: lololol here we go again. Y/N: You have a beautiful smile, Zen. But Jumin’s smiles are pure and rare, like the first snowdrop of Spring. Jumin: *smile sticker* Jumin: You heard her. Zen: *angry sticker* Zen: Did you steal her phone and write that yourself or what?! Jumin: No. Jumin: *sent a picture* Jumin: She’s by the shore, I’m still on the lounge chair.

Jumin took a picture of the girl who was staying with her feet in the water ankle-deep, looking into the horizon as the sun was setting and the sky was painted with all the colours of the twilight by angels. He could only look at how gorgeous she looked as she had her hands on her hat, to make sure the breeze won’t fly it away, and the way her sundress was gently swaying in the wind.

Yoosung: Ohhh, so pretty! I’d like to go on holiday to a place like that too, one day! Y/N: OMG Jumin!! Y/N: *embarrassed sticker*

Before she realised, Jumin was behind her, startling her unwillingly, as he prowled silently, like a feline.

“D-Don’t startle me like that!” she chuckled weakly, putting her hand on her chest where her heart would be. “That was not my intention. I just wanted to see you up up close again. The picture came up beautiful.” he said, taking off her sunglasses and hanging them from his Tshirt neck, loving to see all the emotions that her eyes betray so innocently. “I-I don’t know how to respond to that.” the girl blushed softly, looking away, trying to hide her face with the long ends of the hat. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad that I can see you smile again...For me. You make my day brighter than this sun does. And I’m happy that you’re finally willing to rely on me to help you with your dream.” he smiled softly, putting a hand on her face, lifting her face up. “If I can make you happy, then I’m happy as well. Jumin, I...I love you. I know I said I didn’t want thing to be weird between us, but...I had to tell you. You deserve to know my feelings for you. They have been there for a while...” she closed her eyes, blushing even harder, only to make the man smile at her. “Good. Now that I know my feelings for you are reciprocated, I don’t have to stop myself from doing this.” Jumin hummed slightly, leaning down to capture the girl’s soft lips with his, giving her a sweet, gentle kiss, only for her to put her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

But then, the phones started beeping like crazy, startling and confusing the girl, until she looked at the chat and gasped, hiding her face with her hat.

“WHEN-...?! WHY?! H O W?!” she chirped in embarrassment, seeing a picture of them kissing in the group chat, while everyone was commenting on it. “If Zen wants to show off all the time, then why shouldn’t I as well?” he smirked softly, kissing her forehead to calm her down. “Y-You...Just...I don’t know how to reply to that either. You’re really something else.” she sighed dramatically, before chuckling and hugging him. “When you smile like that, you remind me of a kitten. And now you’re cuddling me like one. How cute.” he mused, putting his arms around her. “I love you.”

[mysmedrabbles]

RFA in Quarantine

requested: by my last braincell

a/n: .......lmao I’m back i guess, hope everyone is staying safe

warnings: coronavirus and depression mention

-on the brink of insanity mod alex

Jumin

-of course he realizes the extent of the issue with the virus, but he’s one of the last employers to give his workers paid leave. 

-even so, he’s prompt to send everyone down the chain of command specific instructions for their departments and strict deadlines that they must adhere to

-this is the only thing keeping him from going insane

-hates it at home, he hates the solitude, hates being trapped, and not even Elizabeth the III is enough to keep him company

-tries to see this from a logical point of view, and uses this time to learn new things, pick up another language, take online enrichment classes... as trivial as they seem to him he still insists on doing something, anything to keep his mind sharp

-reads a lot

-starts to pick up cooking (due to his staff being under quarantine), but his cleaning skills leave something to be desired

-you can slowly start to see him slip up in the rfa groupchat, acting seemingly more relaxed...or maybe it’s closer to insanity

Jaehee

-she’ll never admit it to anyone, but she prefers being at home, even with her same amount of workload, maybe even more, but getting to set her own working hours has her smiling more, letting her take her time in the morning

-home workouts, you can’t convince me otherwise

-also reads a significant amount more! everything from dumb YA novels to nonfiction and classics, she takes full advantage of online library services 

-she doesn't know what to do with herself after a while

-doesn’t like staying inside, but knows it’s important to do so in order to keep not only her but everyone around her safe

-she’s the one that’ll yell at the other members if they dare to step foot outside

-finally has time to take care of her previously struggling plants, and they start to thrive within a short amount of time

-grows her hair out- she knows she’ll have to cut it again once this is all over but she enjoys waking up and messing with it, feeling not only joy but also pride when her hair gets long enough to tie back into a ponytail

Yoosung

-you’d think this would be a gamers paradise, not having to go outside and being able to focus on LOLOL alone 

-wrong

-detests online classes, trudging out of bed and into his living room with muttered complaints as he logs into his schools server, ready to video chat with his teachers. Falls asleep the second class is over, most of the time falling limp to the ground in exhaustion

-self isolation... not good for him. not only does it make him more anxious than ever the threat of his parents and sisters safety on the line, but being alone for so long only capitalizes on the fear of abandonment he had felt after Rika’s death, and not getting to see his friends plunges him into a pit of depression

-struggles to do more than aimlessly do his homework and log onto LOLOL, the stress of coronavirus keeping him up and worrying

-h..he....an-he p-hhhh-animal crossing

Saeyoung

-while there has technically been no change in his physical lifestyle, there definitely has in his mental health

-how is he supposed to protect the RFA from something he can’t even see?

-this thought sends him into a panic, and his helplessness is only furthered by his lack of knowledge in general medicine. he wasn’t trained for this. 

-starts to isolate himself from the group, and bury himself in more work than ever before

-however, less people on the streets, less human activity... less clients... less victims

-for the first time in what seemed his whole life he finished everything he had for work, and this realization brought him to a crashing halt. with nothing to occupy his mind he found himself more alone than ever before, old memories and feelings from his childhood returning, flashbacks seemingly around every corner. 

-however, like Jumin, he knows he needs to keep his mind sharp and working, and finds himself talking to the man more and more as quarantine goes on, an unlikely friendship blossoming where nothing seemed to exist. 

-slowly he starts to integrate himself back into the RFA, and comes out the other end with a stronger bond with everyone. 

-occupies his newfound time with finally getting to work on his cars, even starting to build a few from scratch

-his only other serious pastime is his challenge to himself to watch the Bee Movie every day for as long as the quarantine lasts. (that and watch every sci-fi film on Netflix) 

-starts to learn how to cook... without honey buddha chips and doctor pepper

-he’s shit at it but at least he tries

Zen

-instagram live

-he feels guilty, everyone that had bought tickets to his upcoming show had to get their money refunded, the show being cancelled until further notice. 

-just out of curiosity, he tries his hand at writing down ideas for a play, a mashup of two things he’d done in the past

-what started off as a curiosity to see what would happen if he let his own imagination run with an idea instead of letting the idea run his imagination, became a hobby, writing short skits here are there, nothing more than 

-he...he - djhfks- hhhheee he tiktok he... he tiktok

-does mostly original content, using it as an outlet for his creativity, and finds it simpler than youtube (he’s not much into the production side of filming as much as he is with the creativity side of it)

-he really likes the dances though! he finds them fairly laggy and too simple in their movements, but they give him an excuse to work out and awe the lads and ladies all in one

-is forced to order a treadmill, his lack of exercise getting to him. it doesn’t make up for the fresh air he misses so dearly, but it’s something

-it takes all his strength to stop drinking, fear for his shape and physical condition stopping him from becoming a borderline alcoholic

-as much as he hates to admit it, quarantine is isolating... as it should be of course, but to him being cut off from the rest of the world was something he could barely handle

-skyping jaehee and doing home exercises together

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

First Meetings - Arthur Morgan/Elizabeth McGill

Series: Call it Fate or Call it Chance 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Elizabeth McGill (Plus size, Female OC) 

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Summary: Arthur Morgan hears someone in distress in the woods and goes to help. It’s a small world though and soon finds himself meeting a friend of one of his acquaintances. Little does he know it’s the start of a relationship that might just change his fate.  

Warning: Talks of hunting, wolves get killed because they’re trying to eat OC, sorry! Talks of canon character death, spoilers? 

Rating: T

Notes: So, I don’t have the energy these days to write a full fic, but I figured if I write a series of interconnecting one-shots then I can write for these two, get the story there, but without needed them all to lead off from one another like chapters. This series will document that relationship between Arthur Morgan and Elizabeth McGill, a plus size, English OC of mine who’s basically the online character but with less of the outlaw stuff. I hope you love her as much as I do and I hope you enjoy this first part in the series.

Archiveofourown

I’m always happy for requests, suggestions, prompts, questions about this two even if my normal requests are closed. Feel free to draw my characters, feel free to write stuff for them, feel free to ask me questions about them. 

“Oh, go away you bloody little blighters! Shoo! I said shoo!” Arthur heard the call over all else, a lilting English accent, soft but scolding, like a mother to a troublesome child. He shifts Dave, the large black shire who he’d allowed Jack to name, forward, just breaching the tree line to see a woman standing on the lower branch of a tree, arms wrapped around the trunk. Wolves circled the base, baying, waiting, biding their time, hoping she’d slip. They were so entirely focused on her that they gave Arthur and the large horse no mind, not caring much for them at the moment. Clearly they had decided this woman was dinner and had some sort of spiteful vendetta, if wolves could feel spite that is. 

She was a plump thing, short in height, round in figure with dark chestnut hair piled high in a gibson style pompadour atop her head. Her cheeks were rouged and her lips painted a poppy red, heavy skirt falling around her feet, kicking up every now and then as a wolf attempted to jump high enough to reach her, to try for a bite. He watched her kick one a way, a well aimed kick that set the wolf flopping to the ground with a yelp before it got back up again growling. A pretty thing, for sure. 

Elizabeth McGill very rarely cursed out her horse, Scrawny, but today she was certainly doing so, mentally of course. She loved her big, doofus of a horse, the gypsy cob was anything but scrawny and he was gentle natured. He was, however, a coward when it came to wolves. He had bucked her so hard she’d lost her glasses, and in her haste to climb a tree hadn’t been able to find them again. If she could see she’d just shoot the bloody wolves circling her, unfortunately, she was blind as a, well, person without her glasses, and she did not trust that she’d hit a single one. She was usually a fine shot, hunting had become part of her trade, but...she usually could see while doing it. It also didn’t help that Scrawny had run off with all but her revolver, leaving her there. His loyalty was astounding. 

“Y’alright, miss?” She can’t see much, just a blurry shape at the edge of the trees, big enough to be a man on a horse, big and dark coloured. The voice is deep, a heavy southern drawl that is pleasant on the ears, even more so because she’s been waiting desperately for a helping hand. 

“I could do with a little assistance, sir!” She was usually the one helping others, but today, the tables had turned and she was not going to turn down the one person who’d arrived in the last half hour. She was fed up of clinging to a tree trunk especially in a heavy autumn skirt. She hadn’t been planning on hunting that day, she’d already done quite enough on the journey down from the Adler Ranch and had been close to Valentine, expecting to simply sell the pelts, teeth, claws, and the like that she’d gathered. Her first mistake was expecting a simple, calm journey of course. Things never were simple or calm, if it wasn’t a cougar attempting to eat her, an ambush by some local gang, or some fellow in need of help, then it was bad weather or snakes. The latter of which Scrawny hated even more than wolves, if that was possible. 

She didn’t so much as watch the man circle around on his horse, shooting the wolves, as much as squint ineffectively and listen to the sound of hooves clipping the dirt, snorts from a remarkably brave horse, and the dying yelps of wolves. Part of her was envious that Scrawny wasn’t that brave, had he been she could have easily dealt with the wolves herself and never ended up in this damnable tree.

“You can come down now, miss.” The man proffers a hand and Elizabeth takes it using its strength and a hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as she clambers down from her perch, she’s still blind and the help is appreciated. She doesn’t doubt that she’d easily take quite the tumble without guidance. He is nothing if not respectful, the other hand that rests at her waist to help down is placed just so as not to cause offence and is removed the moment her feet are on stable ground. 

What he truly notices is just how short she really is, now she’s beside him her head barely comes to his shoulder. He feels suddenly too imposing, large, and feels the urge to make himself smaller if only to appear less intimidating. 

“I...thank you, do you happen to see a pair of spectacles on the ground? My horse bucked me and I lost them...otherwise I would have handled the wolves myself but, i’m rather blind like this.” Arthur finally notices the way her hazel eyes don’t quite focus on him or her surroundings, when he speaks she can’t quite look him in the eye, but instead moves her gaze around as if trying to. Her squint is also more noticeable all of a sudden and he finds himself hastening to find her spectacles, looking across the ground careful to mind his step. 

“You probably shouldn’t go telling strange men that, ma’am, some might take advantage.” He doesn’t say it to be intimidating or the like, simply out of concern. She clearly couldn’t see well without them and a lesser man, someone like Micah, would surely take advantage. Her trust in him is refreshing but concerning at the same time. He, after all, does not consider himself to be a good man.

“Well, it’s a good thing that a gentleman like yourself happened by instead then, Mr…?” She knows he is concerned for her, she is sure like many men before he thinks her too naïve, too sweet, and perhaps he isn’t wrong on some of those counts. But, she preferred not to live life assuming the worst of everyone, even if people tended to prove that they were indeed rather rotten inside. The amount of strangers in need of help she’d stopped by only to be ambushed was rather alarming at times. But, she did pride herself on her own ability to look after herself, except when she found herself without her glasses. 

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan.” 

“Elizabeth McGill, a pleasure. Thank you, for stopping. I might have been up there for hours otherwise, until they got bored that is, but...I’ve known wolves to bide their time.” She pretends to help because really her running her hands along the grass isn’t doing much, she can’t see after all. 

“Uh, here, Miss McGill, your glasses.” He finds them a ways away from the tree, far enough that he knows she’d have never found them on her own. They’re round and surprisingly unbroken which he is oddly relieved to see for a man not at all invested in them. He passes them to her, watches them change the shape of her face, the clarity coming to her eyes as she blinks up at him with a soft smile. They suit her, feel like something she’s supposed to be wearing, not something that she has to wear. 

For the first time Elizabeth can see her saviour clearly and the man certainly impressed. He was tall, that she already knew even without her glasses, and he was broad, strong, the sort of man that could clearly lift a heavy weight, tackle a man to the ground or hold his own in a fist fight. Mr Morgan had a weathered, but handsome face, little freckles marked his skin, signs of spending time in the sun, his beard was long but neat, but most striking of all were his eyes. He had the most gentle bluish-green eyes she’d seen on a man of his size. 

“You gonna be okay? Your horse still around?” His brows pulled together in the middle out of concern and she found herself smiling at him without much thought. He had been kinder to her in the last 15 minutes than most people were. It warmed her heart just a little more. 

“He’ll be around,” She stops and whistles, sharp, and high. Clear as crystal, and waits a few beats before whistling again. This time Arthur can hear the sound of heavy hooves galloping forward and moves just in time to avoid a large palomino gypsy cob that comes careening out from behind some trees. The horse is lumbering and large as any draft horse is, white and cream dappled coat, dirty from his escape. His hindquarters are covered in pelts, more pelts than Arthur has ever seen, and it’s clear to him that this Miss McGill is a skilled hunter and, if not for her spectacle issue, would have been just fine on her own. It changes his opinion of her, shapes it from a naive, delicate woman, to someone more capable, though still seemingly sweet and lady-like. If possible his interest in her peaked further. 

She places her hands on her wide hips, scowling up at the horse, who’s nodding his head up and down at her in greeting with little nickering sounds, “Scrawny. I hope you know I’m terribly disappointed in you. Leaving me like that. I thought we agreed we were going to work on this wolf phobia of yours, or were you just conning me out of all those oatcakes?”

The horse huffs in a decidedly human way that makes Arthur grin, he doesn’t doubt the big thing had been making away with as many oatcakes as possible with absolutely no understanding or intention of facing a pack of wolves anytime soon.

“You’re lucky that kind Mr Morgan here was happy to help, what would you do if I was eaten by a ferocious pack of wolves?” The horse nickers and presses his large head against her, bumping into her hard enough for her to let out an ouph and take a few steps back. Her back hitting Arthur’s chest, he raised his hands to the tops of her arms to steady her before taking a polite step back, aware he could easily crowd her. 

“I was just doing what anyone would, Miss McGill.” She turns to raise an eyebrow at his words and he feels decidedly admonished before she’s even parted those red lips.

“I think we both know that’s not true, Mr Morgan. I’ve stopped to help enough people who’ve turned a gun on me to know that you are one of a small minority of good folk, whether you want to believe you are or not.” She watches him rub the back of his neck, worn hat tilting forward to hide half his face, but she can still see the beginning flush to his skin from the attention and the creeping little smile twisting at the corners of his mouth. It makes her smile in return, this large, imposing man, bashful at a little compliment like that. 

“What are you doing out here anyways, Miss?”

“I just came down from the mountains. I was visiting a friend who...well, she wasn’t there and her...her husband was dead.” There is a shaky pause, he can see her hand trembling slightly at the thought of her friend and her husband before she bunches it up in her skirt, “Did some hunting on the way down, figured I'd make my usual stop in Valentine to Ted, the butcher, usually gives me a fair price for the things I bring him.” 

Elizabeth can still see poor Jake’s face, cold, frozen solid in the back of a wagon. Some animals had gotten to him before he’d frozen completely and she’d spent a whole day just digging him a grave, hard work considering the ground was almost completely solid itself. But she couldn’t leave him like that and she knew he’d prefer being buried on his own property to burned or some such. She still had blisters on her palms from the digging, despite gloves the hard work had rubbed her hands raw. Made it a tad more difficult to hunt on the way down with her bow, but she’d managed. 

“What was your friend's name?”

“Mrs Adler, Sadie Adler. Used to do jobs for her and her husband when I visited...why?”

“Well, it’s a small world, Miss McGill.” He looks almost surprised at the name she’d thrown out, before smiling at her softly and elaborating, “Me and my friends, we found her oh about...3 weeks back? She was in a pretty bad state, but she’s been with us since. Awful business that with her husband, some O’Driscolls killed him.” Arthur looks apologetic and it soothes her distress to know that at least Sadie is safe, that at least despite all the bad luck in the world something had gone right for her. She hadn’t been found by someone else, someone who would hurt her and that was a small blessing in a world full of problems and bad people. 

“You and your friends?” It’s said with a raised eyebrow and all he can do is rub the back of his neck and look away from her. It doesn’t feel right to lie to her, when she clearly suspects his friends aren’t just his drinking buddies. But, he’s not entirely sure if he can trust her. She seems nice enough, but plenty of people seem nice enough till they find out you have a bounty on your head. Not that Elizabeth could take him in, he doubts given the sheer difference in size that she’d manage it on her own. But, he wouldn’t put it past her to try...if she were so inclined. To him she seems both gentle, delicate, and formidable, words that seem like they shouldn’t work together until you look at her. 

“Well…”

“Relax, Mr Morgan. I understand.” She does, she’s known enough ‘gangs’ of ‘outlaws’ to know that not all are as bad or dishonourable as they seem and that the need to protect their made family was great. She had her suspicions but if they had helped Sadie as Arthur had helped her then she had little doubt that they were the honourable sort of outlaw that she had little problem with. So long as innocent people weren’t getting hurt and the poor weren’t being robbed from she had few objections, even if she personally wasn’t comfortable with robbing or lying, herself. 

The world was a harsh place, few could support themselves on simple law abiding trades like hunting. She was lucky in that respect. One mouth to feed was different to 20. 

“Could I...I hesitate to ask, after all you’ve done for me, Mr Morgan...but could I see her? I...I can’t imagine what she’s going through and I’d like her to know Jake had a proper burial. I did rites and all. She deserves to know.” She twists her hands together, nervous of his answer. She could understand if he said no, he clearly needed to protect his gang and she was a stranger to him. But, she wanted to see her friend and most of all she wanted her friend to know that Jake wasn’t left out there to be eaten or for someone else to find. She’d even managed to gather some of Sadie’s things from the ranch in the end. Photos and trinkets that she’d hoped at the time to be able to give her if she was still alive. 

Arthur rubbed a large scarred hand across his beard, the hairs scratching at his skin as he looked at her. She was small in stature, soft in body, and those hazel eyes held honest intentions. Taking her back to camp wasn’t without risk, but a liar knew a liar when he saw one. She didn’t care about his gang, she wasn’t hunting them down for a fat bounty, she just wanted to see her friend and after everything Mrs Adler had been through he thought she might want to see her friend too. 

With a deep sigh and a quick thought that he hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake, Arthur pulled the black bandana from his back pocket. “I’d have to blindfold you, Miss...I gotta...I gotta protect them and I can’t be havin’ you know where we’re at. You understand?”

She could walk away, that was the offer. Be blindfolded by this stranger, this tall, broad, imposing figure or walk away. It was an easy decision to make. He was large and he was imposing, but the gentle way he held out the piece of cloth, the soft furrow to his brow, the way he hunched his shoulders to look smaller, all those things told her he was a good man. Not a pure man, not devoid of wrongdoing or bad deeds, but good in the sort of way that a man out here could be good. She would be safe with him. She could trust his intentions towards her. 

“I understand, Mr Morgan.” She consents taking the fabric from him, it is softer than she expects, “Before we go, I'd suggest we skin those wolves. Your camp needs food I'm sure and those pelts’ll fetch you a good bit of coin, waste not want not.”

“Are you sure?” She’s the hunter after all, or it seems that way and part of Arthur can’t help but feel like she’d have done just fine without him had her glasses not been knocked off. Maybe, she’d been wanting to hunt the four wolves in the first place. He doesn’t want to offend her by taking what she might see as hers, but she just gives him another one of those looks that reminds him of a prettier, younger, much more amicable Ms. Grimshaw. 

 “Mr Morgan, you shot them, they’re yours to plunder. I have enough bloody pelts as it is, Scrawny here would probably complain if he had a few more to carry, right boy?” As if in answer the big cob nods his head up and down with a huff, clearly used to be used as a pack horse. He’s not sure the horse really understands the question, but it’s clear he’s a responsive horse used to a talkative owner, not like Dave who’s stood quietly behind Arthur, only occasionally nudging him with his nose and nibbling at strands of his hair as if expecting a sugar cube to be there. 

“Well, if you’re sure…” She helps him skin them, while she hadn’t intended to do any skinning today and her blouse would certainly hate her for it, sharing the work would make it go quicker and she could offer a few tips as they went. Not much seeing as Mr Morgan was already a skilled hunter by the looks of things. The pelts were in fine condition, he was clearly a good shot, one rifle round to each wolf’s head, no mess, no unnecessary injuries or wasted ammunition. While they had wanted to kill her, she held a healthy respect for wolves and was glad that they didn’t die slowly. Quickly, cleanly, and humanely, something she held dear when it came to hunting. 

Elizabeth grabbed a ratty cloth from her saddlebag, using it and some water from a canteen to clean her arms, it was never smart to leave blood on you and it wasn’t particularly nice either. She offered both to Arthur who gladly did the same, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, thick forearms being cleaned of blood. It was startling to her in that moment that she didn’t feel scared or worried at all. Here she was in the woods with a stranger, a broad, striking and clearly strong stranger, who had multiple guns, a hunting knife, and a bow all on hand. Yet, she didn’t feel a lick of apprehension or worry. 

“Who’s this beautiful boy then?” There was a split second when Arthur, despite himself, almost thought she was talking to him. That was clearly not the case when he looked up startled to see her approaching Dave. The large shire usually disliked others, but was only watching the woman cautiously, deciding whether to bite, kick, or con her out of some food. When Hosea had given him the large beast claiming he was hard to handle and that he’d be better off selling him, something in Arthur had understood. The horse was a bit like him, he was a bit world weary, cautious of others, afraid of getting hurt, but underneath it all a soft hearted thing. 

“...Dave.” He wished in that moment that he hadn’t allowed Jack to name the shire, he loved Dave. Had bonded well with him, but telling a pretty lady that your horse was named Dave rather than Boadicea was a might embarrassing especially when that horse was 17 hands high and capable of trampling wolves underfoot. 

“He’s beautiful.” She likes his name, not that she says that, but it’s clear from the flush to Arthur’s cheeks that he’s not confident in the name choice. She thinks it suits. The shire is beautiful, giant compared to her and larger than Scrawny who was an impressive 15 hands high, especially considering his breed. The Shire pawed at the ground as she got closer, but she hushed him, little quiet comments and soothing sounds, a hand pulling a sugar cube from a skirt pocket. 

There was always something special about getting a horse like that to trust you, to eat from your palm and accept the touch of your hand to their neck. Dave was clearly a distrusting animal, but he let her pat his neck and brush his forehead. He let her tie Scrawny’s reins to his saddlehorn knowing she couldn’t guide herself blindfolded. 

“He don’t usually take to people too well…”

“Well, he just needs a kind touch that’s all. Someone hurt him real bad and he just needs to know that won’t happen again, right, sweetheart?” She says to the horse in a gentle tone, low and quiet. Arthur feels as if she’s talking about him, he thinks on the times he’s been bitten, the way he’s drawn back from people and he understands a little bit more why he and Dave work so well together. They’re two sides of the same damn coin and this woman had a way with both of them already. 

She takes a few steps back, before turning and clambering up into her own saddle. Despite the sheer size of her own horse, she manages well enough to clamber on up even in a thick, heavy skirt. She settles herself, arranges her skirt and takes those delicate round spectacles off and pockets them before grabbing the fabric he’d given her. 

“You’ll make sure Scrawny doesn’t run into any trees?” 

“I got you, miss. Don’t you worry.” It’s with that that Elizabeth wraps the blindfold around her eyes and tightens it at the back of her head, hand holding onto the saddlehorn as they begin to move. 

Arthur cannot help but be a little bit in awe at the trust she has decided to place in him.

[marta-bee]

On Fanworks as Commodities

I've been thinking lately about commodification and how it applies to fandom.

 At the risk of giving an unhelpful circular explanation, commodification just means treating something like a commodity when it really isn't. And by commodity, I mean the kind of good or service that it's the kind of thing we can "reduce" to market terms. A loaf of bread is a commodity. So is a house or the services of an accountant- you're not losing anything or "debasing" anyone when you suggest these things can be bought and sold.

 But what about surrogacy pregnancy? This is the question Elizabeth Anderson asked in her philosophy paper, "Is Women's Labor a Commodity?" (This is where I first encountered the concept.) She asks what exactly is being sold when we pay a woman to go through a pregnancy and then give up the resulting child to someone else. Anderson said if it's the child that's being sold that seems obviously inappropriate- we rightly consider a human person as the kind of thing you can't just buy and sell- but she also argued even if the woman is just selling the use of her body for a period of time (say, implantation and surrogacy pregnancy of a fetus conceived through in vitro fertilization of the adults who will become the legal parents), there's still something lost. The argument is, pregnancy naturally (at least usually) forms a loving bond between mother and child, which a surrogate woman would wisely try to avoid; otherwise giving up the baby would be that much harder. In effect, it encourages her to alienate herself from the products of her pregnancy. It degrades the commercial surrogate, turns her into an emotionless, contextless factory. And it degrades women who might lovingly serve as surrogates (say, for a sister or friend) because it turns their gift into something indistinguishable from a market transaction.

 That's the argument, anyway. Once I found it convincing but these days, I have my doubts. For instance, I don't see any problem saying commercial surrogacy is a different kind of process than surrogacy offered as a gift to someone you know. Even if the result is the same, they seem like very different beasts. I'm also uncomfortable with this idea that certain kinds of work just can't be ethically paid for. Because this usually comes up with "caring" work, which is most often done by women even these days, it becomes too easy to not help bear the costs of that work. We can expect, say, a nurse to care about her patient even though she's paid a salary; is it so wrong if a child who quits her job to care for a sick parent to also be paid for her sacrifice?

 That's more a criticism of how the concept is applied, though. I think it's applied too quickly, and in ways that turn it into an either/or, where this doesn't need to be the case. I still think the basic idea has a lot going for it. We do give the market too much power to answer questions it really isn't well suited for. Healthcare, for instance; it needs to be paid for, but not in a way that keeps people from accessing it who need it, or even lets those who can pay get to it more quickly. And maybe market pressures can make it more efficient, to a point, but we really shouldn't reduce it to something that can be bought and sold and understand entirely on those terms.

So, what does all this have to do with fandom? Well, I'm of a different fannish generation than a lot of you young whippersnappers- I first got involved in fannish circles with the Lord of the Rings movies back in the original 2000s. This was pre-AO3 and pre-Tumblr, and only a few years after Anne Rice got ff.net to disallow all fanfic based on her novels. We posted our disclaimers about not owning the characters for a reason and professed our poverty because we believed (or feared at least) we could be sued by the canon's authors. I was mostly in the Tolkien fandom, and it was well known that the estate was never going to authorize fanfic, commercial or otherwise. They state as much on their website, though I can't remember how long that Q&A has existed in its current format.

 That gave us a lovely little commercial-free zone. If you couldn't sell your own work commercially, then you could give up all pretenses of success along the normal capitalistic lines and delve into areas that just would never have been very marketable in traditional publishing. Tolkien fandom itself was pretty conservative but I know other fandoms went much further in this regard, exploring genres that just would never be marketable especially before the niche and self-financed publishing the internet opened up for a lot of authors. If the law wouldn't let you do what you wanted to do anyway, why not become utterly ungovernable? So, fanfic became (for me at least) art about art rather than filthy lucre. We were doing what we did because we loved it, and as gifts for our friends, and as a way to be something that wasn't quite allowed in the "normal" culture for whatever reason- even just because we were women daring to make time for our weird little hobbies. It was glorious. And we worked hard enough in other areas of our life that we had the $$$ to indulge in this. We didn't need to be paid, and even if you offered to pay us for our works, we'd likely get a bit insulted and insist that wasn't what this was about at all.

I was told more than once by family that I was good enough to be a "real writer" and didn't I want to do my own thing. So yes, I did get a bit miffed and lean in to my identity of fanfic-writing as hobby not intended as a career.

 And I'll be honest: when I see people advertising for commissions or celebrating fan-authors going "professional" as if this is necessarily a step up from unpaid fannish work, I often have this old framework in the back of my head. And it's not really fair. For one thing, I was in college in the early 2000's and so even when we didn't have a lot of cash, we expected to soon get day jobs where we could afford to live comfortably and still afford our hobbies. The housing market crash and the Great Recession changed all of that, as did work opportunities like Instacart and Uber. For a lot of people even a few years younger than me, everything became a side-hustle and there just wasn't this expectation a hobby could be a hobby. I get that there's a lot of privilege entering into that.

 On top of which, there's all kinds of gender issues: professional artists, predominantly men, have been painting and selling drawings of comic book characters for years. Star Trek and Star Wars affiliated novels, and Sherlock Holmes pastiches (as opposed to fanfic), again written primarily by men, are also very much a thing. Hell, so are Renaissance artists and the patron system that was built off of. And of course, just because you sometimes produce fanworks just to sell and still do the less commercial work just for yourself if you ever want to. There's no real conflict in that. And it's not like producing art to sell is at all wrong. But to me it does feel like that kind of art is different than what I fancy I do, back when I occasionally wrote. :-) And I probably am more aware of this than I should be, because my backdrop is different from a lot of fans younger than myself, and really do try not to let my situation turn into a blind spot.

 Even so, I worry and struggle to find the balance between letting art turn a profit and be reduced to a strictly commercial venture. It's never been anything I've been even remotely drawn to do, and human nature being what it is, I probably do think more highly of the kind of thing I'd choose to do. But I don't want to be unfair, and I don't want to think just because art is paid for and written/drawn to order, it's some sort of assembly-line output with no heart put into it by the writer and artist. Just like an artisan shoemaker might take great pride in his art and work his hardest on each shoe he crafts, even if he must sell it to make ends meet. Somehow, I suspect thinking about this in terms of commodification, the dangers of evaluating artistry using market standards and the ways in which it can still have a value beyond commodity even if it’s bought and sold, might help. But I've not quit worked out what insight that kind of thought would provide, if any.

Do you think there's a special value in fandom or art generally that's not made to be bought and sold? Or am I perhaps making too big a deal over nothing and revealing myself to be an old fuddy-duddy in the process. (It's always a possibility!) I'd be very interested to hear your thoughts if you have any to share.

[dirthavarens]

At Least [Bookerbeth]

Fandom: Bioshock Infinite Characters: Booker Dewitt, Elizabeth Comstock Relationship: Booker/Elizabeth Rating: Mature Warnings: Pseudo-Incest/Unknowingly Incest Word Count: 1791 Notes: I sure do love my problematic OTP READ ON AO3 or read below;;

She wanders inside of a ruined art studio and he follows her, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger. The inside is in shambles, a mess of canvas, paint, brick, and concrete. Broken wooden planks are scattered across the floor, but she navigates them with ease. She settles herself against the desk in front of them and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I’m not even his daughter. I’m just some,” she blurts out unexpectedly, her voice drowning in anger and confusion. Booker watches as she struggles to find the words in the clouded storm of her mind, “...specimen to be poked and prodded.”

Booker cannot help the knot that forms in the pit of his belly as he moves closer to the detritus-covered desk she leans against. Her doe eyes, so damnably and wonderfully blue, are fixed to the ground and he knows she’s fighting herself the same way she has been since he burst into her life. He needs to do something, say something, anything.

The truth would do. When he starts speaking, he hardly recognizes the tender note that cushions his words. It’s something that has only ever happened twice in his life.

“No, you’re not. Elizabeth, listen to me,” he entreats as he stands before her. The palm of his hand itches to be placed upon her cheek, to wrap her in his arms. “What you’ve been through… Ain’t nobody deserve that.”

Elizabeth looks up at last and Booker can see the glassy haze over her eyes. She’s exhausted, confused, frightened, and right now, he’s all she’s got.

“Booker--”

He raises his hand against his better judgment, caresses her face, and brushes her cheek with his thumb. She need not protest. She need not doubt him. He had set off on this journey initially to settle a debt. But he didn’t care about that anymore. Debts be damned, crimes be laid bare. She was his priority. Her safety, her comfort.

“We are gettin’ outta here, you got it?” Dull hope flickers behind her eyes as she holds his hand in place, nuzzling into the calloused warmth of his palm. “And you’re never gonna have to look back.”

They were in the middle of a warzone, yet the way she looked at him then…

Booker takes a step closer, his hand sweeping under her jaw to tilt her head with his finger just enough for her to gaze upon him. He swallows to silence the voice screaming in his head, demanding that he stop at once. His morality was always easy to mute, and this was no exception.

“Booker…” she repeats, softer than before, and reaches for his face. The fear in her eyes changes for a moment as she rests her fingers against his stubble. The coolness of her thimble-bearing finger is different, but he doesn’t mind.

“What you asked earlier…” To kill her in exchange for clipped wings. He never gave his word, but he would do everything before allowing her to be locked away again. She marveled at freedom, at beauty, at simplicity.

“I don’t want to talk about that now,” she objects with a quiet sternness.

“Elizabeth, I’m not gonna let it come to that. I’m gettin’ you out and you’re gonna see Paris,” he murmurs and slowly leans closer. Booker won’t push himself on her, but how he feels when she looks at him that way… He has to know if it’s mutual, has to know if she’s even curious.

“Please don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Her voice is but a whisper now as her words melt in hot breath against his face. He glances to her lips as she speaks, watching the supple flesh bend with every word, and finds that he’s stopped breathing altogether.

“Elizabeth…”

His forehead rests against hers, his eyes closing as he nestles his fingers into her choppy brunette locks. She’s responsive and in the way he had been hoping for. With nothing but ruin and death around them, they find a moment of solace, of comfort, as she laces her fingers together behind his neck.

“Kiss me, Mr. Dewitt. If anything goes wrong… I at least want to have that.”

His skin prickles as she says his surname, but not with the annoyance he felt the first hundred times she said it in their short time together. Booker lifts his head from hers and looks down at her to get the final confirmation from her before leaning in.

He takes her lips with a slow tenderness he’s unaccustomed to, having a certainty that he’s her first kiss. There’s a hunger inside of him that wants him to dig further, to take all of her firsts and all of her lasts. He hadn’t felt that way since…

No, he can’t think of them.

Elizabeth molds her mouth against his, pressing into him with an uncertain and awkward pressure. He smirks against her lips and takes the liberty of nipping her bottom lip before he pulls his head back.

“Never done this before, have you?”

“Was it bad?” she inquires with a note of embarrassment. “I have not, and I wanted t--”

“Hey, calm down. Lemme show you.” Booker finds himself smiling for the first time since he came to this hell in the clouds. He shifts closer, takes her cheek in his hand while his other settles at her waist. “Follow my lead.”

He takes her bottom lip in a smooth motion, kissing her as he would any woman. However, there is an attentiveness that is entirely for her, slow and directional without speaking. And Elizabeth catches on quicker than he anticipates. A small hand settles against his chest while the other scratches against his neck.

It’s a request for something more, something more involved, and he gives it to her. His tongue slides into her mouth, sampling the warmth as they keep their rhythm, and she lets out a satisfied hum.

He reaches behind her, then, and blindly pushes paint cans to the floor before easily lifting her into the air and setting her on the desk in place of the cans. Never does he leave her lips. Especially not since she picked up on how to move her tongue along with his.

They kiss in perfect tandem and Booker does his best to ignore the twinges in his groin, not daring to play with the idea of stripping Elizabeth’s virginity during her first kiss. He tries to tuck the thought away, failing more than not as her dress hikes up and he settles between her legs.

“Booker,” she breathes as they separate, her voice somewhat rough from her new experience. She looks up at him with something that he does not and will not give words to. Not so soon, not now, not here. She’s not allowed to want him. “What if this is it?”

“It isn’t,” he says assuredly. What he doesn’t say, is that it isn’t for her. He’s been through some shit before, but this… Ghosts, Songbird, Comstock’s cult, the Vox Populi…

He’s confident she’ll come out of this on the surface below, on Earth, where she belongs. There’s nothing he won’t do to ensure that now, even if it means his life is the cost. He’s been a killer long enough to know that everyone has a date with Death whether they want it or not. His luck would run out eventually.

But not before Elizabeth is safe.

He takes a step back and gives a breath as he pretends not to notice the way her chest is rising and falling or the way she’s biting the inside of her lip. “We should get back to Comstock’s manor.”

There’s a moment of silence between them before Elizabeth holds to his scarlet bandanna and pulls him closer. He returns to her lips before she has to ask, doing away with caution and ease. If this is the first and last time he gets to have a moment like this, he’s not going to squander it with gentility.

Booker returns to her with a step forward and holds her as tightly to him as he can, until they’re a unit of gnashing lips and tongue and teeth. He feels drunk as her kiss buzzes along his lips, as he drinks in her breath, as he steals into her mouth. The world was falling from the sky around them, and he cared for naught but her kiss. Only when she grabs at his belt does he focus on something other than those lips.

“No,” he growls and seizes her wrist, ignoring the tightness within his slacks.

“Booker...please…” Elizabeth pants out between the haphazard rhythm of their lips.

“No,” he repeats more firmly, knowing that she is still riding the waves of uncertainty and anger over Comstock’s abuse and lies. She’s vulnerable and he will not take advantage of that, no matter how beautiful she is, no matter how hard he is, no matter how much they both want to…

“Why?”

He pulls from the kiss, his lips sore, and releases her wrist. “This isn’t the right place or time.”

“Nothing about any of this is right,” she returns and rests her hands in her lap.

Elizabeth is right. Nothing is as it should be. They’ve jumped through realities, altered timelines, messed with space and time. But her words only solidified his questionable resolve.

“I know,” he sighs in agreement, but doesn’t act in her direction. Booker takes a step back to give her room to move. “But right now we gotta focus on gettin’ you as far away from this mess as possible.”

She slides down from the desk and gives a nod as she fixes her dress. He can tell she’s disappointed, but she’ll get over it. They have a task, hopefully a final push, and then Elizabeth would be free.

“Hey,” she starts as they turn to leave the building.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for…”

“Don’t mention it,” he picks up as she trails into silence.

Booker decides then that if he makes it through this, he’ll take her to Paris first. He’ll watch as she marvels over something she’s longed for. No one would get her in a trade for any deal. His debts are his, and she is her own person, never to be caged again. If she's still curious after the debris is cleared, if she still wants to explore that route, he won't stop her. He'll have her overlooking the Parisian streets as he claims her as his. And he'll be listening to all the pretty sounds he can only imagine that will come from her mouth.

All they have to do is make it down to the surface, and he would get them there.

Hopefully.

[vikingsarememes]

His True Wife

previous part                         ↭ part  eleven ↭                             next part 

Main Characters: Ivar the boneless, Reader.

Characters Mentioned: Freydis, Ubbe Ragnarsson, Bjorn Ironside, Sigurd Snake in the eyes, Original Characters.

Summary: After two months everything changed, and secrets were revealed, now you’re left to make a decision and suffer the consequences.

Word Count:   1775

A/N: none

warnings: none

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The past two months is when you realized, your heaven was a hell, you were now five months pregnant, but your husband, he was rather different, the realization of him being stuck in the farm drove him insane, he’d get angry for no reason, he’d wake up in the middle of the night cursing and screaming, nothing made him happy anymore, that smile of his was gone, his voice was changed, his sweet guy act was terminated, and you were left with an angry man, a man who had everything taken away from him, his pain was constant, and sometimes the herbs couldn’t help, you didn’t mind though, staying up with him, looking after him, what bothered you is how he’d treat you after, so cold and he’d push you away.

More plants started dying, it now worried you, it never happened before and with all of your attempts to rescue them, you’d end up at the same point, men with strange hats would visit Ivar some night, they’d speak in tongues you didn’t understand, but you kept Bjorn informed.

“Lady Y/N, prince Ivar is requesting your presence” Thoman declared, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion “he caught Elizabeth” he whispered, you gulped and looked at him “I fear it’s time Thoman, I fear it’s my time” you whispered back, patted his shoulder then headed back to the inside of the hut, your husband stood with the stranger who wore a weird hat and your slave Elizabeth that was reporting your news to Bjorn, she was on the ground, blood running from her mouth, her body was bruised, you never treated your people like that! the man picked her by the hair, the woman didn’t scream or fight, she looked at you straight in the eyes, as if she knew her end was near as if she was telling you it’s alright.

You rushed to her but your husband glared at you, making you stop at your spot “Ivar! What’s the meaning of this?” you demanded, looking at him horrified, you’ve never seen him like this before, the anger was the least your fear, no, the man you are standing in front was no man any more, he was the monster everyone warned you of “you don’t know? Your little slave woman was a little birdie to Bjorn, she reported to him all of my moves, my men caught her the other day, didn’t you know about it love?” you shook your head, lying but hoped he’d buy it.

The man punched her in the stomach and she fell on the ground, curled into herself “I told you, Bjorn and I were having an affair! It has nothing to do with you!” she insisted, blood coming out of her mouth, she got a kick this time, making her wince in pain “Ivar! For the love of gods leave her alone!” you exclaimed, you knelt next to her protectively “you see, it’s either her or you… and you have my child Y/N, which makes you untouchable until you give birth at least” he said so calmly, you looked at him horrified.

“Did you not think I’ll know? You went behind my back, told my brothers about everything I’ve done? I’m trying to make you a queen! Queen of Kattegat! Why would you not understand?” even though he didn’t scream or yell, you knew how furious he was, you prayed the gods to send him back to his senses before he does anything he might regret later, even though you doubted if this man has any regrets at this point, you held your belly protectively and stood in front of him. 

“I don’t wish to be your queen Ivar! All I ever wanted was to be your love! And the mother of your children, I don’t want bloodshed! If you continue seeking power, you will die! Do you wish to be dead? Your brothers will not tolerate your actions! The people won’t allow you to rule them! And if by a miracle you succeeded King Harald will come after you! Can’t you see the consequences of your actions? Where they’ll lead you… please Ivar, put an end to this, let’s go back to the way things were, my love, I beg you to stop, to live for me, for our child” 

“Well, it’s a little too late for this now wife, the plan will go as intended, you are either with me or against me” he threatened “you lied! You never returned for me, you returned for your imaginary throne! You used me, and I’m the fool for believing you… I wish nothing to do with your quest to seek death, Ivar, I want you gone if that’s the path you’re choosing” 

“Here’s the problem, you can’t kick me out, you see… your land it’s not yours anymore, it belongs to King Igor and his men, and by the morning, they’ll be here, but for now, enjoy your obligatory stay in this hut” the man took Elizabeth out of the hut, you knew she was dead, not yet, but in few minutes, while your husband, he smiled at you as the door was locked from the outside “Ivar!” you pleaded, “no! You were supposed to love me! I always thought no matter where I go, I’d have a place in your heart, but you betrayed me, wife! They turned you against me! I had a vision for us, so pure, we were happy! I loved you! I truly did” he spoke as if he was genuinely disappointed with your decision, he spoke as if he lost you forever.

“you never did Ivar, you only used me for your benefit, you only loved me when you wanted to love me, for you, I stood against the people, I fought for you, I begged for you to be forgiven, I lost so much, but you wanted me by your side as long as I play by your terms”

“I’m destined to live a life of misery and loneliness, you were wrong Y/N, it’s not Freydis who’s cursed by Loki, it’s me, whoever I love ends up turning on me” 

“I never turned on you, I only wanted you, but I was never enough for you and I never will be” 

You sighed and turned your back on him, laying on the bed, crying even, you are an idiot, you’ve been warned, thousands of times, by his brothers, by the people, even your land tried to tell you, but you were blinded by your own foolishness, Ivar’s not redeemable, yes, you still love him, but you wondered if that meant anything now, Bjorn, Ubbe, Sigurd, you’ve been angry at them for so long, but they never treated you wrong, you only disliked them for what they did to Ivar, and Freydis, you hated her but what if she only wanted to friend you so you’d save her? Now you’ll face the same fate as her, once your child’s born, Ivar will get rid of you, and he’ll hurt your child as well, you can’t let that happen.

“I wish to take a bath” you announced out of the sudden “a bath?” Ivar furrowed his eyebrows at you “yes a bath! I’m pregnant, in case you forgot, all of this stress is bad for the child, I wish to take a bath to calm down” Ivar nodded “it’s a good idea, perhaps a bath will send you back to your senses” you faked a smile, your slaves were allowed in to prepare the bath in the washroom, once they were done you were called “may I join you?” Ivar asked you shook your head no.

 “I can’t stand looking at you right now, I wish to have space from you” you rushed to the room and closed the door in his face, taking a deep breath, Ivar slammed his hand on the door, he hated this, you knew he hated feeling ignored, but his feelings didn’t matter now, now that you saw the side that he’s been hiding for so long.

“My lady, do you want help getting undressed?” one of the slaves asked, you shook your head no “yes please” you walked to one of the walls, that was hidden behind boxes and fabrics, a visible door used to be there, you hid it, part of you knew you’d need an escape one day, the slaves helped you remove the things from it “please light up that candle I brought the other day,” you said, faking the role, “yes my lady” once it was open, you smuggled your slaves out, then yourself “go, take everyone away, you’re all free” you whispered and walked out quickly to the stable.

The stable was far away from the hut, and Ivar had only a few men currently, and they were busy guarding the windows and the doors, you ran, your arm around your belly protectively, you felt the cold breezes into your bones, it was freezing, and you didn’t have your cloak, you entered the stable and found a man, one of Ivar’s men, he mumbled something you didn’t understand but you were frightened, with every step that he took closer, you took one further until you reached the wall, he smirked so wickedly, his hand caressed your cheek.

You closed your eyes, accepting your fate, waiting for the man to do what he wanted to do, and waited some more, nothing happened, when you opened your eyes, Thoman looked at you “We don’t have time! Everyone was smuggled away by the sea, you must go now! I’ll distract them, go to Kattegat my lady, they’ll be expecting you” you hugged him and nodded, he helped you on your horse, you haven’t ridden a horse since a very long time, he handed you a dagger “take this, don’t be afraid of using it” he instructed.

“Thoman, why aren’t you on your horse? Come on let’s go!” you frowned, “my lady, I lived well and beyond my time, I hear my god calling for me, I’ll be alright, I promise” he smiled, putting his cloak on you “Thoman no… please join me, we can make it together” you shook your head, he took your hand and kissed it “my sweet heathen lady, I was honored to serve you, don’t mourn me, I lived well and I will die a warrior, go, survive! Don’t look back”

he slapped your horse and caused it to run, your eyes were filled with tears as you mourn your loss, you rode to Kattegat, this is all your fault for trusting Ivar in the first place.

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Tags: (let me know if you want to be tagged for this story) @youbloodymadgenius​ @lol-haha-joke​ @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg​ @gearhead66​ @joebob15274​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @xbiekesx​ @yg0angelittaa​

Images source: stolen from google images.

[jane-fucking-seymour]

Legend of the Six Chapter 17 - To the Revolution

Words: 4631

AO3 Link

Going back to Weston is more than just returning home for Catherine Parr.

As she wandered the well-known path, walking with her cloak over her face, she knew that returning there meant that there were a few things she’d have to face, things that, for months, she hasn’t had the time to.

For one, it meant seeing the remains of the town that she just knew was not left standing after the events from which she fled there last. She understood that it would be an entirely different place, and she honestly wondered if anything would even be left standing.

Another, more heartbreaking occasion, however, was to be had: after months of running from it, she’d have to acknowledge that her most beloved in the world was gone. 

John.

She wished Catherine was there to help her through this. She wished she didn’t have to face this alone… but there wasn’t a choice, not with everything going on. They all had roles to play, and this was Cathy’s and Cathy’s alone.

She manages to get up the hill, exactly where they were all those months ago when she witnessed John’s death. She holds back a gasp.

The town is no more. Weston, in its glory, was nothing.

There’s still burned down debris everywhere. Where there was once warm houses and fields, there’s charred remains of an attack that, to the rest of the Realm, was justified. To her horror, not even the executioner station had been cleaned up and broken down. There was a stone wall that, thankfully, was intact, but everything within the town was just… gone.

She moves further down the hill, wandering into the town that, only months ago, would have welcomed her back with open arms.

She walks over to where her shop used to be, remembering all the good times in the now burned rubble: getting the shop with John, their conversations and witty arguments, their decision to stay in Weston and start a life there, the creation of the bookstore to what was its former glory, the meeting of the other queens, and, eventually, the fateful day of John being taken away.

The day everything completely changed.

She steps forward and kneels down at the rubbage, surprised at something she sees. She picks it up: a small, burned up piece of the storefront sign, the one that she and John had created and painted together when they first got the place. With a small smile, she puts it to her heart before pocketing it, walking towards where she knows is inevitable.

The executioner’s station.

The memory of that day, of her watching John’s speech, of her watching him die, bombard her to no end there. She can’t fathom how he was feeling when she last saw him. Did he feel afraid? Was he angry? Did her showing up and showing him that she was still there, still beside him to the end to the best of her ability… did it change anything? 

Does he approve of the woman she’s become since then?

“I thought you were dead.”

Cathy’s thoughts are interrupted by someone next to her, and she can’t help but gasp at who it is.

“Anne?”

Sure enough, Anne Parr was standing before her, the disguise completely ineffective with her.

Cathy expected nothing less from her little sister.

Cathy moves closer to Anne, taking a deep breath as she looks the girl over. “You look good, Anne.”

“And you’re alive,” Anne repeats. “We thought you had been captured- or worse.”

“Did the news not get to here?” Cathy asked, tilting her head. “They’ve been looking for me for ages.”

“No one really passes by here now, ever since…” Anne nods towards the burned down wreckage.

They both just stand there for a moment, considering.

Then, Anne starts to walk off.

“Come on, Cathy. It’s not safe for you here.”

Cathy follows Anne towards the row of tents nearby.

“Has this all that you’ve been living in?” Cathy asks, frowning. Back then, Anne’s house was nearby to Cathy and John’s. They’d often hang out at each other’s places, and the two were close.

Not anymore, however; Cathy hasn’t talked to Anne since she left.

“Everyone’s doing the same,” Anne replies. “There’s been no relief, no help from the Realm. Weston has all but completely been erased from the map, and it’s people, too.”

“That’s terrible,” Cathy says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Anne says nothing as she leads Cathy into one of the tents. She’s surprised by how many are in it.

“We don’t have enough for everyone,” Anne replies, as if knowing Cathy’s thoughts. They always were on the same wavelength, it’d be foolish not to assume that wasn’t the case now. “We all need to share.”

Cathy says nothing as she takes the tea that’s offered.

“Why are you back here, Cath? After all this time?”

Cathy frowns.

“I… I need Weston’s help.”

“Oh?”

Cathy puts the tea down.

“We’re starting a revolution.”

“Against?” 

“The Realm.”

“Why would-”

“Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn are alive.”

That gets Anne’s attention. Cathy watches her carefully.

“Their deaths were exaggerated to justify wars and unspeakable war crimes. Henry’s gone off the deep end.”

Anne frowns. 

“If they’re alive, does that mean Katherine Howard is as well?”

Cathy’s grip on the tea cup tightens. Anne continues.

“She was a sweet girl. It was a shame what happened.”

“She was alive, yes,” Cathy continues.

Silence.

Then, Anne:

“... but she’s not now?”

“She didn’t make it after Mind Magicks stole her sanity.”

“Oh.”

A beat.

“That poor girl…”

“We’re continuing on in her honor,” Cathy explains quietly. “For everyone’s that’s been lost. We can’t just… let him win. It could mean worse for the Realm than anyone thinks.”

She takes a sip of the tea.

“Weston is a special place. I thought, maybe… the people could help bring it back to its former glory.”

“The people of Weston… well, they don’t really know what to think about you,” Anne admits. “I don’t, either, if we’re being honest.”

Cathy looks up, a bit shocked by the admission. Anne shrugs.

“You disobeyed king and the whole town paid the price for it, Cathy. There’s a lot that’s happened because of you.”

“Not because of me, because of Henry,” Cathy argues, shaking her head. “He’s the real reason behind all of it.”

Anne shrugs. “How are you going to convince the people of Weston of that?”

Cathy smirks. “By showing them.”

“How?”

“Seymour Library has the hidden knowledge.”

“And you’re just going to… waltz on in there? As one of the most wanted criminals of the Realm?”

Cathy’s face falls then. She’s thinking about it before she hears someone behind her.

“I’ll get you those documents.”

Immediately, Anne is on her feet.

“Elizabeth?”

Indeed, Elizabeth Boleyn has entered the tent, sitting down next to Cathy with a note.

“Mum said to give you this.”

Cathy takes it, reads it, then immediately puts it away.

“She’s cautious of you,” Cathy says. “Good on her.”

“I’ll need to prove myself to her, I know that,” Elizabeth replies. “But to you?”

Cathy looks the girl over, then, with a smile. “You have time and time again. I trust you, Lizzy.”

“If Lady Elizabeth is here,” Anne says, bringing the conversation back to the issue at hand. “Does that mean everything Cathy is saying is true?”

Elizabeth nods. Anne sighs.

“Well… I believe you, but just Elizabeth’s word isn’t going to solve everything.”

“Then prove yourself to your mum, Liz,” Cathy says with a grin. “Go to the library. Get what you can. Come back by nightfall.”

Elizabeth nods, standing up. “I’ll be back sooner than that.”

She suddenly disappears.

Cathy turns back to Anne.

“When she has the full reports, she can prove it to the rest of Weston, and we’ll be free to move on from there.”

Anne watches for a moment before she nods. 

“I imagine you’ve been travelling for a long, long time,” Anne says softly. “You should get some rest.”

Cathy nods, laying down where she was; not much other places to go, honestly, and Cathy was definitely a bit more tired.

“I’ll wake you up when it’s time,” Anne replies softly. 

Cathy smiles. “Thank you.”

As Anne leaves the tent, she’s immediately confronted by some of the others that were in the tent as well.

“Is it really her?” one asks.

“We should report her,” another says.

“But what if she’s saying is all true?” another.

“Lady Elizabeth wouldn’t lie to us. Cathy, however…” a final finishes.

“Enough,” Anne says, running a hand through her hair. “We’ll figure this out. In the meantime, nothing has changed. We keep to ourselves, we wait for Elizabeth to return.” 

It takes a few hours but, surprisingly, none of the others decided to run their mouths to the rest of the town; a very, very lucky circumstance for Anne in particular. Harboring a fugitive, after all, has a death penalty.

When Elizabeth returns - hours later, but not before sundown, as promised - she brings a wealth of knowledge.

“How did you manage to get all of this?” Anne asks, looking it over with a few select scholars of the town.

Elizabeth shrugs. “I learned from some of the best queens out there,” she nods in Cathy’s direction before looking back at Anne. 

Anne, however, is distracted by what she’s learning and what the other scholars are saying: the reports of misconduct on the battlefield, the betrayal of Henry when he stabbed Katherine, the deals made in the shadows to ensure the First and Second Kingdom’s demises, the fall of the Realm’s Sanctuary, the slaughter of innocents to push a narrative… so much that, for all the scholar’s wisdom and knowledge, was on official reports in official ink with official seals.

It was as legitimate of a report as any of them have ever seen.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” one of the scholars says, “and it’s treasonous, but… screw it, it’s all wrong. We’ve been lied to.”

“Not just you,” Cathy pipes in. “The entirety of the Realm.”

The town’s elder stands then. “The people should know about this, should know about what the Realm has done. So long as the people consent - and they should, once they hear what is in these reports - you’ll have Weston’s support… provided you can give us direction as to where to put our attention to.”

“We can do that,” Cathy says. “We can start the revolution we’ve been looking for.”

“And how will you do that?” Elizabeth asks, frowning as she looks through more of the reports.

Catherine shrugs.

“What I do best.”

She writes.

She writes about the treatment of prisoners of war.

She writes about the plight of Weston, of its people.

She writes about the corruption of the Blessed Sanctuary of the Realm.

She writes about the experiments at the Temple of Healing at the Heart.

For two weeks, all she does is write.

Elizabeth does her part: she not only masters magick to quickly reproduce the writings her teacher writes, but also teaches anyone willing in Weston. One of the younger villagers came up with a name: Mirror Mages, after their ability to copy the print faster than any press that the Realm had. The name stuck.

By the time they’re done, there’s over a hundred Mirror Mages, thousands of pamphlets, and just as many willing couriers to spread the message far and wide.

Weston, once a place of great potential, burned to the ground due to an injustice thrust upon the town. Within those two weeks - and thanks to the brilliant potential of the villagers, led by Elizabeth Boleyn and Catherine Parr, the town was rebuilt into one of learning, of magicks, and of growth.

They rose from the ashes of it, against all odds, more united than they’ve ever been: one town, one people, rising against their past to rebel towards the future. 

This is Weston, hometown of Catherine Parr, home of the Mirror Mages, and the Start of the Revolution. 

Of course, every Revolution, by definition, has an opposing force.

And now, the town of Weston would be tested.

It’s the early morning when a shot rings out. 

Cathy is the fastest to move to her window, the fastest to see what’s happened, the fastest to jump out of her window and meet the victim in question: a scout, 20 years in age, barely alive when he falls to his knees. 

“Where are they?” Cathy asks, kneeling to heal him up as fast as possible.

“Twenty miles to the south,” he gasps out, coughing up some blood. “Large group. Damn good snipers.”

She nods, looking down at the wound; it was healing nicely.

“You’ll be alright, go get rest-” she starts, but the guy shakes his head.

“They’re coming, Catherine.” He looks at her with all the determination he can muster. “We fight. As one.”

Cathy watches him for a moment before she nods. “Sound the bell.”

He nods, takes another moment, then rushes up, rushing towards the town square, and throws a fireball at a nearby torch. When it’s lit, bells from all around the town sound off and the people get ready.

As Cathy meets up with Elizabeth, she can already hear the captains of groups start to bark orders.

“Valkyre group, get ready!”

“Bring the canons this way!”

“Barrier Regimen, on me!”

A well-oiled machine… or, at least, as well as it could be with only two weeks of notice.

It sounds more impressive than the actual people are.

“How many people do we have ready?” Cathy asks Elizabeth, who is conjuring up some sort of map of the town.

“A few hundred at best,” Elizabeth mumbles. “With half of those hidden under the city. Children, elderly, some others.”

Cathy nods before she turns to the scout approaching her. “How many?”

“Last count was five hundred.”

Silence takes the three of them.

“... alright.”

Cathy moves past the scout, who goes to help the people around her. 

She walks into the town hall, which has now turned into a headquarters for the fight. She looks down at the map on the table - on the other side of the Realm from Holbein, away from Hidden Gem… her friends can’t make it in time if they weren’t already coming. She can’t petition for help from anyone in time, and Holbein is as good as gone as far as she’s concerned for this fight.

They’re alone.

Surrounded on all sides.

The situation is looking dire.

She looks up at Elizabeth and, with a deep breath, nods.

“Take the best scouts you have and get out of here.”

Elizabeth looks at her like she’s crazy. “I won’t abandon you-”

“It’s a direct order, Elizabeth.”

Liz looks absolutely terrified at the statement, shocked even, as Cathy gives her a bag full of pamphlets and papers.

“Head back to Anne, take five scouts. Tell her you passed by the Moon. Then get these papers out there. Write down what you saw here. Write down what happened to the Town of Weston.”

She gently kisses Elizabeth’s forehead.

“I love you, Liz. Go fast, go safe.”

Elizabeth, teary eyed, nods and heads out.

When she’s gone, Cathy looks around at the various people getting ready for the battle. She walks with intention out of the headquarters and straight to her sister’s home.

“Cath, what’s-” Anne starts, but Cathy cuts her off.

“I need a second, Annie. You’re the one I trust the most in this village.”

Anne takes a step back. “I don’t have the qualifications-”

“But you do. You learned from all of us, Anne, and I know you learned a lot from Boleyn especially.” she puts her hands in Anne’s. “That’s the exact type of fighting style that we need right now. I need you at my side, Anne.”

Anne watches her sister very, very carefully… before she nods.

“I’m at your will.”

Cathy smirks.

“Then we’ve won this war.”

The soldiers surround the town easily enough, with horses and attack dogs and cannons.

It’s silent for a moment. 

Cathy quickly heads inside, into the headquarters, into a back room.

She smiles when she sees how it’s set up.

“You did great, Anne,” she compliments, moving into the middle of it.

“Just as you suggested! I even added a few things to help with your energy consumption. The hope is that it lets you continue on for a bit longer than normal.”

“Brilliant, just brilliant,” Cathy says with a nod. She looks around, then at Anne, then sighs. 

“Let’s start a war.”

She kneels down at the center of the room and focuses. Again, the sigil from those months ago appears on the ground.

The blue dragon appears once again; those from Weston remember it from the time their world burned, all those months ago.

The captain of the Realm’s Guard steps forward. “It’s an illusion. March forward!”

The men do… until very real fire emits from the dragon’s mouth.

Inside the town, Catherine Parr smirks within a summoning circle. 

“Thanks, Jane,” she mumbles. She focuses again, her eyes glowing as bright as the dragon’s scales as the dragon moves to her will, destroying a few canons and drawing lines in the formation of the Realm’s men.

“Go!”

Through the fire walks two hundred villagers, a crest of the blue dragon on their clothing. They walk through the flames - the same flames that are taking out the Realm’s men left and right - and go on the attack. Fifty archers from the town’s gates fire arrows through the flames, which catch fire to bring the burning to the men. The Realm’s men are seperated; no longer a full force of 500, but rather a few patches of fifty to a hundred men in each zone.

It’s a fantastic start.

The Villagers, however, aren’t as experienced in war as the Realm’s men, which allows for them to overcome the droves of rebellion coming at them. Villagers and Realm soldier alike die, though the latter less often. 

Catherine, from the Dragon’s eyes, can see this.

“Anne!”

The dragon continues to bring support fire as Catherine continues to concentrate on the summoning spell. Anne steps forward to the Captain of the Shadows.

“Start the operation.”

Just as the Realm’s warriors think they have the upper hand, they’re suddenly flanked by the fifty rogues the town managed to scrape together. Using their own weapons, the Realm’s own weapons, and sheer creativity, then men are cut down to size. 

They’re taking heavy losses, but the Realm is taking more.

The Captain of the Realm, with an annoyed grumble, realizes that he can’t win this, not when the town is so well coordinated.

“Since when did they organize this well?” he asks his second in command as he moves his horse to retreat.

“I imagine it’s the traitor, Catherine Parr, that’s done this so well,” the second says. “Possibly bewitched the entire town.”

“A pity,” he says with a shake of his head. “My hometown completely destroyed by the witch… ah, well.”

A soldier sees the captains retreating and rushes over to them.

“Sir! Do we also retreat?”

“No, you lot will fight and die here,” the captain says with a dismissive wave.

The man looks confused. “You’re not staying? We’re fighting for the Realm, and you abandon us-?!?”

It’s the last thing he’ll ever say, however, as he’s cut down.

“You are not the Realm. You’re a prisoner of war, as is the rest of this blasted company,” the general says with a rolling of his eyes. “If we wanted to, we’d have cut these people down to size already, but there is far bigger issues on our hands.” He looks to his second, not even regarding the dying men at his side. “We’re done here. Let them die. Take the real Realmmen and head back home.”

“Of course, sir.”

Cathy, from the Dragon’s perspective, heard all of this. With a narrowing of her eyes, she draws a wall of fire to cut off the General’s retreat.

He looks up at her with a glare before firing spell after spell towards her.

They hurt, but not as much as he’s about to.

She forces him back towards the fight, back towards the rest of the group. Then, when she figures he’s close enough, the dragon roars to get the world’s attention.

With the men cornered, Cathy dispells the dragon.

She stumbles to her feet, clearly exauhsted, and rushes out of the town and towards the battlefield. Anne, of course, is right at her side.

Cathy quickly moves to the center of the place, where the five generals were.

“Realmmen! Listen to me!” she yells in a voice that booms; a magical amplifier. She can barely stand right now, but she’s going to press on. “Your captains, they planned to abandon you.”

“This is false,” the General of the Realm says, rolling his eyes. “Another one of the Traitor’s tricks. Kill her, men!”

“No!”

They all look back to the man from before - the one the General struck down.

“It’s true. He slashed at me.”

The General looks angry, and Cathy continues.

“Lay down your weapons! We don’t want to fight, we don’t want more blood!” She looks straight at the General for the next part. “We want to be free. And we’ll set the Realm free - your homes - free from it as well.”

There’s silence. She continues.

“Your homes were taken from you - from all of you - and now you’re being left to die in someone else’s war. It doesn’t need to be this way. Everyone can work together to take back their homelands. Isn’t that what you all wanted? You, from the First and Second Kingdoms, whose homes were stolen from you during the Blessed War and War of Shadows. You, the refugees, who have been forced to fight for the very people who betrayed you and your people in the first place?”

The warriors look like they don’t know what to do. 

The General straightens up. “Someone shut this girl up already!”

Cathy raises an eyebrow. “Make me.”

The General, with a growl, goes to do just that.

He raises his hand and Catherine dodges what she could only see as a green bolt of energy. It hits right next to her, where the ground seems to die where it’s been hit.

“Necromancy?” Cathy asks herself, looking up at the man.

The general smirks. “You want to turn my men against me? Fine. But I’ll make sure you pay for it with your life - this one, and any I choose to give you afterwards.”

She is more cautious now; she knows that any hit, no matter how slight, could kill her immediately. The necrotic magick he’s wielding is strong, she knows that much; it would be a shame to die now.

She quickly dodges a few more attacks and, when she hears the agonized cry of a Realmmen and realizes the others around her are in danger of being hit by the General’s magicks, summons up a forcefield to protect enemy and ally alike from the one-on-one. The General doesn’t seem to care, but that changes when Catherine casts another spell - Dispell Magick, specifically - and his spells are no longer useful.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re really going to bank on close combat?”

She nods. “I’m not going to let you hurt any more people.”

“At the expense of your life?” he shrugs, taking out his great sword. Cathy gets ready with a dagger she borrowed from Anne. “As you wish.”

He rushes forward, swiping furiously as Cathy, who dodges and parries as much as she can… but he’s a veteran swordsman, and she is not.

Cathy moves to dodge a swing, only to realize too late that it was a fake; he swipes upwards now, hitting Cathy across the chest.

She yelps in pain, being thrusted off her feet and up into the air. He uses the opportunity to slam her down into the ground. 

The magickal barrier dissipates, as does the Dispel Magick.

He smirks as a green light appears in his hands.

“That was all very charming, but,” he says, kneeling down next to her. “I think we’re done here. And it was all for nothing. You’ll make a great thrall, Catherine Parr, Traitor of the Realm.”

Catherine can barely hear him, her eyes barely open as she looks up with dispair. She had failed her mission. She wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t fulfilling her promise to Catherine.

She closes her eyes, not having the strength to look at her death.

I’m sorry, Catherine…

He smirks, hand shooting down towards Cathy’s wounds-

-only to stop when he’s struck in the shoulder with an arrow.

He spins around to find that it’s one of his own men.

“Traitor!” he yells, looking up and throwing the spell at the man in question. The man, however, has three of his fellow warriors step in front of him, blocking them all from the attack using their own shields.

The General’s eyes go wide as the four captains also realize the situation they’re in.

A cleric from the Realm goes over to Cathy, gently sitting her up and casting restoration spells on her; she feels her breath stabilize, life returning to her. Then, she sees the hand offered by the previously downed soldier, a smile on the man’s face.

“All of you! Traitors of the crown!” the General yells. “This is an outrage!”

“No,” Cathy says, standing up with the help of the downed man. “This is a revolution.”

The General and his captains are escorted from the battlefield then, flanked by Realmmen and rebels of Weston alike. They’re stripped of their belongings and sent off with a message: Weston is the birth of the rebellion, and it will not be silenced.

The victory is swift and wonderful, with their new allies quickly ushered into the town’s gates, and the dead and wounded are tended to. Some of the dead, thankfully, are even able to be revived, depending on when they died, thanks to the Realmmen’s magick.

Many died that day, but it could have been far, far worse.

Anne rushes to her sister’s side, quick to take her and lead the exhausted woman back towards headquarters.

“What do we do now?” Anne asks.

“We continue the fight,” Cathy replies. “With our new friends here. We get them to help. The First and Second Kingdom’s are just a stone throw’s away. If we get some of the Realmmen to go back home, to tell of Weston… we can surely get more on our side.”

The downed man from before steps forward. “We’ll do exactly that, Lady Parr, you have our word. The First and Second Kingdoms will not be erased from history for much longer, thanks to you.”

Cathy shrugs it off. “We still have much to do.” She sits down unceremoniously, catching her breath; so much magick used at once has detrimental effects on her health. She’ll need to rest for a bit before returning back to meet up with the other five.

“Anne,” Cathy says quietly. “I need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Of course, sister, what is it?”

She hands Anne her dagger.

“Lead them. They need it.”

Anne frowns, looking at the dagger, before she nods and clasps it in her hands.

“I will. The Order of the Blue Dragon will not be denied.”

Cathy chuckles at the name, but in reality she’s touched; John’s legacy will live on through it. Though weakened at the moment, Cathy understands the strength in the numbers they’ve gathered today.

A strength that, once the time comes, she’s certain she can call upon.

All according to plan.

[mieteve-minijoma]

Songfic Day 8: Coma White

Day 8: A song about drugs or alcohol - Coma White - Marilyn Manson

***TRIGGER WARNING: THIS STORY HAS ELEMENTS OF SELF-HARM, DRUG ABUSE, AND ADDICTION. DO NOT READ IF THIS WILL AFFECT YOU NEGATIVELY*** 

Betty Cooper isn’t what she seems. To everyone on the outside she has it all: perfect parents, perfect home, perfect grades, the perfect boy next door crushing on her, perfect everything. 

What no one knows is Betty is sinking. Sinking in pills, in alcohol, in self harm. The only person who knows the real Betty is the boy from the wrong side of the tracks that she has been secretly dating and sleeping with for the past year. 

Can he convince her to get the help she needs or will she cut him out of her life forever?

*****

“Elizabeth, I filled your prescription again. Don’t lose them this time, I don’t want Mr. Greene at the pharmacy to think my daughter is incompetent or a drug addict or some other terrible thing like that,” Alice scolded Betty as she placed the bottle of Adderall in her hands. Betty had claimed she’d ‘lost’ the pills when the truth of it was much darker.

“Yes Mother,” Betty smiled artificially, the light not quite reaching her eyes but being enough to convince her mother, “I’m just going to go put this away and then I’ll head out. I promised Kevin that I would meet him at the drive-in by 8pm.”

“That’s fine dear, just remember to be home by midnight. Oh, and don’t forget you promised Principal Weatherbee that you would help on the dance committee as well as head up the tutoring program starting this week. Since that will keep you busy most of the week, I want to see your layouts for that new article you promised me for The Register on my desk by 5pm tomorrow, no later, ” Alice stated firmly, turning away to walk downstairs, leaving Betty alone in her room to think about all the pressure she felt rising inside herself. When she heard her parents talking in the kitchen, she shut her door quietly, locking it before heading to her closet. 

In a secret cubby hole that Betty had made was an ornate wooden box, her box of secrets. It was where the real Betty Cooper lived, where she kept the darkest part of herself. Betty slowly opened the box revealing several pill bottles, some under false names, mini bottles of various liquors, a travel first aid kit, and a small black case.  

Betty opened the case to reveal a razorblade and alcohol wipes, her brain warring with itself on whether she should do this again. ‘You promised him Betty, you told him you would stop doing this. What will he think of you if you do this again? He’ll leave you and never look back.’ Betty shook her head to dispel the thoughts and grabbed the blade, wiping it with an alcohol swab before bringing it to the skin of her thigh under her skirt. ‘Just one little cut, just one cut and I’ll stop. I just need this, I need it. He’ll understand that I need it.’

As the small incision on Betty bare thigh slowly oozed blood, Betty grabbed a bottle filled with vodka and used it to wash down a small handful of various pills, not enough to kill herself but enough to make the thoughts stop. She watched the blood trickle down her thigh, coming dangerously close to her bedspread before she took the alcohol wipe and cleaned the wound before she placed a bandage on her leg. ‘He doesn’t need to know, just tell him you cut yourself shaving. Just keep it a secret. No one ever has to know who you really are...’

Betty placed all the things back into the box, hiding it away from the world, and placing it back into her closet. Betty then flushed the alcohol wipe so her mother wouldn’t find it when she snooped around, which inevitably she would. Betty grabbed her coat to go meet her real date, staring at her reflection in her vanity for a minute before smiling fakely and running out of the house.

****

As Betty pulled into Sunnyside Trailer Park she giggled to herself, feeling the euphoria of the drugs and vodka combination pumping through her veins. She stepped out of the car, stumbling slightly as she made her way to her boyfriend’s trailer. Once she got up the steps she steadied herself, sheknocked.

Jughead Jones answered the door, his chest bare and his jeans slung low on his hips looking like the personification of sin itself, and smiled at her like she was the very light of his existence. He pulled her into his arms and closed the door before pressing her up against it, his tongue finding hers in a passionate kiss while his hand snaked up her skirt before he abruptly stopped and stared at her.

Betty and Jughead had crossed paths at the Twilight Drive In where he worked just over a year prior, finding an instant attraction that led to them fucking in the projection booth during a midnight showing of Rebel Without A Cause. Even though they had just met they couldn’t help themselves and it turned out to be the night that they’d both lost their virginity, moaning into each others mouths to not draw attention to their midnight rendezvous. After that, they were both gone for each other and nothing could keep them apart.

Even a year later, and with them keeping their relationship secret from those on the Northside, they were still going strong and couldn’t get enough of each other. Jughead was the one person who knew the real Betty. He’d split her open, prying the darkness from inside her and attempted to help her heal from her inner turmoil. He knew she struggled with her home life and the image of perfection, relying a little too heavily on medication and alcohol to survive, hurting herself to stop the numbness.

Jughead could see the signs all over her: the glossy and the blank eyes, her staggered movements, the taste of vodka on her tongue, the fresh bandage on her thigh. He knew exactly what she had done before she arrived, he just wasn’t sure what triggered it this time. He pulled back further to look at her only for her to look away, Betty not wanting to see judgment in his eyes.

“Baby?” Jughead murmured and gently turned her face towards him, his fingers caressing her jawline in an attempt to comfort her, “What happened?” He asked in a choked whisper, wiping a tear from her cheek that had escaped her watery eyes.

Betty hated hearing the pain in his voice, especially when she was the source of the pain. She never wanted to hurt him, all she wanted was to make him happy but she just couldn’t stop herself and she didn’t know if she could do this alone anymore. This was the final straw and she just needed to let it all go.

 “Juggie, there is something very wrong with me... I think I might be broken,” She sobbed into his chest, her heart breaking in two at the thought that she hurt him and what he might do, “I’m sorry I hurt myself again, I’m sorry I hurt you, I'm sorry I broke my promise. Please don’t leave me Jug, please,” she wept lowly.

Jughead cradled her in his arms with one hand wrapped in her blonde curls, holding her tightly while the other rubbed her back. “Shhh baby, I would never leave you. It’s you and me forever, remember? I’m never going anywhere Betts but you do need help. Just let me help you, let me take care of you and I know we can make it through this together, baby.” 

Betty crumbled even further, the two sinking to the floor together, both with tears streaming down their cheeks. Jughead pulled her into his lap and held her tighter. “I promise Betty, I’m going to be here every step of the way. You won’t have to do anything alone anymore. I love you so fucking much.”

Betty wrapped her arms around his torso and kissed the tattoo of her name above his heart, “I love you too Juggie. I think I’m ready, I know I need to get help and I’m ready for it.”

“Ok. Let’s do this Betts,” he whispered against her hair, “I’ll call Dad’s sponsor and we can start there. I’m proud of you baby, never forget that.”

[rorykillmore]

it’s @spearitsandmonsters‘ birthday today!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPEAR. as a gift, they requested an au fic for a dynamic we’ve been developing quite a bit lately, which we’ve affectionately dubbed villabeth. i picked “baby assassin villanelle breaks elizabeth out of her tower instead of booker”, which is an idea we’ve only loosely talked about, but something about it STUCK with me. so i hope i did it justice and i hope you enjoy, spear!!

and here’s wishing you a wonderful birthday <3 i know basically everything is difficult right now and while it goes without saying that i wish that wasn’t the case... i know that one of the things that helps me get through it and remember the good parts is talking to you and writing with you and having you for a friend. so i hope i can provide that same support and escape for you. if nothing else, knowing you for another year is absolutely worth celebrating in my book!!!

Oksana had expected someone pampered and spoiled, who might have turned up her nose or screamed at someone as rogueish-looking as her. Instead, Elizabeth is acting like she’s never spoken to another human being before in her life, and looking at her as if Oksana has suddenly become the center of her universe.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but it spurs another excited little flutter in her chest.

She doesn’t ask what her employers want with the city in the sky, or why it’s so important to them that Comstock’s heir doesn’t live long enough to succeed him. This had been one of the first in the long list of rules Dasha had taught her: never make your employers think you are interested in their plans or motives. Makes them nervous.

It’s Oksana’s first official job on her own, too, so she’s not about to fuck things up the second the Twelve have actually stopped breathing down her neck for five minutes.

A part of her wonders, though, if they’ve changed her minds about wanting her. Because for a first official assignment, the risk involved almost makes her think that her employers are trying to get rid of her.

She’s good, of course -- good enough to sneak through Columbia and up into Monument Tower without incident, but it had been far from easy. And now that she’s in, she feels like she’s breaching the site of a nuclear meltdown, or the cage of a bloodthirsty monster. When they had told her that the city’s heir needed to die, Oksana had assumed she would have to snatch her away from a life of luxury. She had allowed herself to begin to resent the other girl without even having met her, entertaining the image of some wealthy, ultra-religious, spoiled little brat who’d enjoyed so many things Oksana had never been allowed to even touch, had dreamt about stealing into some preposterously frilly and extravagant bedroom and smothering her with a pillow in the dead of night.

But this?

This is like a prison, or a laboratory, or something worse than both. Oksana fights to keep her hackles from raising as she stealths her way towards the last heavy steel door. What sort of person have they sent her to deal with? 

She draws from her bag the replica key that one of the Twelve’s Columbia contacts had provided, and hesitates, weighing her options. She’d have liked to find a less direct method of entry, but her employers have cautioned her from making too much noise or disruption, lest she alert the tower’s unique security system.

So she’s going in through the heavy, reinforced door that looks virtually impossible to open subtly. Practically blind. 

She doesn’t like that.

Oksana reloads her weapon. Whatever her mark might be capable of, whatever the reason she’s been locked up so tightly, it’s nothing that a quick shot to the head won’t take care of, surely. With her free hand, she inserts the key, which seems to trigger several other mechanisms within the door to whir and unlock, and then - carefully - she steps inside.

If it is a prison cell, it is the most impressive one she has ever seen. Oksana is standing in the doorway of something resembling a well-furbished library, like the kind you’d find in old castles or government buildings. It seems empty, so Oksana supposes that her target could be in one of the other rooms. Maybe the noise from the door opening will draw her out. Hopefully. Oksana does not fancy a game of hide and seek in unfamiliar territory.

Despite her mission, though, and despite the dedication and focus she is supposed to feel, curiosity tugs at the corners of her thoughts. She is not supposed to ask questions, and yet the pieces of a puzzle are set before her, and when she tries to put them together they do not quite make sense. Why keep the Lamb of Columbia here? Why go to all this trouble? What was with all the charts and laboratory equipment Oksana had passed on her way in, and why did they make her sound like some kind of monster in need of containment?

If she’s such a monster, why do they need her?

Perhaps it’s a terribly ironic question for Oksana to be asking. But she is an assassin, a perfectly crafted weapon, and that’s one thing.

She ventures a little further into the room, her pistol lowered but still held firmly in front of her. It’s only when she passes the staircase that she realizes something is wrong. A shadow moves out of the corner of her eye, and Oksana turns before she can process anything else, instinctual and immediate the way her mentors have always praised her for as she closes her hand around the girl’s wrist.

The girl cries out, and tries to jerk away from her grip. Once. Twice -- Oksana lets go the second time, so that she stumbles backwards and falls back against the bannister of the staircase she’d just hidden herself behind. Oksana is on her again in a second, pinning her easily and letting the barrel of the pistol dig into her ribs, her free hand now clamped over the girl’s mouth to keep her from screaming.

“Shh,” Oksana tells her, and she should end it right then.

Except -- 

The ‘monster’ has a much prettier face than Oksana had anticipated. Her eyes are a shade of blue Oksana can’t remember ever seeing for in her life, a little brighter and clearer than even Columbia’s skies, and presently blazing with rage or fear or probably both. She might be the around the same age as Oksana, or just a year or two younger, she has lovely dark hair that’s now just a little disheveled by their brief struggle, and she seems to be trying to bite the hand Oksana is holding against her mouth. Oksana feels her lips twitch briefly, despite herself.

“Shh,” she tells the other girl again. “Do not scream.”

Satisfying her growing curiosity is a bad idea. It will complicate things unnecessarily. Oksana knows Dasha would tell her to get the job done and then get out, but...

The questions do not count if nobody ever finds out she asks them, right?

“I did not come here to hurt you. You just startled me.” Oksana continues, softening her voice. It’s a lie, of course, but she takes a little bit of pride in how earnest she makes it sound.  “If I take my hand away, you promise you won’t scream?”

The girl’s pretty eyes bore into hers, but they look less angry now, less scared, more... disbelieving? As if she isn’t quite convinced Oksana is real.

“Please?” Oksana tries, all but batting her eyelashes, and finally the girl nods. Oksana supposes she will just have to trust her. She lowers her hand and steps back, putting about a meter or so between them both, close enough that she can still move in if --

“How did you get in here?” the girl asks breathlessly.

Oksana blinks at the question. Then nods to the way she came in. “Through the door?” 

She would find it funny, the way the girl gapes at her suspiciously in response, if she wasn’t also so confused. “You can’t just come in through the door, there’s no way -- no one ever --”

“They put a door there, then told you you can’t use it?” Oksana widens her eyes deliberately. “Wow. Really cheap con.”

“It’s not exactly like I have a key on hand.” The girl crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes, though she also doesn’t take them off Oksana for a second.  “Who are you?”

Oksana opens her mouth to answer -- then remembers herself midway.

“Villanelle. My name is Villanelle.” A name new enough that it doesn’t quite feel like hers yet, but it will. Oksana already likes the way it rolls off her tongue.  “What is your name?”

“I’m Elizabeth,” Elizabeth tells her breathlessly, a bit too trusting for someone talking to a stranger who’s just broken into her home. And for someone locked up like a high-security prisoner. The longer Oksana talks to her, the more bemused she becomes. Elizabeth seems so... normal. “You -- you’re so --”

Oksana is not sure what she was going to say, but all speculation flies out of her head when Elizabeth seems to lose all impulse control and places her hands on either side of Oksana’s face.  “-- Real.”

As a rule, Oksana does not like people touching her face. Bad memories, and all -- from more than just one source. But this touch is gentle (and confusing) enough to give her pause, to cause a strange flutter in her chest at the softness of it.

She should be wary, perhaps. Anna had once touched her this way, and Anna... had not been what Oksana expected. Elizabeth is not what Oksana had expected either, but in a different way. Oksana had expected someone pampered and spoiled, who might have turned up her nose or screamed at someone as rogueish-looking as her. Instead, Elizabeth is acting like she’s never spoken to another human being before in her life, and looking at her as if Oksana has suddenly become the center of her universe.

It’s a ridiculous thought, but it spurs another excited little flutter in her chest. “Yeah?” she answers belatedly, uselessly, to break the silence.

As if she’s suddenly become aware that she’s violated some social norm, Elizabeth drops her hands and steps back, slightly abashed but no less curious. “Where do you come from? You sound like you’re from far away. Your name -- it’s French, isn’t it?”

 “Latin, technically,”  Oksana says, composing herself and quirking an eyebrow.  “Like the poem? You must have time to read a lot of poetry.”

“You have no idea.” Furtively, longingly, Elizabeth glances towards the door like she’s readying herself to bolt. Then her gaze snaps back to Oksana, like no matter how taken she may or may not be by the appearance of a pretty stranger in her tower, she’s abruptly remembered that it’s a good idea to be at least a little suspicious.  Her eyes drop to the pistol in Oksana’s left hand. “Why are you here?”

This is it, Oksana thinks. The moment where she shrugs as casually as anything in the world, answers ‘to kill you’, and finishes the job point blank. But she doesn’t move. The hand on the pistol doesn’t even twitch.

“Uh,” she answers instead, grasping idly for something that makes sense. “To rescue you?”

Wouldn’t that be hilarious. If Oksana decided suddenly that she would whisk this girl away with her, and then they’d spend the rest of their probably-short lives dodging not only Columbia’s forces, but the Twelve’s if they ever made it out. Oksana knows - has been warned over and over again - what the Twelve do to traitors.

Elizabeth seems speechless beyond words, so Oksana adds quickly, “Why do they keep you locked up in here, anyway? Did you do something bad?”

Elizabeth opens her mouth uncertainly. Then closes it again. Then laughs. “You mean someone sent you here to rescue me and they didn’t tell you that?”

“I didn’t say anyone sent me,” Oksana corrects her. “I decided to.”

Has she really? She watches Elizabeth closely, as though Elizabeth is the one who can answer that for her. “The security measures outside this room -- you would think they had locked up a mass murderer, or a radioactive mutant, or something,” she adds, a humorous way of prodding for answers while she thinks.

“I guess --”  Hesitation laces Elizabeth’s tone as she answers.  “I guess it’s because of what I can do.”

What can you do? Is the obvious question. But the one Oksana asks instead is:  “People think you are dangerous?”

Elizabeth shrugs minutely, the look in her eyes unreadable.

And Oksana feels something in her soften a fraction.  “I was locked up once.” Albeit in not nearly as spacious a cell as this.  “People think I’m dangerous too.”

The seconds pass as Elizabeth watches her, until Oksana almost itches under her searching gaze.  

“Will you leave with me?” Elizabeth asks finally.

Oksana gives her a rueful smile. “Where do you want to go?”

This had not been the plan. Can she risk what she’s made for herself for the sake of her own curiosity? For a pretty face?

Elizabeth exhales quietly, shakily, like she still can’t believe she isn’t dreaming. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

How about for someone who’s a little like she is? Who, in only the span of a few moments of knowing one another, has made Oksana feel a little less alone?

“I have been to Paris many times.” Oksana steps forward, closing most of the distance between them, her gaze intense. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Soft,” she remembers Dasha spitting at her, “You are too soft for them, still. You need to work harder, try harder, show them how lethal you are.”

Oksana grins a faint sharp grin. Dasha would never have the guts - or perhaps the reckless stupidity - to do what she is about to do. She reaches out and touches Elizabeth’s hair, tempted to pull it out of his ribbon. Instead, she simply twirls a lock of it around her finger. Despite the unchecked contact Elizabeth initiated only moments ago, she freezes under Oksana’s touch, and Oksana’s grin softens into an ever-so-slightly smug smile.  “Once we leave, you know... you would not be able to come back.”

She waits to see what Elizabeth will do, but Elizabeth doesn’t flinch or pull away or even waver. Her eyes locked with Oksana’s, she just breathes, “Why would I want to?”

“You haven’t seen the world outside yet.” Oksana takes another step. It’s another challenge, but Elizabeth does not back away, and now they’re so close that they practically breathe the same air. “You might find you would prefer your cage.”

 “Did you?” Elizabeth challenges her, and Oksana laughs breathily. It’s a good response. She thinks maybe she will enjoy this, no matter the consequences in the end.

“Okay,” she says suddenly, and pulls away. Elizabeth’s expression dims slightly -- maybe with uncertainty, or even disappointment. Oksana wonders for a moment if Elizabeth had expected her to kiss her. Would she have been Elizabeth’s first kiss?

She somehow likes the idea of that, but... perhaps not here. So she offers her hand instead. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Elizabeth’s hand is soft in her own as she takes it, but there’s something about the recklessness of her smile that makes Oksana wonder if it’s the rest of the world that needs a warning.