#again i'm sure you weren't trying to say their marriage has sucked exactly

[vickyvicarious]

Chat I just realised that October 24 was the second Harker monthversary

Their wedding August 24 was spent with Jonathan unable to even sit up

September 24 was spent with Mina reeling after reading Jonathan's journal (on top of mourning Hawkins and Lucy), Jonathan still struggling in his miserable state after a huge shock

October 24 was spent with Mina catatonic, struggling in her miserable state, as Jonathan receives news that the ship with their prey is coming to their snare (only to slip away soon)

Their marriage has been one misfortune after the other, absolute worst period of their lives

I mean, nothing you say is wrong exactly. But while I don't think you're speaking badly of their marriage itself at all, I still kinda object to the implied tone of that last line. Partially because these terrible things both predated their marriage and also are largely unrelated to it; they'd be happening regardless, even if they were still just engaged. In fact, their marriage is a huge source of light and comfort to sustain them throughout this darkness.

Their wedding on August 24 was a miraculous reunion after months of horrible separation. The fact that they couldn't wait to get married until he was able to sit up is a sign of how much they love one another and how eager they were to devote themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. It also was the day Jonathan handed over the greatest expression of trust (his diary) and Mina responded in kind (sealing it).

September 24 was spent with Mina refusing to dismiss Jonathan's experiences, because even if they were just madness, he still suffered as much from them as if they were real. She immediately is willing to seriously consider the possibility of the threat and to make preparations to protect him if it's real. We also are told on the 23rd that Jonathan is doing a bit better after his shock and on the 25th he is away on a business trip. So while he certainly is still having a rough time on the monthly anniversary, it's at least a moment of upwards trajectory however slight.

October 24 had Mina struggling, absolutely, and Jonathan didn't know the ship was going to leave. But she wasn't totally catatonic, and based on her knowing the train schedules later she may well have had enough energy and interest in things to interact with Jonathan behind closed doors. Most of their private moments are. Certainly the telegram arriving was welcome news. If we count the fact that it was misleading against them (something they don't learn till a little later), then I feel like I should get to counter that only a few days later Mina was able to be more active and feel more alive when Dracula started trying to break their connection.

Like... obviously this is indeed a terrible time for them. And their monthly anniversaries during it involve some pretty awful stuff. But it's neither the worst things (at least they didn't get married on the 3rd!), nor is it lacking hope and comfort throughout. And much of that is directly due to their marriage. So if it's been one misfortune after another so far, well. At least they have each other throughout all of that! It may not be as tangible but it makes such a huge difference.

All that said... yeah, this has been a rough few starting months. They deserve a proper honeymoon.

[whyispotatoheadalreadytaken]

A friend of ours asked to come over and chat about what was happening in her life on Monday.

This surprised us because it felt like pulling teeth to get her to hang out with us. It was so weird to us because she kept saying we should hang out, and then we never would. She would say things like, "We really need friends! I need friends!" And we were just like, okay, then hang with us! We got her to agree one time before this. She and her husband really like Far Out in Lex, so we met there, got some food and drinks, and played card games. It was a good time. I played darts at one point. Got a bullseye cuz I'm talented like that.

She came over and said she had a rough weekend and needed to talk about it but didn't know how. So, we got Jimbob and went for a walk to the damn so she could walk and talk. That's less intimidating. It took her a minute, but she finally just unloaded about how terrible her relationship with her husband was. They've been married for 6 months. She just kept talking, and we kept listening with an occasional validation to calm her anxiety about it. It was insane, though.

I never ever would have guessed that he was the way that he was. We really enjoyed her husband, and we have a lot in common with music and things like that. He seemed so nice and so sweet. She told us that the more we talked about a couple of our other friends who were in DV relationships (not in a like listen to this crazy stuff way but in a hello mental health professional, we've done this this this this and this, what else can we or should we do to help these people??? Can we help them???) and she slowly started making connections and was like, "Huh…am I in an abusive relationship?" She explained a part of it which is that her husband will fixate and obsess over other women. Women he hasn't even met. Sometimes, she was working at a different job, and he became obsessed with her coworkers. So, she never hung out with us because she was trying to protect us from him. Suddenly everything made all the sense in the world.

This poor girl has had SO MUCH happen recently. Jobs here suck, so she found a new one. She went to the doctor for the first time in years and discovered her thyroid is not functioning. So, that explains why so is so exhausted all of the time. She thought it was just stress. And it was so enlarged they had to do a biopsy to be sure it wasn't cancerous. Then her dog almost died. And now she's questioning her marriage and wondering if she should go ahead and get a divorce while she's at it. So, we had that lovely convo about her hubby Monday. I asked her the amazing magic wand question I love in family/couples therapy: What would change if you had a magic wand to make everything perfect? Bro. Usually, people are like, well, this would be different, or we would do this, or I would feel like this. Her answer was, "It would bring me back in time, so I never dated this person to begin with." Omg…hahaha, we laugh, or we cry. So, then I was really direct and told her that it seemed she knows exactly what she wants and needs to do; just doing it is really scary and uncertain. She went home and then texted Zoë that she's gonna leave him.

So, the next day we all went to taco bell cuz we were all starving. We continued some chats, and she continued to process. Things weren't good when she went home the night before. She wasn't ready to go home, so we brought her to the Japanese Garden so she could walk around some more. This is where she told us she has a special talent for finding four-leaf clovers. She finds them so fast it makes me so mad, haha. But it's something she's always done since she was a teenager. So, then we searched for clovers for a while. She found three, and I found one, haha. Once we were done there, we walked over to the peninsula and walked there. We hung out until around 9ish. She went home, and things were not okay again. So, she told him she would like to divorce or get an annulment (ha).

She came over again yesterday while we were waiting to take her to Equis Run for a wine tasting (cuz we know a guy who allows us to taste for free). She said the conversation actually went well, and he agreed???? So, they removed their rings and are sleeping separately. She'll move out at the end of June when her lease ends. Really kinda want her to leave sooner cuz this is how women get murdered. I had tried to find her a clover ALL DAY and was unsuccessful until we were in our backyard. She had already found two at that point. Which is FINE. So, I gave her mine, and she tried to make me keep mine, but then I asked her how many times someone had presented a four-leafer to her, and she said not very often, so she took it. So, we brought her to Equis because the night before, she had told us that the next day would be their fourth anniversary, sooooooo she needed a fun distraction. So, we decided to bring her to a wine tasting cuz that's the best. She had the time of her life. I've never seen her let loose like that and be a person. So, she did the wine tasting first and the spirit tasting. They call it spirits because they can't call it tequila for some reason??? Anyway. She just kept laughing and laughing, and I was so proud of her. Then we went to brown barrel for some food. She got a little sad there but thanked us when we got home for giving her the best night she's had in a long time. She cried a little. And then we cried a little. She's just the nicest human who doesn't deserve any of what her husband has put her through and continues to put her through. It escalated quickly, but I hope she doesn't change her mind. I hope she follows through and finds a good person to be with. I haven't seen her yet today, and I know last night was rough for her. But I already found a four-leafer for her today! I'm getting good at this. Needless to say, I am exhausted in all of the ways, but she has no one because he hasn't allowed her to, or she's protecting her female friends, so it's a good tired, but I'm very tired. Who knows what this evening will bring! But that's just been my life for three days now.

[randomshyperson]

Palm Springs - Leigh Shaw

All Works Masterlist

Summary: In Palm Springs, Leigh meets you. The season one finale re-imagined.

Warnings: (+18), smut, cursing, dom!reader, bottom!leigh, explicit language, explicit consent, brief mentions of harassment, fluff, brief rivalry dynamics, hopeful ending.

Words: 5.378K

Notes: My love, @abimess, this is my apologies for you. I kept mistaken "Wanda" instead of "Leigh" at some points in the writing, but it all worked out in the end. I hope you all enjoy the read, this is my first time writing for this character.

//-//

You threw the signed divorce papers against the passenger seat, ignoring the thick tears that welled up in your eyes.

Raising your hand, you turned up the radio and kept driving. Your cell phone started ringing the next moment, but you ignored it. It was probably Bucky or Steve calling to find out where you were after your little outburst at the company fundraiser.

Honestly, it wasn't your fault. You were handling it all very well, but Carol decided it would be a good idea to give you the divorce papers while you were surrounded by your closest friends, and that was the trigger. But now you were driving to Palm Springs, finally taking the damn vacation your ex-wife had put you through so much hell to get, but now, the seat next to you was empty.

It took a few hours to get there, since the complex is in New York, but you didn't care, having spent most of the way trying to understand how you managed to lose a woman like Carol Danvers.

No bags, you ignored the curious look one of the hotel staff gave you as soon as you pulled into the parking lot, smiling slightly as you took off your sunglasses and asked for directions to the front desk.

You frowned slightly as you were almost run over.

"Watch where you're going!" You shouted angrily at the driver, and the woman returned you the same angry look. Great, you've barely arrived and you almost died. This weekend was promising.

Stepping back, you waited for the woman to drive, not failing to give her a wry smile as she passed you. After this, you walked to the reception desk, and the area was quite full, which was normal for a weekend.

"Reservation in the name Danvers." You said to the receptionist after the greetings. He smiled as he checked the information.

"Valentine's suite, I see." He commented cheerfully. "Shall I prepare a second key for your partner?"

"It's just going to be me, buddy." You grumble, ignoring the uneasy feeling in your stomach. The man smiles awkwardly, but doesn't apologize.

After checking in, you go up to the third floor.

The room makes you sigh with disgust, the flowers and chocolates give you a headache. It takes ten minutes to find a chambermaid and ask her to remove all the decorations.

While your room is being cleaned, you decide to buy something to wear, since you didn't bring anything to spend the weekend at the hotel.

"Good morning." You mumble the greeting as you enter the gift store, your gaze wandering around.

"How can I help you, dear?" The saleswoman asks politely, smiling at you.

"I need something to wear for the two days I'm staying. It was a last-minute trip." You tell her, and the saleswoman looks surprised, but doesn't comment.

The woman eventually showed you the summer shirt section, and you sighed softly as you looked through the options. She walked away to attend to another customer, and you left your attention to the clothes.

A moment later, you picked out a few pieces and turned to talk to the saleswoman, only to run into the woman who had almost run you over earlier looking at the book section.

"You again." You let it slip not so low, attracting the woman's attention. She frowns for a second, and then she recognizes you. But before she can say anything, the saleswoman is speaking.

"Oh, you two know each other already?" She asks excitedly. "It's amazing how we can find friends here in Palm Springs isn't it?"

"We're not friends." You both inform at the same moment, and you squeeze your eyes shut slightly. The woman straightens her posture, pressing the book lightly against her chest as you switch the shirts on your arm. The saleswoman's curious expression prompts you to speak.

"Actually, she almost killed me." You say. "It was going to be quite a headline for this hotel. I'd be careful about the people you guys host around here."

The saleswoman looks at you with confusion, while the other woman lets out a dry laugh.

"You're the one who walked across in the middle of the street!" she defends herself. "It's not my fault if you weren't taught how to cross the street in school."

"Oh, so it's the victim's fault now?" You retort and the woman looks at you incredulously. A third customer enters the store and stares curiously at the argument, but the saleswoman is quick to gesture between you, smiling wryly.

"Oh come on, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding" The saleswoman remarks and you sustain the annoyed look the other woman is casting at you. "There's no need for an argument."

"Of course not." The woman says forcing a smile, but her posture remains aggressive. "We are both civilized adults."

You bite your tongue to avoid another provocation, looking away from the green irises in front of you.

"Of course you are." The saleswoman says smiling, and then her gaze catches the shirts hanging from your forearm and she lets out a light exclamation. "Come on, I can finalize your purchase if that's all, dear."

You turn toward the cashier next, and it is only after you have paid for the clothes and are leaving that you see the other woman again on your way back, but she does not look away from the books to you. You couldn't care less.

//-//

In your room, you can't resist the urge to look at your phone.

Bucky has called five times. And Steve even sent you an email. You sigh weakly, feeling guilty as you catch a glimpse of Tony and Natasha's message notifications.

Your friends didn't care that you started crying in the middle of the meeting you were at because your ex-wife decided to bring a sensitive topic like the end of your five-year marriage to the table, but you were hating yourself for it.

At this point, you didn't even know what you had been crying about anymore. You and Carol had always had a difficult relationship, and since you got married, you began to wonder why you had done it in the first place.

You loved her so much when you first met her, and then everything gradually broke down. The lack of compatibility, the jealousy and possessiveness, and the lack of time. Carol was a soldier in the army, and you were a Shield special agent, and your jobs took up a lot of your schedules. But you knew that this was just another empty excuse. After all, your best friend, Natasha, was also an agent, as was her wife, and they made everything work properly.

Maybe things were meant to happen that way. That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

After taking a shower, you grumble lightly as you realize that you forgot to buy a bathing suit. And well, everything special about Palm Springs was the magnificent pools.

You figured the shorts and top you had would have to fit.

The pools were considerably more crowded than the rest of the hotel, and this was probably due to the current temperature.

You decided to buy a drink before sunbathing, realizing that most of the chairs were occupied.

The bartender was a pretty girl and smiled mischievously at you when her gaze fell on your collarbone exposed by the cut of your shirt, but you just gave her a half-hearted smile. Being newly divorced wasn't exactly the best scenario for flirting.

"What can I get you?" The woman asked as she rested her hands on the counter in front of her. You bit your lip thoughtfully, running your eyes down one of the menus left on the wood.

"Honestly, I don't know anything here." You say. "But I would like something sweet."

It takes a few minutes for her to prepare a drink for you, and you thank her as you accept.

As you sip a drink that tastes like strawberries and condensed milk, you look around the surroundings.

You frown slightly as you recognize the woman from the store, watching her sit in one of the chairs that has just been emptied in front of the bar. She doesn't notice you, but you notice her exposed legs, mentally scolding yourself for doing so.

As you take another sip of your drink, your tongue getting used to the sugary sweetness, a man approaches the stranger in front of you. From this proximity, you can hear the conversation, or rather the small harassment that he was doing.

Rolling your eyes at the stranger's clearly offensive attempt to approach the other woman, you force yourself to get up and walk over to them.

Well, Nat always said that you were a person with a natural talent for theater and you wish she were here now to see the little scene you caused.

Pretending to trip over the sunshade support, you made a sudden movement and knocked your entire drink against the man's collarbone, who let out an exclamation of anger and surprise as he stood up.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You asked in a falsely guilty tone, forcing an expression of shock. Before he could say anything, you were already grabbing one of the towels left on the little tables beside the chairs and throwing it harder than necessary against the man's face. "Here, honey, clean yourself up."

The man blinked in surprise, and glared angrily at you for a second before muttering "whatever" and turning to leave. When he was already a safe distance away, you turned your face to look at the seated woman.

"Sorry about your book." You speak as you notice that the spilled drink has dripped a little on the pages. "But if you ask me, the ending sucks."

"Thanks, I guess." The woman mumbles not keeping her gaze on you. "I didn't need you to help me, by the way." She adds and you roll your eyes, realizing that the chair next to her got empty after your little commotion. When you sit down, she raises her gaze to you in disbelief.

"Who said I was helping you?" You retort. "I love throwing expensive drinks at strangers."

Your joke elicits a nasal chuckle from the woman, who softens her posture.

"If you want to lose money, I suggest donating rather than wasting it." She teases back and you bite back a smile, shaking your head slightly. When she opens the book again and leans her back against the chair, clearly deciding to ignore your presence, you copy the position, but stand with your arms folded across your chest and close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun against your skin.

You are tired from the trip, and eventually fall asleep. When you open your eyes again, the woman is no longer there.

//-//

Since you have napped until the afternoon, there is no chance you will sleep early. You try to distract yourself with television, but most of the programs are pay-per-view and you have probably already exceeded all the limits that a Shield salary can afford, so you decide to spend some time on the activities included in your weekend bundle.

After putting on a shirt to join the lobby, you take the elevator down and step out into the outdoor area, not surprised to find the place as busy as before. The difference is perhaps the lack of children because of the time of day.

You walk toward the bar and roll your eyes slightly when you notice the same man as before being loud and boisterous along with a small group partying near the place. But you ignore them as you sit down on the first stool you find.

"Well, if it isn't my knight in white armor." A female voice comments wryly beside you, surprising you mildly. You look at the woman with a raised eyebrow, but she is looking straight ahead.

"So you expect me to call you a princess? We don't even know each other." You retort in the same tone, and watch the woman bite back a smile, rolling her eyes slightly.

You stand in silence while you order a drink, this time smiling in the same way that the bartender smiles at you. While you wait, you can' t help but look over to the side.

"You know, I think I might need to get your name." You begin in a tone of false seriousness, not knowing why you want to pull conversation with the stranger, but doing it anyway. "Since I need to know who to sue for attempted hit-and-run."

The woman laughs lightly, and as she sets her drinking glass back down on the counter, she turns her body toward you, without getting up.

"The smart thing then wouldn't be to say my name, don't you think?" She retorts with amusement in her voice. "That way I avoid a lawsuit."

You smile in a corner, shaking your head slightly. You lean your arm on the counter, and it takes a moment for her to speak again.

"I'm Leigh."

"No last name so I can't find your ID, right?" You tease and she smiles, licking her lips for a moment. "Well, I won't tell you mine either then." You comment before telling her only your first name, and she laughs lightly. "May I at least know your profession? Or, I don't know, where you're from? I need that information to track you down."

You joke, and Leigh makes a thoughtful expression for a moment.

"I'm from everywhere actually." She says mysteriously. "Because I'm an international jewel thief."

You smile at the mixed tone of seriousness and playfulness in her speech, respecting her right not to want to tell you the truth, and acknowledging the identity she chooses to assume.

"Oh, really?" You ask joining in the joke. "And let me guess, your disguise happens to be as a fashion stylist, right? And you have a red motorcycle and deadly poison hidden in your lipstick?"

Leigh holds back her laughter, nodding.

"I can't confirm any of that information, actually." She says. "After all, a little incident happened and I wasn't able to finish the story."

You laugh at the teasing, taking a sip of your drink. Before the moment of silence lasts any longer, you ask if you can approach. When Leigh consents, you take the seat next to her.

"And what do you do?" she asks as soon as you sit down. You clear your throat lightly.

"I'm a secret agent, actually." You tell her and from the woman's expression, she still believes you are joking. You do not correct yourself however. "Lasers and villains, the whole story."

Leigh smiles, murmuring in understanding.

"And what is a secret agent doing in Palm Springs?" She asks next and you assume a dramatically thoughtful expression.

"I got a hint actually." You reply. "A jewel thief, fugitive from the government. I'm trying to gather information to effect her arrest."

Leigh fakes an expression of horror making you laugh.

"If I see anything suspicious, I'll give you a heads up." She jokes and you smile, enjoying the whole thing. Before you can add anything else, the small group next to the bar let out loud laughter and they attract your and Leigh's attention.

You frown slightly when you witness the guy from earlier whistling at one of the hotel staff, the people with him finding his little scene of harassment funny.

"I guess a drink in the face isn't enough for some idiots." You comment and Leigh sighs mildly. She looks at you at the same moment you look at her.

"Maybe more drinks will be enough."

That's how you end up doing a little mischief that involves distracting the stranger with comments about his muscles while Leigh approaches and manages to get the man's card. When you walk away, after she hands the bartender the hotel ID after ordering a round for everyone at the bar on the stranger's behalf, you were laughing.

"I'm beginning to believe your thief story." You amused comment as soon as you and Leigh reach the trail out of the bar area. She just smiles at your words. You clear your throat next. "I guess I need to show off my secret agent skills then."

Leigh looks at you curiously, but you just smile as you nod in the direction of the gardens.

You walk for a few minutes in silence, and you remember everything you have observed since you arrived at the hotel, and are able to find the small opening in the fence that you saw some staff members pass through in the afternoon.

"Please, milady." You joke as you make room for Leigh to cross the path first, and she rolls her eyes with amusement before doing so.

You end up in some kind of unfinished private garden, but one that is still very pretty.

Perhaps it is an area under construction for some kind of party, as it has a stage set up in the center and some folded chairs scattered about.

Your attention falls immediately to the piano that has also been set up high on the dark stage.

"How did you find this place?" Leigh asks as she looks around, and you walk past her to get on the stage, eliciting a giggle.

"Field study, of course." You reply with false seriousness. " A secret agent never goes anywhere without studying the whole place first."

Leigh murmurs in agreement, deciding to follow you to the stage. You take a seat on the piano bench while she remains standing in front of the organ.

"Do you have any requests?" You ask looking down at your fingers as she studies your face.

"Old Mac Donald had a Farm." She replies and you choke on a laugh.

"And I thought your taste in music was as good as your fashion sense." You tease causing her to raise an eyebrow.

"Is that your way of complimenting what I'm wearing?" She retorts but you just bite back a smile, moving your fingers across the keys.

You decide to play a melody that she may not recognize, but is exactly what you feel you should play.

When the first notes of " Spring - Ludovico Einaudi" echo in the room, Leigh looks at you in surprise, but you just smile.

It takes a moment for her to surround the piano, and to sit down next to you. You continue to play, enjoying the sound and concentrating not to misplay the notes.

When you make a particularly fast movement on the piano, Leigh looks at you impressed, but you just push your shoulder lightly against hers, smiling. Neither of you regains the distance from before, and you continue to play.

When you finish, you are silent for a moment.

"Where did you learn to do that?" She asks in her low, impressed tone as you both look down at your hands on the keys. You sigh slightly, moving your fingers away and placing your hands in your lap.

"I used to play when I was a kid." You reply. "Before I was a secret agent, of course."

Leigh smiles, biting her lips lightly. You look away from the movement, to her hands quickly.

"Let me show you." You whisper as you reach out your hand to hers. When she accepts, you position her fingers on the keys, and then fit your hand on top of hers. "You start like this."

The sound is far from perfect, and Leigh laughs every time she misses a note, so you don't really care.

You stay like this for a few minutes, until you can get her to complete five notes without making a mistake.

"See? You' re almost a pianist already." You comment with a smile, looking at her face. She mimics your movement, and you feel your heart skip a beat from the closeness.

You feel the tension build in the room, but before you can think of doing anything, a male voice is breaking the spell.

"Sorry, but this area is for employees only." Informs the young man from the hotel, seeming slightly embarrassed to interrupt. You and Leigh quickly walk away, standing up and muttering an apology in unison to the guy, who waits until you leave by the trail he guides.

When you reach the entrance to the social area again, the employee closes the gate, waving slightly. You and Leigh exchange amused smiles.

"So... what do you want to do now?" You ask the next moment, wanting to prolong the evening.

"I want to swim." She declares and you frown slightly, then shrug. You nod in the direction of the pools and you exchange a glance before starting to walk.

//-//

At the edge of the pool, you sigh slightly.

You exchange a look with Leigh, standing next to you, and then you laugh softly as you both begin to undress.

You can't resist the urge to look at her, especially since she jumps in first and you catch a glimpse of her body covered only by a bikini. Ignoring your uncompensated heartbeat, you jump into the water next.

It's a good thing the water was cold, because you are feeling your face and body heat up at the way Leigh looks at you.

Trying to lighten the mood, you swim around her, casually meeting her gaze again as she mimics the movement.

You laugh lightly when you realize that you are swimming in circles around each other, and decide to stop. Leigh swims in front of you a moment later.

"Hello, superspy." She greets you almost in a whisper waving her arms to continue on the surface in front of you.

"Hello, international thief." You speak back in the same tone, your gazes locked on each other.

You wonder if she would like you to break the distance, as her gaze has lowered to your lips for a few seconds. But before you can surrender to this urge, she takes a step back.

"I'm cold."

And then she swims away, and you wonder if you have taken the whole thing the wrong way.

Following her a little way back, you look for towels.

//-//

"Which floor are you on?" You ask as you reach the elevators, each with a towel around your body. You watch Leigh tighten her arms against herself slightly.

"Second." She replies half-heartedly, and you nod.

"Let's go together then."

She gets into the elevator first, and after she presses the button, you stand next to her, your back against the wall.

The tension is back the moment the doors close, but after the pool, you find it best not to take any action, not wishing to make Leigh uncomfortable.

You reach her floor a moment later, and when she doesn't leave, you hold your breath.

You risk a corner-of-your-eye glance at her, but she continues to stare straight ahead, sighing slightly.

Trying not to look like a complete mess, you wait for your floor to arrive.

//-//

The way down the hallway is silent, and despite your nervousness, you don't fumble to open your room.

Leigh enters first, and strides into the room as you close the door.

She stops in the center, her gaze scanning around for a moment before returning to you. You hold your breath, and then she lets the set of clothes in her hands fall to the floor.

You bite back a smile, mimicking the movement. Taking a deep breath, you do the same with your towel, and ignore the heat in your cheeks as Leigh's gaze descends to your body covered only by your underwear.

She removes the towel at your waist next, and you stare at her exposed legs for a moment before moving slowly toward her.

You smile shyly as you stop in front of her, and it takes a second for you to slowly lift your fingers to touch her, tracing the outline of her arm and watching her skin shiver.

"Everything okay?" You ask softly raising your gaze from where your fingers were touching to her eyes. Leigh sighs, shaking her head in agreement. You give her a short smile, placing your hand on her cheek, and watching her lean into the touch slightly. "Use your words." You ask in a whisper, your other hand repeating the motion of your fingers from before, even more slowly.

"Y-yes." She confirms half breathlessly. "And you?"

"Yes." You say, your hand reaching for the strap of her bikini. "I'm going to kiss you now, Leigh."

She nods in understanding, sighing heavily. You didn't correctly calculate how attracted you were to her, because the moment your lips touched, you felt your head spin and it was hard not to push her against the bed immediately.

You both sigh against the kiss, and you slide your tongue into her mouth next, your hand on her face running down to her neck, deepening the kiss even more.

Leigh seems hesitant to touch you for the first second, but then she gasps against your tongue, and brings her hands to your shoulders, bringing one of them up to the back of your neck and scratching the skin, making you sigh.

With the hand that was on the bikini strap, you use your fingers to pull the strap down, and with the other hand you repeat the movement on the other side. When the bikini falls to the floor, your hands go down to her waist, and you pull her toward you.

Leigh gasps at the contact of your breasts bumping together, breaking the kiss with a wet sigh, and you take the opportunity to move your mouth down her collarbone, enjoying the sounds you manage to get out of her whenever you bite her sensitive skin softly.

You lean against her to lower your kisses to her breasts, and when your mouth finds the hardened nipple, she arches her back, closing her eyes as her fingers force your head forward against her breast.

"Oh." She moans as she feels you suck on her nipple, your other hand moving up to give her other breast due attention, your fingers playing with the tip. " Oh, fuck, that feels good."

You smile against her skin, feeling your core tighten with the sounds you are tearing out of her.

When your hand on her waist moves down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and pressing Leigh's hips against yours as your mouth continues on her breast, she moans loudly as she throws her head back, shuddering against you.

It's enough to make you lose control. You need to know how she tastes.

Gasping, you move your kisses down again, and Leigh holds her breath as you get down on your knees.

You kiss her thighs first, while your hands pull down the fabric of her panties.

When the fabric falls away completely, you swallow dry, your gaze glazed on the exposed intimacy of the woman in front of you, your mouth salivating to taste her.

"I-I'm gonna fall." She comments shyly, and you notice how her knees are already shaky. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand up.

You take Leigh by the hand to your bed, and she stands there, making you smile. You move forward against her mouth again, and she sighs, almost losing her balance from the intensity.

"Lie down." You ask between one kiss and another, making her moan softly. "Spread your legs for me."

Leigh gasps against your lips as you slip your fingers through her folds for a moment, before pulling away until she obeys. You bite your lips as you watch her lie down.

Before you join her, you remove the rest of your clothes. Leigh's cheeks redden, but you give her no time to register this, climbing onto the bed with your knee between her legs and kissing her again.

As she begins to squirm beneath you for more friction, you move your kisses down her body.

She closes her eyes when your mouth is at the level of her belly, breathing hard.

When your tongue touches her pussy, you both moan loudly. You are amazed at how wet and hot she feels, the taste filling all your senses. And Leigh bites her lips to stop herself from moaning out in pleasure when your tongue begins to move against her clit, sucking and licking her devotedly and making her whimper.

"F-fuck." She moans breathlessly, her hips thrusting into your mouth. "Yeah...right there... don't stop..."

You lift your hands to her thighs, holding her open. Your own intimacy pulsing from the way Leigh is surrendered to you and the sounds she gives you.

Keeping the strokes of your tongue as deep as you can and being sure to press your clitoris in return, you feel her pussy tighten and Leigh's body begins to quiver in spasms.

"I-I'm... close... fuck..." she begins to whimper disconnected words, long moans escaping her throat. It takes only two more strokes for her to come on your tongue, her moan loud enough to be heard in the next room, but neither of you care.

You drink all of her cum, enjoying the taste and feeling on edge, without even having been touched yet.

Moving up your kisses again, you deposit slow kisses against Leigh's skin, waiting for her to recover from her own orgasm.

When you reach her mouth, she kisses you back with the same intensity.

You just know you're not going to sleep early tonight.

//-//

When you wake up, your bed is empty. You are surprised by this, really.

The night was very good. Much better than any one-night stand you have ever had.

After getting dressed by finding your articles of clothing, you walk to the front desk.

It takes a few minutes to find Leigh, and you frown when you realize from the bag in her hands, the documents, and the car key that she is leaving.

"Wow, you weren't even going to leave a note." You tease as you catch up with her. She is startled by your sudden presence, but forces a smile.

"Look, I'm sorry..." she starts but you shake your head.

"No need." You interrupt by putting your hands in your pockets and shrugging. "It was just one night after all."

"Yes." She reaffirms what you say, staring at you. You hold her gaze, and a long minute later she sighs. "No, it wasn't."

You swallow dryly, watching her. She seems conflicted about something, her expression going from worried to guilty in a few seconds, and then she takes a deep breath and shakes her head before looking at you again.

"I can't." She says, and you sigh lightly. "I just... can't."

"It's okay." You decide to say, ignoring the way your stomach is flipping with nervousness or your heart is racing. "We are civilized adults, aren't we?"

Leigh smiles, and you watch her eyes water for a moment before she quickly hides her emotion. You feel the same way.

" This is a goodbye." Leigh says next, and you look away to the floor, nodding in understanding.

"Goodbye, Leigh. It was nice meeting you." You say as you look at her again, forcing a smile even though your eyes are watering.

She smiles, approaching to kiss your cheek close enough to your lips to make you shiver. She doesn't pull away immediately, raising her mouth to the height of your ear, she whispers "I left a note." and before you can understand what has been said to you, she is gone.

It is only at the end of the day, many hours after she has left, and you are already inside your car that you rummage in your pants pocket looking for the car key that you find the note.

It is a piece torn from the page of the book "Unmoored in milan", the paper stained with drink. In the corner, in cursive letters it is written. "to my favorite secret agent. Leigh Shaw, Los Angeles."

You smiled at the words, and as you were driving back to New York, you wondered how long it would take Natasha to find out Leigh's phone number.

//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia

@mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @HELLOALYCIA // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm

// @sxfwap // @table57

[likeastarstar]

8:34 PM- Jimin

(A/N: this characterization of jimin isn't how I see him, this is fiction bitch I made it up!)

Jimin was hard to define.

He wasn't a nice person, per say. It was doubtful anyone would say he's rude or malicious, but he wasn't the type of man to go out of his way to do anything for anyone. His morals were shaky at best, his motives were almost entirely self-centered and as long as he got what he wanted, that was fine.

"Who is that?" He asked the nearest person when he had spotted the girl with sleek hair and less than present eyes. You weren't aware of his stares, completely zoned out halfway across the room.

The girl next to him said your name like it was a bad word, raising her eyebrows in a particular way.

He didn't know what the look meant, or how it should've affected what he did next, but he got up anyway to go introduce himself.

You, as it turned out, were not a nice person either. You however, erred on the side of cruel but had friends despite this on account of your humor- which was both unexpected and offhand. You were a balancing act, a perfect example of duality. There was the side of you that was thoughtful and pensive but it was ruined by your stubborn will to do whatever first came to mind as a good idea. You could be crass and mean but would always marry it with the truth so well the receiving end would thank you for your input.

You were also a sort of social enigma in your circle- mainly because of the floating stories about you, which a man like Jimin, who had no interest in gossip whatsoever, wouldn't have heard of.

"Hello," He said, walking up to you. He was quite a bit taller than you and was the opposite in every way. In both looks and demeanor, the contrast was stark.

You peered at him in response, sipping the drink in your hand lightly. You had been floating around the party for hours now, getting sucked into conversation after conversation so thoroughly Jimin was confused as to how you knew so many people here. "Hi," you said quietly, your expression reading slightly disinterested.

"I'm Jimin, what are you drinking?" He asked calmly. His voice was deep and mellow, making you gravitate towards him unconsciously. The man was good looking, that was clear. Part of you was intrigued by him, a larger part was wary.

"It's a vodka sprite." You informed shortly, telling him your name a beat later. He nodded approvingly and offered to get you another, which you agreed to since you weren't exactly looking forward to buying yourself another.

"Are you here with someone?" He asked, gesturing to the bar. He moved in a way that felt too smooth to be real, a finesse to all of his gestures that made you want to pay attention to him as much as he wanted to do the same to you.

"I'm here with a lot of someones. I know about you." You said, smiling a little. You were almost positive he was the kind of guy who had girls falling for his charms easily, the piercing gaze, the fluffy quaffed hair, the full lips that always seemed to be sporting a smirk like he knew a secret he wasn't letting you in on. Too bad you had heard things about him, from friends of friends and overheard conversations at social gatherings.

Jimin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Do you?"

"I do," You grinned, nodding. "I've heard about the way you treat girls. It's awful- you're kind of the worst, you know that?"

Jimin was taken aback by her bluntness but wasn't exactly disagreeing with her. "And why would you say that?" He chuckled, taking a step towards you. Jimin had to admit, your willingness to be so honest was disarmingly attractive and if you kept smiling at him like that he'd find himself completely defenseless.

"I would say that because you broke up with your last girlfriend of a year and a half over a text message and then proceeded to sleep with her roommate." You explained, taking a sip of the drink he had just bought you and taking a step towards him as well. "You haven't heard of me?"

"I'm sorry to say I haven't," He answered quickly, still not disagreeing with your accusations. "Who told you that very fun fact about me?"

"The roommate." You shrugged. "She said you have an interesting tattoo somewhere- is that one true as well?"

Jimin smirked and shrugged offhandedly. "Would you like to find out?"

"No," You laughed, bruising Arlo's ego slightly. He frowned and took a step back, which only had you laughing again. Jimin was conflicted- on one hand, he had just been turned down. On the other, your laugh was the most charming thing he had ever heard. You noticed him back off and took his hand to keep him near you, still with that smile on your face. "Oh, I'm sorry- I didn't mean anything by it. But come on, if you were in my shoes- meaning, if your friend told you all of those things about me, would you still want to talk to me?"

"Yes," He laughed ironically, "You're gorgeous, you could tell me you're the worst person on this earth and I would still want to talk to you."

You pressed your lips into a conflicted smile and looked up at Jimin, crinkling your nose slightly as he studied your facial expression. It was one of those looks where you clearly had a thought forming in your head and while usually Jimin was quite good at determining what people thought of him, with you things could go either way.

"Well maybe I'm not as desperate for affection." You shrugged, turning your attention back to your drink.

You didn't feel like indulging anyone's ego. Not even someone as pretty as Jimin. You finished your drink off and nudged Jimin for another, smiling when he agreed immediately.

"Do you know what phase the moon is in tonight?" You asked, following Jimin to the bar.

You kept close behind him, making sure to always keep at least one finger in physical contact with the man. Jimin felt heat from where you touched him, but again couldn't determine what it meant. Were you just trying to make sure you didn't lose him? Or were you flirting?

"No, I don't really pay attention to that stuff." He shrugged, wondering who the hell kept track of the moon. He got the attention of a bartender and ordered another vodka sprite for you and a whiskey for himself, wishing he was at home and could just drink wine instead. It was dumb of him not to just order what he wanted, but his older brother once said a man ordering a glass of wine at a bar was like announcing to the world that he was 85 and golfed on the weekends to avoid a loveless marriage- and Jimin really hated golf.

"I think it's a full moon. This building has a rooftop garden, did you know that?" You asked.

"No, why would I know that?" He snorted. You shrugged, taking your drink in one hand and thanked Jimin quietly as if you was being forced to. It made him laugh, the way you were only begrudgingly nice to him. "So you've heard all of those things about me, why are you humoring me right now?"

You sighed, looking around the room. "Did you notice that every girl here is either wearing a neutral color? I mean seriously, no one thought to wear anything interesting? And the men- they're all in casual suits that age them." You commented, scrunching your nose.

Jimin looked down at his attire immediately, realizing he too was wearing a casual suit that probably did age him. Then he looked at what you were wearing- a jade green dress that was too complicated to describe. All he knew was that it was sheer in the right places and the fabric was so interesting Jimin almost wanted to reach out and touch it. You were special, that much was so clear to him.

"What are you getting at?" Jimin asked, wondering what clothes had to do with his question.

"I'm saying, I'm bored. Everyone looks the same and I've had the same conversation five times over tonight. But when you came up to me and suddenly, things seem less boring." You explained slowly. He looked down at you, slightly weirded out with how quickly this conversation was progressing.

"What I'm getting at is, do you want to go look at the moon with me?" You asked, pointing towards the roof.

masterlist.

[anextraordinarymuse]

I'm just gonna go ahead and make a new post to respond to your points Katie (@jonesgirl88) so that we're not constantly reblogging and trying to load all of those gifs.

Jump to the DLO dance: there is a war going on in Oliver's head and the fact Eric can act that so we can see it? Brilliant. Chef's kiss. He's so torn and you can feel it and your heart breaks for both of them. He's holding her hand to his heart but Shane is also physically on his right side. Her chin is nearly resting on his right shoulder and he's pulled her close to his right side. What say you?

I noticed this too, of course. But first - Eric and Kristin deserve awards. All of the awards. They act beautifully, and they play off of each other so well - they're wonderful scene partners. Okay anyway. Yes, Shane is physically on his right side and has many points of contact along that side (like you said, her chin is nearly on his shoulder) but I pointed out their hands specifically because they are originally positioned away from their bodies. Shane and Oliver's physical closeness is a given in this moment because dancing is intimate. It requires that a lot of you be in contact with a lot of your partner. But originally Oliver and Shane's hands are extended away from them until Oliver pointedly draws them in and places Shane's hand over his heart. This movement is unnecessary in the context of ... well, anything. It's a purely instinctive and intimate move. He could have simply let go of her hand, or drawn it closer and then held it in some other position, but no: he pulls it right in against him. That's why I included it. I'm sure that it was included in the blocking and written in to the script because we're meant to notice it.

I could write for days about that DLO dance scene. THE. FREAKING. CHEMISTRY. I blush ridiculously easily (seriously it's A Problem and I hate it) and I would have been crimson that whole time if I were Kristin. The Tenderness. The Tension. The way his eyes dart back and forth right before he lets her go because he's so at war with himself: kiss her or let her go? O.Y.E.

They're standing in a line (because they're being given awards) but he's turning towards her and she's turning towards him. I just...I can't with these two.

This is totally A Thing©. Shane and Oliver both have a tendency to turn in toward each other like that - but especially Shane. It's an unconscious attempt to take refuge in Oliver and his strength, I think. She often does it in times when she's seeking comfort and closeness/affection. That moment where Shane is sleeping on Oliver's shoulder is one my favorite moments of it, but there's another one that's a small moment (that apparently was either filmed in a longer moment and cut, or aired as a longer moment/actual hug in one of the international versions).

Right before the scene fades into the next one we see Shane turn herself even more into Oliver's left side and tuck her head, as if she's going to bury her face in his shoulder. I wish we'd been gifted with more of this moment! Look at the way she tucks her arm into him and tips her head - she even kind of pushes her hip into his side. I just love this moment a lot.

1) Shane is shown to be freaking out when closed in the vault. Her fear seems to trigger at odd times? She's fine when she learned there's 13 hours of air; she's fine when she learns there's actually less than 5 hours of air; she's fine when she's bored and wants to play a game; but Katherine might be dead so she freaks out? I get it, she believes their fate to be tied together but then why wasn't she more fearful before they started reading the letters? It just doesn't make a lot of sense.

I think for a large part of this Shane was doing a good job of distracting herself and focusing on something else. But reading the letters made them both emotional: they connected with something poignant in those letters. They're reading about two people who fall in love despite their circumstances and share something beautiful even if it's only words - and then find out at the end that these two people may not have actually been able to be together. Not only does that mirror their situation, but all of a sudden it seems like they might never have the chance to be together either (to Shane) because, oh yeah, they're also in danger of not breathing anymore - and I think that just brought her fear to the surface. Also, it's a small moment, but Shane wasn't too thrilled about having to go into the vault at all. When she first sees it she hesitates and says "in there?" like she'd rather not go anywhere near it. I always took it as a small nod to the fact that Shane might not have a love of small spaces. We've never seen it mentioned again though, so who knows.

I know it's part of the story but he literally just wrote he's willing to give things with Holly another chance but then spends his time thinking of Shane when reading the letters.

Yes! And I have always taken this as another indication that, at this point, Oliver is saying what he feels he should have said long ago. He's making the effort he feels duty bound to make. I mean, I think part of him does want to put in the effort - but that part is his head. His rational mind, and probably his memories of Holly and his affection for her, and the importance he puts on his marriage vows. This is another reason why I truly don't think his heart is with Holly anymore, or in his marriage. AT NO POINT after he writes that letter and tucks it away does he think of Holly. He's reading powerful, moving love letters between two people and the only person he thinks about is Shane? And - we don't find this out until later, but still - the letter he does write to Holly isn't that romantic. He promises to try to see her dreams through her eyes, and says that he's willing to change, but there's nothing about how much he loves her or how her absence has affected his heart or his life. Maybe because Oliver didn't really believe when he was writing it that he was in danger? I don't know. But it's interesting.

That hand grab!! ... And then the way she looks at him as he sings along at the end when Rita wins?? I can't with this man. I can't with this woman.

Um, yes. Shane takes Oliver's hand and he just ... short circuits. It's hilarious. And they're so smitten with each other it's ridiculous.

And in that hospital scene, Oliver absolutely would have let anyone sleep on his shoulder like that. But it wasn't anyone: it was Shane, and it was Shane after all of the emotional intimacy they shared in The Treasure Box; and, once again, it was Shane turned into his side like Oliver offered to let her lay her head there, or she knew what she was doing when she did, because she's not facing forward in the chair with her head to one side like she just accidentally fell asleep and then her head sort of slid to one side. She's angled her body into his. Her feet are pointing toward him. Her hand is just under/next to his arm. How did they get to that moment? I NEED TO KNOW.

(I always understood Jordan to just be an angel. Definitely open to interpretation though.)

OLIVER IS THE ANSWER TO HER LETTER. His words, his faith, his person is the answer to Shane's childhood prayer she never forgot. He opens the wound but it's destined he's the one to help her heal.

Oliver is the embodiment of Shane's hope. Jordan couldn't answer her letter because it had to be Oliver, which he realized. And before he leaves the chapel he says to Oliver "take good care of that little letter writer." HE'S TALKING ABOUT SHANE. In the Impossible Dream, Shane tells Oliver that he's given her something she'll never forget: "a little hope for this world." Oliver. Is. Shane's. Hope. Oh my gosh! She's his heart, he's her hope. How tooth-rottingly, disgustingly sweet. I love it.

Extra point: Kristin can rock a leather skirt...like hot damn woman.

A) she always looks so good, but yes, this leather skirt and periwinkle/lavender top is one of my favorite looks on her, and B) I love her fashion and style and aspire to be that fashionable one day.

Holly and Oliver try to have a conversation with words and they fail.

This literally just occurred to me: Holly herself points out that she and Oliver suck at having actual conversations. Physically they click, so they obviously had a lot of chemistry, but they struggle to just talk to one another. Juxtapose that with Shane, who literally understands Oliver so well and on such a deep level that she not only understands him when no one else does, she can actively translate him. The reunion in HG instantly comes to mind here. She translates in real time for the audience what Oliver means ("And I might be the only person on Earth who understands what you just said!") But she also translates what he says for their waitress in OIAM ("Oh, he just means that people weren't having their booshes (or however you spell that) amused in the 20th century.")

In the Pilot and The Masterpiece, things get McSteamy so quickly but it never starts out that way ... He's trying for the sake of his marriage one last time but his head and heart aren't in it.

Exactly! The pull between him and Shane is magnetic. It's natural and impossible to ignore. This is why I maintain that even if Holly had changed her mind and asked to work on their relationship it never would have worked. Oliver was in love with Shane by this point even if he wouldn't say it or wasn't ready to acknowledge it (although Jordan played a part in making Oliver more aware of this truth. Hard to ignore when a freaking angel points out to you how important someone is to you.)

To Holly, kissing Oliver is akin to breaking promises to herself ... To Shane, kissing Oliver is akin to keeping promises.

Well, you just blew my mind. This is so true! Holly tells us that the only way she could see to live her dream was to stop kissing Oliver (insinuating that it was also to leave him behind); Shane's dream seems to just be ... Oliver. Sharing a life with him; delivering dead letters with him; loving him.

BRB, sobbing over this stupid show and these idiots in love.

I do think that Holly and Oliver parted amicably. I can't decide if I think that Holly asked about Shane, or if she made a comment about her (directly or indirectly). I kind of feel like Holly was more the type to make a comment than ask a question.

I am dying over the logistics of Oliver actually buying that porch swing. Well dressed Oliver scouring the aisles of Walmart at like midnight for the perfect porch swing while surrounded by a bunch of people in their pajamas and college kids on middle of the night snack runs because they're marathoning TV shows instead of studying? Hilarious. Headcanon accepted.

Back to the topic at hand...I do think some of the left/right stuff is purely ease of blocking

As do I. I'm definitely reading more into it than I'm meant to at some points, there's just SO MUCH of it and it's so fun to contemplate that I went for it.

THE HUG IN TRUTH BE TOLD.

hahahahahahaaa ... the way that Shane literally just drops everything and wraps her arms around him slays me. The stunned little pause where Oliver's arms are just up in the air for a second, as if he's somehow surprised at the force of her hug despite having watched her move toward him, and then he tentatively puts his arms on her back and then ... he holds her a little tighter. Ugh. UGH. I DIE.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT OLIVER IN FLANNEL WITH THE SLEEVES ROLLED UP??

Yes. A million times, yes. Oliver with his sleeves rolled up? Outstanding. Oliver in flannel? An absolute vision. Oliver in flannel with his sleeves rolled up? I C A N N O T.

There will be more. I need to make the gifs, but there's going to be a part 4. And probably 5. In fact, I think this is just going to become a series of Things I Need To Scream About™ with supporting gif evidence.

I'll try to break it up though, so there's just ShOliver stuff, just Shane stuff, and just Oliver stuff. And then all Postables stuff because they're the cutest little Postal family ever.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 12- Northumbria

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 3545

Warnings: Mentions of blood eagle.

11- Arvid/ The Sacrifice

...

"I did not take you to be the type to get seasick." Artemis says with a smile. She hands Ivar a scrap of cloth when his head emerged from the side of the ship. He spit into the sea the remnants of the bitter sick in his mouth before glaring at her. He snatches the cloth from her hands and wipes at his mouth unbecomingly before tossing it back at her.

"I am not fond of the sea." He mutters bitterly, groaning again as his stomach began to churn unpleasantly. Ivar scooted as far back into the corner he was in, treating the space as a safe haven. 

"The sea is unpredictable, Prince, I think we all fear it." Artemis looks out into the calm Northern Sea, its waves gently rocking the ship like a babe in a cradle. Both Ivar's and Artemis's people were excellent seafarers, it must have bren engraved in their blood, but the fear of open water was still a rational one. 

There were hundreds of ships down towards the horizon, and beyond, and a nervous buzz settled in the lower pits of her stomach. It was finally happening, all this talk of vengence and war, it all felt like stories one told a child at night.

The ship beside their own had her heart feeling heavy. Arvid's blue eyes were locked with hers as he grabbed an oar to help steer the ship. His wife was not far from him, watching the waves push and pull. She was a pretty thing, with yellow hair and blue eyes, exactly what every man here wanted. Her name was Alfhild, daughter of a well off farmer in Kattegat. 

A small wedding was arranged. It was a simplistic wedding, and they were married right before they departed to England. For such simplicity, Arvid seemed to be the star of the event. His dark hair was neatly combed with intricate braids styled down the front, and he wore his very best clothes. 

Arvid was a good man, if he could treat a slave with respect, then he would no doubt treat Alfhild in the proper way.

"Does it upset you?" Ivar interrupts her thoughts, gazing at her through his lashes.

"Hmm?" Artemis turns to him, her eyes swirling with mixed emotions. She began to fiddle with her leather padded vest, hearing Ivar suck his teeth at her feigning confusion. 

"Are you upset that he is now married?" He reworded his question, lifting the hood of his cloak to shield his face, "His wife is pretty." He says as an afterthought, resting his head on his hand. The nausea was coming back.

"He deserves happiness and a suitable companion." 

"I asked you how you feel about it, Artemis." Ivar lightly scolds her, adjusting his lifeless legs. He waits for an answer as he watches his older brothers bombard the front of the ship, no doubt feeling as if they could conquer the world. Perhaps one day they will.

"It does not matter what I feel. A slave does not have that luxury." She handed over the cloth again when he suddenly lurched over the side of the boat again. Groaning, Ivar sits back properly, snatching the cloth from her.

"You are not wrong," He says in agreement after a moment, "But you are no ordinary slave. You are Ivar the Boneless's slave. You are not average. You may think yourself downtroddened, but the gods have blessed you. This is where you belong." Artemis says nothing, though her eyes said it all. 

What was that? Where did that come from? 

Ivar stares back, unmoving, his eyes solely on her. His brown hair, growing longer by the day, blew in the salty breeze, and although his cheeks were reddened by the constant vomiting, it did nothing to tarnish his pleasant features. He looked more a man by the day.

"Do not look at me like that." He says finally, breaking their gaze in favor of looking out towards the sea.

"Like what?" Her lips began to curl into a grin, and she leans back against the wooden rail with her arms crossed. 

"Like that," Ivar grumbles, waving his hand around to make a point, "With those eyes." He wrapped himself tighter in his cloak as if to hide. Artemis continued to smile, focusing her gaze on her wool trousers now that she felt a sudden shyness engulf her.

"You should tell me another story," She tells him, "Perhaps the one of Odin's eye?" Ivar hums, bringing his eyes back to hers.

"Very well, but after, you must take your turn at the oars." Artemis nods, casting one last look at Arvid before focusing all her attention on the crippled prince beside her.

"As you wish, Prince Ivar."

...

Spring was at its zenith when they finally arrived.

They landed on their sandy beaches, in a place they called Northumbria. The sun wasn't always visable as the clouds dominated the sky for most of the day, just as it does in Kattegat. It was a rainy country, with constant passing showers. The air was a bit humid and sticky, not a pleasant feeling after traveling such distance. 

The Ragnarsons made their plans, attack and kill King Alle of Northumbria, and continue into Wessex. Ivar mounted his chariot as soon as they boarded off their ships, and they made camp in a field near by before regrouping into the fierce Heathen Army that struck fear into the hearts of men all throughout Europe. 

Hundreds of tents were set up, surely appearing as a maze from high above. It was a war camp, the first that Artemis had ever seen, and it was truly an intimidating sight. It was over crowded and noisy, and if it weren't for the ships being spotted by the kings men, the wild chatter would have given them away. She sees Arvid again, setting up his makeshift home and forge, as his new bride went to gather wood.

"How fairs the marriage?" She approaches him. Having enough of his struggling, she grabs the tarp on one end as he grabs the other, stretching it over the wooden stakes that he had previously imbedded into the earth. She wasn't much help, her stature did nothing to aid him, but he looked over his shoulder at her with a beaming smile, and the glow reached his eyes.

"I've missed you." He replies sheepishly, turning to face her fully while rubbing the back of his neck, "The marriage was arranged, as you know, but Alfhild is kind." A man steering a cart arrives with all their forging instruments placed in the back. 

"I'm glad the union has been in your favor. You will grow to love each other, in time." She says, reaching for the tools that were rolled into a thick cloth. Arvid placed his larger hand atop her smaller one, grabbing her attention instantly. 

"I do not love her." His tone was the most serious she's ever heard it, his eyes boring deeply into her own. Artemis gulped, nervously shifting under is gaze.

"Arvid?" She says his name hesitantly, removing her hand from under his.

"I do not love her." He repeated with finality in his tone, letting his arm drop to his side. Alfhild approachs with an arm full of wood. She had not witnessed their encounter, and she smiles at both her husband and Artemis.

"Artemis, it is nice to finally see you after such a long journey." She says, going over to Arvid to place a kiss upon his cheek. Artemis fought to give her a smile while watching the exchange, placing her hands behind her back in her awkwardness.

"Likewise, Alfhild. Would you like some help with the wood?"

"Nonsense," She replies, "You are not ours to command. You worry about the tasks that are expected of you." And with that she heads into the empty tent.

Artemis groans, dropping her face into her hands.

"Arvid, she is much too kind. If you cannot love her, than at least try to like her." She begs through her hands, her muffled voice causing Arvid to smile.

"If I am to see you every day, then that will be a challenge, but I will try my best, if you wish it so." Artemis peeks at him through her fingers, and he could still see through the slits how piercing those eyes were.

"You promise?" 

Arvid rolls his eyes but continues to smile at her, draping his arm over her shoulder in the most friendliest of hugs he could give.

"Yes, yes, I promise." She returns the smile gratefully. 

He drops his arm from her as soon as Ivar's chariot came to an abrupt halt in front of the cart, his reckless riding causing Alfhild to come out from the tent in curiosity.

Ivar glares at Arvid, moving his blue eyes to his slave. Artemis gazes at him curiously.

"Set up the forge with only what you need before nightfall. There is work to be done before we attack tomorrow, understood?" Artemis lowers her head.

"As you wish, Prince Ivar." Ivar scoffs at her before nodding his head in aknowlegement towards Arvid and his wife.

"May the gods grant you a happy marriage." Ivar's demeanor changes suddenly as he smiles, baring his wolf-ish teeth. 

"Thank you, Ivar." Alfhild replies when her husband remained silent. Ivar grunts, slamming the reigns harshly on the mare's back, the chariot disappearing into the mess of tents. Arvid grumbles, turning to look at his wife who joined the rest of the women in creating a fire in the middle of the surrounding tents.

"He reeks of jealousy. " Arvid grunts, grabbing a crate filled with supplies. Artemis joins him, placing the cloth covered tools atop a smaller crate that would be easier for her to carry.

"I suppose you were right." She follows behind Arvid, almost crashing into him when he turns to face her with a hardness in his eyes.

"Yes, and you seem to enjoy it, do you not?" Without another glance, he makes his way into the tent, leaving Artemis to ponder his words.

And she came to the conclusion that Arvid was correct.

...

King Alle was easily defeated. His army was no match against the larger one of the heathens. 

The battle lasted no more than an hour, and Artemis waited patiently in Ivar's tent for his return. She had no doubt he would return. 

"Artemis!" She hears Ivar's familiar voice call for her, and when she exited the tent, her hands flew to her lips in shock. 

He sat in his chariot smirking, with a naked man attached to the backend of the chariot from his feet. The man was filthy from head to toe, squirming as his hands were also bounded behind his back. He had the appearance of a fish out of water, or a worm tunneling out from deep in the earth. It looked humiliating.

"I present to you the King of Northumbria." He announces proudly, looking back towards the fat man who groaned for mercy over the dirty cloth that had been tied over his mouth.

"The king?" Artemis whispers, eyes raking over his bloody form. A Christian king brought down to nothing. It was a sad sight.

"He is to be blood eagaled," Hvitserk appears with the rest of the brothers, dropping an arm over her shoulder. Something about the term did not sit well with her, but she decided to ask anyway.

"What is a blood eagle?" 

"Something you would not bare to witness." Bjorn answers, lowering himself to one knee before the king.

"You are going to die now," The Saxon words escape Bjorn's mouth easily, though Artemis didn't understand a word of it. 

The king began to cry, large droplets of tears running down his dirty cheeks. He pleaded in his language once Bjorn removed the cloth from his mouth, babbling something about gold and silver, perhaps trying to bribe them for mercy, but this king did not know who he was dealing with.

"You've never been around such things, have you?" Sigurd slowly approaches Artemis, whispering in her ear while Ivar watches the fallen king.

"No." She replies, her eyes following both Hvitserk and Ubbe as they crowded around the naked king to humiliate him further. 

"He tortured our father and threw him into a pit of snakes until he died," Sigurd says darkly, "He is to receive the highest punishment that can be given." He crosses his arms, looking down at her.

"The blood eagle is not for the faint of heart." 

Sigurd was right.

There weren't many witnesses as the rest of the army stayed behind to protect the camp. Floki was there, smiling menacingly while watching as the king was placed over a tree stump. Helga and Tanaruz stayed behind at the camp as it was no place for a child. 

"Be brave, baby bird." Ivar says to her, and she watches after him as abandoned his chariot for crawling on the moist ground, settling himself directly in front of the crying king for the best view.

And so it began.

Bjorn did not hesitate to carve into the kings back, plunging the knife deep into his skin and dragging in down. The King cried out and Artemis's heart began to race wildly, watching the blood ooze from the large wound. 

Again, Bjorn plunged the knife parallel to the wound, carving down his back easily. The thick blood covered Bjorn's hands and dripped down towards the forest floor like a river. Once she heard the ominous sound of bones cracking, and how easily Bjorn pulled out the kings lungs to rest atop his shoulders, she immediately felt the bile rise.

She felt lightheaded, turning round and falling to her knees, heaving up the contents of her stomach with eyes tightly closely. She could recognize the thick liquid seeping into the leaves and onto her fingers.

With a shaky breath she lifts her trembling hand, her palms and fingertips coated in King Alle's sticky blood. She could smell the iron instantly, lowering her head again to release the remaining food she had in her stomach.

She pants, sweat clinging her hair onto her brow, feeling her rapidly beating heart would leap out of her. She blinks the tears from her eyes before crawling away from her sick and the blood.

...

Blood.

Bones.

Lungs.

Artemis shot up quickly, her head spinning from her sudden movements. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breathing was laborious, choking on the oxygen she struggled to inhale. Pushing her hair away from her face, she takes a ragged breath, willing herself to be calm.

"Finally wake."

She whips her head at the sound of his voice, meeting the familiar eyes of her crippled master. He sat up, leaning against the wooden frame of his makeshift bed. In his hands was an elaborate golden crown, shinning jewels embedded within.

"Veikr." Ivar says to her, using that same word, though there was no hostility in his tone. Instead he chuckles, shaking his head as he brings his fingers to the pointed edges of the crown.

"I thought I told you to be brave," There was light teasing in his words, though it was apparent that he meant them, "You failed."

"Forgive me." Artemis mumbles, scouting her surrounds. Ivar's small tent was illuminated by the very few candles Artemis had arranged herself at his bedside, giving the small space a strangely cozy atmosphere.

The bed was soft, layered in the furs she had choosen specifically for him. She grips the soft hairs under her palms tightly, a rising panic surfacing as her mind raced with scenes from eariler. She sniffles, swallowing thickly when she felt her throat tightening.

"Hush." Ivar tells her, almost commands her, though somehow his voice was the most soothing it's ever been. The hot tears began to blur her vision, spilling past her lashes and down her cheeks. She felt her throat tighten as she fought to keep in her whimpers.

"Artemis," He calls out to her, and she when turns again to look at him, he raises a brow, "Stop your crying. Sit beside me." She sniffles again, her tears not masking her bewilderment. She waited for him to laugh and tell her to get out.

"You look foolish," He says instead, "I said stop your crying and sit beside me. You sound like a whimpering babe without it's mother. Come on." He beckons her with his hand, satisfied when she finally scoots back to sit up against the wooden frame as he did.

"Here," Ivar hands her the crown, watching her grasp it with trembling fingers, "It is Alle's crown." The distraction calms her for a moment, her curious eyes raking over the gold. She was holding the crown of a dead man.

"Saxon work is impressive, but I think you can do better. What do you think?" Artemis licks her dry lips, her finger leaving a print of the smooth edge of a ruby. 

"You want me to make a crown?" She says to him with watery eyes.

"Mm, perhaps," He shrugs, fiddling with the edges of the fleece blanket he was under, "I might need one in the future." She remains quiet after that, hearing the crackle of the fire and the murmuring of the men outside the tent.

"Prince Ivar?"

"Yes?"

"What happened?" Ivar chuckles, snatching the crown back and placing it under the bed before crossing his toned arms over his bare chest.

Oh. 

Had his chest been bare the entire time?

"You fainted," He smirks, "Like the little baby bird that you are." She frowns, ripping her eyes away from his glistening skin and onto her hands. 

"I've not seen such cruelty before." She says quietly, remembering the king's screams vividly.

"Cruelty?" Ivar scoffs, "He deserved his fate and more." 

"He was a Christian king." She responds.

"He was a worthless Saxon." He spits, yanking at the collar of her shirt to pull her torward him. She yelps, their eyes clashing as he brings their faces so close, the tip of their noses almost brushed.

"Who are you to pass judgement, hm? Are you a god?" Artemis hurriedly shakes her, not wanting to ignite his anger further.

"Well?" Ivar insists.

"No." She finally squeaks, and he releases his grip on her, only somewhat satisfied. He pauses, an angered breath passing his lips.

"When I first came to England with my father," He begins, "I did not know it would be the last time I would see him." He wasn't looking at her, but she could see how his eyes glossed over, his blue irises appearing red from the candle beside him.

Artemis listens intently, picking up the sadness in his tone even though he tried to hide it. She fiddles with her fingers, feeling an awkward and tense air around them.

"He surrendered to them. Do you know what he told me as his final request?" 

"No." He turns to face her again, slinking forward on his toned arms to get a good look at her.

"He told me to avenge him. To lead an army into England and enact revenge." Ivar was so close to her again, just a breath away as they stared each other down in the dying candle light.

"Alle tortured him, threw him into a pit of venomous snakes and watched him die. I'm certain you have heard the story," He spits, his lashes fluttering as he fought to control his emotions, "And you think us cruel? What do you know of having a father murdered unjustly?" 

The question sounded rhetorical, but his eyes were begging for an answer. Artemis says nothing at first, looking away from his intense gaze, pushing a lock of matted hair behind her ear. She sighs, biting her lower lip before facing him again, her features hardening.

"What do you know of being stolen away from a father?" She counters back, watching him jerk away from her as if burned. Ivar frowns, her words taking some sort of affect on him. He clenches his jaw, the rolling of the muscle poking through the skin of his angular face.

"Sleep," He commands suddenly, moving forward to push her down enough to lay back against the furs. Her confusion was evident, but he ignores it, resting against his pillows and placing an arm behind his head. 

She had her own cot in the slave tent. Which she should be in. Not with Ivar.

"Prince-"

"It is late," He cuts her off, "You are unwell. I'm trying to keep you safe like I said I would." 

"Yes, but-"

"You want to venture out in the darkness? The men will not be kind. Go on if that is what you wish." 

Well, she supposed he was right.

Ivar chuckles to himself when she curls up into herself, her hand gripping the furs. He reclines further under the blanket, turning his back to her and scooting to leave as much space between them as possible.

"Go to sleep," He grunts, "You will return to your own tent and duties come daybreak." And with that he blew out the candles beside him, and the entire tent descended into darkness.

... 

Veikr- Weak

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @rastakami23

@heavenly1927​ @didiintheblog​

[bleepblopbloop56]

The Murder in the Dressing Room

Chapter 8: Because I Love You

Just a small note: im so excited for you guys to read this one you have no idea. going through the editing process this week has somehow made it my favorite chapter in the whole story i swear. Alright also need the routine stamp of Edited By @pathos-logical who made this what it is today i swear

Warnings: unsympathetic deceit, abusive deceit, manipulative deceit, toxic relationships,slight blood mention, slight medication mention, unwanted kissing, a litttlleee bit of unwanted touching.

---

"Hey there, beautiful~" A handsome stranger in a yellow button up smiled down at him, sliding into the stool at his right. "Can I buy you a drink?" Normally Roman wouldn’t have thought twice about refusing the offer, but the irritation lingering in his chest made him reckless. He traced his eyes over the man’s face, gaze catching on his green eyes. He couldn't tell what it was, but something in them made Roman want to say yes, want to listen to every word he said. 

… Just one drink can’t hurt, he decided, requesting just a diet coke while raising his eyebrows at the man. He didn't complain, which Roman took as a good sign.

"I'm Ethan, but you can call me Dee," he introduced himself, offering his hand.

"Roman," he said, taking the hand and holding it for a moment longer than necessary. He couldn't help it- those eyes were sucking him in and putting him in a daze. 

"So what are you doing here, Roman?" The way the man- Ethan- said his name made his heart skip a beat. "Looking for anything from tonight?" The way he smirked made it clear he didn't mean anything so much as anyone, and he was looking at Roman like he was the most beautiful man in the world. It felt good to be flirted with. Logan sure as hell didn't do that too often. 

Logan… 

"Me and my boyfriend are fighting," Roman chuckled nervously. “I just wanted to have fun for a bit and forget about him." Roman scooted away, suddenly rethinking coming here. He loved Logan, he just… got so frustrated with him sometimes. He'd spent nearly every day at work for the past few months, even his days off. He worked and worked and left no time for Roman. All he wanted was some attention. That wasn't too much to ask, right?

Ethan frowned like Roman had just told him Logan had locked him up in a tower. He leaned forward a little, seemingly unconsciously bridging the space Roman had put between them. The shifting lights of the club shadowed his eyes and threw the scar on his face into sharp relief for a second, making him look… dangerous. "You deserve better."

Roman laughed purely out of shock, a little taken aback by how serious he sounded. He tried to deflect, to take some of the blame off Logan, but Ethan steamrollered right over him. "You look lonely. Don't you want to forget yourself and be someone else for a night? Don't you want to the star of the show for a change?"

Ethan had seen right through Roman- hell, he'd practically read his mind, reaching down into his soul and pulling up wants he couldn't even admit to himself. Roman wanted to move back and put some distance between himself and Ethan- or maybe just the uncomfortable truth- but then Ethan smiled, slow and deadly as any poison. "A guy like you shouldn't be lonely tonight."

Roman’s breath sped up against his will. A hopeful grin crept across his face in a way he hoped didn't look too eager. "Maybe…" He leaned in, maybe a little more than he should. "Could you… could you make that happen?" 

Ethan… no, Dee, quirked an eyebrow at him, his smirk deepening to something lethal, and struck the killing blow.

"Anything you want…" 

And god, Roman wished he could have the excuse that he was drunk that night, to say he wasn't thinking clearly when this man pulled him away into his huge house and made him feel like he was the most precious treasure in his collection. To say he was high or drunk or drugged when he woke up in another man's arms wishing this movie star life could always be his. He wanted to say that he didn't enjoy that night, that he thought of Logan the whole time, that he didn't mean any of it. But he couldn't lie to Logan… Not like that. 

Street lights lit up Dee's face as he drove down the winding streets. He'd been quiet since they'd left the hotel; whether that was good or bad was anyone's guess. Roman sat beside him just as silently, lost in thoughts of the night everything went wrong. The first of many "worst mistakes of his life". Without even realizing it, tears began to slip down his face.

Dee's hand rested on Roman's knee, thumb rubbing in small circles but not moving any farther up his leg like they usually did. He glanced over and put a fake pout on his face, the kind he was so good at. It made Roman sick. 

"Why are you crying, baby?" Roman stayed silent. "We're going home! Don't you wanna go back home with me?" Dee took his eyes off the road to wipe off the tears, and despite being a sweet gesture, Roman could only read it as a threat. Everything Dee did now felt like one- he'd never be safe around him again, not after this.

He forced himself to nod his head slightly, sniffing and wiping at his own eyes. He was lying, but he had a feeling saying "no, I want to go back to Logan and I want you to leave me alone forever" would make Dee slam the car into a tree. Dee smiled at him, turning back to the road.

“Why are you doing this, Dee?” Roman asked quietly. He didn't know what he was expecting to hear. Maybe “because I'm evil’ or ”because you’re mine”- something he could understand, something that would make sense, at least with Dee’s twisted worldview in mind. What he did not expect was the soft “because I love you” that came from the man, sounding as genuine as it had all those months ago.

“Because I love you, Roman,” Dee smiled, cupping his cheeks in his hands, "and I want to marry you." Dee hadn't waited for an answer after proposing- he’d immediately slipped the ring onto Roman’s finger, pulling Roman back in when he stumbled back in surprise. He leaned down and kissed Roman, not caring that he didn't reciprocate, ignoring how Roman tried to squirm out of his grip.

Roman's mind was racing a million miles an hour. Marriage? He had been trying to work up the courage to break up with Dee for weeks, and now he thought it was the time for marriage? 

"Don't you think that's a little fast?" Roman tried nervously, putting his hands on Dee's chest in an effort to keep him away without showing it. "I mean- Dee, baby, we've only been dating for a year," he chuckled, trying desperately to keep his voice light. He looked down at the ring. The bright diamond caught the light, a promise of more of this picture-perfect life to come… The sex, money, clothes, attention- all of it was right in front of him. Everything Roman had ever dreamed of, and all he had to do to get it was say yes.

"Do you not want to marry me?" Dee's eyes held something dangerous in them, and Roman read the question for what it was- not a question at all, but a threat.

Roman stared back at him, trying to make his mouth form any words that weren't "of course I do" trying to say that this had gone too far, that he wanted to go home, to see his friends, family, Logan, all the people Dee had made him cut ties with. 

"I'd love to, Ethan," he smiled wearily, standing on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Even at that moment, he’d felt like he’d made a deal with the devil, and every time he looked at that ring he was reminded of the price he paid.

"How's your head, baby?" Dee asked. "I have some ibuprofen in the glove box if you need it." Roman wasn't all that willing to take anything Dee offered, but he was reluctantly grateful to hear it- getting slammed into a wall hadn't exactly left him feeling peachy. It could've been worse, I suppose, he thought. At least he didn't hit hard enough to dent the wall… or my skull.

He reached in the glove box, muttering a meek thank-you as he did. His hand hit against something long and thin wrapped in cloth, and when he peered in to get a better look, he was met with the sight of spots of dark red covering the fabric. He almost jerked his hand out and slammed the glove box shut, and only the knowledge that Dee was watching kept him from doing it. He slowly pulled out the bottle of pills, shaking so badly that he almost couldn’t unscrew the cap.

When his hands finally steadied, Roman took three and popped them into his mouth, wincing as he swallowed. While mumbling out another thanks to be safe, he vaguely made the connection that when Dee had apologised, it was specifically asking for forgiveness, not to make Roman feel better. Had it always been like that? No… He had to have been earnest in the beginning. Roman wouldn't have gone with him if he wasn't. Right? 

"Why are you so quiet, my prince?" Dee cooed, glancing over every few seconds to look at his love. His Prince Charming… 

"Hey, Prince Charming!" Virgil called, throwing a pillow across the room at the pair. "Back off on the PDA, I have virgin eyes." He dodged the pillow when Logan threw it back at him, laughing. He had started calling Roman that after he’d walked in on Roman serenading Logan with Disney songs in the kitchen, and Roman would be lying if he said he didn't like it.

Roman dropped to a knee, bowing to Virgil with a look of mock regret on his face "Oh King Virgil the Virgin, how will you ever forgive my misdeeds?!" He threw a hand on his forehead, flopping onto his back like a Victorian mistress who’d just gotten a whiff of her vivid green wallpaper. "My only hope is that you continue to let me rule over this humble kingdom under you!" Roman kept his eyes shut tight, trying not to break, but when Logan of all people started snickering, he burst out laughing and let the act drop. Virgil was laughing too, they all were, and that was the best thing about them. They were always laughing, everything was fun with them.

And now Virgil was gone… 

And now he was back with Ethan… 

Now he'd ruined it all.

Roman let his tears fall freely. Sitting beside the murderer of his best friends and his brother, it occurred to him- not for the first time in the relationship- how completely and utterly trapped he was.

"I'm just… thinking about Remus," he whispered, wiping his tears with the top of his shirt. It was only partly a lie; he wasn't just thinking of Remus, he was thinking of everyone. Remus, Virgil, Thomas, Logan- all of them were clawing out of his brain and finding their way down his face. But Remus was family, and hopefully that was someone Dee would allow him to grieve for…   

But Dee didn't look sympathetic. "You didn't need him," he said coldly, pulling into their house- no, his house. Roman didn't belong there anymore. "I did you a favor, Roman. Now you can focus on me." Roman must've done something with his face, because Dee's coldness turned right back to sweetness. "Now we can focus on us."

Roman nodded even though he knew that wasn't right, stomach twisting in knots at the reminder that he was the reason people died- that no matter how indirectly, it might as well have been him who’d killed them. That he was only here so Dee wouldn't hurt anyone else

"Remember the rules?" Dee asked, staring down at his passenger before unlocking the doors. The light, casual malice in his voice made Roman think of the knife in the glove box, and he nodded jerkily, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. They'd gone over them three times in the car; they’d been drilled into his brain by now. He thought he’d break down if he had to hear them out loud one more time, but- "Say them," Dee demanded, and Roman obliged. 

"One hand on you at all times." He started with the easy one, voice strained to the point of breaking to keep from bursting into tears. "If I run, you'll kill Logan. If I scream, you'll kill Logan." His voice was cracking. "If I call for help, you'll kill Logan…" Dee smiled at him, leaning in and kissing Roman sweetly as he unlocked the doors to the place Roman had once called home. Hand on Roman's back, Dee pushed him gently through the house. They walked through the living room, spare bedrooms, the small library, passing everything until they were in the very back. Roman almost lost himself in the haze of familiar scenery for a few minutes, but then-

"Dee? Dee, our room is back there, Dee where are we going?" Roman couldn’t help how his voice pitched up in terror, and his attempts to dig his heels in were to no avail; Dee just shoved him forward more forcefully. He threw open the door to the basement- the one room in this huge house Roman had always been too afraid to go into, the one that locked from the outside. 

"I have some business to do, my prince, I'm going to have to leave you here for a bit," Dee said with a fake pout. Nonsensically, almost hysterically, Roman thought that all his expressions were fake- nothing about him was real. Not anymore.

"Please don't leave me here, Dee," Roman cried, trying to follow him up the stairs. "Please, I promise I won't leave, Ethan-" but the door slammed shut, and the lock clicked behind him.

---

One thing that Ethan didn't mention was that no matter how closely Roman followed the rules, no matter how good and obedient he was, Ethan had always planned on killing Logan. Nothing Roman could do or say would've convinced him otherwise. 

Ethan was in love with the idea of Roman, in love with having someone beautiful to wake up beside and do everything he said. He loved having his little plaything, and one person was trying to keep that from him. And that just wouldn't do… 

The murder in the dressing room taglist:

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