#The heart attack when the dog just suddenly sprang out of a house I was walking by and ran towards me 😮‍💨 I love dogs a lot and/but I've

[lady-potato-ninja]

It's only 7h30 and it's been such a day already 😅 I got the jumpscare of my life because of a doggy (forgiven since it was a cutie pie) and then one of the older man I take care of at my job tried to hit me three times (forgiven because of Alzheimer related illness). The day just started 😅😅

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Season 16 (Part 1)

Summary: After being captured by Michael while Dean was under his control, the reader has spent a very long time locked away waiting for someone to come and find her. When the day finally comes that the door opens, it’s not a familiar face she’s greeted with. Somehow the impossible is standing right in front of her but there’s no time to think about that. Something is terribly wrong and the reader needs the help of this strange young man if she wants to stop what Michael’s put in motion and have a chance at seeing Dean alive again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Free Space

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, SPN season 15 and series spoilers, injury, mention of main character deaths, mention of torture, angst, fluff

A/N: This series takes place post season 15 and follows canon (i.e. if it happened in the show, it happened in this story’s universe). This series is told between the reader and Dean’s POV. This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story bingo!

________

Reader’s POV

You just about had a heart attack when the door opened. It’d been such a long time since it’d been opened. Years and years and years. You’d lost track of the days quickly but it was long enough for you to accept that it’d been a very long time. Long enough to accept that when Michael took over Dean and threw you down in the windowless little room, Dean didn’t win that fight.

The only thing keeping you going aside from the spell Michael had put up to keep you permanently trapped, body stuck in time, was the desire to save Dean. Or what was left of him. You’d been alone for years, body having taken a beating by Michael when he first captured you. You were still covered in bruises, broken ribs that wouldn’t heal, pain in every breath. You didn’t sleep, didn’t eat. Solitude, cut off from the world, that was your main form of torture. Dean though...who knew what hell he was going through trapped with a psychopath like that for all these years.

You readied yourself, a dark figure walking inside the room. The room was pitch black to a certain point before you were trapped under a bright light you’d yet to figure out how to turn off. The figure stopped as their feet hit the brightness, a pair of brown boots and slim dark jeans all you could make out. They mumbled something and you felt the air shift slightly. You dared to reach at hand out to where the invisible wall keeping you trapped had been.

Your hand waved right on through it and you suddenly felt cool, clean air hit you. The person jolted when you sprang up, running away as you bolted for the door. You followed them up a flight of stairs and straight out into the foyer of a very nice house. You could see it was a man now and tackled him, straddling his hips and grabbing your knife from your waistband of your loose shorts, holding it to his throat. He breathed hard as you stared at him, cocking your head.

He was the spitting image of Dean. Mostly. His eyes weren’t green and there was something about his nose that reminded you of your own. The biggest tell of all though was the genuine fear in his face, the confusion. 

“What’s your name,” you said. You held up the knife for a moment and tucked it away when you saw he was only focused on it. The young man, no more than twenty years old, took a deep breath. You yelped when he threw his legs up and wrapped them around your waist, yanking you off of him. He scrambled to his feet but you were on his tail, grabbing at his jacket. He spun around and popped you in the face, sending you to the floor.

You whined and cupped your cheek, the young man frozen in the doorway with a horrified look on his face.

“Who punches their own mom!” you shouted. He ran out the door and you went after, growling at your bare feet as he took off down the gravel driveway. “I’m gonna find you!”

You stomped your foot on the cool concrete front path, glancing to your right and spotting a sports car. You jogged back inside and found a pair of women’s sneakers, a little too big but you tied them tight and found some keys on a front table. 

About two minutes later you were pulling up beside the guy on the road and hopped out of the car, the man running into the nearby treeline. You pulled out your knife and threw it, catching his jacket and pinning the sleeve to the tree trunk. He stumbled and fell down as you walked over, staring up with wide eyes. You sighed and ran a hand over your face. 

“Can you at least tell me your first name?” you asked. He shook his head and you crossed your arms. “I bet your name is Lyle, isn’t it.”

“How’d you know that?” he asked, voice a bit higher than Dean’s but it made you smile, something warm and familiar to it.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think recently. Lyle is my top name for a boy if I ever had one,” you said. “So. Lyle Winchester.”

“That’s not my name,” he said. He stood up and pulled out the knife, carefully holding it out to you.

“You look just like Dean and me. You’re my son...somehow,” you said.

“Fine. My name is Lyle and that’s all I can say about myself,” he said. “I’m serious.”

You recognized the tone, that edge to it, the roughness but laced with an undercurrent of worry. Part of you wanted him to tell you everything about him but you knew he couldn’t, instead letting yourself give him a simple nod.

“I’ll make you a deal Lyle. I won’t ask questions about you that you can’t answer if you tell me how and why you got me out of there and answer anything else I want to know about this little situation.”

“Or else what?” he scoffed.

“Or else someday when you’re a teenager I won’t let you do anything. Lyle.” You took the knife from him and put it away, taking a deep breath. You stepped back out to the road, leaning against the car. You shut your eyes, something heavy draped over you. You peeled one eye open, Lyle leaning back against the car next to you in a blue flannel and dark gray t-shirt. His black hooded jacket was over your shoulders and you slipped your arms through the sleeves, wrapping them around yourself. You squeezed your eyes tight, shuddering before warm arms embraced you, Lyle almost as tall as Dean holding you close to him. “How did you know I was down there?”

“I can’t answer that,” he said.

“What year is it?” you asked.

“2089.” You froze, staring up at him. “Well, 2089 where we are right now is.”

“Lyle. It was 2018 when Michael took me. That’s not possible.”

“I can’t answer that either.” Tears welled up in your eyes and he hugged you again. “Sorry.”

“Dean was thirty nine the last time I saw him and it’s seventy one years later? He is dead. Sam is dead. They’re all dead so explain to me how the fucking hell I have a son with Dean!” you shouted. You pushed him away and ran your hands over your face. “Years. Fucking years I’ve sat down there waiting for him to come and get me. Him or Sam or someone. Fucking seventy one years!”

“Y/N,” he said, sounding a bit awkward but he cleared his throat. “I can’t answer everything because I don’t know everything. But I exist and that should tell you something.”

You wiped off your face with his sleeve and looked around, turning back and staring at him.

“I’m at the start of whatever this is and you’re way down the line,” you said. He nodded with a slight smile.

“I don’t understand it but this, where I’m from, this has already happened to you.”

“You’re from the future then,” you said.

“Not exactly,” he said. 

“A different universe?” He looked at you like you were nuts and the air shifted, Lyle freezing. You turned and saw Jack, a smile on his face. “Jack?”

“Hi Y/N,” he said. He stepped over and gave you a big hug, a little bit of ache inside you easing finally. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just on pause.”

“Jack I don’t understand fucking anything. What’s going on?” you asked. He pursed his lips and sighed.

“Well you already figured out Lyle is your and Dean’s son. I didn’t think I could slip that one past you. But it had to be him that came and saved you.”

“Why?”

“Dean’s in heaven. Has been for 69 years.” You broke away from him feeling like you’d had a punch to gut and making you breathless. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that with the whole decades worth of trauma thing happening right now.”

“Did Michael…” you trailed off.

“No. A piece of rebar on a vamp hunt,” he said.

“He what?” you said.

“Yeah got pushed back on it. Sam was okay though. Oh and Dean had a dog for a few months.”

“Dean fucking died from that? That’s what kept him down?” you said. Jack nodded and you looked down, blinking your eyes. “Disregarding what is going on in my head right now about that, why didn’t you heal him? Or Castiel?”

“Well Cas was in heaven helping me rebuild after he sort of died and I brought him back. I kinda am the new God,” he said with a smile.

“I’m proud of that but again, why didn’t you come down here and heal Dean?”

“I’m sort of hands off in that regard,” he said. You were about to go off on him for that when it hit you.

“Jack how long have you known I was alive,” you said. 

“2020 when I took over, I got these extra-”

“You knew I was alive and  left me in a hole in the ground for over seventy years?” you said. 

“Like I said, I’m hands off,” he said. 

“I was your fucking mom! I took care of you! I protected you! I almost died for you more than once and when you find out I’m still alive you say fuck that bitch, she can deal with it on her own? What the fuck is wrong with you!” you shouted. You slapped him in the face, Jack pouting as you sank down to your knees. “I want Dean.”

“Y/N.”

“I want Dean and Sam.”

“Y/N-”

“I want Dean!”

“I can’t-”

“Fuck you! You’re as every bit as evil as that devil father of yours after all,” you said. You forced yourself to your feet, tears prickling in his eyes. “Oh did I hurt your feelings? Tough fucking shit! Do you realize that I have not only been stuck waiting for years but my body got stuck too. I’ve been sitting with broken ribs for seventy years. Every single breath excruciating.”

You yanked up your shirt, deep purple and black skin radiating across most of your abdomen. Jack reached out a hand and you moved back, dropping your shirt.

“I thought you were hands off. I don’t want your-” you said before warmth trickled through you, the pain gone, body feeling so strange at being without it. 

“I don’t have to touch to heal you,” he said quietly. He swallowed and bowed his head. “I tried to let people live their lives without my interference and sometimes they’re messy but I’ve come to realize recently that’s wrong. A bit of help here and there is good. It gives people hope and maybe I should have done things different.”

“My family’s dead and I don’t want to wait around decades more to see them again in heaven. You’re going to-”

“No I won’t. Lyle’s life counts on you doing exactly what you’re supposed to as do your two other children’s. I can’t just put you in heaven. You can’t die right and you have to wait to see Dean until things work themselves out. Lyle’s going to be with you for a while and help get some things settled. It’s already set in motion so go with it,” he said.

“Jack I want Dean. Please,” you said. “Please Jack. Just five minutes.”

“Would you rather have your family back in the near future, alive, or would you rather have your and Dean’s souls torn apart and you never see him again, dead or alive? Rather he over there doesn’t exist? Rather no one exists?”

“I didn’t say that. Of course I would rather have them back alive-“

“Then be patient.”

“Jack. You gotta give me something. Something please.”

“I’ll talk to Lyle, tell him he can loosen up some. But I can’t tell you what to do. You have to follow your gut. Listen to Lyle and it’ll work out,” said Jack. You squeezed your eyes shut, Jack carefully resting a hand on your shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

“I hate that our family was ripped apart. I hate that you didn’t tell the boys I was alive once you knew. I hate that the last time I saw Dean alive we argued. I think what I hate most of all is that you treated us like everyone else. We’re not, Jack. We’re your family. All of us deserved a chance at normal and we didn’t get it.”

“Sam did.”

“How many years did Sam live without us? Without his brother?” you asked. Jack glanced down and you nodded. “You said you became God? Why didn’t you get rid of the monsters altogether Jack. Don’t tell me you don’t have that power.”

“I thought...I thought it was the natural order.”

“Yet you know there are other universes with no monsters at all. You could have taken the monsters away. Shit turn them human for all I care. The boys didn’t have to keep hunting after you took over. You could have been hands off and changed that one fact and saved so many lives, improved so many lives.”

“No. I couldn’t have changed it. Not back then.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked. He pulled his hand away and you found yourself in some clean clothes, Lyle’s jacket folded on top of the car.

“Because when I became God, I learned a lot. It sucks knowing that certain things have to happen and that I had to ignore when Sam prayed to me in that barn because things had to happen this way.”

“But why?”

“Because if I didn’t, if I’d intervened then and there, this universe, all of the ones I’ve been busy rebuilding, the way I’ve been rebuilding heaven...it’d be gone. Destroyed and I wouldn’t be able to put it back. It’s a temporary pain even if it doesn’t seem like it. So please, Y/N, please, listen to Lyle. Work with him. It’ll work out and things can be okay. You can have everything you ever wanted and more. You can have the freaking apple pie life and the no monsters and all of it but please understand you have more shit to go through first and whatever happens, do not let Lyle die.”

“He’s my son. I wouldn’t let that happen to him,” you said. Jack nodded and you grabbed his arm when he turned to leave. “You’ve grown up Jackie.”

“I’m still a baby by God standards,” he said.

“The guys take care of you after I was gone?” you asked. 

“Yeah. I missed you though,” he said. “I accidentally killed Mary and sort of lost my soul for a bit. Things got bad for a while.”

“Do you see Kelly in heaven sometimes? Mary?” you asked. He nodded and you smiled. “Kids can fuck up and your parents will forgive you.”

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Y/N. If I could snap my fingers to fix it all, stop it from ever happening, I would.”

“I’m going to trust that it had to be this way,” you said. “But give me a ballpark figure here. When do I get the guys back?”

“That’s relative. You’re going to end up breaking the space time continuum so it’s hard to answer that correctly.” You stared at him and he shrugged. “Not too long. A few days at most. I promise.”

“Wait is that how we have a twenty year old son?” you asked.

“Yes. The next time you see Dean he’ll be younger than the last you saw him. Just trust your gut and Lyle. Next time I see you I hope things are much better,” he said. You opened your mouth but he disappeared. You shook your head and turned around, Lyle now wearing his jacket, standing closer to the passenger seat door. For a long while you both simply stared, Lyle looking as if he’d just had his own long conversation with Jack. 

“You can call me Y/N if that makes it easier,” you said. He nodded and you took a deep breath, going to the driver’s side. “So. What’s the next move?”

“Jack just said after I got you out we had to go to Lebanon. He didn’t tell me anything more than that,” he said.

“Any idea where we are?” you asked.

“San Antonio,” he said. “So we go North?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Mind taking the first shift driving? I sort of haven’t slept in like seventy years.”

“No that’s fine,” he said. He walked around the front and you made your way to the passenger side, climbing in and sighing. He got behind the wheel and took a deep breath. “You and dad run a construction business.”

“That’s nice,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Dean’d be real good at that kind of thing. He’s really smart.”

“I know. Most guys can’t call up their dad for help on their architecture homework,” he said. 

“You go to college?” you asked, Lyle nodding. “Do you know about...this stuff?”

“I’m still not convinced I’m not insane. I just got home on a friday night. We had dinner and everyone went outside to have a bonfire in the backyard. I went in to use the bathroom and Uncle Jack stopped me before I could get back outside. He said a lot of crazy stuff I didn’t believe but the fact you were in that basement...you and dad are only like forty but you’re obviously too old right now to have had me when that would have made sense and Uncle Jack said space and time is gonna break and-”

“Lyle,” you said, holding up a hand. “Relax. I just want to know, do you know what hunting is?”

“Dad doesn’t go hunting,” he said, narrowing his eyes. You smiled and nodded to yourself. “We don’t even own a gun.”

“I doubt that. But that must mean that something happens to the monsters along the way too.”

“What do you mean monsters? And why were you kidnapped in a basement? And what the fuck is going on? You’re supposed to be my mom that runs the family business and you kick ass in your soccer league in the summer and you can’t cook to save your life and that’s okay cause you’re really good at baking and pies and shit and I just don’t understand who you really are.” His face was flush, eyes fighting back tears. You smiled, reaching over and cupping his cheek.

“You’re a good guy Lyle. We obviously did something right,” you said, wiping away a stray tear that fell. “It’s scary. It’s really scary. I’m not your mom yet but I will be someday. I promise I will tell you everything you don’t know when I catch up to your time. Dean and I will. But we need to go to Lebanon and the faster we can go there and figure out what we have to do, the faster we can get you back home where you belong.”

“But can’t you-”

“This world isn’t safe, Lyle. It is very unsafe for a Winchester especially. Please drive now,” you said. You put on your seatbelt and he closed his eyes. “Please.”

“I was supposed to be having a smore right now,” he said.

“I know. But saving the world is kinda cool,” you said. 

“I don’t want to save the world. I want to go home and not see my mom be beat to shit. I want my dad to go back to teasing me at dinner and not being dead,” he said. 

“If we do this right, you can go back to that really soon. It hasn’t happened for me yet. We can talk all about this when you come back. The night you come back we can talk through it all. But we have to get going. The sooner we go, the sooner it goes back to normal.”

“It’ll never be normal again.”

“Yes it will. I promise.”

“How do you-“

“Because I just had this really bad thing happen to me but someday I’m going to have you and everything I ever wanted with Dean. So it sucks right now but it’ll be better eventually. I know it will. You’re here so I know it’ll be normal.” He nodded and wiped off his face, starting the car up again.

“Y/N. Are you okay after...you know...being down there beat up all that time?”

“Not really,” you said. He took off his jacket and handed it to you. You stared before he rolled his eyes, laying it over your front.

“Sleep. I can drive.”

“Lyle.”

“Y/N. Rest. It’s safe. I got this.”

“You take after your dad.”

“Take after someone else too,” he said. You smiled and nodded, resting your head on your shoulder, closing your eyes. “I’ll wake you up for breakfast.”

“Egg and-”

“Cheese on a biscuit, two breakfast burritos, extra hot sauce and a small hot latte.”

“At least my road trip order didn’t change,” you said, quickly relaxing and falling asleep for the first time in ages.

_______

A/N: Read part 2 here!

[noladyme]

The Wife - Chapter 3

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (8097 words)

“There was an invitation in one of my letters yesterday”, James said, as he entered the sitting room, and sat down across the table from Rosalind for breakfast. “And a good morning to you”, she replied, and took a sip of coffee. James raised a brow at her, before glancing towards her left hand. “Hmm”, he muttered. “Countess Musgrove has invited me to a party”. Rosalind pushed away her plate, suddenly unable to eat another bite. “You can’t tell me you plan on attending, after what happened”, she said. “Yes, I do. I want to convince the Americans to trade with me. And you will be attending as well. The invitation is for two people”. He began casually peeling an egg.

Rosalind nearly dropped her cup in her lap, and the dog sprang to attention at her sudden jolt. It walked over to her, and leaned its head on the armrest. “Are you…? That woman had me kidnapped!”, she growled. “I got to you before they could finish the job. You were perfectly safe”, James said. “I must speak with the countess, and we must make it known that you and I are reconciled”. “And what better way to do that, than putting on a pretty gown, and spending the evening dancing in the home of my would-be torturer”, Rosalind smiled sarcastically . “I don’t believe Musgrove would ever exact the torture herself…”, James began. Rosalind sighed, and shook her head. “Just… stop”. She closed her eyes, and took a moment to collect herself. “When is this party?”. “Tonight”, James said. “Tonight?”, Rosalind exclaimed. “Do you have any idea what these parties are like? The amount of money spent on them? We cannot just turn up looking like…”. “Are you worried you have nothing to wear?”, James half smiled. “Yes!”, she exclaimed, and immediately blushed at her own shallowness. This was not who she was, and she felt ashamed at her own reaction. “I shall find something. I am sorry for reacting in this manner. If you need to be present at this party, I will of course escort you. Please let me know if there is anything you need from me tonight". James narrowed his eyes at her, and seemed to study her face. “Just be a good reason for me to stay in England. Look in love", he said. Her heart stung at his words. “Of course". She replied.

James looked at his pocket watch. “We will promenade in an hour”, he declared. “Pearl will be arriving soon. I should really…”, Rosalind began. “It is Tuesday, and we made an agreement. Brace can receive her". Rosalind nodded, and got on his feet. “I will go and get ready". “Wear the new boots. I will not have my wife's feet getting wet", James called after her, as she left the room.

---

The soft leather wrapped her feet perfectly, as Rosalind put on her new boots. She had searched for her old ones, but they were no where to be found; and in the end, she’d relented, and put on the ones James had bought for her.

James waited at the bottom of the stairs, looking less than pleased at the prospect of taking a stroll with his wife. “It looks like rain", he said, while putting on his gloves. “When doesn’t it?”, Rosalind replied. “Do you want to stay in?”. He gave her a hard look, and put on his hat. “Come on", he ordered, and walked towards the front door. As soon as they were outside, James held out his arm for Rosalind to take; and they began walking in silence.

In spite of the gloomy weather, quite a few people were promenading the streets of Wapping. James was stoic and calm, but Rosalind noticed his eyes examining their surroundings often. The only time he let up his tense demeanor, was when he stopped by a group of dirty looking children, and handed each of them a silver coin. Her heart warmed at the sight.

“Are we in immediate danger of becoming victims of an attack?”, Rosalind asked, when they were once again walking, and James continued discretely looking over his shoulder. “Always", James replied. A pair of ladies Rosalind recognized the faces of, but could not remember the names of; seemed to whisper at each other, as they passed them on the lane. “If nothing else, we will be the victims of gossip”. He gave her a look out the corner of his eye, catching her slight smile. “Which was part of your plan". “I was quite up front with that, when I made the demand of promenades, was I not? We must keep up appearances”, Rosalind said. “This was never about wanting to promenade with you. I do not enjoy leisurely strolling with a man who would rather be anywhere else than with me. I am not that good at pretending, that I can convince myself this is anything but a game”. “You can’t live in dreams”, James said. She looked at him, her breath catching. “Exactly", she whispered. James eyes locked on hers for a long moment, and Rosalind was finding it hard to remember how to breathe. He cleared his throat. “Fresh air never hurt anyone", he said, and led her on down the sidewalk.

They both politely nodded at everyone they met, Rosalind being more successful than James’ in looking sincere with her smiles. “What will I say, if people ask questions tonight?”, she asked. “As little as possible; stay with truths”, James replied. “You thought I was dead. You were glad to see that I wasn’t, and I proposed that we live as man and wife; as we’d planned before I left”. “And why did you leave?”, Rosalind said “I was forced to”. His voice was brusque, and she felt him tense up next to her; pulling her forward at a brisker pace. “You said to stay with truths”, she muttered.

James halted suddenly, and Rosalind stumbled at his abrupt reaction. He caught her by the elbow, and looked at her with hard eyes. “We made an agreement to be honest. I am not lying”, he growled. Rosalind felt her heart beat fiercely. “Tell me what you remember of that night. The night I left”, James continued. His eyes were hard an unforgiving. “Please, James; can we just continue? Or go home”, Rosalind whispered. “No. Tell me!”, he demanded.

Rosalind began walking again, forcing James to follow. She refused to let him hold her back, and he let go of her elbow; once again only walking arm in arm with her. “We had dinner in private after the reception. When we decided to retire, I went ahead of you to your… our bedroom. You went to see your father, to say goodnight”. She had to blink away a tear. “I waited for you, but you never came. After an hour, I went down to the sitting room, where your father told me you… you had decided to leave for Africa”. James muttered something intelligible under his breath. “I decided to leave…”, he growled. “My father was many things, but an honest man, he was not”. “Then what happened?”, Rosalind asked quietly. He looked out the corner of his eye at her, before looking around him again. “Not here”, he muttered. “Let’s go home”. Rosalind let out an exasperated sigh, and let James lead her back to Chamber House.

---

Once home, James immediately took his leave for things he had to do by the docks, as he’d grunted; leaving Rosalind frustrated from a lack of an explanation to her question. She desperately needed to know why she’d been robbed of her husband; why – now that he was back – he would only pretend for their union to be a happy one, and not love her as she knew he had once upon a time.

Pearl had arrived while they were away, and was already busy washing the windows. In spite of her rugged appearance when Rosalind had met the young woman, she seemed very thorough in her work; and the light that could finally shine through the formerly dirty windows, made the rooms seem less dreary – even if the dirt covering almost every surface was more obvious now. Brace had found one of the old maids dresses, from when the elder Delaney had still allowed any other servant than Brace to roam the house. Pearl was of slighter build than the dress allowed for, but she’d tied a belt around her waist, to keep it from sagging too much; and she looked clean and happy to be at work.

After lunch – which Rosalind decided to take with Brace and Pearl in the kitchen - Rosalind began preparations for the evening. With no time to take a full bath, she settled for washing thoroughly with a sponge. None of her gowns would be as glamorous as any of the ones worn by the ladies at the party – this she was sure of – but she was determined to not bring shame on her husband. Once she’d looked at every gown twice, it was almost a stroke of luck, when she saw a glimpse of red velvet at the very bottom of one of her cases. She pulled out the dress she’d worn the night she’d met James, and knew that this was the right choice. Pearl peeked in to the room, as she was about to do up her hair; and offered a hand. It appeared that the maid had talents beyond cleaning windows, as Rosalind soon had a fashionable style on her head; with ribbons, and a mother of pearl hair comb. The maid then rouged her lips, and urged her to tighten her stay. “Mustn’t be afraid to show what you’ve got, ma’am”, she said, as Rosalind looked down at her now very prominent chest. “I’ll go wash the stairs now”, the maid grinned, and left the room.

As the clock stroke 6pm, Rosalind walked down the stairs. James was waiting in the sitting room, and looked up, when she entered. Pearl had kept herself busy, it seemed, because the room looked almost presentable enough to receive guests. When their eyes met, Rosalind saw him again; just for a second. The young man who she’d seen across the room the night her life changed. The man she’d fallen in love with. A hint of a smile graced his face, before he once again fell in to moroseness.

“Sit”, he said. Rosalind sat on the sofa, and James went to stand by the fireplace. “For the sake of our partnership, I will tell you what happened the night I – as you say – left you”. “Our wedding night”, she said. It pained her that he could not even call it that. “Hmm”, James muttered. “Once you know, you can make a final decision whether you want to continue our current arrangement, or leave. If you decide to leave, I will let you do so. I will find you safe passage to Paris, and you can… start over”. Rosalind felt her heart drop. James was expecting her to betray him, by going back on their deal. In all fairness, she had betrayed him once, but she had thought he was dead. “Alright”, she whispered.

James picked up a half empty glass of brandy, and downed it. “Shortly before we met, my father sent a ship to trade wares in the Dominican Islands. He had rented the ship, as his financial situation at the time was not such that he could buy one. The ship was taken by pirates before it could reach Port Au Prince; and his investment was for naught”. James sat down across from her. “The ship was owned by Sir Stuart Strange; the leader of the East India Company. As my father could not pay him back for the stolen ship – and he’d not had his investment insured – Strange demanded another kind of payment. He wanted Nootka Sound”. “But your father didn’t give it to him. It’s still yours”, Rosalind said.

James nodded. “He would not hand over the treaty, because Nootka is home to my mother’s tribe”. “Anna?”, Rosalind said confusedly. “Your father said she was from Portugal". “He also told you I left voluntarily”. James gave her a sharp look. A jolt of pain went through Rosalind’s heart, and she could not answer. “My mother’s name was Salish. She was an Indian, who was sold along with the land, by the chieftain, to my father”. “I was not aware", Rosalind said quietly. “I am sorry that you were lied to for so many years… But, what happened to make you leave?”.

James looked into the fire. “When my father would not give him the deed to Nootka Sound, Strange demanded another kind of payment. My service on one of his ships, sailing for Africa. He was sure my father would never send his son away in this manner”. “But he was wrong”, Rosalind said. “Yes. Whatever obligation he felt towards my dead mother, from having her committed to Bedlam, made him unable to part with the land”. James clenched his jaw. “He informed me of his dealings with Strange the night of our wedding, after you retired. He explained to me my true origins, and how he could not give up Nootka Sound. As it was, neither could I. I hardly knew my mother, but that piece of land was a connection to her, I was not willing to give up”. Rosalind swallowed hard, and fisted her hands. “So, you gave me up instead”. “Because you would never want me, if you knew who I truly was”, James said.

Rosalind got on her feet, and stepped over to James. With all her strength, she slapped him across the face; leaving him looking bewildered. “You stupid man!”, she hissed. “Do you really think so little of me, that I would love you less, because your mother was not who I thought she was? I see a human for who they are, not where they come from!”. “I did not mean to insult you…”, James muttered, seemingly prepared for another strike; and looking strangely like he felt he might deserve it. “Is that what kept us apart? Is that truly why you left me?”. James sighed deeply. “My father would never have given up on Nootka, and had I not gone away, he would have ended up in debtor’s prison. This house, everything in it, every shilling he owned; would have been taken away”. He looked meaningfully into her eyes. “We would have been desolated”. She kneeled in front of him, and took his hand in hers. “I would have lived in a gutter, as long as you were with me”. James raised his other hand timidly, and brushed his fingertips against her cheek. He gave her a bemused look. “He took you away for ten years…”, she breathed, and brushed her lips against his palm. James eyes flickered. “No… Three years”, he muttered. Rosalind let out a gasp. “But… why didn’t you come back to me, then?”. James face darkened again, and he pulled back his hands. “Stand up. You will ruin your gown”, he said with a cold voice. “Tell me, James!”, Rosalind demanded.

James got up, and with a grasp of her upper arm, he pulled her back to her feet. “Strange’s ship was a slave ship”, he growled; his eyes suddenly on fire. “He made me do things… Things I cannot tell you. In the end I did them out of sheer pleasure; forgetting that my victims were humans. Forgetting that I was human… So, you see, I did die. The man you married was no longer; in fact, he never existed. I was always broken; unaware of my true origins, and with an insane mother. There was darkness in me long before we met. I could not sully you with that; so, I made myself forget you, and everything I felt for you”. “It was easier to break my heart…”, Rosalind whispered. “Hmm. Better you were a widow, than have a devil for a husband”, James said. “Now, will I need to make arrangements for your departure for Paris?”.

There he stood, her broken devil of a husband; who’s heart was capable of more love than he knew, and who had deserved so much more than the hand he had been dealt. He looked hard and dangerous, and yet she had never seen him more fragile. She could not abandon him. He was not the monster he thought, and for the time being – to become free, and find his way to his mother’s home – he needed her.

Rosalind took a deep breath. “Is the carriage ready? We will be late…”. James looked at her in wonder, as she went into the hallway, and put on her cloak for them to leave.

---

They did not speak on the drive to Musgrove Manor. James helped her out of the carriage, stepping in front of the groomsman, before he had a chance to so himself. As they walked towards the line of guests in front of the large building, James inclined his head to whisper to her. “Whatever anger you might have towards me will have to be hidden from here on. We are walking in to a lion’s den, and our best chance of getting out whole, is by seeming happy with each other”. “Yes, of course”, Rosalind replied. “But seeing as you find it difficult to smile in my company, you might need to make an effort to find other ways to show your affection”. “Why do you think I would not let the groomsman help you out of the carriage?”, he said. Rosalind had known better than to think it had been anything but an act on James part, to ward of another man touching her. “You should dance if someone invites you to. It will give me a chance to seem jealous”.

They went up the stairs, and handed their outerwear to the butler. James whispered to the announcer; who turned towards the crowd of partygoers in the ball-room. “Mr. James Keziah Delaney, and Mrs. Rosalind Delaney”, he called out, and every person in the room turned to look at them. Rosalind suddenly felt very small, and was happy to have her arm hooked through James’, who strode forwards with cold confidence. “You look lovely. No need to fret”, he muttered, and her cheeks flushed red.

Well dressed ladies and gentlemen whispered at each other as they passed them. “… ten years! And she welcomes him back with open arms…”. “… rather wealthy from his travel. Of course, she would…”. Rosalind held on tighter to James’ arm, and he let her; resting a hand on the one she had on his arm.

They each took a glass of champagne, and Rosalind took a large sip of hers. She noticed Geary in the crowd, and his eyes widened when he saw her. Anger ghosted his face, before he went back to his conversation with his acquaintance. “Him, I do not want you dancing with", James said quietly. “He does not deserve the pleasure”. “How do you know it would be a pleasure?”, Rosalind asked. “We’ve never danced. Not even at our wedding reception”. James didn’t respond, but instead led them on through the crowd. She nodded and smiled demurely at everyone who greeted them. “Make connections; seem as if neither of us have any plans to depart London for anything more than a picnic”, he said. “Make arrangements for tea-parties and dinner. Whatever you have to do”.

After a while of silently observing the dancing couples, and smiling as if she’d never been happier to be anywhere than where she was now, James seemed to notice someone across the room. When Rosalind looked in the direction he was, she noticed a slight man with eyeglasses looking at them meaningfully. “Do not wander off…“, James muttered, and walked towards the man; with his body language making it clear Rosalind was not to follow. Once he disappeared from view, she felt instantly unsafe.

Finding herself the object of whispers and ogling, she made her way into a smaller adjoining room, where fewer people were gathered around a man dressed as a soothsayer. A large table was set up with delicacies, and Rosalind picked up a purple, round fruit. She examined the strange, thin but slightly hard shell, having never seen anything like it before.

“A passion fruit", a voice said from next to her. She turned and found herself face to face with a smiling man, holding a skin bag, with a small pipe of metal coming from it. “So named from the passion flower, from which it comes. The flower in turn is named so, as people find it resembles the crucifixion of Christ. I find the taste of it reminds me of other types of passions…”. He reached out his hand to her, with a confident smirk. “George Cholmondeley. And you are?”

“Married", James voice sounded from behind Rosalind. Cholmondeley looked between them. “To… oh, I see". James took the fruit from her, then grabbed the claw shaped knife from his inner pocket, and carved the fruit in half – making the other man swallow hard and laugh nervously. All around them people were watching. Even the would-be soothsayer had stopped speaking. The fruit had a yellow inside with seeds. James put one half to his lips, and devoured the content, before handing the other half to Rosalind with a grunt. He was making a statement to everyone in the room. Rosalind accepted the fruit, and the small spoon he then gave her, and scooped out some fruit to eat. Letting the fruit rest on her tongue to savor the taste for a moment, she then swallowed with a smile.

Cholmondeley cleared his throat. “Perhaps Mrs. Delaney would enjoy a taste of my fine gasses with her exotic fruit". He held up his skin, and smiled. “No", James said. “She doesn’t want any of what you’re offering". “I can speak for myself, James", Rosalind said. Her husband gave her a dissatisfied glare. “And you have a lovely voice to do so", Cholmondeley said. “Allow me to extend my deepest regrets for my crude introduction”. “It is quite alright, sir. You had no way of knowing how jealous my husband is", Rosalind said. “I found your remarks quite innocent". “There is nothing innocent about him", James growled below his breath.

Rosalind decided to ignore his words. “Are you a horticulturist, Mr. Cholmondeley?”. “Doctor Cholmondeley. And, no; merely a humble chemist and physician", he replied. He lifted the skin slightly. “Trying to bring smiles on the faces of the upper class". “Well, we are middle class, Mr. Cholmondeley. Excuse us…”, James said, and took Rosalind’s arm; leading her away from the chemist.

“Him we do not need to impress”, James said. “Who am I allowed to speak or dance with? You are not making this easy, James”, Rosalind retorted. He raised his brows at her. “You want to go dance with Mr. Geary, you are free to do so. I said I did not want you to; but I will not make your decisions for you”. He began leading them towards where Geary was standing, but Rosalind tugged at his arm. “No, James; please… That’s not what I meant”, she pleaded. Geary looked in their direction with an expression of disgust. “No, no. You go ahead, dear wife”, James said, and dragged her with him. Rosalind tried to halt him, by putting her heels in; but James put his arm around her waist, and nearly picked her up from the ground, to force her forwards. Around them the party goers were beginning to notice them. “You are taking this act of jealousy too far. People are looking…”, she whispered. “Let them fucking look!”, James growled. “Let them look, while the man who tried to steal my fortune and my wife, lead her on the floor in a waltz!”.

“Did someone say waltz?”. James turned his head, looking as if he was ready to attack the interrupting person; quickly calming his demeanor, when he realized he was facing their hostess. “Countess Musgrove”, he said, his voice even more gravely than usual. “Mr. and Mrs. Delaney”, the countess smiled. “It seems I found the way to get you to attend one of my parties, my dear. All I had to do was invite your husband! Are you worried someone might steal him from you?”. Rosalind tried to keep a calm expression after James strange reaction just seconds before. “Not at all, my lady”, she said. “I am merely here to avoid him ingesting any tea”. A slight expression of guilt ghosted Musgrove’s face. “A slight misunderstanding, I assure you… But I am glad you’re here tonight”, she said. “Might you allow me to borrow your husband?”. “I do not dance", James said. “Perhaps a promenade around the room. I’d like to show off my outrageous guest!”, Musgrove smiled.

Rosalind looked at James, who gave a slight stoic nod. “Of course. Just give him back to me within the decade. I don’t believe I could take another ten years”. James looked at her with unreadable eyes, before the countess linked her arm through his, and dragged him away; and Rosalind was once again left to herself.

She must have looked like a lost lamb, ripe for the taking, because before long, a gentleman came up to her, and asked her to dance. Rosalind pretended to be delighted to, and before long they were jumping and skipping in a quadrille. After the dance, the man led her over to have a glass of champagne, and they were soon in conversation with his group of acquaintances; all of them upper class ladies and gentlemen. Another gentleman invited her on the floor for La Boulangere, and she was soon forgetting her bad mood, and enjoying herself immensely. Then it was the Danse Ecossoise, with a third gentleman, and finally – after drinks and laughing with her new friends – she accepted a waltz with the first gentleman who she’d danced with.

At the final twirl, Rosalind was finding herself rosy cheeked, and retired to the ladies’ room to powder her nose. When she opened the door to go back to the ballroom, she stood face to face with Mr. Geary. “Rosalind”, he said. “Mrs. Delaney”, she replied shortly. “Rosalind!”, Geary repeated, and stood in front of her, so she could not pass. Rosalind froze in place. “You came here, with him…”. “He is my husband, Mr. Geary”. “He is an animal. Whatever you let him do to you is bestiality”, Geary growled. “In front of you stands a good honest man, who – in spite of you being ruined by that thing you call your husband – is offering you a chance at redemption”. Rosalind tore her arm from him. “You think very highly of yourself”, she said, pushed past him and began to walk away.

Geary followed, and grabbed a hold of her arm. “You shame yourself by dancing with every wanton man here; pretending at the same time to be a good wife”, he snarled. “We both know better. When Delaney is gone, you will come running to me; to plead of me to wash you clean again”. “James isn’t going anywhere”, Rosalind rasped. “We are happy”. “Then I shall kill him”.

Geary’s hold on her arm grew tighter, and Rosalind wanted desperately to call out for help; yet knew not what the result would be. She had no real friends at this event; and from his expression, Geary was likely to drag her through the crowd, and force her into a carriage away from the manor. “Let me go…”, she said below her breath. “No, Rosalind. I will have you…”, Geary hissed. They struggled for a moment. Rosalind tried to pry his fingers from her arm, and Geary pushed her against the wall, leaning in to smell her hair. “You will be mine; I know this is right…”. Rosalind looked desperately at her surroundings, and saw a candlestick with a lit candle. As Geary grabbed her jaw with his free hand, he pressed his lips to hers; violently kissing her. She grabbed the candlestick, and struck at his head.

Geary cried out in pain. His collar was singed, and blood ran from his eyebrow, down his cheekbone. Rosalind could finally tear herself from the man, and sped away; hiding herself in the crowds of rambunctious guests. Champagne had been flowing for hours, and drunkenness had taken over most people; on top of whatever gas Mr. Cholmondeley had been supplying them with. The chemist himself was laughing hysterically with a voluptuous woman seated on his lap. If ever the devil himself had thrown a party, this was surely it. Rosalind searched desperately for James, and was almost in tears, when she finally found him standing in the middle of a crowd of people dancing. Sobbingly, she ignored all propriety, and all coldness James had shown her in the past, and threw her arms around him.

“James”, she breathed into the crook of his neck. Her husband stood frozen in place; looking like a scared animal. Whatever was going through his mind, at the moment he was in no state to be her protector. “What is wrong?”. “Too many voices… Ghosts…”, he said.

His eyes were wild. Geary appeared next to them, and James saw the state of his jacket and his bloodied face. Geary looked at Rosalind with a mix of rage and triumph in his eyes, and James body tensed up even more. He began muttering words she did not understand, while his hand traveled towards his knife. In seconds, this party could turn in to a blood bath. Rosalind placed her hands on either side of James' head, forcing him to face her. “No… Look at me”, she said. James grunted nonsensically. “James; look at me”. His eyes found hers, and he let out a deep breath. “Rose…”, he breathed. “I’m here, my love”, she smiled. “Let’s go home…”. James nodded, and linking her arm through his, she led him towards the exit.

Their carriage was brought to them, and she got in; and took James hand when he entered himself. He squeezed her hand for a moment, before taking the reins; and driving away from Musgrove Manor.

---

They were quiet the whole drive. James body relaxed next to her, and he allowed her to press against him for warmth. Once back at Chamber House, Rosalind went inside, while James went to stable the horse and carriage. Brace had retired, leaving the house silent, save for the whimpers from the draft going through the walls and windows.

Rosalind went to her bedroom, and took the comb and pins out of her hair. She sat for a long time, studying herself in the mirror, and brushing her hair. The events of the evening had taken a toll on her nerves, and her hands were shaking so much, that when – suddenly – James stood in the doorway, she dropped the hairbrush onto the floor in startlement. “Do I frighten you?”, he asked. “No… It’s just been a trying night. For both of us, I suspect”. “Hmm”, James grunted. “He touched you…”. “I stopped him”, Rosalind said. “He didn’t have the chance to…”. She couldn’t finish the sentence, and simply cleared her throat, to push back tears. “Did you finish your business?”. “Hmm", James muttered with a nod. “The evening was at least in parts a success". "Then why were you so distraught when I found you?”, Rosalind asked. He shook his head in reply. “I just want to help you. I want to understand… But if you don’t want to tell me, that is alright. I will not make you speak of something that will hurt you to”.

She turned to empty her purse on the vanity, and James walked up behind her; picking up the hairbrush, and putting it down in front of her.

“You were right to take me away from there. I was not well, and you put yourself aside to care for me”, he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “The best thing I ever did, was marry you. It was also my greatest sin. I didn’t deserve you, and you deserved much better than me”. He met her eyes in the mirror. “You still do”.

“Why are you saying this? You don’t have to make excuses. I’ve accepted that you don’t… That we’re not… that". Her words came out in a broken voice. James gently put his hand on her shoulder, and ran his fingertips up her neck and cheek. Rosalind leaned in to his touch. “You’ve accepted it too easily”, he breathed, before removing his hand, and walking back towards the door. He halted in the doorway, and looked back at her. “I did fuck other women. Many women… And each one of their faces turned in to yours as they were laying under me”. A rush of heat went through Rosalind’s body, and she drew in a short breath; but before she could speak, James had walked away, and up the stairs to the attic.

Rosalind sat frozen in place, with the feeling of James fingers still lingering on her skin. His words had simultaneously torn out heart and made it warm. She hated the thought of her husband with another woman; letting them touch him and hold him, as she’d for so many years yearned to do. And he’d held them, touched them and kissed them. But then he’d seen her in their faces, had imagined it was her he spent those moments with.

She shed her clothes, put on her nightgown, and crawled in to bed. Laying back, she could not find rest. James words rang through her head. I made myself forget you… But he hadn’t forgotten; he’d kept thinking of her, and had wanted her. Anger took the place of sadness, and Rosalind sat up in bed with determination. Every time they had a conversation that brought them close to any kind of real emotion, James walked away, deeming it over. Not this time.

Rosalind climbed out of bed, and put a shawl around her shoulders, before leaving the room, and heading towards the stairs to the attic. A draft from one of the windows made her shiver, but it did not deter her from her mission. She had not traipsed the stairs to the attic in years, and not having been there many times, it still surprised her how it felt like walking in to a completely different world. The sounds were different up there; the howling of the wind was more like whispers. She opened the door into the large room, and was struck by the smell of burning wood in the fireplace, mixed with James’ unmistakable scent. It was far from the smell of old man and spilled alcohol; she’d sensed there before.

Walking towards the far wall, she saw the moon far shining through the large round window, where James was seated, looking down at the river. His shirt was untucked, and his feet bare. “You should leave. This room is no place for you”, he said, without looking at her. “We’re not finished”, Rosalind declared. James looked at her, but when he saw her state of undress, his eyes hit the floor. “You cannot say something like that, and then just walk away… For all your words about me deserving better, you keep treating me like an object to throw your affection at, whenever you feel like it; but never enough to make anyone but yourself feel better. I am always left wanting, whereas you get to do and say whatever you want”.

James turned his body, and got down from the window. His eyes were hard, and he was clearly trying to make her cower, and give in. “I told you…”, he began. “No, James!”, Rosalind said. “It is my turn to speak, and you will listen. You owe me that!”. His eyes flickered, and he let out a huff in response. “You saw me in the faces of others. I tried that with the man I let have me, and it didn’t work. It felt wrong, and I felt like I’d betrayed you. I only ever wanted you, and I decided to live out my life in solitude after that; because I would never be able to be in your arms again. Then it turns out you were alive, and could have come back… But you didn’t. You manifested me in front of you, in other women; in stead of coming back and just… having me. I was always here – heartbroken and in perpetual mourning – when I could have been happy. We could have been happy”. “I cannot make you happy”, James said. Rosalind shook her head, and took a few steps forward; tugging her shawl closer around her. “No, you cannot… Not how things are now”. She took a deep breath, and braced herself. “I cannot play pretend anymore, not now I know how you truly feel; because you do feel something for me, I know it. I want my husband, with everything that entitles. I will not be a subject for your imagination, someone you think of, but will not touch. If you want me, then have me – truly have me – while you are still here… Or let me go this very moment, and never think of me again”.

They stood for what felt like forever, just looking at each other. James expression was unreadable, and when he suddenly walked forwards, Rosalind almost jumped at his movement. Once stood in front of her, James looked at her with hard eyes. “I want my wife". “Then have her", she replied in almost a whisper.

It was as if there was a rift through an invisible veil, and James grabbed her head; pulling her in for a deep wanton kiss. His lips attack on hers was brutal, and his hand traveled down to her waist, to pull her closer to him. His beard was scratching against her skin, as his lips moved down to her neck, and James suckled at her pulse point. Rosalind let out a soft gasp, and James’ pulled back, is if to see if he’d hurt her. She smiled softly, and let her shawl fall to the floor. Loosening the bow on her nightgown, she relaxed her shoulders, and let the thing fall down her body, and pool at her feet. She was now standing naked in front of her husband, for the first time.

James pulled off his shirt, and she looked on his tattooed torso, as his muscles moved under his skin. It was just as it in her dreams. He then opened the button of his trousers, and without any embarrassment pulled them down to reveal his naked lower half. Rosalind felt her heart pounding so hard, she was convinced James could see it through her chest. “You can still go”, he said, when he saw her expression. “But you will have to do so now; because if you stay much longer, I will not be able to stop myself”.

Rosalind looked at her husband’s strong and dangerous body; and felt nothing but safety and want. She reached out a hand, and James took it; pulling it around his neck. He hooked his arm under her knee, and lifted her up to straddle his waist. His hardness was pressed between them, as he carried her towards the fireplace, where he set her down more softly than she’d known him capable of.

She stroked his cheek, and his eyes flickered for a moment. Kneeling in front of where she sat, he reached for something laying near them on the floor. He held out a small knife. “I am not a gentle man… You may have to stop me”, he said, and held out the hilt towards her. Rosalind swallowed hard, and looked at the blade for a moment, before pushing his hand away. “You won’t hurt me”, she assured him. James’ hand shook, and when he wouldn’t put down the knife, Rosalind took it from him, and laid it on the floor; before pushing it out of reach. With a hand behind his neck, she pulled him closer, and kissed him gently. She went to straddle his lap; while James put an arm around her back.

When she tried to lower herself to let James enter her, he held her in place. “No… not yet”, he said. Rosalind looked at him confusedly, while James lowered her onto her back; and pressed his lips to hers. Without putting his full weight on her, he laid between her legs, and stroked her side; while his tongue probed for entrance to her mouth. Rosalind opened her lips, and met it with her own. Every movement of their lips sent pleasurable signals to her core.

James stroked his hand across her belly, before moving it down. He lingered on her pubic mound, stroking her curls with his fingers. Rosalind gasped into his mouth, as his fingers went further down, and James looked deep into her eyes, while tracing her lower lips. She was lost in his blue orbs, and breathed raggedly, when she felt James find the spot where her labia met at the top. There, he made circling movements, which made intense heat – starting from the bottom of her feet – travel up her legs.

Unable to speak a word, Rosalind instead communicated her pleasure by grabbing on to James’ shoulders, and digging her nails into his skin. James hand quickened its pace, and Rosalind felt something she could not describe, approaching. It had not been like this when she’d laid with the other man. There had been bodily pleasure, yes; but this intense connection, and knowledge of her body, in spite of never having lain with her before, overwhelmed her. And yet, she was not surprised. Of course, James knew her body, she was made for him, and he for her.

Then came a buildup from inside. James stroked at her harder, and Rosalind let out whimpers, that turned in to a guttural moan; when she felt one of his fingers entering her. Looking down, she saw that James’ thumb was now stroking at her, while his middle finger was pleasuring her insides. Something in her snapped, and Rosalind cried out, as she felt her tunnel spasm around her husband’s finger. It was as if there was an intense white light blinding her, and she almost sobbed from the sensation. James said something she didn’t understand, before withdrawing his finger, and instantly replacing it with his hard member. He pushed in to her as she was still climaxing; only intensifying the sensation. “Rose…”, he whispered into her ear, as he began thrusting.

Once her shudders of pleasure had calmed, Rosalind tilted her hips to allow for deeper penetration, and James took a hold of her thigh. His hips pushed hard against her, and there truly was no gentleness to his movements; but she only wanted more. Rosalind winced in both pain and pleasure, when she felt James dig his fingers into her breast. His other hand grabbed her hair, and pulled her head to the side, so he could attach her neck with hard kisses. His teeth grazed her skin, deep enough to surely leave marks. Throwing her arms around his neck, Rosalind pulled James as close as she could get him, wanting his skin against hers. It was as if she could feel his heart beating just inches from hers, and she smiled. This was right, and whatever would happen in the morning, they would have this moment.

One of James hands forced her knee up and to the side, spreading her even more for him. He dug his fingers into her skin, and she could tell he was trying to hold back from how hard he wanted to take her. “More…”, Rosalind goaded him. “Please. It’s alright”. James gave a guttural moan, and his hand flew to her neck, where he was about to squeeze her jugular; before he decided to place it on her shoulder instead, pressing her hard down against the floor. Soreness was building in Rosalind’s back, but she did not want James to stop, so held her tongue.

The first signs of another climax showed themselves, with the warm buildup from her core beginning to spread out through her legs. Her husband was breathing raggedly, and groaned loudly when he could feel that she had an orgasm approaching. Quickening his pace, James held her down even harder, making it impossible for her to move, even if she’d wanted to. When she could no longer hold it back, she let out a load moan, and shook underneath him. James lifted his head, and looked deep into her eyes, before kissing her hard. He panted, burying his face in the crook of her neck; and thrusted hard a few more times. Then he pulled himself out of her, and spilled himself onto her belly with a loud groan.

James sat up, and looked down at her. “Yes… yes”, he said, as if answering a question, he’d asked himself internally. He moved a lock of hair out of her face. “Hmm”. Looking down at her breast, she saw marks from where James had held on to her, and his juices on her stomach; but felt no sense of disgust at it – merely a hint of regret. Of course, James would not want to have a child with her, as he was to leave England anyway.

As Rosalind sat up, James got on his feet, and went to get a cloth napkin from his desk. He quickly wiped off his member, before remembering his equally soiled wife, and found a handkerchief in the pocket of his trousers on the floor. Rosalind smiled softly, and reached for it; but was surprised when James got on his knees again, and wiped her off himself. It was intimate, but not lustful action. James treated it as an obvious thing to do.

His eyes explored her body, and every time they moved to a new spot, it felt like a caress. There was only want and appreciation in them. “Hmm”, he muttered, and a smile ghosted his face. Rosalind blushed, and James reached out a hand to let his fingertips slide down her torso, between her breasts, and down to her belly. “Softer than in your dreams”, he said approvingly. Rosalind’s lips parted, and her eyes widened at his words. “You were there…”, she breathed. “Whenever you let me in…”, he admitted. “I suppose we are both mad, if we believe that”, she smiled. “Hmm”, James nodded. “But being mad has brought me comfort these past ten years”.

As if remembering himself, he shook his head. “You should go to bed. You made friends tonight, and will probably have to receive them for tea in the morning”, he said matter-of-factly. He got on his feet, and Rosalind followed. “Where do you sleep?”, she asked. “Here”, he replied. “In front of the fireplace?”. “No, I have a bed”. James gestured towards the far corner, where a bed had been set up. It was unmade; meaning James had told Pearl to stay out of the attic. Rosalind didn’t think James was bothered by an unmade bed in a room he was the only one to use. She took her nightgown, as he picked it up, and held it out to her. “May I stay here with you?”. He looked at her incredulously. “Why?”. “Because I would like to sleep next to my husband”. He looked at her for a moment longer. “Hmm”, he muttered, and nodded slightly. “But put that on. It can get cold up here”.

Not getting dressed himself, he blew out the candle on his desk, and walked towards the bed. Rosalind slipped her nightgown over her head, and silently followed him. He pushed down the covers, and let her climb under them. She laid down, and watched as he sat down on the edge of the bed – made a movement of his hand from his chest to his forehead, and muttered something – and laid down next to her. He seemed surprised as Rosalind nestled into the crook of his arm; but none the less folded it around her, letting her relish in his warmth.

Before long, her eyes closed, and sleep took her over.

---

[bigsnzstanacct]

Kn/ives Out - R/ansom Fic

Inspired by these posts, although I went a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle overboard with it, as is my wont. This may or may not be the first of a five-or-six part series, a sort of “Five Times Ransom Pissed Off Everybody By Sneezing, and One Time He Didn’t.” Or it might just be the one little story. You know the drill, over-the-top sneezing ahoy lmao.

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    “Do we have to talk politics?” Joni asked, her fingers tensed, her eyes rolling as she walked rather briskly to the drink cart. “It’s not that I’m not willing it’s just it’s so contentious and I’m a little concerned about that kind of energy—”

“No, no, no Joni,”—Richard cutting in now, his words stretching longer in the way all of him seemed to extend and elongate when he was drunk, as though he forgot Linda and Harlan were watching and expecting—”No, Joni, you don’t get to throw stones and then hide your hand, if you say something about our President, I’m gonna say something back.”

“Now, now, Richard,”—The aforementioned Harlan—”I think we can all agree the President—”

“Our President, Harlan, our President, I’m not saying I like him but I’m saying he’s our—”

“N-now… now come on Richard”—Walt, briefly, before being steamrolled by—

“Richard, I think I’d like a change of subject now—” Linda, ordinarily authoritative enough to end the line of inquiry altogether, but apparently not tonight.

“Well I wouldn’t, Linda. I wouldn’t like a change of subject, and for that matter...” (Richard, elongated as though he forgot Linda and Harlan…)

“How boring,” Ransom said in an aside. Marta happened to be walking by, picking up Richard’s emptied drink, and Joni’s recently downed one. It wasn’t actually her job to provide maid service for these people but they seemed to expect it and Harlan encouraged it and they really were so generous.

So it was to Marta that Ransom delivered his aside, though it wasn’t really to her—it might as well have been to the drink cart, or the grandfather clock, or the nonexistent camera over his shoulder. Ransom was the sort of man who walked around as though there could always be a camera over his shoulder. In fairness, Ransom was also the sort of man cameras commonly followed around. He’d very nearly committed to at least two reality tv shows, mostly to annoy his family. He’d gotten his current sports car upon backing out of a reality tv show. It was too bad he was too old to start a YouTube channel. He was still waiting to see what he could get out of revealing Jacob’s channel to the family, whether it would be better to threaten Jacob with its reveal to his parents, his parents with its reveal to to the family, or perhaps the family as a whole with a leak to… whatever random book-related website might find that gossip interesting. Maybe just Reddit.

Marta was just about to respond, to perhaps engage Ransom in conversation. She had it on good authority--Harlan’s--that she could be good company to a Thrombey or a Drysdale. Everyone seemed rather wary of Ransom, but aside from his aversion to the dogs, Marta had no reason to think ill of him, and so tried to assume the best of him. And---she could admit somewhat blushingly---he certainly wasn’t unattractive. She could see how, in her younger, sillier days how she might nurse a bit of crush on him, the wealthy prince charming and the maid---although she was not a maid, no matter how they treated her, she was a well-trained professional, dammit---

But before she could speak, Ransom’s face suddenly underwent some sort squishing, snorting motion. His long nose scrunched up short as he took in a sharp sniff, nearly a snort. His eyes closed for a moment, and a smile played on his lips. “This’ll be fuhh-hun,” he said in half a whisper, airy breathing infusing and interrupting his murmur.

Marta tilted her head to the side, curious what Ransom could be referring to, until she saw his nose, which was twitching: once, then twice. A heavy sniff, then another, then two in a row, then a long one, for all the world like fanning a flame (a flame, as she would come to realize, to light a fuse, to burn down to an explosion...)

It was around this moment that Ransom abruptly stood, and she could not help but notice how broad his shoulders were, as his eyes fluttered, and his chest began to swell. His nose was starting to pinken around the nostrils, the flaring and scrunching continuing, his arms falling slack. The creak of his chair as he stood brought everyone’s attention towards him, and as they noticed the bizarre ritual Ransom was performing or enduring.

“Oh, god, Ransom, not this again…” (Linda, eyes rolling)

“Ransom, Ransom buddy, Ransom please...” (Richard, hands waving)

“Is he going to do that screaming thing again, I’m leaving the room---” (Joni, hands raising towards her ears)

“Leaving the room won’t do her much good.” (Harlan, with a bit of a snicker in his voice)

Ransom was starting to vocalize now, little “hehhhH… hEHHHhh…” sounds that sounded as though they were either being dragged out of him or as though he was dragging them out himself, perhaps both. His head was tilting back, that chest looking larger than ever as it stretched and air flowed in and his long nose scrunched and his mouth hung open in a tall O and his back arched and hands went over ears and then one last voiceless gasp in… “huuuUUHH!”

“HHHHEEYYY-SSHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” 

Ransom sprang forward, giving vent to what was plainly a titanic sneeze to begin with, let alone his leaning into it, relishing it, and then on top of that, as the sneeze went on it seemed to turn into a pure, guttural yell, his voice roughening in an obviously voluntary way. It sounded as though the sort of scream one might hear on a hardcore metal record was riding the rails of an involuntary, massive rush of air, and Marta couldn’t help but frown as a visible spray was ejected from Ransom’s face along with the helter skelter noise, but she could hardly notice the spray since, standing closest to the blast, her ears were assaulted worst with Ransom’s screaming sneeze or sneeze-flavored scream, whatever it was, and she dearly wished she’d followed the family’s example and plugged her ears.

The sneeze tapered off at last, and Ransom--who’d doubled over with the blast--bounced back up, face reddened from exertion, practically beaming. Or at least he would have been beaming, were his nose not already scrunching…

“Whew! Big wuhh-hunn…” He was presumably celebrating his sneeze, congratulating himself on a “big one” although the urge had not yet left him entirely, and it seemed another sneeze was one its way. Joni was just walking back into the room as he went into his sniffing routine again.

“Jesus! Ransom you’re gonna give your grandfather a heart attack…” she huffed, before seeing him building towards another sneeze, spinning on her heel and promptly marching out of the room again.

(Harlan, for his part, was chuckling.)

“S-suhh… sorry guys, think I gotta sn-sneeze again…” he warned, breath catching as he actively tilted his head back, presumably seeking some sort of light to look into. His eyes were tearing slightly as he fanned one hand in the general direction of his nose, perhaps… attempting to spark another sneeze by fanning dust at himself? He smiled as he could the whole way, clearly enjoying this performance.

“What the hell, kiddo, didn’t we tell you about your whole yelling routine…” Richard grumbled, making a move to walk towards Ransom but clearly thinking better of it as Ransom’s breath caught yet again.

“Ransom!” His mother interjected. 

“You’re not a kid, you get allergy shots, I don’t know why you put on this whole production…” (Richard again)

“Ransom stop that this instant, you know the neighbors called the police last time they thought someone was in here being murdered.” (Linda)

“Shh, shh, shh, you’ll make it go away… ooh, I can feel it…” (Ransom, giggling)

The rest of them were rolling their eyes, plugging their ears, shuffling away from the scene---Marta heard a door slam, clearly Joni wasn’t risking being within the house for Ransom’s next explosion.

Meanwhile Ransom seemed to have clinched the sneeze, no longer trying to coax it out but surrendering to it, preparing for it, getting ready to ride the wave and rattle the rafters… he held up his hand, and put his fingers down one by one, his giggling nearly putting him off his sneeze again as he counted down to the sneeze: five fingers, four, three, two... and just as he had one finger left up, he gave another of those great airy voiceless pulls with his flared nostrils and slack mouth and…

“EEEYYYYYYYYAAAA-SSSHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

This one was less a heavy metal growl and more a pure scream, perhaps inspired by his mother’s mention of murder, as it bent higher pitched towards the end, and Marta couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t have imagined such a large man could reach such a high pitch.

Once again Ransom pitched forward, staying bent over, hands over his face this time as he pushed out the sneeze, dragging it out beyond all necessity, but clearly enjoying it. He popped up again, “whew! Think I got the itch out that time!” He said, beaming like a child pleased to have gotten away with something naughty, before he screwed his face up again, “W-well, I think I got it…”

“Ransom, stop it, I know you’re just putting it on this time, I can tell.” Linda said, although this time she was chuckling a bit. Harlan was outright laughing, although he rolled his eyes as he said “you’ve outdone yourself.”

Marta had prepared adequately for this one, fingers plugging her ears, but she was still rather distracted by the whole affair. She’d never seen anyone sneeze quite so dramatically. Still, he seemed to have some measure of control over the whole affair; standing behind him, she couldn’t help but notice the sheen of his hands, practically glistening with the moisture from the sneeze, before he wiped them roughly on his pants. Clearly this sneeze had been much… juicier, she thought with an alarmed frown. Ransom must have anticipated that, ergo the hands tented around his nose as he’d howled out that last sneeze. 

“You done yelling at us, buddy?” Richard asked, clearly irritated. His son had managed to take up even more space than he did, after all. Practically took up all the space in the house; certainly there wasn’t a room in the house (or on the grounds altogether, practically) that Ransom’s sneezes couldn’t be heard. 

“Yeah Dad, sorry.” Ransom said, his childish grin replaced with a more adolescent smirk, his eyes cutting over towards the couch where his father sat. “Just had a tickle in my nose.” His voice grew brighter, though no less mocking, as he looked over at Marta, who once again could have been a drink cart, a grandfather clock, a camera for all it mattered. He tilted his head at her, and adopted what might have been a boyish pout (if his face weren’t so smug) to say:

 “Allergies, you know. I can’t help it.”

[blaze-art]

Dearest Departed (And Returned): A Christophe/Ze Mole x Dorian

Notes:

.Contains OC x Canon, don’t like,don’t read

This is my first time writing Ze Mole (and Kenny),so If i screwed up his accent,I apologize

This takes place in an alternate timeline where Dorian was in South Park during the movie (in the regular timeline,she moves in during season 4) 

"Though I die..."

"Please don't go..."

"La Resistance lives on..." Holding Dorian's hand and smiling at her as she cradled his body in her arms, Christophe aka Ze Mole suddenly went limp and he let go, bite marks all over his skin, dripping with blood. He was dead, killed by guard dogs...all because a certain fatass didn't turn off the alarm. While the boys went along their merry way to stop Kyle's mom, she stayed behind. It took a moment for Dori to process what just happened, but when it hit her that her newly formed crush (that she just met) was gone,tears dripped from her eyes and onto Ze Mole's shirt. Picking him up with all her might and carrying him on her back, a tatic her friend Kiara taught her, she didn't want to just leave him there, she wanted to pay respects and bury him. Which she did so, in a part of the woods, as the whole war went down, under the noses of everybody, she used his shovel to dig a shallow hole, about two inches deep, so in the off chance that he does come back from death, he wouldn't have a difficult time digging himself out of his grave. After doing so, she laid his body gently in the hole, crossed his arms, and kissed his cheek one last time. "I will win this...we will win this...for you..."

Before leaving his makeshift resting place, she took out a piece of paper from the notebook in her backpack, wrote a little letter for him in her best handwriting (as it is usually sloppy,being that she commonly writes pretty fast), folded it into an envelope and gently laid it onto the dirt. She left shortly after, reluctantly of course, she looked back a few times before inserting herself back into the action, taking his shovel with him as a reminder... [Shortly after the war] Christophe opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness around him ,his body laying flat with his arms crossed, he pressed against the "ceiling" to have dirt fall onto his chest and exposing some light from where he touched, quickly but surely, he dug his way out of the darkness to see the bright sun beaming down, everything seemed so peaceful...Was it over? He didn't know what happened,all he remembered was being surrounded by hell fire and then, soon after, everything went white. He noticed a piece of paper in the shape of an envelope in front of him, opening it up and reading it, his heart fluttered and he smiled as he read... Dearest Christophe (or Ze Mole,if you prefer) "Even though we just met, I miss you dearly...I wish I told you sooner that I love you, when I saw you, to me, It was love at first sight (sounds cheesy,I know). Now that your gone...I worry i'll never know if you felt the same. If in the off chance that you are reading this, alive and well, or via your ghost, I was the one that buried you. I wanted to pay my respects, I couldn't just leave your body lying there. If you haven't already noticed, I took your shovel with me, as a reminder of you, If you want it back, come and see me, I may or may not have put it somewhere for safekeeping" "If you ever felt that nobody ever loved you, don't forget that I do..." "Te amo" (I love you) -Dorian <3 Dorian...It made his heart pound and cheeks blush, realizing that she loved him, going so far as to treat him so well even when he died, unlike the others, who had mild contempt for him at best (with the only other exception being Kyle) and utter disdain at worst. He wanted to see her again ,not only to tell her about his feelings, which he kept locked up for a long long while, but also to see if she was alright after the whole ordeal. Sure the peaceful looking scenery of the world did tell him everything was alright, but he wanted to make extra sure she was in good health. Getting up from his shallow grave, he left the woods to see his beloved Dori, the only problem is that she didn't enclose any address or really anything about her whereabouts, he had no clue where to find her. On his way to the town however, he ran into a familiar orange parka wearing blonde, they met when they were in hell, now both of them were walking the plane of the living once more. Mole felt maybe he knew what went down, since Kenny was the one to go to Satan while Mole stayed behind. "Hey there Mole, good to see you alive and kicking again" Kenny greeted him, hands in his parka pockets. "Kenny...what 'ze hell happened?" Christophe asked puzzled. "It's a bit of a long story, so i'll sum it up, I wished for Satan to bring everything back to normal, and he did. "I see..." Mole replied with a subtle grateful tone. Kenny looked down at the paper Christophe was holding "What's that?" he asked, pointing to it.  "Oh, 'eet's a letter from Dorian, she left it on my grave that she buried me in" Mole answered "Any idea where she could be?" he asked, hoping to get some insight on her location. Kenny shook his head, but his face brightened with an idea. "Instead of you coming to her, we can have her come to you. Think of it as a little surprise, imagine the look on her face when she sees you" Kenny suggested. "After all, she did make a grave for you, there's no doubt she would visit it" he added with sincerity. "'Sounds good to me" Christophe agreed to Kenny's idea. [A few hours later] School was done for the day, normally Dorian would just waltz on home so she could play her favorite video games, watch videos, and draw. But this time, and all the times afterwards...things would be a little different. She walked along the grass lined path of the woods, like clockwork, she knew exactly where she needed to go. Holding a bunch of flowers she picked that day from the fields outside the school, she strolled towards the grave of her beloved Christophe, who knew someone you only knew for a while leave such an impact on you? When she arrived, she was met with a sight that made her heart stop for a bit. The letter she left was missing and the hole was uncovered. Part of her wanted to believe what she'd hoped for, but a nagging part of her brain made the conclusion that his grave was robbed, she felt like she let him down when she felt a little tap on her shoulder. Quickly she turned her head,expecting to be told the terrible news at best and be attacked at worst. What she saw made her heart stop once again, then beat so fast, it felt like it was going to jump out her chest. "Mon cheri...I'm back..."

As soon as he said that Dori hugged him so fast, crying tears of joy into Ze Mole's chest. Christophe patted her on the back in with a comforting and glad grin. "I-I don't know what to say...I....I'm so happy to have you back!" Dori said through her joyful tears. However her expression dimmed with doubt "Wait...is this real? Or...Or am I dreaming?" She asked with uncertainty, half of her was expecting she would wake up in the classroom to the sound of nothing but Mr. Garrison's lecture. Ze Mole gave her a reassuring smile, "No, mon amor, 'zis is very much real..." he replied softly. In an instant Dorian's face sprang back to pure exuberance. "Thank the stars you're alive!" she exclaimed with cheerfulness. "Don't thank them, Mon cher, thank Kenny" he told her, looking at Kenny, who was standing close by, winking at Dorian and grinning. "Thank you so much! I am eternally grateful, how can I ever repay you?" She thanked with such gratitude after realizing that what he did brought reunited the two again. "No need" Kenny replied with much humility. "Te amo, amica mea" Dorian professed affectionately  ("I love you, my darling" in Latin) "Je t'aime aussi, mon cher" Ze mole responded lovingly ( "I love you too, my dear" in French) Then the two kissed, then pulled apart for air. It was only for a few seconds, but to them, it felt like minutes had gone by.  "By 'ze way...do you still have my shovel?" Christophe asked "Oh! Yes! It's in my room, we can go fetch it if you want" Dori answered, remembering that she kept his shovel with her. And so,the two lovebirds sauntered over to Dorian's house, their hands intertwined with each other, and so a love bloomed that day, a love that would have ceased to be if it weren't for a certain immortal blonde.

[theluckyyyoneee]

Timing

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8: Finale

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook

Word Count: 2.6+k

not my gif^

Taehyung was a nervous wreck as the two of you made your way back to his house that he had abandoned what seemed like a year ago. His heart was beating in his throat, his heart rate thundering in his chest.

He was so relieved that you didn’t hate him anymore but knew he needed to make it up to you for everything he did-to everyone, actually. Especially to Jungkook.

You noticed him slow down to a halt when the two of you got to a certain distance from the front door and turned to look back at him with a knowing smile. You were so nice, too nice. “You coming?”

“Yeah...” he stuttered in a voice that he even barely heard. “I’m just...” he shot you a nervous grimace. “nervous. I mean... will they even want to see me?”

You exhaled out a small laugh as you joked, “Well, probably not Jungkook.” Your awkward smile slid right off your face as you noticed that he was not laughing along with you. You took a few steps toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “The boys really missed you and they were worried as much as I was. You should apologize to all of them, but especially to Jungkook. Okay?” Taehyung took a deep breath and nodded along with your words and followed you slowly to the front door once again.

He was attacked the moment he stepped foot in the house, you stepping away at the right moment to avoid getting caught up in the sudden jostling of exclaims and hugs and a few punches here and then.

"Where were you?"

"We were worried about you, you ass!"

"I'm gonna beat your ass if you disappear like that again!"

Everyone was shouting things at him, but their tones were light and his chest was a bit lighter than it was before he stepped in there.

It amazed and awed him as he noticed how the guys didn't completely hate him like he predicted, how they huddled around him with big smiles on their faces.

Well, all except one.

He watched as you talked with Jungkook across the room, the two of you less than a hair's width apart, his hands intertwined with yours as the two of you smiled at each other, shaking and nodding your heads to each other from time to time.

Looking away when the two of you started to kiss, he smiled to himself when he felt no jealousy erupt in him, how he felt genuinely happy for the two of you without lying to himself.

Glancing at the two of you to see if it was safe to look, he saw you gesturing towards him with furrowed brows and a slight pout of your lips. Jungkook sighed and nodded before his eyes met his, and he jerked his head to the left in the direction of one of the bedrooms and Taehyung nodded mutely.

"I'm really sorry guys, and I will apologize the right way later, but right now I really need to apologize to Jungkook." Taehyung got everyone’s attention and they sobered up and patted his shoulders encouragingly.

As he made his way into the bedroom Jungkook disappeared into, you shot him a wide goofy smile and an adorable thumbs up that made him smile even though he was no nervous he could pass out at any moment.

Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands with an uncomfortable expression on his face and the expression didn’t change when he made eye contact with him. He eyed him the whole time until he was sitting right beside him.

Taehyung drug in an uneven breath after a long silence between them. “I’m so sorry for everything, Jungkook. I know that what I did was so wrong and I am so sorry for what happened with Y/N. I’m sorry for being such a dick to you.” 

Jungkook didn’t say anything to respond to what he was saying, his eyes fixed on some invisible thing on the floor by their feet. But Taehyung didn’t let that stop him and continued on with his apology. “I know that I have no excuse for how I acted, but I was just in a really bad place. You know, I was just so confused about all these sudden feelings and then it was over before I could even do anything about it.” He ranted and saw as Jungkook nodded slowly, showing that he was listening. 

“But I had time to think it over and Y/N helped me realize that it just wasn’t meant to be, and I’m fine now. I really am. I’m just... so sorry for betraying you like that and trying to hurt you like that. I really hope you can forgive me someday.” His voice trailed off into a whisper, eyes glued to his fidgeting fingers that couldn’t keep still in his lap. 

There was a long silence between them before he heard Jungkook sigh and felt the bed move from underneath as he fixed his position so he was sitting right. “As long as you know what you did wrong... and you’re really fine with the fact that me and Y/N are together, and I can trust you around her-” Jungkook’s eyebrows were raised as he said all this and Taehyung instantly nodded along to his words.

“You can trust me completely, I swear. I’ll make it up to you guys and I’ll show you that you can trust me again, I promise.” He responded eagerly, finding the nerve to try and smile at him.

He watched as Jungkook tried to fight a smile, and nod at his words. He laid a hand on his shoulder and stood up and looked back at him with a small smile. “Okay.”

Taehyung knew that it wasn’t completely fine between them, but he was willing and so thankful that he would be given another chance to prove that he could be the friend that he deserved.

2 Years Later

Your eyes widened excitedly and of pleasant surprise when Jungkook suddenly announced the two of you were going to the fair at five in the afternoon on a Saturday. You two made it a habit to go every time it was around, the both of you loving the thrill of roller-coasters and even the overpriced snacks and drinks you were forced to buy if you didn’t want to starve or die of dehydration. 

Swinging your legs off the couch so they were touching the floor, you sprang up and leaned to give him a peck on the cheek, to which he adorably stared at you in shock. It was cute that after years of dating, he still got shy. “Is everyone else coming?” You asked, referring to the rest of the boys.

“Nope, it’s just us.” He shook his head and bit his lip as he smiled down at you adoringly. Pursing your lips in mild surprise, you nodded and rushed to your shared bedroom to get dressed appropriately for the fair. 

It was weird for it to be just the two of you, even if the boys didn’t like the rides much, they always came for the adventure, but you couldn’t help but feel excited that you had Jungkook to yourself tonight. 

At least you wouldn’t have to hear Hoseok’s screams that would no doubt would make your ears ring with how loud they were, you laughed to yourself as you finished pulling your shoes on. 

Grabbing your phone off the charger and grabbing some cash, you stuffed them in your pockets as you exited the bedroom to find Jungkook on his phone, his leg bouncing up and down, which you recognized as his nervous habit. The way he kept biting at his lips and how his brows were furrowed were also big hints. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, sinking down on the couch next to him, leaning closer to see what he was looking at on his phone. He tilted his phone away from you though before you could see, and jumped up as if you had shocked him with impressive speed. 

Laughing nervously, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just excited.” His words were laced with more nervous laughter and you couldn’t help but look at him strangely. Come to think of it, he had been acting strange for the last couple weeks.

He leaned down and grasped your hand in his and pulled you up with a wide smile. Your heart raced at the proximity after all these years and you felt your heart race with affection when you felt his lips on your temple. “Ready?” His voice was soft and warm, eyes trained on your face as you shyly smiled and nodded back. 

The whole ride there, you studied him as slyly as you could.

How he would glance at you more often than he usually did, how he would take his left hand off the steering wheel to continuously pat his left jean pocket every once in a while. You let your mind wander back the last couple of weeks to where he first started acting weird.

Whenever you and the rest of the boys were hanging out at their place, you would find yourself alone on the couch watching some movie while they were all huddled somewhere where you couldn’t hear anything they were saying, very secret-like. 

How he suddenly wanted to know what you thought about your future with him. Not that you two had never talked about it before, but this time around you could tell it wasn’t one of those playful, ‘I see us with ten dogs,’ conversations, but where you saw you guys living one day, how many kids you wanted...

To be honest, you weren’t sure of what kind of future you saw for the two of you, but all you wished for that the two of you were together in the future. That enough would be more than fine with you.

You two had a blast at the fair as usual, riding the rides you usually did, but it was still as fun and thrilling as it was the first time. He held your hand the entire time and you were glad that he was acting more like his usual carefree self.

Taking lots of pictures and feeding each other bits of funnel cake, you couldn’t believe how fast time passed, the sun having already set a while ago, the whole area around you lit up in twinkling lights, you felt the slight ache in your feet start to kick in from waiting in long lines. 

“You want to take a break? The line for the ferris wheel doesn’t look too long,” Jungkook suggested, and you nodded, eager to sit down and relax and be able to see all the pretty lights of the rides and structures below you in the night sky.

He was right, the line wasn’t long and before you knew it you were climbing into the metal contraption with two seats facing each other with a bit of space in between them, and it was like it’s own little room, with large windows to look out of. 

You sat on one side and Jungkook sat on the other side, and you could his eyes on you as you tiredly stretched your ankles and shoulders. “Should we go home after this? You seem pretty tired,” his tone was warm and you opened your eyes to find him staring at you with a small smile.

You smiled back at him, tilting your head to the side and muttered a, “Please and thank you.” You both chuckled at that and you felt yourselves being lifted in the air as you two made your way to the top.

Forgetting about your tiredness temporarily, you eagerly looked out the window in awe as the people continued to get smaller and the lights began to shine even more brightly in contrast to the pitch black sky.

As the two of you got closer to the top, you noticed Jungkook start to get all jittery again, clearing his throat every now and then, wiping his hands on the material of his jeans and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you noticed hand stuffed in the front pocket of his jeans at an angle that could not be comfortable. 

You were about to comment on it when the two of you finally reached the top and you couldn’t help but admire the view. “It’s so pretty,” you whispered in awe, a smile on your face as you turned back to him to see if he was seeing the same view as you were seeing, your heart thundering in your chest once you saw the position he was currently in. 

In the space between the seats, he was down on both knees, in front of you, expression filled more adoration, love and nervousness you had ever seen on his face before as he presented you with a gorgeous ring in between his his forefinger and thumb. “Y/N, I knew you were the only one for me since I first met you back in high school,” he started, his voice shaky with emotion as your own breathing starting coming out a bit louder, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Waiting all those years for you were hell, but for you, I’d happily wait another hundred years. Being with you... being able to see your sweet smile, being able to hold these hands,” sniffling as his voice began to break, he took hold of your hand and gently began rubbing the skin with his thumb lovingly, your own eyes tearing up with the emotion flowing through you. “being able to kiss your lips, holding you at night... I can’t imagine my life without you anymore. You have my heart, my soul, my everything. The only thing that I ask is that you continue to love me as you do now, and stay with me forever. I will cherish you and work hard to make you happy everyday of our lives, I promise to love only you until we die... Y/N, will you make the luckiest man on Earth... and marry me?” Clearing his throat as it became too much, tears running down his cheeks that matched yours, he looked deep in your eyes as he waited for your response.

Sucking in a shaky inhale as you tried to hold in a sob, your love for him too much for you to handle, you wanted to laugh at how nervous he looked.

How could you possibly say no?

A laugh bubbling out from your mouth, you blinked the remaining tears from your eyes and you nodded eagerly, happiness filling your entire being as you got out a thousand times: “Yes.”

A strangled sound of relief escaped him as he hurried to put the slide the ring on your finger, before leaping up and attaching his lips to yours in a slow but passionate kiss. His hands came up to your temples and slid his fingers through your hair, tilting your head to the side to get a better angle, paying no mind to how sweaty the both of you were from all day being outside, welcoming the heat he was radiating. 

You thought you heard him mumble, “Thank you,” multiple times into your mouth before pulling back to look at you with that bunny smile that you loved so much. Plopping himself down by you, he grasped your left hand in his and the two of you admired the ring on your finger. 

You never had liked your fingers. 

You always thought your hands were too small, and your fingers too short and chubby.

But with how your hand looked in his, you were in awe.

The two of you laughing giddily, you let your head rest on his shoulders and him in turn leaning his head on yours, your cheeks started to hurt with how much you were smiling. 

Wait til you told the boys.

IT”S FINALLY OVER GUYS SO SO SORRY ABOUT THE ETERNITY WAIT BUT I TRIED MY BEST TO MAKE IT ROMANTIC but i kinda don’t like the ending but oh well. hope u all enjoy and thnk you to all who read Timing, much love!!!

[fixxofvixx]

Stay With Me - Demon Leo AU - Chapter 16

hi~~~~!!!! I finished the chapter quicker than I thought so here ya go~ I will probably work on Vampire Taekwoon or Hongbin’s fic next.  Who knows!

I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!!!

😈😈😈😈😈😈

Hakyeon kept his hand firm around your neck but, thankfully, you could still breathe.  The lynx kept hissing and batting its paws at you.  You tried to back up but Hakyeon wouldn't budge.  

"Hakyeon, I swear, if you don't release her right now, I will not hold back."

"But I just want to talk to her.  If she's a good girl, I'll give her back."  He started to back away with you and you panicked.  You struggled to get out of his arms but you didn't make much progress.  The lynx came closer and swiped a paw at your leg, slicing the skin instantly.  You cried out and Leo cursed.

"Hakyeon, this has gone too far.  Look, we can talk but just let her go first.  There's no use in anyone getting hurt."  Smoke billowed around Leo's feet as he talked.  His eyes were set on the scratch that you knew you had across your thigh.  

Hakyeon's hand tightened on your throat slightly but then relaxed.  You'd hoped he would let you go but instead, he turned you around to face him and he smiled.  

Suddenly, Hakyeon's wings burst from his back and he quickly lifted you into the air.  You screamed as you covered your hands with your face.  Wind whipped past as Hakyeon flew as fast as he could.  You could hear Leo and Ken yelling at Hakyeon from behind you both.  You wanted to look but you didn't considering how fast Hakyeon was flying.

"My brothers may be able to teleport, but I have the fastest wings!  Don't worry, beautiful, we're just gonna find a nice place to chat.  Then, I'll give you right back."

"Pardon me if I don't trust you to do that."

"Aww, y/n, you're gonna hurt my feelings."

"Do you even have any?"  

"If I didn't, you would have dropped from the sky already."  Hakyeon's voice got quiet and strained.  He was angrier than before now.  Then you realized that you couldn't hear Leo or Ken anymore.  You finally gathered the courage to look around and you gasped when you saw that you were no longer in the forest.  This place was dark and looked as if a war had been fought.  Buildings were half-charred.  Trees were almost non-existent.  There were also no people that you could see.  Or more specifically, no humans.  You saw plenty of demons roaming about with their wild hair and some even displayed their wings proudly.  

Hakyeon descended from the sky and landed on the roof of a house high up on a cliff.  When your feet touched the floor, you collapsed.  Your body really did not like flying.

"Don't give up on me now, beautiful."  He reached down and picked you up from the floor.  You still tried to kick out of his hold but it was no use.  He carried you down a flight of steps into a pristine living room.  He deposited you on a sofa as he walked to a desk that held various containers of liquid.  He grabbed one and poured the liquid into a glass.  He walked over to you and handed the glass to you.  You didn't take his offering, instead opting to glare at him.

"It's only water, y/n."  He shrugged and placed the glass on the table next to the sofa. He crouched in front of you and looked at the scratch on your thigh caused by his lynx.  He raised his hand towards it but you slapped it away.

"Don't touch me."

"You shouldn't leave that unhealed.  It could get infected."

"This was caused by you and your mangy lynx.  What makes you think I want you to help me or touch me?"

"She's not mangy."  Hakyeon scoffed and walked to the chair opposite the sofa and sat down.  

"Leo can heal it when he comes for me."  You crossed your arms over your chest and ignored the pain in your leg.

"Oh, honey, he has no idea where this place is. As soon as we were clear of the forest, I went through a portal to get here.  It will just be you and me until I decide to take you back.  So, the sooner you tell me where my things are, the sooner you can go home."

"From what I understand, they aren't yours.  They were my grandparent's.  So, technically, it's mine.  You have no claim over it."  After you spoke, Hakyeon's hair stood out from his head and red smoke curled around his feet.  Your breath hitched in you throat.  You had never seen him like this and it make him look a hundred times more scary.  Your heart started racing and you prayed that somehow Leo would find you.  

"Y/N, you really are trying my patience.  Sometime very soon, I will stop being so nice.  If I have to torture you to get what I want, then so be it.  I know your grandparents gave the items to you before they died.  Those witches told me that much."

"The only thing my grandmother gave me before she died was a necklace.  I had it for about a month before the person I thought was my mother took it away from me to sell it!  Everything was taken from my room that day.  I had nothing left!"  Tears sprang to your eyes as you thought about your grandparents.  

Hakyeon looked confused for a moment at your 'confession'.  Only part of it was a lie.  Your grandmother had given you a necklace and it was taken from you.

"You had nothing hidden away?  Are you sure?  Your mother seemed to think so.  There was a secret compartment found in your room after you left to shack up with my brother in the woods."  He smirked as if he was proud he had so much information on you.

"Yes, I had a hiding spot in my room in the closet.  I had money in there that I was saving to leave that place.  I'm sure they found that and used it, too."  As you finished speaking the lynx walked slowly into the room.  It hissed at you before crawling into Hakyeon's lap.  The arrival of the lynx caused your body to involuntarily shake.

"You don't like my pet, do you?"

"I'm sure the feeling is mutual."  You sneered as the lynx cuddled against Hakyeon as he stroked its fur.

"Aw, Sibena isn't all that bad.  She just doesn't take to strangers and she's very protective of me.  She knows you're causing me grief so she's naturally not happy about that."  Hakyeon whistled and the lynx leaped from the chair and bounded over to you in a half a second.  It jumped up on the sofa and snarled at you.  You refused to look at it.  Tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall as you stared at the floor, silently praying for Leo.  

"Now, why don't you tell me the truth.  If you do, Sibera just might want to be friends with you.  Otherwise...well...she might be a little hungry.  You don't need both of your arms, right?"  You heard the smile in his voice but you couldn't even move to respond to him.  You saw out of the corner of your eye as the lynx lowered her body and sniffed your arm.  You closed your eyes and waited for her to attack.  

Only a minute later, you heard a snarl and then you felt teeth on your arm.  You gasped but it didn't bite down.  It was just a warning.  There was no where you could go.  If Leo did know where this place was, he would have been here by now.  You were a Hakyeon's mercy until he decided to take you back.  But he would have to kill you before you told him where Ken's gifts were.

Suddenly, you heard a commotion from somewhere beyond the doors of the living room.  You opened your eyes and looked around.  Hakyeon stood and started towards the door.

"Sibena, stay."  At Hakyeon's command, the lynx tightened its hold on you and you were sure it had broken the skin this time.  

Before Hakyeon could make it to the door, the room went pitch black dark.  You heard Hakyeon curse and then try to open the door, but you didn't hear it open.  You couldn't see a thing.  After a few seconds, you heard thunder rip through the room.  Lightning strikes filled the large space.  Short bursts of light allowed you to see Hakyeon still trying to open the door.  The lynx still had your arm so you couldn't leave.  Finally, the thunder and lightning stopped and the door crashed open.  The door sent Hakyeon back onto the floor, dazed, and the lynx finally released your arm to move to stand next to him, intent on protecting him.  He looked stunned so you took off for the door.  

"Stop!"  Hakyeon yelled after you but you still ran.  You knew any second that the lynx would probably attack you but you had to try.

You had no idea where you were going.  You just ran.  At the end of the long hallway was a terrace.  Seeing freedom in the doors, you took off for them.  You burst through the doors and your body slammed against the balcony and you gasped when you looked down.  The ground floor was farther than you thought.  You swung your leg over the side of the balcony, intending to use the thin columns that were on either side of the balcony.  You stopped when you noticed the demons below.  They were aware of your presence now and were headed for you.  You pulled your leg back and looked back towards the hallway.  If you went back towards Hakyeon, you would have to deal with the lynx.  You didn't know what to do.

You gasped when black smoke began to fill the terrace.  You saw the lynx emerge from the room and look your way but it apparently couldn't see past the smoke.  Small tendrils of the smoke curled around your legs and traveled up to your arms.  You felt a presence at your back and you jumped.  An arm snaked around your stomach and lips were at your ear.

"I'm here, my love."  Leo spoke into your ear as your knees almost gave way in relief.  You turned in his arms, tears falling as you saw that it really was him.  Your arms went around him and he held you against him.  In an instant you were back in the room where you had been with Hakyeon.  He was pacing at the far end of the room.  

"How in the hell are you here?  I told no one about this place!"

"He didn't know, but I did."  A dark voice spoke from the doorway and you looked around to see a tall demon dressed all in black, blue smoke swirling beneath him, and a large black dog at his side.  His eyes were the same blue as the rest, so you assumed this was another brother.  Judging by his appearance, you hoped this one was on your side.

"Ravi, my brother! I'm so happy to see you here! How did you know I was here?"

"Bullshit, you're not happy to see anyone. And you know that I know where every soul is on this earth.  Imagine my surprise when my brothers come to Hell to find me and ask for a favor.  But as soon as I heard your name, I was more than willing to help."

Leo took you to the sofa and made you sit down.  He knelt before you and placed his hand over the scratch on your thigh, healing that before moving to your arm.  The pain lessened with each second and you smiled at him.  Once he was finished, he planted a kiss on your lips.  

"But, Ravi, she has it! She has Ken's gift! It shouldn't be in the hands of a human.  One of us should have it.  It should go to the oldest!"

"It was Ken's gift to give, Hakyeon.  Why can't you accept that?"

"Oh, right, I should have known.  You always side with Ken.  You never could say no to him."  Hakyeon rolled his eyes and then looked at you.  "This isn't over, beautiful.  You should know that."

"Yes, it's over, Hakyeon.  Unless you want to come visit me again.  I can always find more work for you in Hell."  Ravi laughed and you only caught a glimpse of his terrified reaction before you were instantly back in Leo's house.

Ravi and Ken had followed as well and Leo was busy checking you over again to make sure he had healed everything.  

"I'm okay, Leo.  You healed everything."

"I think he's looking for something else, y/n."  Ravi spoke up but there was a slight amusement in his voice.  You blushed once you understood his meaning.  You swatted at Leo's hands and tried to walk away from him.  He only settled to wrap an arm around your waist and secure you to his side.

"How did you know my name?  Or did Leo tell you?"

"I knew it even before Leo told me.  Like I reminded Hakyeon, I know every soul on Earth."

"Then.....you knew my grandparents?"

"Yes, I know your grandparents.  I welcomed them not long ago and they beg me for information on you all the time."

"Wait, they're in Hell?! Did they do something wrong?!"

"No, my dear.  Everyone who dies goes there.  Consider it more as an Underworld more so than Hell."

"And.....my parents?"  You spoke quietly, hoping not to anger him with too many questions.  His large dog was only ten feet from you and you kept stealing glances at it.  "I'm sorry if I asking too much."

"You don't have to worry about making Ravi mad.  He's just a big ol' softie."  Ken chuckled as Ravi turned to him and smacked him in the stomach.

"I have a reputation to uphold, idiot!"  Ravi turned back to you and smiled. "But, he's right, if would take a lot to make me mad. And Spot, here, is just a big puppy dog.  But he looks mean so he works well for intimidating people.  And as for your parents...yes, they are with me."

A lump formed in your throat as all hope died that they were still alive.  You simply nodded and tried not to start crying again.

"They ask me about you a lot.  I am able to see people on earth and what they are doing.  I told them that you had it rough at first but found a helpless little forest demon that was keeping you company.  They were satisfied that you had found happiness.  They are together with your grandparents."

Ravi's information made you smile.  Although you missed them all terribly, it made you happy that they were together.  

"Well, hopefully you didn't look last night, Ravi!  I would hate for you to have to explain to Y/N's family what--"  Ken's sentence was cut short when Leo released you and teleported over to him.  Leo grabbed the back of Ken's neck and disappeared with him, most likely towards with farthest tree from the house.  

Ravi shook his head at his brother's antics and then made his way over to you.  Spot followed and nuzzled your hand with his nose.  You jerked your hand back slightly but eventually petted his head very carefully.  The dog whined and licked your hand.

"He likes you.  Spot is a hell hound but he isn't a very good one.  He would rather chew on shoes than chase after the evil people in Hell.  So I keep him with me."  Ravi inched closer and spoke softly. "Y/N, you must never let Hakyeon know that you have Ken's gift.  There would be no reversing what he could do with it.  Leo told me what you intend to do with it.  I would recommend that you do that as soon as you can.  It can only be used once and I would much rather that you use it instead.  Leo knows how to call for me if you need anymore help."

You nodded at Ravi, thankful that he was not like his oldest brother.  

"Ravi, you're too close to my woman.  Don't you think your wife would mad?"

"You're married?!"  You exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, spitfire of a woman that caught my eye on one of my trips to the surface.  She gives me hell and keeps calling me a marshmallow, but I love her.  I suppose I should get back, I left her in the middle of the night and she tends to give me the cold shoulder if I'm not there in the mornings."  He winked at you and then turned to Leo.

"Ravi.....thank you.  I never would have found her.  I owe you one."

"Just keep her safe and don't let Hakyeon have his way.  That will be enough."  In a flash of blue smoke, Ravi disappeared.  

Leo was instantly at your side.  He didn't say a word, just cupped his hands around your cheeks and lowered his lips to yours.

[sending-the-message]

Anglerfish by coffinstuffer

Coyotes will sometimes lure domestic dogs out into the woods by playing with them. A single coyote will approach the dog, ears forward, tail up, acting friendly as can be. It may even roll on its back and expose its belly in a show of submission, to draw the dog into a bout of mock wrestling. Gradually, the games will push farther and farther away from home. Deep into the forest. That’s when the rest of the pack appears. Clusters. The dog’s new friend becomes its executioner as the pack begins to attack.

It’s not uncommon for lonely children to bond with imaginary companions. They invent invisible friends to pass the hours away with. It is considered a typically harmless behavior, as long as the child understands the ultimate difference between fantasy and reality.

I’ve often wondered about the correlation between invisible childhood friends and later mental disturbance. I wonder what the statistics of suicides and disappearances might look like, when juxtaposed against the incidence of imaginary friends and what age someone stopped seeing them.

The first invisible friend I can remember was named Kevin. He was a little boy just like me, if not a few years older. We used to play together on the beaches of Lake Michigan. Building sand castles, collecting rocks and splashing around in the water.

Kevin liked to swim a lot more than I did. He’d dog-paddle out far into the water, giggling and urging me to join him. I tried a few times, but whenever I swam more than ten feet from the shore, my mother would call me back. Kev and I played together almost every week from my early childhood until I was nine and my family moved farther inland.

I didn’t even realize that Kevin wasn’t a corporeal person until years later. I made some offhand comment to my mother about my old lakeside companion. She seemed confused, and said there were never any other children when we went to the lake. I would laugh and talk to myself. But there was no Kevin. At least, not that she ever saw.

Hyenas can mimic human laughter. There is a lot of African folklore about evil spirits that can imitate the voices of loved ones to draw you away from the village.

These stories might have been fairy tales, but they served a very real purpose. The people who survived were the ones who didn’t follow strange sounds in the dark.

I met Polly a few weeks after my family moved into a new house, in an area with dense forests and narrow roads. Rural Michigan might as well be the Canadian tundra. We were farther north than Toronto. Though the summers were pleasant enough, the winters got bitter cold.

I don’t know for a fact that I was the only one who could see Polly, because she only ever came around when I was alone. But once or twice, she seemed to disappear into thin air, which makes me think she wasn’t made of flesh and blood.

Polly was… weird. She made me nervous from the second she walked out of the woods. Maybe it was her bare, dirt-covered feet, or her wide, glassy-eyes. Even at ten years old, I knew that other children weren’t supposed to just appear like that. She shouldn’t have been wandering around in the middle of nowhere without an adult.

She always wore the same thing. A faded, floral dress, with her straw-colored hair in two messy braids. She never offered any explanation of where she came from or where her family lived, beyond just pointing back into the woods. She said they didn’t live far. They had a cabin out there.

I didn’t believe her.

But I was bored. No other children lived within walking distance. So Polly and I would kick a soccer ball around, and climb trees, and play cowboys and pirates. She always wanted me to come to her house. She said she had a lot of fun games there, but I wasn’t allowed to leave the yard.

Polly was predictable, at least. She was always waiting for me after school, regardless of the weather. When it got too cold out, we played up in my attic. I was alarmed by her lack of boots or winter clothing at first. But she always just shrugged and said the temperature didn’t bother her. She did try to get me to come outside with her sometimes. She’d say I didn’t really need a coat either. She said that if you stayed in the snow long enough, you’d stop feeling it.

At the time, I wasn’t certain she was trying to harm me. She was confused, lonely, and desperate for a friend. But at the back of my mind, a nagging voice told me she didn’t have my best interests at heart. So I never did follow her out into the elements without proper protection.

Sirens are an ancient idea. Creatures that take the shape of gorgeous women, or whatever their prey would find most enticing. Creatures that sing so beautifully, they can bewitch any listener. Creatures that are such effective predators, their prey doesn’t notice the trap until their ship has been dashed to bits on the rocky shore and there’s blood in the water.

My family moved just a little outside Detroit when I was about thirteen. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of stories about what the city is like. What a ghost town it is. I’ve even heard it compared to a post-apocalyptic wasteland. But you have to understand, it was a pretty gradual descent from the 60’s until about 2000. In the early 90’s, it wasn’t in the terrible state it is now.

My parents and I moved into a relatively nice apartment complex. I went to the nearby middle school, and it was fine. I didn’t make friends very fast, but I also wasn’t scared for my life or anything.

Robert introduced himself a few days after we finished unpacking our boxes. He was fifteen. A tall, skinny black kid with a buzzed head and a thousand-watt smile. He said he lived down in one of the basement units, though I never saw it. His father drank a lot, and didn’t like company. We would sometimes hang out at my place, but it was kind of cramped, and my mother was usually home. So Robert and I spent a lot of time on the roof of the building.

It was terribly exciting. I remember the way my heart used to skip and flutter when we stole cigarettes from the corner store, or slipped a forty into our baggy jeans. On cool autumn nights, when Robert and I would lie back on a blanket and look at the stars, my skin would get inexplicably warm. I’d feel strange and fuzzy all over, and it was more than just the watery beer.

He talked to me a lot about how he wanted to be a pilot. He’d always dreamed of joining the Air Force. His dad said it was a stupid idea. They don’t let faggots in the army. I’d never heard that word before. Faggot. It felt heavy, and dirty, and also thrilling in the same way that everything about Robert was. When he cupped my face in his wide hands and pressed our lips together, it was like the hormonal floodgates burst open and I was suddenly hungry in ways I’d never experienced.

I started to suspect Robert was not real when I saw him fall nine stories into a dumpster below, and get up again without so much as a scratch on him. I decided to ignore all better judgment, because I wanted to keep kissing him.

We only lived in that Detroit apartment for about eight months. By the end, I was well and truly in love, and when Robert whispered that there was a way we could stay together–I almost listened. But I didn’t want to step off the roof. I was scared. I knew it would hurt. When I refused, Robert became despondent and disappeared. I didn’t see him at all the last three days I spent in that building.

Versions of skinwalkers and shape shifters appear in most cultures.

It’s a terrifying idea. Being hurt by something that looks like a friend. Danger that seems harmless. Wolves in sheep’s clothing.

I can’t help but wonder if something as old as humanity itself might be the thing these legends sprang from. Perhaps these stories are warnings of some primal memory. A creature that looks like a person, but absolutely isn’t.

After my parents split up, my mother and I went to Ohio. She had a sister there, just a short drive from Columbus. We all lived together in a trailer, along with my five-year-old cousin Becca.

I was sixteen by then, so I was often left to watch Becca after school and on weekends. I didn’t mind it too much. It wasn't like I had other friends. She’d fill in her coloring books while I did homework, then we’d go outside.

There was another little girl next door. Tess. She and Becca loved to run around together, racing up and down the dirt roads, playing tag. Whenever they’d go too far off, too close to the parkway for comfort, I’d call them back. Becca usually listened, but Tess always seemed reluctant. I didn’t think a whole lot of it.

One day, when I was a little too engrossed in reading a comic book and not watching the girls closely, I heard a shriek.

“Tess! Watch out!”

I looked up just in time to see a semi-truck blasting past, not even slowing down as it ran little Tess right over. My jaw dropped. Panic shot through me. Sure, she wasn’t my kid, and I hadn’t even been directly tasked with watching her, but this was still ostensibly my fault.

I was on my feet, ready to run to Mr. Callhun’s house to borrow his phone and call the police.

But Tess was still standing there. Completely unharmed. She skipped off the road, giggling and whispering into Becca’s ear. Becca still looked a bit shell shocked, but smiled and hugged Tess close.

My stomach twisted. It was terrible to see from the outside. One of those things trying to get my baby cousin.

When I got close enough, I grabbed Becca’s wrist and tugged her away. Tess eyed me. Cold and calculating. Unlike any of them had ever looked at me before.

Perhaps I’d gotten too old. The whimsical thinking of childhood had given way to suspicion and fear. Perhaps it could tell that I’d caught onto the game. Perhaps it was angry I could even still see it. Most people my age couldn’t.

“You leave Becca alone,” I said firm as my cracking pubescent voice could muster.

“Or what?” Tess smiled at me. I’d never noticed how sharp her canines were. How mean those overgrown, dirty fingernails looked. I hadn’t taken the time to get a really good look at her until that moment.

“I’ll hurt you.”

“Adam!” Becca began trying to struggle out of my grasp. Obviously embarrassed.

Tess had started to back away, still smiling. She probably knew I couldn’t do anything to her. But maybe I’d get someone who could. A priest or a rabbi or something.

“Becca.” I kneeled down to be at her eye level. “Look at me. Tess isn’t real, OK? Real people can’t get run over by a truck and live.”

“Let me go!” Becca wailed, pushing at my hand ineffectually, trying to squirm free.

“Becca. Please. It’s important. You can’t play by the road with Tess anymore. She wants to hurt you.”

Becca broke down into ugly tears. Face bright red. Windpipes constricting to form unholy shrieks. I sighed, picked her up and carried her back to the trailer. She cried herself out and fell asleep on the couch.

When her mother got home that night, I told her Becca was playing way too close to the road and wouldn’t listen when I said it was dangerous. I hoped that was enough to warrant keeping her inside for a while.

It wasn’t more than a few weeks before Becca stopped talking about Tess. When I asked, she said that Tess had gone away. I took comfort in the fact that I hadn’t seen her around either.

Anglerfish are grotesque creatures. Ugly, with long fangs and dull eyes. But in the depths of oceanic trenches, they can hide in the shadows. The only visible part of them is the glowing ball of light that sprouts from an antenna at the top of their head.

They advertise salvation, the only source of illumination in the pits of despair. But any creature that takes the bait meets a sticky end.

I still see them every now and then. Little old ladies begging for help across a busy street, right when the light is about to change. Pretty strangers at bars who are far too aggressive in urging me to have another drink. Lonely hitchhikers that ask to travel to places the GPS will never find. But don’t worry. They know the way.

I’m not sure what they are. I can’t be the only one who notices them. After all, most of us had the ability at one point. We just grew out of it. Perhaps we shed it as a survival mechanism.

Perhaps I’m one in a million. A kid who got stuck with a genetic allele that should have been bred out generations ago. Perhaps my existence is purposeful, and I’m a new evolution when it comes to defending ourselves against the strange and bitter unknown.

I can only say one thing for sure. Keep a close eye on your children when they start to tell you about their new invisible friend. Chances are, that friend is not friendly at all.

[kazimakuwabara]

I saw this prompt a while ago but was too busy at work to sit down and write for it! I haven’t lost the inspiration so i’m going for it! this is prompt #93 from @yyhfanfiction . Hope you enjoy the little snippet. :>

Prompt: Kurama and Kuwabara are treated differently for being red-heads

rating: pg-13

tags: tension, blood, assault mention

“Did you bring them, Shou?” 

“Yes master Yen, I have them here. They put up a fight, but once the bigger one was overwhelmed, the fox came along easily! It was just as you said...” A demon with a higher pitched voice (Shou presumably) eagerly answered the darker voice of his employer.

Shou tossed two figures that were half his size against the stone tiles of the floor. 

One figure was large, battered and lifeless. His body hit the floor and lay sprawled and boneless, unmoving against the cold stone. The second figure had chains on his arms and about his wrists. He fell sprawling to the floor as well, but unlike the first figure, he sprang into action rather than lying lifeless. With his hands still bound behind his back, the second figure managed to rise, and position himself near the first, eyes flashing, and mouth set in a threatening snarl. 

A deep chuckle bounced around the room, emanating from the darkness in the corner. As the echoed laughter continued, a tall and pale hulking figure appeared out of the inky blackness. Three silver eyes flashed over to the two figures before him. He raised his hand and waved at Shou, “Good. You may leave. Prepare two crates, and contact the usual clients. Let them know we will have an auction.”

Shou bowed, “Yes Master Yen!”

The door was shut behind the scurrying demon, and the three were left alone.

“Well...You two were awfully hard to catch. But now that I have you I see the stories are true. The silver fox Kurama has changed his pelt to red, and made friends with a human who is impressively strong...though from the looks of him...not strong enough.”

Yen bent down and reached for the unconscious figure’s face. Yen tilted the bruised and battered man’s face towards the dim lights of the room and smiled as he recognized one of his targets’, Kazuma Kuwabara.

Kurama’s hair seemed to bristle as his whole body tensed, the chains bruising his skin as he puffed up in rage. “Don’t you touch him-” Kurama spat, his heart in his throat as he made to lunge for the demon. 

The demon swept his arm out, catching Kurama by the stomach and sending him skidding across the floor. When Kurama came to a stop, he coughed pathetically as he tried to recover from the hit.

“Now, now...silly fox. Those chains aren’t mere decoration,” Yen said cooly, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “They weaken any demon bound up within them, so don’t you think you can attack me! You’re not even at a quarter of your strength right now.”

Kurama did not answer, which seemed to satisfy Yen further. Without another glance towards Kurama, Yen turned to continue his examination of the downed human.

Yen cupped Kuwabara’s head in his hands, casting a discerning eye over Kuwabara’s face. He nodded, eyes calculating and seeming to approve of something. Yen’s long fingers traced the curls of Kuwabara’s pompadour, and the demon let out a reverent breath as the curls glistened in the low light, “Golden orange. Like polished copper or the light of the sun....beautiful. Truly, beautiful. But then again, your hair now...is also beautiful. Deep red...like the finest rose, or a drop of blood.”

“I didn’t think you were the type to wax poetics Yen...” Kurama grunted from his curled position on the floor. The strike had hurt more than it should have, more than anyone had hurt him in a long time. Yen had spoken truly when he claimed the chains were weakening him. Kurama could really feel himself getting weaker...no. No, it was like something was suppressing his abilities, making him feel sick.

But weak or not, Kurama wouldn’t let Yen paw all over Kuwabara.

It was a struggle, but he managed to roll from his prone position and turn to get back on his feet. As he rose, he kept his body low and his green eyes locked on Yen, glaring at him as he tried to think his way around any tactics Yen might pull.

“Look at those sharp eyes...” Yen chuckled, dropping Kuwabara carelessly against his arm, “Even if you don’t look like how I remember you...those eyes are still wicked, and bloodthirsty to the core. You used to be white and gold...beautiful in its own right... But the red and green will sell much better.”

Kurama’s lip twitched and his face twisted in disgust, “So you’re going to sell me? Will I be a slave of some sort, and will someone scalp me so they can have a fine fur? You’re pathetic Yen...such obvious tactics won’t work to frighten me-”

“This human here is the real prize, however.”

Kurama’s words died in his throat, and he was left gaping at Yen as a hard ball of tension flooded his gut.

 “A healthy human is worth quite a lot on the market,” Yen droned casually, twirling a long finger in Kuwabara’s hair, “A human with impressive spiritual energy puts a human on another level when it comes to the market...but red hair....”

Yen let out a low whistle and gently set Kuwabara on the ground, “Red hair has always been a fascination to the demon world. That red hair you got there...red as blood. It’s typical for a demon but still sought after. You’ll fetch a pretty penny. But this color here, copperish gold...that’s a bit of an abnormality. I could sell him for such a high price...I could retire.”

“Why...?” Kurama suddenly rasped, a cold chill starting in his stomach and flooding up and out to his limbs.

“But I could keep him for myself,” Yen continued not looking at Kurama, ”like a pet. He could be my fighting dog. Enough time with me...he’ll have no humanity left and he’ll be nothing more than a savage animal. But selling him is more fiscally responsible,” Yen made a disappointed noise, “It’s so hard to decide. I’d like to keep him...but money is so good. And then if I sell him...well who knows what others would do to such...a fine specimen,” Yen trailed a hand down Kuwabara’s chest suggestively, “with enough stamina to endure. Any demon would love a human that won’t break so easily...”

“Your quarrel is with me!” Kurama spat, rising to his full height and taking an anxious step forward, “In the past-”

“In the past,” Yen echoed voice dripping with a long sleeping anger, ”When you were a silver fox instead of a red...you stole from me. You humiliated me. You even turned my servant against me! He was mine!”

“Kuronue was never yours to keep,” Kurama hissed, ignoring the pain brought about by his fallen comrade's name.

Kurama’s utterance seemed to unhinge Yen, and the demon stood quickly turning enraged eyes towards Kurama. He shifted his whole form to face the chained man, eyes flashing with violence and lips stretched thin as anger coursed through his body. 

It seemed Kurama had found the heart of the problem here...

“He was mine! And he would still be alive if you hadn’t...hadn’t seduced him away!” Yen snarled, spittle beginning to froth at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve waited...waited long years to make you suffer for what you’ve done!”

“Because I robbed you? Humiliated you?” Kurama snorted his voice filled with bitterness, “Or because I stole someone away from you before you could violate them?”

Kurama remembered his first meeting of Kuronue a lifetime ago. Kuronue worked as a thief for Yen but was constantly having to watch his back. Yen was a slaver, he sold demons and humans alike. And if anyone denied Yen...they would often find themselves being auctioned off at one of Yen’s slave houses. Yen had lusted after Kuronue a long time, and when Kurama showed up one day offering Kuronue a way out, he took it. Kurama had made off with what Yen considered a great treasure, a missed opportunity to slate his lusts.

And even hundreds of years later it seemed Yen still couldn’t forgive Kurama.

“Kuronue was mine...would have been mine! No one I have desired has ever said no to me! They wouldn’t have had the chance!” Yen howled a crazed look in his eyes.

“Kuronue belonged to no one...I didn’t even own him. I just gave him a way to escape,” Kurama sneered.

“And a lot of good that did him! He would have been safer with me!” Yen cried hands flying wildly in the air, “Safe in my hands! Better to be with me, than die as he did traveling with you!”

Yen’s words cut like a knife, and Kurama had to close his eyes against the memory of Kuronue’s bloodied body. Kurama took in a deep breath to steady himself, before in an even tone he whispered, “Better to die free with me, than in a cage he would not have bared.”

Yen let out a snarl of disgust, “I’ve been looking for you for years...I was going to make you pay for snatching away my prize! I thought I’d wipe out that human woman you’ve been living with, but then I caught wind of your human friend. Pale skin, red hair, and a decent power level to boot! Through him, I’ll truly make you suffer!”

Kurama met Yen with a cold glare, “You highly underestimate me, and even worse, you underestimate Kuwabara. You won’t be able to get your way.”

Kurama’s sudden cold and collected demeanor sent Yen into a frenzy.

“I’ll sell your friend to the highest bidder!” Yen roared, “To a group with the darkest desires!  And I’ll force you to watch as they change your human into nothing more than fodder! And when they are done I’ll have a go. When we’re done with him, they’ll come for you!” Yen howled, and raged, taking several threatening steps forwards.

His enraged face twisted to one of shock as a glowing blade erupted from the back of his neck and then out the front. The blade twisted for a moment, seeming to be stuck against the thicker part of his neck, and then with a swipe, Yeh’s head came off. Blood and gore splashed out, coating the floor and the attacker with blood. Yen’s body and head fell uselessly to the floor, while Kuwabara landed a little clumsily next to the mess.

“Fucker...” Kuwabara muttered, spitting blood from his mouth, and blinking against the blood that trickled down his face in rivers.

Kurama ran forward pressing his shoulder and body against Kuwabara so that the human could lean against him, “You attacked early...we were supposed to wait for the explosion!”

Kuwabara grunted in acknowledgment and leaned heavily against Kurama. Kuwabara’s legs were shaking and he was clearly losing strength.

“I’m sorry...I know it was early...but I was really beginning to pass out!”

Kurama lowered himself to his knees, Kuwabara following with. When Kuwabara was close enough to the ground he pitched forward and caught himself with his arms. Groaning he lowered himself to the ground and lay there in the blood of their defeated enemy, muttering in disgust.

“I knew those demons roughed you up too much! I can’t believe we went with Hiei’s stupid plan!” Kurama muttered, eyes looking over Kuwabara’s injuries with a keen eye. He flexed his fingers in irritation, knowing he could not actually help Kuwabara until the chains were actually removed.

“It was the only thing to do Kurama! With Yen stalking you, it was a matter of time before he caught you, or your mom-or hell your whole family! He was really out to get you! We’re lucky Hiei found out about his idea to get you, and that Murkuro knew enough about the slave market to know you and me would be a high commodity...” Kuwabara sighed. He made a  grunting sound and rolled over onto his back, blood completely soaked into his shirt.

Kuwabara frowned deeper, “This is so gross but I'm too exhausted to move...I’m going to make Hiei and Yusuke bathe me as punishment for taking so damn long!”

Kurama sighed, straining uselessly against his chains for a moment, “This plan had too many risks. We didn’t account for these chains. I was much more useless than I thought. And you were so quiet and still...I really thought you were knocked out...”

Kuwabara sighed closing his eyes, a coy smile tugging at his lips, “Well...I’ve faked my death before...”

Kurama chuckled, “Well you shouldn’t be so damn good at it!”

As the two shared a moment of dark humor, the building shook from a violent explosion that was taking place a few floors down.

“There they are...” Kurama sighed, tension unwinding from his shoulders, “Late.”

Kuwabara snorted, “As usual. Bet you ten dollars Urameshi’s gonna scream for me.”

Kurama opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Yusuke’s angry and concerned voice echoed from downstairs, “KUWABARA!!”

Kurama’s mouth hung open and he looked to Kuwabara who still had his eyes closed. Kuwabara’s mouth split into a wide grin, “Told ya. Now, wait until he sees me covered in all this blood! He’ll really scream then!”

There was a moment of silence, and then Kurama devolved into ugly wheezing laughter.

By the time Yusuke and Hiei had kicked down the door, Kurama was lying on his side choking from his fit of unexpected giggles. With the pair covered in blood and Kuwabara lying next to a decapitated body...it must have been some sight.

END

[kneesheee]

The Teenage Kingpin

|five|

The next day during lunch Emerald and the other kingpin members walked in to a dead silent cafeteria. They didn’t notice exactly what had everyone so quiet until Sweet Pea and Sapphire were both snarling as they stormed to the back of cafeteria towards their section.

Emerald jumped little Because she wasn’t expecting it, but she was also not expecting the first she saw was Sapphire throwing her fist out and Joaquin barely making it in time to stop her.

Because sitting in their section. At their table. As if they owned it. As if they had any right there was Cheryl, Betty, and Veronica.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” Emerald snapped before she had time to think. “This is the serpent section.”

The three northsiders sat up straighter and the tension in the air crackled like lighting especially when Emerald caught sight of her notebook sticking out of Veronica’s bag. She was moving before she aware of it her hand easily ripping her book from the bag and swinging the notebook at the girl’s face. It was only because of Fangs’ suddenly grabbing her wrist did it not connect.

“You can’t sit here. Its Serpent territory. And this is the Kingpin table,” Jughead question. His head tilted to the side a little bit, and Emerald immediately took notice of how Betty stared at him with heart eyes.

Cheryl sat forward with a small smirk on her face as her eyes raked up and down Sweet Pea and Toni’s bodies. She felt the anger pooling from Sapphire.

“We just thought that since we’re becoming Serpents that we should be able to sit here,” the ginger stated, and Emerald couldn’t stop the scoff from leaving her mouth.

“Becoming serpents. Which means you aren’t a serpent at the moment which also means get the hell out,” she snapped. Sapphire snapped her fingers and three members from her den came forth and picked the girl’s up before carrying them to outside of the Serpent gate and closing it behind them.

Emerald watched as Sapphire pulled wipes out her bag before scrubbing down the seats muttering, “Fucking Northside germs.”

Once she was finished, all of them sat down. Sweet Pea immediately pulled his girlfriend into his side muttering quietly into her ear.

“Didn’t you have something to tell us, sis,” Joaquin asked trying to distract the girl. Sapphire perked up before looking at each of them. “Yeah, I decided to host a back to school pool party at the manor. Everyone’s invited. Except the ghoulies. I don’t trust them to not steal anything.”

“I’m in,” Sweet Pea stated immediately, and Toni echoed the statement.

“Same,” Emerald shrugged and Jughead nodded his head along. Fangs smiled and nodded. Sapphire leaned her head onto Sweet Peas shoulder and breathed heavily out of her nose.

“Ugh, I’m going to have to treat myself to something nice after all of this stress,” the girl groaned in frustration. “A nice Fabergé egg should do the trick.”

They all chuckled before she motioned for Nathan to walk over to the table. “Nathy, be a dear and spread word that I’m hosting a pool party a Stone Manor. Give it to our usual informants.”

The boy nodded his head obediently before turning to leave out of the section and making his rounds around the cafeteria. -- Two nights later, Emerald and the other girls stood before Veronica in her bedroom. The girl was fast asleep. Sapphire cast a glance around the room behind her mask. She took in everything and nodded her head approvingly. It was nice. A little vintage yet modern.

Toni walked forward and carefully taped the girl’s mouth shut while Sapphire put a calming hand on Emerald’s shoulder. Toni tapped the girl on the shoulder to wake her up and Veronica nearly sprang out the bed before realizing that she had tape on her mouth.

Sapphire doubled over laughing this time unable to help herself.

The girl mumbled something behind the tape, Toni just shrugged, “Your initiation begins now. With assuming guardianship of the beast.”

Emerald let Hotdog go and the dog jumped into Veronica’s bed as the Gems disappeared out of her bedroom and out of her apartment. -- It was the day of Sapphire’s pool party and the Kingpin was and her den were already at Stone Manor setting up.

Emerald was feeling absolutely attacked.

She had been minding her business. She had her headphones in her ears as she fixed the decorative plates of fruits.

Emerald hadn’t expected the feeling of someone’s gaze trailing over her body.

The way her body stood on edge and curled as their looks intensified seemingly trying to burn through the coverup that she was wearing over her swimsuit. She slowly rose her eyes from the plate of food in front of her and stood frozen at the sight of Fangs.

He stared at her like a predator and she was the prey. The look in his eyes were of deep want and Emerald could only think Finally. He was looking at her the way she had been wanting to for years every since they were younger, and he let her play kickball with him and some of other boys even though they hadn’t previously wanted her to play.

Her eyes trailed over his body slowly. She took in the sight of the way his swim shorts hung dangerously low on his hips and the smooth curve of his v-line. The trail of dark and wavy hair lining his navel and as her eyes trailed further up taking in each ab that graced his body. She made it to his biceps and she couldn’t help but to imagine the way they would fit seamless around her as he held her in his arms. She noticed his serpent tattoo and she suddenly had the need to trace over it with her tongue. Her eyes continued moving upward as she watched as his Adam’s apple bobble as he swallowed before she dragged her gaze to his face. A smirk pulled at his lips and when she finally made her way to his eyes, she noticed him only a second behind her.

“You look absolutely beautiful, Emmy,” he stated with a rough voice and the sound traveled right through her. A small smirk pulled at her lips, “Thank you, Pup. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

You look delicious.

He walked over towards her casually stealing some grapes off a tray and with each step, Emerald felt her heart having palpations. Right as he came to stand in front of her, a cough broke the moment and they turned to see Sweet Pea standing there with a knowing smirk.

“Don’t mind me. Saph just asked me to bring the food out,” he said raising his hands innocently and grabbing one of the trays she had been previously working on. “You can carry on with the sexual tension.”

That little shit.

Fangs laughed slightly and took a step back before grabbing a tray of food and following behind the other boy. Emerald groaned before turning towards the faucet and splashing water on her face. She stood there glaring at the sink for a few more minutes throwing smiles on her face whenever someone from Sapphire’s den entered the room before she heard the tell-tale sign of Sapphire starting up her music playlist and cars pulling into the driveway.

Emerald stood up straight and mustered every ounce of confidence she had.

She walked out towards the back patio where the rest of the kingpin were standing as people were led to the area. She watched as Sapphire lounged uncaringly one of lounge chairs sunbathing. Her hair had been braided and she wore her favor pair of sunglasses.

They were Frozen merchandise and Sweet Pea had bought them for her just because she said she liked the movie. She takes great care of them and Sweet Pea always gets this shy smile on his face whenever he sees her in them.

Emerald took a seat on one of the lounge chairs pulling her shades from the top of her hair and over her eyes. Her gaze flickered around the students and she realized that it’d be the same kind of pool party she was used to. -- She didn’t notice she had almost fell asleep until she heard the unmistakable sound of Sapphire and Toni’s voices snapping. She didn’t notice until she felt the darkness in her fellow kingpin members pulling at her and awaken that part of her.

She sat up slowly covering her yawn with her hand. She looked around trying to see what had caught the attention of her gem sisters until she saw the unmissable presence of the Northsiders walking into Sapphire’s back yard.

“What the hell are they doing here,” Sapphire growled. Emerald’s eyes trailed over every one of them though she did take her time to look over that goddamn beautiful raven-haired model like boy. He was gorgeous. He looked like an idiot, but damn was he fine.

“Did he invite them,” Toni gasped in disbelief and Emerald’s brow furrowed until her mouth dropped open in sight of Fangs conversing with Veronica. She watched as the two shared a hug and the girl giving a kiss on the cheek and the smile he gave her back.

Did he invite them? Did he invite her?

She thought back to their moment in the kitchen and she couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. As if Fangs would ever like her in that.

She remembered his words from the Northsiders’ first day.

You’re the only girl for me, Emmy.

Yeah fucking right.

Emerald stood up abruptly turning to walk into the house. She didn’t want to see that. She need to get herself together before she went back out there. She took a deep breath as she leaned against the wall.

She was so stupid. Fangs would never like her as more than a friend. She was just another member to Kingpin to him. Another serpent. Nothing more and it was time she realized that.

Her mind flickered back to the raven-haired boy standing out there and she thought if there was any way to get over Fangs, then he’d be the perfect one.

She took a few more deep breaths to calm her nerves before she once again walked out onto the patio. Her fellow kingpin members were clenching their fists in confusion and anger as Fangs’ conversed with the Northsiders. She stood behind them a little and noticed Jughead had moved over towards them talking to the boy from his childhood, but Emerald stopped paying that any mind.

She walked forward until she was standing on the other side of Toni looking through the throngs of people before she noticed the boy standing over by the food table that had been set up. She smirked slightly before she pulled her coverup from her body.

“Ems,” Toni questioned but Emerald ignored her. She pulled her hair out of her ponytail as she slowly made her way over to the boy. Her hips swung slightly and leisurely drawing attention from those in the crowd.

She noticed the exact moment the boy turned to look at her and a smirk pulled on her lips as he blatantly checked her out. She noticed immediately how his body reacted to her. The way his body slowly tensed and his eyes darkened. How he swallowed thickly at the sight of her. But what made it better was the look on his face when he realizes that she was heading for him.

He managed to keep his cool as she finally stopped in front of him and she titled her head up just a little. “Hello, darling,” she purred. “I’m Emerald. But the better question is who are you?”

Sapphire and Toni watched from the patio as Emerald and the Northsider converse flirting for all to see and despite their frustration about the Northsiders being there, the two girls couldn’t help but to laugh.

It seemed like Emerald had gotten tired of chasing after her Pup and decided to shine like the gemstone she was.

"Did you really think you could have a party without inviting moi?" Sapphire heard. She blinked, and Cheryl was standing in front of her patio making the move to come up there. Sapphire tilted her head to the side and her den immediately blocked it.

Sapphire smirked softly, “I did, and I can. I’ve had plenty without sending an invitation to the Blossoms and I’ll have plenty more. The fact that Emerald is flirting with the Bulldog over there is the only reason you all aren’t getting literally throw out.”

Cheryl opened her mouth, but Sapphire’s features dropped into a scowl, “Cheryl, walk away now before I throw you into the pool.”

The girl huffed as Sapphire slid back down into her lounge chair. Cheryl’s eyes slid over to the tallest boy still standing on the patio and she leaned forward a little. “Hello, handsome.”

Emerald whipped around from her conversation with the boy Reggie as she felt the shift in the air. She barely manages to yell, “Saph!” before the girl in question had leaped through her den and pushed Cheryl into the pool.

As the redhead came back up for air, Sapphire glared down darkly at her. “Let me make one thing fucking clear, Sweet Pea is off limits. The next person to flirt with MY boyfriend well have a nice date with my fist, do I make myself clear?”

Furious nods erupted from the Southsiders attending the party and even some of the Northsiders, but Sapphire only had eyes for the girl in the pool.

Cheryl lips pulled into a smirk, “Are you honestly worried that I’d win him over?”

Sapphire’s eyes lit up in anger, “He’s not a prize to be won, Blossom.” Sweet Pea calmly walked over to his girlfriend and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Besides, Sapphire? She’s it for me and I would never leave her especially not for you.”

Everyone got a clear view of Saph. Not Sapphire Stone. Not Sapphire, the Southside Gem and Member of the Kingpin. Definitely not Phire, a Southside Princess.

Just sweet and simple Saph who’s completely and irrevocably in love with Sweet Pea and the clear adoration is on her face as she looks up at him. She grabs onto his hands and the two walk back onto the patio.

Emerald smiled at the sight before she turned back to the boy Reggie, “Now, back to this conversation about how the Broncos are better than the Cowboys…” -- It was long after the party ended and Emerald feeling incredibly satisfied about getting Reggie’s number. She and the others had got into the pool. Well it was more like Sapphire and Toni had come over to the food table and spoke pleasantries with Reggie when their boyfriends ran over and picked them up and threw them into the pools. A loud scream erupted from their mouths as they hit the water.

Emerald tensed and looked around to make sure neither of the other kingpin members got her.

She should’ve been looking out for Reggie.

The boy wrapped his arms around her and cannonballed into the pool with her.

When she emerged from the water, she playfully glared at the boy. He smiled innocently at her before starting a splash war.

“Someone look like they had a good time,” she jumped about a mile in the air before she turned and saw Fangs who, like her, had washed up and changed into his night clothes.

Her heart fluttered at the sight of him before she remembered how close he was with the Northsider. A flash of anger overcame her before she pushed it away. A part of her had always knew that Fangs’ would never see her that way, so she had no reason to be mad.

“I did,” she replied nodding her head cordially. Something lashed across his expression before he smoothed his features. Emerald huffed quietly to herself before turning to go back to her room.

But then, Fangs grabbed onto her arm and turned her around. Before she even had time to blink his lips were on hers and her eyes were slipping closed.

|one| |two| |three| |four|

[goldenponcho]

Battle for Neverland: Chapter 1

Next chapter

So this is a Fox’s Peter Pan and the Pirates fic I’ve been writing and rewriting for literally ten years. I know there’s hardly a fandom for the series anymore, but I think Peter Pan and especially Captain Hook fans of any iteration might enjoy it. I will warn for prominent OCs, so if you’re not into that, that’s cool. I’ll probably post a chapter a day until I’m caught up to where I am now.

The Captain was tired. Strong limbs felt as if they were moving against a current, slave to the rough waters of the very hurricane that had doomed him to this island. Why did he feel so weak? So… Old. His head throbbed when he heard the crow. That insufferable crow… Never had anything grated his nerves like that horrendous sound. “You aren’t even putting up a fight today, old man!” Except for the urchin that horrendous sound came from. Captain Hook strained to shake the fog in his mind, “You’ll not be wanting for a fight when I’m done with you, brat!” Despite the clear anger, he could hear the fatigue in his own voice, and he hated it. Peter Pan cackled, kicking over a bucket of soap water set out on the deck before flying several circles around the Captain, dodging the blows of his sword with ease and swooped back across the deck. Hook snarled, dragging himself toward the gloating boy. He caught his reflection from the corner of his eye, and his stomach dropped. His skin sagged from startlingly gaunt features. Dark bags drooped beneath his tired eyes, and extra skin hung from a thin neck. How long had he been like this? “Feeling a little inadequate, Captain?!” The boy was directly behind him, “Understandable when you have to compete with me!” His frustration redirected at Peter, he hacked wildly, muscles straining to lift his heavy sword. This couldn’t be happening. Had senescence crept upon him so suddenly? To further drive home his helplessness, Peter hovered well within a sword’s reach of the Captain, easily evading his pitiful attacks. Peter made a show of yawning loudly, “I’m bored, Codfish…I think this game is over.” Hook was barley able to get his bearings before Peter had kicked him in the back of the head, sending him toppling off the plank that he had somehow suddenly been standing on. Absolute terror overtook him as he careened head first toward an open set of jaws, and he heard Pan’s crow before the tearing of flesh and bone. Captain Hook’s heart pounded as he jolted awake. It took him a moment to realize he had been dreaming. His breath heaved as he tried to calm himself, at the same time noticing that he and his sheets were covered in a layer of sweat. Heart still hammering, he reached up to feel that his face was not the frail, thin one he had seen in his dream. He held his remaining hand in front of his face, relieved that it as well was still healthy and strong. Relief didn’t last long as another crow rang from outside his cabin. Captain Hook groaned, “Peter Pan…” he spat, disgusted by the taste the boy’s name left in his mouth. He sprang from the silken sheets of his bed and put on his many layers of clothing at an impossible speed, hastily splashing water onto his face from the washbowl on the mahogany table set across from the foot of his bed. He stormed out of his cabin, gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white beneath his glove. “Ready Long Tom, you dogs!!! And blast that accursed boy to kingdom come!!” The crew of the Jolly Roger bounded across the deck, not daring to hesitate at their Captain’s orders. “I’m not exactly sure where kingdom come is,” Peter Pan laughed, hovering just a touch out of Hook’s reach, “but it’ll take more than the likes of you to blast me there, Captain Kipper!” “Gall and brimstone!” Hook clawed at him angrily, “Your day will come soon, Pan! By Queen Anne’s Revenge, I swear it will!!” Peter Pan chuckled playfully, taking a reclining position in the air, “You shouldn’t swear to promises you can’t keep, Admiral Anchovy. Not very gentlemanly of you!” “Perhaps you’d like a pirate rather than a gentleman, you puerile little urchin! FIRE!!” Billy Jukes smirked, lighting Long Tom’s fuse and the cannon fired, just barely missing Pan’s head as he ducked at the last second. “Reload, Mr. Jukes, and SHOOT ME THAT WRETCHED WHELP!!” “There ‘e goes, Jukes!” Mason bellowed, pushing Long Tom around with little effort. He grabbed the torch from the young gunner before he could protest and lit the fuse. “NO, Alf Mason!” Jukes cried, “It’s aimed right at—” Splinters of wood darted over the ship as the mast crashed to the deck, crushing several barrels as it landed. “Have fun cleaning that up, Codfish!!” Peter laughed as he flew toward shore and out of sight. Hook snarled, burying his sword furiously in the fallen mainmast then glancing over to his crew, who were staring dumbfounded at Peter’s shrinking form, “Stop yer gaping, you miserable mullie-morts!! Fix that mast before I plunge this into your gizzards!!” he flashed his hook toward them, and his men scattered, knowing better than to upset the captain when he was in such a foul mood. “Aye, Pan,” Hook hissed, plucking his sword from the mast as if it were nothing more than a flower petal, “it matters not how many times you escape me. It will make it all the sweeter when I finally rend ye in two.” ~*~*~*~ “Ha ha haa! Did you see the look on their faces, Tink?” Peter Pan darted in and out of the narrow spaces between the trees of the thick Neverforest, “I thought Hook was gonna explode! His face turned three shades of purple when that mast fell!” “Sure, Peter,” Tinkerbell yawned, lagging behind him a bit, “I just want to get back home and go to bed.” “Go to bed?!! But, Tink, we’re just getting started! I’ve got so many more pranks to pull on ol’ Codfish today, and I need you for all of them!” “Tin tops and copper bottoms, Peter! First, we almost get gobbled up by O'Look, then we almost get trampled by Never-Beasts… We’ve been up all night! Don’t you think knocking down the mast is enough for one day?!” Peter laughed as if what Tink had just said was the most absurd thing he had ever heard, “Of course not, Tink!! You know we can’t let Codfish go the whole rest of the day without a few more inconveniences!” Peter sped up, quickly disappearing into the trees, “Now let’s go! We don’t have much time!” “Peter!” Tink sighed, “…oh! That boy will be my undoing!” ~*~*~*~ By noon, the Jolly Roger’s mast was almost completely repaired, mostly due to Hook’s threat of sixty lashes to anyone caught lollygagging. Hook now patrolled the deck, a predatory glint in his forget-me-not eyes. His rage at the boy reignited the frustration at the dream-Pan from that morning, and in turn stoked the anger at the real Pan even further. The boy would never see the day that Hook was too run down to put up a proper fight. One of them would die first. “Robert Mullins!” he called up to the newly erected crow’s nest, “Any sign of those air-born blighters?” “None yet, Cap'n!” Mullins answered, “That island’s been as dead as the River Styx! Suspicious, I’d say!” “Let the brat plot his plots…” the Captain growled with a glower, “One of them is bound to land him belly-side down on my hook.” ~*~*~*~ "Peter, this is ridiculous!” Tink complained through a yawn, “I do not want to do this!” “Oh, come on, Tink! It’ll be easy!” Peter handed her a tiny blue sack only about the size of a ping-pong ball, “All you have to do is drop these into Hook’s supper! Just a few of these will make even the most appetizing food taste like pond scum.” “That isn’t nice, Peter Pan!” Peter turned with a frown toward Wendy, who now stood at the entrance to the chute that led outside, “Not nice at all!!” “Oh come on, Wendy,” Peter replied cheerfully, “since when was I ever nice to Hook?” “Those could make Captain Hook sick!” she said, hands on her hips, “Then he wouldn’t feel like fighting with you anymore.” “Oh, they won’t make him sick! At least, not for any longer than a few hours…” Peter chuckled, “Besides, a little stomach ache never hurt anybody that bad.” “Well you had best be careful. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to Tink… or to Hook, for that matter.” “Hook?!” Peter chuckled, “Why should I care what happens to Hook?!!” “Oh, admit it, Peter. You don’t really want anything that bad to happen to him. Then who would you fight?” “That’s true,” he said thoughtfully, “If I’m going to kill Hook, there are much more fun ways to do it than by poisoning him.” Wendy sighed, rolling her eyes, but she decided against pressing the matter further. “Besides,” Peter explained plucking one of the tiny green balls from Tink’s pouch, “these aren’t poisonous; it’s only filled with Neverswamp water.” Tink sighed, “If I do this, can I please go to bed?” “Of course, Tink,” Peter said apathetically. “Fine, then. I’m going,” Tink said quickly as she tied the bag shut and flew hastily from the Underground House. ~*~*~*~ Tinkerbell peeked from over the side of the Jolly Roger to the scattering of pirates on board. Mullins and Mason were reclined in coils of rope, Billy Jukes lied fast asleep on his stomach atop Long Tom, and Starkey sat at the other end of the ship, lazily picking at his fingernails with the tip of his rapier. “Alright,” she yawned, “now to get this over with so I can get some sleep.” She took one last glance across the deck, then darted through the rigging and down to the hatch that led below, peeking through a crack between the planks of wood. Cookson’s voice echoed through the hall beneath her as Tink spotted him carrying a large bowl of scraps up the stairs from the galley. She quickly darted behind a barrel just as the old Greek sea chef hobbled out the door singing something badly at the top of his lungs, Tink couldn’t tell exactly what. As soon as she was sure he was far enough away, she fluttered below decks and into the galley. She began rummaging through the numerous pots and pans strewn across the counter, first coming to a large pot filled to the brim with something viscous and green. The thick film that had formed on the top made it look very much like the scales of the Croc. Tink took a great whiff of the substance and retched. “Ugh!! That’s definitely the crew’s food. How anyone can stomach this filth every day is beyond me!” Tink quickly placed the lid back over the offending contents and continued exploring the other pots and pans, coming across several other undesirable dishes, until she came upon another pot of soup. This soup was a creamy, almost white color, and its smell was relatively tolerable compared to the other dishes. “This has to be Hook’s supper; it at least bears a resemblance to food.” But before Tink could finish the job, she heard the creaking of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and Cookson’s off-key singing. She yelped and ducked into a large, empty cabinet that sat on the floor next to the counter, “I’ll never get out of here now!” She sat for a moment, her head resting in the palms of her hands, “Great… how will I—OH!” she sat up with a start and plunged her hand into the bag she carried at her side, a puff of glittery powder floating from the brim, and retrieved a handful of the shimmering particles, “I almost forgot about the special dust I got at Small Monday Island yesterday!” She tossed the purple and blue dust in front of her, and it sparkled in the dark cabinet, then glistened white and grew into a small, round opening in thin air just big enough for her to fit into. Daylight shone in from the other side. “Peter will have to come up with some other prank,” Tink mumbled, “I’m going home and getting some rest.”

[kourabiedes]

Daughters - A Fresh Precure Fanfic

Prompt: Momozono Ayumi muses on her daughters  –  the one she bore, and the one she adopted.

(under the cut)

On Clover Town Street, miracles can happen.

I grew up on this very street.  My father made tatami here for many years, and his father before him.  My husband and I didn't follow in their footsteps, but my father never seemed to mind much.  It was enough for him that we were here and happy, and that we would continue on when he was gone in happiness and peace.  Here are the people I grew up with, the shop-keepers and their families, and a few faces that have washed up here by the tides of life.  The young model, seeking her own corner of peace.  The family struggling to find its footing.  The lost child, alone and adrift in an unfamiliar world.  All of them found their miracles here.

As did I.  Keitarou and I wanted a child so very much, but years would pass before our prayers were answered.  The doctor told us to prepare for a son, but my daughter has always been contrary.  We  weren't prepared for her.  I remember scrambling for a name  –  any name. Luckily, Father had his own thoughts on the matter.  None of us knew then how appropriate a name like Love would be for her.  She sometimes seemed like a bundle of endless energy  –  forever exploring, getting into everything.  The cabinets in the house still bear the marks of the child-locks we had to install for her.  I never had to worry about her being bored, though.  Ours was not the only small miracle on Clover Town Street that year.

A few years before Love was born, I made a very unlikely friend.  The salon up the street had been owned by various families for years, but none had managed to make the place work.  So when I saw yet another re-opening sign, I was a little skeptical.  It didn't take long for the word to spread about the new salon owner, however; Aono Remi was very well-known as a model.  Naturally, I had to investigate.  Remi had already been somewhat mobbed, and met me with some reserve.  But if there's one thing I pride myself on, it's how easily I can put people at ease.

Poor Remi.  Her husband wasn't around much, and she had been left to her own devices in an unknown city.  She had a flair for the dramatic and that weight of personality that often made people wary of her.  Was it any wonder she was lonely?  Underneath her airs was a soft-hearted young woman I could see peering out at me, and I was determined to reach her.  We became fast friends, and I often found myself stopping over at her salon after work just to chat about everything and nothing.

About a year later, another old storefront saw a facelift.  The Yamabukis had tried three times before to open a veterinary clinic in other towns, but despite Tadashi's skill at the practice, his lack of experience had brought them low each time.  Thus we were told by his wife, Naoko, when Remi and I decided on a whim to visit them.  Naoko was gentle, but underneath her soft eyes was steel.  She is stronger than even she knows, I think, because even then she had not given up hope.  She believed that they would come through.  I'm so very glad to have met her.

It was we three who were pregnant around the same time.  Three friends. Three little girls.  I think we all hoped they would be friends as well, but I know I, at least, never expected the bond that sprang up between them from day one.  Love and Miki both had intense personalities, and were always in and out of trouble together.  The only person who seemed able to mediate between them and keep them mostly out of trouble was Inori.  Where you saw one, there the other two would be.  The Clover Town Musketeers, Remi once called them. Even when they grew older, and we sent them off to different schools, you still hardly saw them without each other.  They had other friends, certainly  –  Love, in particular, seemed to make friends as easily as breathing  –  but they always had each other.

Sometimes I wonder how I could have possibly missed that they were the three Pretty Cure.  Tall, beautiful Cure Berry, graceful and elegant even mid-combat; small, dogged Cure Pine, tenacious even if not powerful; and, of course, the ringleader, the girl who seemed able to drag a victory out of even the harshest defeat, Cure Peach.  My Love, the miracle-worker, the cheerful light in my life, bringing that same light to a world turned upside-down.  It seems terribly obvious in hindsight.  In hindsight, too, I'm so very proud of her.  My Love may not be the cleverest, or most talented, but she saved the world at least once that I know about.  How many mothers can say that?

Keitarou and I always wanted another child, truth be told.  We dreamed of a little sister (or perhaps brother) for Love almost from the moment the latter was walking.  We tried many times, and once or twice, it seemed like she was on her way, but it never took.  We finally gave up, at least openly, but secretly...  Secretly I always held on to the idea that she was just coming a little later.  Just a little longer...

Overlooking Clover Town Street, there's a tall hill covered in clover patches. We used to play there as children, and our children played there.  It gives a wonderful view of the whole of Yotsuba, including our street, and the path over it connects some of the town's most popular locations.  It was on one of my frequent walks over this hill that I saw her for the first time, sitting between the clover patches.

She didn't look any older than my Love, dressed simply, gazing over the town with her arms wrapped around her knees.  She could have been any number of girls her age I saw on this hill almost daily  –  most teenagers here have had at least once instance of sitting alone on The Hill, thinking about things that matter so very much to them. Even I did it once or twice.  And she wouldn't have been the first I considered stopping to speak to, either.  What made her different was the pain that radiated off of her.  It was apparent in the slump of her shoulders, in the bowed neck, in her almost limp arms.  This was the pain of someone laboring under an enormous burden, the kind of weight that sends hardened, experienced adults to their knees.

I stopped.  I went to her.  I sat with her.  The eyes she turned on me were heavy, almost dead.  Yet, as before when I went to meet Remi, I saw something else peering out at me from behind the long dark lashes.  Once, when I was younger, I met a stray cat who was starved not just for food, but for affection  –  and yet was frightened of taking that step toward me, that step that might end in more pain for it.  It was that same feral fear that lurked there in her dark eyes.

I told her to come to Clover Town Street, because she might yet find what she needed there.  For a brief moment, those eyes flickered, before darkening as she looked away.

Love had been strange for a couple days by then  –  and not just Love, but Miki and Inori too.  I thought I knew what was wrong then.  Love had spent the day with her friends at the Trinity concert, which had been the site of a fairly large attack.  I didn't have long to worry, though, because she came home barely fifteen minutes after Remi had called to tell me about the attack.  But she was changed from the cheerful girl that had left  –  listless, wide-eyed, and jumpy, she retreated upstairs at the first opportunity and refused to talk to either of us beyond reassuring us that she wasn't hurt.  At the time, I assumed she had simply been stunned by the attack itself, but knowing Love, she would be all right soon enough.

Then she didn't come down for dinner.  Or breakfast.  She refused to answer the door when I went to check on her.  It was so very unlike her, but something Keitarou had said made me wonder.  Love had been spending far more time than was usual out of the house until late hours.  She came home giddy sometimes, eyes sparkling, a boundless bundle of energy even for her.  Keitarou had joked one night that, given the pattern she was showing, we should be ready to welcome a boyfriend soon.  I scoffed at the notion at the time.  Love was not a secretive child, and the idea that she might keep something like that from us was laughable.  But now... now her behavior fit the pattern for heartbreak better than anything else I knew.

Before I could really process that thought, Miki and Inori came by, and they too were not themselves.  Miki was the spitting image of her mother at her most intense as she stormed up the stairs.  She'd never been like that before, and I watched her go by with surprise.  I heard the door upstairs open, then, moments later, something I had never before heard.

Miki and Love were arguing, with real anger in their voices.

Before I could process that, they were back down the stairs  – Love first, rushing past me and out into the street, then Miki and Inori behind her.  I didn't see any of them again until much later in the day.

Love was still not herself that night, clearly preoccupied, but at least she and Miki seemed on good terms again  –  the three girls were together that night, retreating into Love's room again.  Something had happened, that much was clear, and by now I was starting to grow very concerned.  Love usually bounced back so rapidly  –  this continued behavior was very uncharacteristic.  Maybe that was what was on my mind when I was out on The Hill with the mysterious, red-eyed girl, the desire to help my Love in some way.  It's certainly why I was so preoccupied between there and home.  I had just about made up my mind to talk to Love when I opened the door and almost ran right into her.

Love was more herself in that moment than she'd been in days.  She told a story of a friend with no family who needed a safe haven, and it was almost convincing.  But Love is not a good liar, nor is she good at concealing her inner thoughts.  She was holding back something about this friend, something important, and I realized suddenly that it almost had to be connected to whatever had been making her act so strangely.  It was nothing concrete, just a feeling, but I was certain that it was somehow true.  So much of it was pure Love, though  –  this someone might be connected to her sudden depression, and they might be concealing some secret, but Love genuinely thought her friend needed help and would push to get it.

I agreed to meet her friend.  Love did, after all, get that nature from somewhere.

The leap of intuition that had visited me when talking to Love did not extend to her friend's appearance when Love arrived, breathless, with her in tow.  I recognized the girl from The Hill instantly, with those dark, wary eyes flicking between me and Keitarou and back to Love, as though she was waiting for something to happen.

Setsuna. A lonely name for a lonely girl.  My heart went out to her almost as soon as we sat down, because the poor thing clearly had no idea what was happening or how to behave.  Love had mentioned her having no family, and at the time I'd wondered if she was trying to bring in a runaway, but now I wondered if she'd ever had one.  Who had left this poor girl alone in the world?  I glanced at Keitarou, and from the expression on his face, he'd come to the same conclusion.

When I met that stray cat, it was remarkable how quickly its expressions changed when it saw me  –  from wariness, to wistfulness, in a slow progression.  I watched the same change work its way through Setsuna's eyes, perhaps a little more quickly.  Love kept glancing at us as though gauging our reactions to her friend.  She needn't have worried.  I know I'd already decided to help the girl about fifteen minutes into dinner.

Poor lonely girl, she cried when we told her she could stay.  She cried, and Love beamed, and if there was an undercurrent between them that suggested my earlier guess about her involvement in Love's recent troubles was entirely correct, well, I would trust Love to handle it herself.

She came to us after all, just a little late.

[readbookywooks]

THE red glare of the torch, lighting up the interior of the block house, showed me the worst of my apprehensions realized. The pirates were in possession of the house and stores: there was the cask of cognac, there were the pork and bread, as before, and what tenfold increased my horror, not a sign of any prisoner. I could only judge that all had perished, and my heart smote me sorely that I had not been there to perish with them. There were six of the buccaneers, all told; not another man was left alive. Five of them were on their feet, flushed and swollen, suddenly called out of the first sleep of drunkenness. The sixth had only risen upon his elbow; he was deadly pale, and the blood-stained bandage round his head told that he had recently been wounded, and still more recently dressed. I remembered the man who had been shot and had run back among the woods in the great attack, and doubted not that this was he. The parrot sat, preening her plumage, on Long John's shoulder. He himself, I thought, looked somewhat paler and more stern than I was used to. He still wore the fine broadcloth suit in which he had fulfilled his mission, but it was bitterly the worse for wear, daubed with clay and torn with the sharp briers of the wood. "So," said he, "here's Jim Hawkins, shiver my timbers! Dropped in, like, eh? Well, come, I take that friendly." And thereupon he sat down across the brandy cask and began to fill a pipe. "Give me a loan of the link, Dick," said he; and then, when he had a good light, "That'll do, lad," he added; "stick the glim in the wood heap; and you, gentlemen, bring yourselves to! You needn't stand up for Mr. Hawkins; HE'LL excuse you, you may lay to that. And so, Jim" - stopping the tobacco - "here you were, and quite a pleasant surprise for poor old John. I see you were smart when first I set my eyes on you, but this here gets away from me clean, it do." To all this, as may be well supposed, I made no answer. They had set me with my back against the wall, and I stood there, looking Silver in the face, pluckily enough, I hope, to all outward appearance, but with black despair in my heart. Silver took a whiff or two of his pipe with great composure and then ran on again. "Now, you see, Jim, so be as you ARE here," says he, "I'll give you a piece of my mind. I've always liked you, I have, for a lad of spirit, and the picter of my own self when I was young and handsome. I always wanted you to jine and take your share, and die a gentleman, and now, my cock, you've got to. Cap'n Smollett's a fine seaman, as I'll own up to any day, but stiff on discipline. 'Dooty is dooty,' says he, and right he is. Just you keep clear of the cap'n. The doctor himself is gone dead again you - 'ungrateful scamp' was what he said; and the short and the long of the whole story is about here: you can't go back to your own lot, for they won't have you; and without you start a third ship's company all by yourself, which might be lonely, you'll have to jine with Cap'n Silver." So far so good. My friends, then, were still alive, and though I partly believed the truth of Silver's statement, that the cabin party were incensed at me for my desertion, I was more relieved than distressed by what I heard. "I don't say nothing as to your being in our hands," continued Silver, "though there you are, and you may lay to it. I'm all for argyment; I never seen good come out o' threatening. If you like the service, well, you'll jine; and if you don't, Jim, why, you're free to answer no - free and welcome, shipmate; and if fairer can be said by mortal seaman, shiver my sides!" "Am I to answer, then?" I asked with a very tremulous voice. Through all this sneering talk, I was made to feel the threat of death that overhung me, and my cheeks burned and my heart beat painfully in my breast. "Lad," said Silver, "no one's a-pressing of you. Take your bearings. None of us won't hurry you, mate; time goes so pleasant in your company, you see." "Well," says I, growing a bit bolder, "if I'm to choose, I declare I have a right to know what's what, and why you're here, and where my friends are." "Wot's wot?" repeated one of the buccaneers in a deep growl. "Ah, he'd be a lucky one as knowed that!" "You'll perhaps batten down your hatches till you're spoke to, my friend," cried Silver truculently to this speaker. And then, in his first gracious tones, he replied to me, "Yesterday morning, Mr. Hawkins," said he, "in the dog-watch, down came Doctor Livesey with a flag of truce. Says he, 'Cap'n Silver, you're sold out. Ship's gone.' Well, maybe we'd been taking a glass, and a song to help it round. I won't say no. Leastways, none of us had looked out. We looked out, and by thunder, the old ship was gone! I never seen a pack o' fools look fishier; and you may lay to that, if I tells you that looked the fishiest. 'Well,' says the doctor, 'let's bargain.' We bargained, him and I, and here we are: stores, brandy, block house, the firewood you was thoughtful enough to cut, and in a manner of speaking, the whole blessed boat, from cross-trees to kelson. As for them, they've tramped; I don't know where's they are." He drew again quietly at his pipe. "And lest you should take it into that head of yours," he went on, "that you was included in the treaty, here's the last word that was said: 'How many are you,' says I, 'to leave?' 'Four,' says he; 'four, and one of us wounded. As for that boy, I don't know where he is, confound him,' says he, 'nor I don't much care. We're about sick of him.' These was his words. "Is that all?" I asked. "Well, it's all that you're to hear, my son," returned Silver. "And now I am to choose?" "And now you are to choose, and you may lay to that," said Silver. "Well," said I, "I am not such a fool but I know pretty well what I have to look for. Let the worst come to the worst, it's little I care. I've seen too many die since I fell in with you. But there's a thing or two I have to tell you," I said, and by this time I was quite excited; "and the first is this: here you are, in a bad way - ship lost, treasure lost, men lost, your whole business gone to wreck; and if you want to know who did it - it was I! I was in the apple barrel the night we sighted land, and I heard you, John, and you, Dick Johnson, and Hands, who is now at the bottom of the sea, and told every word you said before the hour was out. And as for the schooner, it was I who cut her cable, and it was I that killed the men you had aboard of her, and it was I who brought her where you'll never see her more, not one of you. The laugh's on my side; I've had the top of this business from the first; I no more fear you than I fear a fly. Kill me, if you please, or spare me. But one thing I'll say, and no more; if you spare me, bygones are bygones, and when you fellows are in court for piracy, I'll save you all I can. It is for you to choose. Kill another and do yourselves no good, or spare me and keep a witness to save you from the gallows." I stopped, for, I tell you, I was out of breath, and to my wonder, not a man of them moved, but all sat staring at me like as many sheep. And while they were still staring, I broke out again, "And now, Mr. Silver," I said, "I believe you're the best man here, and if things go to the worst, I'll take it kind of you to let the doctor know the way I took it." "I'll bear it in mind," said Silver with an accent so curious that I could not, for the life of me, decide whether he were laughing at my request or had been favourably affected by my courage. "I'll put one to that," cried the old mahogany-faced seaman - Morgan by name - whom I had seen in Long John's public-house upon the quays of Bristol. "It was him that knowed Black Dog." "Well, and see here," added the sea-cook. "I'll put another again to that, by thunder! For it was this same boy that faked the chart from Billy Bones. First and last, we've split upon Jim Hawkins!" "Then here goes!" said Morgan with an oath. And he sprang up, drawing his knife as if he had been twenty. "Avast, there!" cried Silver. "Who are you, Tom Morgan? Maybe you thought you was cap'n here, perhaps. By the powers, but I'll teach you better! Cross me, and you'll go where many a good man's gone before you, first and last, these thirty year back - some to the yard-arm, shiver my timbers, and some by the board, and all to feed the fishes. There's never a man looked me between the eyes and seen a good day a'terwards, Tom Morgan, you may lay to that." Morgan paused, but a hoarse murmur rose from the others. "Tom's right," said one. "I stood hazing long enough from one," added another. "I'll be hanged if I'll be hazed by you, John Silver." "Did any of you gentlemen want to have it out with ME?" roared Silver, bending far forward from his position on the keg, with his pipe still glowing in his right hand. "Put a name on what you're at; you ain't dumb, I reckon. Him that wants shall get it. Have I lived this many years, and a son of a rum puncheon cock his hat athwart my hawse at the latter end of it? You know the way; you're all gentlemen o' fortune, by your account. Well, I'm ready. Take a cutlass, him that dares, and I'll see the colour of his inside, crutch and all, before that pipe's empty." Not a man stirred; not a man answered. "That's your sort, is it?" he added, returning his pipe to his mouth. "Well, you're a gay lot to look at, anyway. Not much worth to fight, you ain't. P'r'aps you can understand King George's English. I'm cap'n here by 'lection. I'm cap'n here because I'm the best man by a long sea-mile. You won't fight, as gentlemen o' fortune should; then, by thunder, you'll obey, and you may lay to it! I like that boy, now; I never seen a better boy than that. He's more a man than any pair of rats of you in this here house, and what I say is this: let me see him that'll lay a hand on him - that's what I say, and you may lay to it." There was a long pause after this. I stood straight up against the wall, my heart still going like a sledgehammer, but with a ray of hope now shining in my bosom. Silver leant back against the wall, his arms crossed, his pipe in the corner of his mouth, as calm as though he had been in church; yet his eye kept wandering furtively, and he kept the tail of it on his unruly followers. They, on their part, drew gradually together towards the far end of the block house, and the low hiss of their whispering sounded in my ear continuously, like a stream. One after another, they would look up, and the red light of the torch would fall for a second on their nervous faces; but it was not towards me, it was towards Silver that they turned their eyes. "You seem to have a lot to say," remarked Silver, spitting far into the air. "Pipe up and let me hear it, or lay to." "Ax your pardon, sir," returned one of the men; "you're pretty free with some of the rules; maybe you'll kindly keep an eye upon the rest. This crew's dissatisfied; this crew don't vally bullying a marlin-spike; this crew has its rights like other crews, I'll make so free as that; and by your own rules, I take it we can talk together. I ax your pardon, sir, acknowledging you for to be captaing at this present; but I claim my right, and steps outside for a council." And with an elaborate sea-salute, this fellow, a long, ill-looking, yellow-eyed man of five and thirty, stepped coolly towards the door and disappeared out of the house. One after another the rest followed his example, each making a salute as he passed, each adding some apology. "According to rules," said one. "Forecastle council," said Morgan. And so with one remark or another all marched out and left Silver and me alone with the torch. The sea-cook instantly removed his pipe. "Now, look you here, Jim Hawkins," he said in a steady whisper that was no more than audible, "you're within half a plank of death, and what's a long sight worse, of torture. They're going to throw me off. But, you mark, I stand by you through thick and thin. I didn't mean to; no, not till you spoke up. I was about desperate to lose that much blunt, and be hanged into the bargain. But I see you was the right sort. I says to myself, you stand by Hawkins, John, and Hawkins'll stand by you. You're his last card, and by the living thunder, John, he's yours! Back to back, says I. You save your witness, and he'll save your neck!" I began dimly to understand. "You mean all's lost?" I asked. "Aye, by gum, I do!" he answered. "Ship gone, neck gone - that's the size of it. Once I looked into that bay, Jim Hawkins, and seen no schooner - well, I'm tough, but I gave out. As for that lot and their council, mark me, they're outright fools and cowards. I'll save your life - if so be as I can - from them. But, see here, Jim - tit for tat - you save Long John from swinging." I was bewildered; it seemed a thing so hopeless he was asking - he, the old buccaneer, the ringleader throughout. "What I can do, that I'll do," I said. "It's a bargain!" cried Long John. "You speak up plucky, and by thunder, I've a chance!" He hobbled to the torch, where it stood propped among the firewood, and took a fresh light to his pipe. "Understand me, Jim," he said, returning. "I've a head on my shoulders, I have. I'm on squire's side now. I know you've got that ship safe somewheres. How you done it, I don't know, but safe it is. I guess Hands and O'Brien turned soft. I never much believed in neither of THEM. Now you mark me. I ask no questions, nor I won't let others. I know when a game's up, I do; and I know a lad that's staunch. Ah, you that's young-you and me might have done a power of good together!" He drew some cognac from the cask into a tin cannikin. "Will you taste, messmate?" he asked; and when I had refused: "Well, I'll take a drain myself, Jim," said he. "I need a caulker, for there's trouble on hand. And talking o' trouble, why did that doctor give me the chart, Jim?" My face expressed a wonder so unaffected that he saw the needlessness of further questions. "Ah, well, he did, though," said he. "And there's something under that, no doubt - something, surely, under that, Jim - bad or good." And he took another swallow of the brandy, shaking his great fair head like a man who looks forward to the worst. 29 The Black Spot Again THE council of buccaneers had lasted some time, when one of them re-entered the house, and with a repetition of the same salute, which had in my eyes an ironical air, begged for a moment's loan of the torch. Silver briefly agreed, and this emissary retired again, leaving us together in the dark. "There's a breeze coming, Jim," said Silver, who had by this time adopted quite a friendly and familiar tone. I turned to the loophole nearest me and looked out. The embers of the great fire had so far burned themselves out and now glowed so low and duskily that I understood why these conspirators desired a torch. About half-way down the slope to the stockade, they were collected in a group; one held the light, another was on his knees in their midst, and I saw the blade of an open knife shine in his hand with varying colours in the moon and torchlight. The rest were all somewhat stooping, as though watching the manoeuvres of this last. I could just make out that he had a book as well as a knife in his hand, and was still wondering how anything so incongruous had come in their possession when the kneeling figure rose once more to his feet and the whole party began to move together towards the house. "Here they come," said I; and I returned to my former position, for it seemed beneath my dignity that they should find me watching them. "Well, let 'em come, lad - let 'em come," said Silver cheerily. "I've still a shot in my locker." The door opened, and the five men, standing huddled together just inside, pushed one of their number forward. In any other circumstances it would have been comical to see his slow advance, hesitating as he set down each foot, but holding his closed right hand in front of him. "Step up, lad," cried Silver. "I won't eat you. Hand it over, lubber. I know the rules, I do; I won't hurt a depytation." Thus encouraged, the buccaneer stepped forth more briskly, and having passed something to Silver, from hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly back again to his companions. The sea-cook looked at what had been given him. "The black spot! I thought so," he observed. "Where might you have got the paper? Why, hillo! Look here, now; this ain't lucky! You've gone and cut this out of a Bible. What fool's cut a Bible?" "Ah, there!" said Morgan. "There! Wot did I say? No good'll come o' that, I said." "Well, you've about fixed it now, among you," continued Silver. "You'll all swing now, I reckon. What softheaded lubber had a Bible?" "It was Dick," said one. "Dick, was it? Then Dick can get to prayers," said Silver. "He's seen his slice of luck, has Dick, and you may lay to that." But here the long man with the yellow eyes struck in. "Belay that talk, John Silver," he said. "This crew has tipped you the black spot in full council, as in dooty bound; just you turn it over, as in dooty bound, and see what's wrote there. Then you can talk." "Thanky, George," replied the sea-cook. "You always was brisk for business, and has the rules by heart, George, as I'm pleased to see. Well, what is it, anyway? Ah! 'Deposed' - that's it, is it? Very pretty wrote, to be sure; like print, I swear. Your hand o' write, George? Why, you was gettin' quite a leadin' man in this here crew. You'll be cap'n next, I shouldn't wonder. Just oblige me with that torch again, will you? This pipe don't draw." "Come, now," said George, "you don't fool this crew no more. You're a funny man, by your account; but you're over now, and you'll maybe step down off that barrel and help vote." "I thought you said you knowed the rules," returned Silver contemptuously. "Leastways, if you don't, I do; and I wait here - and I'm still your cap'n, mind - till you outs with your grievances and I reply; in the meantime, your black spot ain't worth a biscuit. After that, we'll see." "Oh," replied George, "you don't be under no kind of apprehension; WE'RE all square, we are. First, you've made a hash of this cruise - you'll be a bold man to say no to that. Second, you let the enemy out o' this here trap for nothing. Why did they want out? I dunno, but it's pretty plain they wanted it. Third, you wouldn't let us go at them upon the march. Oh, we see through you, John Silver; you want to play booty, that's what's wrong with you. And then, fourth, there's this here boy." "Is that all?" asked Silver quietly. "Enough, too," retorted George. "We'll all swing and sun-dry for your bungling." "Well now, look here, I'll answer these four p'ints; one after another I'll answer 'em. I made a hash o' this cruise, did I? Well now, you all know what I wanted, and you all know if that had been done that we'd 'a been aboard the HISPANIOLA this night as ever was, every man of us alive, and fit, and full of good plum-duff, and the treasure in the hold of her, by thunder! Well, who crossed me? Who forced my hand, as was the lawful cap'n? Who tipped me the black spot the day we landed and began this dance? Ah, it's a fine dance - I'm with you there - and looks mighty like a hornpipe in a rope's end at Execution Dock by London town, it does. But who done it? Why, it was Anderson, and Hands, and you, George Merry! And you're the last above board of that same meddling crew; and you have the Davy Jones's insolence to up and stand for cap'n over me - you, that sank the lot of us! By the powers! But this tops the stiffest yarn to nothing." Silver paused, and I could see by the faces of George and his late comrades that these words had not been said in vain. "That's for number one," cried the accused, wiping the sweat from his brow, for he had been talking with a vehemence that shook the house. "Why, I give you my word, I'm sick to speak to you. You've neither sense nor memory, and I leave it to fancy where your mothers was that let you come to sea. Sea! Gentlemen o' fortune! I reckon tailors is your trade." "Go on, John," said Morgan. "Speak up to the others." "Ah, the others!" returned John. "They're a nice lot, ain't they? You say this cruise is bungled. Ah! By gum, if you could understand how bad it's bungled, you would see! We're that near the gibbet that my neck's stiff with thinking on it. You've seen 'em, maybe, hanged in chains, birds about 'em, seamen p'inting 'em out as they go down with the tide. 'Who's that?' says one. 'That! Why, that's John Silver. I knowed him well,' says another. And you can hear the chains ajangle as you go about and reach for the other buoy. Now, that's about where we are, every mother's son of us, thanks to him, and Hands, and Anderson, and other ruination fools of you. And if you want to know about number four, and that boy, why, shiver my timbers, isn't he a hostage? Are we a-going to waste a hostage? No, not us; he might be our last chance, and I shouldn't wonder. Kill that boy? Not me, mates! And number three? Ah, well, there's a deal to say to number three. Maybe you don't count it nothing to have a real college doctor to see you every day - you, John, with your head broke - or you, George Merry, that had the ague shakes upon you not six hours agone, and has your eyes the colour of lemon peel to this same moment on the clock? And maybe, perhaps, you didn't know there was a consort coming either? But there is, and not so long till then; and we'll see who'll be glad to have a hostage when it comes to that. And as for number two, and why I made a bargain - well, you came crawling on your knees to me to make it - on your knees you came, you was that downhearted - and you'd have starved too if I hadn't - but that's a trifle! You look there - that's why!" And he cast down upon the floor a paper that I instantly recognized - none other than the chart on yellow paper, with the three red crosses, that I had found in the oilcloth at the bottom of the captain's chest. Why the doctor had given it to him was more than I could fancy. But if it were inexplicable to me, the appearance of the chart was incredible to the surviving mutineers. They leaped upon it like cats upon a mouse. It went from hand to hand, one tearing it from another; and by the oaths and the cries and the childish laughter with which they accompanied their examination, you would have thought, not only they were fingering the very gold, but were at sea with it, besides, in safety. "Yes," said one, "that's Flint, sure enough. J. F., and a score below, with a clove hitch to it; so he done ever." "Mighty pretty," said George. "But how are we to get away with it, and us no ship." Silver suddenly sprang up, and supporting himself with a hand against the wall: "Now I give you warning, George," he cried. "One more word of your sauce, and I'll call you down and fight you. How? Why, how do I know? You had ought to tell me that - you and the rest, that lost me my schooner, with your interference, burn you! But not you, you can't; you hain't got the invention of a cockroach. But civil you can speak, and shall, George Merry, you may lay to that." "That's fair enow," said the old man Morgan. "Fair! I reckon so," said the sea-cook. "You lost the ship; I found the treasure. Who's the better man at that? And now I resign, by thunder! Elect whom you please to be your cap'n now; I'm done with it." "Silver!" they cried. "Barbecue forever! Barbecue for cap'n!" "So that's the toon, is it?" cried the cook. "George, I reckon you'll have to wait another turn, friend; and lucky for you as I'm not a revengeful man. But that was never my way. And now, shipmates, this black spot? 'Tain't much good now, is it? Dick's crossed his luck and spoiled his Bible, and that's about all." "It'll do to kiss the book on still, won't it?" growled Dick, who was evidently uneasy at the curse he had brought upon himself. "A Bible with a bit cut out!" returned Silver derisively. "Not it. It don't bind no more'n a ballad-book." "Don't it, though?" cried Dick with a sort of joy. "Well, I reckon that's worth having too." "Here, Jim - here's a cur'osity for you," said Silver, and he tossed me the paper. It was around about the size of a crown piece. One side was blank, for it had been the last leaf; the other contained a verse or two of Revelation - these words among the rest, which struck sharply home upon my mind: "Without are dogs and murderers." The printed side had been blackened with wood ash, which already began to come off and soil my fingers; on the blank side had been written with the same material the one word "Depposed." I have that curiosity beside me at this moment, but not a trace of writing now remains beyond a single scratch, such as a man might make with his thumb-nail. That was the end of the night's business. Soon after, with a drink all round, we lay down to sleep, and the outside of Silver's vengeance was to put George Merry up for sentinel and threaten him with death if he should prove unfaithful. It was long ere I could close an eye, and heaven knows I had matter enough for thought in the man whom I had slain that afternoon, in my own most perilous position, and above all, in the remarkable game that I saw Silver now engaged upon - keeping the mutineers together with one hand and grasping with the other after every means, possible and impossible, to make his peace and save his miserable life. He himself slept peacefully and snored aloud, yet my heart was sore for him, wicked as he was, to think on the dark perils that environed and the shameful gibbet that awaited him.