#NICOLE THIS IS ALSO FOR YOU LOOK AT HIS HEARTBEAT THING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burrowbaddie · 2 years ago

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Moving On

Joe Burrow x Female Reader

Series Summary: Childhood friends to lovers to nothing. You and Joe had history, you were each others first and then you were nothing. Years later, you guys rekindle the flame but with more obstacles in the way this time.

Chapter 6 Summary: You and Joe try to move on from the scandal.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Afab!reader, smut, swearing. Oral (female & male receiving), vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cheating! (You are the side girl, sorry.), the small fight scene, jealous Joe, mild violence, stalker

Series Masterlist

You lock yourself in your office, trying to avoid co-workers and patients. Your phone is blowing up with texts from family, friends, and random people who have your number somehow. All of it was sending you into a panic. Joe's name flashes on your phone.

"Joe." You cry.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'll fix this. I promise. I'm going to fly home right now."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't look at any of your social media accounts, and don't answer phone calls. I'll see you when I get home. I love you." Joe hangs up, leaving you alone again. Tate knocks on your door, but you're too ashamed to open it. He uses his master key and opens the door, locking it behind him.

"Mya is calming things down out there." Tate walks over and hugs you. You can't stop crying; people have already been texting you hurtful things. Tate takes your phone, so you can stop reading your IG comments which are flooded with hateful words.

"What am I going to do?" You can't stop crying. Your chest is so tight that you begin to hyperventilate.

"Hey, you have to calm down. Think about the baby. Hey!"

Tate's words are muffled together and unheard because of your rapid heartbeat. All you can hear is the blood pulsing. And then everything goes black. When you wake up, you're in a hospital bed with your OB next to you.

"Relax. You're okay. You started having a panic attack. Tate came to get me. I'm taking you off the rest of your shift. Tate is going to take you home." She says. Mya is sitting next to you with an apologetic look. You comply with your OB's ruling. Tate takes you home, and Mya promises to come by after work. When you get home, Tate turns off your cell phone and takes it. You argue that Joe might call, but Tate says he will handle it. George is on high alert because your new address was also leaked. You know that your parents must be blowing up your phone, so you cry yourself to sleep. a few hours later, Tate wakes you up to eat and let you know Joe is on his way home. You refuse to eat, but he drags you from bed downstairs to Mcdonalds on the dining room table. You take a seat, picking at the fries. The front door opens. Joe rushes to you, and you immediately break down. His eyes glare at Tate as he rubs your back. He knows this isn't the time to be jealous, but the thought of someone else comforting you pisses him off.

"I'm going to fix this. I promise."

"Joe, I don't think you can fix this," Helen states, making her presence known. You try to calm down and wipe your eyes.

"There has to be something. I won't deal with the media talking about her like she's a side piece."

"Joe, when you started a relationship with her, she was one. I told you to leak the story first; now the ball is in Nicole's hands. I don't know how you will be able to fix this." Helen looks at you with a frown.

"Sorry to step in on this, but you should come clean about Nicole. Do an interview and tell the truth."Tate says, making everyone turn to him.

"I'm not doing an interview. I never have and never will do one about my personal life. It's no one's business." Joe's intense, and you hold his hand to calm him down.

"The kid is right. This might help clear some things up."

Joe lifts you and takes you upstairs. He doesn't want to hear a thing from anyone else. For the next few days, you hide out with Joe inside your home. Joe misses practice, but he doesn't care. Your health and sanity are far more critical. Today, your parents are coming over, which sends you into a further spiral.

"I don't even know what to say! What were you thinking!" Your mother shouts, pacing the living room. Joe's parents and your father sit quietly to the side while your mother spends the next 10 mins chewing you and Joe out.

"You don't even want to know what the people at my church have been saying about you!" Your mother directs her anger toward you this time.

"Ma'am-"

"Boy, do not even fix those lips to interrupt me. I am speaking to my daughter."

"I understand that, but I'm not going to let you speak to my wife like that." Joe stands up in front of you protectively. Your mother's eyes widen along with everyone else.

"Your what?" Robin speaks up, this time entirely shocked by this news.

"What we did was wrong. I know that. I ended this with Nicole. I know I should have been upfront about everything, but I wasn't. That's on me. I kept telling Cheeks things with Nicole were over, and she believed me. So don't put it all on her. We love each other, and I'm going to be with her. I'm going to marry her. She is the mother of my child and future children. I'm not going to let you or anyone on this Earth disrespect her, ma'am." Joe's words take the room by surprise, and shut your mother up. Your dad coughs. Mr.Burrow comes forward.

"Joe came to me some time ago and told me about them."

"You knew?" Robin's voice is filled with disappointment. Your dad stands up.

"I think we all knew deep down. Look at them. The kid's been in love with my daughter since he was 12. Our daughter has been equally in love with him too. Right now, all we can do is support our children. I don't care what the media or church says about my daughter. Because she is my daughter, and I know her." Your dad kisses your head, and Mr.Burrow nods. Your mother leaves the room, and Robin stares at you and Joe.

"Dad." You whisper, hugging him.

"Your mom will take some time, but she will get over it. You and Joe are adults. What choices you make do not define the whole picture." He says, kissing your head before going off to find your mother. Mr. Burrow pulls Joe away, and Robin finally gets up. She puts her hands on your belly, smiling with tears in her eyes.

"That's my grandbaby."

You nod your head.

"I'm happy. I wish you would have said something to me. You or Joe, but I get it. You're not little kids anymore. No one wants to run to their parents." Robin continues rubbing your belly until your mother comes back. She won't even look at you. You don't blame her. Your mother grabs her things and leaves with your father behind her. Joe's parents stay awhile talking to the both of you; they leave an hour later when Helen comes.

"So here's the thing we need to take this thing head on."

"What are our options?" You ask, biting your lip.

"Interviews. You need to do one or Joe." She says, staring at you. You look at Joe for an answer.

"I can't. Doing an interview like this is too personal. There's nothing else?" Joe stands, running his hand through his hair. He's flustered and pissed, so you try your best to keep him calm by holding his hand.

"I-I'll do it." You whisper. It's been days since you've heard your own voice outside of crying. Joe shakes his head.

"I'll do it. Baby, I want you to rest. You don't need to be in front of the camera for them to ridicule you even more. I will come clean about everything."

"This is good. You two need to go out on a date. Show the world how in love you guys are. Your parents need to be on board with this too. A family outing. That's good." Helen claps at her brilliant plan. You give Joe an uneasy look. There is no way your mother would agree to this. Helen tells Joe she will take care of the interview and let him know when it is all set. The object is to get in front of the TV before Nicole. After Helen leaves, you're left alone with Joe. There hasn't been much talking between you two since the story broke up. Joe follows you to the bedroom, contemplating what to say. You sit on the bed staring out the window. Joe squats in front of you, rubbing your legs.

"I'm sorry about all of this. I should have ended things with Nicole right away. Talk to me. Please?" He begs. Your eyes look down at him, but you can't bring yourself to acknowledge his words.

"I need to go to work." This is your only response. You push his hands off your legs and walk to the bathroom. Joe stands up and follows you, but you slam the door in his face. You know you have no right to be mad. This is just as much your fault as his. But it hurts, and being pregnant fuels every little emotion inside you. So the only way you know how to cope is to ignore Joe and go to work, burying yourself in something you love.

You don't know why you thought work would be the best place to be because half the staff keeps asking you questions. People you've never met from the other departments. Tate protects you from most of their comments and questions, threatening to beat them up.

"Mr.Cove? Tell me where the pain is?" You ask, checking on a patient.

"Uhh, my right."

You look at the chart, which said his left side was the trouble area.

"Your right?" You question, walking to the other side of the bed.

"Yeah. I think. I need to ask you a question."

"What's up?" You ask, lifting his shirt.

"How long was the affair with Jie Burrow, and is that his child?" The man asks, pulling a tape recorder out of his pocket. You smack it out of his hand and call security.

"Come on! The silence is killing everyone! It has to be his child, right?" The guy shouts as security removes him. You return to the office, where you find Mike and the Hospital Director, Max. The board called a meeting to determine if you are eligible to remain head of the ED. You stand in the room watching everyone vote.

"All in favor of removing her as head of the ED? Raise your hands." Elaine says. Seven out of nine people raise their hands. Max looks around the room, shocked.

"We don't have a choice. The scandal will only cause further donations to stop. We're sorry. Mike will be named head immediately." Elaine states.

"What we do in our personal lives has nothing to do with work. She has worked her ass off-"

"Max, it's fine. I'll get going." You whisper, walking out. Mike wears a big victory smile. You don't burst into tears until you get home. Joe pulls you into a hug apologizing again. He was going to practice but said he would miss it and stay with you. You shake your head.

"I'll be okay. Quinn is coming this evening. Go to practice. you missed enough days." You whisper. Joe kisses your lips and grabs his bags. At practice, not much is said to him about the scandal. Everyone is focused on going to the championship and then the Superbowl. In the locker room, Ja'Marr sits beside Joe, shaking his head.

"How's Cheeks?"

"Not good." Joe looks down at his phone. Helen was able to get him an interview for 20/20.

"If there is anything we can do, let me know. It's really shitty how Nicole went about this. Like there is no way she didn't know the story was coming out." Ja'Marr says. Joe nods his head.

"Good looking out. Right now, Cheeks is struggling. They fired her from the head of ED."

"That's crazy. She's an amazing doctor." Sam chimes in. Joe nods his head. Dj walks by, not saying a word but making sure Joe hears him chuckling. Joe stands up, and Ja'Marr jumps and stands before him.

"Don't let him get to you. Focus on taking care of Cheeks and getting this ring." Ja'Marr tells him. Joe grabs his things and leaves the locker room. Leaning on his car is a young woman.

"I'm not answering any questions. Get off my car." Joe says, throwing his bag in the backseat.

"I didn't want things to get like this, Joe. It was honestly a huge mistake. I just wanted things with you and Nicole to be over. I thought she would end things. And the other girl, I thought if I scared her, she would stop too. I'm sorry."

"What? Who are you?"

"Your biggest fan. Here this is for you." She tries to hand Joe an envelope, but Joe reaches over to grab her hood. The girl drops the envelope and runs. Joe picks it up and empties the content in his hands. Inside are photos of DJ and Nicole from when he first got drafted. Joe looks around for the girl but can't find her when he gets home. Quinn is in the kitchen for the first time in days; he hears your laughter. Joe walks in and leans against the door frame watching you and Quinn.

"Joseph!" She waves him over. Joe stands behind you, rubbing your belly. You lean to the side so he can kiss your cheek.

"How are my babies?" He whispers into your ear. You nod. You were actually feeling better because of Quinn. Dr. Brian called you, telling you it wouldn't let this slide and would have it handled by Monday. Quinn walks away to answer a phone call, and Joe tells you about the interview. He shows you the photos of Nicole and DJ. You place the photos down on the counter.

"So this all came from that stalker. Your fan. Joe, that's scary. What did they want from this?"

"Me to be single, I guess. I didn't look at her face well, but I think we'll be okay right now. I will figure something out about it next week." Joe holds you and sighs. He asks you what he should do with the pictures. You tell him not to leak it. You don't want to fight dirty with Nicole. The next day you build up the strength to speak with your mother. She sits across from you while your father and Quinn stay in the kitchen.

"I don't hate you. I'm not mad, just disappointed. Everyone is saying such nasty things about you. They called you the new age Monica Lewinsky." Your mother shakes her head. You try to cover your laugh, but you can't. You start laughing hysterically. Your mother looks at you like you have two heads and laughs. Both of you are laughing so much that tears are rolling down your faces.

"Monica? That is the funniest thing I have ever heard." You wipe your eyes, and your mother smiles. She stands up and takes a seat next to you.

"I had to say unholy things to the women at the church. I will never let anyone disrespect my baby or my grandchild. I love you both so much, and Joseph. If you are happy, all I can do is support you. I hope you learned from your mistake."

"I mean, I have the man of my dreams. I don't plan on cheating or being a side piece again."

Your mother frowns.

"Don't talk about yourself like that."

"Mom, it's true. I've come to terms with what our relationship was. But we're past that, so we will focus on our family now and growing." You rub your belly, wearing a big smile. Your mother kisses your head and rubs your belly. Your father joins you with Quinn. Before you know it, Friday arrives. You and Joe have been seen out and about without a care in the world of what people think. While in LA for the interview, Paparazzi followed you guys, and you did your best to ignore them and their questions. You sat behind the scenes watching Joe sit across from the host.

"So, How about you tell us about her? Just the story between you two."

Joe smiles.

"We met in 6th grade during this meet new sixth graders event. She is allergic to bees, so when I met her, her face was swollen. She had just got stung by a bee. That's where the nickname Cheeks came from. In the back of my mind, I've always loved her since that moment. I couldn't really put my feelings into words." Joe chuckles.

"But you knew it was love. You guys dated?"

"We dated in college, yeah. We broke up because I went on to LSU, and she stayed to start her internship. We just kind of fell apart after the breakup."

"So things with Nicole. Why cheat?"

Joe sighs. This was hard for him; you knew it and gave him an encouraging smile.

"I wanted to end things with Nicole, but she was going through a lot, so I didn't want to add to the heartache. In the long run, I was a fool for that. I hurt both women in the process. I've apologized to Nicole many times. I completely understand if she doesn't accept my apology." Joe states. You told him not to bring up Nicole's threats because it would only look bad on his part. To the world, Nicole is the only victim. Joe continues answering every question thrown at him. He responds with honesty and with ease. It warms your heart every time he talks about you and his daughter.

"I'm excited to be a father. I'm excited to marry my first love, and I'm excited about everything in the future."

"What would you like to say to the fans who feel like you've let them down?"

"I would like to say I'm sorry. At the end of the day, I am a human, and I have flaws. I love this woman, and that is not one of my flaws, and I would like everything to pass and to move on. I know it will take some time for people to forgive me, but I am working on being a better man." Joe's words are soft-spoken.

"Anything you want to end on?"

"Cheeks, I love you. I'm sorry that you have to go through all of this because of me, but if I had to do it again, I would love you each and every time. In every life, In every world. I promise I will find you and love you every time." Joe is now looking at you. You wipe your tears and whisper you love him back. The guy ends the interview and shakes Joe's hand wishing him the best of luck. When Joe takes off his mic and makes his way over to you, you waddle as fast as you can to him, meeting him halfway and kissing him with so much love and passion. Everyone in the room smiles, looking on.

"I love you so much." You cry. Joe smiles in between kisses.

"Yeah? Enough to marry me tonight?" He asks. You nod your head.

"But My parents and-"

"Already handled that," Quinn says, showing her phone. You guys finish up on set and leave for a tiny little chapel where Joe's parents and your parents are waiting. Fran and Quinn stand to the side as you walk down the aisle. And in that tiny little chapel, you guys get married. You guys fly back to Cincinnati so Joe can get ready for his game. After the interview, people seem to have a better picture of you and Joe. And the weeks go by quieter than that scandal-breaking week. Joe is going to the Superbowl, and everyone is in a better place. Nicole does an interview that doesn't add on to your hate but doesn't make people like you more. But recently, you've come to terms with not caring about the outside world's opinion about you or Joe. You post Joe all over your IG and limit the comment sections for your mental health, and so Joe doesn't start cursing people out because he has twice already on his backup, of course. Joe posted you one time on his story, and the majority of people loved it; maybe because you are pregnant, no one wants to bully a pregnant person.

The night before the Superbowl, Joe's attention is focused on the game, which is driving you crazy. You'll be nine months soon, and your hormones have been through the roof, so you sit on his lap, cockwarming him. Joe rubs your back and turns rewinds the play. You want to move badly, but Joe only allowed you in this position if you stayed like that for 30 minutes. You shift, causing him to groan.

"Has it been 30 mins?" You whine. Joe kisses your neck.

"It's only been 10 mins, baby. Stop." Joe warns, his voice getting deep. You smirk and shift in his lap again. Your belly was preventing you from being close to him.

"You've been studying this same footage all week. Philly this, Philly that. fuck me right now." You moan, circling your hips. Joe groans and presses pause. He holds your hips and starts bouncing you on his cock.

"You are so needy, Cheeks. Begging me all week to fuck this pretty little pussy. Why?"

"I miss-mm-mm you." You moan, stuttering, when Joe's tip touches your cervix. Joe speeds up, bouncing you on his lap like a rag doll. You take every inch and begin sobbing as you feel your walls breaking; an orgasm follows after.

"Feels good. So good." You cry as you cum on his dick. Joe smirks and lifts you with his dick still inside of you. he carries you to the bed holding your legs up as he fucks you into the mattress. You awakened a monster because you knew before a big game Joe enjoyed fucking pretty much all night. During college, he would fuck you all night only to wake you right before 6 am practice to fuck you again. And just like college Joe takes you all night, but this time he lets you sleep in, cooking you breakfast in the morning.

"Nervous for tonight?"

"A little, but I have a good feeling," Joe says as his phone rings. You look at the name. Both of you are shocked.

"Nicole?" Joe answers, putting it on speaker.

"I just wanted to wish you good luck."

"Thanks," Joe replies. The line is quiet.

"Why didn't you leak anything about my bullying or my threats? Why would you take all the heat? You found out about me and DJ, right? I mean, it was only twice better than what you did to me."

"It wasn't worth it. I hurt you, and I was going to pay for it. Whatever happens next for you is on you. You can't live your life being nasty to everyone you meet." Joe answers. Nicole is quiet again.

"I hate you, and I don't think I will ever get over how you made me feel, but I hope you win."

"Thanks. Goodbye, Nicole." Joe ends the call and gives you a what the fuck look. You laugh and lay back on your bed. Joe kisses your naked body before picking you up to shower with him. After the shower, you dress and get ready to meet his parents for lunch and game time. Quinn sits next to you as you get ready to cheer Joe on. He finds you in the crowd and blows you kisses during warm-ups. The game is neck and neck, with the Eagles scoring, then the Bengals. Usher is the halftime performance, and you and Quinn lose your mind during the set. During the third quarter, you start to feel uneasy and slight pain.

"Are you okay?" Robin asks with a worried expression. You nod, but then another pain rips through your belly.

"Something is wrong with the baby." You cry, buckling over. Quinn jumps up.

"Honey, you stay here. Quinn and I will take her to the medical unit." Robin says, helping you out of the area. From the Medical unit, you are sent directly to the hospital.

"You're going to have to baby today or the wee hours of tomorrow."

"But I'm not due until the end of February. I really can't have the baby. Joe's playing. I can't give birth." You cry. Robin holds your hand, trying to get you to calm down.

"You are in the right time frame to give birth, and your blood pressure is very high, so the best thing to do is to induce labor." The doctor says. You nod your head.

"Can you at least turn on the game?"

"Of course. Let's get you started." The doctor says, leaving. Robin calls Joe's dad to tell him the news. Your mother and father hop on the first flight to Vegas. They induce labor as you sit there watching Joe battle for his ring.

"Ouch! I need the-"

"On it!" Quinn jumps up to get the nurse. You find out you are 7 centimeters dilated and ask for an epidural. After you get it, you are doing much better and can enjoy the game.

"Touchdown!" You, Robin, and Quinn shout as Ja'marr scores a touching putting the Bengals in the lead with only 30 seconds left in the game. Joe goes off the field feeling amazing. He watches the next 30 seconds praying for the defense to hold it down. And they do. The Bengals win 24-14. Joe cheers with his teammates, forgetting to look into the crowd. A few people grab him for an interview. Helen grabs him before he can get caught up.

"She's going to be giving birth soon. You need to go!" She shouts, smiling. Joe looks at the crowd and doesn't see you. He takes off his pads and sprints to the back. Joe gets to the hospital in record time.

"You did it!" You shout. Joe kisses your lips.

"Today? We're having a baby today?" He asks. His mother nods her head.

"I'm dilating pretty fast. Joella is ready to come out and see us."

Joe doesn't leave your side for the rest of the night, and at 5:15 am, you give birth to a healthy baby girl. Joe tries to hide his tears, but he can't stay calm. When he makes skin-to-skin contact, he breaks down. You cry, staring at your husband holding your daughter.

A/N: Well lol This chapter is blah! But I hope it was decent enough. I'm sorry if it sucked! If you guys wanted more drama sometimes I hate dragging the story out too long and I felt it was time to wrap it up! There will be a short follow-up chapter! For sure! What kind of series would you guys like to see after this?

Tags: @joselyn001@savii999@lostaurorax@simpgirl-lat@edenhess @blinkloverx3 @dboanalooaa @nm112495 @mhm-ok-sure@katiehud@blu3jeanbaby@mrosales16@wineauntharry @Cosmolover96 @loviingjihyo @hrlzy @spideybrina @wickedfun9 @dessxoxsworld @Tjb113 @heartsml @munsonrry @blu3jeanbaby

#joe burrow x you #joe burrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow imagine #second string #joe burrow x u #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fluff

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pocket-watcher · 5 months ago

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Okay, y’all asked for it. Here is a very BAD Hypno scene I wrote some point between ages 13-15. I lightly edited this so that it’s not AS confusing but it’s still pretty confusing ngl 😘

(Brief context, this is from a story about a magical school built on top of a mine where crystals within it give you magical powers and no idk what the fuck I was on about either)

Al moved between Jake and I.

“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky.” I hated that nickname. “You are so oblivious, aren’t you? The reason Jake doesn’t like me is obviously because you prefer me over him.” Al chuckled, putting his arm around me.

I froze for a second to register that ridiculous statement.

“What?!”

“Hey!” Jake said defensively. He shoved Al’s shoulder lightly, but before he could Al grabbed his hand.

“I don’t think you quite know what you’re messing with.” He smirked, turning back to me before throwing Jake’s arm back to his side.

I pushed Al off me.

“Nick- come on. You don’t honestly think he’s worth it now do you he said, putting his hands on my shoulders, peeking around from behind me. “We all know you’re the most powerful here. And with that crystal and that brain of yours do you really need petty friends dragging you down.”

He emphasised the word friends and I saw Jake’s teeth clench.

“Why not trade these guys for a handsome prince who is actually brave enough to make a move?”

I turned my head to him.

“That’s enough, Al.” Jake said, pulling me out of the way.

“No, I think she’d prefer to be with someone a little better, don’t you think?” Also pushed, sizing up to him.

“Stop! Who the hell gets to decide what I want. What if I want neither of you! Sometimes you can be both as bad as each other.”

“Wow, Jay, looks like you like them feisty. But I’m pretty sure she’d give you up in a heartbeat.”

“You do not get to decide what I choose! I am my own person!”

“Oh!” He smirked down at me. “I think I can change that…”

Suddenly his hand rose and tilted my chin up to meet his eyes. They flashed gold and…

I feel… a bit….. woozy…

I felt my body drop to the floor. I heard yelling and someone checking my pulse.

“What did you do to her?!” An echoing voice whispered. Or maybe it was yelling? Everything’s so distant… so detached from me…

“Ever heard of the tale of the Princess Amelia? One day Camelious’ army attacked her home, kidnapping her and eventually killing her. So sad…”

I fought against sleep. My emotions jumbled.

“But what if they didn’t kill her?” Al questioned, an excitable tone in his voice. “What if they used a very special type of crystal… a golden on, to entice her into aiding in one final escape from the palace?”

My eyes are so heavy… footsteps flood my ears. Light slowly moving away from me.

“What if he found a very special girl with a very special gift? And used her to mend his own crystal? Well, let’s find out shall we…”

Al made his way over to me and stood me up. I slowly opened my eyes.

It was him. My beloved. My Al. He blessed me with his embrace before looking back to an ally of ours. An ex ally.

“Nicole?” Jake questioned. I looked at him and chuckled.

“Darling, we best be on our way. Just one more thing…”

“Anything.” I said and I meant it. I would do anything for him.

He looked at Jake, who was eyeing us suspiciously. Al brought me closer and pecked me on my lips lightly and slowly, before turning to Jake and winking.

“I’ll kill you.” Jake said, pushing closer. “What the hell did you do to her?!”

“I just persuaded her. It was easy really. I mean, she is the only one without the Gods’ protection. Gods cannot interfere with those of equal power or position. Interesting. I thought it was a ridiculous idea although now I’m quite fond of it.”

I looked at Jake, noticing him reaching for his crystal. I shifted my hand and made the crystal crash out of his pocket, sliding across the floor.

“Oh don’t try anything. I mean, this is a God you’re dealing with.” Al spoke harshly. “Darling I must go. You will kill the boy and then be released from your trance. Don’t worry, I’ll come collect you when you are of use.” He said with a wink.

And with that he left the room.

“Nicky, please! It’s me!” Jake cried. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t have to.” I forced out. N-no! I must follow orders. What am I doing?

Jake backed away, fear in his eyes.

No! I can’t do this.

“Nicole? Come back to me.”

I raised my dagger. I mouthed that I was sorry.

He grabbed his crystal and smashed it against my head, magic electrifying through my body.

I collapsed to the ground once more in excruciating pain. The gold left my eyes.

“Jake..?” Was all I could manage before I drifted into unconsciousness.

#well that is a train wreck I hope you enjoyed #yes Nicky is a girlboss god idk what to tell you #someone send this poor kid to English class #writing full novels up in here #hypnok1nk #hypnosis #mind control #brainwashing #hypnotized #watcher’s rambles #watcher writes #watcher’s stories

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okami-zero · 2 years ago

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So finally got my greebly little mitts on the Dead Space remake and oh hohoooo...

I am LOVING IT!

So, I fell in love with Dead Space when, after finding out about the pre-orderable special edition of Dead Space 2 at my local GameStop, I did preorder it for PS3 and bought a pre-owned copy of the first game.

I proceeded to play non-stop in a dark living room for SEVERAL HOURS. I am not generally a horror person, but Dead Space was(is) THAT. GOOD.

Now, with the remake... Oh my lawdy... So, they kept Isaac's VA, and Nicole's VA from Dead Space 2. I beliece one of the voices from the audio logs is also the same. And they actually based the character's face on their VAs, which is neat (though Nicole's first appearance she looked much older than her VA, but that might be down to my system and her first appearance being a grainy vid recording; the aged look is gone later on).

And Isaac TALKS! Like actual lines! Yhey took yhe bits where someone was kind of speaking for him and gave him LINES, and it makes him so much more REAL! And there are aide quests that show Nicole soing stuff (I just started Chapter 3 Course Correction), but...WOW. They took the OG, polished the ever-living out of it, then added some amazing new stuff and polished again!

The weapons! I only have the trusty Plasma Cutter (my beloved), thr pulse rifle (which is gained in a very new way), and the Ripper (a circular saw powered by magnets and SPITE) right now. But... Okay my cutter needs upgrading, but the pulse rifle is actually VIABLE??? And the Ripper, holy shit... Just let the necromorphs run into the floating blade for a few second and then launch it at them. XD

Also... Well, they definitely upped the gore, if only by adding more people to find right before their inexorable and gruesome ends. >.<

One other thing- you hear Isaac's heartbeat when his pulse starts to rise, and lemme tell you... That ratchets the tension almost as much as the musical stings.

Oh, and the necromorphs. The necromorphs. Those squishy, disgusting monstrosities. I have actually come across a few I thought were playing dead to ambush me, but were actually just...dead. And some that were not. But I do not discriminate, I just keep making Necromorph Soup... 🎶Necromorph Soup, it's a very simple recipe, just giblets🎶 - sorry, Miracle of Sound popped into my head there. XD But yea, some of the 'morphs will fake you out and bust vents but not come out of them. Inconsiderate buttheads.

I HAVE gotten jumpscared a couple times, but NOT by monsters. Just by loud, creepy environmental things. Like bysting pipes, or showers turning on abruptly and thrn turning off.

So, yea. Excellent remkae so far, cannot wait to dig in more later!

#dead space #dead space remake #cw gore mention #sort of #it's a solid remake and if you can stomach gorey horror stuff #give it a look!

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achillieus · 4 years ago

Text

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, infidelity, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, this part is full of angst and built up tension,

part: 3/6

(other parts) (masterlist)

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing. Some days it makes him feel like he is only a porcelain face on screen. Nothing more than photographs and rumors. He had once told an interviewer he was scared people would never know the real Sebastian. What he meant was that he was worried he’d wake up one day and the real him would be vanished.

The world would have eaten him alive.

Walking you home, in empty streets in a small country makes it all easier. His mind is clear of dazzling thoughts and his heart is not racing up. He can smile and no one will be there to take a picture of him.

Somehow that makes him smile more.

And when he does, it feels like Christmas. And you are certain there will come a day where you’ll be so close to oblivion and unable to remember what mint tastes like or what your favorite color is, but you’ll still have the turned up corners of his mouth painted in your head.

He stops walking. You look at him confused. He’s fidgeting with his fingers.

“Back at the party,” he takes a long breath as if trying to slow down his heartbeat, “You were talking with that tall guy.”

He sounds terrified. You don’t understand why. He thinks it’s better that way.

“Yeah I was.” There’s a flicker of surprise in your voice.

“Do you know him well?” You realize you have stopped in front of a pharmacy, the halogen light above you, turning your skin a sick green color.

“I know he’s an actor.” You take a step, finding the courage to walk away from him. “He’s kinda famous here.”

You can hear him move close behind you.

“Do you want me to ask Argyris if he’s single?”

There’s mockery in his voice. It makes you feel intoxicated. It’s your turn to stop walking. Your gaze falls on his face and Sebastian can feel his eyes sting but he keeps them open; wide and pale blue.

Almost green, under this light.

“No.”

“Oh don’t be sh-“

“No, I mean it. I would never date a famous guy.”

“Why?” A hasted breath escapes his trembling lips. And for a moment you think of kissing him right there; in the middle of the street, but you never do.

His world moves too fast for people like us.

That’s what you want to yell back at him, but then you remember;

The evening Sebastian fell asleep in your couch, he was more than a famous guy. He was clutching on your pillow like a kid and he was humming to himself like your father used to.

And he smiled as he fell asleep.

There is no argument left in you. He’s just a boy.

“I’m scared.” Your words slowly suffocate him. He feels the weight of your heart pulling him down.

He nods.

The next two days pass in a blur. You can hear him laugh with people as they walk up the stairs to Argyris’ flat. You’re not used to him not stopping at your door. It makes your cheeks red and your eyes filled with salty tears.

You haven’t realized until now, but you’ve become dependent on his presence.

So when you open your eyes at 4am with your phone buzzing with an Instagram message, you bite your cheeks.

Are you awake?

You stare at the screen to make sure you read it all correct, until it turns black and then lights up once again.

Why are you scared?

You don’t have to be scared with me.

I’m trying. You want to answer. Help me. You want to answer. Please.

You put your phone away until the words turn blurry.

He’s back at your door the following night. He’s wearing a white tank top and his rings. He must have just finished shooting.

You keep staring at each other, both tongue-tied with the words you’ll never say. He looks worried and desperate. You look tired and desperate. Taylor Swift is playing in the background.

“No more AC/DC?” He laughs and your eyes smile.

“Do you want to talk?” He asks.

You shake your head like you’re at war with yourself.

“Do you want to just stay here?” Your voice is too silent but it’s almost deafening him.

Sebastian thinks that he wants tons of things. He wants to hold you. And he wants to touch you. Everywhere. And he wants to know why there’s sorrow surrounding you. And he wants to take it all away.

And he wants you.

But he knows that he can’t tell you that. These words are too heavy for you to carry on your shoulders. At least for now.

“I’ll stay.” He says with a breath.

You give him an almost smile and all you can feel is gratitude.

You lay in your bed together. You’ve slept with other guys in that bed before. And it’s been nude and sloppy and brutal. But this is different. This is intimacy in its purest form. You’re both fully clothed but you both feel naked. And so close. So close.

All Sebastian can hear is the sound of your breathing and every bone inside him is breaking. He is afraid he’s turning paralyzed.

And then you move your body and bring your forehead next to his. Sebastian inhales deeply. You smell of faded vanilla body cream.

You look at him and you know then you can get used to that. You bury your fingers in the hem of his shirt. You want him to come closer. He knows.

“I’ll stay love,” his voice is steady and sincere “Anytime.”

He calls you love because there’s nothing else to call you. He calls you love because you both need him too.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Sebastian thinks you’re always too sensible. It’s something you keep between the hollows of your body. “But it’s okay.”

His hand is in your hair. It soothes you.

“What happened? What broke you?” he whispers.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how everything started. It's hard to remember but there is one image in the back of your eyes that crawls through your skin and makes you shiver. You try to ignore it.

“I don’t know.” He turns his gaze at you but you look at the cold ceiling. It’s so much easier this way.

He doesn’t answer. He just draws circles in the back of your palm and places his lips against the scalp of your head. And while you’ve never been much of a science person, you’re certain this is how a nuclear attack emerges.

When the sun rises and you wake up, he’s not there. Earth moves slowly as the cold sheets press against your skin.

It’s early, there is a soft breeze coming in from your open window. A man is bickering with this wife across the street.

You can hear her call him a liar.

I’ll stay love.

You can hear him yell his apologies.

Anytime.

Why do people lie? Why do we lie?

You don’t try to search for him. You take a shower and drink some chocolate milk. You pay attention to the silence in the room. You almost forget your heart is still beating.

You bump into Argyris’ girlfriend while taking out the garbage. You like her a lot. She’s strong and pretty and smart. You wonder sometimes, how exactly that feels.

You pray she doesn’t mention him. It doesn’t work.

“He must be flying right now.” Suddenly you feel as if there is something rotten inside your chest. It makes you want to graze your skin and throw away everything that's inside.

You look at her slightly confused.

“He’s flying to Toronto; he has to attend a festival there.” She smiles. You’ve noticed she always smiles.

You just nod and step out of the building. Her voice stops you.

“He’s coming back in some days.”

“I don’t care.” Now she laughs.

“There’s no need to lie.” You take a sharp breath. “He cares too.”

You want to believe her words but they seem like choke chains.

You throw your garbage away.

You keep your rotten chest.

Sebastian sits back at his seat and orders a hundred and one drinks. The airplane is chasing the sun. He’s chasing his thoughts. Neither will ever catch up.

He used to like travelling. Airports, suitcases and foreign hotel rooms made him feel free. Now they make him feel the opposite.

The material on his seat is rugged. He wants to go back to your soft sheets. He can’t.

And then he imagines a place and a time where he could just kiss you without any possible consequences. He imagines a place where you could rest your bodies together for a long time without worries weighing you down. He imagines a place where he gets what he wants. A place where that thing between you two is more than enough.

The sun blinds him. He closes the small window and then his eyes.

Being Sebastian Stan is not a simple thing.

Some days he can’t take it.

You’re sitting on the floor and it’s almost 9 in the morning. You’ve calculated the time difference and it’s 2 in the morning where he is. That sounds wrong. Almost scary.

He left three days ago but he’s everywhere. There are photos of him wearing stupid floral shirts and posing in a sophisticated way. And there’s Nicole Kidman next to him.

God. I’ve become infatuated with a man who plays in movies with Nicole Kidman and Robert Downey Jr.

That’s what you think and you know you’re doomed.

You expect him to send you a message or a picture at first, but he doesn’t. You wonder if your time together was only a blurry puzzle of disconnected memories that somehow fits in his past.

He’ll simply forget all of it.

You try not to think about him but then you meet Argyris in the lobby and you have to bite the inside of your mouth so his name doesn’t jump out from your lips.

You go to bed early that day. You hold onto your pillow and you count the hours that separate you.

(13 hours with a plane)

(25 days with a boat)

You count and you fall asleep.

And you fall in love.

It’s not uncommon to rain in Toronto. But today rain feels heavier on Sebastian’s skin. He remembers the day he met you; it was hot and the sun made the window glass look like it was about to melt. That memory is the cause of his shivering.

Once upon a time he was in love. He was in love with a girl who had ethereal written all over her body. He was in love with a girl who was destined for divinity.

But those were the old days; they are dead and gone now. Your skin glistening under the Athenian sun changed it all.

It’s not easy to feel this way. The sky understands so it opens up and pours down on his dark hair. He presses his eyes closed with his fingers. And he tries to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t think about you that often.

He can’t.

Not even when he has a deity as his girlfriend.

The next time you see him, his hair is a little longer and much messier than you remember. And you have to devour all the sense that’s left inside you as not to touch it with your bare hand.

He has a cigarette in his fingers and a dark jacket thrown around his shoulders and everyone’s asking him about the festival. You just sit on the corner of your neighbor’s flat and listen to laughter and glasses clicking against each other. And you smile.

Smile; because he’s here.

And then he notices you and you’re pretty sure his eyes linger on your face a little longer than it's normal for humans. And his gaze is so brilliantly blank and loony that you don’t know how to respond. And then he starts to cough. And he never looks at you for the rest of the night.

You want to believe it’s better this way.

But it makes you so angry; you want to clench your teeth hard.

It goes like this; you don’t exchange any words for the next two days and it feels like your lips will start to bleed.

And you don’t know but his head feels like battlefield.

“When do you know you can’t stop it?” He asks Argyris. He feels ashamed.

“When you don’t want to stop it.”

He grabs the beer can and drinks his confusion away. He hopes alcohol will send his thoughts to sleep but instead it sends him to your door.

He rests his head against the wooden material. He can hear water running down and he can hear you humming a song.

And the foreign words make no sense to him but somehow they sound like lyrical poetry.

He waits for the water to stop and then he knocks.

Your hair is wet and sticks to your blue shirt. Your eyes grow wide when you see him standing there.

“I thought you’d never come at my door again.”

He looks at the floor.

“I shouldn’t.”

He sounds defeated; defeated by his own self. And you can smell the flammable liquid on his breath. And you can see that he has his nails pressed against his palm. You take his hand in yours and he closes his eyes. You caress the little cuts with your fingers. There are no scars but the skin is still red and painted with fear. You understand and it makes you feel dirty and obscene.

You look thoughtful for a moment and then you decide you can’t go on like this. It will split your souls.

“How’s Canada?” His eyes fill with surprise and he laughs. It gives you pride.

“Never been?”

He takes a step inside your place and his eyes fall on the empty bottle of pills at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t say a word about it.

You love him for that.

“I’ve never been anywhere.” Your cheeks are flushed with a soft raspberry color.

Sebastian realizes then that he wants to show you the entire world. Every corner of it. He wants to hold your hand as you walk beneath the Corsican stars. And he wants to memorize the Northern lights with you by his side. And he wants to see you laugh as he falls off his surf board in New Zealand. And he wants every clich�� thing there is to do.

His heart stretches at the thought of it.

“Canada is beautiful in its own way.” He looks out of your window.

You wonder if he’s trying to find some more constellations in the sky, but then he turns around and walks towards you.

“I’ve been there a lot of times.”

Of course you have, you think.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ears. It’s still damp and cold.

“Have you been to a lot of places?” He smiles and nods.

And then you can sense it; the sharp feeling of heartbreak crawling under your skin. You try to ignore it.

“I used to be grateful I travel all the time.”

You place your hand on his chest. The beating makes you calm.

“You’re not grateful anymore?”

He rubs his palm over his face.

“I am,” he inhales “But sometimes I just want to stay where I am.”

Yeah, I know.

He leaves an hour later, still drunk.

Still in love.

On Sunday, he takes you out for dinner. You tell him you don’t like dates. He promises it’s not a date.

You know you’re both lying.

He orders some red wine and he drinks as he watches you eat. It all feels natural to him. Somewhere at the back of his head though, there’s still some rationality left, that makes him think, this can’t be wrong, when it feels so natural.

He doesn’t drink any more.

You’re playing with the maraschino cherry on your dessert when his phone rings and your world comes crashing down.

You don’t intend to but you see the caller ID.

Love.

He had called you love one night.

He feels too guilty to look at you so he grabs the device and gets out of the place.

You want to throw the ice cream on the floor.

And then you want to hit the wall; with your head. But you can’t. So you just bite down at the cherry and wait for him to come back.

And when he does, things are different.

He doesn’t to try to make jokes and you don’t laugh. His eyes are everywhere but on you and your hand stays away from his.

You tell him you’re done with dessert so you can leave.

He has never felt more relieved.

Your pace is fast, but he catches up. You can’t outrun him.

His breath quickens as he comes closer. It’s almost innocent and childlike, the look he gives you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers and it makes you laugh. You laugh and you shake your head and it’s not enough.

“Why?” He can taste the bitterness all over you. “This wasn’t date. So why are you sorry?”

You keep walking and his breath keeps echoing in your ears. You find the entrance of your building.

You’ve seen the place a hundred times but only now you notice how old it looks. It makes you disgusted. It makes you want to vomit.

It starts with him saying he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

And then you rest your body at the soiled wall, trying to remind yourself you’ve had your heart broken before. And your eyes are not dry anymore. And you can taste salt in your lips. And he comes closer and he holds you.

You swear you see tears in his cheeks too, but he’s too fast to wipe them away.

“Have you ever done anything only to regret it a second later?”

You’re not certain which one of you asks but you can hear your bones breaking as you throw your head around and he arches his back.

His hands touch the dried tears on your face and it stings like sewing needles. And his lips touch yours. And for a brief moment you feel like you’re stealing from life.

And he can taste all of you; raw.

And it feels like fists that punch him.

And when you pull away you both have already regretted everything.

“Now you have something to be sorry for.”

You wonder if perhaps a broken dignity is better than a broken heart.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :)

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes #monday the movie #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #letyoudown

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shelikestv · 4 years ago

Text

"You know you're more than that, right?"

The words drag through him like sand. He can't fully digest them in any meaningful way. There's hearing a thing, and knowing it, and he's miles from knowing it.

Dean nods.

Nicole gives him a look. It's soft, it's understanding, but fuck it's also one that suggests she's sees right through him.

"Have you ever heard of survivors guilt?" she says suddenly. She crosses her legs, wrapping laced fingers across her thighs.

Dean shrugs: "Sure. But it's not like I'm suicidal, here. Seems normal to feel some guilt when you're the one that made it out."

His shoulders are stiff, emotions crawling up as he attempts to tamp them down. He gets that this is the place to feel things, but some of it is just... He'd never fully admit it to himself, but some stuff is so big he's not sure he could let himself feel it, even if he wanted to.

"Tell me what that looks like?"

"What?" he chokes.

The floor seems crooked and suddenly Dean wishes he had a marble to drop and roll across it. Something tangible to prove that even the ground was lying.

"If you could rearrange the pieces, make the world what you think it should be, what would that look like?"

He rubs his shoulder, uncomfortably.

"You mean play Chuck?"

She looks at him confused and he shakes her off with a hand. Instead he busies himself cleaning the grime beneath his fingernails as if they could transport him away.

"I dunno," he said softly. "Better."

Nicole's skirt is long and red, flowing over the cushions of her chair like blood. How long before she'd bleed for him, too?

"Where is your mind, Dean?"

He coughs, unable to look away from the red waterfall.

"Regrets," he chokes.

Nicole blinks, patient, and adjusts in her seat. She fixes the skirt and it moves, making Dean shiver.

"Tell me about better," she redirects, and he understands it. He's drifting back into his negative feedback loops again. They've talked about that. He looks at her, stilling his hands.

"I'm trying," he says. "I wanna get this, I do, but it all just feels... I dunno, I'm used to punching something. Seems easier."

His knuckles have the scars to prove it and he thumbs one of them.

"Sometimes it is easier," she says plainly. "For a little while."

For all the talks on bravery and pushing through the pain, he knows he needs to start shifting his definitions of things. This place makes up seem down and down seem up, and sometimes it feels like looking in a fun house mirror.

She says nice things to him, and he tries to listen. It's weird. It's good, but in a bad, funny feeling way that makes his gut squirm and has him wishing he could spoon it out. Hurting himself feels better, usually. Or at least expected.

"The mind likes what's familiar. Even if it's creating something that hurts to avoid something that hurts even more. Like cutting the nerves from your hand just because you once got burned on the stove. It's not a permanent solution," she says, "but it can be very convincing sometimes."

Dean rubs a scabbed knuckle on his chin.

"Yeah," he chokes. Then, whispering to the jean-clad, dust-caked curve of his knees: "I wanna try, though."

Nicole nods with a soft smile: "That's all it takes," she says. "Violence is explosive, but undoing the effects is the opposite of that: gentle."

He wonders if that's true, because it's the soft words that feel like he's got both hands pressed tight to the kitchen burners. He's not sure when he's started to wring his fingers together, but he does his best to still them.

But he's not getting burned. Not right now.. He's safe. I'm safe. I'm safe. He repeats Nicole's mantra.

He closes his eyes. Tight. Moment of truth:

"I'd bring them back," he says. "If I could fix it how I wanted."

God, his ribs hurt.

"All of them," he says through slurred words, "in a heartbeat. Every Goddamn person who was cursed enough to know me. I'd...I'd...."

He was fisting his knees, fingernails digging deep. He feels like crying again. Fuck this place for always bringing him here--shame, hot in his chest and anger burning. Maybe if he doesn't look at her.

He does look. She's calm, even, and it still makes him cry. He blinks hard, grabbing the edge of his flannel and using it to wipe the tears. Fuck. Fuck, he hates this. He knows it's good, or at least the months they've done this she's told him it's good, but it feels awful, like someone is taking a pair of pliers to his heart and plucking it to death. He takes gasping breaths.

He counts them slowly to 1-100. Eventually, they calm.

The room is quiet.

Brave--Nicole's voice, surprising him in his head.

He freezes, blinking through red eyes and staring.

She's waiting and for all the mojo and supernatural shit he's seen, this kind of magic had never occurred to him before.

She has no idea.

Suddenly, he really wants to wants to tell her. Even if it's embarrassing as hell. The clock ticks again--that goddamn clock, every session, steady, quiet and infuriating like this place.

He takes a deep breath.

"You were in my head," he says.

He winces at the words.

She smiles, again, and like always it's so soft, he could never think she was mocking him the way all the monsters and demons do. Even if his brain tries to convince him she is.

"What did I say?" She asks, as if all of this were normal. And maybe it is, Dean wouldn't know normal if it bit him in the ass.

He hesitates.

"You told me I'm brave again," he chokes.

Nicole nods. Dean closes his eyes again. For the first time he doesn't see faces behind the lids.

When Nicole speaks again, it's familiar, like some small part of him wanted to steal her words all along. Maybe even someday hear them in his his own voice:

"you are."

#i didn't get this beta-d so i hope it's okay #i just needed an outlet today #i feel like this is a mess haha #but i wanted to send some therapy love dean's way again #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: self harm thoughts #therapy dean #my writing #idk how i feel about this one but i wanted to get something out today #love you guys

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

Text

Double edged scalpel ch. 7

Ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5 ch.6

Summary: in which Cassandra gets bullied and other sappy shenanigans

---

"Oh Nicole dear, so happy to see you again!" Duke's voice was cheerful as ever, tone masterfully crafted over years of being a businessman.

Nicole, taking small steps inside the ornate and now full of items room, greeted him with uncharacteristic giddiness.

"Duke! How's business?"

"Same as always, I'll be heading to Beneviento later tonight to deliver some tools for her," he took a long drag of his cigar and, noticing green eyes scanning over multiple items and said, "I also have your order."

With a childish grin on her face, she approached him, hands shuffling inside the small bag attached to her belt that all staff members had. She pulled out the money owed for her package and, in return, the Duke placed a decently sized box in her arms. With an oof she shifted it in a less precarious position, it's heavy contents seeming to plot against her small frame.

"Unfortunately I can't stay, duty calls. But thank you Duke."

"No worries, I do understand that your employers can be quite," he took another drag of his cigar, looking for the right word. "...demanding"

Nicole chuckled. That was one way to put it.

"Well until next time dear. Or if you find yourself in need of something else, I'll be here until six."

---

She was only wearing a long white towel when she heard a knock on the door. Assuming it was another maid, or even Anita inquiring about whether or not she'd be joining the rest of them for dinner, she opened the door just a crack.

It was a surprise to see none other than Cassandra standing there, her elegant frame in odd contrast with the modest corridor. She flung the door open, letting the brunette inside and took a quick glance down the hall, making sure no maid was on the floor after fainting due to fright.

"What are you doing here?"

"Aw, are you not happy to see me?" She was pouting, but her tone was joking.

Nicole rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips betrayed that she was indeed happy to see her. Cassandra only laughed instead, a beautiful melodious laugh, so unlike the dark cackles heard by prisoners down in the dungeons.

"Just sit down, I need to get dressed," Nicole pointed to the bed before moving to the small dresser and pulling out a clean uniform.

Cassandra went to sit on the slightly disheveled bed, eyes following the redhead's form as she let the towel drop to her feet and started to put on the various layers of her uniform. Then golden eyes darted to the box sitting on the bed. The tape sealing it had been cut not long after Nicole brought it back to her room to make sure all its contents made it safely. Not that she didn't trust the Duke, but postal service was postal service.

"What's this?" Cassandra inquired, trying to read the label but having no success as it had been scribbled over with a marker.

Nicole stilled for a moment, hands frozen on her white button up. She cleared her throat and shyly admitted:

"Actually that's for you. Do open it if you want."

Cassandra's eyes widened, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. The gesture had really caught her off guard. She gingerly lifted the lid, inspecting it's contents for a moment and then hummed.

"And here I was thinking you like my hair. With how much you love to pull on it and all that."

Nicole, now fully clothed and sporting a deep blush, marched to her and plucked the two boxes of red hair dye from gloved hands. She placed them on her nightstand and, with her voice just slightly more high pitched, she turned to the brunette.

"Those are mine, I meant the rest of it." And, after a chuckle, "I mean have you seen my roots? They're horrible!"

Cassandra only gave her a deadpan look and, after a long moment, said: "I think your hair is beautiful."

She didn't wait for a reply, not that it would be anything more than a stammered mumble of course. Instead she chuckled and returned her attention to the box. She examined the rest of its contents and then gingerly lifted one of the few tomes inside. The cover was glossy and malleable, it's pages shiny and with a distinct typography smell to it. It was so unlike her other books, it's pristine white state making it feel extremely out of place in the castle. She glanced at Nicole inquisitively.

"I do appreciate the gift, don't misunderstand me, but surely you know there's a small bookshop's worth of medical books in this castle."

"With all due respect, from what I've seen most of them are at least somewhat outdated. Interesting, yes, but I thought you'd like to learn something more...modern." Then she pulled out another book. "This is the same one I used while studying forensic pathology. It would make teaching you some things easier. Uh… assuming you want that."

Nicole averted her gaze, suddenly unsure of the usefulness of her gift. Cassandra however grabbed her chin between two fingers and pulled her gaze back on her. She smiled, finding the shy demeanor beyond endearing.

"I'd love that."

A small smile appeared on thin lips and Nicole leaned in to kiss Cassandra. It was soft and short, but no less intimate than the deep kisses they shared so many times in Cassandra's bed.

They had to go anyway.

---

Let's go to the library, Cassandra said. It'll be empty, she said.

When Cassandra swung open the intricate door, only to find the other two sisters lounging on one of the couches, it's not like they could do a one eighty and leave the room. That would've been both impolite and highly suspicious.

Instead, Cassandra grabbed her arm protectively and led them to the reading spot farthest from the other two. They placed one of the textbooks on the small desk and Cassandra took out a notebook. This would've been a lot more fruitful with an actual body on hand, but there were still a couple days until the human flesh supply had to be replenished and Cassandra was beyond eager to start on some things. So, for now, they had to settle for theory alone.

It took all of five minutes for the other two sisters to make their way to their desk. Daniela had a giddy yet curious expression on her face, while Bela seemed as unreadable as ever, if not for a glint in her eyes that betrayed her interest.

"Whatcha dooooing?" Came Daniela's voice, who cocked her head not unlike a curious puppy would while looking at the book's contents.

"Working," Cassandra replied, a slight growl accompanying her words.

"Could've fooled me," Bela spoke from behind the youngest sister, eyeing the hand protectively placed on Nicole's waist.

Cassandra snapped her eyes at the blonde, looking ready to throw her notebook at her head but Bela ignored her sister's ire and addressed Nicole instead.

"What are you studying?"

"I uh- just some basic anatomy concepts. Thought it would be a good idea to start with the things that the older books in the castle don't cover."

Bela only hummed, grabbed an ornate chair nearby, and plopped herself at the desk, opposite from the pair. Daniela mimicked her sister, but instead chose to sit down right by Nicole on the small couch. It took more willpower than she would admit not to glue herself to Cassandra's side when Daniela's face came uncomfortably close so she could look over the book's diagrams. She stood still as a statue though. After a couple seconds of silence and Nicole trying to figure out what she was supposed to do, Daniela drew her head back, looking at her with what was possibly the most serious expression she had seen on the youngest sister.

"You do realize we're not going to hurt you right? How could we lay a finger on our dear sister's lover hmm?"

Nicole's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't sure if it was due to the word used to describe her or how Daniela apparently knew that she was utterly terrified of her. Cassandra sighed beside her and, seeming to at least partially read Nicole's thoughts, clarified:

"Your heartbeat."

Oh. Yeah. Yeah her heart was beating a million miles an hour. And apparently the other three vampiric occupants of the room were able to hear it loud and clear. It did very little to ease her mind.

"Please do calm down, it feels like someone is having drumming lessons. Bad ones," Bela complained, head resting in one of her hands like she was already bored.

"Then shove a sock in your ears," Cassandra snapped.

Bela simply leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms above her head. "And risk not hearing my beloved sisters sing along to some pop song?"

Cassandra shut her mouth, a blush now slowly spreading across her cheeks while Daniela burst out into laughter. Even Nicole couldn't help betraying the brunette and letting out a giggle.

"I didn't know you could sing."

"I can't."

"Au contraire dear Cassie! Should I remind you of the last time Dragostea din tei came on the radio? The pathos!" Daniela reached over Nicole's lap to lightly shake her sister's knee through her giggles.

Cassandra only let out a long groan, face now hidden in her palms. "I hate you both."

"Mhm, we love you too," came Bela's reply, accompanied by a chuckle.

Nicole couldn't keep a small laugh while she snaked her arm behind the brunette to show some form of support against the merciless assailants. Maybe not a complete betrayal.

The scene really had something deep within her heart aching beautifully. It reminded her of the countless times she and Alex would mercilessly tease each other, but still have each other's backs through thick and thin. And for this familiarity to come from people that any sane person would consider bloodthirsty monsters? Hell, maybe they should start considering her a monster too, for the only word she could use to describe them in that moment was endearing.

"So," Bela lightly clapped her gloved hands. "Now that your pulse isn't giving me a headache anymore, what are we doing?"

She had a confident smirk on her face, but her eyes betrayed curiosity. Same for Daniela and, although mixed with a hint of annoyance, Cassandra. She opened the book in front of her, one of general human anatomy, and decided that the digestive system would be a good enough starting point.

---

Their little impromptu lesson didn't last more than two hours. Two hours that proved to Nicole just how oddly human all three sisters can be. Of course she had gotten familiar with Cassandra, intimately so, but the other two still felt like two looming monsters hiding in the shadows. At least up until now.

Bela seemed oddly intrigued by Nicole's explanation, although unlike Cassandra, she seemed to view it more like a story than anything. Daniela seemed slightly more interested, asking questions here and there and even starting to giggle like a middle schooler when they got to the rectum section. That got an eye roll from the other two. Nicole just laughed, finally understanding Mrs Hawkins, her private biology teacher from before she was allowed to step foot in any public school.

After they were done, Bela simply stood up and bid them good night. Danila instead excitedly proposed the skeletal system for next time and picked up the books she abandoned earlier. Then, with a small tower of tomes she went through a door tucked at the very back of the room. Her study, Cassandra had pointed out as they made their way out of the library.

"I didn't know your sisters were interested in medicine too." Nicole kept her voice low, almost as if talking too loudly would disturb the shadowy hallways.

"More or less. Daniela likes it and has a bit of hands-on practice but she has her nose in romance novels more often than not. Bela finds it interesting but botany is what she really loves. That and classic lit." She added the last part with a grimace and Nicole had to wonder which author had offended her personally.

Before she could continue that train of thought though, her gaze moved to the windows, the cloudless sky beyond thick glass panels full of twinkling stars. Her mind kept going back to a few hours earlier and at what Daniela had said. Lover. Did Cassandra truly see her as one or was the youngest sister just being her over the top self. Did she see Cassandra this way? Nicole had not allowed herself to dwell on that up until now, the idea that the brunette saw her as more than an over glorified lab partner with whom she occasionally scratched an itch seemed almost laughable. But the small gestures of affection shown in ways Cassandra seemed to know best were undeniably there. And the familiar flutter in her chest at each of said gestures was also undeniably there.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice, accompanied by the slight echo through the empty hallway, snapped Nicole out of her thoughts.

"Oh um- nothing." She sounded as convincing as someone trying to sell you a fork while showing you a spoon.

And Cassandra didn't seem to buy it. She moved in front of the redhead, walking backwards with no concern over possible furniture to collide into along the way.

"You always get this… face when something's bothering you."

"I do not-" the indignation in her tone was weak, little more than an attempt to change the subject.

"Mhmm you do. You normally look focused. Kind of like, if someone tried to scare you by throwing an eyeball at you, you'd laugh." She would. "Now? Now you look like a rabbit that has no time to run and is just laying low hoping whatever's hunting it passes by."

Nicole shut up for a moment, only looking at the brunette in front of her incredulously. Maybe she was far more attentive than she gave her credit for.

"Uh. Just thinking." At a raised dark eyebrow, the no shit went unsaid, so Nicole tried to elaborate. "About earlier. When we were with your sisters and Daniela uh- Daniela called me your lover."

Saying that the words felt awkward on her tongue was close to the year's biggest understatement. It felt like pulling out teeth would be an easier task. Nicole had never been good with her words, having learned since childhood to keep her mouth shut. But the fact that Cassandra seemed to share her struggle brought some semblance of comfort.

"And?" As if they were talking about the weather.

"And… was she right in describing me as such?"

She couldn't help a small gulp when the brunette stopped walking, looking at her with a frown. Any sane person would be at the very least somewhat afraid in this situation. Sanity however was scarce these days as Nicole was afraid, though not of the bodily harm that may come from her inquiry, but rather of Cassandra's answer.

"Nicole, your tongue has been in my mouth." Amongst many other places.

The redhead's cheeks turned a slight shade of crimson and she mumbled for an answer. She wasn't sure how to tell her that sleeping together did not automatically make them lovers. But then again, Cassandra's thoughts remained a mystery more than anything.

Thankfully the brunette took the metaphorical reins of the conversation and stepped forward. She wrapped her hands around Nicole's arms, gentler than one would imagine possible from her, and bent down to whisper no more than an inch away from her ear.

"I'll have you know, I'm not particularly fond of letting anyone I don't deem important touch me. Especially not the way you do."

The words made something flutter in Nicole's chest, an unfamiliar and comforting warmth. Said warmth got chipped away at the slightest bit when Cassandra pulled back to look her in the eyes.

"Should I take it that it's not mutual then?" Cassandra's tone was nonchalant, almost as if she didn't truly care about the answer. She could keep doing whatever she wanted either way, afterall who was going to stop her? But to someone who got familiar with all her small quirks and habits, the waver in her voice was more than clear.

"No." The world slipped from her lips with no hesitation.

No hesitation, because the more she thought about it, and she didn't need to think a lot mind you, the more Nicole realized that she couldn't remember a time when she felt the way she did here. Sure the initial threat of death looming over her head was anything but pleasant, but once that melted into affection and nights spent in Cassandra's arms the thought of leaving didn't as much as graze her mind.

"No, no. It is," she repeated, more certainty making its way into her tone.

At that Cassandra smiled. A small, almost shy one would say if they knew her well enough, smile. Her shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension when she leaned down again, her lips stopping not even an inch away. Nicole wasted no time leaning forward, their mouths meeting in a kiss that mixed softness and need beautifully. Their lips slid against each other until, surprisingly, it was Cassandra to pull back and sigh.

"Come sleep, we have some cutting up to do in the morning."

Nicole frowned. "Tomorrow? Wasn't that supposed to be due in a few days?"

A devilish grin appeared on black lips, fangs shimmering ominously in the low light. "Bela caught a foolish man-thing sneaking around the forest on the castle grounds. She's really excited to turn this one into a nice steak."

The redhead only let out an oh in acknowledgement. Foolish indeed. At least they could finally put into practice a few autopsy tricks Nicole had been itching to show her.

She let herself be guided back to Cassandra's chambers and into her bed, that she had grown intimately familiar with. The last thing she felt before falling asleep was the brunette's cool skin, pressed against her own. A welcomed comfort among the myriad of soft pillows that surrounded them. Nicole wondered briefly if being undead meant it was hard to keep yourself warm, but the thought quickly slipped away as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #double edged scalpel #fanfic #the dimitrescu daughters

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virunathestarbaby · 3 years ago

Text

"I'll love you till death do us part."

Very quick sketch of the beans💕

smol oneshot ahead with smol makeout scene— HSHHS so be warned. This was very rushed cause I wanted to do something on time for once so yeah. Picture title has nothing to do with oneshot so jakdne..

"You know...I never thought we'd get here someday..." Matsuda said as his fingers trailed the framed photo of their wedding day. The two of them were getting ready for bed after going out for dinner when his eye caught their wedding photo sitting on their nightstand.

Otoha looked at her husband in confusion, a small look of hurt flashed in her eyes as she did. "You didn't think we'd get married?"

"N-no, well, not in the sense you're thinking." He admitted, waving his hands, "I just…I never thought we'd get this far. You know, with the Kira case and all that happened. I just…I thought we wouldn't make it, that we wouldn't even get a chance to be together.." He turned to look at his wife, smiling tenderly, "but here we are.."

"Here we are.." Otoha smiled, going to sit beside him as he pulled her in his arms, giggling. "I still remember when I first met you."

"It was when Ryuzaki first introduced you and Nicole to us, right?"

She nodded, "Yep! You were staring at me for a long time without blinking. I thought you were blind."

"I couldn't help it. You were just so beautiful and you took my breath away." Matsuda replied, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"And then you boldly asked for my number after introductions." Otoha laughed, "And you also said I was really pretty~."

"It's true though, you were very pretty. And then you told me you didn't have a phone." He teasingly shot back and she blushed in response.

"I-I really didn't! Phones before were really boring and I normally use my laptop to communicate with Ryuyu or Watari." She defended herself, earning a chuckle from the man next to her. "Plus, it was sort of dangerous at the time to have phones when you're a detective.."

"I know, Bun, I know." He hugged her tighter, "That's why I was very surprised when you called me right after I left the hotel. You were pretending to be Kira and were like 'I'm watching you.'" He said in a deep voice, doing an impression of her first phone call to him. "You really startled me."

"Hehe~ I couldn't help it, I wanted to talk to you again so I ran to the nearest phone booth and dialed your number." She smiled, rubbing circles on his chest with her index finger, "You couldn't see me, but…I was very excited to talk to you again.."

Matsuda gave her a smile in return, "Me too."

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Remember when you first found out I get sweets drunk?" Otoha beamed as she sat up a little to flop herself on her husband's chest.

"Yeah, I do." He laughed, "I was so excited when you invited me out to that All you can eat desserts buffet. I anticipated a lot of things to happen during that time, but none of them was you getting so drunk on sweets."

"Sorry, I should have warned ya." She grinned as she laid her head on his chest. The sounds of his heartbeat was loud but despite that, she could feel herself getting lost in each beat.

"Do you hear that, Oto?" He asked in a quiet voice, "It beats for you and only you…" He softly said, placing a hand on her head to stroke at her hair, playing with it and curling her chocolate locks between his fingers.

Otoha buried her face in the crook of his neck, hugging him, "Today was wonderful…" she spoke, "I also love how you brought the kids as well..It was nice spending our wedding anniversary with the whole family."

"I'm glad you liked it. I figured it was finally time for them to go with us on our Anniversary dates. Plus, Mello was throwing too many tantrums." Matsuda laughed, making his wife laugh as well.

"It was really cute, what they did for us as well. I was so not expecting a banner, a gift and a little performance from them.." Otoha smiled, remembering the small dance the kids did for them as well as the banner they made.

Matsuda nodded, "They're so chaotic, but I love them so so much."

Otoha tilted her head up, looking at him in the eyes then captured his lips in a sweet kiss. "Thank you for giving me the family I never had, Touta. You're the best husband and father to my kids that I could ever ask for."

"I should be the one thanking you, silly. I always imagined what it would be like to have a family of my own but none of them is as perfect as this.." He then sat up, pulling Otoha up with him and onto his lap before reaching one hand out to cup at her cheek and the other placed firmly behind her back before kissing her. "Thank you…" He kissed her again, "thank you," again, "thank you…" and again. The kiss deepened each time he pulled away before kissing her once again, while his hands couldn't contain themselves and soon roamed her body.

"Someone's getting touchy tonight.." Otoha breathed out as they pulled away from each other to catch their breath. She then leaned forward, her left palm placed flat on his chest while her right trailed a finger up and down his chest, "You know…I bet the kids are asleep now. If we stay quiet then we won't have any problems.." She looked up at him, amber eyes glowing with need as she spoke in a sultry tone, "can you stay quiet, my love?"

"I don't know.." Matsuda kissed her again, "can you?"

But before they could even lock lips again, the door to their room suddenly flew open. Out of panic, Matsuda accidentally pushed his wife off him so fast she almost fell off the bed. Luckily, he caught her on time. "O-O-OTO— I'M SO SORRY ARE YOU OKAY?!"

"I'm alright." She sighed, placing a hand on her chest from the sudden jolt of adrenaline she felt.

"MOM! MEDY WOULD'T SHARE THE GAMEBOY WITH ME!" Mello cried as he ran in the room and into his mother's arms.

"BUT THIS IS MY GAMEBOY! HE BROKE HIS! IT'S NOT MY FAULT HE CAN'T PLAY ANYMORE!" Melody came running in as well, ready to defend herself.

"Can't you share with your twin, Melody?" Matsuda softly asked his daughter who only shook her head in stubbornness.

"NO! I'M PLAYING MINE!"

"What about after?"

Melody fumed at that, "WHY DOES HE GET TO PLAY MINE JUST BECAUSE HE BROKE HIS? IT'S NOT FAIR!" She shouted and ran out of the room, crying.

"C-can't I get a new one?" Mello sniffled, looking up at his mother with baby doll eyes.

"Nice try, Mels, but I'm not falling for that." Otoha laughed, patting her son's head, "We'll get you a new one after you've learned your lesson of banging them on the wall when you lose a game."

"B-but—"

"No, buts. Now, go and get ready for bed." She ushered him out.

Mello's eyes glistened as tears threatened to spill down but he held it in and only nodded, leaving the room as well, closing the door behind him.

"Sooooo…" Matsuda stood up, walking over to the door to lock it, "where were—"

"Daaaaaad!" Came another knock, "Daaaaad! Can I get a midnight snack? I'm hungry!"

Otoha groaned and flopped back onto the bed, hearing Touka call out for them this time.

"You can get some ramen if you're hungry, Touka. Daddy's a bit busy." Matsuda replied, hoping his daughter would finally leave them alone.

"Ooh! Ramen!" Touka beamed.

"You're getting ramen? I want some too!!" They heard Mello's voice shout excitedly too.

"M-me too!" Melody chimed in.

"Okay, four ramen bowls coming up!" Toula cheered, her footsteps slowly disappearing as she ran downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Four?" Otoha quirked a brow.

"Aito must have wanted some too." He shrugged then walked back, crawling up the bed and on top of his wife, "Now….where are we—"

"Dad." Aito's small quiet voice called out, followed by a knock.

Matsuda groaned loudly, flopping on top of Otoha, getting really annoyed with all the interruptions. "Remind me as to why they're all still awake?"

"What's wrong Aito?" Otoha asked in her husband's steed.

"Hi, mom. Big brother Mello and big sis Medy were fighting over the last spicy ramen bowl and they ended up spilling the entire thing on the kitchen floor. Big sister Touka's trying to clean it up but she's failing so bad."

"Oh my god, those kids." She sighed in exasperation. "Wait a second, I'll be down—"

Matsuda grabbed his wife's wrist and shook his head. "No, I'll handle it. You get ready for when I go back, okay?"

Otoha only smiled at him and nodded. "Good girl. I'll be right back."

He came back to see her asleep. "Well…there's other days I supposed."

#death note #matsuda #touta matsuda #matsuda touta #oc x canon #matsuda death note #oc #matsuda x oc #light yagami

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silma-words · 4 years ago

Text

Giving in

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Genre/topic: Romance/Intimacy

Summary: This short piece takes place between Book 1 and 2, in an alternate version of the story where the MC (Ellie) had never offered Adrian (or anyone else) to drink her blood before they actually started to be a thing. I always felt that things happened too quickly in the book, and out of order, so here is my take on it!

Rating: Mature

Warning: Blood

Word count: 2230

Authors Note: It has been a few years since I have written fanfictions, and this is my first time ever writing about Bloodbound, so apologies if my writing is not so good! I am also very new to Tumblr so sorry if I messed up the tags!

Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Giving in

As dawn was setting, Adrian couldn’t ignore the hunger anymore, the thirst in his stomach, as his eyes kept darting between the window and her sleeping form beside him, peaceful, her limbs tangled in the bed sheets with his. After staring one too many times as the veins in her neck, exposed carelessly to the potential predator that he was, Adrian started to shift slowly away from her to make a move out of the bed. He sat on the edge and was about to silently stand up, but was stopped by her hand gently grabbing his wrist, half asleep.

“Is it night already? Do you have to go?”, she mumbled, half asleep, struggling to open her eyelids.

“I…. there are things I need to sort out… in the office”, he simply whispered, placing a gentle hand on her cheek in an attempt to sooth her back to sleep.

Her eyes still closed, Ellie pouted, obviously disappointed to see him go. After a few seconds, she finally opened her eyes, her brow frowning in concern. “Nothing bad happened, I hope?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her concern, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. “No, nothing to be worried about. It’s only… routine stuff that I need to do”.

Her brow relaxed and she slowly raised her chest to rest on her elbows, with a cheeky smirk forming at the corner of her lips. She paused for a moment, and then hauled herself up a little more by grabbing his arm.

“If it’s routine stuff…” she started softly, resting her chin on his arm and looking up to him innocently, “could anyone handle it for once?”.

He couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness to keep him by her side overnight, but quickly looked away as a whiff of her smell made his stomach clutch once more with hunger.

“I’m afraid it’s not the type of business anyone could do for me”, he simply replied, standing up and walking away from her to start dressing up.

Definitely intrigued and clueless about his internal struggle, Ellie sat on the edge of the bed to follow his movements around the room, clutching the bedsheets around her and trying to make eye contact with him.

“Hum… mysterious business… you got me intrigued there” she teased with a cheeky smile.

But when he finally turned back towards her as he was putting his shirt on and her eyes met his, Ellie’s smile fell slightly, the understanding hitting her at the sight of his redden eyes, betraying his thirst.

“Oh…”, she said softly, averting her gaze and blushing a little, as she could now feel the tension in the room.

His feeding habits had not been something they had discussed much, apart from a few inquisitive questions when they had first met, after she had walked in on him and Nicole on her first day as his assistant. While they had now known each other for a few weeks and had spent several nights together, sharing many conversations about their past, Adrian had remained pretty private about his need for blood. All she knew what that he only fed of the willing, or on blood bank supplies if needed. She had never asked much about the logistics, or whether he had fed before they spent time together outside the office. If she had to be honest, she had been avoiding thinking about it most of the time, more particularly because he did not seem to be keen to disclose much about this part of him.

Adrian simply remained quiet, his fingers fumbling to button up his shirt, hid mind torn between his hunger, her smell, and an awkward of mixture of apprehension and embarrassment, knowing this was something they would have had to discuss openly at some point, but unsure how she would feel when facing his true nature up-close. Focused as he was on avoiding her gaze and getting ready to leave, he didn’t realise that she had gotten up until she laid her hand softly on his arm, clutching the bed sheets around her with the other, her eyes locked on his face until he dared looking back at her. Her gaze was hard to decipher, although he could feel from her heartbeat, as intoxicating as it was, that she was a bit afraid. But there was no fear in her eyes. He stared back at her, waiting to hear what she had to say. But she didn’t say anything. She simply slowly pulled him by his arm to lead him towards the window sill, forcing him to sit. But that thirst was getting worse, especially with her being so close.

“I… I really need to go now… I’ll be back quick” he started, making a move to get up, but was stopped immediately by her hand pushing him back against the cushions that were set against the wall, forcing him to sit awkwardly alongside the window, in the spot where she usually sipped quietly her coffee in the morning, staring at whatever was happening outside.

She didn’t say a word, her eyes still locked in his with determination, until she turned around to sit in front of him in the space between his legs, her back to him. She let go of the bed sheets that she had been holding onto all this time, exposing her back, before moving her hair aside to expose her neck. He gulped at the sight of her arteries exposed in the moonlight but made no move towards her, fighting the urge to accept her silent invitation.

“Ellie… you don’t have to… you don’t know what you’re asking…” he started, trying once more to make a run for it and stand up before losing any bit of the self-control he had left. But she wouldn’t let him, pushing her back against his chest until her neck was just right under his nose.

“I trust you”, she simply said, reaching blindly for his arm and wrapping it around her waist.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, drawing a long breath in to attempt clearing his mind to decide what to do, but only making it worse by breathing in more of her scent. When he opened his eyes, they were the bright red eyes of a predator ready to strike, his fangs extended. Moving his left hand to steady her arm, he slowly brough the other one to her face to expose her neck further and prevent her from moving. He could feel her heart race against him and could hear her breath quicken, her smell betraying a mixture of fear and excitement. Unable to hold himself any longer he gently pressed his fangs against the curve of her neck, breaking the skin and sinking into her flesh. He felt her jump slightly, startled by the pain, as he only pulled her closer against him to steady her. When he pulled out she gasped, her heart skipping a beat as he placed his mouth over the wound and started to feed.

Her senses were completely confused, her brain struggling to process the odd mixture of pain, pleasure, fear, trust, apprehension, and excitement. In a weird way, she felt like she had never been so close to him than before this moment, despite all the days and nights they had shared before. She felt that she had never been so close to anyone, at all, before this moment. This feeling of being entirely at his mercy, of completely abandoning herself to a man she trusted so much, was intoxicating. She relaxed her back onto his chest, resigned to let him have anything he wanted from her. As much as he wanted. But after only a few gulps, she felt him stop.

“Is that all? Did you get enough…?” she asked gently, twisting her neck to raise her head towards him. His eyes were still red, but had now turned to a less vibrant gold. He was panting slightly, clearing the edge of his mouth with his thumb to remove any trace of her blood on his lips.

“Yes… It will be enough….” He simply answered, drawing her to him to kiss her softly and hide the lie in his voice. It had taken so much restrain from him to pull away so quickly, but he didn’t want to take the risk to scare her off by losing control completely for the first time she ever volunteered her blood.

Pulling away from his kiss, she quietly stared into his eyes, her gaze inquisitive. She frowned, smirking slightly as she understood.

“No it wasn’t…” she simply said knowingly, kissing him gently before turning her back to him again, reiterating her initial invitation silently. As he was making no immediate move to oblige, she pressed her back harder against his chest, placing one of his hand back on her throat and twisting her neck back to him to taunt him with a searing kiss.

Intoxicated by the passion with which their tongue danced with each other and by the smell of her, he griped her neck a little harder, dragging his mouth from her lips to her chin, then grazing her neck slowly with his fangs. When he started feeding of her once more, he felt freer than he had for a long time, abandoning himself to his thirst and his desire, feeling her shiver in his arms as she gradually let go completely as well. He then felt her start to move ever so slightly against him, moaning lightly, as if melting from his bite in the same way she would usually melt to his touch.

With each swig he took, although he was taking only little at a time, she was losing herself a little deeper in this embrace, forgetting the world around them and whichever rules she had ever been told. Only their tangled bodies mattered. The stiffness of his torso against her back. The warmth of his mouth on her neck. The grip of his hand on her throat. She was completely at his mercy and yet, she wanted to give in even more. She could feel her skin covering in goosebump despite the heat between them, and her stomach clenching deep within, the blood throbbing between her thighs. Her mind fuzzy from all these conflicting sensations and aroused from hearing Adrian groan softly in her hear as he was indulging himself with the most intimate part of her, she blindly reached for his left hand, forcing him to let go of her arm to slowly drag it further down. Along her arm, her chest, until it reached her thighs.

A little startled, Adrian raised his face towards her, blood smearing his lips, his eyes red with lust and longing. When she turned her head back to him and met his gaze, all he could see what a glimpse of that same longing and yearning in her eyes before she reached for his neck with her hand to pull him in a passionate kiss, a silent plead to ask him to give her more. Guided by her hand on his neck and the other further down, he suddenly completely yielded to the palpable tension that had been building between them, crashing his lips onto her artery with less restrain that before, while pressing his other hand between her thighs, making her gasp and arch her back closer to him as he started to pleasure her the way he knew she liked.

Lost in each other’s touch and moans, everything had disappeared around them. The air was electric, hitching their throat every time their tried to catch a breath. He could feel the grip on her hand tighten in his hair as the pleasure was slowly building up inside her, her body trembling against his while his hold on her neck gradually loosened so that he could move his hand slowly back up to her chin, and then cupping the side of her cheek. Knowing she was close, he stopped feeding and slowly dragged his mouth up along her neck, finally bringing her face back to him to kiss her heatedly as her lips parted when she reached her peak.

Still trembling, she felt her body become completely limp as she rested her back against Adrian’s chest, drained both from pleasure and from the blood she had willingly offered to her lover. She barely even noticed when Adrian healed the wound in her neck after drawing blood from his own finger and pressing it gently to her skin. It was only when he covered the spot with light kisses that she drew away from her reverie, turning her head to meet his eyes and see in them the same content and peacefulness than she knew was in hers. The same adoration that made both of their hearts swell and thump faster in their chests.

Although Adrian had had his fair share of erotic feeding episodes in the past, never had it felt this good, this liberating. The way Ellie had offered herself despite her apprehension, to then surrender to him entirely with the most candid trust and abandon herself to his touch was unlike anything else he had experienced. For the first time in decades, he felt that he could share every single aspect of himself with someone, without the need to hold anything back or pretend. For the first time in decades, he felt completely free.

#bloodbound #bloodbound choices #adrian raines #adrian raines x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #choices fanfiction #play choices #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 4 years ago

Text

The Date

Pairing: Benji Dunn x Nicole Blake

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Nic and Benji go on their first date

A/N: Please be nice this is my first fic for Benji

The sidewalk outside of the five star restaurant was bustling with people. Some were on an evening stroll and others were leaving or entering the restaurant itself. It surely wasn’t Benji’s first choice. It was a suggestion from Ethan, to ‘impress’ his date as he put it. Speaking of Ethan…

“She’s five minutes late,” Benji said as he readjusted his tie for the millionth time that night. Speaking out loud, anyone would assume he was nervously talking to himself. However, they’d fail to notice the earpiece he wore. “What if she realized what she’s getting into and had second thoughts?”

“Then that’s her loss,” Ethan replied through the earpiece, checking into the restaurant under his own reservation. “And quit messing with your tie. You’re going to choke yourself.”

“Right.” Benji cleared his throat and forced his hands down. “I still don’t see her, though. I don’t think she’s–”

“Benji!” A voice called from behind him, and before he had a chance to react Nic appeared beside him. She wore a plain short sleeved dark blue dress that stopped at her knees and dark blue flats to match. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she apologized, her face red in the light. “I underestimated how long it would take me to get here. I’ve never been this way before.”

“It’s fine, it’s completely fine,” he told her, pretending he didn’t nearly panic at the notion of being stood up.

“Tell her she looks nice,” Ethan’s voice came through the earpiece.

“You look lovely,” Benji told her, smiling nervously.

“Thank you,” she replied, looking down at the dress. “I wasn’t sure how nice this place was—I probably should’ve looked it up beforehand. But the only dress I own isn’t very fancy, so I kind of bought this brand new for the date. It’s very different from what I normally wear—” Nic stopped herself mid-thought, her face becoming bright red as she let out a nervous laugh. “What I mean to say is: you look very handsome.”

“Thank you.” Benji resisted the urge to mess with his tie. “So, dinner?” He gestured to the doors of the restaurant.

“Dinner,” she nodded in agreement. Nic took his arm when he offered it and followed him into the restaurant.

It was fancier than she imagined—too fancy for her taste. And when they were seated at a table and handed their menus, she barely knew what the food was. She was not into fancy food. The pair sat in silence as they looked over the menu, a potential conversation hanging in the air.

“Small talk. Make small talk,” Ethan coached from his seat in the back of the restaurant.

Benji cleared his throat, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “Um, the steak sounds nice.”

Nic shrugged, fiddling with her bracelet. “I don’t really eat beef. I prefer seafood.”

“Oh.”

“I grew up right by the ocean so…” she mumbled. She cleared her throat. “Have you ever had scallops before?”

“I don’t believe I have,” he admitted.

“I’m gonna order it if you want to try them,” she said as the waiter arrived to take their orders.

After ordering their appetizers and entrees, the two once again sat in silence. It was very obvious neither had been on a date in quite a while.

Ethan sighed in exasperation and took a drink from his wine. “Ask about her interests, her job.”

“What, uh, what do you do for fun?” Benji asked.

“Oh, um,” Nic thought for a moment. She drummed her fingers on the table. “Well obviously I like to bake, otherwise I wouldn’t have opened a bakery.” She said, laughing nervously. “I also like to read; mainly fantasy or fiction. I write too, a bit. But it’s not like I’d ever get published.” Benji was about to reply, insist that wasn’t true and he was sure her work was great. But before he could, she added “I also like video games, a bit.”

This piqued his interest, Benji leaned forward in his chair a little. “What kind of video games?”

“Fighting games, mainly, like Mortal Kombat. That’s sort of my go-to.” She admitted. “I’m guessing you like video games too?”

“Definitely,” he gave her a shy smile. “I’m more of a Halo man myself.”

“I’ve heard of it,” she said. “It’s really popular, but I could never get into those games. What’s it about?”

Nic didn’t realize it at that moment, but she opened a floodgate. And as soon as Benji started to tell her about the games, he branched off into other things. Somehow, probably about the time their appetizers arrived, Benji managed to get from the topic of video games to the very first computer he ever owned. Benji was acutely aware he was rambling, but his nerves had the better of him and he couldn’t stop himself.

“You’re babbling, Benji,” Ethan warned him. “Stop it, Benji.”

“Stop it Benji,” Benji blurred out, cutting off his sentence. His face went bright red as he clamped a hand over his mouth. He was not supposed to say that. To prevent himself from speaking further, he stuffed some of his Caesar salad into his mouth.

Nic gave him a look of confusion and swallowed her bite of a scallop. “Are you okay?”

Benji nodded fervently. “Yes, yep, just fine. I’m just… nervous.”

“It’s okay, I’m nervous too.” She reassured him. “I ramble sometimes when I’m nervous. I didn’t… mind listening to you ramble. It was, um…” Nic looked down at her lap, “…cute.”

“Oh.” Benji swallowed, the red blush creeping down his neck. Nic felt her ears get warm.

“Do you want to try a scallop?” Nic asked, hesitant of the idea. There was a moment of silence that was interrupted by Ethan in Benji’s ear.

“Say yes, or no,” he told his friend exasperatedly.

“Sure,” Benji squeaked out, and he watched as Nic cut off a piece of the scallop and held the fork out to Benji. He leaned forward and took the fork, holding it with Nic. She sucked in a breath when their hands touched and she could hear her heartbeat. He ate the bite of scallop and leaned back, pulling his hand away. Nic put her fork back on the plate and waited for a response from him. Soon, she got one. “That’s good,” he told her. “I should’ve ordered that.”

She let out a giggle and ate what remained of the scallop. “Well now you know if you ever come back here.”

The plates for the appetizers were removed and not long after came their entrees. Nic scooped up some of her shrimp pasta as Benji spoke.

“So… you’re a baker,” he cleared his throat. “That sounds fun.”

“It can be,” she shrugged. “I love baking and coming up with new recipes, but it can be tiring, y’know? I spend all day in the kitchen so sometimes when I get home I don’t want to even step foot in my kitchen and order takeout instead.”

“That’s very understandable,” he told her. “The pot pie was delicious, by the way.”

“Oh thank you,” she replied. “So, what do you do for work?” Benji nearly choked on his steak. Out of everything to happen, he didn’t even think of an answer to give if asked that question. And he certainly couldn’t tell her the truth.

“Well, um…” he tried to think of a quick lie, but when he looked at her he couldn’t help but want to tell the truth. “Work is… complicated.” There—a half truth.

“Complicated, huh?” She gave him a mischievous smile. “Are you like a spy or something?” She joked.

Benji took a big sip of his drink to buy his time and think of an answer.

“Benji,” Ethan warned.

I know, Benji answered mentally. “I, uh, work for the government?” He told her, hoping that was a good enough answer.

“Oh,” Nic nodded. “That makes sense. I have family that works for the government—or did, they don’t anymore.” Benji let out a breath, a sigh of relief. “It sounds stressful.”

“It can be,” he admitted. “Takes me out of the country sometimes, but I normally work with computers.”

Nic hummed. “Makes sense. But I’m sure you do good work.” She put down her fork and stood. “I’ll be right back, gotta head to the restroom,” she mumbled and walked to the bathrooms. She hoped he didn’t notice how much her hands shook. God, she was so nervous.

As soon as she left, Ethan spoke up.

“Jesus, Benji, when was the last time you went on a date?”

“It’s been a while!” He replied quietly but annoyed. “It’s not easy when you’re chirping in my ear!”

“You asked for my help,” Ethan reminded him.

“Yes, help, not coaching me through the date.”

“This is helping. What’s not helping is how nervous you are.”

“You are not helping,” Benji hissed. “You know what, I can do this date without you.”

“Benji–”

Before Ethan could finish, Benji took the earpiece out and snuck it into his pants pocket. From his booth in the back, Ethan sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose.

A few minutes later Nic came back to the table and smiled at Benji. “I hope I wasn’t gone too long.”

“Not at all,” he told her with a smile.

“From your accent I’m guessing you’re from England?”

“I am,” he told her, cutting into his meal.

“What’s it like there? I’ve always wanted to go,” Nic said.

“It’s lovely,” he said. Almost immediately he went into detail about where he grew up and his college days. He mentioned his favorite foods from home, and brought up some local places he remembered going to. Nic brought up foods from her childhood, and told him about places she used to go to all the time in her youth.

“I should make you some one day,” Nic said, referring to her mother’s lasagna recipe that was stashed away somewhere in Nic’s kitchen.

A familiar warmth that Benji hadn’t felt on his face in nearly an hour came back as he blushed at the notion of having a meal at her apartment. “I’d like that,” he replied, smiling bashfully. “On a day I’m not busy with work, of course, and if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Something tells me I’ll have the energy to make dinner that night,” she said, unable to stop the smile on her face or excitement in her voice. “This has been really nice,” she told him. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I was on a date. A proper date.”

“Me either,” he agreed. “But I think this has been great too.”

Dinner finished and they left for the evening. As they left, Benji offered his arm to Nic once again, and she smiled as she took it. He walked her out and smiled at her softly.

“May I walk you to your car?” He asked her.

“You may,” Nic giggled as he walked her there. She silently hoped the walk would last longer, but they reached the old caravan she drove and she let out a soft sigh. “I really did enjoy tonight, Benji. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome. I liked it too, I hope to see you again.”

“When you’re not busy with work, you’re more than welcome to come by my place for that lasagna I told you about,” she said. Nic perched up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Benji.”

He watched her get into the car, and backed up a little as she started to leave. He barely was even able to wave goodbye as she drove off, still caught off guard by the kiss. He brought a hand up and touched where she had kissed cheek before smiling to himself.

“Aww,” Ethan teased as he walked over to Benji. “That’s adorable.”

Benji glared as his face got red. “Shut up.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll see your girlfriend again,” Ethan said, patting him on the back.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Benji corrected.

Ethan started in the direction of his own card and threw a smirk over his shoulder. “Yet.”

Benji paused and thought for a moment before smiling softly. “Yet,” he whispered to himself.

#secret agent husband #otp: you are my home #self insert community #self insert fic #self insert #self ship #self shipping #self ship community #self shipping community #mywriting

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #454

“last thing i remember, i was running for the door / i had to find the passage back to the place i was before”

Last thing you bought online? Did you like it? I have no clue. Could you date someone who didn’t drive (and didn’t show an interest in ever getting their license, either)? I don't know. Public transportation isn't a big thing here at all, and even whenever I get my license, my partner needing to get somewhere while I'm needed elsewhere could be problematic. I think it would also depend on why they don't want their license. Like if they had a traumatic wreck, I couldn't blame them. How would you react if your artwork became famous? That'd be fucking amazing. Would you get your nipples pierced? I've briefly considered it. I ultimately wouldn't, though. How many people know your birthday? Without the assistance of Facebook, a few, I guess. My immediate family, Sara, uhhhh... Has anyone ever tried to ruin a relationship you were in? Yes, and it worked. For the better, though. He had a bad reputation. Have you ever watched a whole hour long infomercial? Ha, yes, this one time with Girt. It was a vacuum infomercial. We were just really bored at my place and... okay, I have no justification for watching that whole thing lmao. What is your current MySpace song? I still remember it was "Pocketful of Sunshine" by Natasha Beddingfield lmaooo. What is your favorite kind of meat to put on your sandwich? Ham. Which one of your exes do you feel like you have the most chemistry with? Sara or Jason, idk. How do you feel about people who make Facebook profiles for their pets? I don't care. Have you ever personally known a pair of conjoined twins? No. What was the most disturbing thing you have ever heard your mother say? Mom and my older sister got in a fight once and Mom yelled that she was a slut. I don't know why, but... it never left me, and I GUARANTEE it never left Ashley (who is not a "slut," by the way). This was when she was a teenager, so it's been many years and I can absolutely promise you Mom regrets it, big time. I don't even have to ask. Is there something in particular you like to look at photos of? What is it? Mark and meerkats, ha ha. Chewy chocolate-chip cookies: like or dislike? Chewy is the way to GO. If your boyfriend/girlfriend wanted to dress only in the opposite sex’s clothing, would you support that? If not, would you leave them? I wouldn't care. I'm pansexual, anyway. Anyone can be attractive to either gender's clothes to me. I think assigning clothes to a specific gender is dumb, anyway. Do you think your grandmother is/was beautiful? I only remember how my maternal grandmother looked, and yeah, she was a pretty lady. Which of your fields of interest are you a total expert on? Mark, ha ha. I know way too much on a person I've never met. When was the last time you got all dolled up? Not since last October when I did a witchy Halloween shoot with friends. Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.) No. Do you have a criminal record? No. Last person you took a nap with? Sara, years ago. Well, unless you count my cat. He always comes running when he hears me getting comfy in bed, ha ha. Does seeing your mother cry automatically make you feel sad as well? Yes, and angry because I want to stop whatever it is making her cry, but I usually can't. Do you think someone likes the same person you like? I have no idea. Do you want your life to stay the way it is right now forever? God no. Have you ever been to craigslist.com? Yes; I've adopted and rehomed pets from there. What about eBay? Mom's bought stuff from there. Have you ever used Nair? Yes, on my legs. It's just as exhausting as shaving with how thick my hair is. Are you medicated? I think I'm on too much medication, personally. I want to try weaning off my OCD prescription, because I haven't had problems in a long time, but my psychiatrist doesn't want to? Which is odd to me because when I came to him, he was stunned by how many different meds I was on. He's concerned that the symptoms will just re-emerge, but like... I've beaten OCD before, for many years. I can do it again. I trust him with my life though, because he saved it, so I just go with what he says, honestly. Do you shape/fill in your eyebrows? No. Have you ever stolen/borrowed clothes from an ex? I've worn Jason's pajama pants before because I found men's pj pants more comfortable, and besides, sometimes I spent the night when I didn't plan to and needed something more comfortable than jeans. Could you make a statement about anything political? Texas' new "heartbeat bill" is fucking bullshit and is going to get so many women killed from DIY abortions. Do you think you’ve already met your soulmate? I don't believe in soulmates, but I do believe I met the person I loved more than I could ever possibly love somebody else again. Do you get the feeling something good will happen in your life soon? Fuck if I know. Do you enjoy romantic movies, even when they’re cliche? Yes. Have you been to McDonald’s in the past month? Yes. Have you ever slept over at your best friend’s house? I have. How often do you go bowling? Very, very rarely. I haven't been since I was on a date at the end of 2017, I wanna say??? Or was it '18??? Last time you were in an apartment? Not since Colleen still lived in one and I was visiting her. Have you ever seen a live seahorse? Yeah, in aquariums. Would you like to have your own yacht? I mean I wouldn't say no if you offered it to me for free, but I'm not exactly interested in one. I'd probably just give it to my dad. He'd be on Cloud 9. Winnie the Pooh or Tigger? Pooh! :^) What’s the unhealthiest thing you’ve eaten today? A brownie with caramel drizzle. Mom bought a box of them to split between Ash and her family and us, so I had one. :x Thankfully though she gave more to Ash, because I don't like having treats in the house for my weight's sake, but a little something sweet occasionally keeps you sane when you're trying to lose weight. Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? Ew, no. What is something you’d be happy to receive as a gift, that doesn’t cost a lot? I'd really appreciate something hand-made, like a drawing or something. What kind of music does your significant other/crush like to listen to? He likes mostly the same stuff as me, but also more indie-ish stuff than me. Who did you have your first kiss with? Do you remember what colour his/her eyes were? Jason. His eyes are brown. Are there any themes from TV shows that you like to sing along to? Supernatural. It's inevitable that I'll sing, ha ha. Do you eat dessert after dinner? Very, very rarely. Have you ever had too much to drink and felt embarrassed about your behavior the next day? No. When you go out drinking, what do you prefer to drink? I don't go out drinking, but if I was to order a drink right now, I'd go for a sangria. That sounds soooo good rn. What was the last animal that you saw? My cat. Venus is in her hide as I'm answering this, so I can't see her. What was the last thing that you said to one of your siblings? I told Nicole bye when she was leaving the other day. What is the most expensive thing that you’ve purchased that you paid for: My snake. What is your favorite messaging program? Discord, nowadays. Do you eat fast food more than 5 times a week? Yikes, no. Have you ever almost drowned? No. Have you ever learned something shocking about someone through Facebook? It wasn't shocking in a bad way, just very unexpected. One of my friends has been an egg donor twice, I wanna say? What’s the scariest living animal that you’ve petted? I have no clue. Nothing that dangerous. Well wait, I shared the story of holding a tarantula before, and I was still kinda nervous to do so when I did. She was a total sweetie, though. Do you remember the first conversation you ever had with the person you currently have feelings for? I actually don't. Other than he got my attention with "lip ring girl," lmao. Do you dread certain days of the week? If yes, what day/s and why? No, because they're all the same to me. If you eat oatmeal, do you have it plain or do you have certain toppings that you like to add to it? I add a bit of sugar. What is the funniest or strangest thing you’ve ever heard somebody say in their sleep? *shrug* Choose one - Butterfinger, Milky Way, Snickers: Milky Way, 100%. Do you use Mozilla Firefox? No, I use Chrome. Who is your favorite person to hug? Sara. Have you ever had to have a mug shot? No. What was the last thing you carried to your room? Water. When was the last time you had a late night phone call? Damn dude, I couldn't possibly tell ya.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''hotel california'' by the eagles

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ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut · 4 years ago

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Requiem 4

Hey everyone! I hope everyone is enjoying this story! Sorry it took me a little longer. I’ve been falling asleep more frequently. I wish I didn’t feel so tired all the time… the doctors think I have narcolepsy but I won’t be able to get tested until everything is open.

Disclaimer: I don’t own My Next Life as a Villainess.

----------

Gerald Stuart prided himself on being able to read his fiancée, Katarina Claes, very well. He had known her since she was eight, had known her the longest out of all her friends, and was engaged to her. He knew her likes and dislikes, what made her upset, what made her smile—Gerald was sure he could write a book simply on Katarina’s ‘katarisms’ within a day and have it published within the week.

So when Gerald had visited the Claes manor to see his fiancée, he immediately knew something was off when he saw her.

“Sister! Please put on something more proper!” Keith cried as Katarina raced up to greet Gerald in a strange outfit with… a surprisingly short length skirt. He felt his cheeks flush at the sight of her shapely legs.

“It’s fine, Keith! Mother says I can wear this around the mansion! What do you think, Prince Gerald? I think it’s great!” Katarina was expressive as usual, and if he wasn’t versed in how she was, he would’ve fell for it, but Gerald zeroed in on Katarina’s face. Her smile was there, but her eyes—they had a melancholy look in them. It was like she was about to cry, whether in joy or sadness, Gerald didn’t know, but the distant gleam in her eyes, as if she was here, but not, made Gerald pause.

Something was wrong, and this made Gerald very alarmed.

“Katarina…” Gerald murmured, concerned. He raised a hand to her cheek, and Katarina blinked, confused. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, a small second, Katarina appeared as if she was about to cry. She bit her lip, as if she was holding something inside, but soon she was smiling again, and the moment was gone.

“Of course I’m okay, Prince Gerald! You’re starting to sound like Keith—he’s been fretting over me too!” Katarina laughed. Keith and Gerald watched her, waiting for her to crack, for her to come clean about what was on her mind.

But it never came.

And that worried them more.

“Just because Mother gave you permission to wear those strange clothes doesn’t mean you should be wearing them everywhere, Sister.” Keith sighed. Katarina patted his arm.

“It’s fine, Keith! Maybe when I go to the Ministry of Magic with Mother, she’ll let me get more fabric for more clothes!” Katarina was excited, sparkles in her eyes at the thought of wearing more clothes like she wore in her past life.

“You’re going to the Ministry of Magic?” Gerald inquired, raising a brow. Katarina nodded.

“Yeah! Mother says she wants to take me! I don’t know why though! Maybe a job opportunity?” Katarina wondered.

“There’s no need for that, Katarina. After graduation we’d be getting married, remember?” Gerald pointed out, gently smiling.

“Oh! You’re right! Then I don’t know…” Katarina trailed off.

“You know, Sister would be much more suited for working than being Queen anyway.” Keith’s eyebrow twitched.

“Oh really? Actually as Queen she’ll be quite busy.” Gerald’s smile twitched. Katarina watched them both with a smile.

‘They get along so well! Maybe I should arrange for them to hang out more!’ Katarina grew excited at the prospect.

“Katarina?” Gerald’s voice called her out of her musing.

“Uh yes, Prince Gerald?” Katarina jolted. Gerald grasped one of her hands with his affectionately.

“I would like to join you on this outing, if that’s alright with you.” Gerald had a distinct suspicion this meeting with the Ministry was important—his gut telling him he should go to be there in case she needed protection.

“I-I’ll go too, Sister! This way Mother and you will have more support with whatever you’re doing!” Keith was quick to chime in. He eyed the third prince with a glare, but Gerald wasn’t phased. Katarina was what mattered the most.

“Oh! That’s a good idea, Keith!” Katarina praised him. She clapped her hands together. “What if we invite everyone? Maria said she was thinking of applying to the Ministry of Magic, and I’m sure Nicol would love to see all the ancient archives!”

“Whatever you want.” Gerald and Keith told her, just happy she was normal again. They listened as Katarina babbled excitedly about getting everyone together.

“Oh! I should go tell Mother we’ll have everyone coming with us! Excuse me!” Katarina bid them farewell and hurried into the Claes manor. Gerald and Keith watched her go with smiles. However, when she was out of sight, they sobered immediately.

“Something’s wrong.” Gerald said.

“I tried getting her to tell me, but she just said she was fine and waved me off.” Keith told him. “But that look in her eyes…”

“It looks like she’s about to fall apart at the seams.” Gerald finished for him. He turned to Keith, serious. “Did your mother say why they were going to the Ministry?”

“No. She just told Sister to be ready soon, but Mother appeared to be very conflicted, like a lot was on her mind.” Keith answered. Gerald’s expression turned pensive.

“Has she ever been like this before? Katarina I mean.” Gerald asked Keith. Keith furrowed his eyebrows, thinking.

“My sister’s always been a little strange… sometimes I’d catch her muttering in a strange language when she’s talking to herself. I’ve caught her writing in a notebook in also a strange language, but when I asked to see it, she freaked out and kept switching between language—like she was so flustered and scared her brain couldn’t focus. I never wanted to terrify her like that again, so I never asked about the notebook, but I know she hides it somewhere in her room. I just thought it was a diary…” Keith recalled a young Katarina rambling frantically, trying to get him to forget about the book. Keith appeared more troubled the more he remembered. “When I was getting adopted by Father, he mentioned something about Sister having night terrors like I did so he thought we’d bond. I tried asking her about those, but she just said they were gone now that I was there, so I didn’t need to worry. I thought I was special then—I made Sister’s night terrors go away, but I can’t help but wonder… sometimes I find she has dark circles under her eyes, like she’s been having bad dreams, and I wonder if that’s really true they’re gone.”

“Sometimes she’d say things—strange things like she needed to learn how to survive in case she ever gets exiled one day.” Gerald added his own two cents. “I’d ask her what she had meant, and she would startle, realizing who she was talking to, and immediately say it was nothing. I don’t think she’d ever meant to say that to me…” Gerald explained. “I thought it was just her being silly because how could Katarina ever think she was going to be exiled? She had to know I cared about her, that I would never let that happen. I’d sooner kill myself than causing her the pain of banishing her.”

“I’d kill you first.” Keith frowned. Gerald gave him a look before sighing.

“I wonder… does this have anything to do with her trying to break off our engagement all the time?” Gerald mused to himself. Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Sister tried breaking her engagement off?” Keith was confused.

“Unfortunately. She would say things like when I found someone else to love, she wouldn’t stand in the way. I just thought it was because she didn’t know how I felt about her, but I can’t shake the feeling there’s something bigger going on here. Something she’s not telling me…”

Keith observed his rival, and saw he was truly distressed by something bothering Katarina to the point it was affecting her mental state—just as distressed as him.

Before he could say anything, however, the object of their discussion was running towards them.

“Keith! Prince Gerald! Good news! Mother said we can invite everyone! Let’s let them know right away!” Katarina called.

“Of course, Katarina.” Gerald smiled.

“It will be fun, Sister.” Keith smiled as well. Katarina paused, watching them.

“Are… are you two okay?” Katarina asked. She placed her hands on both their foreheads. Keith and Gerald both felt their heartbeats speed up at her touch. “You don’t feel warm.” She noted.

Gerald gave a little laugh, grasping her hand as she was pulling them away from their foreheads. Keith watched in envy that he could touch Katarina so freely.

“You know me, I can be a bit protective.” Gerald told her, smiling tenderly. Katarina smiled in return.

“Don’t worry, Prince Gerald! I’ll protect you from any wayward snakes!” Katarina promised, probably not realizing what Gerald meant, but Gerald was fine with this, used to it, and laughed softly.

“I’ll hold you to it.” He grinned.

“Sister, let’s prepare the letters to invite everyone.” Keith interrupted them, eyeing Gerald sternly. He gave Katarina a gentle smile. “They’ll all be excited to hear from you.”

“You’re right, Keith! We have to hurry! We’ll be going to the Ministry soon after all!” Katarina replied.

“Yes… soon” Keith echoed.

He was sure they would have more answers after that.

He hoped more than anything.

--------------------------------

There’s chapter 4! Sorry the chapters are so short! My sleep disorder makes it harder to write longer chapters, so I try to compensate with shorter chapters and quicker updates if my health allows it.

#katarina claes #catarina claes #gerald stuart #keith claes #katarina x everyone #katarina x gerald #gerald x katarina #keith x katarina #katarina x keith #my next life as a villainess #hamefura #shit's gonna hit the fan

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miumoou · 4 years ago

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Dreams Really Do Come True ~ Chapter 6

Dazai X Reader 💞

[Y/N] POV

"Your smile compliments a beautiful lady like you"

I knew that he would say such a thing to any women but it made feel relieved knowing it was the man who I thought I'll never meet "You really are him aren't you" I lightly laughed as he gently let go of me and helped me up. It really did feel like a dream as we stood in the frosty cold air. The clouds began to fade away revealing the bright ball of fire which slowly disappeared behind the chained fencing which separated us from the calm evening ocean waves. Looking over I spotted the sign "Danger no jumping" and once again I breathed a sigh of relief as I looked back at Dazai with a joyous look.

"Oh and here this is for you!" I handed over the plain white bandages to him.

"Thank you" He paused as he slid the bandages away into his large pocket as this coat was a little too oversized on his slim body.

"I really needed those bandages...ever since I got here I've had to wear this super warm coat and at times it's been driving me crazy but now because of this beautiful young lady I can finally take it off." Looking over at you he noticed that there was no element of surprise in your expression. "Hmmm I'm guessing that you already know why I've been wearing this coat." His hand wrapped around his soft silk hair as he spoke out those words.

Looking at him now he really did look otherworldly. He almost looked like a mystical statue. Maybe he was Medusa's lover.

"Oh by the way there has been something that I've been meaning to ask but what is your name beautiful? The curiosity is actually killing me!" His tone of voice changed into the goofier Dazai I knew from the detective agency. "I simply must know the name of the women who is simply perfect for a double suicide with me~"

I laughed as he spoke. "You don't have to flirt with me Dazai I know you do that with everyone but I do love this goofball version of you!"

Dazai looked at me with a surprised look "Oh so you know about how I flirt too? Haha well then what's your name?"

"Yes I do and my name is [Y/N] [Y/S]" I grinned as the heavenly artist behind me painted the sky in a gradient made up of pink, orange and blue as the sun collided with the peaceful sheet of water.

"[Y/N]? That's such a fitting name for you!~"

"Well [Y/N] chan~ would you like to..." he grabbed the Pier railing from both of my sides blocking off any possible exists keeping me at the centre. I could almost hear his steady heartbeat as he kept his cool despite being so close to a woman. He is a womanizer of course it's easy for him but it's not for me. He looked down at me with an intense serious expression.

"Tell me how do you know me [Y/N]? How much do you know?" I tried to move a little away from his face as I panicked. I always panic when I get confronted. "I...I..." Dazai noticed how I was trying to move away so he bought himself even closer. So close that I could see his handsome face in high definition. His hands gripped the railings tighter.

"[Y/N] answer me please." His eyes were determined to get answers from me. It almost felt like one of those interrogations he held back during the days of the dark era.

Nicole POV

"Feeeew she didn't figure out why I was truly here! Hahaha I tricked her" I spoke out proudly with a smirk on my face.

"That was a close one! I can't let her know that I am secretly a Bungo Stray Dogs fan or should I say that I am here to see a certain someone which is even worse"

My eyebrows lifted high into the heavens wiggling. I grinned to myself as I stood at the centre of the milk isle. "Wait why am I in the milk isle? Or should I say the mulk isle haha wow why am I laughing to myself."

"I really am a dumbass at times" as I spoke those words I started to return back to my more timid personality as I started to feel several pairs of eyes gazing at me. Are they judging me? Probably but that's just me isn't it. I tilt my head down to look at my phone to change the song into 'Together Forever by Rick Atsley'. I love listening to him he genuinely makes me feel good. I know I sound basic saying that but hearing him say that 'I will always do what's best for you' makes me all warm inside.

With a slow pace I headed for Rose De Jaune's famous pasta isle with my bright green shopping trolley. Why? Cause my favourite noodles were located there! I reached out to grab the brand which I would normally get with my mum. Honestly I am amazed that I managed to find this isle by myself. I normally follow my mum. Turning around I saw a man with messy black hair and emerald green eyes staring straight into my soul. "Oh my life he is so sexy!"

"..."

Did I just say that out loud?

I said that out loud???

What kind of dumbass am I??

I quickly looked back at my noodles nervously. My eyebrows wiggled without permission. I'm so embarrassing! *I slapped my eyebrows*

The sexy man watched me and couldn't help but laugh hysterically "Why are you slapping your eyebrows? You see I got lost while I was looking for my suicidal maniac friend and here I find you. You. Miss crackhead slapping her own eyebrows? Don't get me wrong." He moves in closer with an energetic smile staring right into my nervous wrecked face. "You are real pretty but you also seem a little funny...but what's even more important is that your grabbing the most finest noodles in town and I love those" he starts to hum a song as he thinks of those delicious noodles.

I began to feel more at ease as he mentioned those words "Yo-...You love noodles as much as me?" I asked shyly as I was speaking to such a perfect man. Sexy and he loves food? He is my ideal type. Looking back at him again I noticed him wearing a basic vanilla white t-shirt. Okay he is basic like me? Love that.

"Now then beautiful Miss" as he spoke he unwrapped the Cadbury chocolate which he was holding since the beginning of this encounter. He must have picked up those on the way to the pasta isle. Then he began to chomp into the bar of sweetness. I gasped. What is he doing? Why is he biting chocolate which he hadn't bought? I was too nervous to ask so all I could do was stand there with an expression full of shock.

"Have you seen my friend Osamu Dazai? He is a tall slender man with brown slightly wavey hair. He has also them typical bangs which frame the face and gather a little at the centre."

Wait.

What did I just hear?

Dazai?

Then could it be?

Could this be who I was looking for?

"Ranpo?" I accidently shouted out.

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richincolor · 4 years ago

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January's New Releases

2021 told 2020 to hold it's beer and what a month January has been! Publishing YA also came out swinging with a slew of new books (many already bestsellers) in what we hope will be another banner year for BIPOC stories. Click below to find books for your TBR list.

Week of January 5th

The Life I’m In by Sharon G. Flake Scholastic Inc

My feet are heavy as stones when I walk up the block wondering why I can’t find my old self.

In The Skin I’m In, readers saw into the life of Maleeka Madison, a teen who suffered from the ridicule she received because of her dark skin color. For decades fans have wanted to know the fate of the bully who made Maleeka’s life miserable, Char.

Now in Sharon Flake’s latest and unflinching novel, The Life I’m In, we follow Charlese Jones, who, with her raw, blistering voice speaks the truths many girls face, offering insight to some of the causes and conditions that make a bully. Turned out of the only home she has known, Char boards a bus to nowhere where she is lured into the dangerous web of human trafficking. Much is revealed behind the complex system of men who take advantage of vulnerable teens in the underbelly of society. While Char might be frightened, she remains strong and determined to bring herself and her fellow victims out of the dark and back into the light, reminding us why compassion is a powerful cure to the ills of the world.

Sharon Flake’s bestselling, Coretta Scott King Award-winning novel The Skin I’m In was a game changer when it was first published more than twenty years ago. It redefined young adult literature by presenting characters, voices, and real-world experiences that had not been fully seen. Now Flake offers readers another timely and radical story of a girl on the brink and how her choices will lead her to either fall, or fly. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Happily Ever Afters by Elise Bryant Balzer + Bray

Sixteen-year-old Tessa Johnson has never felt like the protagonist in her own life. She’s rarely seen herself reflected in the pages of the romance novels she loves. The only place she’s a true leading lady is in her own writing—in the swoony love stories she shares only with Caroline, her best friend and #1 devoted reader.

When Tessa is accepted into the creative writing program of a prestigious art school, she’s excited to finally let her stories shine. But when she goes to her first workshop, the words are just…gone. Fortunately, Caroline has a solution: Tessa just needs to find some inspiration in a real-life love story of her own. And she’s ready with a list of romance novel-inspired steps to a happily ever after. Nico, the brooding artist who looks like he walked out of one of Tessa’s stories, is cast as the perfect Prince Charming.

But as Tessa checks each item off Caroline’s list, she gets further and further away from herself. She risks losing everything she cares about—including the surprising bond she develops with sweet Sam, who lives across the street. She’s well on her way to having her own real-life love story, but is it the one she wants, after all?

One of the Good Ones by Maika Moulite and Maritza Moulite Inkyard Press

ISN’T BEING HUMAN ENOUGH? When teen social activist and history buff Kezi Smith is killed under mysterious circumstances after attending a social justice rally, her devastated sister Happi and their family are left reeling in the aftermath. As Kezi becomes another immortalized victim in the fight against police brutality, Happi begins to question the idealized way her sister is remembered. Perfect. Angelic.

One of the good ones.

Even as the phrase rings wrong in her mind–why are only certain people deemed worthy to be missed?–Happi and her sister Genny embark on a journey to honor Kezi in their own way, using an heirloom copy of The Negro Motorist Green Book as their guide. But there’s a twist to Kezi’s story that no one could’ve ever expected–one that will change everything all over again.

Roman and Jewel by Dana L. Davis Inkyard Press

If Romeo and Juliet got the Hamilton treatment…who would play the leads? This vividly funny, honest, and charming romantic novel by Dana L. Davis is the story of a girl who thinks she has what it takes…and the world thinks so, too.

Jerzie Jhames will do anything to land the lead role in Broadway’s hottest new show, Roman and Jewel, a Romeo and Juliet inspired hip-hopera featuring a diverse cast and modern twists on the play. But her hopes are crushed when she learns mega-star Cinny won the lead…and Jerzie is her understudy.

Falling for male lead Zeppelin Reid is a terrible idea–especially once Jerzie learns Cinny wants him for herself. Star-crossed love always ends badly. But when a video of Jerzie and Zepp practicing goes viral and the entire world weighs in on who should play Jewel, Jerzie learns that while the price of fame is high, friendship, family, and love are priceless.

The Awakening of Malcom X by Ilyasah Shabazz & Tiffany D. Jackson Farrar, Straus and Giroux (Byr)

In Charlestown Prison, Malcolm Little struggles with the weight of his past. Plagued by nightmares, Malcolm drifts through days unsure of his future. Slowly, he befriends other prisoners and writes to his family. He reads all the books in the prison library, joins the debate team and the Nation of Islam. Malcolm grapples with race, politics, religion, and justice in the 1940s. And as his time in jail comes to an end, he begins to awaken — emerging from prison more than just Malcolm Little: Now, he is Malcolm X.

Here is an intimate look at Malcolm X’s young adult years. While this book chronologically follows X: A Novel, it can be read as a stand-alone historical novel that invites larger discussions on black power, prison reform, and civil rights.

When You Look Like Us by Pamela N. Harris HarperCollins

When you look like us—brown skin, brown eyes, black braids or fades—people think you’re trouble. No one looks twice at a missing black girl from the projects because she must’ve brought whatever happened to her upon herself. I, Jay Murphy, can admit that, for a minute, I thought my sister, Nicole, got too caught up with her boyfriend—a drug dealer—and his friends.

But she’s been gone too long now.

If I hadn’t hung up on her that night, she’d be spending time with our grandma. If I was a better brother, she’d be finishing senior year instead of being another name on a missing persons list. It’s time to step up and do what the Newport News police department won’t.

Week of January 12th

Chlorine Sky by Mahogany L. Browne Crown Books for Young Readers

She looks me hard in my eyes & my knees lock into tree trunks My eyes don’t dance like my heartbeat racing They stare straight back hot daggers. I remember things will never be the same. I remember things.

With gritty and heartbreaking honesty, Mahogany L. Browne delivers a novel-in-verse about broken promises, fast rumors, and when growing up means growing apart from your best friend.

The Meet-Cute Project by Rhiannon Richardson Simon & Schuster

Mia’s friends love rom-coms. Mia hates them. They’re silly, contrived, and not at all realistic. Besides, there are more important things to worry about—like how to handle living with her bridezilla sister, Sam, who’s never appreciated Mia, and surviving junior year juggling every school club offered and acing all of her classes.

So when Mia is tasked with finding a date to her sister’s wedding, her options are practically nonexistent.

Mia’s friends, however, have an idea. It’s a little crazy, a little out there, and a lot inspired by the movies they love that Mia begrudgingly watches too.

Mia just needs a meet-cute.

Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0) by Angie Thomas Balzer + Bray

If there’s one thing seventeen-year-old Maverick Carter knows, it’s that a real man takes care of his family. As the son of a former gang legend, Mav does that the only way he knows how: dealing for the King Lords. With this money he can help his mom, who works two jobs while his dad’s in prison.

Life’s not perfect, but with a fly girlfriend and a cousin who always has his back, Mav’s got everything under control.

Until, that is, Maverick finds out he’s a father.

Suddenly he has a baby, Seven, who depends on him for everything. But it’s not so easy to sling dope, finish school, and raise a child. So when he’s offered the chance to go straight, he takes it. In a world where he’s expected to amount to nothing, maybe Mav can prove he’s different.

When King Lord blood runs through your veins, though, you can’t just walk away. Loyalty, revenge, and responsibility threaten to tear Mav apart, especially after the brutal murder of a loved one. He’ll have to figure out for himself what it really means to be a man.

Angel of Greenwood by Randi Pink Feiwel and Friends

Seventeen-year-old Isaiah Wilson is, on the surface, a town troublemaker, but is hiding that he is an avid reader and secret poet, never leaving home without his journal. A passionate follower of WEB. Du Bois, he believes that black people should rise up to claim their place as equals.

Sixteen-year-old Angel Hill is a loner, mostly disregarded by her peers as a goody-goody. Her father is dying, and her family’s financial situation is in turmoil. Also, as a loyal follower of Booker T. Washington, she believes, through education and tolerance, that black people should rise slowly and without forced conflict.

Though they’ve attended the same schools, Isaiah never noticed Angel as anything but a dorky, Bible toting church girl. Then their English teacher offers them a job on her mobile library, a three-wheel, two-seater bike. Angel can’t turn down the money and Isaiah is soon eager to be in such close quarters with Angel every afternoon.

But life changes on May 31, 1921 when a vicious white mob storms the community of Greenwood, leaving the town destroyed and thousands of residents displaced. Only then, Isaiah, Angel, and their peers realize who their real enemies are.

Week of January 19th

Thirty Talks Weird Love by Alessandra Narváez Varela Cinco Puntos Press

Out of nowhere, a lady comes up to Anamaría and says she’s her, from the future. But Anamaría’s thirteen, she knows better than to talk to some weirdo stranger. Girls need to be careful, especially in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico—it’s the 90’s and fear is overtaking her beloved city as cases of kidnapped girls and women become alarmingly common. This thirty-year-old “future” lady doesn’t seem to be dangerous but she won’t stop bothering her, switching between cheesy Hallmark advice about being kind to yourself, and some mysterious talk about saving a girl.

Anamaría definitely doesn’t need any saving, she’s doing just fine. She works hard at her strict, grade-obsessed middle school—so hard that she hardly gets any sleep; so hard that the stress makes her snap not just at mean girls but even her own (few) friends; so hard that when she does sleep she dreams about dying—but she just wants to do the best she can so she can grow up to be successful. Maybe Thirty’s right, maybe she’s not supposed to be so exhausted with her life, but how can she ask for help when her city is mourning the much bigger tragedy of its stolen girls?

This thought-provoking, moving verse novel will lead adult and young adult readers alike to vital discussions on important topics—like dealing with depression and how to recognize this in yourself and others—through the accessible voice of a thirteen-year-old girl.

Your Corner Dark by Desmond Hall Atheneum/Dlouhy

Things can change in a second:

The second Frankie Green gets that scholarship letter, he has his ticket out of Jamaica.

The second his longtime crush, Leah, asks him on a date, he’s in trouble.

The second his father gets shot, suddenly nothing else matters.

And the second Frankie joins his uncle’s gang in exchange for paying for his father’s medical bills, there’s no going back…or is there?

As Frankie does things he never thought he’d be capable of, he’s forced to confront the truth of the family and future he was born into—and the ones he wants to build for himself.

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo Dutton Books for Young Readers

“That book. It was about two women, and they fell in love with each other.” And then Lily asked the question that had taken root in her, that was even now unfurling its leaves and demanding to be shown the sun: “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Seventeen-year-old Lily Hu can’t remember exactly when the question took root, but the answer was in full bloom the moment she and Kathleen Miller walked under the flashing neon sign of a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club.

America in 1954 is not a safe place for two girls to fall in love, especially not in Chinatown. Red-Scare paranoia threatens everyone, including Chinese Americans like Lily. With deportation looming over her father—despite his hard-won citizenship—Lily and Kath risk everything to let their love see the light of day.

If I Tell You the Truth by Jasmin Kaur HarperCollins

Told in prose, poetry, and illustration, this heartrending story weaves Kiran’s and Sahaara’s timelines together, showing a teenage Kiran and, later, her high school–aged daughter, Sahaara.

Kiran is a young Punjabi Sikh woman who becomes pregnant after being sexually assaulted by her fiancé’s brother. When her fiancé and family don’t believe her, she flees her home in India to Canada, where she plans to raise the child as a single mother. For Kiran, living undocumented means constant anxiety over finances, work, safety, and whether she’ll be deported back to the dangers that await her in Punjab.

Eighteen years later, Kiran’s daughter, Sahaara, is desperate to help her mother, who has been arrested and is facing deportation. In the aftermath, Kiran reveals the truth about Sahaara’s conception. Horrified, Sahaara encourages Kiran to speak out against the man who raped her—who’s now a popular political figure in Punjab. Sahaara must find the best way to support her mother while also dealing with the revelation about her parents.

We Free the Stars (Sands of Arawiya #2) by Hafsah Faizal Farrar, Straus and Giroux

The battle on Sharr is over. The dark forest has fallen. Altair may be captive, but Zafira, Nasir, and Kifah are bound for Sultan’s Keep, determined to finish the plan he set in motion: restoring the hearts of the Sisters of Old to the minarets of each caliphate, and finally returning magic to all of Arawiya. But they are low on resources and allies alike, and the kingdom teems with fear of the Lion of the Night’s return.

As the zumra plots to overthrow the kingdom’s darkest threat, Nasir fights to command the magic in his blood. He must learn to hone his power into a weapon, to wield not only against the Lion but against his father, trapped under the Lion’s control. Zafira battles a very different darkness festering in her through her bond with the Jawarat—a darkness that hums with voices, pushing her to the brink of her sanity and to the edge of a chaos she dare not unleash. In spite of the darkness enclosing ever faster, Nasir and Zafira find themselves falling into a love they can’t stand to lose…but time is running out to achieve their ends, and if order is to be restored, drastic sacrifices will have to be made.

Lush and striking, hopeful and devastating, We Free the Stars is the masterful conclusion to the Sands of Arawiya duology by New York Times–bestselling author Hafsah Faizal.

Week of January 26th

Written in Starlight (Woven in Moonlight #2) by Isabel Ibañez Page Street Kids

If the jungle wants you, it will have you…

Catalina Quiroga is a Condesa without a country. She’s lost the Inkasisa throne, the loyalty of her people, and her best friend. Banished to the perilous Yanu Jungle, Catalina knows her chances of survival are slim, but that won’t stop her from trying to escape. It’s her duty to reclaim the throne.

When Manuel, the son of her former general, rescues Catalina from a jaguar, a plan forms. Deep in the jungle, the city of gold is hidden, home to the fierce Illari people, who she could strike an alliance with.

But the elusive Illari are fighting a battle of their own—a mysterious blight is corrupting the jungle, laying waste to everything they hold dear. As a seer, Catalina should be able to help, but her ability to read the future in the stars is as feeble as her survival instincts. While searching for the Illari, Catalina must reckon with her duty and her heart to find her true calling, which could be the key to stopping the corruption before it destroys the jungle completely.

The Knockout by Sajni Patel Flux

If seventeen-year-old Kareena Thakkar is going to alienate herself from the entire Indian community, she might as well do it gloriously. She’s landed the chance of a lifetime, an invitation to the US Muay Thai Open, which could lead to a spot on the first-ever Olympic team. If only her sport wasn’t seen as something too rough for girls, something she’s afraid to share with anyone outside of her family. Despite pleasing her parents, exceling at school, and making plans to get her family out of debt, Kareena’s never felt quite Indian enough, and her training is only making it worse.

Which is inconvenient, since she’s starting to fall for Amit Patel, who just might be the world’s most perfect Indian. Admitting her feelings for Amit will cost Kareena more than just her pride–she’ll have to face his parents’ disapproval, battle her own insecurities, and remain focused for the big fight. Kareena’s bid for the Olympics could very well make history–if she has the courage to go for it.

Wings of Ebony (Wings of Ebony #1) by J. Elle Denene Millner Books/Simon Schuster Books for Young Readers

“Make a way out of no way” is just the way of life for Rue. But when her mother is shot dead on her doorstep, life for her and her younger sister changes forever. Rue’s taken from her neighborhood by the father she never knew, forced to leave her little sister behind, and whisked away to Ghizon—a hidden island of magic wielders.

Rue is the only half-god, half-human there, where leaders protect their magical powers at all costs and thrive on human suffering. Miserable and desperate to see her sister on the anniversary of their mother’s death, Rue breaks Ghizon’s sacred Do Not Leave Law and returns to Houston, only to discover that Black kids are being forced into crime and violence. And her sister, Tasha, is in danger of falling sway to the very forces that claimed their mother’s life.

Worse still, evidence mounts that the evil plaguing East Row is the same one that lurks in Ghizon—an evil that will stop at nothing until it has stolen everything from her and everyone she loves. Rue must embrace her true identity and wield the full magnitude of her ancestors’ power to save her neighborhood before the gods burn it to the ground.

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks #ownvoices

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

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To bargain for immortality pt.5

Another few good weeks passed before they heard from their so-called goddess, gone who knows where. Not that anyone would ever question her absences, even the lords knew better than to stick their noses in her business.

When Nicole found herself once again following Emma through blue-lit underground corridors, there was an odd determination in her strides. She wanted to figure out what the hell was going on with her and Miranda, if nothing else, was a scientist who above all loved solving an equation. And what else could her situation be described as if not an intricate equation with a bit fat X as her missing factor.

She was right in thinking that Miranda would find her issue of interest, as when she finally brought it up the woman furrowed her brows and turned to face her, a clipboard grabbed from a nearby table.

“And there was nobody else?”

“No. Just me, Cassandra, the pharmacist and some guy that came for his medicine,” Nicole answered with a barely contained huff.

“What for?” Miranda tapped her pen against the paper in anticipation, a clear sign that she may be onto something and was only putting together some puzzle pieces that nobody but her could see.

Nicole had to dig through her memories for a moment. “An infection. At least that’s what the pharmacist mentioned.”

Miranda hummed and scribbled something else. There was no point in trying to decipher what exactly, the woman had the handwriting of two drunk doctors put together. How very fitting for her.

Without another word, she was on her feet, unbuttoned lab coat flowing after her the same way her black robes did when in goddess mode. “Follow me. I want to test something.”

And what else was she supposed to do really?

Quick steps took them down the hallways, black stone walls surrounding them and taking on an odd shine under the unnatural neon lights above. At least Nicole didn’t have to jog for once, Miranda not being that much taller than her.

The journey was short and they reached their destination quickly, which seemed to be a door not unlike the one belonging to the lab they had just vacated, except this one had the number 24 engraved on a small plaque on it. Miranda pushed it open to reveal a small hospital looking room, four beds divided by grey curtains but only one seemed to be occupied, a sleeping woman hooked to a heart monitor whose rhythmic beeping caused some memories to resurface in Nicole's mind.

Those memories however were quickly pushed down by a sudden burst of nausea at the decaying smell that seemed to forcefully crawl its way down her throat. Nicole all but slapped a hand to her face and turned around in a pathetic attempt to block out the overwhelming sensation. Some blood also started to trickle down her face and past trembling fingers, although thankfully not an ungodly amount like before.

By some mercy of well… herself, Miranda didn't stop her when she decided to do a wobbly turn and hastily exit the room. She followed Nicole out and observed as she slumped against a wall, pulling a tissue from a pocket to wipe at her face.

"What… the fuck," Nicole breathed out.

"Was that the same as before?" Miranda's eyes were full of a weird kind of glee that could only belong to a mad scientist. Not that that would be an inaccurate description for the woman.

Nicole only nodded, trying to get her face on a more presentable level before speaking again. "Is she-..."

Miranda scoffed. "Are you deaf? I can assure you the woman is quite alive," she responded with an eye roll.

The soft beeping monitoring the heartbeat could be heard faintly from behind the closed door, so her words had to hold some truth to them. Though her intentions were still shrouded in mystery.

"Then why the hell does she smell like that?"

"She doesn't," came the nonchalant reply and it had Nicole almost seething.

Is your ego stuffed up your nose, is what she wished she could snap and say, but she knew better.

If Miranda noticed the daggers in her eyes, she paid them no mind. Instead she noted something down on the paper precariously attached to the clipboard she got a hold of before exiting the lab they had been in previously. When she finished, she simply motioned for Nicole to follow and continued further down the hallway, without a second glance.

She only stopped once to exchange a few words with an unfamiliar assistant on the whereabouts of certain patients. Patiens. Why would Miranda keep any sort of patients down there?

Before she had time to dwell on it, Miranda pushed another door open, this time leading to another corridor dimly lit by strategically placed torches. Apparently nobody bothered to get electricity to this particular part of the underground maze of tunnels, the warm light so pleasant on the eyes as opposed to the harsh neons of the previous area. The tunnel was also long, way too long for it to be an often used path, especially given how awfully humid the air was becoming. Nicole tried to take a mental note of where they were heading, squinting her eyes in an effort to imagine what was above them, but with how convoluted the tunnels down there were, it was fruitless.

After maybe fifteen minutes of walking, awkward silence -at least awkward on her part, Miranda didn't seem to care- only broken by the echo of steps and the soft sounds of crackling fire from the torches, the tunnel ended in what looked to be a far too modern stairwell. Nicole had to pause for a second, looking at the unnerving contrast where dark ancient stone gave way suddenly to gray concrete and steel, going up in sharp angles and blocking the view to whatever laid above. The overall architecture did look vaguely familiar though, but Miranda didn't seem to have the patience for sightseeing as she quickly started walking up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase stood a steel door that was quickly unlocked to finally reveal a place that Nicole recognized. She blinked rapidly in surprise, all but freezing in the doorway at the sight of the hospital corridor she had walked down on so many times before, complete with a handful of nurses discussing in a corner. She shook her head and slowly followed the woman, not wanting to remain behind. It didn't take long before they came across the one person Miranda was apparently searching for.

"M- Mother Miranda," Salvatore's voice came in an oddly high pitch, at least for him, when he almost crashed with her in his hurry to get somewhere.

"Moreau," Miranda greeted with a nod and unreadable expression. "I need the documents on each of your patients and where they're staying." Straight to business apparently.

He simply nodded and moved his attention to one of the nurses standing nearby, instructing him to finish whatever task he was supposed to before their arrival. The man moved rigidly, painfully aware of Miranda's presence. Then, Moreau led them to his office, starting to pull out a consistent number of files from a large bookcase.

His office was, unsurprisingly, a mess aside from the one place he held the documents keeping track of all his current patients, complete with a few books and office supplies haphazardly placed on the desk. A few spare white coats were hanging just by the door, together with a long and worn leather jacket that he often times wore when outside the building. A familiar string of bones was also peeking from one of its pockets, nowadays worn as a necklace since, after the effects of his mutation were lessened, he found the crown quite unsightly.

"Are you coming by anytime soon," his voice came from behind, snapping her out of her exploration. "We could use a hand sometimes."

Nicole turned to give him a polite smile. "I may, but I have some things to get out of the way for now."

A glance in Miranda's direction revealed the woman hunched over the documents on the desk, writing down a list with the aid of whatever she was reading. They could do some small talk for the time being.

"How have you been," Nicole asked, turning to him again.

She and Salvatore were on quite friendly terms ever since she started occasionally helping out in the hospital that he was in charge of. Not that they had much time to ever hang out, but the few times they did, it's always been a pleasant interaction among colleagues.

"Some days are better than others," he responded with half a shrug.

Judging by the deep purplish circles under his eyes, today wasn't particularly stellar. He was slightly hunched, whether it was out of habit from a time when sitting straight was quite impossible or from tiredness, she couldn't tell.

"Any news from the castle?" He asked with a chuckle. He was rarely welcomed in Alcina's home so the curiosity wasn't unwarranted.

Nicole shrugged. "Same old same old. Bleeding out prisoners, stopping Daniela from breaking vases and all that boring pseudo nobility stuff."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Nobility? Should I start calling you my lady?"

Nicole snorthed, giving his shoulder a small shove that didn't make him move in the slightest.

Their joking banter was interrupted by Miranda all but shoving her way in between them and out the door, calling for her to follow. With a small wave, Nicole was quickly after her, falling in step just slightly behind the other woman. Though it was a small building after all, so it didn't take long to reach the first door on Miranda's list.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you feel," she flatly told Nicole while pushing the door open.

She frowned, eyes slightly narrowed in confusion and glued to Miranda's back as she stepped inside the small room after the woman.

Any incredulous question died on her tongue when she seemed to be yanked back in time, to the yearly family trips her father insisted they all go on. It was to a relative, or family friend, Nicole couldn't quite recall, who owned an old cabin near a lake. Problem was, the lake was always murky and full of algae, the water gaining an unpleasant scent under the August sun. She and Alex never tried swimming.

"Well?" Mirada raised an eyebrow, impatient.

Nicole scrunched up her nose, both wanting and desperately trying not to take a deeper breath. "Pond water? The kind of water that's stagnant and muddy in summer, full of dead fish and weeds."

She tried not to fidget, her mind running a thousand miles an hour. The so-called goddess seeming completely uninterested in shedding light on what the hell they were doing was not of much help either. A frustrated sigh threatened to escape when another person spoke up.

"Doctor?" A meek voice came from the only bed in the room, from a young woman who seemed asleep when they had walked in. She looked between the two of them confused and with squinted eyes.

Miranda simply raised a hand, not even sparing the girl a glance. "Pay us no mind, we're only here to check on something. We'll be on our way in a moment."

Nicole couldn't help the confused look she threw the girl's way. Was she not recognizing the woman this whole town worshipped? An amused snort almost escaped her but she knew better. Besides, who could really blame her? Mirada was wearing an oversized lab coat, blonde hair held back in a ponytail and there was no trace of the makeup that usually accompanied her ceremonial robes and mask.

Not that Nicole had time to appreciate the odd humanity of Miranda's outfit, as the woman turned on her heels and exited the room as soon as she was done writing. She was starting to grow annoyed with the uncooperative and know-it-all attitude, but decided against voicing any opinions and settled for following along to the next door.

It kept on being a rinse and repeat of the first room, only variables being the patients inside and her answers. Sometimes the change wasn't too obvious, maybe just a more metallic undertone or a new faint smell latching onto her senses, like the sickly sweet aroma of honey. A handful of times though she had to all but slap a hand over her face to not be overwhelmed by the enveloping stench. One room in particular made her almost stumbled backwards and out the door, when a strong metallic smell contrasting the accompanying one of decomposition hit her like a slap in the face. The man inside, who was evidently not doing particularly well, didn't seem appreciative of the apparently crazy woman coming in and rudely interrupting his rest.

Nicole didn't look forward to lingering around by that point, but there was one more room to check.

They pushed open the door, and the familiar stinging scent of decay immediately overtook her senses, seeming to latch on to the very inside of her throat. A small rivulet of blood also started dripping down her face, and Nicole quickly pulled out a paper tissue from her pants pocket to press against her nostrils. It was both to stop the bleeding and to shield her senses from the smell.

Once outside, Nicole was trying to catch her breath while Miranda was simply writing something down. Another set of steps approached them, who turned out to be Moreau coming to check on their findings. Upon being given the clipboard to read -he could actually decipher her chicken scratch, really?- he let out a curious hum.

"I need to go over John Abbott's file and compare them," Miranda started, clicking her pen and putting it back into her pocket. "I'll send an assistant after it later." Then she looked her way and waved a hand dismissively. "You're free to go, I'll send Emma after you when you're needed."

Nicole blinked, dumbfounded, her voice coming out harsher than she probably should've allowed it to be. "That's all? What did you find?"

The exasperated edge in her voice did not go unnoticed nor was it appreciated. Miranda rolled her eyes slightly and gave her an answer. "You can distinguish illnesses by smell. We'll do a more comprehensive test and list, but for now we have enough to say that's how the Mold manifested with you," Miranda explained, half turned away and ready to leave.

And she did turn to leave as soon as she was finished. With a nod towards Salvatore, she made her way back down the hospital corridor and presumably towards the passageway that led back to her lab.

Nicole wasn't particularly keen on going down there again if she could help it, so she instead stuck by Salvatore's side as they walked back to his office.

That day wasn't the first time Nicole had entered that room, so the fact that it also served as some kind of archive did not go past her. The office itself was decently sized, and even had a storage room attached to it with the sole purpose of keeping old files that may be important but Miranda didn't need at hand. Although, in all honesty, Salvatore wasn't particularly skilled in keeping everything organized. That's what my secretary is for, he would say, ignoring the fact that Miranda would gut anyone who touched those documents if they weren't part of the small group of people she deemed worthy. Therefore, the files were a mess, the only saving grace being that he at least had the foresight of organizing them by decade.

With a sigh, he started looking through the binders all but stuffed on one of the many shelves. Nicole sat down at his desk, occupying herself with a crayon that she started twisting around her fingers absent mindedly. There was some semblance of relief in finally figuring out what had so cruelly changed in her body, and what an ironic twist of fate said change was. To have spent years pouring over books learning about the illnesses that now were recognizable by something as simple as an acidic smell of blood. On the other hand though, the knowledge that Miranda had a tendency to find some kind of use for all her experiments left a sensation of dread slowly making its way into the deepest crannies of her chest, where a certain parasite had burrowed and made a nest for itself.

"Mind if I call the castle, I don't really feel like walking all the way back," she asked, eyes settling on the phone pushed to the side by a couple books and scattered pens.

"Sure," he responded without moving from where he was pulling out papers, only to shove them back inside their folders when they weren't the correct ones.

Her hands hovered over the keys for a moment. She wasn't about to call Alcina's personal phone to ask for a ride, heavens no. The phone in Carolina's study, where the Constable would spend her time when not in the stables, would be the best choice if only she could remember the number from memory. Nicole decided that the one in the main hall was the best next thing, where one of the guards at the entrance would probably hear the ringing and answer.

She dialed the number and listened to the typical ringing sound once, twice, until she thought nobody was actually around, but at last, a voice came from the other end.

"Alo?"

Nicole took a moment to recognize the voice as Dalia's, the head chambermaid.

"Hey, it's Nicole," she started toying with the pencil again. "I'm at the hospital, can you send Carolina with a horse to pick me up?" She sensed the slight hesitation on the other woman's side and thought to clarify. "I'm not injured, just with Moreau."

She heard a slight exhale from the other end of the line and had to entertain the thought of whether the woman was relieved due to genuine concern for her wellbeing, or she was well aware of how irritable her wife could be. Her being injured definitely made its way on the list of things that would bring out the anger and cruelty carefully crafted over almost a century.

Before hanging up the phone, she sighed and thought better of her request. "Actually, tell Cassandra to come."

She could almost feel the slight grimace from Dalia at being asked to go talk to the most sadist of the sisters, and with a request no less. Oh well, there's to hoping that Cassandra wouldn't be too peeved at said request coming from her wife.

She hung up after hearing an of course, my lady.

With a way to get back home without having to do the trek on foot assured, she leaned back in the chair, watching Salvatore continue on his search. He was standing with his hands on his hips, eyebrows pulled into a frown that slightly wrinkled the already rough skin of his forehead. He looked almost as if he resorted to glaring at the piles of papers, hoping that enough intimidation would scare the right file into jumping into his hands.

It almost made Nicole snort, were it not for the curiosity that both acted as a distraction and pleaded to get some more answers. "So, who's this… Jack Abbott?"

"John Abbott," he corrected without tearing his eyes from the shelf in front of him. He grimaced then. "He was one of Mother Miranda's earlier experiments, and had a very similar mutation to yours."

At that Nicole's eyebrows shot up past the low line of her fringe, interest successfully piqued. She turned in her seat to fully face him, one arm thrown over the back of the chair. When he didn't continue talking, instead pulling out one of the last binders on the shelf labeled 1930's, she impatiently prodded for more information. "And?"

Moreau pulled a face, probably wondering if he was even supposed to talk about it. It didn't take long for him to let out a defeated sigh, the demand to play dumb were Miranda to ever ask about this going unspoken, but more than understood. "Same thing as you really. He could tell what illness someone had by a specific smell, down to the nasty nose bleeds whenever it got too much," he started, noticing a few drops of blood that had dried on her upper lip.

He turned back to pulling out the very last binder dedicated to that decade and relaxed his posture ever so slightly when he saw JOHN ABBOTT written in big letters and black ink on one file. Another frown tugged his cracked lips downward, the information written in such a clinical way only mudding the memory of the frail man he had briefly met so many decades ago. "His body took well to the Cadou until… well ,until it didn't. I don't know what went wrong, but his body just rejected it at one point and he died being slowly consumed by the infection."

At that Nicole's face fell, dread now overtaking her usual curiosity. He must've noticed, for his next words came the slightest bit rushed and with a strained kind of reassurance that wasn't convincing to either of them.

"It may very well not be connected."

Nicole almost scoffed, not at him but at the situation at hand. The hand holding the pencil was tense and, had she not been as weak as she was, the wood would've probably cracked by then. "Did you know him?"

With a slight shake of his head, he answered, not a negation but more a gesture of pity. "Barely. I was brought here only after he started," he narrowed his eyes at a wall somewhere behind Nicole trying to find the right word. He didn't. "...deteriorating."

That was about as much as her brain wanted to know at the moment, letting a heavy silence fill the space for endlessly too long. She was caught in her own thoughts that started to twist and turn into countless what ifs. Thoughts that crashed to a halt when a nurse knocked on the half open door to announce her presence.

"Lady Cassandra is waiting outside," she told Nicole, expression pulled in a poker face that could only belong to someone who had to deal with her wife and tried to seem unbothered. Tried and failed.

Nicole sprung to her feet, circling the desk and about to make her exit when he called out. "Take care of yourself," Moreau told her, looking up from the papers he was reading.

Her lips turned slightly upwards into a smile. "You too." And then she left, rapid pace taking her through off-white hallways and slight smells that she was now painfully aware of.

Stepping outside was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one, the orange hue of the setting sun welcoming her after the hours passed under the harsh lab lights. How ironic was her hatred for the damned neon lights, when not too long ago she would've gladly spent her life under their bluish glow.

Even better than the warm sun on her skin, was the sight of Cassandra, dressed in her usual riding attire and absent mindedly scratching the furry muzzle of one of the castle's Clydesdale horses. A big beast of a horse, black and white with its feathery legs that, Nicole realized with an eye roll, she wouldn't dream of getting on without help.

Her pace quickened until she found herself embraced by a pair of strong arms, the stable smell mixed with Cassandra's cologne filling her senses with something finally pleasant. She didn't let go until she felt a gentle kiss placed on top of her auburn hair.

"Darling," Cassandra greeted her once she pulled back, gloved hand coming to rest on a pale cheek. "How are you?"

Nicole sighed and pushed into the touch, the kind of tiredness that could only be felt after a day spent bending over backwards to every one of Miranda's whims settling into her bones. "Ready to go back home."

Cassandra simply nodded once and moved her hands on her hips, getting a good enough grip before picking Nicole up to where her foot could reach the stirrup so she could pull herself up. Her wife decided that climbing in the saddle was below her at the moment, choosing instead to turn into a swarm, only to retake her human form a mere second later, on the horse's back, her front comfortably against Nicole's back. With a few taps of her boot against the stirrup still occupied by Nicole's foot in a silent demand to let her guide the horse, she took a hold of the reins and they finally started moving down the stone paved road.

There was no complaint on Nicole's part, taking it as a good opportunity to sit back and enjoy the ride, pressed to her wife's chest.

A few eternally long minutes were spent absentmindedly scratching the horse's muscular neck, where short black fur met the mane held in a beautifully done french braid, that only their Constable could pull so seamlessly. A few long minutes spent mulling over what she had found out, thoughts twisting cruelly with every worst case scenario her mind could conjure. Had she made a mistake? Was the infection a mistake to begin with? How cruel could fate be sometimes. Back in New York she had come to terms with a meaningless life, the only truly important thing she had amounted to at that point being choosing a career path to spite her father. But now, after finding a place to call home where she ached to stay to the point of seeking eternity for it, the very thing that could allow her to remain there forever could also take her life away, miserably so.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice snapped her back to reality, so much so that she even shook her head a couple times to chase away the lingering thoughts. She gave an inquisitive hum in an attempt to play dumb. The attempt was met with an incredulous eye roll.

"You're quiet," she simply responded.

"I'd think spending decades with Daniela would make you appreciate quiet people," Nicole jokingly threw back.

"Not you," came the reply, one hand leaving the reins and coming to rest on her thigh. "I love hearing you talk, even when you're blabbering about proper medical technique."

At that Nicole let out a light gasp, turning around with mild offence written in her eyes. She couldn't find anything to retaliate with for once, setting instead for giving her wife a slight shove with her elbow, that only elicited a laugh.

She shook her head and let out a sigh. "We did figure out what's with the damned nosebleeds." At a curious hum and Cassandra's chin coming to rest on top of her head, she went on. "Apparently I can distinguish illnesses by smell. Now that would've been useful during med school," she finished with a bitter laugh.

Her wife responded with a snort. "If I were Daniela, I'd say you're joking to hide how you really feel." She shrugged. "However I'm not her, and I'm assuming you'll simply tell me without the need of an impromptu psychoanalysis," she said almost smugly, the hand that was until then lazily placed on her leg finding its place around her waist.

The times when Nicole wished to curse her wife's apparently impeccable observation skills were rare, but this was one such occasion.

She almost let out a groan, pushing further back into Cassandra's form. "There was this other man, John Abbott, with the same mutation. Except his body rejected the Cadou and he died slowly and painfully," she explained, her voice quieting halfway through, but almost flinched when the arm around her went stiff with an almost vice-like grip. The realization of how long Cassandra has really been in the Village for slowly crept its way from Nicole's memory, having been filed away and almost forgotten in a metaphorical drawer of obvious things that however were rarely brought up. "Did you know him-"

"You won't end up like that sorry bastard."

The conviction behind that one simple sentence almost had Nicole letting out another short bitter laugh. Not out of bemusement of course. Irony perhaps, at how determined her wife was to double down on cheating death, not only for herself but her too. Even when death could be brought by the very thing keeping them alive.

"Not much we could do about that," she said in a small voice, one hand toying with the black fabric of Cassandra's sleeve.

"Don't think for one moment that I'm joking," she started, an edge of a warning behind her tone. Her hand came to rest more gently on the bottom of Nicole's sternum, where the skin had healed in a dark scar that seemed to send jagged cracks all the way to her stomach. "I'll pull the wretched little thing out of your chest myself if I have to."

At that Nicole actually let out a laugh. "Way to go with something morbidly romantic."

Cassandra chuckled close to her ear, bending down slightly to leave a peck where her neck and shoulder met. "You're not going to die. I won't allow it."

A silent possessiveness accompanied her words. An implication that she now belonged there, in her arms, and frivolous things such as death had no place to come between them. She should flinch at such implications, were it not for the fact that it was mutual and Cassandra knew better than to recklessly throw herself on death's path, knowing well that soon her wife would follow in her steps.

The soft kiss was returned when Nicole bent back again, until the angle between their bodies allowed for their lips to meet tenderly, in a way that anyone would believe was so utterly uncharacteristic to the both of them, ruthless in their own ways but soft like velvet running on smooth skin with each other.

They rode in comfortable silence up until the gates to the stable, where they dismounted and handed the reins to one of the servants waiting there. The sun had set by then, purple and dark blues reigning the skies as they entered the castle through one of the secondary doors.

She parted ways with her wife, saying that she would soon join the rest of their family as she headed up the stairs. A change of clothes was due. That and a request to their seamstress.

Oh her way back down, she stopped by the open door to the woman’s studio, busy with readjusting some garments for one of the ladies. A curt knock on the wooden frame of the entrance got her attention and had her pulling a face upon realizing that she had probably lost count of whatever she was mentally keeping track of. Nonetheless, she offered a polite smile when greeting Nicole.

“My lady, what can I do for you?”

“I need a facemask,” Nicole started.

The woman’s eyebrows pulled in a confused frown. “I thought a new batch of surgical masks just arrived the other day.”

Nicole raised a hand when she went to check on the shipments list. “I meant something I can wear for longer and outside the lab, surgical masks have a tendency to clash with an elegant gown, you know,” she explained with a chuckle. “Preferably that can filter out any smells?”

“Oh. Of course, I’ll just need to take your measures to make sure it’s fitted for you.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” she proposed and, after the seamstress gave her an hour, she continued on her way down the hallway to where the rest of the Dimitrescus were gathered.

Being home brought some peace of mind, thoughts of dying and being forcefully ripped away from her life momentarily placated in favor of enjoying a few hours by the fireplace with her family. Leaning against Cassandra as she draped an arm around her shoulders and listening to Daniela and Bela have a hilariously heated debate over the latest book they've read felt downright blissful in its mundane aspect.

Although no matter what, the little parasite that now called the inside of her chest its home, was quietly gnawing at her worried mind.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #salvatore moreau #to bargain for immortality #fanfic #big reveal is big

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antihero-writings · 5 years ago

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Stolen Sunlight (Ch3)

Fandom: Tangled | Tangled the Series | Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure

Fic Summary: Arianna never thought she'd find herself afraid of a fourteen-year-old boy, but the events of Secret of the Sundrop won't seem to leave her.

She needs to talk to Varian in prison. Not for his sake...but for her own.

Character focus: Arianna

Notes:

Aaand here comes another internal monologue-heavy chapter XD

This was probably the chapter that gave me the most trouble when attempting to edit over the years, so this feels really good to finish! (At least a version of it, I may edit it more as time goes on XD). I would have liked to cut down the internal monologue, but I decided to just keep it in for now. I also kind of wanted to split this chapter into more than one to make it more palatable, but the ideas tie into each other so much I felt like I couldn't really do that? By the time the next chapter came out, the connections between ideas would be lost? I don't know...

The next chapter should have more dialogue XD But be warned it may take longer, as now we're getting to the part I haven't really written.

All your support for this fic has been such a HUGE help in giving me motivation to continue!! I definitely wouldn't have posted the next chapters so fast without all your support!! So thank you all so so SO much!!!!

Also! I forgot to mention the songs I like for this story! I've been writing this for so many years I have a list of songs for this fic XD but the two songs I thing fit most for this fic (especially the themes in this chapter) are "Towards the Sun" by Rihanna and "The Sun is Rising" by Britt Nicole.

P.S. I’m thinking of creating a Tangled-specific side blog (mostly as a Tangled-only writing blog, but I’ll likely reblog other Tangled related things there too), do you guys have any ideas for urls? The one I like the most right now is “two-words-where-one-will-do” XD

Chapter 3: Burglarize, Criticize, Sympathize

When she arrives at the dungeon’s door, carrying notebook between her hands, it is almost nightfall. The last of the day is at her back, urging her onwards. Her shoes tick against the tiles as she ventures down the hall.

Everything looks different during the day. At night the navy air was a haze, clouding her thoughts, magnifying all the negative feelings within her. Now her head is clear, and the waning blue day urges her onward, fueling all the positivity and determination in her.

“Your majesty,” the guards hold their halberds higher, puffing out their chests, as if to show they’re strong for this kingdom, “Is there something we do for you this evening?”

“Thank you, Stan, Pete.” She folds her hands and inclines her head in a sort of bow to each of them. “There is, in fact.”

They stand expectantly for her request.

“You can let me into the dungeon.”

They glance at each other.

“Of course, your majesty,” Stan bows, reaching for the door.

“Um…May we ask what this is about?” Pete steps forward, more hesitant.

Perhaps servants ought to do what their masters ask without hesitation. But, in a way, it was only fitting—some might say even more in line with their duties—for him to be apprehensive. He is concerned for his monarch’s well being after all. It wasn’t exactly normal for her to go down to the dungeon, nor is it a place a Queen would be most welcome.

“You know Varian is down there, right?” Pete speaks behind his hand when she doesn’t answer.

“I am aware. In fact, he’s the reason I’m going down there in the first place.”

Their eyes widen, then they give each other a look.

She steps forward before they can say anything more. “He’s just a boy,” she says softly.

“Uhh, yeah, a boy who fed me evil cookies!” Pete exclaims. “And let’s not forget, he kidnapped you!”

“Well…yes, that’s true. But he’s still just a boy.” She looks down at the notebook and runs her fingers along the cover. “He’s hurting, he needs help” she says half to the air, “…Besides, he can’t hurt me from behind bars.”

“But—with all due respect—your majesty—“

“I appreciate your concern,” she says in a conversation-ending way, stepping forward and placing her hand on his shoulder, “but…this is something I must do.”

They glance at each other once more, before lowering their heads and opening the doors, reluctance in their motions.

Her shoes sound against the winding stone staircase, leading her down, down into the realm beneath the castle. The last dregs of day drip from the open door along the staircase a few steps ahead of her, as if saying Hey, come on! Follow us! Don’t be afraid! We’ll be with you each step of the way.

Arianna is not doing this for him. She reminds herself of this. He was not gentle that day, and she knows prison is unlikely to have made him any tamer. He never asked for her forgiveness, whether or not he wants it, and he will not likely be kind in his responses, like the boy she had once met in the castle halls above. He no longer belongs to those halls; he haunts the space beneath them. At least, that’s what everyone thinks…including him.

She’s trying not to.

She must admit, she is doing it for him in some way; in that she, even now, even after everything he did to her, even after—or perhaps because of—the sleepless nights… she cares. Some would say it’s one of her fatal flaws. She wants him to realize there is more to him than this cell, these chains, and a few black—and one amber—rocks sticking up from the floor. He is more than metal and moonlight.

But she also knows if this is for him and him alone, she will fail in her endeavor. If she thinks she is saving a poor, lost boy’s soul, she will lose both their souls in the process, and leave them wandering in the dark.

Forgiveness has never been about the one who did the crime.

“Your majesty!” the guards patrolling the dungeon bow low. “What an honor! What can we do for you on this fine evening?”

“Thank you.” She inclines her head in return, then says without a hint of hesitation or anxiety, “You can take me to see Varian.”

“You’re…here to see… Varian?” They glance at each other. “Your majesty, with all due respect, are you sure you want to do that? Varian he…hasn’t been very cooperative.”

She gives a small, sad smile. “I understand. I’ll be very careful.”

They stand on either side of her, leading her to him.

This was something important, something she had to do. For her state of mind, and of her soul and conscience, even if no one else understood. The bars and chains would be enough to keep him from any attempts at action, and the guards would be ready to act at the moment anything went wrong.

On her walk to his cell, the other prisoners spit in her face and footsteps, laugh her name as she strides by. She had come to accept their attitudes and actions, and ignore them, a long time ago; let them have their threats, a few pitiful insults are all they have left in here, and they are not enough to make a dent in her pride anyways.

Varian is not some beast, like the one he sent after those she loved that day—(then again…neither was that creature truly a beast)—he won’t claw through the bars.

Still, as she draws nearer, her heart speeds up.

Why does stone and metal seem so feeble now, when it was unbreakable, when it was alive, then?

Maybe its the one who was using the metal; he was someone who understood what it was made of, sympathized with its chemistry.

She may know nothing of metal…but she knows what he is made of.

And she sympathizes.

They bring her to the furthest cell from the door.

Her expression softens when she sees him; he’s on the bench in the corner of his cell, hugging his knees, like the world forgot him.

Fractures of light drain across the form of a boy—even smaller and weaker than before, his hair greasy and long—and sizzle on the cold, stone floor. Though the rays dance, urging him to come play with them, as they had with Arianna, they can’t seem to cut through the shadows upon his face. Already it seemed he had told himself the sun couldn’t reach him down here, even when it was draped across his eyes.

They even chained his hands …which is more than he did with her.

She can’t exactly blame them. He is the most dangerous person in the kingdom, after all. Or so he’s called. And, being here in his presence—or, more so the presence of the memories seeing him brings—she isn’t exactly complaining about the extra precaution.

But he is still just a fourteen-year-old boy.

—(Or was it fifteen now? Had he had his birthday in this cell? She hates to think of that, of a young boy spending his birthday without presents, or parties, or a cake, or even so much as a nice wish from his dad. She tells herself that he must be fourteen still to ease the pain.)—

Sitting in the dungeon he hasn’t changed; hasn’t transformed into some sort of monster just by being caged and fed scraps. He is still so young. Just a boy, who deserved better. Fourteen years old, all rage, and pain, and grief.

The queen holds the notebook she brought—the reminder of her intentions in coming here—tighter to her chest, which itself is growing tight.

She is a queen, yes, but also a mother. Not his, but something motherly in her sees his hurt, and wants to comfort it, sing to it, read to it, hold it close, and tell it everything will work out in the end, even if she isn’t sure it will. She knows what it’s like to lose family, to have tragedy in your heartbeat.

Kindness, childhood innocence, is something people take for granted. Everyone has their troubles—more pressing matters—so, there are times when everyone brushes this kindness by, knocks it to the cobblestones, in the presence of the problems we must face and fix, here and now, while we are still young—(though we are no longer innocent ourselves). At some point everyone denounces something so bright and precious as their own conscience, as naiveté and ignorance, so as not to regret their actions. They don’t mean it, actively think it, but it’s there, all one must do is stop looking away. That compassion was all he had, all he was, at one point. A heart full, forgiving and, kind. The mistakes he made were just that; mistakes. Not some purposeful show of capability, and control.

That was before. Before the storm, and the amber, the broken promises, and the flower.

Fourteen years old, yes. But he is not a child. Maybe he wasn’t before either, but it’s different now. He’s different now. Something’s missing. Something important to making you a child. He’s missing something…someone. She knows what that’s like. She once missed someone. Something important to making her a parent.

She knew Rapunzel never meant any harm, never meant to break her promise, and that she had had to make the hardest decision of her life that day, the day she and Frederic were gone—(oh how she wished they had never left). She also knew Rapunzel hadn’t chosen wrong, nor had she chosen right, she had simply chosen, and that’s what being queen is all about. What being human is all about. …And that is everything wrong with being queen. Everything wrong with humanity. Rapunzel had just learned that too early, or perhaps too late. (Everything always felt too late when it came to Rapunzel, and it made Arianna feel sick sometimes).

The fact that the breaking of a promise, and the breaking of a heart, is enough to cause an entire kingdom falter in one night, is not something one can ever really get used to, no matter how long the crown has been sitting on their head.

But maybe—something bright, hopeful…naïve? in her wonders—though it isn’t Rapunzel’s fault… maybe it isn’t completely Varian’s either.

Maybe there isn’t ever only one at fault. Maybe the fault lines run along each of us—much like the black rocks jutting up from their kingdom’s ground—they are everywhere, in all of us alike, creating cracks in solid relationships, there’s no pattern to them, no way of really breaking them. The best we can do is try to understand them instead of ignore them. We can only hope to build bridges, and that we won’t burn them down as we cross them.

There aren’t a lot of people like Varian. In the kingdom, in the world, she supposes; fourteen-year-old boys with heads full of knowledge, and hands that liked to slip, a heart full to the brim with nature of a good kind, but a bit too bittersweet, a little too easy to break. And when his hands didn’t do what he told them, important things, like glass, and trust, shattered upon the floor. There were fourteen-year-old boys who were smart, and ones who were kind, there were clumsy ones, and funny ones, and inappropriate ones, and sly ones, but this one, with all the kindness, and intelligence, in tandem with all the clumsiness, and the grey, was a rarity. It was rare for someone to be so bright, and so dark. Most people are just one or the other.

They didn’t take into account the messes he made, how he could wreck his hometown on accident, simply because he had…what was it? a vision? a dream? an ambition? a simple hypothesis? A plot, a plan, a ploy. All depends on the word you use; words are like spells, sometimes creating the affect you intend simply by repeating them enough. He could destroy a town on accident, all because there was something, something good he wanted to do, a problem he wanted to solve, and he miscalculated a percentage. They didn’t take into account that they really should have been asking themselves, if this was a miscalculation… what kind of damage can he cause when he does the math right? If this was an accident…what kind of damage can he do on purpose?

They all shared blame for the unasked question. But when Rapunzel came home that first day she met him, Arianna never took a second to—instead of smiling at her stories, and the drawings in her journal—ask if maybe that made him dangerous.

And when her daughter came to her after the storm—her hands curled into fists, waging war against the tears in her eyes, and ran to her, burying her face in her chest, her arms around her, saying she didn’t think she wanted to be queen after all—she never once thought to ask if maybe they should send someone to go check on Varian.

Then, on that day he was not the flowery drawings Rapunzel made of him in her journal, not the boy she had met once, on a sunny afternoon, not the desperate child crying for someone to save his dad in the midst of the storm. He was still confident, and stubborn, and his words were still playful… but without the smile. He was still desperate, without a single tear, or plea for help, he was everything he once was, without the light. He was a mask, the color green shimmering in her eyes, her title, and a command to sleep. He was a cause, a curse, misguided conviction, desire, and grief. Not a fourteen-year-old boy, not compassion, not kindness, or naiveté, just that stubbornness, that desperation. Everything else, even those things that he once would never touch with his disobedient hands, became means to his end.

“I’ll make them hear me!”

…Was that all he wanted? If that was all, why couldn’t they listen? Why couldn’t they just go check on him, and see if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t okay? They should have listened to him. One of the saddest things in the world is to watch a child’s words fall on deaf ears; to watch a child standing in a crowd, going after person after person, tugging at their clothes, trying so hard just to be heard. And eventually, if they never are, the scene either inevitably ends with anger or tears. All they had to do was listen. It would have been so simple.

When Arianna was younger, first growing accustomed to the weight of a crown, they told her that villains would topple the woman beneath, spill her blood, to reach the jewels. She would receive threats, some real—backed with blades and armor—and others empty as the hearts who made them, and she would have to learn to tell the difference. Frederic had said in a show of sweet, but somewhat sappy, sentiment, that she was ‘the kingdom’s most precious jewel’, and her protection was his first priority, no matter the cost. She was grateful for the gesture, but being an adventurer, she was perfectly capable of handling herself. Adding a crown to the weight of the life she already knew how to protect didn’t rattle her.

She never imagined that one day, she would be kidnapped, and the one to succeed would be, not bandits on the road, or separatists, or sorcerers, but…a kid.

When she woke up in his lab, chains around her ankles, the blue of his eyes not much better than the pale, emotionless glow of the mask, she still couldn’t believe the sweet kid she had once met was behind that ice. No, not this boy. Not this villain. Maybe she didn’t know him before, but when they did meet, it had struck her how bright his eyes had been. His eyes, his voice, his smile... Without that light he seemed like a different person.

“Any moment now, your highness.” he had hissed, before singing that he had made a pact with the darkness, that they deserved all this, and they he might not be ready, but he was as ready as he’d ever be…

Varian scared her.

There was no other word for it, no other way to describe it. She would have tried to deny it; it seemed silly, after all, to be afraid of a fourteen-year-old boy who had once posed no threat, who she had even joked with. In fact, she would have once laughed at the very thought that he would one day scare her. But there came a point where there was nothing left to think but the truth.

When all it took was a drop of a mistake, a mistake he made that led to the rest, a mistake her daughter made that led to a test, an amber crypt, a few hurt-soaked words…that scared her, he scared her.

Because there came a time when that green chemical he had teased her with fell and burned on the black, turning amber and solid, cracking, crawling—not inanimate crystal, but some creature, alive, after all the things she held dear—towards her…

Watching orange and golden spires crackle closer, her heart couldn’t remain steady. And, yes, it would have been scary for anyone; to sit there while imminent imprisonment, or demise—(they couldn’t know which)—crept ever closer, while they were tied to the floor, with no means of break or escape….but that wasn’t quite enough to cause this sort of reaction.

She’d faced life-threatening situations; her own death or imprisonment before. One could never face it with a steady heart, breath, and sense of reason, but there was an exhilaration to it too; being close to death made life closer too. When the bandits put swords to her throat, or some creature took her back to its lair, yes she was scared, but sometimes she’d smirk at Willow, and, as she cut herself down, as she clashed swords with the villains, she would feel so very alive.

There was nothing exhilarating this time, nothing exciting, nothing that made life feel as close as death. She’d had no one-liners or fun strategies…was she just getting old?

He was very different from the bandits she had once faced in her travels. He wasn’t some sniveling storybook villain, or routine thug just looking for some extra cash. He had much deeper reasons for doing this.

He told them that they deserved this. All this pain. That sweet boy in the sunlight thought they deserved to be torn from each other, and used for their parts. Was that possible? Was any of this possible?

He had much deeper reasons for doing this. He was hurting. He was human. And that makes for a far more terrifying villain; the toughest villains to face are not the strongest, or the most powerful… but the ones we can see ourselves in. Because we have to break the mirrors, and that may just give us seven years’ bad luck. Break our views of ourselves. Break our views of the other. And maybe see them as people like us, worthy of being saved, of forgiveness. How had it had taken her thirty-odd years to learn that?

It wasn’t he himself she was afraid of. What made fear truly latch on to her, was just how easy it all was. How one drop of his solution could create a prison of amber. How one choice could lead to a path of hatred. How easy it was for him to watch his father become entombed in a prison of gold, to lose a parent, then turn to face her daughter, and attempt to take a parent from her. All because she broke a promise; chose to save the kingdom over him. That was enough for him, enough for him to find a place for that pendulum of blame to land. What scared her more than her own peril was how easy it was for him, for this compassionate, sunlit boy, to throw everything else aside, away, shut off the light, and plunge himself into darkness.

—(And, if he was human, didn’t that mean she could do that too?)—

And, as far as the life-threatening went, what scared her most was not her fate; not he amber, nor the chains, not the kidnapping, nor the blame. Her own peril may have unsteadied her heart, but what made her blood run cold as that storm with both fear and anger was her daughter’s life and safety being teased before her. How easy it was for him to hold his friend’s life in the balance. The way she cried out in pain as he hooked her hair up to that machine—(he once did so long ago with no ill intent)—the way she cried out in pain in that lab, that lab that lab—

This fear for her daughter, more than own well-being, had been a part of her for a while now. Ever since Rapunzel was born. Even more since she came back. When she was told of the dangers of wearing a crown, she wasn’t afraid for her own fate. But when Rapunzel was born everything changed.

It was Rapunzel. Always Rapunzel. When their daughter was born, she learned there was a jewel worth more than her life, and the weight of a crown. Suddenly Frederic’s statement about ‘the kingdoms most precious jewel,’ the lengths he went to save her life, made sense.

And all too soon, she learned then what it was like to have someone you love snatched from you, without warning, or threat, or a second glance.

That night, when Rapunzel was stolen from them, just like she was another jewel.

That night, when the wind was quiet, but fast, and cold, and the moon was full, and their little sundrop was stolen away by a woman in a cloak of night.

She knows how hard it is to forgive that person. She could understand that. How hatred and revenge burn in your gut, and can corrode through your heart if left unchecked. The weight of the faultline is a heavy one. She could understand how, especially when you’re young, it would be difficult to accept such a weight upon yourself. That one might do anything and everything in their power to slough it off, to keep from breaking the mirror. And if you are simply looking for someone besides yourself to place the burden of blame on, how everyone could suddenly seem at fault. But she also knows how to move beyond vengeance, into forgiveness—or, perhaps not so far as forgiveness, but at least something that isn’t unforgiveness.

This boy is not Gothel. He is different. She knows that. He is just a boy, a boy who is unbelievably smart, a boy who was kind, but whose kindness they mistook for naiveté, and brushed aside, enough that he forgot himself. He is a boy who lost someone, just like she did. He is grieving, and misled within his own head, just like she is. And she knows how much easier it is to hate someone else, than to admit you were wrong. That they’re gone, and even if you didn’t mean to, even if it was by mistake, some of the fault lies with yourself…

She could have hated him for what he did to her. She could have hated him more for what he did to her daughter. She could have chosen revenge, and unforgiveness. No one would have faulted her for it—she wouldn’t even have to bear the weight of the faultline.

But that wasn’t her. She wasn’t going to turn around and do to him what he did to them. It had taken this long to forgive—(or something close enough)—Mother Gothel, to choose the fact that she had Rapunzel back, the light, over wallowing in the dark. She wasn’t going to throw away what she learned then, now, especially not when she knew that that light hadn’t abandoned him, even if he had tried to abandon it.

She wasn’t going to abandon him.

It was a parent he lost, and it was a parent he needed.

What mattered was not what Gothel took her from her, it was that she has Rapunzel now.

What mattered to him—whether he knew it or not—she was sure, was knowing that there was still hope, still something, someone there for him now. She had to help him realize that it was not about what he had lost, but what he still had—(which was more than they all thought. A mustard seed of kindness is more than most of us have). She wished they had arrived soon enough to teach him that earlier. She hoped she could still show him that now.

He is still fourteen-years-old. Still a kid. A kid, lost, and hurting. Despite her own animosity, she could detect the desperation in his voice, the pain flickering behind his anger when he cried “It’s not my fault! None of it is!” And when those blue eyes blew out their circuits, and swiveled to their daughter, all rage and pain, looking for somewhere, some place, someone, to blame, and his voice became so much like a beast’s growl that the adventurer in her wanted to hunt him down—

“It’s her fault.”

…But he was—he is—not a beast. Even then.

That’s what made it so scary, after all; that he was still human. It would have been easy to call him a monster. That would have made things easier on the rest of them at least, to forget he was human. Easy to lock him up and leave him. But what was scary was that he was human, and she would never be able to forget that. What made it so scary was the pain behind the growls. If she had forgotten, she could have left him here in the dark without guilt or precedent.

The part of her that wants to denounce him as a beast doesn’t want to admit there is something else there, something searching to be redeemed, searching for any last hope, and…And that was something she understood. Despite the fear, how easy it was, she knew what it was to look for anything, any single shred of hope to cling to. And how even a spiderweb of hope can save lives.

And wasn’t the ease the other thing that scared her about him? How he turned to the dark so quickly?

So no, she wasn’t going to go gently into that goodnight.

He wasn’t completely right then, about Rapunzel. But he wasn’t completely wrong either. Some of the blame didn’t find its home with him. It didn’t justify the lengths he went, and how easy it was for him to leap them, but they had left him, after all. Someone should have gone to see him, to make sure he hadn’t lost his way in the storm.

This, and one other small fact led her to believe that he wasn’t completely gone; he never chained her hands. Just her feet. He didn’t do it kindly, and she was sure he didn’t intend it to display mercy. Others may have called it an empty gesture, said So what? You were still chained, what’s the difference?

Thinking about it later, it was the smaller gestures like this that mattered, that betrayed the spiderweb’s difference between hope and despair.

It’s the hands that are dangerous; they’re what slip, and let things break, and catch us all the same. He only chained her method of escape, not her hope to twist his plans—(almost if deep down he wanted her to twist those plans, like he was giving her that thread of hope himself).

He is a fourteen-year-old boy, and they left him there, in the dungeon. And that is not something she can live with. She was the one he kidnapped, so perhaps she is the one with the most right to be angry.

But they left him to rot in here, like the Flower she hadn’t known Frederic had kept.

He stole a flower to save the one he loved…that sounded like another story she knew well, and that story had ended in disaster too.

The more she thought about, Frederic couldn’t see how, when Arianna herself was dying, he would have done anything to save her life, and how Varian, in a way, was doing the same thing. That didn’t excuse his methods, but, still, the similarities gave her pause. They were both angry, both afraid, desperate to save those they love. But Varian wasn’t a king, and his methods were not so pure, so he was left to the dungeons, his father still trapped, and the king walked the halls above, his wife safe and well, without punishment, even though they both stole the sun in the hopes of healing the hurt, making the clock reverse.

She wouldn’t have necessarily wanted things to turn out differently, still, she had to admit there was irony in the situation.

If she had been angry, if she had come down here to spit in his face, they might have called it justice.

But that is not who she is. Who she wants to be. Forgiveness may not be a word she can quite use with Mother Gothel, but she did everything she could to fight the dark then. When Rapunzel came back, she did everything she could to stop herself from locking her up and keeping her safe from everything that dared hurt her.

She let her go out and make friends with him…but letting people in meant giving them the chance to betray you. The only way to keep her completely safe was to lock her away. …But doing so would have made her the villain. And she of all people knew danger was the name of living.

Forgiving him doesn’t mean she approves of what he did. Doesn’t mean she isn’t afraid, or angry, or has fully recovered. It just means that she isn’t going to let the darkness that had taken him so easily have its way with her too. She didn’t want to leave him, she wanted him to be better, she believed that he could be—she had seen what was right in him, she had seen what was left of him. She needed to let him know that someone cared, that she believed he was human, like the rest of us. Not a villain, not a monster, and that she didn’t think he deserved to be left behind in chains. …But he had to see it too.

When she appears before him, a progression of bars and some well-trained guards don’t seem like quite enough—though once upon a time she talked to him without the bars, or the animosity, and he had seemed more than harmless then.

There are no words of respect. He doesn’t bow, or even address her, or look at her at first. She isn’t a queen here, to him, anymore; she is simply the mother of the girl who never broke a promise, except the one she made to him. She is simply a chess piece he once chained to the floor of his lab.

He doesn’t give her any sign of respect, or that he’s even noticed her. But he also doesn’t throw curse at her feet like many of the other prisoners did.

At first, he remains silent. His eyes both have somehow lost their fire, and are as electric as they were that day, glowing in the cold grey of the room.

Everything grey. No black or white here.

“Varian.” Her voice is steady and sober.

“Your highness.” His response pounces, sharp as a claw through the bars.

His words are grey too.

He merely addressed her, but there is a bite behind her words. That sting doesn’t feel so empty in his mouth as it did in those of the other prisoners—(just like how he felt different as a villain, now he feels different as a prisoner)—but the words are worn, ragged, from his voice being kept too long silent. A quiet resolve. A lost, broken conviction, but standing nonetheless. He doesn’t hiss the phrase like he did then—all dauntless, and confident he is right, and they’re all wrong, sure he cannot, will not, lose—but he also doesn’t say it kindly, in any way that asks for forgiveness, or implies respect. Nothing betrays the fact that he is a broken boy, lost and hurting. It is simply stated as a fact, hanging there in the air; she is her highness, she walks the castle high above him, and he is here, in this cell fading in the darkness below.

But she is no angel, and he is no demon, even if everyone else treats him like one.

He is just a boy. She has to remind herself of that. Over, and over, until it finally sticks. That, and that she is not doing this for him.

She is doing this for herself. For her own heart. If she doesn’t forgive him, if she tells herself that the light cannot—or worse, should not—reach him down here, she really is letting darkest parts of herself win.

Forgiveness has never been about the one being forgiven, but about the one doing the forgiving.

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