#also ironically i think they made her breasts smaller

[lapsko]

why did trigger yassify falin's body like that

[atiny-piratequeen]

𝓝𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

𓆩⟡𓆪Summary:

When two rival kingdoms send their men to you to ask for your hand in marriage to bridge the gap between kingdoms, you have a quite...unique way of getting everyone to cum together.

Errr, come together.

Nah, it was right the first time.

𓆩⟡𓆪Pairing: Lee Juyeon (The Boyz) x Fem! Reader x Jeong Yunho (Ateez)

𓆩⟡𓆪Genres/Aus: Non-Idolverse, Royal AU, Hybrids (Snow Leopard, Netherlands Dwarf Rabbit, and African Wild Dog, Respectively), Smut, Poly Endgame

𓆩⟡𓆪Tws: Swearing, Insults

𓆩⟡𓆪Sws: Consensual Chase Kink, Pred/Prey Undertones, Size Difference (Reader is smaller than the boys. And if you aren't irl, guess what? You are now. Live your smol dreams babes), Teasing, Blowjobs, Handjobs, Breast Play, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Cum Swallowing, Marking, Riding, Anal (mxm), hints of Scent Kinks, Stomach Bulge, Slicking, mentions of ruts/heats

𓆩⟡𓆪Rating: Explicit/Mature (18+)

𓆩⟡𓆪WC: 3.7k

𓆩⟡𓆪A/n: Im a damn day late but here is my Secret Santa '23 entry for @cultofdionysusnet for, ironically, my darling Jasper (@starlitmark)

I was already like WOAH when I got you as my receiver but I think its pretty dope you also were my secret Santa *wheeze* I hope you like it, even if it's late.

𓆩⟡𓆪AO3| Taglist Form (Please make sure your urls are updated and able to actually be tagged) | Commission Sheet𓆩⟡𓆪

𓆩⟡𓆪Network Ping- @kwritersworld | @kdiarynet | @k-vanity | @cultofdionysusnet𓆩⟡𓆪

𓆩⟡𓆪©atiny-piratequeen. do not repost, translate, or use my works𓆩⟡𓆪

“You and I will not be seeing eye to eye on this. I arrived first, I asked for her hand first, and I will not bow down to some… dog .”

An audible growl filled the room, a reverb as the man across the way’s lip finally curled up. 

“I’ve listened to you hiss and spit nonsense at me for half an hour, if you’d like to do more than that, I’d be more than happy to entertain that, but if all you intend on doing is make cheap shot swipes at me, it's obvious who it is she should choose to take her hand.”

You sit with your ankles crossed, your hands in your lap, watching the two men bicker at one another. 

The first man is Juyeon, sent from the land of Lucid Dream. It was a place born of ice and snow, it seemed fitting that their Crown Prince was a snow leopard, his speckled tail twitching in agitation as he glared down his much bigger rival.

This being Yunho, an African wild dog sent from the kingdom of Eternal Sunshine, who stood taller than Juyeon, stared him down with an unimpressed stare, his ears, also spotted, flicking to and fro as he made steadfast eye contact with the two of them. 

“Milady, I don’t think this one is going well. I don’t know how the meetings got mixed up like this-probably Donghyuck again-but I can escort them out immediately if you would like to. Before things get too…rowdy?” your consultant whispers beside you, eyes flicking back and forth between the two apex hybrids. 

You hum, your nose twitching slightly. 

They both smelled quite nice. How very coy of their respective Kingdoms to send hopefuls to you that were bordering on their respective ruts. 

A smile crosses your face, you stand, and in an instant, both men pause in their arguing, eyes fixed on you. 

“Lucid Dream and Eternal Sunshine, long have you two been at odds with one another, no? If my recollection of history goes, your two kingdoms have been in a bitter, decades-long spat with one another, right?” You step down from your post, your hand soft and delicate within your consult’s hand as he assists you. 

“Milady-”

“I will be fine, Xiaojun. Tell Mark and Donghyuck to go prepare for me. It won’t take long, I made my decision.” 

Xiaojun looked at your small form, pursing his lips in concern. Leaving you, a rabbit, in a room with a wild dog and a snow leopard seemed to be the LAST thing he wanted to do, but a simple quirk of your brow settled any unsaid complaints he had and he merely sighed and nodded, making his way out of the room.

The sound of your heels against the grand marble floors echoes as you make your way to the two of them, without a doubt picking up on the competing pheromones rolling off of them both in waves. 

They straighten their backs, looking at you with a noticeably gentler look. 

“It will take them some time to prepare my room, I imagine.” 

Neither men said anything, though you can see their tails stand still, their ears perked. 

The corner of your lips tilt slightly, how cute. 

“The two of you can prove yourselves to me in a different way. If my kingdom is to be the bridge, we will do things my way.” you speak slowly, removing your heels and setting them aside. The two men stare, blinking slowly and curiously while you make your way to the door, a smile tugging at your lips as you feel their gaze on your smaller form. 

“Let’s see who’s faster.” 

You toss the door open, darting down the hall in a flash, and laughing to yourself as you count the seconds it takes before there is an eruption of noise and movement behind you. 

You’re grateful for Xiaojun knowing where you were going with your untold portion of your orders to him, as the halls are relatively empty. Any servants mulling about were on alert and the moment they see you rushing down the hall, jovial and full of energy, they press themselves to the wall, keeping themselves there as two blurs rush by moments later. 

“Stupid dog, move! She’s mine!” Juyeon rushed by, his eyes narrowed as he followed the scent down the hall. Yunho growled, his legs long and swift, making sure Juyeon did not overtake him in speed. 

He wouldn’t lose. Failure was not an option. If the Princess wanted her soon-to-be betrothed to win in a challenge of speed-and if it came down to it, strength-he wouldn’t back down. 

Especially not to a trash-talking feline from their rival kingdom. 

Yunho narrowed his eyes, the scent made a sharp turn, but it was faint. 

Instead, the scent had subtle stronger traces to the right. He turned, rushing down that way while Juyeon continued down the main hall. 

The feline’s tail twitched when he saw him break off, but he ignored it, keeping his eyes focused on the hall he was running down. 

You were…beautiful. He’d been sent with a mission in mind and he intended to follow through, to have your hand, but the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew he’d be the one to sweep you off your feet. 

He’ll be damned if they lost to a clumsy dog from that place . 

Juyeon swore when he found the hall was a dead end. A window was open, a silken curtain blowing in the wind. Out of it, was an avian, clearly some form of messenger, carrying a torn piece of the dress you had worn before him. 

He’d been duped. 

“FUCK!”

Yunho had better luck, finding you rushing through the halls while wearing a robe you’d taken from a passing servant. He let out a bark of excitement, the thrum of the chase overriding his senses as he barreled down the hall. 

The decorative pins and chains on his outfit jingled and chimed as he got closer to you and you smile to yourself, slipping into a room and tucking yourself into a laundry chute, sticking your tongue out at the large dog as he stuck his head through the opening, eyes wide with excitement as you slide from view. 

“Gonna have to try harder than that~” You tease, skipping as you step out from the other side. 

Behavior unbecoming of a queen? Possibly. But if you were to tie your life to someone, why shouldn’t you have fun? If they couldn’t do this much, how can they expect to bring your kingdoms closer?

You dust yourself off, your ears twitching ever so slightly before you look around the laundry room. It was deathly quiet inside and you feel yourself freeze. 

Someone is inside. Watching. 

You don’t move anything but your head, locking eyes with something reflective and gold in the dark room. 

The moment you do, it lunges at you, and it took a moment longer than you expected to force your brain to catch up to speed. In those moments, you feel your clothes being grabbed, and you stumble, nearly colliding with a wall when a strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you with ease. 

“Well, that was a pretty neat little trick you did there, my beloved. But it seems I’ve caught you. What do I win?” Juyeon inquired, and you can smell his scent thick in your nose, his heartbeat pounding against his chest and your back. 

You smile and turn to him, your own heartbeat thundering loud as you place a kiss to his nose. 

“Another round.” You smile and slip from his grip, shrinking your arms as close to your body as you can and sliding the robe you had taken from a servant off, rushing out of the room as Juyeon swore behind you. 

The hall isn’t far from your room. You figure everything is ready and if the boys couldn’t catch you by the time the door closed, your little game was over and you’d win. 

Did you want to? Probably not, but it was still fun. 

A crash sounds from behind you, and you hear two sets of footsteps approaching, the hall flooded with pheromones. 

“Move, dog!”

“Like hell, cat. Back off!”

You glance over your shoulder and find both of the men right on your heels. 

“Lady Y/N!” They call to you at the same time, and it takes a moment for you to get your bearings, your nose twitching ever so slightly. You sniff, the smell of their combined scents flooding your senses. 

Aren’t they too close?

You squeak in surprise as both of them stumble over each other, tripping and falling onto you in a heap. The air leaves your lungs and a startled yelp fell from your lips, in an instant, both of them are picking you up, panic clearly set into their features. 

You feel a familiar heat settle in your core, and you realize the repetitious sound in your ears is your own heartbeat. You smile at the two men, and no doubt by now they can smell your arousal. 

“Are you okay?” Juyeon inquired, his fiery disposition from before gone as he gently cupped your face, his hand warm to the touch. Yunho checked you over visually, eyes rolling over your body, looking for bruises or worse, blood.

Instead, he’s met with your flushed gaze, your chest rising and falling quickly. 

“Looks like you both got me.”

The two men exchange a look with one another before looking back at you. 

“Technically, I caught you first.” Juyeon interjected. Yunho narrowed his gaze at him before sighing. 

“I’ll leave, I just want to make sure you both didn’t get hurt when I fell on you.” 

You take his hand and Juyeon’s, a spark in your eyes as both of them look at you curiously. 

“Lady Y/N?”

“If you boys don’t mind, let’s try one more thing. I’m sure that will settle this once and for all.”

They exchange a look with one another and nod slowly, curiosity making both of their respective tails sway to and fro. 

-x-

“My, you two are quite pent up mm?” You let out a faux pout, a cock in each hand as you stroke slowly. There’s a wicked glint in your eye as you look up at the two, delighted by the way they both seemed adamant on holding back and not ‘crumbling’ before the other. 

Poor things, they still think this an either-or situation. 

Your ears twitch ever so slightly, picking up every sharp gasp and low groan from the two of them as you stroke faster, twisting one hand while you gently squeezed with the other. 

“M-Milady-” Juyeon grit out, biting his lip so hard you could see small indents from his fangs. Yunho wasn’t much better, letting out unintelligible pants and growls, seemingly trying to keep himself from actually speaking so he didn’t make a fool of himself. 

“It’s fine, Juyeon. You already won. Both of you have.”

Both of them sober slightly, looking at one another with a competitive spark before jolting when you bring your lips down, breath fanning over the head of their cocks as you run your tongue over them. 

“Let’s get along well, okay~?”

The two buckle, scent thickening with arousal when they finally pick up on your own heat as you shift below them. 

They’d stirred something inside of you, it’s only right for them to take responsibility for it. 

“A-as if I’d get along well w-with someone like him.” Yunho grit out, his cock throbbing in your mouth as you tease his head with your tongue. Juyeon hissed at him, turning his head sharply.

“F-feeling’s mutual. I doubt a stupid ass dog could pleasure her, anyway .” He grit out. Yunho’s eyes blazed with the challenge and you roll your eyes below them, giving both of their cocks a squeeze. They buck and jolt, their attention landing back on you. 

“Play nice.” You warn, pressing their cocks together, dragging your tongue over their slits, keening at the mixed taste. “It’d be a shame if I didn’t get to taste more because you two can’t behave.” You sigh softly, letting your tongue roll over Yunho’s cock, then Juyeon’s, and back again. 

The two go quiet. Or, rather, as quiet as they could get as the occasional moan and keen roll from their lips, their rivalry temporarily placated by your actions. 

They were handsome, of course. No Kingdom in their right mind would send you someone less than average, but they looked better like this, faces flushed, panting, fingers flexing as they tried to keep their hands off of you. 

“That’s better.” You sit up, caressing their balls and smiling, your scent thick and sweet. Both of them unconsciously lean towards you, and you open yourself to them, perking so your breasts are spilling from the top of your dress.

An invitation, that’s what it is. 

They took it for what it was, cupping and groping one breast each as you raise your head higher. 

“I d-didn’t expect this nn…today,” Yunho growled, his cock throbbing in your small hand as he ran his lips over the sweet glands on the left side of your neck. 

Juyeon grunted in agreement, his tongue flicking out, dragging over your throat. The barbs at the center were soft, and you find yourself clenching on nothing as they kiss their way lower, greedy lips finding your nipples. 

You gasp and close your eyes, rolling their balls in your hand, trembling in their grip as you feel them running their hands down your body as they alternate between kisses to your chest and small, marking nibbles and bites. 

Juyeon’s hand found its way to your folds first, chuckling airdly as he rubbed slowly. You yip and clench on nothing, your hands stopping momentarily. 

“Ah, don’t you want us to bond, Bun? Don’t stop just because he’s touching you.” Yunho growled, sucking a spot into your breast you were sure wouldn’t fade easily after tonight. You narrow your eyes at him in challenge, but they flutter the moment Juyeon pinches and rolls your clit, his breath fanning over your ear. 

“You’re already so wet. Did it feel nice giving us the run-around. Leaving such a sweet scent for us to follow, it’s only right we pay you back in kind.” He growled, lifting his fingers and spreading them apart, showing you-and Yunho-the slick covering them. 

Your lips tremble as you look up at them, your head swirling in need as you watch Juyeon offer his messy fingers to Yunho. 

He stared, eyes narrowing in need for a moment before he sucked them into his mouth, fangs grazing Juyeon’s fingers before he pulled back, a deep growl pulling from his chest as he turned to you. 

“C’mere. Let’s get you comfortable.”

His definition of ‘comfortable’ was splaying you out with your legs spread in their laps, both of them kissing and biting at your necks as you squirming as you let them both stretch you, your slick making a mess of your ass, their hands, and their thighs below. 

“I-I’m ready!” You cry, arching high and clenching on their fingers, mouth falling open as one of them curls their finger up to brush against your gspot. Your cries are met with deep chuckles and a kiss from each of them as they slow only long enough for you to catch your breath. 

“Are you sure?” Yunho teases, his lips against your ear before he bites.

Your eyes widen and you find yourself squirting as you jolt, a yip leaving your lips. Both men let out amused keens, holding you so you wouldn’t fall as the sudden shockwave rolls through you. 

“So pretty~” Juyeon purred, pulling his fingers free, smiling like the cat that ate the canary as he ran his tongue over his fingers, licking them clean as you pant, trying to catch your breath. 

There’s a wet smacking sound above your head and you find yourself squished between the men. One glance across from yourself to the mirror they’d propped you up in front of and you found out why. 

Yunho had his hand fisted in Juyeon’s hair, pulling him in for a demanding kiss, chasing your taste on his tongue. The sight made you keen, and you cup their necks, running your fingers over their glands, smiling as they both shuddered. 

“It looks like you two are getting along just fine now, mm?” You purr. 

They part, panting as they stare each other down. 

“Yeah,” Juyeon mewled, his tail twitching and jerking in interest behind him. 

“I think we’ll get along just fine.” Yunho licked his lip and moved to grab you by the hips, picking you clean up. 

“Come, I think we’ve held back for too long. I’m aching.” 

You find it exciting how easily the two of them can move you at will. Strong, yet gentle hands positioned so you were straddling Yunho, staring down hungrily at his cock as Juyeon held his cock up. 

Your plan was simply to tease, but as you watch the two eye you hungrily, then eye each other with the same gaze, you realize maybe this was going to work a lot better than your playful mind had anticipated. 

Taking Yunho was a task in itself. Even with your slick, you were grateful Juyeon paused to coat the bigger hybrid’s cock in lube provided by your consultants (you’d thank Xiaojun, Mark, and Donghyuck later). 

“T-Tight-” Yunho growled, his canines pronounced the more he lost his composure, his hands gripping your hips tight. You cling to his hands, body shaking as Juyeon cooed sweet nothings to you, reaching to rub your clit and the base of your tail. 

“A-Ahn- fuck-” You swear, eyes closing as Juyeon’s feline purrs override your mind. 

“That’s it. Such a good wife you’re going to be for us. Open your eyes, Princess. You’re bulging.” He growled, cupping your jaw. You gasp and look down, eyes widening as you see the tell-tale bulge in your stomach. 

Had…had he grown bigger while he was inside of you?

The very thought made you gush on his cock, your hands falling to Yunho’s chest as you bounce on your own accord, eager to feel him deeper inside. 

“S-Shit- Y/N-” He swears, hands tightening on your hips as you ride him, your hips and ass slapping against his thighs. Juyeon watches, mesmerized as you swallow Yunho’s cock, your slick leaving a lewd, shiny trail on his cock that dribbled down to his balls. 

“C-Come…come here.” Your voice startled the snow leopard back into focus and he glanced up, pupils dilating as you open your mouth, tongue out for him. 

“G-Gimme.” You demand, and he doesn’t need to be told twice, standing up and cupping the back of your head. He doesn’t even have the time to open his mouth and be a gentleman, to urge you to go slow before you dive down, eagerly bobbing your head until you feel him touch the back of your throat. 

They both smelled so good, thick and hot and it made you crave more, especially hearing both of them moan and gasp your name. Yunho thrust his hips up, bouncing you in his laps and he would have probably knocked you off balance, had it not have been for the iron-clad grip your thighs had on his frame and his hands had on your hips. 

Juyeon kept himself anchored by cupping your head, and rubbing the base of your ears. He found your throat tightening at the motion and smiled wickedly. 

“Is that n-nice? Having your cute little ears rubbed while we claim your pussy and your throat?” He panted, hissing through his teeth as he watched you turn your teary, pleasure-struck gaze up to him, drooling as his cock pressed deep into your throat. 

“I c-can’t keep holding it back.” Yunho gritted, eyes flickering back and forth between your mouth and your pussy, both stuffed in such a lewd manner. 

You clench around him, a subtle sign you didn’t want him to, and thankfully both of them took the sign for what it was, fucking you and your throat with a mismatched tempo that eventually synched up. 

Every fiber of your body felt like it was alight with pleasure, and stars exploded behind your lids as you finally felt them flood your mouth and pussy. You feel delighted as you feel the mess between your legs, only sealed inside by Yunho’s cock (which still throbbed, almost as if he wanted to unload more into your tightness). Juyeon pulled you out of your musing when he pulled out of your mouth, panting like a beast as he looked down upon your kiss-swollen and saliva-covered lips. 

“That’s our good girl. Are you alright?” Yunho murmured, petting your head. You lick your lips, taking a moment to gather your barings before pressing into his hand, smiling. 

“You two don’t think we’re done, do you?” You inquire after catching your breath. They exchange a look of surprise with one another before quickly recovering and grinning. 

-x-

Minutes turned to hours, and positions changed. From you eagerly arching your back, nuzzling Yunho’s cock and teasing it with kisses as Juyeon takes you from behind to you biting marks into his ass while Yunho thrusts into him, keeping his cheeks spread with a devious giggle as his fiery voice melted into airy, near shy whimpers. Or the way Yunho trembled and groaned as you bite marks into his thighs while he greedily curled his tongue deep inside of Juyeon, reaching around to stroke him and milk another orgasm from the spent feline. 

By the time the three of you are actually satiated, you lay in a pile of noodle-like limbs, dazed and happy as you gather your bearings. 

“I think,” Juyeon panted, running a hand through his sweaty locks. 

“-this is the start to a wonderful union.” Yunho finished, nosing both you and Juyeon’s hair, clearly close to dozing. You blink.

“...oh, right, the kingdom thing.” You yawn despite both of them laughing. You motion for them to follow you to your private bath, cum dribbling down your legs. 

“C’mon, my sweets. We need all the rest we can get if we are to continue our… negotiations tomorrow, yes?” You wink at them over your shoulder, smiling as they appear at your side in a flash, heading deeper into the bathroom before closing the door with a click. 

“Right, negotiations. I’m sure that’s what we can call it.” 

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Taglist

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

@kimnamshiks @atiny-dazzlinglight @angel0taiyo @gettin-a-lil-hanse @jacksons-goddess-gaia @violetwinters @skmoonchild @seomisaho @drunk-on-hwa @soluvcore @twistedsiren @shymexican

[rickgrimesdoingrickthings]

*Whisper* "Every time you're covered in blood like this...it makes me want to take you in my mouth" 😳😳😳

The group had settled at a library inside a little shopping mall, sliding shelves and lighting warm little fireplaces using the own books and some boxes gave them some comfort. They had some supplies, they just needed to rest for some time. The area was rich, many shops and calm streets that could be explored, scavenged. Finally some peace. Finally some privacy, even if their rooms were actually just bookshelves, it was something- privacy had become so rare. The group had settled, some were already asleep, some taking watch, despite the calm that seemed it would last the rest of the night. The place still had some water and gas, everyone would be able to wash themselves if no one wasted. Once they arranged their own little warm space, first thing Rick did was to hug her from behind, nuzzle against her back, press his lips against her neck, breathe against her skin- he was so horny, to his shame- he had missed her so much, despite walking by her side every day, he had missed privacy so much- he had been so stressed- and now finally he could relax. Shyly, slowly, he kept poking her- little kisses, nuzzles, caresses, absolute invasion of her personal space with soft hugs and cuddles- love deprived cute stares, resting so close to her.... It was more than obvious what he wanted.

When they decided to do it, he took all his clothes off, already hugging her from behind again, sometimes even biting her neck a little- his thirst was so huge, he didn't know what had hit him, it made him shy a lot- but her warmth...such a lust...he craved so much, as well as her scent, her noises....all of her...he loved her so much.... He lowered her pants to her knee, spread her legs and pressed her a little against a smaller bookshelf, caressing himself a little to spread the fluid, gently but definitely not slowly starting to rock against her, such a shy fucking, despite wanting to be loud, he didn't want the others to hear them- one of his hands around her side, his other hand exploring under her shirt, massaging her skin, cupping a breast, exploring her whole as he kept filling her neck and temple and jawline with warm passionate kisses- he eventually teased her ass with his fingers, spreading her bottom more, hoping to make her blush, teasing, closing his eyes as he felt her warmth. Slowly it was impossible for him to contain and he started to moan, such delicate noises as he rocked- all of it felt so good...felt like heaven. Until he felt the scent of iron- blood. Slowly he stopped, checking on her- her period...she was bleeding... "Ahnm....Foxy....I think...mnm....sorry about that...." Rick's voice was low and soft, he was a bit worried- and he already had done quite a mess, now that he stopped to actually observe, now that the fire was illuminating them a bit better, he managed to cover his whole pelvis, some of his stomach and all of his dick with her blood. And when he tried to comb his hair back, he managed to stain his face as well, his hands were also vivid red. Rick tilted his head to the side and down a bit, unsure how to feel- he felt a bit...guilty. Had he hurt her? Or was that bleeding just natural? His eyes were confusing, looking at hers searching for answers. And then she said it... Whispered "Every time you're covered in blood like this…it makes me want to take you in my mouth"

The man parted his lips, cheeks got redder, she actually made him blush- blush hard- slowly he pressed his lips against hers, so passionately, deeply, hands caressing her sides, then craving to raise her shirt, part of him feeling a bit guilty for being so turned on like that- eventually he did, lips kissing her pale skin as he pressed her rather tenderly, nuzzling, against the wall of books- a soft bonk against the wooden bookshelf and his lips were kissing her ribs, the base of one breast, her nipple, kissed, licked then sucked- he had so much energy, it was evident, he was fast, and it was obvious how even so, he was holding back- some of the blood dripped from his hand to her chest, staining her nipple, small droplets of blood almost dripping down from her pink, perked bud- he briefly stared her with lust- briefly- well, she already had seen the worst of him- she had seen him do awful things...so....she wouldn't judge...right? She had whispered herself what she wanted to do to him...because of the blood... He didn't know he would enjoy it....he was surprised at himself, that part of his self he didn't know quite well yet, that was capable of biting throats off, massacring people with machetes... Rick licked her chest, following the trail of blood, until her nipple, licking it as well, sucking until all the blood was removed, and lingering a bit, warm tongue caressing the soft bud- he finally let go, his forehead resting against hers for a while- "Then go on...do what you wanna do...because...I'm already doing what I want..." Rick whispered, his gaze so different from usual- one could be afraid if not knowing he was an ally- even so, his voice carried such contradiction, a soft gentle harsh sound, and the little kisses over the corner of her lips...teasing.

[free-for-all-fics]

Part 3 of 3 of the Crossover Prompt! Here we are at the conclusion! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! ⚕️🤍

Your love story was left incomplete, but only because it was still being written. Before Louis knew it, nearly twenty years had passed and little Johnny wasn’t so little anymore. On his eighteenth birthday, Louis knocked on his son’s bedroom door before entering. He was hiding something behind his back. He wished Johnny a happy birthday and sat down with him for a few moments before pulling John’s final letter from his breast pocket. He revealed what he was hiding when he laid the letter on top of a book of some sort. John’s journal. He handed the mementos over to their rightful owner.

“What are these?”

“Birthday gifts from your father, only to be given to you on your eighteenth birthday and no sooner. In complying with his wishes, I’ve never read them. So don’t ask me what they say because even I don’t know. They’re meant for you. They’ve always been meant for you. Only you. Go on, read them. Privacy is best for this, so I’ll leave you alone. I’ll be waiting downstairs. Come down when you’re ready and we’ll finally talk about it. About him. Just like you wanted us to when you were growing up. Take your time. As much time as you need.” With his promise to John upheld, Louis patted Johnny on the shoulder and got up, closing his son’s bedroom door as he left and went downstairs.

As Johnny sat on his bed, he stared at the leather bound journal and the envelope in his hands. There was no return address written on the letter. There wasn’t even a recipient address. There were no postage stamps. Just ‘To my child’ written in the center with ‘DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 18TH BIRTHDAY’ written underneath it in smaller, bold text. He decided to read it first and save the journal for later. He slowly sliced the letter open, not wanting to tear the paper that contained the ghost of his father. As Johnny read, his father’s voice, his thoughts, his personality bled through the pages.

14 January 1918

My dearest son or daughter,

Today is your eighteenth birthday. Congratulations. It is a custom in my family to pass on a piece of wisdom when one reaches this age. I pass it onto you as my father passed it onto me. Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something is more important than fear. The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all. From now on, you’ll be traveling the road between who you think you are and who you can be. The key is to allow yourself to make the journey.

I also want you to know that, although we weren’t married when we learned we were expecting you, and I wasn’t proud of our affair, I loved your mother very much and thought of her often throughout my service. As I write this letter to you, you haven’t yet been born and are still growing, safe and warm in your mother’s womb. I cannot know if you’re a boy or a girl, but I do know you will be a baby. My baby. And I will love you all the same. I already do. I’ve never seen you but, someday, in a better world, I hope I will. I write to you of that day.

Together we walk, hand in hand. We walk and we look. And some of the things we see are wonderful, and some are terrible. On a green stretch of ground are ten thousand graves, and you feel hatred welling up in your heart. This was, but it will never be again. The world has been cured since your father treated that terrible abscess on its body with iron and fire. And there were millions of healers who worked with him and made sure there would be no recurrence. Their deadly conflict was waged to decide your future. Your friends did not spare themselves and were ruthless to your foes. You are the heir of what your father and your friends won for you with their blood. From their hands, you have received the flag of happiness and freedom. My child, be the standard-bearer of the great age they have made possible. It would be too tragic if the men of goodwill should ever be lax or fail again to build a world where youth may love without fear, and where parents may grow old with their children, and where men will be worthy of each other’s faith. Good night and au revoir till our work is finished. And until I see you, remember this. France lives. England lives. Vive la France. Long live England.

Though I wanted more than anything to witness your birth and get the chance to raise you and be a father to you, God had a different plan for me. Words cannot express how much I wanted to hold you in my arms, how much I wanted to share with you, to teach you about life, about love. But I cannot. Though the good Lord called me home before I could make it home to you and your mother, I’m still with you. Even when you can’t see me, I’m here for every milestone, for every step you take in life. I’m watching as you grow up into a fine young man or woman. I never held you, but I feel you. We never spoke, but I hear you. I never knew you, but I love you. Whatever the future holds for you, I hope you live beyond your years and find absolute happiness. I hope you lead a fulfilling life and that, whenever your time comes, I’ll be there to hold your hand and lead you into God’s kingdom. May God keep you and love you as I do.

If my wishes outlined in my will were honored, you will also have in your possession my journal, where I filled the pages with my memories and my special thoughts, special thoughts on the wonderful life God blessed me with. My journal was supposed to be for you. But as I write this, I hope you'll never see it. I just want to meet you. And tell you all these stories myself. But I guess if you're reading this now...things didn't work out that way. This is where your story begins. I'm sorry I won't be there to see it. It's a lot to ask, but I don't want you to be sad that I'm gone. I want you to be amazed that any of us ever had a chance to be here at all. Good luck. Happy birthday, my darling child. All my love.

Your father

Johnny didn’t come down for a good hour or two. When he did, Louis was sitting at the kitchen table, reading something. He set it down and turned his full attention to his son as soon as he heard the wooden stairs creak. Johnny’s tall frame filled the doorway as he just stood there, John’s journal in his hand. His fingers gently leafed through the aged and slightly yellowish pages, his thumb gently rubbing over his father’s initials embossed on the inside cover. There was a birthday cake with eighteen unlit candles on the table, but the cake could wait. Johnny knew from the age of seven that he was adopted and had to keep it a secret. Louis only gave sugarcoated half-answers appropriate for a boy his age whenever he had questions about his biological parents. Whenever Johnny asked about his mother and what she was like, Louis spoke freely about Madeleine. But whenever Johnny asked about his namesake, Louis shut up like a clam and only gave vague answers, with the excuse that he’d tell him about it when he was older.

Johnny wasn’t a child anymore. He was old enough to enlist in the military. He was mature enough to understand. He still had questions and Louis still had answers. Before anything else was said, Louis apologized to his son for not telling him what he wanted to hear sooner. He let Johnny know that he always thought about telling him about John when he was a teenager, but the right moment never seemed to appear and, before he knew it, Johnny was turning eighteen tomorrow. He still had his opportunity to fulfill John’s wishes, and he didn’t want to miss it. Louis invited Johnny to sit down and talk with him, and that’s what they did. They just sat and talked. It was very difficult to talk about John, especially his death.

Louis later admitted to you that he choked up and cried throughout it. Johnny cried too. But it was better that Johnny heard the stories from him than anyone else. He was with John before he went out on his last patrol, he was with him when the Germans spotted them, and he was the last one to see John alive since he was with him when he died. Louis was the only one who could tell Johnny the truth of what happened. Or, at least, the one person who could tell him the closest thing to the truth. The rest was just hearsay and speculation. But even after learning the truth of his biological father and his death, Johnny didn’t hate his adoptive father for it. Based on his recollection of what happened, it sounded to Johnny as if Louis did everything in his power to try to save John’s life, and failed through no fault of his own. Louis took out his lighter, lit the birthday candles, and Johnny made a wish and blew them out. In keeping up with birthday superstitions, he didn’t tell Louis what he wished for out of fear it wouldn’t come true.

Renault and Stevenson fought alongside the Allies in World War I. When World War II broke out in September 1939 and the Germans occupied France in May 1940, Johnny chose to enlist in the war and joined the Allied cause. As an able-bodied, twenty-one-year-old male, he felt that he had a duty to fight for his country, and he wished to follow in his biological and adoptive fathers’ footsteps and fight on the side of the angels. Louis drifted to Casablanca in French Morocco, North Africa, where he was appointed as Prefect of Police by Vichy.

Despite its neutrality, Casablanca wasn’t the safest place. Though a neutral zone, it was far from a peaceful paradise. There were all sorts of characters there, including many activists, artists, spies, writers, etc. It was filled with refugees fleeing from war zones or fascist police states, who were then targeted by all sorts of people seeking to exploit them. Leaving for a better place wasn’t impossible, but involved a prohibitive cost that most refugees couldn’t afford, and they often impoverished themselves further by trying to win the money through gambling. Organized crime thrived and the authorities were openly corrupt, with even American entrepreneur Rick Blaine having to pay bribes to corrupt officials to keep operating. The police shot people in broad daylight and routinely rounded up large numbers of designated suspects simply for the pretense of efficiency. And all that was before the Nazis showed up and started breathing down everyone's necks.

While stationed there, he adopted a stance of bemused neutrality and was a French police chief nominally loyal to the Nazi Germans. He professed no love nor loyalty for them, and made it clear he was only working for Vichy out of self-interest. He wasn’t happy with the Nazis stomping all over his turf and offered only the merest of help. He was both unscrupulous and corrupt, and had a tendency not to take his position as Prefect of Police all that seriously. Once more he was a Captain, just in a way that was a little different from the last time he held that rank. His reputation as an apathetic, cynical, and lecherous man that he garnered during his time after serving in World War I followed him all the way to Casablanca even twenty odd years later, so Renault embraced the corruption and vice that came with his police uniform. While Johnny genuinely loved his adoptive father, he knew that Louis was neither perfect nor a saint. He was well aware of Louis’ character flaws, including his greed, dishonesty, and tendency to overindulge in women, drink, and tobacco.

Captain Renault extorted many young and attractive women for sex in exchange for exit visas, whether they were married or not. He never saw any of them again after the transaction was complete. It was always a one and done kind of a deal. He was perfectly happy to drink or screw himself to death without a care for what went on around him, believing that doing so would numb his mind enough so he’d stop thinking about you. But it didn’t work. No matter how hard he tried to shut you out and distract himself with other women, he always found himself thinking about what might’ve been. About the future you could’ve had together if life didn’t force you apart. He often found himself sitting alone in his apartment, the room only lit by a single table lamp next to him as he held a glass of brandy in one hand and his pen in the other. He wrote about you in his journal or wrote letters to you that he’d never send. God help him, he couldn’t stop.

But then, as fate would have it, you were in Casablanca at the same time he was. By the time you reunited, Captain Louis Renault was living on his own while his son was fighting overseas. Though he technically wasn’t a widower, merely the ex-husband of someone who was dead, he didn’t think it insulting that others who didn’t know him or his ex-wife very well considered him to be just that. He and Madeleine still loved one another as friends, underneath it all.

In 1937-1938 there was an outbreak of typhoid fever. Louse-borne typhus fever was a familiar by-product of wartime troop and refugee movements, crowding in camps and prisons, undernourishment, and lack of bathing and laundry facilities. While there were vaccinations available, efficient methods of preventing typhus fever in places such as Africa and Egypt hadn’t been discovered yet, and it was highly contagious there. Methods of delousing were still cumbersome, and would not prevent reinfestation. For this, a French colleague warned, you would need to find a way to apply louse powder to the inner seams of clothing without undressing the wearer. Using a hand duster, you and other medical personnel pumped the louse powder dust up sleeves and skirts, down neck openings and waistbands of patients. The air space between garment and skin allowed for the even dispersal of the powder under pressure, and the procedure was much faster. Once the populace of Casablanca discovered how effective this treatment was, they enthusiastically turned up for treatment. In fact, louse powder became a black market commodity and acquired a reputation as a cure for insomnia, since those treated were able to sleep without the distraction of the lice, often for the first time in their lives.

While the station hospitals in Casablanca weren’t as well-equipped as the ones in Europe, one of your skills as a nurse was to adapt to any situation and make do with what you had. You were accustomed to working with limited supplies and were just as vigilant in your endeavors to prevent infection and make your patients as comfortable as possible. While you understood the danger and risks of typhoid fever, you weren’t afraid. You were already vaccinated against this highly contagious disease, so you continued your work as a nurse and were constantly active in the field. Even if you did become infected, you were prepared to take the necessary precautions and even willing to sacrifice your life if it meant saving others.

Most of your patients developed miserable symptoms such as fever and diarrhea, while others were laid up in hospital for six weeks or more. Much like you were during the First World War, you were diligent about maintaining good hygiene by adhering to a strict regimen of washing your hands with soap and uncontaminated water, using only fresh and clean supplies, and sanitizing and disinfecting medical equipment and anything else that may have been touched, especially by more than one patient. But despite the best combined efforts of yourself and your coworkers, there were still patients who inevitably succumbed. As you cared for your patients and watched over them from their bedsides day in and day out, you experienced secondhand the suffering of countless men, women, and children. You thought of Louis and how you looked after him when he was your patient so long ago. You thanked God that, like you, he was vaccinated against this terrible and deadly disease. You weren’t sure if your letters were reaching him or not, but you hoped that, wherever he was, he was healthy and safe.

In France, typhoid vaccination was permitted by the Académie Nationale de Médecine from 1911 and was made compulsory by the French Army in 1914. From 1914, young soldiers in the French army were inoculated upon enrollment and that program of systematic vaccination was considered a key factor in significantly reducing the rate of typhoid deaths. It remained at least as effective against typhoid as the previous vaccine and undoubtedly offered much protection to French and British troops. While the war had demonstrated the apparent worth of vaccination, debates continued about preparation, dosage, administration, and methods of evaluating efficacy and toxicity, as well as about the best type of vaccine available. In 1921, the Académie Nationale de Médecine called for vaccination to be extended, in a limited form, to the civilian population. It was recommended only for travelers, health professionals, and those in contact with an epidemic. Some doubts were later cast on the efficacy of the wartime vaccine against the paratyphoid fevers, and there were also concerns among the public that vaccination could have harmful side effects. However, other measures such as improved hygiene and screening of convalescents also contributed to reducing levels of infection.

You were working at one of the station hospitals and spent most of your time inside of a tent. There were several rows of identical tents pitched on the sandy plot of the desert, and it was nothing short of a miracle that Louis found you again. Through sheer luck you stepped outside and Louis just so happened to be in the right place at the right time. Despite how many years passed since the last time you saw each other in the flesh, he was able to recognize you immediately. He didn’t even think about what he would say to you after so many years apart, he just began walking towards you so quickly that he nearly jogged and, when he got close enough, he called your name. Your eyes widened but you didn’t have time to do much else because your vision went blurry and you fainted. You would’ve fallen into the sand if Louis hadn’t reacted fast enough to catch you. He swooped you up into his arms and laid you down gently, your head resting in his lap as he lowered himself to his knees. As he called for help, he stroked your face, your forehead, and your hair. Had the heat of the desert gotten to you? Oh, God, what had he done? He gave you too great a shock.

“Darling! Matron, matron!”

“What’s happened?”

“She fainted. I shouldn’t have tried to surprise her.”

“She’s been working under a terrific strain.”

“The hospital work has been too much for her.”

“Oh, you’re wrong. Six months ago, I thought she was in for a nervous breakdown, but she pulled herself through wonderfully.”

“She’s not going to have to look after herself anymore.”

With permission from the matron, Louis carried you to his car and drove you to his apartment to rest and recover. When you were later roused from your fainting spell, you found yourself in his bed with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He thought you’d be more comfortable there than on the couch. He was sitting in a chair across the room but was instantly at your side when he saw your eyelids flutter. He helped you to sit up then stand, one hand to hold yours and the other one to support your back while you walked together to the living room. You sat down on the couch.

“Tell me you’re better, and I can stop reproaching myself.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just— You stood there as if your feat was nothing, as if you didn't just walk a thousand miles to hold my hand, just in case I needed you. I did need you. I simply had no idea that I did. So, if I'm at a loss for words, I'm processing the enormity of your heart and soul, of how lucky I am to have met you.” Your eyes suddenly darted around the unfamiliar room. “Where have you brought me?”

“Home.”

“Home?”

“For now. At least until the war is over and we can go back to our house. The house that I got for you before I let myself see you. The house that I raised my boy in and where we’re going to forget that we’ve been away from each other for over twenty years.”

“Twenty years…”

“I’m annoyed with you, my dear. Here I am, lots of gray, more than my share of wrinkles, and you? You’re as young as ever. You fought off age, and refused to recognize time. You always were stubborn.” He joked and flirted with you, but then his face suddenly became somber. “Darling, do you know what Hell is? Do you? It isn’t a place where you sit on hot coals while devils torture you. It isn’t being cold or starving or afraid or dying from want of water. It isn’t watching death creep up a mountainside. It isn’t any of those things. It’s just being without you.”

In that moment, you wrapped your arms around each other as you cried together. A life of higher joys was a life with more tears of all kinds. It was said that after the storms, the sunshine returns. And crying was much the same in that moment. So you let it out, and Louis let it out too. In your shared catharsis, everything you kept locked away in your hearts for the sakes of others had finally been set free. You loved each other so much that you both wanted the same thing. You both sacrificed so much because happiness for the other was the only thing that you wanted in the whole world. That hug had woven your souls in a way that was a forever bond. You hoped that was Louis’ intention, because that bond was real. Words couldn’t describe how much you loved and sorely missed Louis’ hugs. There was the hug of gentle arms that still gave you the space to breathe. Then there was the hug of strong arms that told you everything that he was - body, brain, and soul - were all entrusted with you.

Even now, you love both. The duvets and the human shields, each has their time. His hug is stronger than anything you’ve ever known, as if holding you isn’t quite enough. Louis has to feel every ounce that you are press into every ounce that is him. In that moment of feeling each other so close you’re both awake somehow, more alive than you’ve been in so very long. As much as you yearned to break free in your youth, there are times now you are as a butterfly who yearns for the cocoon, to be safe within walls, protected. That's what you feel. It helps keep your nightmares away. So if it would be okay, if it's what Louis wants too, you want him to wrap his arms around you every chance the universe is kind enough to bring. For in this world, it’s your love that makes everything else possible.

“But I wrote you I was coming, from Berlin.”

“Did you? Well, I never received the letter.”

“Well, I guess the censors must have confiscated it. I wrote you what I thought about the Nazis.”

“The Nazis. Yes, of course. When did you arrive in Casablanca? Is anyone with you? Captain Freycinet?”

“Less than a year ago. And no, he’s still in England, working as a liaison officer. He’s in charge of a Free French garrison stationed somewhere out in the countryside. The exact location is a secret he won’t tell anyone, not even me. Most people try not to stare or ask how he lost his right eye, but for those that are brave enough to inquire about it, he likes to spin a fantastical story about how he lost it while flying a fighter plane in the First War as a pilote de chasse in Squad 26 of the Cigognes Group. Believable enough. Though he doesn’t fly anymore, he’s seen his fair share of action and knows how to handle firearms, bombs, and planes and things. He’s so knowledgeable on the subject that his stories never raise any further questions.” You took a breath. “You know, Louis… Contagions, infections, blood, wounds, amputations… They don't frighten me. But the Nazis do, so I thought maybe I'd better come here while I still had the chance. At least I can continue my work and still help people here. Did you get any of my letters? I wrote and wrote and wrote.”

“Yes, some. But they suddenly stopped coming in 1940. Then none. When the letters stopped, I feared the worst, my dear. That you fell out of love with me and found someone else, that you were married to him and had his children. Or that you died and were buried somewhere—”

You stopped his mouth with a kiss, not letting him speak any further. When his letters suddenly stopped, you were overwrought with the same fears and anxieties that he was. Had he fallen in love with another woman? Had he remarried? Was he dead? The not knowing was the worst. But now that you were together, nothing more needed to be said. Silence was the perfectest herald of joy. The next morning, duty called and you had to return to your work. Louis drove you, but he put the car in park and walked with you all the way back to the tents, not wanting to part from you just yet. You had been summoned but, just before you went inside, he stopped you for a moment.

“Wait a minute. Actually I’ve got something very important to ask you.”

“Important to me?”

“Enormously. Are you friendly with the matron?”

“I won’t be if she finds you here again.”

“Could you get leave tomorrow evening?”

“Oh, I don’t think I—”

“And dine with me?”

“I’m afraid I—”

“At Rick’s?”

“I can’t, I—”

“Could you try?”

“Now, possibly.”

“Could you try hard?”

“Possibly.”

“Very hard?”

“Possibly.”

“It’s all arranged, eight o’ clock—” Before he could speak any further, you smiled at him and shut the flaps of the tent in his face.

Louis picked you up from the hospital the next evening at eight o’clock sharp, just like he said he would. He drove you to Rick’s and, while you’d heard of it, you’d never been inside before. The lights were bright and there was a heavy scent of smoke wafting through the air that nearly made you cough. In the corner next to the stage sat a small salmon-colored piano on wheels. Louis told you that Sam, a middle-aged black man, usually played and sang on that piano while accompanied by a small orchestra. He told you that you might see him later tonight. On the floor, Corina strummed a guitar and began her number. She had a lovely voice. All about you there was the hum of voices, chatter and laughter. The occupants of the room were varied. There were Europeans in their dinner jackets, their women beautifully begowned and bejeweled. There were Moroccans in silk robes. Turks wearing fezzes. Levantines. Naval officers. Members of the Foreign Legion, distinguished by their kepis. When Louis told you that everybody came to Rick’s, you thought it was just an expression of speech, that he was exaggerating. He wasn’t. It was almost too much for you to handle. There was so much activity at the various tables, and it took you a while to find one that was empty.

“Apéritifs will be in, or would you prefer a cocktail?”

Louis suggested a bottle of Veuve Clicquot ‘26, a good French wine, according to him. But if you weren’t feeling like wine, he could ask the croupier, Emil, to bring a bottle of the best champagne and put it on his bill. You tried to insist on at least splitting the cost, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Louis explained to you that he usually liked to play a little game, where they put it on the bill and he tore the bill up. It was very convenient. But that night was a very special occasion, a celebration, so he wanted to spoil you and treat you to a romantic night out. You raised a toast to love and clinked your glasses together. It was funny how so many years had passed yet, once you were together again, it felt as if no time passed between you at all. While you wined and dined at Rick’s, you picked up right from where you left off and talked about anything and everything. You went on dates whenever your work schedules allowed. Rick’s became one of your usual haunts, along with some secret spots around the city. On one of your dates, you thought the evening was coming to a close. But then…

“Darling, there’s going to be some excitement here tonight. We are going to be making an arrest right here, in Rick’s Café.”

“What, again?” From what Louis told you, he and his administration making arrests in Rick’s place was a fairly common occurrence, at least common enough to seem like part of a mundane routine and somewhat annoy Rick.

“This is no ordinary arrest. A murderer, no less.”

Your eyes reacted. Involuntarily, they glanced around, as if trying to scope out which of the many, many, many customers it could’ve possibly been. Louis caught your look.

“If you are thinking of warning him, don’t put yourself out. He cannot possibly escape. You know, darling, we could have made this arrest earlier, in the evening at the Blue Parrot, but out of my high regard for Rick, we are staging it here. It will amuse his customers.”

“I think their entertainment is enough, dear.”

“Darling, I feel I should warn you that we are to have an important guest tonight. Major Strasser of the Third Reich, no less. We want him to be here when we make the arrest. A little demonstration of the efficiency of my administration.”

You didn’t bother to hide your distaste for the Nazis in front of Louis. It was pretty clear to you that, like you, he had no love for the Nazis and never went all that far out of his way to help them out. He agreed to do whatever would help maintain his cushy position and was fine with his normally extremely controversial behavior of opportunism, but only out of self-interest. He nonchalantly told you so himself that he had no conviction, he often blew with the wind and the prevailing wind happened to be from Vichy. You told Louis that you’d exchange pleasantries with Major Strasser in your native German tongue and outwardly act cordial to him to spare yourselves any embarrassment or trouble, but only if you absolutely had to. If he stopped by your table to talk to either you or Louis, or if it otherwise couldn’t be avoided, you’d smile and give him a warm welcome. You reflected wryly on your early life. You supposed you had Frederick to thank for your years of acting experience.

“I see. And what’s Strasser doing here? He certainly didn’t come all the way to Casablanca to witness a demonstration of your efficiency.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Louis, you’ve got something on your mind. Why don’t you spill it?”

“How observant you are. As a matter of fact, there is a man who’s arrived in Casablanca on his way to America. He will offer a fortune to anyone who will furnish him with an exit visa.”

“Yeah? What’s his name?”

“Victor Laszlo.”

“Victor Laszlo?”

Louis watched your expression. “Darling, that is the first time I have ever seen you so impressed.”

“Well, he’s succeeded in impressing half the world.”

“It is my duty to see that he doesn’t impress the other half. Darling, Laszlo must never reach America. He stays in Casablanca.”

“It’ll be interesting to see how he manages.”

“Manages what?”

“His escape.”

“Oh, but I just told you—”

“—Stop it. He escaped from a concentration camp and the Nazis have been chasing him all over Europe.”

“This is the end of the chase.”

“I’m willing to bet that it isn’t.”

“Is that a serious offer? Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. There is no exit visa for him.”

“Maybe. Well, it seems you are determined to keep Laszlo here.”

“I have my orders.”

“Oh, I see. Gestapo speak.”

“My dear, you underestimate the influence of the Gestapo. I don’t interfere with them, and they don’t interfere with me. In Casablanca I am master of my fate. I am captain of my—”

He stopped short as his aide, Lieutenant Casselle, entered.

“—Major Strasser is here, sir.”

“Yeah, you were saying?”

Having been summoned, he hurriedly excused himself and got up from the table during your dinner date. He kissed your hand, telling you he’d be right back, he was just going to flatter his Nazi superior a little for his own sake. He hurried away to kowtow to Major Strasser and you smiled cynically.

“Carl, see that Major Strasser gets a good table, one close to the ladies.”

“I have already given him the best, knowing he is German and would take it anyway.”

Louis walked over to one of his officers. “Take him quietly. Two guards at every door.”

“Yes, sir. Everything is ready, sir.” The officer saluted and went off to speak to the guards.

You watched Louis and the Nazis from the corner of your eye, not wanting to make it too obvious you were paying attention to them. You could describe Major Strasser as a tall, middle-aged, pale German with a smile that seemed more the result of a frozen face muscle than a cheerful disposition. On any occasion when Major Strasser was crossed, his expression probably hardened into iron.

Louis walked over to Strasser’s table. “Good evening, gentlemen.“

“Good evening, Captain.”

“Won’t you join us?”

Louis sat down. “Thank you. It is a pleasure to have you here, Major.”

Strasser turned to the waiter. “Champagne and a ton of caviar.”

“May I recommend Veuve Cliquot ‘26, a good French wine.”

“Thank you.”

“Very well, sir.”

“A very interesting club.”

“Especially so tonight, Major. In a few minutes you will see the arrest of the man who murdered your couriers.”

“I expect no less, Captain.”

The gendarmes followed Ugarte to the cashier window as he cashed in his chips. Two more guards stationed themselves at the door in case there was trouble. Ugarte started to walk out, followed by the gendarmes. When he reached the doorway he suddenly rushed through and slammed the door behind himself. By the time the gendarmes managed to get the door open again, Ugarte had pulled a gun. He fired four shots from the doorway in his attempt to evade arrest and run away from Rick’s Café Américain. The shots brought on pandemonium in the café. His desperate attempt at escape was futile. As Ugarte ran through the hallway, he grabbed Rick, begged him to stop them, to do something. But Rick stood impassively as the guards and gendarmes rushed in and grabbed him. They dragged him away.

Strasser witnessed the whole event. “Excellent, Captain.”

Rick came to the middle of the floor. An air of tense expectancy pervaded the room. A few customers were on the point of leaving. Rick spoke in a very calm voice. “I’m sorry there was a disturbance, folks, but it’s all over now. Everything’s all right. Just sit down and—”

Rick was cut off by the voices of customers overlapping each other in a discordant cacophony of panicked yelling, screaming, and unclear directions. Everyone turned to look at what was causing the commotion and Rick quickly made his way over. Louis was just about to sit down at the table with Major Strasser and Herr Heinz, but the sudden noise nearly startled him and made him knock his chair over. He was so far away that what the panicked customers were saying was unintelligible. He couldn’t make any of it out. He gave a rushed bow and left Major Strasser and Herr Heinz at their table. As he got closer, he could hear customers exclaim,

“Someone call a doctor!”

“Turn her on her left side!”

“She’s been shot by that madman!”

“I’ll call the ambulance!”

“Give me the napkins!”

“Put pressure on it! Stem the bleeding!”

Sam’s familiar voice stood out amongst the noise. “Keep her warm! Take my coat!”

“Will she be all right?”

“We must get her to hospital as quickly as we can.”

“Should I get some water?”

“No! No water! Just keep her steady until the ambulance arrives.”

Some customers were on their knees, hysterically crying. Others were praying. Louis approached the gathered crowd of bystanders and demanded they back up and give whoever it was lying on the floor room to breathe. They did just that and parted, clearing a path so he could see just who it was that was splayed out on the floor. He was horrified that it was you, pressing cream-colored cloth napkins to your side and lying in a small puddle of your blood. Louis nearly cried out when he saw you covered with blood. Your table was so close to the front doors that you were in range when Ugarte fired those four shots in his futile attempt at escape. Classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone around you except for Rick and Louis immediately went white and looked as if they were seeing a corpse or a ghost. Some of them looked to be on the verge of fainting and you wondered if Rick and his staff would have to rush the smelling salts. If you could’ve, you would’ve laughed. But laughing hurt like the devil. You were the one who was shot, but since you were a nurse with decades of experience, you were the most knowledgeable and least panicked person there. You were calm, you were still. You kept your breathing even and told Louis, Sam, and Rick exactly what to do until the ambulance arrived.

“We gotta stop the bleeding, Louis. Help Sam apply enough pressure.”

Sam’s jacket was wrapped around you like a blanket while he and Louis pressed the cloth napkins tightly against your wound. With their combined strength, it was enough to stop you from losing too much blood and going into shock.

“Is she gonna die?” A worried customer asked.

“Not today.” Captain Renault’s voice was firm. Final.

When the ambulance arrived and drove up to the incident site, Louis carefully picked you up and carried your moaning form to the ambulance with the help of Lieutenant Casselle. The paramedics opened the ambulance door and they placed you inside. Louis insisted on riding along with you and, together, you raced off towards the hospital. He held your hand and talked to you during the entire ride to the hospital while the paramedics worked to keep you stable. Louis knew next to nothing about this sort of stuff. Medicine and the human body was your field of expertise, not his. But you didn’t black out or lose consciousness for even a minute, so that had to be a good sign, right? The car careened to a halt and the paramedics carried you from the car until a gurney was wheeled outside to meet you. You were placed on the gurney and hustled into the hospital for emergency surgery. Rick followed closely behind in his car, and he and Louis both ran into the building while Sam followed, but an orderly stopped Sam at the door.

“I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait outside. No coloreds allowed.”

Sam watched Rick, Louis, and you vanish into the hospital. He walked around to a low wall and sat, his hands still covered with blood. A while later, Sam still waited. Rick and Louis exited the hospital and sat beside him. Louis sat a short distance away from them, his hands clasped together and his thumbs pressed against his forehead, just muttering to himself the entire time,

“Make it okay…make it okay. You can do whatever you want with me, but just make it okay, please. Oh, God, you will not take her. If you have taken her, you will give her back. Give her back... Give her back, please. Please.”

“Amen.” Sam said.

Casselle could take over for Renault and handle any work until further notice. He just had to make sure you would be okay, that you would live. He just got you back. You and he overcame every obstacle and wrench life threw at you through the skin of your teeth. You survived an entire World War together and were wading through the worst of the Second one. If he were to lose you right then and there to a stray bullet…after so many years of fighting tooth and nail for your love…No. He couldn’t bear to think such things. He had attended too many funerals in his lifetime already. He had only just recently made an impromptu trip across Europe to attend the most recent one. The memory of the services was still so fresh in his mind, so vivid. A bunch of men from Johnny’s regiment were gathered around, a soldier was playing “Taps.” Men in their army hats were standing at attention. He was praying over the grave. The epitaph, so lovingly engraved in the stone, read:

HERE LIES

JOHN “JOHNNY” RENAULT

1918-1942

SO LONG OLD PAL

When you were transferred to a hospital room to recuperate, he visited you every single day until you were deemed well enough to go home. Even though you slept most of the time and didn’t talk very much, he still kept you company. Following your discharge, he drove you to his apartment. He took it upon himself to look after you and tended to all of your needs while you convalesced at home. He did just what the nurses told him to and more. The nurses gave him written instructions and told him exactly what to do and showed him how to do it. He needed to periodically clean and re-bandage the wound to make sure it didn’t become infected. He had to be very careful not to disturb or reopen your stitches. He had to administer your prescribed pain relievers and other medications. He had to make sure you were getting plenty of fluids and only eating soft foods until you healed. Louis was a man of many skills and talents, but cooking wasn’t one of them. He was little more than helpless when it came to the arts of the kitchen. Rick didn’t usually give away free meals, not even to Louis. He would’ve received no benefit from doing so, as it would’ve been an egregious expense to compensate all that food. But considering the circumstances, Rick made an exception for you since it was an emergency. Maybe he felt guilty or partially at fault for Ugarte shooting you since it happened in his place, but whatever the case, Louis was so grateful to him. Thank God he had a friend like Rick Blaine.

When Louis brought you that first care package, he told you it was from Rick and on the house. As he helped you sit up so you could eat, you thought back to Ugarte’s arrest. Yes, Rick let Ugarte get dragged away by the authorities to his death, asserting that he “stuck his neck out for no one.” However, his face clearly showed a moment of sympathy for Ugarte before the tough veneer reasserted itself. He slipped up for only a second or two, but you saw it. Your ears were ringing a bit, but you could still hear. The line sounded more to you like it was part of a facade, something Rick said as more of an effort to convince himself of a lie he told himself and justify his seeming coldness. Like Louis, you didn’t believe that Rick was as heartless as he claimed. You suspected that, under that cynical shell, he was, at heart, a sentimentalist. Him being so willing to bag up food for Louis to bring to you, despite the profit losses he incurred from doing it, only cemented what you and Louis already knew to be true. Louis flirted with you and teased you, wanting to make you smile while you were laid up in bed most days.

“Do you remember, darling, how you had to take my clothes off in order to see the full area of my leg fracture? You told me, ‘I may even have to cut them with scissors.’ And I said, ‘Go ahead. They’ll need to be mended anyway, if they’re even salvageable.’ As you cut away at my pant leg, your soft hands brushed against my skin as you worked your way up from my ankle to my thigh. You got dangerously close to my—”

“I pulled the curtains surrounding your bed so you could have some privacy. My priorities as a nurse were to ensure my patients’ needs were met and that I was doing everything I could to keep them as comfortable as possible. Part of that meant making sure their dignity was kept intact.”

“I was a little loopy and acted so silly from the pain killers they had me on. Those drugs loosened my lips and I said so many naughty, dirty things to you. I wasn’t even fully aware of what I was saying! I couldn’t remember a thing about it, so I could only imagine it was the filthiest of fantasies! All I knew was that there was a beautiful woman inches away from me and I was tantalizingly titillated. But, whether or not I was lucid, I still tried to flirt with you and ask you out on dates.”

“I told you that I’d think about it. I told you to ask me again when you’d been discharged. I thought you’d just fall back asleep and forget everything, so it just seemed easier to play along for the time being.”

“But I didn’t forget. Once I was back on my feet, I cornered you in that supply closet and asked you about that date that you promised me. And then we got up to such mischief in there, didn’t we, darling?”

He planned to ask you to move in with him in a much more romantic manner. He really did. He wanted to take you out to dinner and then take you for a nice drive in his car. He’d park in his favorite spot on the outskirts of the city, away from all the neon lights and the noise. Alone together, your faces glowing in the moonlight, that was when he would’ve asked you not just to move in with him, but the big question. But when he saw you lying there, in a pool of your own blood… You were a nurse. A nurse who saved so many lives throughout your career. You were in the thick of wars, epidemics… You brushed hands with death every single day. It came with the territory. You knew that. And Louis knew that. He read about it in your letters. But knowing about something from reading about it and knowing about something from actually witnessing it were two very different experiences. Never before had he seen with his own eyes just how close you came to dying...until it happened. Time froze. The ten or so minutes in which it took the ambulance to arrive seemed to stretch on for hours and hours and hours as he became hyperaware of your own vulnerability. You were the strongest woman he knew, but you were still human. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, even you weren’t impervious to weapons. You could still bleed. And that which could bleed could die.

It wasn’t long after you recovered that you filed your civil marriage application. Usually it took at least two months for applications to go through and get approved, but neither you nor Louis wanted to wait a moment longer. He was able to pull some strings within his administration, and your wedding was held in the Palais de Justice on a Saturday afternoon. You didn’t need all the trimmings that usually came with a traditional wedding. You were married by a Justice of the Peace who was a bookmaker on the side. The judge wanted ten thousand francs for the marriage license. While Louis was a poor, corrupt official, he paid the price because he wanted more than anything to be married to you…and he knew he could win it all back at Rick’s after a few fixed games of roulette, so the monetary loss was only temporary. You held hands, a few words were said, you shared a kiss, signed a piece of paper, and…that was it. You were finally Mr. and Mrs. Renault, officially. You had your wedding breakfast at a coffeeshop. It was a cheap and imperfect affair, but that made it all the more genuine. It was the most romantic wedding you could’ve ever asked for because it was yours and Louis’ wedding. It was a perfect reflection of yourselves, rough around the edges and all. You didn’t have to get married in style to be happy. All you needed was him.

He didn’t have a ring to give you at the time of your wedding but, during a quiet evening at home sometime later, he took your hand in his. His other hand was clenched in a fist, as if he was holding something that he didn’t want you to see just yet. He kneeled down in front of you.

“It Isn't much, darling. I'll get you a better one... But I wanted you to have this for now.” He held his hand palm up and slowly uncurled his fingers, showing you his offering. It was a ring.

“Oh, Louis.”

“It's from one of my watch chains.”

“Oh, it's lovely.”

“I... I looked at the rings they were selling in the Arab market, but I, uh... I just couldn't find one I...”

“Oh, no, Louis. It's lovely. You made it. I'll treasure it always. You put it on my finger.” You held out your hand, and he slipped the ring onto its rightful place. “It fits,” you laughed, overcome with the joy only a new bride could feel. Louis sighed a breath of relief at that. He used his smallest finger to gauge the measurement since he didn’t know your size. He was worried that it’d be too big.

Even though he saved up the money to gift you another ring with an actual gemstone in it for one of your wedding anniversaries, you still wear that first ring he gave you on your finger right next to the sparkling gem. You’ll treasure it always.

While you weren’t the first woman Captain Renault slept with, he wanted you to be the last. Now that he had you in his arms again, no longer would his eyes wander to another. No longer would his body want or crave for another. Wrapped in each other’s embrace, you were like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. The emotional reunion was told in the soul connection of your eyes, in the sweet touch of your hands, in the strength of such a long anticipated hug. For in that moment was the sweet release, the relief, the chance for joy. Before you could draw in the air your body needed, you melted into his form. You could feel his firm torso and the heart that beat within. His hands were folded around your back, drawing you in closer. You could feel your body shake, crying for the missed time neither of you would ever make back, crying to release the tension of those many, long years. Louis pulled his head back and wiped away your stray tears with a calloused finger. Even his roughness brought more relief than your heart could hold.

He was eating you with his eyes, running his hand through your hair, as if he couldn’t quite believe you weren’t part of an almost forgotten dream. When he kissed you it was sweet, gentle, and it tasted of your tears. You wanted to speak but all you could manage was a croak, a plea for him not to go again. Never again. His mouth painted a soft smile and he nodded once before folding you in his arms again. His love for you was a kind of insanity. He deserved happiness so much. He’d been through such misery. You both had. But after many years of endurance and trials, you were, at last, free to be together. The emotion of your reunion sealed as a perfect photograph in your soul. You grabbed your camera and took a photograph of yourselves together in that apartment. An intimate snap of you lying underneath the covers of the bed and wrapped in each other’s arms, your hair messy, skin sweaty, but your eyes closed in contentment. In what may or may not come as a shock to your daughter, your wedding night wasn’t the first time you slept together.

“You may find the climate of Casablanca a trifle warm,” Louis had said to you. You believed yourselves to be well-adapted to the climate. But then there came a day that started out like any other, with a warm gentle breeze. Too warm, in fact. The sun shone brightly and relentlessly beat down on you. An unprecedented heatwave had hit Casablanca. You and Louis were in your shared apartment and desperately looking for a way to cool off. But, when you tried to leave, the door wouldn’t open. The heat caused the wood to expand and swell against the floor, meaning the door became stuck. It was so hard to open that it was nearly impossible. And your apartment was too high up, so escaping out the window wasn’t an option either. You were desperate for a reprieve from the heat, but not desperate enough to try to scale down the wall. Back in those days, there were no fire escapes installed outside. You were both left trapped along with the temperature gradually creeping up higher. You had plenty of water to last through the night, but soon you were both annoyed at your clothes. God, why were there so many layers? They felt too thick and stuffy, and were clinging to your sweaty skin. You weren’t married yet, but to hell with propriety! You both decided to strip down, but to make it fun and take your mind off your predicament, you played a game of strip poker. Louis was wearing one of his uniforms, but you were only wearing a romper. You were also bad at poker. Whoops! You shared a bath or shower together in the hopes that soaking in the water would help, and at some point in the night you both fell asleep.

The darkness felt like grasping claws, but also like a warm, enveloping hug. You were in a cold room, under a warm blanket, with a cold book next to you, and a warm friend laying on top of you. You suddenly woke up in a cold sweat, immediately snapped out of your blissful, dreamlike state. Louis was laying on his stomach, sprawled halfway on top of you with his arm laid over your chest. You were both naked. All the blankets and sheets had been kicked off the bed and discarded in a pile next to your discarded clothes on the floor. You could still feel your sweat dried on your skin. It was sticky and warm. How ironic that you wanted to cool off and instead partook in an activity that only guaranteed you’d both work up even more of a sweat. It looked like you’d need to take another bath or shower, and you knew that Louis would want to join you again. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

You could feel his breath on your face as he snored lightly. Oh, God. It wasn’t a fever dream. You really slept with Louis last night. You knew it wouldn’t just be a one time thing. But you were too hungry to think on it right then. When you threw on Louis’ shirt and got up to make breakfast, he made it difficult to get out of bed, doing his best to hold you in place while still half-asleep. He later woke up to the smell of food and stumbled into the kitchen wearing nothing but his high-waisted boxer shorts, complaining to you about the bed being cold without you there. Funny, the day before you both were complaining about the heat and, the very next day, you were missing each other’s warmth. Louis told you to leave it, breakfast could wait. He was hungry for something else. You just had time to turn off the stove before he swooped you up into his arms and carried you bridal style back to the bedroom. God, he was insatiable. But you couldn’t blame him. After a lifetime of waiting, you were just as insatiable as he was. Why should either of you have waited until you were legally wed to go to bed? You already loved each other as a married couple should. You wouldn’t deny each other what you wanted because of some arbitrary rule.

“Hello, darling! I didn’t hear you come in. Why, you look tired. Did you finish your errand?”

“Yes. Now come on, you’ve only just about time to dress.”

“Louis, would you mind very much if we didn’t go out tonight? If we just stayed here and talked?”

“But I reserved a corner table at Rick’s.”

“Could you cancel it?”

“No. I’m afraid not, darling.”

“Why? What’s happened? Louis, you look flushed, like you’ve been run ragged. And you sound winded. Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’m all right.”

“Darling, I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve just been thinking that, with our marriage and all, don’t you think a little celebration is in order? We’re still newlyweds, but we never did go on a honeymoon. You ought to get away—” your husband stammered and quickly corrected himself, “we both should, from this whole environment. Now, here’s what I’ve prescribed.” He pulled out documents from his pants pocket.

“Letters of transit.”

“The last plane to Lisbon already left, but there’s Brazzaville. I can provide a passage. It’s beautiful there this time of year. But we must hurry. Please, go get dressed, sweetheart. I’ll even pack the bags while you’re getting ready.” He got up from the couch with a reassuring pat on your arm and went into your bedroom to pack essentials for you.

“Pack? What— Louis, hold on.” You turned to follow him through your apartment. “What are you talking about?”

Louis walked over to your closet where you usually kept a suitcase and, thankfully, it was there. He grabbed it and made his way to your shared bedroom. “Darling, can you get your spare duffle bag for me? I'm afraid this one suitcase won't have enough space. I'm not sure how long we'll be gone for, but I imagine it’ll be at least until the war is over.”

“Wait, slow down a minute! You can't just come home and expect me to go away with you in ten minutes flat without an explanation! Louis, stop!” You were surprised when he actually stopped packing and looked at you. You could see the barely concealed fear in his eyes as they darted back and forth. He was running from something, something that scared him. “What’s really going on? Why are you so jittery and want to leave all of the sudden? What did you do?” You asked. You had time to ask questions, but there was no time for Louis to give you any answers.

He sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders. “We can talk about this later. You can be mad at me for as long as you need to be but, for now, I need to get you out of this city.”

“Why? Are there people after you? What's—”

“Please, my love. We don't have much time. We’ll eventually return home once the war is over and France has healed. We won’t be living like nomads forever. I just...” He closed his eyes and took a much needed breath, “I just need to know that you’re safe and away from harm. I have this horrible sinking feeling that something is going to happen. Something terrible and irreversible. And when it does, Casablanca won’t remain neutral for much longer. We won’t be safe if we remain here. We must leave while we still can.”

“You’re asking me to pack up my entire life and leave with you. And I will, but I need to make sure that I’ll— that we’ll have a life to come back to after the war is over. I had to rebuild my life from scratch once before. I don’t think I can do it again.” You argued with him and glared at him, but you felt your resolve weakening. You let out a short, exasperated sigh. “I'm going to need you to promise me you’ll give me an explanation. You at least owe me that.”

“Of course, my dear. I promise I’ll explain on the way, once we’re safely out of Casablanca. No details will be left out,” Louis conceded. “Now hurry and help me pack your things. We can only bring the essentials. Where are your car keys?”

Louis upheld his promise to you and filled in the blanks for you at a later time. Rick was in love with a woman named Ilsa Lund, but he could see quite well how she adored her husband, Victor Laszlo, wanted by the Nazis for escaping from a concentration camp. As Rick had the letters of transit, he was ultimately the only one who could make the decision. All of the above considered, he could abandon Victor, take Ilsa away, and everyone would get something they wanted, at the sacrifice of Victor's life and his fight against the Nazis. Louis thought that he was arresting Victor Laszlo with the cooperation of his American friend, but suddenly his smile faded. In Rick's hand was a gun, which he leveled at him and pointed straight at his heart.

“—Not so fast, Louis. Nobody’s going to be arrested. Not for a while yet.”

“Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“I have. Sit down over there.”

“Put that gun down.”

“Louis, I wouldn’t like to shoot you, but I will, if you take one more step.”

Louis halted for a moment and studied Rick. From the look in his eyes, Louis knew he wasn’t bluffing. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if he had to. So the saying was true then. People do crazy things when they’re in love.

“Under the circumstances, I will sit down.”

“Keep your hands on the table.”

“I suppose you know what you’re doing, but I wonder if you realize what this means?”

“I do. We’ve got plenty of time to discuss that later.”

“Call off your watchdogs you said. Rick, I can save considerable time, I think, by telling you immediately that I could never accept your proposition.”

“You haven't heard my proposition yet.”

“You have your letters of transit. Now you want your girl. Why else would you risk coming back? I cannot do it.”

“It's even better than that. An even trade, the letters for the girl. I’ll even let you keep your ten thousand francs.”

“You're really in love with her, aren't you?”

“After what she did? I got her into this, and I have to get her out. That's all. Anyway, stick to the point. Yes or no?”

“Hm. It appeals to me, yes. It would make a hero of me in the eyes of the Allied Forces. It would distress Strasser.” He smirked for a moment as he thought about it, but then his smirk fell as he thought about it some more. “No, Rick. I'm afraid I cannot buck the law. My superiors have very definite ideas on that matter and any violation of neutrality would reflect on me.”

“Look, let me buck the law. You stay charming. One thing at a time.”

“I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Just the same, you call the airport and let me hear you tell them.”

Renault picked up the phone. “That would be very amusing.”

“And remember this gun’s pointed right at your heart.”

“That is my least vulnerable spot.” He dialed and spoke into the receiver, “Hello, is this the airport? This is Captain Renault speaking. There’ll be two letters of transit for the Lisbon plane. There’s to be no trouble about them. Good.”

The entire airport was surrounded by a heavy fog. The outline of the transport plane was barely visible as it was being readied on the airfield. A uniformed orderly used a telephone near the hangar door, but he hung up and moved to a car that had just pulled up outside the hangar. Captain Renault got out while the orderly stood at attention. He was closely followed by Rick, whose right hand was nestled in the pocket of his trench coat, covering Renault with a gun. Laszlo and Ilsa emerged from the rear of the car. Following Renault’s order, the orderly escorted Laszlo off in the direction of the plane. Rick took the letters of transit out of his pocket and handed them to Louis, who turned and walked toward the hangar. He forced Louis to countersign the letters of transit.

“If you don't mind, you fill in the names. That will make it even more official.”

“You think of everything, don't you?”

When Laszlo returned, Rick walked into the hangar and Renault handed him the letters. He walked back out to Laszlo. On the airfield the airplane engine turned over and the propellers started turning. They all turned to see the plane readying for take-off. Rick watched as Ilsa and Laszlo walked very deliberately towards the plane and put a cigarette in his mouth.

“Anyway, thanks for helping me out.”

“I suppose you know this isn’t going to be pleasant for either of us.”

“We’ll cross that bridge as soon as the plane goes, Louis.”

The door to the plane was closed by an attendant and it slowly taxied down the field, its wheels rolling down the brightly lit tarmac, getting ready to blow Casablanca a goodbye kiss with a small and joyous bounce.

Suddenly a speeding car came to a stop outside the hangar. Major Strasser drove at break-neck speed towards the airport, honking his horn furiously. Somehow he intercepted the phone call that Captain Renault made to the airport and learned of their plans. He arrived just as the aircraft started down the runway, with Ilsa and Victor Laszlo on board. Strasser alit from the car and ran toward Renault. “What is the meaning of this?”

Renault nodded toward the field. “Victor Laszlo is on that plane.”

Strasser turned back to Renault with an incredulous stare. “Why do you stand there? Why don’t you stop him?”

“Ask Monsieur Rick. Personally, I decided to relax. You can see that our friend is somewhat overwrought.”

Strasser glared at him in such a way it would’ve sent a weaker man to an early grave.

Renault only shrugged. “Well, forgive my lack of courage, but there was a gun at my head. Speaking for myself, I have an enormous antipathy to dying.”

Strasser stopped in his tracks, looked at Rick, and saw that he was armed. He then made a step towards the telephone just inside the hangar door, though Rick told him not to even think about trying it and to get away from the phone. Strasser’s voice was as cold as steel as he warned Rick not to interfere. But Rick wasn’t afraid. He warned Strasser that he was willing to shoot Captain Renault, and he was willing to shoot him too. Strasser watched the plane in agony. His eyes darted towards the telephone, as if weighing his chances. He ran towards it and desperately grabbed the receiver to call for reinforcements. Rick warned him one final time and told him to put the phone down, but Strasser wouldn’t listen. Instead, with one hand holding the receiver and the other reaching for his own gun, he picked up the payphone and shot quickly at Rick. His shot was a little wild and the bullet missed its mark. Rick, in turn, shot him dead. Both he and Louis watched as he crumpled to the ground.

At the sound of an approaching car both men turned. A police car sped in and came to a stop near Captain Renault. When four more gendarmes hurriedly jumped out mere seconds after Strasser’s death, Rick thought he’d be arrested for murder then and there. Strasser's death was clearly caused by either him or Louis. The gendarmes ran to their Captain, the first one hurriedly saluting him. In the distance the plane turned onto the runway, getting close to being ready for takeoff. Louis figured that his law enforcement career was up in smoke and there was no point to turning Rick in. When it came time to make a stand, Louis’ conscience came through in the end and he effectively condemned himself to death to do the right thing. So he said,

“Major Strasser has been shot.” A beat passed, as Louis paused to look at Rick.

Rick returned Louis’ gaze with expressionless eyes.

“…Round up the usual suspects.”

“Oui, mon Capitaine.”

The Captain’s lie was obvious either way, and his subordinates could’ve turned them both in for a promotion - something that no doubt influenced their mutual decision to skip town. But Instead, the gendarmes saluted, carried Strasser’s body away, and drove off. Louis walked inside the hangar, picked up a bottle of Vichy water, and opened it. As he poured the water into a glass, he saw the Vichy label and quickly dropped the bottle into a trash basket which he then kicked over. He walked over and stood beside Rick. Before the plane left, Strasser was dead and Louis was sympathetic. The realization that he wasn’t truly master of his fate, at least as long as the Nazis had anything to say about it, might have been what motivated his sudden change of heart. There were quite a few close calls that were dodged by a hair throughout the whole ordeal. And even afterwards, there was quite a bit of tension up until the last minute about whether the plane would be allowed to leave Casablanca or not.

From the night came a sound as if thunder could be stretched. So Rick and Louis tilted their heads upward, seeking lights that flashed, the red and white in the deepest of black skies. For a moment they were still, feeling the cool air, breathing in a steady rhythm. Then there they were, those crazy passing stars, flying high, ever onward. They both watched the plane, maintaining their gaze until it disappeared into the clouds. Victor and Ilsa escaped together, and the couple could carry on the fight. They slowly walked away from the hangar toward the runway. They made plans to run off to join the Free French garrison in Brazzaville, but all Louis could think about was you.

In that moment, he was faced with a choice between abandoning you or charging back into what could very well have been hostile enemy territory, all to rescue you. The choice had already been made for him. He didn’t even have to think about it. He told Rick that, before they could walk off into the fog and an uncertain future together, there was something he had to do first. He had to go back home, for you. You were his love, his wife. Even before you were married and carried his name, you were just as much a part of his family as Johnny was. Before his son had ever been born, you had already proven through your unwavering love, loyalty, and commitment towards him that you were a Renault through and through. No matter what happened, no matter how long you were apart, no matter how bleak your situation seemed, you never once gave up on him or on your love. Even if it got him arrested or killed, he had to at least try to get you out. What kind of husband would he be if he didn’t? A selfish and monstrous one, just like Frederick Lannington.

Taking either Strasser’s car or the one that he and Rick arrived in wasn’t an option, as either one would’ve been recognized immediately and likely shot at on sight once the Germans saw the cooling corpse of one of their former superiors. They’d be able to put two and two together. Louis knew that going the entire journey on foot wouldn’t be easy and that he would have to be quick and quiet the entire time. But you were so much to him more than just his wife. You were his best friend, his better half, his partner in everything. You were someone who would either ride with him or die with him. And he loved you more than life itself. He couldn’t just leave you behind. He had an enormous antipathy to dying, yes, but he wasn’t that callous or cowardly. To anyone else but himself, the mission would’ve sounded suicidal. But he made it out of a suicidal mission, alive, once before, against all odds. People do crazy things when they’re in love. Louis told Rick to go ahead without him and that you would both meet him later if everything went according to plan and he was able to retrieve you and your car. But in case something went wrong and he didn’t make it to their meeting point within a certain timeframe, he asked Rick to proceed as if he was presumed dead and to take good care of you in his stead. If only one of you made it out of Casablanca alive, Louis wanted it to be you.

The fog came as softest white to embrace all, to make it a cocoon until the heat of the desert would return and the colors of nature would be ready to flutter once more. In the fog the city was blurred like an old painting. It could be a great work drawn by an expert hand. The buildings were silhouetted black, two-dimensional. The streets yawned in every direction with only the old newspaper dispensers and street-lamps to break the view between buildings so high that the tops disappeared in the swirling white. Going back for you reminded him of when he went back for John. He felt like a youngish man again, filled with adrenaline as he entered enemy territory. The flashbacks were so vivid, blurring the lines between the past and the present almost seamlessly as visions played out in front of him. His regiment’s occupation was entering its sixth week and the food supplies were running low. Tom was supposed to bring a sack of MREs he'd pilfered from the base camp. Hardly cordon bleu cooking, but it would have filled his stomach and those of his men. He couldn't smell anything through his gas mask. His comrades thought he was paranoid since he wore it 24/7 unless he needed to eat or drink and, even then, he did so quickly. People began to laugh at nothing at all, then become scared of nothing at all then, as the gas being pumped in became more dense, the air was tinged with green. Louis’ footsteps echoed like stones off a cave wall. He wanted to melt into the darkness but what was the point? That place had been abandoned long ago. He had the only beating heart in many square miles of concrete.

The air didn’t smell right at all. Louis swore he could feel his eyes stinging and becoming bleary. His throat felt like it was closing up as he coughed and tried to suck in some much needed breaths. What felt like gas permeating the air and suffocating him to death in fact smelled of nothing but just kicked up sand and tobacco smoke. Without the fumes of traffic its odor was fresh. The bright lights of the city flooded his vision with white and nearly rendered him blind, like the artillery shell blast. He felt like he was being watched even when he wasn’t. By the Germans? The Russians? He wasn’t sure. They were just shadows, echos of the past, and he couldn’t distinguish between them. Whenever he took cover underneath an awning, he felt like he was going to get crushed with falling debris from above if he didn’t hurry. He kept going. He had to keep going.

Once he got back to the barracks, everything would be okay. He and John would be safe. You would be safe. Just a little farther. He was almost there. Almost back at the barracks. Back at the base camp. Back to the home base. Home? Yes, that’s right. The camp was at home. Home was at camp. You were back at camp. You were at home. You were waiting for him. There were days the world came to full color from the night, from the grays under the moon to every color of the rainbow and more. That day, you and Louis had the fog, and so, as it warmed up, the world would be born from that whiteness, as if it were art appearing on a three dimensional canvas. Just up ahead he could see the warm yellow light still aglow across the porch. A beacon through the dense night fog. The ghosts showed him the way, guided him home. He risked it all by voluntarily going back into the fire after he just got out of the frying pan. But you asked him once if your love was worth it. He didn’t answer you then because he knew that it was. But seeing your face when he opened the door, he didn’t just know. He believed with his entire being that it was.

Some may call Renault’s survival and Stevenson’s death God’s will, but you and he see it a little bit differently. While neither of you can know for certain the real reason why Louis survived when John didn’t, you have your speculations. After the Second World War was over and France had healed, you and Louis left Africa and moved back home, back to the house where he put down new roots. Those roots grew into a tree, and that tree sprouted more branches after you brought your daughter home. By the time you reunited and married, Louis was in his sixties and you were in your fifties. You couldn’t get pregnant anymore, so you made the mutual decision to adopt an older child. It didn’t matter that you didn’t carry her in your womb or that she wasn’t of your blood. Adopting an older child came with its own unique set of challenges, but that didn’t make her any less wanted or loved. It was always difficult, but always beautiful. You were told that your recompense for mothering a late child was the comfort the child would be to you in your old age, especially if she was a girl.

And now here you are all these years later. You and Louis still have all of your letters wrapped up and tucked away safely somewhere secret, known only to the two of you. There’s hundreds of them. And sometimes, late at night, you take them out and admire them. When you’re alone in your shared bedroom, you reread them aloud and reminisce together. But as you grow older, it gets harder and harder to close the drawer. Someday neither of you will be here to read them. Your letters will be left behind to withstand the test of time. But neither of you need to worry because all of your precious belongings, including your mementos from both World Wars, will be passed onto your next of kin. You and Louis tell your daughter that, she’ll inherit your entire collection of letters, on two conditions. The first is that she does not read them until after your deaths. The second—”

Just as you and Louis are about to conclude your story, the sound of the doorbell radiates through the house, interrupting the moment and sending a jolt through all of you. The doorbell is a simple thing, yet all the best announcements are. The sound of the doorbell brings an inner leap of joy, and there’s a delicious moment where your daughter’s face washes blank with confusion, like her brain cogs can’t turn fast enough to take in the information from her wide eyes. Every muscle of her body just freezes before a grin creeps onto her face. It soon stretches from one side to the other, showing every single tooth. She runs through the house as if she’s a child again, despite your and Louis’ half-hearted attempts to tell her not to run indoors, all the way to the front door. When she opens it and sees just who it is, she doesn’t even let the man standing on the other side get a word in before she nearly tackles him in a bone-crushing hug. You and Louis stand behind your daughter, telling her to let the surprise guest breathe. Though his arrival is unannounced, you’re overjoyed at seeing him again in the flesh. It’s been so many years of letters, postcards, and long distance phone calls. But he’s here now.

“I’m happy to see you too, kiddo.” He ruffles your daughter’s hair.

“Are you here for a holiday? Oh, say you’ll stay!” She pleads, her eyes hopeful. But not too hopeful.

“That’s just the point. I can stay as long as you want me.”

“I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“Just this. That I’ve come back and I’d like to stay for good. If Mom and Dad will have me.”

“Of course we’ll have you, we’ll be delighted!”

“I echo every syllable.”

“Oh, Johnny, this is such wonderful news! Are you sure?”

“I’m really, really sure.”

Your son’s arrival brings you and Louis to your second condition: Your children must share their inheritance. When you wrote out your wills, neither you nor Louis wanted to favor one child over the other, nor deny either of them half of your love story by splitting up your letters, photographs, or other precious mementos between the two of them by adding restrictive stipulations. Nowhere did you state that you’d leave your possessions only to your daughter while Louis left his only to your son, or anything of the sort. You know your letters, your photographs, everything you hold dear will be in good hands and kept safe if left to both your son and your daughter. What they decide to do with it all will ultimately be up to them, of course, when the time comes, but neither you nor Louis want your children to fight over anything. They’re such good friends and love each other so much, you don’t think they would anyway.

Johnny and Louis shake hands. Louis doesn’t let go of his son’s hand and instead pulls him into a hug. Father and son pat each other on the back. He’s home. Seeing his son again in one piece, sans his left arm, reminds Louis of the day he attended the funeral. The memory of the services is still so fresh in his mind, so vivid. A bunch of men from Johnny’s regiment were gathered around, a soldier was playing “Taps.” Men in their army hats were standing at attention. Johnny, in his army hat, was standing at attention along with them, saluting with his right arm. The left one was missing above the elbow. His arm had been mauled. There was no saving it. The epitaph, so lovingly engraved in the stone, read:

HERE LIES

JOHN “JOHNNY” RENAULT’S ARM

1918-1943

SO LONG OLD PAL

Louis was praying over the grave then stopped. “Johnny, I can understand…having a funeral for an arm. I just don’t know why you insist on calling yourself ‘Stump’.”

“It’s what all my war buddies and everybody else is gonna be calling me, so we might as well be the first, Dad. I know they don’t mean anything mean-spirited by it. It’s just another nickname I’ve earned, and I’m proud of it. I may have lost an arm, but I saved another man’s life in exchange. If I had a do-over, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d do it again.”

Louis is drawn back into the present moment by your voice.

“So what happened?”

“It’s quite simple. I had to go all the way to America to figure something out. Well, that’s what I did.”

“Go on, what was it?”

“I learned that France is my home. And that you are my family. If I didn’t quite know that before the war ended, I know it now.”

Even before you and Louis got engaged, you were so in love with each other, you felt sick. You were sick with love. Literally. As if you’d gone mad, or been hypnotized, or something. For months. Years. All you could think about was each other. And then you were standing outside in the scorching desert, and you didn't have a hat or a sunshade. But you weren’t hot, because all you kept thinking was, he's going to propose. He's going to propose. It seems so odd to think about it now. It really does. But now you have your children, and someday they may have their own children, and so on.

Love is a disease. It can hurt, but it can also heal. It’s a disease that mutates, capable of spreading to those we care about and infecting almost everything and everyone it touches in many different ways. There are those who believe that they’ve built up an immunity and are convinced that they don't feel it. But it’s an impossible feat because, sooner or later, the world will show them that love is a part of the human existence in some way, shape, or form. Everyone needs to love and/or be loved just as much as they need air and water. And nobody can stop others from loving them either. Even if they were to be difficult over accepting such a gift, they would still feel it.

[cassandraclare]

The Whispering Room: James’ POV

Here it is finally — James’ POV of the Whispering Room scene from Chain of Gold. I wanted to wait until Chain of Iron was released to give more people a chance to read the book, and also because what we learn in COI does inform the scene. I hope you enjoy!

*art by Cassandra Jean

Cortana wove with her words, underlining each one with steel. She turned as her sword turned, and her body curved and moved like water or fire, like a river under an infinity of stars. It was beautiful—she was beautiful, but it was not a distant beauty. It was a beauty that lived and breathed and reached out with its hands to crush James’s chest and make him breathless. — Chain of Gold

James had felt a strange emotion when Daisy first took the stage at the Hell Ruelle. It was a mix of several feelings...

worry on her behalf, annoyance at Kellington, curiosity, and admiration for her bravery and poise. It was unfair of these Bohemians to force her to caper for them, and, he thought, a bit insulting to Shadowhunters in general. He supposed that Matthew had given them a rather unusual view of what the Nephilim were like in such circumstances.

And then she had begun to dance. And suddenly she was not Daisy, his old friend. She was Cordelia, whose name meant heart, whose every gesture was fire. Every earthly worry he’d had had been swept out of his mind. He was conscious only of Cordelia, whirling back and forth across the small stage. Cortana danced around her, shedding light like embers. The dull glow of the lamps illuminated her body, describing her every movement, her every curve as she danced. Her scarlet hair whipped around her in time to the music, and the golden light of the lamps in the Ruelle slipped across her skin, slow and hot, like beads of honey. The cadences of her voice, rising and falling, seemed to weave a cage of silken thread about her audience, and James was no exception.

Later, James would think it was odd that he had not compared her to Grace. Grace had never entered his mind at all. Cordelia danced, and by the end of her performance, James’s entire life had been disassembled and put back together in a new and different shape. He was conscious of Matthew, beside him, also staring as the crowd cheered, his sharp cheekbones flushed. He looked dazed; James couldn’t blame him.

Cordelia descended the stage and slipped through the crowd to come back to them, blushing at the looks and murmured comments she was drawing from the audience now. James could see the desire in the eyes that followed her. Everyone wanted her. He felt a dull fury. They had no right. They did not know Cordelia. She was more than just that dance.

When she reached them she let out a long breath of relief and smiled. She glowed with the exercise of dancing. Sweat beaded along her collarbones, shimmered between her breasts. Her eyes were bright as Cortana’s blade, strapped to her back.

“Bloody hell,” Matthew exclaimed.  “What was that?”

A look of uncertainty crossed Cordelia’s face. James said, “It was a fairy tale, Math,” and Matthew nodded. His dark green eyes searched Cordelia’s face, as if looking for the key to a locked room he had only just discovered.

Cordelia looked uncertain. James couldn’t bear that. She’d been magnificent; she should know it. But he couldn’t say that, of course. It would only make her self-conscious.

“Well done, Cordelia,” James said instead; when he unfolded his arms; his wrist hurt and he wondered if he’d been clenching his hands.

Cordelia. He hadn’t called her Daisy, and she looked a little surprised. It seemed inappropriate, somehow. Daisy was Lucie’s friend, the Merry Thieves’ compatriot; he found it a smaller name than she deserved. Cordelia, though—she had been a queen, hadn’t she? Queen Cordelia, daughter of Leir, ruler of Britain before the Romans had ever landed on those shores. Like Boadicea, a legendary warrior queen. A blazing white fire behind fathomless black eyes.

“Anna has disappeared with Hypatia,” James said, noting the empty settee, “so I would call your distraction a success.”

Cordelia’s lips twitched into a smile. “How long does a seduction usually last?”

“Depends if you do it properly,” Matthew said, with a wink. James felt it as a spark of relief, a bit of lightness amid the feeling that something heavy was sitting on his chest.

“Well, I hope for Hypatia’s sake Anna does it properly,” James said. He registered, with the reflexes of a parabatai, that Matthew had gone still next to him, and wondered what was wrong. “Yet for our sake, I hope she hurries it up.”

All hint of Matthew’s jocular tone from before was gone. “Both of you,” he said urgently. “Listen.”

Did he mean all the muttering about Shadowhunters? Was he only noticing it now? It had followed them since they came into the place. But when James followed Matthew’s gaze, he found Kellington staring with an expression of vexation, not at them but at the door. All questions were answered as through the door came Charles Fairchild, looking around him with a haughty expression. He looked like was about to raid the place; so much for whatever work Matthew and Anna had done for Downworlder-Shadowhunter relations here.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Charles,” he sighed. “By the Angel, what is he doing here?”

Charles was, James thought, probably looking for them. He was making his way through the crowd and gazing around him. Luckily for them, the crowd was not interested in letting him through, and he was moving very slowly.

“We should go,” James said. “But we can’t leave Anna.”

In one way, at least, Charles’s arrival was helpful; it threw a bucket of cold water on the roiling heat that had gripped James’s heart since Cordelia had begun her dance. Back to the matter at hand: a demon, a Pyxis, a plan.

“You two run and hide yourselves,” Matthew said, still keeping his eyes on his brother. “Charles will go off his head if he sees you here.”

“But what about you?” said Cordelia.

Matthew shrugged, but James could see the tension in his jaw and his shoulders. “He’s used to this kind of thing from me. I’ll deal with Charles.”

Not for the first time, James wished that his parabatai wasn’t in such a hurry to sacrifice his own reputation. He exchanged a long look with Matthew, but Matthew was sure, and determined, and his desire to rush into his own humiliation was an issue that would have to wait. Nodding, he turned and caught Cordelia’s hand with his own. “This way,” he said, and she nodded back in acknowledgement. As he pulled them into the crowd he heard Matthew’s voice calling, “Charles!” in a hearty tone of pleasant, if entirely false, welcome.

James didn’t know his way around the place, and the crowd made orientating himself even more difficult, but after some trial and error he and Cordelia managed to get behind Kellington and slip into a corridor leading away. This wasn’t safe in itself, since from the main chamber one would have a clear view down the entire corridor. In fact, they were temporarily more exposed than before, and James’s hope for the hallway to take a quick turn or to contain large statuary to hide behind was quickly dashed. He continued to hold onto Cordelia’s hand, not that he needed to; she seemed to know her way better than he did.

Partway down the corridor, James caught sight of an open door — its silver plaque labeling it the entrance to THE WHISPERING ROOM. Swiftly he drew Cordelia inside, out of sight. He slammed the door behind them, causing a loud noise, but he thought it couldn’t possibly be heard over the crowd in the main chamber. Only then did he release Cordelia’s hand and take stock of their surroundings.

The room was dimly lit, but not cold: a scented fire burned in the grate, filling the space with the smell of sandalwood and roses. It was a study, he guessed, based on the gigantic walnut desk against the wall and the bookshelves opposite, but it was too richly decorated to be solely a place for studious contemplation. Phoenix feathers and dragon scales danced across the gilded wallpaper; there were no windows, but the walls were hung with patterned tapestries, the floor covered with a rug so thick James felt his boots sink into it as he moved further into the room.

Cordelia had leaned her back against the wall next to the door. Her eyes were closed and she was taking deep, full breaths, calming herself down. Cortana gleamed gold over her shoulder; the firelight gleamed a deeper gold on her skin, which seemed to take and hold its warmth. James curled his fingers in against his palm.

He wanted to touch her. He half-turned away, pretending to study the books on the wall. Any other time, he would have been fascinated by the titles. Now they seemed distant, neither immediate nor imporant. He could have sworn he heard his own heart hammering. He said, “Where did you learn to dance like that?” surprising himself with the roughness of his own voice.

His gaze snapped back to Cordelia as she opened her eyes and gave a little shrug. There was something magical about the dress she wore: it followed the shape of her own body rather than the shape of corsetry or whalebone petticoats. It slid softly against her skin as she moved, just as her dark red hair tickled the bare skin of her throat, her shoulders. “I had a dance instructor in Paris. My mother believed that learning to dance aided in learning grace in battle.”

The word grace pierced James like an icicle. He could not quite picture Grace at the moment, it was true; could not quite envision her face. He had given Grace his heart — that was an immutable fact, something he knew as he knew that two plus two equaled four. But he had to admit that at the moment his heart did not feel given. It felt like a thrumming machine inside his chest, pumping blood and heat.

“That dance,” Cordelia added with a quirk of her soft mouth that struck James like a blow to the stomach, “was forbidden to be taught to unmarried ladies. But my dance instructor did not care.”

“Well,” James said, keeping his voice steady with practiced control, “thank the Angel you were there. Matthew and I could certainly not have pulled off that dance on our own.”

Cordelia turned away from him, the smile still on her face, as though she were keeping it secret from him. She trailed her hand along the top of Hypatia’s desk. At one end was a stack of papers held down by a large copper bowl of fruit, and she brought her hand up to trace its rim.

James may have been distracted beyond the capacity for distraction he’d known before, but he was still a Shadowhunter. “Be careful,” he said warningly. “I suspect that is faerie fruit. It has no effect on warlocks—no magical effect, at least. But on humans…”

Cordelia pulled her hand back as though stung. “Surely it does not harm you if you do not eat it.”

“Oh, it does not. But I have met those who have tasted it. The say the more you have of it, the more you want, and the more you ache when you can…have no more.”

Cordelia was looking at him now, and though it took a great summoning of courage, he returned her gaze. In her dark eyes the silver and blue flames of the fireplace danced. James could not catch his breath. He had never felt this before, this breathlessness. It was like pain, but with a sweet, sharp edge. Like licking honey from a knife. He said, in a low voice, “And yet. I have always thought…is not knowing what it tastes like just another form of torture? The torture of wondering?”

The door shook on his hinges suddenly, making a clatter that made both he and Cordelia jerk their heads around to look at it. The knob was starting to turn.

Cordelia paled. “We’re not meant to be in here —“

James’s world closed down to just this: Cordelia was here, she was with him, and she looked frightened. He would do anything to stop that look on her face. He caught her in his arms, and the relief was incredible — he had not realized how much he wanted to be touching her until he was. Until he was holding her, and her strength and warmth and softness were all pressed against him, and her face was so beautiful it hurt, and her lips were parted in surprise and without another thought he kissed them.

He could feel her sharp intake of breath with his hands, clasped together at her lower back. She gasped, but did not draw back, or away — he thought he would have died if she had — she leaned into him, her full lips opening under his. She was kissing him back. He tasted honey, smelled jasmine and smoke. His hand slid up her warm cheek and into the soft fall of her hair.

Time stopped.

Cordelia’s arms were around his neck. Her lush mouth opened a little against his, and the kiss deepened. He moved his hand to the back of her neck to bring her closer. Her teeth grazed his lower lip, and he couldn’t help it; he moaned, and felt her tremble against him.

Very far away, a voice chuckled and the door closed with a soft click. This whole thing had been intended as a ruse, he knew, for the benefit of whomever was trying to get into the Whispering Room. Probably some Ruelle attendees, Downworlders most likely, who had snuck off for a rendez-vous.

Ruse accomplished, then. With intense regret, James drew back from Cordelia. Her hand, warm and soft and wonderful, was against his neck; her fingers stroked his pale white scar. Her eyes were fixed at the level of his shoulder. He could hear himself say her name — Daisy, my Daisy — instead of responding, she whispered, “I think more people are coming.”

He knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t care. He knew what she was saying: that she was asking and giving permission at once. All James’ life, he had struggled for control: control over his sudden falls into shadow, control over the dark world he could see, that was invisible to everyone else. He had worked and fought and trained for control every day, and for the first time in as long as he could remember it deserted him.

The walls he had put up burned to the ground in an instant as he caught Cordelia to him. He groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping over the silk of her dress, the hot satin of her skin. He undid the strap that held Cortana, got rid of it somehow — carefully, he hoped — and let himself fall back into delirium.

He did not ask himself why he had never felt desire like this before. He could not. He was lost in the feel of her, the incline of her waist, the flare of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped. They were kissing wildly, uncontrolled; they fetched up against the desk, Cordelia’s back to it.

Her body bent backward in an impossible arch, her hands going behind her to brace herself. Her eyes half-closed, her head fell back, revealing the bare column of her throat. He pressed his lips there, eliciting a gasp of surprised pleasure.

His hands trailed up the sleek material of her dress — he could feel the heat of her skin through it — from her waist to the neckline of her gown. His palms followed her curves until the tips of his fingers were pressing into the bare bronze skin just above the neckline of her dress. She was sleek and soft and hot all at the same time, like nothing else he’d ever touched. He heard her whimper; she was saying his name, and his heart beat in time with her words: James, James, Jamie please.

The please undid him; shrugging off his frock coat, he caught hold of her around the waist, lifting her until she was perched on the edge of the desk. The material of her dress bunched around her knees, her thighs, as she took hold of his shirt by the starched front and kissed him. His mouth drove against hers, hot and demanding, even as he clambered onto the desk after her. She reached up her arms for him and he sank down on top of her, bracing his weight with a hand above her head.

He paused, just for a moment, looking down at her. Her scarlet hair fanned out across the desk, her eyes glazed, her full lips red from kissing. He was cradled by her body, her legs on either side of his hips, her skirt rucked up nearly to her waist. She wrapped her long, bare legs around him and he shuddered. What was in him, what he wanted, was inchoate but insistant, a force he’d never known. A yearning like hot wires in his blood, the pain-pleasurable ache of unbearable wanting that drove him to kiss her again, kiss her harder. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling at it as he kissed her breasts, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin until she gave a low scream and clutched at him with desperate hands.

He sank down against her and kissed her, hot and deep and hard. She arched into the kiss, her breath coming in gasps. He felt her through the thinner material of his shirt: the heat of her, the swell of her breasts against his chest, her hands smoothing over his chest, his sides.

His hands aching to touch her in kind, to find out what she liked, what made her gasp, and do it again and again . . . Nothing had ever felt like this, nothing. He’d known desire before; so he remembered, so he had believed. It turned out he had stepped into a puddle and thought it was the sea. As Cordelia moved in his arms, as her lips, he realized there was a depth to desire he hadn’t even guessed at: that it was more than just desperation, but joy and need and wanting and being wanted back. It was a fever dream, his hands sliding up under the heavy satin of her skirts, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the soft sounds of her pleasure as she urged him closer, urged him onward, the desk seeming to spin beneath them.

He heard, as if at a great distance, the sound of the door opening. He lifted his head, saw the slim fair-hared figure in the doorway. Ice washed through his veins. Cordelia stiffened, began to scramble to sit up. No, he thought, but he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t blame her. It — whatever it had been — was over.

He slid off the desk. Already the fever was vanishing, that feeling —the glorious freedom from the burden of his own will — receding. Grasping at his control, he drew it around himself,  reaching for his coat, turning to calmly meet the gaze of his parabatai.

“James?” Matthew said.

[seijorhi]

hello, i love your writing and was hoping if u could write a yandere kuroo x reader where he corners her in a corner and kenma is there and is getting off from it 😳 thank u !

Asdfghjkl this was supposed to be posted on Sunday I’m sorry, bby!! I hope it’s worth the wait! 💕 also, loved this request so thanks for sending it in 😊

Kuroo Tetsuro x Female Reader, Kenma Kozume x Female Reader

TW dub con, coercion (kinda?), stalking, humiliation

Helping Hand

There’s a certain peace you find in the looming stacks of the library after the sun sets. It’s quieter then, less people milling about. You don’t have to fight for space or books, and considering you have midterms soon and essays coming out of your ears, that makes it the perfect study environment.

It’s only a little after eight, the library’s still open for another two and a half hours, but on the fourth floor it’s almost a ghost town - just how you like it. There’s a professor tucked away in the back corner, piles of books built up around him, an older librarian with her trolley, slowly re-shelving books, and two other guys around your age sitting huddled at a table a few down from yours - the textbooks and highlights spread across their desk having been long since abandoned in favour of literally anything else.

Honestly, you’d wonder why they’d bother coming to the library at all if it wasn’t an almost daily occurrence. Most days you were there, so were they - usually together, although it wasn’t uncommon to see just one of them camped out between the stacks as you made your way to your desk. The duo, one tall and lean with a shock of messy dark hair that always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and the other smaller, more reserved, with bleached hair and dark roots in serious need of a touch up, seemed to prefer this time to study too - not that they ever seemed to actually do all that much studying.

Usually the blonde ends up absorbed in his switch while the other casually thumbs through whichever book is closest.

So long as they were quiet and didn’t disturb you, who were you to judge?

You don’t really remember when they’d started to appear, only that they’d quickly become a fixture in your refuge - distantly familiar presences like strangers travelling on the same bus to work each day. They smile (well, the dark haired one does) and nod whenever you happen to look up from your notes and catch their eye, and while you’ve only spoken a handful of words to the both of them, they always seemed nice. 

Nicer than the clearly overworked professor muttering away in the corner at any rate, which makes them the logical choice to approach when you find your bladder uncomfortably full halfway through your self imposed study session. Realistically, you know at this time of the night nobody else is likely to make their way up to the fourth floor, much less have any interest in your shitty, old laptop or the five whole dollars in your wallet - yet you find you making your way over to the twosome’s table anyway, a faint blush dusting across your cheeks.

“… don’t want to,” you overhear the blonde mutter, his attention wholly focused upon the game in his hands. “Things are fine, why change that?”

His friend sighs, “Because you can deny it all you want, but I know you better than that. I know I’m not the only one who wants more. You can’t just sit back and…” he trails off suddenly, hazel eyes flickering over to you in surprise. 

Confused by his friend’s sudden silence, the blonde lowers his game and glances up - only to still at the sight of you.

You swallow down your nerves, plastering what you hope is a friendly enough smile across your face, “Hi, uh… sorry to interrupt you guys, but would you mind watching my stuff for a few minutes while I go to the bathroom? I won’t be long or anything, I just don’t like leaving my stuff out in the open,” you say with a sheepish laugh, well aware that you’re rambling like an idiot. 

It’s the dark haired one who answers, a wide grin breaking across his face as he nods, “Yeah, no worries. We’d be glad to.”

You smile back, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach (he does look kind of cute grinning like that), thanking him again before rushing away in the direction of the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for your thoughts to drift away from the duo back to the essay you’re mid-way through drafting. You have a sinking feeling that the argument you’re trying to use in the fourth paragraph is essentially a just rehash of the point you made in the first. By the time you unlock the stall door and make your way over to the sink to wash your hands, you’re starting to debate the merits of scrapping the whole thing and starting fresh with new ideas.

You still technically have time, it’s not due until the end of the month, but you just kind of want it done so you don’t have to think about it anymore. Then again, that’s kind of your feelings towards the semester as a whole. 

Who are you kidding? University’s kicking your ass this year.

The ancient hand dryer’s almost deafening as it clicks on - it masks the sound door swinging open and the footsteps that echo out from the tile floors.

It’s only when your eyes flicker up to mirror that you see that you’re no longer alone-

Standing right behind you is the guy from before; the tall, dark haired one. 

- and jerk in surprise, stumbling backwards with a choked yelp.

It doesn’t hit you right away - no, that’s relief that has you drawing a hand over your chest and letting out a shaking laugh. “You scared the hell out of me!” you say, bracing yourself over the sink to try and calm your breathing.

No, it doesn’t hit you quickly. Realisation is slow - creeping through your veins like ice as your eyes flicker back up the mirror. 

He hasn’t moved. 

He’s smiling, grinning really, but there’s something… something off about it. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes… Why isn’t he saying anything?

W-why isn’t he moving away?

Your heart, still hammering from his shock of his sudden appearance, squeezes uncomfortably and your eyes slowly widen.

“Wh-”

A rough, calloused palm slaps across your mouth, smothering whatever words you’d been about to speak. “Ah, ah. Gotta keep it down, sweetheart.”

He winks at you in the mirror, taking a tiny step towards you and you squeak, breathing in sharp, shallow pants through your nose as a warm, muscled chest presses against your back. “You’re a nervous little thing, aren’tcha?” he chuckles. “Relax a little - promise I don’t bite.”

With one hand wrapped around your lips the other creeping across your waist, his words don’t exactly bring you a lot of comfort. 

It makes no difference either way - you’re paralysed, shaking and trembling, but utterly unable to move as he noses at the column of your throat, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You could scream, but there’s no guarantee anybody would hear you. You could try and fight him off, but he’s taller than you, and you’re willing to bet stronger as well.

Will he hurt you if you try and resist?

Is he gonna hurt you anyway?

You’ve heard the stories before about men who follow women into empty bathrooms and the awful things they do, but you never...

Those things don’t happen in places like this. The library is supposed to be safe, he- he’s been-

Your stomach drops.

Weeks. 

He’s been visiting the library with his friend, sitting across from you for weeks.

His eyes bore into your reflection in the mirror like he can hear every terrified thought that passes through your head, and with excruciating slowness you’re forced to watch as his lips brush a kiss against your cheek, lingering and sweet - a mockery of tenderness. 

A scared little whimper is all you can manage, and even that is swallowed up by the sound of the bathroom door squeaking open once more. 

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening.

A faint burst of hope flickers to life.

You might not be a fighter, but this might be the only chance you have. You shriek again, the sound woefully muffled, and writhe against your captor’s tightening grip as slow footsteps round the corner.

Please, you think as tears stream silently down your face. Please help me.

What little hope you have is quickly - brutally - extinguished as your would be saviour steps into view.

Your legs shake and you’re almost positive that if it wasn’t for the strong arms wrapped around you, you would have crumpled to the floor.

It’s his friend, the blonde, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, watching the scene before him - you struggling against an iron grip, gagged and terrified - like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. 

Your captor chuckles, relaxing his grip as his hand drifts upwards to palm at your breast and you want to die. “Glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

“Shut up, Kuroo,” the blonde groans as he makes his way over, but he barely glances at his friend before his catlike eyes come to rest on you.

Your cheeks are burning, a potent mix of shame, nausea and dread churning in your stomach as you’re crudely felt up, but under the blonde’s attention you freeze.

While his face is a blank mask of apathetic disinterest, those golden irises are piercing in their intensity as they study you.

The glint in his eyes is as unmistakable as it is stark; anticipation - like a house cat watching a golden canary flit restlessly in its cage.

The hiccuping sob comes unbidden, choking at your throat as you wail against the palm at your lips. You’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your entire life, to slap yourself awake and realise that it’s nothing but a stress induced nightmare because this can’t be happening.

Why you?

What could you possibly have done to deserve this?

“Relax,” Kuroo repeats, leaning down over you again, “we’re not gonna hurt you. Just wanna have some fun, that’s all.” You think he’s going to try and kiss you again, but instead his tongue darts out and he licks at the silvery tear tracks, groaning softly.

You shoot the quiet blonde a desperate, pleading look. He hasn’t lifted a finger to stop what’s happening, hasn’t done anything other than stare at you, but even as his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile you hold out on the shadow of a prayer that maybe, just maybe-

Kuroo follows your wide, panicked gaze and almost snorts. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, baby. Kenma’s not gonna help you. He wants this just as badly as I do.” His thumb slides across your cheek, brushing away more tears, “C’mon, on your knees.”

He doesn’t give you a choice - the hand on your shoulder forces your shaking knees to buckle and you fall down to the bathroom floor.

The tiles are cold against your bare legs, but the shivers that wrack through you have little to do with the temperature. It’s far too late to regret the short skirt you’d thrown on that morning.

Kuroo hums appreciatively, lifting his palm to tap it a few times against your cheek like you’re an adorable little puppy who’s just learned its first trick, “It’s a good look for you, baby, but I think it’d be even better without this-” his fingers tug at the collar of your top and his grin widens, “- in the way.” 

Yet he makes no move to take it off for you. One look into his eyes, the glittering amusement darkened with lewd desire and you know that he won’t.

He wants you to do it, to play along in their fun - to be an active participant in your own humiliation.

And really, what other choice do you have?

It’s impossible to ignore the bulge straining against his jeans as your trembling fingers grip the hem of your top and reluctantly yank it upwards. There’s a sharp inhale - Kuroo you think - and a whistle as it comes off, baring your lacy bra and the soft skin underneath to their hungry gazes. 

Only for a moment. 

Staring resolutely at the floor you’re quick to try and cover what little modesty you have left, bringing your arms up to wrap around your chest-

Except a hand catches at your wrist and tugs it back, and when you glance up you find it’s Kenma’s. 

“… Don’t,” he murmurs. “I want to see you.”

You let your arms drop, hands clenching into shaking fists in your lap, fingernails biting into your palm.

The sound of a zipper being pulled undone is almost deafening in the quiet bathroom. Fresh tears sting at your eyes, but you can’t bear to look at either of them as Kuroo reaches inside his pants and frees his cock.

The hand that cups your cheek is surprisingly gentle as he coaxes your face back towards him and the achingly hard member in his grip. “See Kenma, I told you - change ain’t always a bad thing.”

His dark eyes flicker back to you and he grins, “Open up, sweetheart.”

[bowieandqueen11]

Luke Crain Headcanons

Request: Hi🥺I’m usually not to good about making request but I’m trying to breakout of my shell on that cause you are an amazing writer and I love everything you write!! But can I request a Luke Crain headcanon where you guys grew up together but distanced while he was in rehab but you came back together after what happened with Nellie! Thank you so much you’re an angel🥺💛 

Thank you SO much @cathrinexxxv​ I LOVE LUKE CRAIN! Also I’m so ready to binge watch all of Bly Manor tomorrow!! <3

You and Luke first met when you were very young. As in, really really little. To this day, you’re still constantly teasing him and making him blush smile about his huge magnifying pair of glasses and his obsession with bowler hats.

You and your family used to live in the small village which was a fifteen minute walk away from the looming heights of Hill House, so when a rumour started spreading down the houses that a new family full of children were moving in for the summer, you, naturally, were intrigued.

One night, when you had heard from your mother that the new family had moved in, you sneaked out your back garden on a warm afternoon before dinner, cutting through the dark and dingy forest until you reached the outskirts of the property. Seeing a boy around your own age sitting on his own on the burnt grass, you waved to Luke from behind the branch of a nearby, crooked oak tree. He was startled, to say the least, but as he watched you hide slightly behind the bark, he was surprised to find he wasn’t scared in the slightest.

He felt as if he almost knew you already. As if this was always meant to happen, that you were meant to find each other here.

Nudging his glasses back up the bridge of the nose, he shyly waved back. Once he finally realised that you weren’t going to budge from your hiding place, nervous from the stories your neighbours had told you about this house, he decided to pick up his crayons in one fist and his paper in the other, before he sets off half stumbling, half stomping along the uneven ground towards you.

When he finally reaches the trunk, he stops and looks at you kind of funnily, tilting his head slightly before he decides the right reaction was to smile at you.

‘My name is Luke Crain. Do you want to play with me? All my siblings ignore me and they don’t want to draw with me.’

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon huddled under the shaking leaves, sitting on the roots of the tree, Luke tracing out a picture and you giggling as you tried to bump his hand out of the way to colour it in.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Nellie loved you of course, and saw you as her honorary best friend as well, as did the rest of the siblings (even though Shirley would never admit it, and Theo was too stubborn to), which meant constant sleepovers at Hill House.

Hugh would always chuckle and shake his head when he peeked into Luke and Nellie’s room, seeing Nell asleep on a red bean bag with a half open bag of sweets lying deserted by her feet, and you and Luke sprawled out on the mat by the iron railings of his bed, snoring. 

You were also the only one he allowed up into his treehouse. Although, sometimes he was too embarrassed to let you, or his siblings, in, because he had stuck pictures up on the wall of the drawings he had tried to do of you.

Growing up with Luke also meant having to calm him down after he starts seeing the tall, floating ghost. Sometimes you would try to climb up the ivy outside of his bedroom window, only to topple into the house headfirst when you start to hear Luke’s high pitched screaming coming from under his bed. Although Olivia would come running in, she would always end up comforting sobbing Nellie, as Luke would only grab onto you, the two of you sitting on the edge of his bed as you remind him the rule.

‘Breathe in and out Luke, that’s it. In and out, seven times - that’s what keeps you safe.’

‘Eight’, he would say with a trembling breath. ‘Eight times. You’re my family too.’

The two of you were gutted when Luke had to move away, but your parents could already see how close the two of you were, and so decided that a move away and a new school for you, perhaps, wasn’t the worst idea. Especially, they decided, since you had been there that night as well.

Although the two of you were close for the whole of your childhood, it takes Luke until he’s eighteen years old to realise just how long he’s really been in love with you. It takes some nudging on from Nellie, pointing out how you would run up to his locker during breaks between classes and just fill him in on how your day was going - each break, no matter how long it had been, without fail. Luke was the only person you wanted to talk to, and from the look of pure delight on Luke’s face as he leans against his locker door and gives his full, undivided attention to you, you’re the only person he wants to listen to.

Or how, Nellie would continue, you would come round to their house for dinner, and although Aunt Janet tried to separate the two of you by sitting you opposite each other, you would just spend the whole dinner ignoring whatever Theo was talking about and giving each other funny looks as you kicked each other in the shin.

Or, when the two of you got a bit older, and you would sneak out of your dorm to visit him in the middle of the night, throwing little rocks at his window until his curtains would rustle and the window latch would be thrown open, his grinning face peering down at you. Despite having spent the whole weekend together, reading to each other in the town’s local library, or just lying shoulder to shoulder watching movies, the two of you would sit out in his garden, on the dewy grass, constantly craving each other’s company. You made him blush one night, when you suddenly grabbed his hand and intertwined his growing fingers over your smaller ones, pointing up at the moon, and the glowing stars, not realising the little side eye, euphoric look he would give you. 

That’s when he finally realised how immensely, and terrifyingly in love with you he was.

It scared him, to realise this, but deep down he knew it had always been you.

He has so many nightmares though. So many nights are spent with his head lying heavy in your lap, as you brush through his golden hair, trying to shush him and calm him down, or rocking him as he cries into your shoulder because of the nightmares he has about his mother, or about Abigail.

As the two of you start to escape your teenage years, and the wishful chasing after each other that came with it, your relationship becomes slightly more strained when he starts using. You choose to move in with Nellie for a while, once he finally goes to rehab. When she gets married, and you're forced to find somewhere new to live, you think you'll never hear from the Crains again - you get the odd visit from Nell, or Theo, but they're so busy enjoying the newly wed life, or studying for their degree that it's not enough - nothing fills the hole that comes from missing Luke. 

It hurts that he never comes to see you, but little did you know that he used to sit at his little beige desk every night, underneath the barred window, just staring up at the moon as he bit on the edge of his pen, a feeling of such wistfulness and loneliness and longing weighing down his chest.

He used to write you a letter, every day, just pouring out all the feelings he was too afraid to tell you, but he always crumples them up and throws them away, too scared to send them.

When Steve phones you up to tell you the news about Nellie’s passing, you told him to immediately come and pick you up.

You're terrified when you open the door and walk out into the bone chilling night to hug him, your heart thumping in your chest when he tells you about how Luke has left rehab again and is somewhere out on the streets, probably using. It breaks your heart, but you know you have to be the one to find him, to bring him back.

When you reach him, and see the man you've loved since you were a child wandering, shoeless and shivering along the freezing, cracked pavement, muttering to himself, you can’t help a tear slip out as you unbuckle your seatbelt and hop out of Steve’s rental.

Luke is so terrified, he doesnt recognise you for a second. It’s only a second, though, before his eyes widen and he pounces on you, wrapping you into him so familiarly, his frame looming large above you but yet feels so fragile in your grasp as he buries his head into the side of your neck and starts crying.

‘I’m so, so cold, Y/n, and my arms are s-s-so stiff, and I’m s-so sorry, I’m so sorry-’

You can’t bear to tell him the news, so you just hold the nape of his neck and pull him tight against your chest, hating the way his whole body shakes in your hold.

On the day of Nell’s funeral, he doesn't leave your side once - it’s as if the two of you had never been separated at all. As everyone files in through the main door, ignoring the sour face on Shirley as they wander into the reception area, you and Luke just sit knee to knee on the couch opposite the entryway.

‘I tried to write to you,’ he starts, as he fumbles a cigarette from out of his breast pocket and tucks it away behind his ear, trying to busy himself with anything so he doesn’t have to meet your confused eyes, and so you don’t have to see the guilt ridden in his. ‘I want you to know that. Nellie kept on telling me off, but i just didn't know how to say what i needed to say to you.’

‘Luke, its okay, i understand how difficult it was for you-’

‘No-no, Y/n, no more excuses! You mean so much to me and i- i cant... i can't lose anyone else. Just-’

He's so gentle when he finally reaches over and kisses you, trying to shake off his fear and just show you what he meant instead. His suit rumples against your chest as he smooshes himself against you, cupping your cheeks softly with his large hands as he tilts you to the side to meet him in a needy, a desperate, a long anticipated kiss. 

He doesn’t pull away - he can't - until you finally break for air, and only then does he finally concede and places his forehead against yours with a soft thud, just closing his eyes in both agony and bliss.

‘I’m sorry that took me so long to do.’

‘It was worth the wait. Although, I have to be honest, your timing has always been rubbish.’

He chuckles, his deep voice vibrating against your chest as he rests his head on your shoulder like a lost puppy, gazing up at you with those wide, lost eyes, and for the first time you can finally see the adoration and awe and just pure love that’s always been in them.

For the rest of the reception. before he tells you of his plans to go back and burn Hill House to the ground, is spent with the two of you escaping from his siblings by stepping outside and sitting on Shirley’s porch. Your arms stay linked tightly together, as if afraid to let go again, and his coat is wrapped around both of your shoulders as he rests against you, just content to be surrounded by your presence.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #190 & 191

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re providing you a horror double feature- Mecha-Eli chan and Mecha-Eli chan Mk. II! Since they’re nearly identical (in NA) all you have to change between one and the other is how you roleplay. But hey, you technically get an extra build this week, go you!

Both of these servants are 100% Armorer Artificers for some fancy techno-gadgets built into their metal bodies.

Check out their builds breakdown below the cut, or their characters sheet over here!

Next up: She’s got so many pigs around her you’d think she opened a doughnut shop!

Race and Background

Shockingly, the robots... are robots. Specifically, Warforged, which gives them +2 Constitution and +1 Intelligence. They also get Constructed Resilience, which makes you a better ruler since you don’t need to eat, drink, breathe, sleep, or get sick, you get advantage and resistance to poison saves and damage. Elisabeth might get sick from eating all that candy, but you won’t even be tempted.

Instead of sleeping, you take a Sentry’s Rest, spending 6 hours in a still state- you can still see, but you can’t move without breaking the rest.

Integrated Protection gives you your first armored casing, adding +1 to your AC. You can also don armor by fusing it to your body over an hour, letting you wear heavy armor without having to take off your tutu.

Finally, you get a Specialized Design, giving you proficiency with Performance and one set of tools. If you want to get your Elisabeth on, I’d suggest Bagpipes, so you can clear the room just as fast as she can.

Being a robot makes your background a bit complicated, but you were made to rule Castle Csejte Pyramid Himeji so we’ll call you a Noble, which gives you proficiency with History and Persuasion. If you’re playing Mk. II, swap the latter over to Intimidation, boom, roleplay changes done.

Ability Scores

Your highest score should be Intelligence, you have a supercomputer for a brain, it’s not a huge stretch. Constitution comes next, aside from Babbage you’re the only servant made out of iron. So far. Your Strength should also be pretty good, while you do shoot people, you also hit them, and you have one of the most damaging NPs in the game when ignoring type advantage. Your Charisma isn’t bad per se, but your delivery does get a little stiff from time to time. Your Wisdom isn’t that great, neither of you really “get” people. Yes, humans might take offense at being forced to stay in their homes their entire natural lives. That means we’re dropping Dexterity. Your head literally falls off on a regular basis, that’s an accident that would kill most people. Also, you’re not exactly running around in leather, so it’s not like you’d need it.

Class Levels

Starting off as an Artificer gives you proficiency with Constitution and Intelligence saves, as well as two skills. Arcana is the closest thing to robotics in the forgotten realm, and Investigation will help you make a sweep of the battlefield with your robot eyes. Your first machines are made using your Magical Tinkering, adding minor effects to tiny objects. It’s not exactly the wish spell, but you can get creative with it. Speaking of Spells, you can cast and prepare those now using your Intelligence. All you have to do is be smart. Grab the cantrip Mage Hand for a non-combat use for your rocket arm, and Sword Burst so you can try spinning to damage nearby enemies with your tail. I hear it’s a neat trick. You can also cast first level spells, like Feather Fall and Jump (it’s almost flying), as well as Catapult for a prototype rocket arm. Also, if you can spare the slots, grab Detect Magic for robo scanning.

For more substantive mechanics, you’ll have to Infuse Items over a long rest, creating two items from a choice of four blueprints, both of which will go up in number as you level up. Right now, I’d suggest grabbing Goggles of Night and Sending Stones for recon missions, an Enhanced Arcane Focus for better bullets later, and an Armor of Magical Strength for a suit of armor that can either add your intelligence modifier to strength checks and saves or prevent you from getting knocked prone. Doing either spends one of six charges, which partially get refilled at dawn.

Moving to the Armorer subclass dumps you into a proper heavy armor setup, but you can make it even more impressive by turning it into Arcane Armor. This lets you ignore the strength requirements for heavy armor (which you can wear now), and you can use the armor as a spellcasting focus. There’s also stuff about the armor being a part of you, but that’s already true thanks to being a warforged. As the guardian of Hungary you get the Guardian Model, which gives you cool Thunder Gauntlets that use your Intelligence to attack instead of your strength. Creatures that you punch this way have disadvantage against other creatures for a round. It can also produce a Defensive Field as a bonus action, giving you your level in temporary HP, up to Proficiency times per long rest. Finally, you get some free armorer spells to go along with your new outfit. Magic Missiles do a good job of standing in for bullets, and Thunderwave gives you a finale for your Breast Zero Erzsébet.

Your first Ability Score Improvement is going towards making your regular attacks even more powerful with the Crusher feat, rounding up your Strength and making your fists able to shove a creature they hit once per turn, moving a large or smaller creature 5′ away. Your critical hits also give all other attacks against that creature advantage. (Catapult is a save, so I don’t think they work together, but that’s a DM thing, I guess.)

Fifth level armorers get an Extra Attack per action, so you can make enemies taste both of your hands each turn. You also get second level spells, like Mirror Image to put together some cheap factory-made knockoffs to take damage for you and Shatter for more sound-based pain. You can also prepare spells like Levitate for your first taste of flight, Enlarge/Reduce to make yourself the giant mecha you were born to be, See Invisibility for more robo-scanners, and Pyrotechnics for some movie magic.

Sixth level artificers get Tool Expertise, doubling their proficiency with all proficient tools. Now you’ll be really good at clearing out a bar with your bagpipes. You also get two more Infusions, with one more up at a time. Some Resistant Armor will make you deaf to your own music with resistance to thunder damage, or you can customize it to block out plenty of other types, like acid, cold, fire, force, lightning, necrotic, poison, psychic, radiant, or thunder. Makes a great gift for the totem barbarians in your party! You also get a Spell-Refueling Ring, because pretty soon you’ll be flying, and the worst thing you can do while flying is run out of spell slots. As an action, you’ll recover a 3rd level or lower spell slot once per day.

At seventh level, your Flashes of Genius make your smarts even smarter, letting you add your intelligence modifier as a reaction to nearby checks or saves Intelligence Modifier times per long rest. You were literally built to do everything for your subjects, it only makes sense that you’d be good at it.

Use this ASI to bump up your Intelligence for stronger spells, stronger punches, and more flashes of genius. You take a little bit to get warmed up, but that’s true of most computers.

Ninth level armorers can make Armor Modifications, turning your armor into four items for the purpose of infusion, and you can infuse an extra 2 items specifically if they’re part of your armor. That’ll be really cool next level, but what’s really cool right now is your third level spells, including the freebies Hypnotic Pattern and Lightning Bolt. I would’ve preferred fireball, but we’ll take what we can get for big guns. You can also prepare spells like Fly to fly under your own power instead of awkwardly levitating like a balloon, Haste to overclock your computer, and Intellect Fortress to lord your superior brain over the fleshlings, giving you resistance to psychic damage, and advantage on intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saves.

When you hit tenth level you become a Magic Item Adept, partially because you’re a magic item. This means you get an extra attunement slot, and crafting common or uncommon items is a lot cheaper and faster. You also learn the Fire Bolt cantrip for more options from your guns. On top of all that, you get two more infusion blueprints, and can have one more made at a time. I’d pick up some Winged Boots for concentration free flight up to 4 hours a day, and a Helm of Awareness to give a creature advantage on initiative rolls and immunity to being surprised. You don’t really wear a helmet, but you give one to Guda during the valentines events, so now you can do that in game.

At eleventh level, you can make Spell-Storing Items at the end of a long rest, shoving a 1st or 2nd level artificer spell into a weapon or focus. A creature can cast that spell from the item up to twice your Intelligence modifier times, and it is as powerful as if you cat it yourself. You can only have one spell stored this way at a time.

I really wanted to multiclass into sorcerer this build, but to be honest the final level of artificer is too good to really pass up. So instead, use this ASI to become a Metamagic Adept, gaining two sorcery points and two ways to spend them. Most of your spells are really just part of your body, so a Subtle spell will make that more obvious by making the casting less obvious. You won’t need somatic or verbal components. Alternatively, you can use a Careful spell to turn your giant blasty spells into something slightly more controlled, automatically letting one creature make their save against the spell. You use a lot of firepower for a single-target NP.

Thirteenth level artificers get fourth level spells. Fire Shield and Greater Invisibility aren’t in character, but they are useful, and using useful things is in character. You can also cast spells like Stoneskin, which is an understatement if anything, Summon Construct or Fabricate to build extra Elis, and Arcane Eye for your very own security drone. I also recommend grabbing the glyph of warding from level 3 so you can fully stock your castle with summoned versions of yourself to attack intruders.

Fourteenth level artificers are Magic Item Savants, letting you ignore all restrictions for magic item use, and you can attune to five items at a time. You also get the Prestidigitation cantrip for easy 3d printing, and two more infusions, plus one more built at a time. Grab the Belt of Hill Giant Strength for a whopping 21 strength, and an Arcane Propulsion Arm for a proper rocket punch. That last one does come with a pretty hefty price though- you will have to chop an arm off to put this one on. (Your armor will replace the arm if you have to make space for another infusion though, so it’s not all bad.) Annoyingly, this arm also deals force damage for some fucking reason, so you can’t use crusher on this either. I’d let you just punch people normally though.

Fifteenth level armorers get their final goody, giving them Perfected Armor. Now your guardian model lets you spend a reaction to pull a huge or smaller creature closer to you at the end of its turn if it fails a strength save, and if it’s pulled into melee range you can wollop it as part of the reaction. You can do this Proficiency times per long rest. We’ll consider this a giant hand giving them a nudge in your direction.

Another ASI, use this one for more Intelligence. Now you have the strongest and most flashes, as well as super strong spells and force punches.

At seventeenth level you get fifth level spells, like the freebies Passwall and Wall of Force. Technically it’s invisible, but a giant hand cupping around you to block damage is totally possible. Speaking of giant hands, Bigby’s Hand lets you make a giant mecha hand that actually acts like a hand for once. Yes, we are fitting Mecha Eli’s bit from Las Vegas in here. You can also use Creation to make an exact copy of your body, and Animate Objects to bring it to life. It’s not as powerful as the original, but that’s what you get with factory-made goods.

Eighteenth level artificers are Magic Item Masters, letting you attune to six items at once. You also get another two blueprints with another one built at the same time, so unless you’re powerbuilding grab another Arcane Propulsion Arm for two rocket fists, and a Ring of Protection for a bonus to your AC and saves.

Use your last ASI to become Tough, for 38 extra HP right away and another two when you level up again. You are literally made of steel. Come on.

Your capstone level grants you a Soul of Artifice, which is pretty busted. You get a bonus to all saves equal to the number of magic items you’re attuned to, and if you would drop to 0 HP you can end one of your infusions instead, sticking around at 1 HP. We weren’t able to make your mass-production work out that well, but if you have to die 9 times to actually go down, I’d count that as extra copies.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

You’re hard as hell to kill. With your lowest save being a +6 and the ability to add 5 to any save you don’t like the look of, magic will just slide right off you. Plus, with an AC of 20, just over 200 HP, and temporary HP from the guardian model, you have a lot of health to chew through from martial classes as well.

And that’s assuming they can even hit you! Flight is awesome, giving you plenty of mobility to avoid most combatants entirely and rain down fists and hellfire from a safe distance.

This build is highly customizable, with tons of tricks and gadgets to swap out as the situation calls for them.

Cons:

You’re super reliant on magical items to protect you, so if you get caught up in an anti-magic field it won’t be fun. Like, most artificers will have an awkward fight, but you won’t have arms.

While you have a lot of infusion options, you can’t have all of them up at once. That means you’ll have to make hard decisions constantly, and basically predict the future each long rest.

Two of the feats we took aren’t really that great, and probably should have gone towards better stats. Crusher only works on your regular punches, which are outclassed by your magic weapons, and you only get two weak uses of Metamagic per day.

[hanniiesuckle17]

The Modern Wife

HAN JISUNG REGENCY AU

A/n: Literally I’ve been so obsessed with the idea of this I had to mess up my schedule and write this. Also, omg will you look at that edit job??? I have never used photoshop in my life and look at that!!! Also special shoutout to Celi @poeticallyspaghetti​ for helping me so much with this

See how many Austen quotes you can spot!

Warnings: Slight cursing, mention of violence

Word Count: 11.5k

Summary: Miss Y/n L/n is the talk of the town. She is one of four gorgeous sisters. Her father is a successful politician who travels frequently back and forth to London. She is beautiful, poised, and absolutely unobtainable. Every man in town had been asking for her hand, all except a certain Colonel. Things are turned upside down when Miss L/n is forced into an engagement.

Genre: history!au, enemies to lovers!au, regency!au, historical!au, pride, and prejudice!au

“OW! Not so tight, Harry!” I screamed holding onto my bedposts as my maid and friend, Harriet pulled the laces tight on my corset. “Harry, are you trying to kill me?” I said with a laugh. The small thin plank of wood in the boning pressed hard against my chest and pushed up my breasts as high as they would go for no reason other than to put them on display. 

Ironic that it was unseemly to show my ankle but my cleavage could parade about the world openly. For the next forty minutes, Harriet proceeded to help me get dressed. The pale yellow frock complimented my skin nicely. Harriet always knew what I looked best in. She sat me down at my vanity while she fixed my hair, untwisted the fabric that tied my curls. Before she could finish my eyes glimpsed movement outside my window. 

“Cecilia!”

Bolting up from the chair I ran down the hall, fabric billowing behind me. I rushed passed several servants as I made my way down the sunlit passageway. “Miss Y/n,” our butler, Mr. Carson, exclaimed as I nearly ran him over. Thankfully he did not drop the glassware on his tray. “I’m sorry, Carson!” “Don’t worry about it, my lady.”

With a bright smile, I burst through the large entryway doors and was met by a gracious morning breeze, A carriage had pulled up in the driveway and a woman a few years older than me was exiting the cab with the help of a footman.

“Cecilia! You’re home!” 

“Y/n!”

Wrapping my arms around my elder sister I gave her the biggest hug imaginable. The sound of our laughter could most likely be heard from anywhere on the grounds. I was once again reunited with my sister. She had not been gone but a few months since her last visit, but it felt like ages to me. 

“I should hope I get the same welcoming as my wife,” Turning away, I saw my sister’s husband stepping out of the carriage, a kind smile on his face. “Of course, Chan. I could never forget my brother in law.” He gently gave me a hug before returning me back to my sister. 

“Is father home?” I shook my head, leading my sister arm in arm into the house. “No, he has yet to return from London.” She scoffed and held my hand tighter. “But, it is the beginning of spring! How can he miss your birthday?” Carson greeted Cecilia and Chan with a warm welcome before we continued to the parlor. 

“Do not worry. Papa said he would return in the next few days in time for the ball on Saturday. Tomorrow we girls will simply have to celebrate my nineteenth birthday together.” Chan left us to talk while he helped tried to help Carson and the footmen with the bags, much to Carson’s displeasure. Chan never could really get used to having servants do things for him.

“Where are Charlotte and Emma?” Cecilia was referring to our two younger sisters. Charlotte had turned sixteen this year and little Emma was now ten. “They are in lessons right now. Papa is still positively adamant we are all educated to the highest degree.”  “Of course, he is.”

My sister filled me in on everything that had happened in Dover in the past few months. She and Chan had moved there after they got married, much against father’s will. “Oh, Chan got a letter before we left. He said the Colonel was in London and met up with father. He might come back to Surrey for the spring.” 

Cecilia laughed as disdain took over my face. “Wonderful. There go my hopes of a lovely spring.” “He isn’t that bad, Y/n.” The Colonel was around Cecilia’s age, in his very early twenties. He was the one who introduced Chan to Cecilia. Chan had served in his infantry and had grown quite close to the young officer. 

Father adored the Colonel. Anytime the Colonel returned to Surrey, Papa would insist on us inviting him to our residence. Everyone loved the Colonel. He was a brave man who had done his country proud in the war, taking over his father’s position in the midst of battle after he tragically perished. There was just something about him that made me hate him. He walked around like he was entitled to everything around him. 

“Does that mean he’ll be returning with father?” Cecilia nodded as her husband entered the room. “Who?” Chan asked sitting across from us. “Colonel Han,” Chan nodded with a soft smile on his face, adjusting his jacket. “I assume so. Miss Y/n why are you asking about him? If my memory serves me correctly, the last time he was here you called him ‘Death’s head on a broomstick’,” 

“Well, it was rightly deserved. I’m simply asking because I would like to know when to board up Whitewater so that he simply can’t get in.” 

Cecilia’s bright blue eyes crinkled as she laughed. Running footsteps could be heard coming down the hall. In raced two girls who practically jumped on Cecilia. “Cecilia, we missed you!” Emma sang in her soft voice. Charlotte went and gave Chan a gentle hug as well. 

The next day we celebrated my birthday. Chan and Cecilia got me a lovely gift, a gorgeous leather-bound sketchbook. I knew there was no way they could possibly afford something of such quality, but Cecilia insisted I take it. Carson and the staff celebrated with us making and sharing a beautiful cake. The next two days went by quickly. Chan worked on his music, the girls continued their studies, and Cecilia and I spent the time walking the grounds and gossiping about anything and everything, with Harriet often joining us

On Thursday afternoon, Charlotte and I were strolling near the banks of the creek, for which our estate was named. The clear water quickly rushed along making almost a soft song with the wind in the trees. Soon, we began to grow tired so we headed back to Whitewater.

As we reached the estate, my eyes were drawn to a carriage and a horse stationed outside. No one was expecting visitors so it must mean father was home. Charlotte and I raced into the house, grins filling our faces. 

“Papa! Are you home?” I called out. Charlotte heard voices in the parlor, so we both ventured into the sitting room. “There are the rest of my beautiful daughters!” He exclaimed, getting up and wrapping his arms around us. It felt so good to have my father’s arms wrapped around me again. His familiar smell of burning wood and lavender. 

He pulled away and kissed each of our cheeks. “Girls, you remember Colonel Han Jisung.” I tried to hide the grimace on my face but failed. Of course. That’s whose horse was out front. My eyes fell on the man standing near the window. He wore a dark navy overcoat and pristine black boots. While his somewhat smaller and shorter than some of the other military men I had met in the past, there was no doubt about the way he commanded the room.  His shaggy brown hair was tousled from the ride back to Surrey. 

His dark eyes were hidden as he bowed and took Charlotte’s hand. A proper way to greet a lady. “Yes, unfortunately, I do remember,” I said rolling my eyes. “Believe me, feelings are the same Miss L/n.” The Colonel said giving me a curt bow. Rolling my eyes, I sat down next to Cecilia, who nudged me, giving me a look. 

“Papa, how was London?” Charlotte asked happily. Father smiled and sat back down near the fireplace. Mr. Han remained standing near where Chan was sitting. “Perfectly fine. Everything is well. It seems Napoleon’s advances in England have stopped for the time being. Also, I met quite an intriguing man and invited him to have dinner with us this evening.” 

“Is he handsome, Father?” Charlotte asked. “Charlotte, do not ask such things.” Cecilia scolded, gently pushing our sister back in her seat. “I should think so. Colonel, you are welcome to join us for supper as well.” 

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You do most days anyway,” I muttered under my breath.

Ignoring the look he sent my way I turned back to father. “Nonsense! You shall join us!” The hour seemed to drag on. Father and Mr.Han seemed to only talk about the war. Papa only paused to ask Cecilia and Chan about Dover and Chan’s music. To be fair he only asked because Cecilia forced him to be civil with Chan about his work.

Soon, The Colonel decided he should return to his estate and unpack his things. “Thank you for your time. The visit was lovely.” He said graciously. Giving everyone a short goodbye, he mounted his horse and made the travel to Ruxfield Manor a few miles to the west of Whitewater.

“That was an eventful visit,” Cecilia said wrapping her arm in mine.

“It was a delightful visit-perfect in being much too short.” 

She laughed at my comment as the two of us climbed the stairs to get ready for dinner in a few hours. Harriet helped me change for dinner and pinned up my hair leaving a few twisting strands loose framing my face. “Carson told me your father and his guests are already in the sitting room,” I sighed picking up a handheld mirror as she clasped a necklace around my neck.

“Well, then we should join them.” I stood up, smoothing the dark green fabric of the dress Harriet had picked out. As I exited my bedroom, the door next to me opened as well to reveal my sister and her husband dressed for dinner. As we approached the parlor, Carson opened the door and announced us.

“Miss Y/n and Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

All heads turned towards us as we entered the room. Two men stood up at the announcement. One was the Colonel, purely out of respect for the women of the household. His eyes never even moved to the door. The other man wore a dark almost velvet-like coat and he carried himself with high prestige. 

He had deep brown eyes and sharp features. “My darling girls,” Father exclaimed before setting down his glass of sherry. He came and kissed both of our cheeks. “Father,” I said, latching onto his arm. He led us over to the men and our sisters. 

“Mr. Han,” I said trying not to roll my eyes. He gave me a curt nod and then returned to his seat. “Y/n play nice,” Papa said jokingly. “I am, Papa!” 

“Miss Y/n,” The other man said bowing before me. I couldn’t help but give him a questioning look as he took my hand and placed a soft and chaste kiss on my skin. “Oh, and to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“Angel, this is Mr. Lee. He is a barrister in London. Minho, this is my second eldest daughter.” Mr. Lee stood up straight and looked me over with a gentle, but mischievous smile. “The pleasure is all mine. Your father has told me so much about you.” 

“Oh has he now! All good things I hope!”

“You can you tell the difference?” The Colonel mumbled, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Oh please, you are hardly agreeable yourself.”

“I do not wish people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of being forced into casual pleasantries.”

Thankfully, Carson entered the room, saving the Colonel and myself from getting into yet another altercation. “Dinner is ready to be served in the dining room.” Mr. Han scoffed when Minho bowed once again and offered me his arm. The eight of us ventured into the dining room where our new light bulbs brightened up the space from the ceiling. Father was obsessed with every new invention.

Papa took his place at the head of the table, the girls on either side of him. Cecilia sat across from her husband and the Colonel was seated next to her and across from me. Mr. Lee was seated at the other end of the table.  

Polite conversation was heard throughout dinner. The girls discussed their studies with father, who then bragged about our education to Mr. Lee. Dinner was lovely as always. Mr. Lee was beyond courteous and thanked Carson and the staff for the meal. We engaged in polite conversation. Mr. Lee seemed to pride himself in small talk because the conversation never got any bigger. “You know green is my favorite color. It is almost as if you wore that dress to see me smile.”

To be frank he was quite boring. He seemed no different than the other men I had met except for the fact he seemed fascinated by the cats on his estate. Cecilia sent me a pitiful glance and I did my best to hide my expression from Father. 

“Doori is just so mischievous. And Soongi! You would love Soongi!” Cecilia stifled a laugh as I downed the rest of the wine in my glass. I was too preoccupied forcing the alcohol down my throat that I didn’t notice Mr. Han’s soft laughter at my struggle with Mr. Lee. 

“Since we are all here and getting along so well, I would like to say something,” Father announced to the room. Carson ushered the footmen out of the room and back to the kitchen before turning back to Father at full attention. Every eye at the table was on Papa.

“After much discussion and thought, I have decided that it is time for Y/n to be married.” 

All eyes turned to me. I froze and looked around the table. Excuse me? When did my father talk to me about this? He was just marrying me off to some random noble?

“Mr. Lee and I have agreed. We would like to announce an engagement by the end of the summer.” 

This time all eyes turned to Mr. Lee at the other end of the table. “What?” Cecilia says breaking the silence that had lasted for much too long. I could do nothing but stare at the table. There were too many emotions flying around and none of them were particularly good let alone ladylike. Everyone, even the Colonel looked between my father and Mr. Lee with widened eyes. Chan watched his wife struggling to comprehend my fate. The girls stared at me looking for an answer. I felt the Colonel’s stare like a weight, when I looked up he was looking anywhere except my face. He let out a hefty sigh with an emotionless expression as he soon became fascinated with the chandelier.

“Did you think to ask me how I felt?” Papa looked at me, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “I didn’t think you would much care,” All of my sisters seemed shocked at his words. Father had always been so set on us making our own decisions. He always wanted us to be happy, especially after our mother had passed.

“Just because Cecilia decided she did not want to marry a noble doesn’t mean you can pass this onto me!” Cecilia looked down at her plate. It was no secret that Papa was outraged at her marriage to Chan. “This has nothing to do with your sister.” 

“You are sending me away! Why not just make this punishment even worse? Send me off with the Colonel, make my life completely miserable!”

“Y/n L/n!” Father yelled standing up. 

“Father you are at fault here too,” Cecilia said standing up. She rushed over and led me out of the room and up the stairs. When Harriet saw us down the hall she rushed to us and opened the door to my bedroom. “Did you hear, Harry?” You looked at the girl who sadly nodded. Of course, she had heard. People in France had heard the argument between me and Papa. Cecilia helped Harriet calm me down and change before placing a kiss on my forehead and leaving to confer with her husband. Slowly I slipped into a deep sleep hoping to forget the events of this night.

The next afternoon my sister and I strolled through the lanes of Surrey on our way to the dress shop. Cecilia had convinced me to come out and get a new dress for the ball tomorrow night with her. Despite my protests, she and Harriet dragged me out of bed and helped slip by my father’s study and into town. 

I had to admit, I was thankful to be away from Whitewater. Walking into the dress shop with my sister on my arm felt freeing. Like I wasn’t about to be engaged to a man I had absolutely no interest in. 

Breathing in the smell of the wood and the fabrics put a smile on my face. Cecilia ran over to the rolls of blue fabric. I had missed coming to the seamstress with my older sister. In Dover Chan and Cecilia didn’t have enough money to get a new dress more than once or twice a year, so Cecilia was thrilled to come with me. 

“What color do you think you would like?” Cecilia shouted from over her shoulder, pulling out a dress with baby blue fabric and white lace. I shrugged and sorted through the different dresses. “I will wear anything but green. Minho would not stop talking about how I wore his favorite color at dinner.” Cecilia laughed as I brushed passed a light green ensemble without hesitation. 

“Why don’t we send you in black since it is going to be your funeral anyway,” Cecilia said throwing a black frock at me. I laughed and returned the dress to the seamstress. “Y/n, what about this?” She handed me a gorgeous red dress that was embroidered with pearls and gold thread. 

“I have not worn red since we were little girls. It’s absolutely gorgeous!” The seamstress helped us try on the dresses before we paid for them and changed back. Cecilia laughed as I recounted the conversation with Mr. Lee as we walked out of the shop. I felt uneasy. Like something was off. Looking around I saw several young men from the town walking about and standing near shops but they all seemed to be looking anywhere but me, which was very abnormal. 

“Do you think they heard about the engagement? It isn’t even official yet!” Cecilia said, reading my mind. An exasperated sigh left my chest. “Nor will it be. I will marry Lee Minho over my dead body.” 

“Oh, Miss Y/n!” a voice called out from across the street. 

Looking for the source of the deep voice I found Lee Felix, Colonel Han’s aide. And of course, next to him, was Colonel Han Jisung himself. My sister laughed as the Colonel and I both grimaced. Despite the second protests of the day, Cecilia dragged me over to greet the two soldiers. 

Han and Felix gave the two of us military level bows and Felix greeted us happily. “I see you two ladies are enjoying today’s fine weather.” Mr. Han said looking around at the scenery, his hands behind his back and his posture incredibly straight. “Yes, Y/n and I were out shopping for an ensemble for the ball tomorrow.” 

Felix’s grin grew three times larger. “I see that!” He said pointing to the folded dresses in our arms. “Oh Colonel, Miss Y/n picked out a red dress! What a coincidence!” Han spared me and the dress in my arms a glance before scoffing and looking at Felix. “What is a coincidence? Do tell,” I said, a smirk falling on my lips. “Jisung was just saying how gorgeous the red roses were at Ruxfield.” 

“Ow-” Cecilia nudged my stomach with an innocent grin on her sweet oval face. “Y/n just adores roses! She was sketching them in the garden, just the other day.” Cecilia’s blue eyes sparkled as she nudged me once again. What was she getting at? They were just flowers. 

The Colonel looked up at my words, his eyes slightly widening. He quickly recovered and trained his eyes on the ground. “Well, Felix and I have much to attend to. I am sure we shall meet again tomorrow night.” I rolled my eyes as Han mounted his horse, Felix following close behind. 

“Come, we must prepare for tomorrow night, given this new information!”

“Cecilia! What new information? Stop pulling on my arm!”

The carriage rumbled to a stop in front of the Hall. My father the girls and I were all in one cab, while Chan and Cecilia rode in a separate carriage. A footman opened the door and helped me down from the cab. He gently took each of my sisters’ hands as they exited as well. The music swelled as we entered the Hall with our father in front of us.

Emma quickly ran off to the table filled with sweets and hour devours, and Charlotte was towed away by her friends. “Miss L/n!” Turning, I saw Mr. Lee pushing his way through the crowd. Wonderful. The last person I wanted to see.  Like a leech, Mr. Lee latched himself onto my arm. “Are you quite good at dancing, Miss L/n? I fancy myself quite the dancer. They do all the latest court dances in London you see.”

“If you would excuse me, Mr. Lee, I am quite parched,” I said interrupting the never ending stream of words. “Yes, quite alright. I shall miss every second you are parted from me!” Minho said placing a kiss on my hand. Begrudgingly, I plastered a smile on my face and maneuvered my way through the crowd. 

Spotting my sister’s golden brown hair, I moved through the flood of people. Her beautiful baby blue dress stood out against the dark colored suits and dresses around her. She stood next to her husband and another man. “Cecilia, thank goodness.” I heaved out in a sigh. “My dear sister, you look ravishing! Don’t you think so, Mr. Han?” Turning I saw The Colonel dressed in fine navy blue. His eyes drunk me in with a disenchanted expression.

“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humor at the present to give consequence to young ladies with such ‘modern’ attributes.” 

Only to uphold my social presence and reputation did I refrain from slapping him. How could he say something so ghastly right to my face. Before I could fire back Chan interrupted, questioning his friend. “Han, do you plan on joining in the festivities? I certainly plan on bringing my adoring Cecilia onto the dance floor tonight. There is absolutely nothing like dancing after all. It is one of the first refinements of a polished society.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and placing his hands behind his back in a seemingly military sense. 

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.” “Not every savage-” Cecilia ventured. “I assure you, Mrs. Bang. Every savage can. Even damn Napoleon, so no I do not think I shall partake in the such an adolescent event.” 

The urge to shove his head up his ass grew stronger within me by the second, but I don’t think anything would be able to move past the gargantuan log shoved up there already. “Well, my dearest, would you accompany me onto the dance floor.” Chan said with a bright smile, offering a hand to his wife. Her lace gloved hand slid into his with a smile. Just as they were leaving a voice called out over the sea of guests. 

“Miss L/n! Where are you my love? Miss Y/n?” My eyes widened as I saw Minho’s head bobbing through the crowd. “Ah! Miss Y/n! There you are!” He said pointing in my direction. 

“Oh lord help me. Quick!” Without thinking I grabbed the nearest coat sleeve and pulled the man out onto the dance floor, a new dance beginning. “What in all hell?” He exclaimed, eyes turning to saucers. 

A sigh of relief left my lips as Minho walked right passed my previous location, still looking for me. Music swelled and the couples around me started dancing so I joined in with my partner. My heart skipped a beat when my eyes fell on Mr. Han standing in front of me, gently holding my hand and bowing. I curtsied to him and focused on looking for Mr. Lee in the crowd. Hopefully he wasn’t too close. Absentmindedly I followed the steps of the dance, my palm pressing lightly against the Colonel’s as we moved through the steps and turns of the dance. 

Halfway through the song, my eyes followed Mr. Lee as he searched for me into another room. This time a sigh of relief escaped as my focus turned back to the dance. I then became very aware of Mr. Han’s hand on my waist. “Mr. Han, I didn’t realize you could dance.” I jested a smirk playing on my lips. His face remained the same but there was something about his eyes that was different. 

“Miss L/n, I said any savage can dance. I am not excluded.” 

I was left without a retort. I simply stared at him as he circled and came behind me, one hand on my waist, the other gently holding my outstretched hand. The feeling of his chest against my shoulder  was unfamiliar but somehow inviting. He smelled like gun powder and old books. My eyes couldn’t seem to break away from his as we turned and moved with the music. 

The entire world seemed to dissolve away and all I could see was how he was looking at me. How he was holding me gently and cautiously, as if I was a butterfly in his palm. He had a softness in his eyes I had never seen before. The kind that showed a tortured past. Had he always been this handsome? 

Somehow I had never noticed the smooth lines of his face. The soft curve of his lips. The sharp angle of his jaw and the color of his warm tan skin from being in the sun on the battlefield. I had been completely oblivious. I was too stubborn to see the honorable man in front of me. I was even unkind to him on so many occasions yet he looked at me with such a hidden admiration. 

Our movements came to a stop and the Colonel stayed by my side, my hand still resting gently over his. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from his stare. 

“Miss Y/n,” A voice called. Everyone was looking at me. Looking at us. Confusion and suggestion plastered on their faces. Suddenly the Colonel’s hands removed themselves he moved a good distance away from me. 

“Next time you would like to hide from your fiancee, use someone else as a shield. I would much rather not be involved in the manner.”

With a sharp, curt bow the Colonel excused himself and rushed off, disappearing into the bustling and whispering crowd. The gossip seemed to stop when Emma ran up to me, her big bright eyes sparkling. Leaving the moment between myself and Mr. Han behind, I danced with my sisters the rest of the night and did my best to fend off my soon to be fiancee. 

Hours later the evening drew to a close. Emma was already asleep and had returned to Whitewater with father a few hours earlier in our carriage. Charlotte and I walked out of the Hall our arms linked and laughing about Lady Moss’s hair piece. “Can you believe it?” Lottie laughed out of breath.

A yell from the street pulled our attention. “Your master stepped over the line!” A huge crowd had surrounded two very young men near the road. A fight had broke out between two footmen. I winced seeing a blow land on the smaller one’s face and another to his cut. My eyes widened when I caught a glimpse of his face. It was Felix. Colonel Han’s aide. 

“Lottie, go find Chan and Cecilia.” Nodding, she ran back into the hall to find our sister. I pushed my way through the crowd trying to see what was going on. Felix was doing his best to hold his ground against the other boy. It looked like Minho’s steward, Seungmin. “I have no control over what the Colonel does. You’re crazy!” Felix said blocking another swing. 

“Hey! Break it up! Stop this juvenile combat!” A voice boomed. Han himself pushed through the crowd and plowed through Seungmin, a hand clutching the collar of the boys shirt. “You do not touch him. If your quarrel is with me then face me so. Do not be a coward and go after my aide.” There was a fire in his eyes and Seungmin looked terrified. The power Han exuded would frighten any man. 

Seungmin, regaining his composure, threw a punch at the Colonel, landing on his jaw. While he seemed mostly unaffected, Seungmin took the opportunity to wriggle out of Jisung’s tight grasp. Han scoffed, and threw of his coat, rolling up his sleeves as well. “You will certainly regret doing that.” The crowd cheered as Han took a strike. His slim form allowed him to move with agility and strike with force. It was clear that Seungmin was done for. 

Another person burst through the crowd as Han threw Seungmin off of him. Minho caught his steward, pulling him up by the arm. He took Seungmin’s cheek in his hand and examined the boy’s beaten face, before handing him off to another footman. His glare then targeted the Colonel who stood out of breath and dark brown hair tousled. 

“How dare you assault my boy?” Minho screamed, pointing a finger at Mr. Han. “Do not jump to assumptions, my friend. Your boy att-” “First you try to seduce my fiancee in front of the entire town- then you assault my aide!” Han let out a breathy laugh before pointing at himself. “Me? You think I would ever be interested in the a woman such as Miss L/n?” His finger moved to point at me, but my glare in his direction was ignored. 

“Your man attacked mine first! It is you who needs to apologize! I will not have my staff humiliated and beaten by scum like you or your servants.” Han said beginning to get an almost erratic look in his eyes. “That’s it,” Minho said throwing his coat onto the ground. Without hesitation he leaped into the fight. The crowd cheered them on as I watched in horror.

“Stop! Stop this right now!” I screamed, but no one listened. Mr. Lee’s fist connected with Han’s temple, making his eyes go dark for a moment, before returning. Mr. Lee took the opportunity to throw Han over his shoulder and onto the ground before my feet. 

“Mr. Lee, stop right this instant! Both of you! There is no use fighting over me! this is complete nonsense.” Mr. Han’s eyes rolled over to me as he sat up. He winced as he moved to stand up. It took all of my power not to break his stare. 

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn about you.”

Why did his words wound me? The hurt must have shown on my face for a brief moment because once again his eyes softened. Before he could say something Mr. Lee took a cheap shot, his fist flying across Han’s cheek. My eyes did not fail to miss the drops of blood that landed on the dirt. Han wasted no time in fighting back. 

“ENOUGH!” I screamed. Reputation be damned. I was finished. I had enough. Storming up, with all my strength I pushed the men apart. The two seemed insistent on continuing the brawl. The only thing stopping the Colonel from destroying Mr. Lee was my hands pushing against his shoulders. “You know nothing about me!” My loathsome future fiancee shouted.

“You are only trying to buy her from her father; like she is some prize!” Han sneered. “She is not some timepiece or your stupid pet!” Hearing a yell from Mr. Lee I turned to stop him only to feel a strike against my head. My vision started to blur and my head started to spin before I felt myself fall to the ground. 

Every person froze. Mr. Lee and the Colonel watched in horror as I collapsed to the ground barely conscious. Not a second later Chan burst through the crowd with Cecilia in tow, breaking up the fight. She gasped seeing my body on the ground. Quickly she rushed to my side and cradled my head in her lap. 

“Quick! Someone help!” Felix, still recovering from his beating, rushed over without hesitating. With some struggle, he got my partially limp body in his arms as Cecilia led him to where our carriage should have been. Han seemed to snap out of his shock, and he rushed to Felix’s side. “Mr. L/n took their carriage. Felix, we’ll go in ours.” Nodding, Felix turned and rushed to the Colonel’s cab and gently placed me on the seat. Cecilia placed my head in her lap as Han jumped into the cab with us, worry painted all over his face. 

Felix jumped up into the coach’s seat. Han pounded on the carriage wall and screamed for Felix to go. “Felix, hurry! To Whitewater. Take the back road it’s  faster!”  Han prayed that they could return to my estate fast enough to call a doctor. When the carriage pulled to a stop, the Colonel took me from Cecilia’s lap and held me in his arms, letting my head roll onto his chest. 

“Into the house! Carson! Carson, call the physician!”

Mr. Han carried me up the steps of the porch and impatiently yelled at Felix to hold the door. The poor boy rushed up and let Han carry me through the doorway. Han cautiously handed my semi-conscious body over to Carson. His brow furrowed, concern flooding his features as he watched my loving staff rush to my aid. Carson placed me gently on a sofa  and Cecilia carefully undid the tight curls in my hair so my head had somewhat less pain. 

 Han could do nothing but stand off to the side watching in distress. “Miss Bang...please let me offer my assistance-”

“You have done enough,”

Cecilia did not mean her words to come out as harsh as they did. He knew that. He scolded himself at his thoughts. ‘If only Y/n had not gotten in the way.’ ‘Lee Minho will pay for what he has done.’ A touch on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Turning he saw Felix, a frown on his face. “Sir, we should return to Ruxfield. I will be sure to inquire of Miss L/n’s health in the morning.” Almost as if he was giving him no choice, Felix guided the Colonel back to his carriage and the two departed. 

The next morning I awoke to find both Cecilia and Harriet sleeping beside me. Harriet even in her sleep was still holding cloth wrapped ice to my forehead. Sensing my movement, Harriet woke up and asked millions of questions about how I was feeling. 

Cecilia then woke up not long after. She recounted what happened  after the fight and then left to let me change for the day. The next week went by with no word from the Colonel. Felix came by the first morning to give his apologies at the Colonel’s request. Sadly, Mr. Lee visited almost daily. I had taken to sketching in the book gifted to me by my sister, hoping this would come as a distraction from remembering certain interactions from that night. 

The afternoon was perfect. A light rain had come in the morning, leaving droplets on the the flowers in the garden. Now the sun was out and shining, as I sat on a bench outside with my sketchbook amongst the flowers. “My lady you have a visitor.” Carson said from the stone walkway. The garden had somewhat of a keyhole stone path, with a fountain and stone circle at the center. Mr.Carson stood near the fountain. Through the water you could see the outline of a man’s over coat. “If it is Mr. Lee send him away. I am in no mood to entertain him today.”

“Mr. Lee is not the one asking for visitation,” A smooth deep voice spoke as its owner moved from behind the fountain. 

Colonel Han stood a little in front of Carson, looking at you with a serious expression. The same he wore every day of his entire life, except it his eyes. His eyes once again held that softness, as if it was a sight only you could bring out of him. “I’d have to jump off a bridge if I was that cat loving bigot.”  A hint of a smile slid onto his lips. 

He was correct. Mr. Han was nothing like Mr. Lee. Han was rough. He had edges. He never primped himself like Mr.Lee did. I couldn’t help but drink him in. His dark hair was shaggy and he only wore a simple shirt and the old navy overcoat he seemingly never took off. His boots were dirty and scuffed, but well taken care of. A sign of his daring acts but military discipline. A blush came over my cheeks as I remembered the feeling of dancing with him, his chest against my back.

“Jis- Colonel... to what do I owe the pleasure.” I closed my sketchbook and placed it beside me on the stone bench. “Papa is in London, but he should return by nightfall.” In all of my life I had never been nervous in front of a man other than my father. I believed a woman should be a strong and elegant vision, not simply standing behind a man but beside him if at all. So why could I not meet Mr. Han’s eyes. 

“I’m not here to see your father. I’m here to see you.”

My eyes widened at his words. Nothing was different about him. He still stood straight with his arms behind his back, keeping a respectable distance form me. His face remained stoic as if he was reading from a war plan. “Thank you, Carson. You may leave us,” 

It was Han’s turn to be flustered upon hearing my words. Being the respectful man he was he always adhered to the social protocol of a woman and man never being alone unless with a chaperone. Carson raised his brow in question, but complied, entering the house.

A moment of awkward silence followed. Then another. And another. It was almost like Mr. Han had lost the ability to function after being alone with me. Nervously, I played with the fabric of my dress. What could he possibly want to discuss with me. We have hardly had a pleasant conversation in our entire lives. “Miss Ln-” His words halted when I looked up at him. His eyes went immediately to my face. I knew exactly what he was looking at. The bruise from that night. It was lighter now, having had a week to heal, but still visible.

“Oh Y/n...” He reached out as if to touch my face, but thought better of it and pulled back. There was no longer a wide expanse between us. He now stood only a few feet away from where I sat.  “We are not even wed, and yet I have already forsaken you and broken a valiant code...” He muttered under an aggravated sigh.

He was grateful that I didn’t hear it. “If you are indeed here for me, please enlighten me of your purpose for I am in the dark.” I said pushing a strand of loose hair around my face. As he opened his mouth to speak a deep voice called his name. 

“Colonel Han!”

Felix came running out of Whitewater. He was out of breath and his hair and clothes were out of place, like he had just gotten off his horse. He handed on a sealed envelope and whispered something in Mr. Han’s ear.  Immediately, Han opened the letter with his long nimble fingers. His eyes quickly scanned the letter, leaving me in anxious silence. 

“What is it?” I asked on the edge of my seat. Han handed the letter back to Felix and whispered something back to him. Felix spared me a glance before leaving us alone. 

The Colonel raked a hand through his already slightly disheveled hair and turned his back to me. Something was compelling me to reach out to him. “Jisung,” He turned at the sound of his name. My mind had yet to register the fact this was the first time I had actually said his name. He on the other hand, did notice.

“What is the matter?” He sighed and looked back at the house. Felix was standing by the door, discussing something with Carson. “Napoleon has resumed his advances on the border.” It took me a moment for me to process the information. This was news that was not for me to hear. “Why-”

“They are calling me to the front line.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Felix gave me my orders just now. I leave in the morning.”

This meant so many things. This meant our country was once again at war with France. It meant Father would have to stay in London. It meant Mr. Han would be sent to the heat of the battle commanding easily a thousand men in combat. It meant Jisung...was being sent into battle that he might not come back from.

Why did I even care? I was in line to be engaged. Granted it was to a spinless snob I practically loathed. “I may be a bitter married woman when you returned. Then our arguments will be that much more interesting.” Another look flashed across his face. Almost like he was disappointed that was what I had chosen to say. Like he had wished I had asked him to stay.

“Let’s hope for the both of us that is not true when I return.”

Before I could understand his words Felix returned, this time with Carson behind him. He came to Mr. Han’s side and urgently whispered something in his ear. Han nodded and brushed him off before turning back to me, his eyes growing soft. Gently, he took my hand. All I could do was watch as he brought it up to his lips and softly kissed my knuckles. 

It was an action I had experienced many times from many men. All seeking for my hand in marriage. But this. This was different. This felt intimate. Like the kiss was burning itself into my skin as if to mark me for life. His eyes joined mine as he pulled away. 

“Colonel, we have to go.” Felix said breaking the silence. Han slid his hand from mine and he turned to follow Felix back to Ruxfield to prepare for is departure. My body could do nothing but watch him leave.

“You’re all grown up now, Miss Y/n.” Carson said. He had the kindest smile on his face as he came to sit on the bench, pulling me down with him. “What do you mean, Carson?” He sighed, taking my hand in his. Carson was nothing like my father. He and my mother were very close and Mr. Carson always seemed like a real father figure in my life. He was the one who taught me to dance, and what books I should read, and even how to play poker. 

“You are falling in love. I would know that look anywhere.” Love? With the Colonel. Impossible. I despised him. Right? “I am not in love. If I was in love I would be getting married.” He chuckled and patted my hand. “Aren’t you though?”

“Carson, do you see me voluntarily marrying that mess of a man?”

“Are you speaking of Lord Lee or Colonel Han?”

Blinking, the thought crossed my mind. Of course I was talking about Mr. Lee right. I was set to marry him. Was Carson saying I should marry Mr. Han? Marrying Colonel Han Jisung. The thought had never crossed my mind. Now that it did, why did my heart swell.

“Of course I’m speaking of Mr. Lee. Father would forbid anyone else.” Carson nodded, looking over the garden. “So, are you saying there is someone else?” He took my silence as an answer, smiling. 

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Y/n. From this day you must be a stranger to one of us. Your father will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Lee, and I would never see you again if you do.” 

A warm, fatherly smile filled his eyes. “Do you love him?” There was no question of who he was talking about. “While I have lost my heart, I shall not lose my self control. I will not become one of those silly girls running around with their heads in the clouds controlled by love.” Carson laughed and picked a flower near the bench.

“Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.” 

Before I could respond I was interrupted by what seemed like the fourth time today. “Y/’n! Y/n!” Cecilia ran out of the house a grin from ear to ear. Emma and Charlotte followed hot on her heels. Her light blue dress blew behind her as she ran over to us. “Y/n, I’m pregnant!” After blinking a few times I wrapped her up in a hug and cheered. Carson joined us and we all went inside to celebrate Cecilia’s news, leaving the conclusion of my conversation with Carson in the back of my mind.

Spring came and went. Soon came the long months of summer and with it came heavy summer storms. The Whitewater creek was filled to capacity and quite dangerous. Father had come home from London and the tensions had been high ever since he returned. Papa seemed hell bent on my marriage to Mr. Lee. 

Every chance he got he brought up the engagement. I was starting to think Carson may have been right. Every mention of Mr.Lee drove me further away from him and made me wonder about another man...far away. 

Another man who didn’t write. Not once. I found myself jumping to the door when Carson delivered our mail to our rooms. Weeks passed and still I heard no word from him. Weeks turned into months until it became the middle of summer. Still no word from the Colonel. Not even to my father about the war. I was beginning to worry something had happened. Certainly he wouldn’t forget about me after a goodbye like that? Why did I even care? I hated the man. Yes, I hated the man. I had all the right to hate him if he wasn’t going to send me even one letter. 

Another summer storm raged outside my window. “Miss you will have to leave your room sometime.” Harriet said, hanging up some of my laundry. “If Cecilia will not leave her room then I too shall not.” Harriet laughed as I watched the water pelt against the glass. “Miss Y/n, your sister is ordered by the doctor to bed rest. Chan is taking care of her. You are simply sulking over your engagement.” 

“I am not sulking over my engagement.”

“Then a certain Colonel perhaps? Maybe the lack of a letter?” 

Before I could correct my friend, Carson knocked on the door and entered. “My lady, your father wishes to speak to you in his study.” I sighed, turning back to the window. “Carson, I am in no mood to speak to Papa.” Harsh winds blew the trees in the forest just outside the estate. “My lady, he is leaving for London in an hour. He is insistent on speaking to you.”

Carson gave me a small smile. He was probably right. It was better to simply speak to him before he left than ignore him until he returned home. With a sigh, I got up from my window seat. Harriet straightened my dress and adjusted the loose but proper style she had done to my hair this morning. I knew exactly what awaited me behind the heavy wooden doors. My knuckles softly wrapped against the oak. 

“Enter,” 

The gruff voice of my father echoed as I opened the door. He sat at his desk writing a letter or some other important document. “Papa, you wanted to talk to me?” I said standing near one of the many bookshelves in his study. “Yes, about your marriage.” 

“Papa. I already told you I will not marry Mr. Lee-”

“The date has been set. You will marry Lee Minho in one month’s time.”

My jaw dropped in disbelief. “Father!” He didn’t even look up from his work. “Do not ‘Father’ me. You knew this was going to happen. You will marry Mr. Lee. You will do as your told. It is your duty as a woman of this household.” What? My what?

“My duty as woman?” 

“Yes.”

“Father, I have no duty as woman. Especially to you. I will not marry a man who I do not love. It is not my duty to obey your every command!” This was when he chose to look at me. His eyes turned cold. “Y/n L/n. You are my daughter. You will do as I say!” Rage filled every inch of my body. “No! I will control my own life! I will not marry him and that is final! Times are changing. It is time you changed with them, Father!” The sound of his chair screeching against the wood floor made me flinch. “We are a family of tradition! I will not let your silly misguided modern values change our family!”

His voice boomed loud enough for the entire estate to hear. “What would mother think of this! She would never-” “DO NOT BRING YOUR MOTHER INTO THIS!” A book  flew across the room. Never the less I stood  my ground, staring straight back at him even though tears threatened to spill over my eyes. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you would just be-” 

“If you are going to continue this kind of behavior then I want you out of Whitewater until you come to your senses!” 

A silence followed; the kind that hurt. The kind you could feel- like needles plunging into your skin. Rain continued to fall on the roof and windows like bullets. 

“So be it.” 

With word I stormed out of the study and towards the door. Shouts from the staff could be heard behind me as I burst through the doors and out into the rain. “My lady! Y/n!” Carson called. My feet carried me to the stables. Grabbing a saddle and mounting the closest horse I rode out into the storm.

Finally able to let tears flow away from any eyes, I screamed. Never had I felt so much agony. My own father was shunning me. The man I admired had abandoned me and was sent to war. The man I despised was forcing me into marriage. My skin burned as harsh rain pelted against it. The wind blew through my hair pulling it loose.

Even through all this pain it felt...freeing. It felt amazing to run through the forest outside of Whitewater, thunder rolling in the air and rain showering down. My heart still wretched in pain. I missed my family, despite our arguments. Most of all I missed Mr. Han, despite our many many differences.

A loud crack boomed through the sky and a flash of white burst in front of my horse. I screamed as the horse  reared, throwing me off its back onto the forest floor. I felt a pain against the back of my head upon impact. The horse sprinted away in fear leaving me stranded. 

“Help!” I screamed into the dark. My legs struggled to hold themselves up and my vision started to become blurry. It became indecipherable what was rain or tears on my cheeks.

The world started to spin as I walked forward. I must have been ‘walking’ for hours. The cold had started to set in and the rain showed no sign of stopping. By now I was miles away from Whitewater and the closest estate was fifteen miles east.

“Help me...” 

My dress was getting heavier and heavier despite the fabric being so light before. It clung to my skin and my hair hung in dark wet strands in front of my face.  Over the thundering storm I thought I heard hoof beats through the forest. I must have been hallucinating. Not being able to hold myself up anymore, I leaned against a tree.

“Y/n?” 

Definitely hallucinating. I was even hearing his voice now. How did I remember what his voice sounded like? Exhaustion started to set in, the pain and cold making my eyes droop and my body feel even heavier. 

“Y/n? Y/n, where are you?” 

Through my blurry vision I thought I saw the outline of a horse and rider wearing a dark navy coat. “Y/n!” My strength was wearing thin. Taking a chance, that it wasn’t my imagination I pushed myself off the tree and stumbled forward. “Oh god! Y/n stay where you are I’m coming!”

Hooves pounded against the ground growing closer. My head started ti spin even more as the rider jumped off his horse and rushed to me. Before I could fall, I was taken in a pair of strong arms. The edges of my vision started to blackout, my hearing came in and out, and my body shivered trying to keep itself warm. The person clutched me to their chest and pushed the wet pieces of hair away from my face, desperation in their deep voice. “Miss L/n? Y/n, can you hear me? I’ve got you now. I’m here.”

My throat felt dry. “The Colonel...he-he didn’t write to me. I’m...I’m still waiting for his letter. I can’t leave...” The rider sighed and I tried to make out his face. “Do you know Colonel Han? He told me not to get married...so I didn’t...” The words came out in slurs but they came out nonetheless. The rider clutched my head to their chest gently. 

“I know, darling, I’m sorry.” He gently laid me on the forest floor and took off his coat wrapping it around me. “I couldn’t even though I wanted to.” Gently he picked me up as if I weighed nothing and moved over to the horse. Through my haze I heard him curse. Even in my state I knew there was no way he could get myself and him on the horse safely. 

“Stay with me, darling.” I tried to focus on the rider’s words as he tried to figure out how to get me to safety. The exhaustion won out, leaving me in the darkness. 

Colonel Han kept his head. He couldn’t panic. Not even when he saw her eyes close shut. “Damn.” His dark hair clung to his forehead as he searched for a solution. She wouldn’t last much longer. Her body was already freezing in his arms. 

His horse was too high to lift her up and Ruxfield was too far to walk. Why was she outside of Whitewater in the first place? In a storm? Whitewater. Whitewater was no more than five miles away. He could make it there. Forgetting about his exhaustion from the ride back from the front line, Jisung adjusted the woman in his arms, resting her head against his chest and his arms under her legs, he began walking all the way back to Whitewater. 

His arms and legs burned as he climbed over the last hill. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw Whitewater in the distance through the rain. “We are almost there, darling. Hold on for me.” He just had to hold on long enough to reach Whitewater. To see Y/n was alright.

With his last burst of energy, Jisung burst through the front doors of Whitewater. “HELP! I need a physician! Someone help!” Several staff including Carson rushed up to him, seeing Y/n in his arms. “Quickly, upstairs!” he said, making a path for Jisung. She shivered in his arms as he carried her down the hall and up the stairs. 

“Harriet call the physician! Tell him it’s an emergency!” A girl he had scene with Y/n before nodded and rushed to call a doctor. “Y/n! Where is she! Y/n!” Cecilia called rushing to the Colonel. “Cecilia, love, move!” Chan said wrapping the woman in his arms. “Where is Father? He should be here!” She said as they moved passed her. “Your father left for London.” Carson said. 

Carson rushed to push open the door to the girl’s bedroom. The Colonel gently placed the girl on her bed and let the staff rush around the room to help her. All he could do was watch as the only woman he had thought about for the past four months lay helpless on her bed, shivering. 

A pair of strong hands pushed him softly out of the room and into the hall. He looked up to find Chan. “Han, you are freezing.” “I am fine,” He tried to get a look back into the room, but a maid closed the door. “You need to rest. You just returned on leave.” 

“Chan I will be fine!” 

Reluctantly, the man left Jisung alone in the hall. He watched as people walked in and out of the room, rushing with towels, blankets, wet clothes, new clothes, even hot kettles. Soon a physician arrived and entered her room. It felt like hours that Jisung had waited outside her door. Finally the girl, Harriet, walked out. She jumped when he grabbed her arm.

“Give me an occupation miss-or I shall go mad.”

Taking in the man’s tired state she handed him a towel. “The doctor says Ms. L/n hit her head and has a serious case of hypothermia.” She watched as Mr. Han sighed and ran a hand through his wet shaggy hair. “Please let me do something. Anything.” All she could offer was the smallest smile. 

“You’ve done all you can possibly do. Thank you for saving my mistress.” 

With a sorrowful nod he watched as she walked away. “We would be happy to set up a room for you, sir. We would be happy to keep you updated on how the lady is doing.” He gave Harriet a kind smile. “That would be very generous, Miss. I’ll only be staying for the two nights, if that is alright. I have orders to return to the line.” With a nod, Harriet went to prepare a room for the Colonel.

During those two days, Mr. Han never left her side. He stayed by her bedside helping Harriet and Cecilia with anything they asked. One the morning of his departure he gave Cecilia the name of his personal carrier. “If there is any change please let me know. The letter will go directly to me.” She nodded and took the piece of parchment watching the Colonel leave once again.

Sunlight streamed through my window. My head pounded and my body still felt cold.  Slowly I slipped out of my bed, feet placing themselves slowly on the cool wood floor. “You are awake!” Cecilia screamed. Rushing over she practically tackled me back onto my bed. “Cecilia, the baby!” “Oh I don’t care you are okay! Thank heavens you are okay!” 

I couldn’t help but smile as she hugged me. “Chan will kill you if you hurt his child before it’s even born.” “Shhhhhhhh! Not now. My sister has returned from the dead.” Laughing she hugged me even harder. 

“Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled away and rushed to my dresser. When she returned she had a letter in her hands. “This came for you yesterday. You have been asleep for almost a week. You needed quite a lot of rest. I don’t blame you.” She handed me the envelope with a small smile. “Wait, where are you going?” I asked as she started to leave my room. “I think I should leave you alone with that.” Something about her smile made me laugh.

My shaking hands opened the letter with my name addressed on it in rough but elegant handwriting. When I opened it the familiar smell of gunpowder and old parchment reached my nose. The same handwriting greeted me as I read the letter.

“Miss Ln,

I have written this letter many times, but have been a coward to not send it. I had hoped I would be home to say this-but it seems Napoleon has different plans than I. 

Miss L/n, I would like to apologize from the bottom of my heart. There were a thousand times I wanted to write to you, but events on the front line prevented me. I would like to apologize for not getting to you sooner that day. I wish I had been there soon for you, my darling. 

I pray that by the time you get this letter you are not yet married to that insolent pitiful disgrace of a man. Though the timing may be off I have something to ask of you. Something to confess...

Miss L/n you have bewitched me- body and soul. To what time I fell so deeply under your spell, I cannot recall. I know not the hour or the spot or the words or even the look that lay the foundation. I was in the middle before I even began. What a proud fool I was. To think my stubbornness was the only thing keeping me from you.  In vain I have struggled, but it will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and...love you.

It seems as if the only thing keeping me alive in this battle is the image of you smile. I would die a thousand deaths for that smile.

I have heard your father’s news of your wedding. I beg of you. Do not follow through. I hope that perhaps there is something I can offer. Miss L/n...should I return, I would like to humbly request for your hand. I know I have no right to you, nor should any man. You are the most strong woman I have ever had the pleasure and fortune of meeting, and to me it makes you the most beautiful woman to walk this earth. 

I hope to hear from you soon, my darling. Until then, I shall be fighting for the day that I do. I long for the day I am home. 

In hope,

Han Jisung”

I sat in disbelief. Colonel Han Jisung had written me a letter professing his love. He proposed... Leaving the letter on my  bed I walked to the window. The audacity. To ask me over a letter? A knock sounded at the door pausing my pacing. “Enter,” Harriet paused when she saw the look on my face. “Miss, what’s the matter.”

“Harry, I believe I have a serious decision to make.” 

 Months passed. Summer turning into mid fall. Father’s supposed wedding date for me had long passed. Each time Mr. Lee had visited Carson had turned him away. More letters from the Colonel had arrived, but they all said the same thing and soon they came to a stop. Cecilia had given birth not to long ago, to a beautiful baby boy. Chan and my sister had named the child Benjamin. 

News came that the war ended, England victorious. Soon I would be expecting a visitor. I sat in the garden with my sketchbook, drawing the few flowers that were left in the beds among other things. A certain face had popped up in the pages of my book several times. “Miss Y/n,” I looked up to see Carson walking down the pathway. 

“You have a visitor.”

A smirk fell across my lips. “Well, I believe I have been expecting him so let us not keep him waiting any longer.” With a smile, Carson returned into the house to fetch my guest. Patiently, I waited for the guest to come out and see me. I heard the sound of boots against the stone pathway and smiled.

“Good afternoon, Colonel.”

“Yes, indeed, Miss L/n.”

There was a nervous expression on his face. Once again he looked like he had just returned from active duty. His dark hair had grown a little longer and he wore the same navy overcoat again. His shirt underneath was covered in black powder and some of the buttons were undone to reveal his tan and slightly toned chest. Yes, definitely just returned. Returned with no time to change apparently. 

Quickly I brought my attention back to my sketchbook in hopes that it would hide the heat spreading on my cheeks. “Did...you receive my letters?” Self control regained, I turned my attention back to Mr. Han. “Why yes, Colonel Han, I did in fact receive several letters.”

“And you are not married...”

“No, I am not.”

The man stood perfectly still in military fashion, his hands clasped behind his back. “Well are you going to speak? You certainly did not come to Whitewater just to stare at me did you?” Shock crossed Han’s face. It was evident he had not expected me to speak to him like this. It was fun to see the stoic Colonel flustered. 

“I came to ask you response. You never wrote back to me.” I shrugged, getting off the bench. “Response? I don’t remember ever being properly asked a question.” He sighed running a hand through his hair, a habit that I had missed while he was away. “I do recall asking-” “No, Colonel Han. You requested. You, sir, never asked me anything. So why should I dignify you with a response.” 

Maybe it was the smile, or the slight twinkle in my eye, but he laughed. A sound that I had never heard from the man. It made me want to memorize every sound and feature of his face when he laughed. “Then, should I ask you properly, Miss L/n?” It was a genuine question, not of simple jest. “There is no harm in questions.” He took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. 

“Miss L/n, will you please allow me the great honor of making you my wife?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes widened at my quick response. “I’m sorry Colonel, but I cannot promise to be any man’s wife who sits prettily in a corner and who is expected to obey every word he says. I won’t be expected to just sit around waiting for you-...him- to come home.” 

“Wherever you are is my home; my only home.”

There was sincerity in his eyes. Love. “Mr. Han,” He sighed taking my hands in his. Though his touch was still unfamiliar, it felt sure and safe. “Miss L/n, please let me speak.” He practically begged. I waited silent for him to continue.

“I am half in hope and half in agony. If your feelings are still what I assumed they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged but one word from you will silence me on the subject forever.” He searched my eyes for an answer. 

“Miss L/n, I am in love with you more than you will ever know. I want nothing more than to be with you. To wake up to every morning- to fall asleep next to you every night. To stand next to me, not behind me. I am in love with your wit, and your charm, and how you always keep me on my toes more than any battle ever has. I am in love with your modern values and your spontaneity.” Han’s hands were rough against mine, his slender fingers ghosting over my skin.

“Y/n...Will you marry me, and do me the honor of letting me be your husband?”

Han’s dark eyes looked into mine- indeed half in agony and half in hope. He looked at me as if everything in the world that mattered to him was standing in front of him. The look in his eyes couldn’t help but make me smile. I was in love with Colonel Han Jisung and it couldn’t be helped.

“Yes,”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” He asked. “Of course.” He smiled and looked down at his hands still gently holding mine. “May I?” He asked softly, glancing between my eyes and my lips. It only took a small nod for him to act, pressing his lips softly onto mine. My head begin to feel dizzy in the best way. His fingers traveled up the bare skin of my arms and then down to rest on my waist, bringing me closer. Han smiled as my hands pressed against his chest, kissing him back. 

“I love you, Jisung. With all my heart.”

“It took you long enough to say it, my darling.”

El Fin

Requests are open my lovelies!

Masterlist

[saxxxology]

a king’s duty

Sam likes a big family, and he’ll make sure it only keeps growing.

PAIRING: King!Alpha!Sam x Queen!Omega!Reader

WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics, smut

NOTE: Do not save or repost my work without my consent. 

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Sam takes his kingly duties seriously. He’s ruled over his kingdom for well over a decade, ever since his father and predecessor gifted he and his brother their own sections of land. Nothing in life could be better; his citizens are happy and prospering, his servants are preparing a festival and banquet for the Easter holiday, and Sam himself is planning to ensure that the holiday bears an announcement to celebrate the day’s purpose.

You and Sam have made a decent family already, six pups over the last nine years of your marriage, but he wants more. A large family means more heirs to carry both his lineage and the throne, and you’re more than happy to give him all the children he wants.

He’s been gone on a hunt with the kingsguard for several days, tracking a herd of deer through the dense forests. When you hear the bellowing of the horns and the commotion coming from the town below, you race to your bedroom window and peer down into the streets. Sam’s on his towering steed, shaggy-haired and dirty from his travels. It’s late in the afternoon, and you know that he’ll be starving for a properly cooked meal. 

Sam loves it when you prepare his suppers. Within weeks of becoming his bride you’d arranged for your own private kitchens to keep regularly stocked with the finest meats and vegetables. Even though Sam is a well-liked king, there are still those from faraway kingdoms who despise his rule and the risk of accidentally eating a poisoned meal, albeit slim, is too much for you to gamble with. Your children also only eat from your kitchens, after an incident with rancid chicken and a weekend spent cleaning sick bowls and tending fevers and chills placed the wellbeing of your offspring in your hands alone. 

“Mother, mother!” Elizabeth, your firstborn, clutches your skirts, tugging frantically. She’s got her father’s coppery hair and hazel eyes, as do all your children—the only one to have your hair color is Anne, your one-year-old daughter. “Father’s home!”

“I know.” You set a cutting board on the counter and crouch to pull her into your arms. “Go fetch your siblings and greet your father. I’ll have supper ready soon.”

Giggling, Elizabeth races from the room, shouting for her brothers and sisters in the hallway. She’s a rowdy seven-year-old, much louder and more boisterous than the others, and you’ve noticed that her behavior is starting to rub off on your other growing children. Jonathan, at five and a half, is nearing her height and the two often have to be pulled apart during tussels in the hallways over dolls and other toys they’ve found. Katherine and Alexander, your only pair of twins, are more subdued, preferring to draw with bits of charcoal on the stone floors. Mariah is the youngest of the group, and she’s still discovering where she fits in, much less how to talk properly without getting frustrated. Anne is nearing one, and still sleeps heavily in her bassinet between feeds and cuddles from her parents. 

A decent pack with almost too many mouths to feed. 

Sam enters the kitchens just when you’ve dropped meat in an iron skillet. He’s got Mariah in his arms, Jonathan on his shoulders, and the other four trailing close behind, bouncing on their feet. His beard has grown thick, and you welcome his kiss with a slight grimace as the stubble grazes your skin. He looks tired, and you sigh happily at his warm, musky (if slightly smelly) scent.

“I missed you,” he hums, setting the children down and kneeling to welcome them all into his arms. “And how are my beautiful pups?”

“Your children have been quite the handful since you’ve been gone,” you reply, giving Elizabeth and Jonathan stern looks. “These two got into quite the tussle in the gardens yesterday.”

“Over what?” Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Snail shells,” Jonathan pipes up, “we were collecting them and Elizabeth stole mine!”

“I did not!” Elizabeth interjects. “I’m just better at collecting them so I got more.”

“Enough,” you tap your wooden spatula on the side of your skillet, “no more fighting while your father’s home, run along and wash up for supper.” You watch your children scamper off, shaking your head. “Those two… always a competition.”

Sam chuckles and presses another firm kiss to your cheek. “They get it from me.”

“Oh, I know they do,” you chuckle, wrinkling your nose. “Sam, you know I love you, but you do smell… please go and have a quick bath. There’s even some lavender soap for you.”

He sighs happily. “Of course, my love. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Your children come running back after you’ve finished preparing their dinner. As usual, you examine their little pink fingers for dirt (you have to send Alexander to the washbasin in the corner for a second cleaning) and allow them to take their places at the table. They squabble briefly for chunks of bread before quieting down, and you wonder with a shake of your head why you want so badly to add yet another child to your ever-growing pack.

When Sam returns, the food is lined on the table, and he serves himself before allowing the children to dig into their own plates. Anna’s woken from her nap, and you seek a brief respite from the chatter to feed her in the quiet of her nursery. She feeds heavily, suckling at your breast with enthusiasm as your sweet milk fills her little belly. Your milk production is slowing, a sign that you’re almost ready to receive another pup in your womb. 

The children are just finishing their supper when you return, and you allow each child a small square of chocolate from the market for their dessert before sending them off to their rooms to prepare for bed. Sam waits at the table as you spoon a helping of potatoes, meat, and drop a slice of bread onto a plate and meet him at the table. 

“How are you, my love?” he asks, gazing fondly at you. 

“I’m well,” you reply, “tired, but well.”

He squeezes your hand, giving a supportive smile. It’s often that you need reassurance that you’re a good mother, and Sam never fails to give you the encouragement you need. “You’ve done wonderfully in my absence, as always. Our pups are growing strong.”

You accept his praise with a flush of heat. “I can only do my best. Elizabeth is growing more outspoken by the day.”

“And your best is more than perfect.” Sam lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingers. “Elizabeth is the eldest, and first in line. She’ll need to be outspoken when she takes the throne.”

You finish eating quickly and pile your dishes at the end of the table for the servants to clean. Sam helps you prepare warm milk and honey in small wooden cups and escorts you upstairs, to where your children are already tucked into their separate beds. After a drink, tuck in, and generous kisses from both you and Sam, they’re left to fall asleep. A quick check on Anna in her nursery proves that your babe is slumbering peacefully, and Sam pulls you into a deep, warm kiss over her bassinet.

Another day, another victory. 

In the safety of your private chambers, Sam helps you undress, pulling the ribbon from your bodice and lifting your dress up over your head and leaving you naked. His rumbling growl of arousal echoes in your ears as his hands skim over your sides, trailing around to cover the flat expanse of your belly. 

“I miss you being round,” he murmurs, “all big and swollen with our child…”

“I know you do.” You turn around stretching up on your toes to press your lips to his. His growing erection presses against your hip through his trousers, and he allows you to undress him slowly, teasing with soft skims of your fingers and warm kisses on his lips.

He lifts you onto the bed, kneeling forward until you can lie down with your head on one of the soft pillows. He kisses you hard, wedging his hips between your thighs. His weight is welcome on top of you, all warm and firm against your soft, pliant body. You’re already wet, and he uses that to his advantage.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers, “for days now�� filling you up, giving you another pup….”

He groans when you reach between your legs and grip him firmly, guiding him to your entrance. He takes the lead when he feels himself slip into the soft crevice of your folds, and you stifle a gasp against his shoulder when he surges in in a quick, gratifying thrust. You’re tight, clenching wet and hot around his shaft like the night he’d taken you as his bride. 

“Let me relax,” you urge him, a palm against his shoulder as you fight the discomfort. It’s easier to take him during your heats; for an Alpha, he’s incredibly well-endowed, and you’re a smaller than average Omega. 

You’d made a joke after you’d mated for the first time that if his lordship came down to purely the size of his manhood he could rule the world. 

Sam peppers your cheeks with gentle kisses and gently rocks his pelvis, urging your body to grow accustomed to his penetration. When you settle underneath him, heels digging into the backs of his thighs, he seals his lips over yours and gives a steady thrust. You clutch his arms, sighing through your nose at the hot, thick slide. He presses deeper, rocking his hips from side to side, and increases the intensity of his movements, making love firmly and passionately. Just the way you like. 

“Oh, God…” you tip your head back, baring your throat for him, and Sam latches on, grinding his hips heavily against yours as his teeth scrape over your sensitive skin and the faint traces of your claim mark at the base of your throat. He growls when you dig your nails into his ass, and he braces his palms on the mattress as he ruts heavily into you.

Sam watches your face contort in the candlelight, brows arching as your mouth stretches into a wide smile. He’s found your sweet spot, and he focuses his thrusts there, grunting and panting like an animal. 

“That’s my Omega,” he praises, kissing you deep and wet. “Oh, that’s it… I can feel you, honey love…”

He curls one hand into your hair, thrusting a little harder and faster as you begin to peak. Your body flushes hot, sweat making your skin slippery. You wrap your arms around his back, nails digging into his skin, and Sam swallows your cry of pleasure as you shudder and writhe underneath him with the force of your climax. Your thighs squeeze his waist, and he groans loudly, his knot beginning to swell. 

He shoves the girth of it into your cunt with a vicious thrust that has you squealing. Bursts of his seed fill your womb, warming your lower belly as his teeth scrape over your shoulder. He goes lax with a heavy sigh, shifting so that your knees ride higher on his ribcage.

“My beautiful Omega,” he whispers softly, trailing a thumb over your lips. “I love you so much.”

Your reply is stifled by a kiss that has you squirming underneath his weight. He rests his forehead on yours, steadying his breath with a long, slow sigh. “We’re going to have another pup,” you whisper.

“I know we are.” Sam growls possessively and carefully rolls you onto your side, keeping your hips level with his. “I’ll fill you with pups as long as you’ll have them.”

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[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Crossing Parallel Lines- Sam Winchester x Reader: Chapter 12

*TRIGGER WARNING: The following may be a trigger for anyone suffering from mental health. Please proceed with caution*

A/N: Wow, I can’t believe we are in chapter 12 now! I wanted to write more about the reader’s struggles with anxiety but I also wanted Dean, Jack and Cas to love on her too! So please, enjoy!

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of sexy times, BOOBS, breakdowns, crying, insecurities, cuddles from a big Moose

Word Count:  3,382

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Reader’s POV

Since Sam found out about your anxiety, he was a lot more attentive to you. Not so much where it would feel overbearing, but just enough to show you how much he cared and loved you. You still couldn’t believe he was lying next to you in your bed, after your joyous reunion the previous night. Laying on your side so you could look at him, you watch as he slept. His face would crinkle up when something must’ve frightened him in his sleep, his pink lips just barely apart from one another as a small snore left his lungs. The rise and fall of his chest fell into a soft pattern, up and down every few minutes. His long lashes resting gently on his face and his nose released built-up tension he was harboring as he breathed. Everything about him was flawless and it took your own breath away when you looked at him. Something about the way he was when he slept, made him look much smaller and a little less hard on the outside. You knew damn well about his life; the hardships he faces, all the battles with monsters and people over the years were beginning to catch up with him. However, at this moment, none of the bad things mattered. What mattered now, was that he got to be at peace, even if just for a little while, and he didn’t have to worry about what the next hunt or battle would entail. His worries now were you and your well-being. You had your own battles to fight and they had become too much for you to do on your own, so crossing over to your universe earlier than the original spell told you, Sam was here and he was with you. To fight those demons with you and to help you navigate all the new things you were learning about yourself. It wasn’t an easy process but Sam was committed to staying with you, and he promised you that, right before sleep overpowered both of you.

Keeping quiet, you moved closer to Sam, careful not to wake his sleeping form, so you could pepper his face with tiny kisses like he liked to do with you. You started from the top of his forehead, trailing a line down his nose, over to his cheeks and chin, slowly adding a few kisses to the softest part on his neck, the one you spent plenty of time on the night before, causing a low grumble to bubble up from his chest. You knew he was awake, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. Catching on to his little game, your trail moved down to the exposed parts of his chest, leaving behind the most intimate kisses you could, before you made your way back up to his lips. Almost instantly, he had fully woken up to kiss you back, deepening the kiss by rolling over you, surprising you by his sudden alertness.

“Well good morning, handsome,” you chuckle when he pulls away to look down at you.

He smiled down at you before speaking in his husky, morning voice, “good morning, beautiful.”

“Glad to see you’re finally awake,” you tease, knowing his little ploy.

“Well if I get woken up like that every morning, we might have to make these sleepovers a regular thing,” he smirked, eyes growing a shade darker.

“Not this morning, big boy, we got to get ready to head back to your world,” you smile, pecking at his lips before sliding away from under him.

“How the hell do you get away so easily?” He questions you as he collapses on the place you just were.

“Because I’m smaller than you, and you do pretty much turn to butter when I kiss you, so it’s easy,” you wink at him when you see the heat rising to his cheeks.

With all the events of last night, you and Sam had discussed crossing back over to his universe to see Dean and Castiel and Jack. Because Sam was in a panic over your state of mind and he was on the phone with Dean until he saw you, he knew he wanted to see you and show his support for your new journey as you learn more about yourself. Dean always saw you as his little sister and that grew stronger the more you stuck around and came to see Sam. He absolutely loved you with all his heart and he was incredibly grateful to you for loving his little brother the way you do. All he wanted for Sam was to have any shot of that ‘apple pie life’ the two of them always discussed in this life, but he was okay with not having it himself. He thought Sam deserved it more than he did, yet there was still a part of him that longed to be loved by someone like Sam was loved by you. He didn’t hold any jealousy or ill-will against you; he was so happy for you two, but he still wanted that for himself. Although, he was excited to have a younger sister, and that’s exactly how he made you feel from the very beginning. He took you under his wing and it was him, who constantly badgered Sam into accepting you as a part of their family. It was ironic to you that Sam, who had originally despised you, ended up loving you. But Dean always held a special place for you in his heart.

“Sam?” You say, walking out of your bathroom and back into your room where you had left him to pack up.

“Yeah?” He responds, keeping busy with his task at hand.

“What if things are different with Dean and Cas and Jack now?” You say, pressing on the palm of one of your hands; something Sam would do when he was nervous. He stopped what he was doing, no longer worrying about the clothes he was folding into a suitcase, and patted the bed beside him, so you could sit.

“What do you mean?” He asks, his concerned, puppy-dog look soon etching across his beautiful features.

“What if Dean doesn’t like who I am now that I have anxiety? What if he thinks I’ve become super clingy to you and him? What if he thinks I’m too emotional?” You list off your insecurities to Sam, who just takes your face in his hands, forcing you to look up at him.

“Y/N, he loves you and he’s worried about you. He began to panic when I first told him something was wrong with you. He didn’t care that I turned off the porn he was watching that morning, and he always gets angry about that! You’re like his little sister and he adores you as such. He was the first one who had accepted you into our family even before I did. That has to mean something to you, right? Yeah, I’m sure it’s going to be a shock to him, seeing just how easy it is for you to get upset over things now, but he really cares about you and wants to do whatever he can to help you. And Jack and Cas don’t really know about mental health but they both really care about you too and want to help, too. Everyone is on your side here, y/n and we all love you so much. You’re a Winchester now and you will be treated as such. Winchesters love more than we really realize we do but we do and we wouldn’t have you any other way, okay? I wouldn’t have you any other way. You are absolutely perfect in my eyes, even if you don’t think you are. You show me a different way to look at life every day, you laugh at just about anything, and you don’t care about letting people in when you’re not okay. I wish I could be like you in those ways, but I’m learning from you. You teach me how to let my feelings out and you show me just how important it is to cope healthily. I love you so much,” Sam finished his speech and you couldn’t believe just how much he really loved you.

“Sam, everything you just said, really helps me put into perspective of how important I am and how much I matter to you. I need reinforcing like this more often and it may take a few times for me to believe it, but I’m trying. As for Dean, I love him so much, too. He’s the best big brother I could ever ask for and I am grateful for him being there for me that first day. And you, my love,” you reach up to rest your hand on Sam’s cheek and he held it there, “are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I can’t fathom the love you have for me but I am lucky to be loved by you and I hope you feel how I love you too, Sam Winchester.” He smiled his wide smile that reached his eyes before he leaned down to kiss your lips.

“Alright if we don’t get back to getting ready, we’ll never leave,” he says after letting you go.

“Would that be so bad?” You say, hinting at maybe staying home with Sam wouldn’t be bad.

“Babe, I would love nothing more than to stay in bed with you all day long and to show you just how much I love you, relive the events of last night, but I promised Dean we’d be back at the Bunker tonight, for a surprise he has planned for you,” Sam said, holding one of your hands close to his heart.

“A surprise for me?” You ask your excitement reaching a new level. “What is it?”

“Oh no, I can’t tell you or it’ll ruin the surprise. You’re just going to have to wait,” Sam said, kissing the end of your nose, causing you to scrunch up from where his lips just were. He was heading out the door with your suitcase in tow, but your question stopped him.

“But you’ll make it up to me when we get there right? Cause I really need you and I might just not be wearing anything once I settle into my room,” you tease, causing Sam to spin around to look at you. You had lifted one side of your shirt up, to show him one breast freshly exposed, causing the bag in his hand, to suddenly drop to the floor. You had a little smirk playing at your lips and your eyes held him until he was beside you in an instant. He stood just mere inches from you, looking down at you as you proceeded to completely disregard your shirt, now fully exposed to him.

“Guess I should call Dean and tell him we’ll be a little late,” he said, bending down to wrap an arm around your waist and lifting you over his shoulder. You squeal at the sudden impact but enjoyed the moment anyway.

A few hours passed and you were in front of the Bunker. The butterflies that had erupted in your stomach when you left your house, had completely taken full flight now. The words Sam spoke to you before your journey and the feeling of his large yet protective hand in yours, was giving you a sense of calm that you were rather grateful for.

“You ready?” He asked, looking over to you, and squeezing your hand reassuringly. You nodded once and squeezed his hand back. You were nervous, yes, but you knew you were loved, especially after the morning you had with Sam. However, this was different; this was his brother and his friends. How were they going to react? Sam took his keys out of his pocket and fumbled with them until he found the one golden one for the door. As the doorknob twisted open, your stomach twisted with anticipation.

As the door opened, there were a series of loud noises coming from the kitchen and the War Room. Sounds of things falling to the ground, clanking of dishes, and several foul words falling from someone’s mouth. You looked to Sam, who only gave a shy smile, knowing of the culprit of the noise, but that made you more nervous. What kind of mood was Dean in if he was already using a long list of profanities?

“Hello? We’re here, Dean?” Sam’s loud voice carried down the stairs and throughout the Bunker before drawing the young Nephilim out from the hallway of bedrooms.

“Hello!” Jack said, raising a hand as he did, to show his greeting of whomever he came in contact with.

“Jack, hey buddy,” Sam said, going over to hug the youngest member of the Winchester family, aside from you.

“And y/n, you’re back!” Jack said, eyes beaming with excitement as he embraced you with a loving hug. “We’ve missed you around here,” Jack says, looking at you with a beautiful look of wonder.

“I’ve missed being here,” you say, taking in your surroundings of the old, slightly crumbling walls of the Bunker. The stories they must be able to tell of all the men who have lived there in decades past, kept your attention until another voice brought you back.

“Yes, it has been rather lonely and unusual without a feminine perspective on things,” Castiel said, appearing in the room on the opposite side from where Jack stood.

“Cas!” You say happily walking over to the angel and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’ve missed you,” you say, your voice breaking as you took in the scent of the human form Cas took on.

“And I, you, y/n. How are you doing? Sam says you’ve been struggling lately?” He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly and eyes squinting to look at you.

“I’m okay, I’m just learning how to handle something I don’t really understand yet. I hope that makes sense,” you say to the angel, whose face melted back into his normal look of worry. Much like Sam, Castiel could worry rather easily but it always warmed your heart at their affection from you.

“Well, I may not know what is going on with you, but I’d like to be of assistance however I can. Your happiness is very important to all of us, especially Sam,” you look up at your boyfriend as he tried to hide the pink on his cheeks.  

“Well judging by the color on Sammy’s cheeks, I would say y/n was here,” came a very distinct voice behind you; Dean.

You slowly turned to look at him, seeing him lean against the wall, and a small grin on his lips.

“Hey kiddo,” he says before you crash into him in a tight hug. You couldn’t help the tears that had poured out from eyes so you tried to squeeze them away, hoping Dean wouldn’t notice or make any comments about it. His hand rubbed up and down your back as you gripped him tighter, not wanting to let go of the special bond you held with the eldest Winchester. However, he felt the shudder come from your body as the tears only increased, so he took a step back to look at you.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” He asks, wiping the wetness away from your face but was quickly met with more tears.

“Sam!” Dean cried to his younger brother and he immediately came to your side.

“Hey, hey, hey, what happened, baby?” Sam says in a smooth tone of voice, wrapping you in his arms.

“I-I’m jus-just hap-happy to be here wi-with everyone,” you say in between sniffles and hiccups from your small break down.

“Oh baby,” Sam said, kissing the top of your head.

“Why don’t you two take a moment and then when you’re ready, we’ll be ready with the surprise, alright?” Dean said to you and Sam, as he continued to rub your back, despite Sam still holding you.

“Actually, that might be a good idea. Come on y/n, let’s go lay down for a bit and we’ll talk, okay?” Sam said, tilting his head down a bit so he could look at you from behind your hands, and gently pulling them away from your face. You nodded but kept your head down, not wanting to look at anyone and definitely not wanting to look at Dean. You held him at a higher standard than you probably should, but you couldn’t help it. He was tough and wasn’t the easiest one to let anyone close to him, so now that you are to him, you wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the closeness that you had with him.

Sam led you back to his room, sitting down close to you on the bed, and held you tight. You felt like you didn’t need to cry anymore but you did just need to be held. So, kicking his shoes off his feet, Sam crawled under a few blankets that he had lying on his bed and wrapped you up in the blankets and his arms. He brought you flush against his body, making sure you were comfortable while keeping you close. You felt relaxed as you melted right into his chest, inhaling his natural scent of whiskey and a fresh clean shower. Taking slow, deep breaths in and out, as you felt your heartbeat slowing down to a normal rate. This was the kind of affection you needed and Sam was the best person to give it to you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, slightly pushing away from you to take you in.

“Honestly, the only thing is, I’m just really overwhelmed by all your love and support and then your brother and your friends are just as supportive? It’s a lot but in a good way. I’m not sad, just in a bit of shock is all,” you admitted as Sam just smiled at you and kissed your face.

“Are you ready to see what Dean has planned for you?” Sam asked, showing you his child-like cheekiness, even for a moment.

“Yes!” You cheered, suddenly jumping up from the bed. He smiled at you and quickly got up to follow you back out into the War Room.

“Ah, there you two lovebirds are,” Dean teased, seeing the two of you holding hands as you walked into the room, heat rising to your cheeks as Sam squeezed your hand.

“All ready, Dean?” Sam asked, wanting to kill the embarrassed both you and he felt about your small display of affection.

“Yep, y/n, come with me,” Dean said, leading the way into his ‘cave.’ Opening the door, there was a spread of freshly made burgers, all the toppings you could imagine, all of your favorite snacks and drinks but a good mix of theirs too. Dean worked really hard to welcome you back to the Bunker and he wanted you to feel completely comfortable like this was your second home.

“Wow, thank you so much, Dean. All this food looks delicious!” You say, beaming with happiness.

“Hey, anything for my little sister,” he says, hugging you quickly before you all began to eat. And on top of all that, Dean eve let you choose what movie to watch while you ate. Excitedly, you chose the first Captain America film, one that Jack or Castiel haven’t seen. Who doesn’t like a good superhero movie?

After dinner, Sam and you shared a blanket and he kept you close as the movie progressed. He played with your fingers, running his up and down your arm. Your heart was warmed as you felt his love pouring out from his fingers, just a small act of affection meant the world to you. This is where you felt the most comfortable, being surrounded by people who genuinely cared about you. And, with someone who loved you more than you could fathom, suddenly your insecurities and your anxiety, didn’t seem so significant. Maybe being with the Winchesters all the time, could be the best thing for you.

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[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Broken Families (Favored Ones, Part 16.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Part summary: Abby stayed true to what she said. She made you scream in pain that day.

A/N: So, Abby is here. And she’s here to play some golf, y’know. She likes iron clubs better than iron ones and... Just kidding, Owen and Tommy are about to play a game.

Warning: Gore, blood, some torturing, Abby; Tommy and Owen playing golf. 

Word count: 4.2 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @peakymarvels​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Another steel nail under your nail. How many of them were already there? Twenty? Thirty? Jesus, it was hard to count at that point. Especially, when you had a problem to even breathe or to see what was happening around you. The woman didn't lie. As soon as she told Tommy what she wants to do with you, she started with it. Her comrades took the jacket, gloves, and pants off of you, no matter how hard you tried to fight back, taping you to the chair with silver duck tape.

First, she was punching your stomach while the man named Owen held the chair, so you wouldn't fall on your back as he told you some nasty things. When your stomach was fucked up enough for you to spill blood, she moved to punch your face. Yeah, you couldn't see with one eye and your nose surely broken at one point, since the blood was all over your breasts. Or was it the one you spat? Jesus, it was so hard to tell.

Then, to keep you breathing and full of consciousness, they brought nails and a small hammed, and oh boy, that was where the fun started. You didn't scream until that point, but now, every inch of the nail digging into your meat was followed by a high-pitched cry. You were trying to wiggle out of the chair, but Owen was leaning into it with his full weight. It appeared as if it made Abby happy to see you scream in pain, crying, and bleeding. Either she was happy or she barely notices. Both of the options were equally probable.

Abby was trying to break Tommy down. It wasn't about you, no, you were just Abby's plaything. One of you had to know Joel and sooner or later, one of you had to spill the truth. They chose to torture you since you were the smaller, more fragile one. It must've been so hard for a man to see a woman he cared about getting hurt without having a chance to help you. Well, he had a chance, but he didn't.

They handcuffed Tommy, so he would sit in front of you, and they taped his head to the wood, so he couldn't see anything but you.

Yet, for how fragile you might've seen at the beginning when Abby was choking you, you haven't said a word. Which was surprising for both of you. You wouldn't suspect you could have so much willpower inside of you. You were looking at Tommy, your look alone was telling him not to say a word. Where, for the love of God, was the girl who almost broke down when Harry was killed by the infected?

Everything about your posture was telling Tommy that you'll make it. You could take in a lot, right? You were a survivor, it wasn't too wise to fuck around with you or your family. If they killed you? You were madly in love, you didn't honestly care. As long as Joel was away from that place, you could take it somehow. Sooner or later, Ellie, Dina, Maria, or Jesse had to show up to look for you.

"Why the fuck are you still smiling, huh? Puta." - The Hispanic man tugged your scalp harshly, spitting in your face. You could barely feel the warmth of the spit since you had dry blood everywhere.

"Maybe you took a mentally ill one, Abs. Maybe she just doesn't know." - Owen mumbled from smoking a cigarette. The short-haired woman asking you about your well-being left what seemed hours ago after she almost threw up. Whoever she was, she didn't seem to take the sight too well, which made her different than Abby and Owen. These two were fucking psychopaths. You were smiling for the last half of the hour, yeah. Because you knew that once Joel will get to know about this, Abby is done. You didn't know what he'll do to her, yet you know she won't be smiling after he'll be done with her. Also, there wasn't enough oxygen in your brain anymore, so you maybe were starting to get delusional.

"It's taking too long, we've been here for hours. We need to leave this fucking place before the people in town notice they're missing." - A woman of color said, looking Abby in the face. The woman seemed to be shaken with the scenery as well. - "Finish this fucking mess, I can't look at it anymore." - She spat in the tall lady's face, leaving the room.

In the begging, Tommy was begging them to stop. He was pleading for the love of God for them to let you be. They should do all of this to him, not to you. But he was silent for hours now.

Abby was looking at you for a small moment, having an unreadable expression on her face. She was thinking about what Nora had just told her. The woman was right, probably. This was taking way too long. Whether you were a damn psycho or you didn't know any Joel Miller, she didn't care - she took a knife from the counter, pushing it right above your knee. The pressure was quite painful.

This action made you open up your mouth while a horrible scream came out, as you held the chair with your palms. The woman kneeled beside you, steadying herself to turn the knife inside the meat of your thigh. The blood was dripping around as she motioned the Hispanic man to drag Tommy away to show him some manners. Manny knew where Abby had her golf club packed and she knew that Owen will gladly show Tommy some of his favorite tees.

Your screams slowly stopped, since your vocal cords were too tired to make such a sound. - "I told you I don't want to kill you. You're innocent. I'm after someone else. Don't you understand?" - Abby mumbled and started to turn the knife around, making you almost faint at one moment. - "If you won't stop dodging the answer, I will pop your knee off."

"Why don't you tell me, where is Joel Miller? I'll let you go, I swear. Me or my friends won't come after you or your friends. That's a promise." - She stopped, holding the chair in place with her hand. Abby knew what she was doing. If she'd turn the knife around too fast or if she wouldn't stop for a small moment, she'd make you numb to the pain. And the last thing she needed was to let you lose your consciousness. Her eyes widened when a whisper came out of your lips.

"What? What did you just say?" - She mumbled frantically, looking at your destroyed face. It was horrifying to see you like that.

"I was saying..." - You coughed, looking away from her to spit another blood out of your mouth. - "That he'll fuck you up once he gets to know who you are and what you've done. You're a walking dead man." - And you carried on laughing. Who the fuck were you? How could you even develop enough capacity to say such things? With that, Abby shook her head, tears appearing in her eyes, and pushed the knife deeper, just behind your knee, twisting it with hatred in her face. You were screaming like a fucking animal. Just when she was about to slice your throat like a pig's, Melanie's scream stopped her.

"Someone's inside the house! Move it, run!" - Owen yelled over the building. Without second thoughts, she threw the knife away, picked her stuff, and ran into the woods through the big windows, leaving you exposed to the ice-cold air.

A few hours ago, Jackson:

Maria was getting worried. You left early in the morning. It was already six o'clock in the evening and you were nowhere to be found. Ellie, Dina, and Jesse had already got back from the patrols just as the other did. Where did you two got stuck? When others found out you're missing, they immediately called everyone to a meeting. Yet no-one had the slightest idea where you were at the time.

"I told you I saw lights in the fucking house. What if they're there?" - Ellie asked with hatred, pointing her finger on the map. Dina was kissing her shoulder, trying to calm her down, but it wasn't helping much. Tommy was her fucking uncle and you were her best friend.

"Why would they go in there? It's completely out of the way for them." - Jesse asked back. Yeah, there was something fishy going on. If one of you'd die during the hunt, one of you'd be already back. If you'd got lost, he knew that Tommy would find the way back.

Ten patrols searched through the surroundings of Jackson, coming back empty-handed. The house was the only reasonable location.

"Maybe one of them got hurt? They would never leave the other somewhere out there if one of them bleeding or something like that." - Dina asked silently, trying to calm them down. Ellie took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. After a while, she moved from the desk, looking at her friends. - "I'll tell Joel that we'll be going on a patrol to search through the house. Maybe the old man will want to join us? It's his brother and his girl, in the end, we're talking about."

"That's a good plan, yeah." - Jesse agreed, watching as she left the room. Ellie was not having a good feeling about you and Tommy just disappearing one morning. She was with both of you on a patrol multiple times and neither of you hasn't done anything like that before. It was like a magic trick - you disappeared in the thin air. She ran up to Joel's house to be there as soon as possible - the longer they would hesitate, the longer was the probability you'd be found dead. The old man opened up the door within a minute after she knocked the first time.

"Hey, hey." - He mumbled, putting his palm on Ellie's shoulder. She looked weirdly off to him. He had a free day thanks to you, but it was making him worried you weren't back just yet. It was maybe the morning blizzard or the fact that most likely, you needed to maneuver a lot around the horde to lower their numbers. But this was making him think that just maybe, you weren't hiding from the weather after all. - "You good? Did somethin' happened, kiddo?"

Joel was getting into his more worried and protective mood within seconds. Ellie nodded and motioned for him to come inside so he could at least sit when she'll tell him. - "Is it somethin' about you and Dina? Did Tommy do some bullshit? You know you can tell me." - The man looked into her face, offering her at least a glass of water.

"More or less. It's about both Y/N and Tommy." - She mumbled, looking the tip of her boots. Jesus, Ellie was tired as a dog. The hangover was terrible, she could barely hold her eyes open, her body was hurting and she only had a few hours of sleep. Joel was confused, yet his expression was telling Ellie that he's not making too much out of it. - "She told me that they're goin' on a patrol because of some infected. I think they just got a bit stuck there."

His small girl nodded at that, thinking about the best way to tell him. After she took another sip of the water, making herself just tell all of it to Joel. - "We searched the place, we haven't found neither them nor the horde. They are MIA a the moment." - At that, Joel stopped making a joke out of the situation. It wasn't the weather, but the infected. Were you two even alive? Were you all alright?

"The last place were looking into is the house an hour away from Jackson. You know which one I mean. Are you coming with us?" - And this question Joel needed to hear. Of course, he was about to search for both of you. It wasn't likely that you'd split, even if something happened. Tommy surely kept you by his side the whole time, making sure you're all right. Finding Tommy meant that they'd find you both.  

Everyone gathered at the stables in the next ten minutes - there was Ellie and Dina, Jesse, Joel, Maria, and Diego, everyone ready for any inconvenience to come. During their journey to the house in the mountains, everyone was awfully quiet. Everyone had their ears ready to hear for any kind of strange noise, but none had come. The first sign of someone coming through were dad bodies put on fire laying at the gate. These were infected - which meant that normal people are inside the guarded building. Yet there was nowhere to be seen.

"This isn't our technology." - Jesse said after looking at the bodies. - "I would recognize her handwork everywhere. She hadn't made this and Tommy doesn't know how this works. Someone we don't know is in there and we don't know if they're friendly or not yet." - The young boy stood up and looked at everyone.

"Then we should leave horses here and try to get into the building unnoticed. If they're friendly, they won't hurt us when they find us sneaking around, right?" - Ellie asked everyone and they needed to say that this is a reasonable plan. The people divided into two groups - one consisting or Maria, Joel, and Ellie, the other one having Dina, Jesse, and Diego in it. They were ready to roll.

It was taking quite a long time before the two groups met at the back of the house where a window was opened - which, in translation, was the only way leading inside the house. To get there without making too much noise was kind of fun, but in the end, everyone got there safe and sound. It was just when Ellie and Dina were slowly opening the window when the first screams filled the air. It sounded awfully like a young woman's accompanied by dull loud noises coming from downstairs.

"Okay, let's calm down first. We need a plan," - Ellie whispered before she leaned her shoulder to Joel's chest to stop him from just running there, killing everyone in an instance and probably getting himself killed as well. - "You are going to calm down first. We need to be careful here."

"And listen to her gettin' killed any moment? No." - Joel answered back immediately, just to have Maria's hand on his shoulder too.

"Ellie is right. This house is huge, there's probably ten to twenty of the people and we have two people to loose here. I'll stay with Joel, makin' sure he'll behave. Ellie's coming with us. Jesse, you're taking the right side of the house, were heading right? If you find something you won't do on your own, the first thing you do is to yell at us. It will probably make them realize were here, but that can scare these fucks off." - Maria put an end to the argument, making everyone calm down immediately.

Jesse looked at his group nervously. Dina was excellent in silent killing, while he and Diego were more of the fistfight and gun guys. But they were about to make it. Just as Maria told them, their ways parted.

They tried to be as careful and as quiet as possible. Every moment built up the tension inside of Jesse, he had the feeling that each of their steps is as loud as a thunder. Which wasn't a comfortable feeling at all? The left side of the house was emptied - the rooms were empty, there was no kind of civilization in sight. It was when they arrived at the stairs when Dina noticed heavy footsteps walking up. Her nails dag up to Jesse's arm as she motioned on her arm. Jesse closed his eyes, listening to the surroundings, nodding at Dina in the end as everyone his behind the walls to take cover.

Dina did her best to quietly put the suspenser on her gun, making sure that her knife is ready for any case. When she was sure, she leaned her back to the wall, taking in a deep breath as she stood up. When the guy walked in, he didn't look around and behind the walls - he was just patrolling. It was this weird, disgusting dude with a baseball cap, whistling a song as he walked forward. Dina jumped on his back, covering his mouth and shooting a bullet right into the man's brain. His body relaxed in a second as the life left it, his back falling on Dina's chest. She huffed a bit, slowly laying the man down.

"Ever told you you're fucking good at this?" - Jesse looked at his ex-girlfriend, now covered in blood, who just grinned back as they quietly made their way through the halls and corridors. The dark-haired girl smirked at what Jesse had to say, shaking her head. - "Focus, 'kay?" - She whispered, but suddenly, as they were about to enter some white door, they heard some person yelling.

"Someone's inside the house! Move it, run!" - Each of them stopped in the middle of what they were doing, hoping that any of the running people won't meet them. But it had to happen, hadn't it? It was a short-haired, small, fragile woman who had her eyes red with tears. As soon as she realized she doesn't know any of the young people and Dina pointed her gun at her, she rose her palm in the air. For a moment, they were staring at each other before the woman turned around and ran in the opposite direction.

"Why didn't you shoot her down? She can alert the others."- Diego whispered into Dina's ear angrily, but when he was about to chase after the woman, Jesse's hand stopped the boy. - "She was scared. Did you see the look on her face? Maybe something real bad happened here." - Dina told to Diego, turning around to open up the white door.

All of them stopped and looked into the room, thinking that they may be dreaming. Dina knew she knows the person dressed only in their top, with a knife sticking out of their thigh. It was a girl... Dina suspected, but it was hard to tell honestly. There was blood everywhere, small nails and a hammer laying on the ground, the window was open and the snow was now falling in, making the person freeze.

"Joining the party? About fucking time. Sadly, you missed the main program." - The person told them, coughing some blood, spitting it on the ground. Jesse's face stiffed in horror as he realized who's he looking at. It was you. Their best friend. The girl who wore the worst cowboy shoes ever to every dance there was in Jackson. The boy ran to you, quickly, looking at what they had done to you. There were tears in his ears when he looked at the hematomas on your stomach, seeing the swelling part of your face. - " I didn't tell them, I didn't say a word, Jesse, I..." - That was all you were repeating the whole time Dina and Jesse were strangling your thigh and preparing pieces of cloth to cover the wound. The girl sighed and nodded at Jesse, who gently turned your face at him. - "I know you didn't say them a word, you've done so well, come on, stay with me, look at me, that's it, that's it." - The boy whispered as Dina gently pulled the knife out of your thigh, making sure she won't do you more harm. But the screaming filling the room was terrifying. Jesse, even if he didn't want to hurt you more, pressed his finger into your cheek to keep you from looking on your leg as Dina put gazes around it with swift movements.

Diego was checking for clues of who they've might be, but these people didn't leave anything behind. That was nothing. No badges, maps, instructions... What were they after? You did know by the looks of it, but it wasn't probable that you'll talk in the following few days, maybe even week. And where was Tommy? There was an opened door leading to the garage, which they also opened as they ran away, and Tommy's horses was somewhere there as well. And they were about to get to know as Ellie ran into the cellar after them, opening the white door with a loud bang. - "We had... Found... Tommy." - She said slowly, looking at her friends taking care of the hurt person.

It took her a whole to recognize your face, but when she did, she helped Dina with making you stand up and put your clothes back on you. The rage was stronger and stronger within her. If you and Tommy wouldn't be in such a bad state, she would go after the duckers immediately until she'd chase them down. Joel couldn't talk when they found his brother.

He was laying in front of a fireplace with his hands duck taped behind his back, beaten up like a dog.  He was still alive, for now, but... You were looking good in comparison to Tommy. Someone brutally beat up Tommy with a metal golf club, almost beating his skull open. The people who did this to you had been stopped in the last moment - there was a small stand of blood on your neck, telling them that the person wanted to slice your throat. And Tommy, he was still breathing, but his skull was almost cracked open. The girl was shaking and crying when Dina started to nurse you as you kept on repeating them that you didn't tell them, whatever you were talking about.

Jesse took Ellie's face to his palms, looking her inside the eyes. - "Tommy, is he alive?" - Jesse asked, but the reality around Ellie was blurry. Her heart was aching with every small move it made, she couldn't take in one deep breath. - "Hey. Is Tommy alive?" - Jessie tried to ask again, but Dina knew she wouldn't answer. The process that Ellie was going through was undescribable - there was this mix of anger, fear, and hatred inside of her, so it would be better to let Ellie be for the moment. - "Jesse, help me get Y/N on Sadie. We need to ride back to Jackson, she won't make it otherwise." - Dina begged Jesse. She knew she can ride you back on her own - they'll have a harder time figuring out how to help Tommy... If he wasn't beyond saving at the moment.

Jesse left Ellie with Diego, helping you into the saddle. The screams were horrifying and he was sure that Maria is holding Joel back from running directly to the garage. But neither of them tried to stop you from screaming, it would be meaningless. As soon as you both sat on Sadie, Dina rode to the snow and Jackson, knowing shes running out of time. - "I didn't tell her, no, no, she doesn't know, I swear, I didn't." - You were still whispering, but soon, Dina felt the weight of your back on her chest. She didn't know if you'd have just passed out or dead, but she couldn't stop the tears from falling off of her eyes either way.

The ride was almost endless, but just when the light was disappearing, the gates finally showed up just a while from where you were. Saide was getting more nervous and tired - Dina was making her go the whole the time, not stopping for a single second and the journey was quite long. There was the danger of both of you being thrown down off of the horseback any minute. It was refreshing to see the gates opening as you rode in. People were calling out to Dina, they were trying to ask about what happened, but the girl was just shaking her head, riding directly to the hospital.

"Bobby, call Bobby!" - Dina yelled on the way. By the time you arrived there, almost everyone was ready to help, not knowing what happened. But Bobby's eyes widened as soon as she saw you. - "Bring her in, the second floor. I'll need to check her to see what's going on." - "Are those nails?" - Nancy asked when she rose one of your palms to the level of her eyes. When she saw the state of your fingers, she quickly turned around and puked to the nearby snow. Dina got off Sadie, walking straight to Bobby.

"Just don't let her die, 'kay?" - The girl whispered with her voice broken, getting a hug from the old lady. After that, Bobby disappeared to the house and started to take off your clothes, looking at everything these fucks had done to you.

[corvidshipping]

here’s uhhh the excerpt from A Pair of Sorrows i wrote. keep in mind

this has spoilers for Dead Things and A Pair of Sorrows

it’s pretty late in the story too so it has like… major ish spoilers in it

it’s not finished and it might change significantly considering this is a late scene in the last story and it’s written extremely out of order

content warnings: description of dissociation, discussion of a fight (non graphic), description of a received injury (non graphic although the specific injury is stated), mentions of fire, mentions of guns

this is a j.es.per x bryn fic. my city now

“I immolated a man today.”

It was the first time Bryn had spoken that day. Their voice was hoarse and quiet from disuse. For the past several hours, they had sat silently in the sitting room, staring at the wallpaper, trying to make sense of the abstract florals, and at the same time, trying to make sense of the abstract events of their life that had led up to this moment.

Jesper, across the room, looked up. “I know, I was there. I saw. You looked incredible.” His tone was lighthearted, something that Bryn just couldn’t understand in light of what had happened.

He was cleaning his guns, where he stood by the window, for the fourth time that day. At some point, in the afternoon (Bryn only knew it was afternoon from the yellow light pouring in), he had walked into the room that they had stationed themself in alone early that morning, settled himself into a chair, and begun disassembling one of his guns, all without a word. He’d been at it nonstop ever since, switching between them every so often, and it had been so long that the sun was nearly below the horizon and Bryn was beginning to suspect that it was more of a nervous habit, a need to keep his hands busy and working, than that Jesper’s perfect guns were truly that dirty from firing one round.

Bryn simply stared at him as he continued fiddling with some mechanism, wiping it with a handkerchief that kept coming away as clean as if it had been freshly washed, until he finally looked up to meet their gaze. It was a blank stare, as if though they were looking at him they weren’t truly seeing him - and perhaps they didn’t, perhaps their mind was elsewhere, far away, and their ears were filled with the ring of twin gunshots right after each other, and their ribs were filled with the bruising and breaking pain of a bullet, and their vision saw no friend but was filled with blaze and smoke, and it all blurred together as a cocktail of misery to make it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to feel. Maybe they just saw through him to the wallpaper behind, once again picking apart the flowers the way a small child picks apart a daisy. If a gaze could have weight, this one would have weighed on Jesper like two tons of iron and like nothing at all; if a gaze could have a feeling, this one would have felt like a shard of ice working through his heart, filling his lungs. He supposed the way to describe it was a bit haunting.

Bryn was brought back to the world with the sound of Jesper’s deep sigh, his footsteps crossing the wood floors. The sound of his boots was familiar - it almost passed for comforting. The couch beside them shifted with his added weight.

Jesper - the first one to trust them, the first one to tell them his name, the first person since Czarina to look them in the eyes and call them pretty, the first person since their sisters to look them in the eyes and call them beautiful. He sat, quietly, beside them, offering no words, nothing save his presence. But his presence, for Bryn at least, was enough. In one hand, he flipped his revolver over and over, as if examining every inch for imperfections, but the other arm he reached out, encircling his compatriot. Bryn allowed themself to be pulled in, wordlessly leaning into his body, and laid their head on his shoulder, nestling into his warmth.

An odd memory interrupted the smell of smoke and gunpowder, instead occurring to Bryn the smell of sunshine on fur and warm breath. It was the memory of Freyja, the tomcat they had raised since kittenhood, when they found him shivering at their window as if he had arrived exactly where he meant to be and was waiting for them to show up. Though it had only been months, it felt like lifetimes had passed since they left Freyja behind at their sisters’ farm, and not a day had passed since they missed hearing his meows waking them, demanding food and attention as soon as the sun rose. Freyja, among all the cats that they had rescued, was different, special. It wasn’t that they didn’t love the other cats, they had wept for so many both in joy and in sorrow, but Freyja was simply different. Holding the other cats, of course, awakened a protectiveness, a parental urge to protect them as if they were their own child. But when they held Freyja, though he was no human, it wasn’t just the protectiveness they felt - they felt protected, they felt as if he understood them, even if he couldn’t communicate it. As if, when they looked into tawny eyes and spoke, he knew their troubles, and they felt somehow secure that he would guard them against anything, at any cost.

Vaguely, from somewhere outside this microcosm of memory that Bryn had retreated to, a thought passed through their mind that the man next to them smelled unexpectedly nice. With as many bullets as he had fired since they met, they had always expected that if they were to approach this close they would smell simply gunshot residue, acrid nitroglycerin and powder clinging to his clothing. But instead, it was a pleasant, subtle scent, like amber, no trace of gunpowder to be found. Underneath, the smell of clean linen and silk, evidence of how carefully he kept his clothing.

And he was warm. Of course he was warm, since he was a living body. But it was an odd feeling for them, to be so enveloped in another person's warmth. At the inn, they had been very affectionate to their sisters, but it had been some time since they had seen them, and they had grown used to a certain distance from their compatriots. Kaz wasn’t the type to freely offer a hug when a friend seemed down - though the thought of an open-armed Kaz equipped with an unsettlingly warm smile was somehow amusing - and so they became accustomed to their only touch from another person being when Inej, infrequently, would place her hand over theirs gently, comfortingly, or when Jesper would clap his hand on their shoulder when he made a joke. This touch was different, nearly overwhelming in comparison.

Slowly, Bryn was drawn out of their thoughts as they considered these scents and feelings, and their perspective shifted; until now it had felt like they were simply watching themself, a facsimile of a facsimile, as they experienced this. But Jesper’s touch - his warmth - the faint smell of his shaving soap that clung to his collar - began to feel more and more real. Bryn became aware of more they hadn’t noticed, the softness of the shirt he wore as it hung loosely from his frame and brushed their side, a sort of… nuzzling feeling at their head. Jesper had buried half his face by now into their hair, as if he were trying to hide himself in a copper forest. It began to occur to Bryn, then, that maybe this wasn’t just for them. Maybe he needed this as much as they did. They wondered if he, too, had been watching his hands move from behind and above himself, if he had spoken to the others as if he were reading from a book, if the smell of the powder in his bullets had also reminded him incessantly of the wheezing, breathless sound a person makes when a bullet makes contact with something hard in their breast pocket instead of their heart.

Bryn started to realize, then, why that thought of Freyja, how protected they felt by just their gaze, had been brought up.

They squeezed their eyes shut, and turned their head, allowing their face to fall in the crook of Jesper’s shoulder. His hand moved from their shoulder to their head, deft fingers combing through the strands, and a smaller hand found its way to his opposite hand. In one movement, he had flipped the unloaded chamber back into the gun he held, and placed it onto the table at his side, before returning the hand that had held the gun to find the hand which had been offered to him. Slender fingers inched into his palm, until he caught them in his own fingers and wove them between each other. This was how they stayed - in the dark, the sun long past set, with fingers interlocked, facing into each other, each burying themself in the other - until Jesper broke the silence abruptly.

“Inej told me that she wanted to check your chest today, if you felt up to it. Said we shouldn’t wait until it got worse.” His voice was soft, barely over a murmur.

“Mm,” Bryn hummed, the only response he received.

“You probably have a few broken ribs, if not a collarbone. Trust me, you don’t take a bullet without consequences. Although, you took it much better than most people I’ve seen.”

Bryn laughed, finally, the first time that day. “Well, it was my first time getting shot. I’m sure next time it’ll be easier.”

“There won’t be a next time.” His voice darkened from the joking tone it had been, a serious statement that anyone could tell he fully intended to back up.

“I’ll try,” they responded. There was a pause, a quiet but comfortable silence, before the continued. “There’s a bruise. It’s dark, and it’s still sore. But I’m breathing okay, so my lungs shouldn’t be damaged. I think I'll be fine.”

“Probably,” he said, “but I agree with Inej. You should make sure there’s no permanent damage. And you need rest. And food.” He pulled himself away, reluctant, to look Bryn in as near as he could approximate their eye given the darkness. “You haven’t eaten since we left yesterday, you know.”

“Since when do you keep track of things like that?”

“Since you missed the barmaid try to flirt with Kaz. Oh, I wish you’d have been there. You could have made the situation so much worse.” The two laughed before Jesper continued. “You should come downstairs with me and eat. I managed to fend Nina off from some of the waffles. She was vicious. I don’t want that to have been in vain.”

“It must’ve been a brave and honorable fight. And now they must be the perfect rubbery, cold consistency, just how you know I like them.”

“Eh, just drown them in sugar or something. You were going to do it anyway.”

Bryn smiled, and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

From the side table, Jesper retrieved the revolver and, with a flourish, returned it to the holster at his hip as the two of them stood. His hand remained on their back, as though he were guiding them - or possibly just reminding them of his presence - as they exited the room into the comparatively blinding hall and began to head down the stairs.

As the others’ faces came into view, Jesper’s face cracked into a beaming smile, and he gave an odd sort of flourishing bow, as if showing them off. There was no fanfare from the ones watching below, but Jesper provided one of his own.

“May I present to you our hero, Eriksdottir?”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [1053]

“This is such a bad idea. Wolf, I know you and the Chief have a weird pissing contest going on at all times. But this is such shit.” Krem pants, out of breath as he makes a grab for Rocky, dragging the man up with him as they clamber up a steep rock face.

“If I die,” Rocky snarls, “I’m going to kill you both. Maybe throw in Aclassi just because.”

“I didn’t do shit to you!”

“Yeah, you didn't save me from their dick measuring contest, either, did you, smart ass?”

“It’ll be fine,” Ellana says. She’s bleeding from a head wound, has three broken fingers, and fractured ribs.

“I want your definition of fine written down on paper so I can make sure I get it perfectly inscribed on your grave marker,” Krem snaps. “Nothing about this is fine. Sometimes you have bad ideas, get over yourself.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Skinner says.

“Thank you, Skinner.”

“It’s a fucking shit storm of an idea," Skinner continues, eyes narrowed as she watches their retreat. “But it also got us results. So. Win some, lose some, I guess.”

“I cannot tell who’s side you’re on right now,” Ellana says as she passes Skinner, squeezing into the narrow gap they’d found between the cliff and the old, worn down wall.

“The side that gets out of here alive,” Skinner replies, hand held out to accept the explosive Rocky passes to her as he follows after Ellana.

“I hate everyone of you with every single fiber of my body,” Rocky says, “No on make a dwarf joke. Fuckin’ swear to the Ancestors — “

“Swear and walk, swear and walk,” Krem shoves Rocky, turning to wait for Skinner to finish planting the charge before retreating going after him.

“Admit it,” he says as soon as they’re in the clear and catching their breath, “We should’ve brought the Chief with us.”

Ellana holds up their prize. A fuckin’ love letter. God, nobles are such damn prissy divas. All of this over a love letter. Sure, a love letter that could probably throw an entire region into chaos. But still. It’s just a love letter. Krem’d skimmed it. It wasn’t even that good of a letter. Krem’s pretty sure Stitches could write better than this. Hell. Krem could write better than this.

“We succeeded.”

“You’re beat up as fuck,” Skinner says, “And we almost got our asses handed to us on a silver platter.”

“We succeeded.”

Skinner scowls. “Yeah.”

Ellana meets each of their gazes in turn. “We succeeded. Tell me. If we brought the Iron Bull with us today, could we have made it through that escape? Could we have snuck in and stolen this? The only reason the alarms were tripped was because a child had gotten lost during the party. Could that have been avoided or planned for? Do you think the child would have reacted better if she had seen a very large Qunari man instead of myself?”

Krem scowls. “Don’t try to logic around this one. If the Chief were there we’d have gone in through the front because everyone knows him.”

“And then what?” Ellana asks. “Sure, all eyes would have been on him, but they would be on us as well. Which one of us is he fucking? All of us maybe? Which one of the delightful little creatures at the Iron Bull’s side is his current lover and are they open to sharing? Or. Alternatively, for the smarter people in the crowd — who did he bring and why? Why is the Iron Bull here? Who hired him? All eyes would be on us. It would be harder to sneak away and it would be harder to cover our absence. Better to slide in like the thieves we were meant to be.”

Krem presses his knuckles to his forehead. “I hate it when you talk sense.”

“Then don’t start questioning me when you already know it,” Ellana snaps. “Besides. The man’s got such strong allergies that he can barely see straight. What do any of you think he could accomplish other than covering the entire estate in his sneezes?”

“We’re going to go back to camp,” Rocky says, “Looking like we got the losing end of the stick. The Chief is going to laugh and probably mock us for weeks to come.”

“Let him laugh. Let him mock. We did the job and that’s what counts. We’re mercenaries. There is no promise of a job being done elegantly,” Ellana says, sliding the letter into her breast plate. “It doesn’t matter if we didn’t come out of it pretty and that it didn’t turn out neatly. I never said it would. I said that we could do it without him and we did.”

“Next time I back you, I’m going to remember this,” Krem grumbles, “Do you have enough magic left to check yourself over?”

Ellana gestures towards her head. “Emergency treatment done. The ribs are fine. Let’s just splint the fingers for now.”

Skinner moves to take Ellana’s hand and Ellana quickly draws it back.

“Not you. You’re spiteful. You’d make it hurt extra on purpose.”

Skinner bares her teeth in a grin. “Pot calling the kettle back. You don’t have room to talk about spite or being petty. Give me your hand. Who else is gonna do it? Of the three of us who aren’t you I’m the one who’s least annoyed with you right now.”

Krem reaches into his pocket and pulls out some scraps of cloth that he begins to tear into smaller pieces.

“Can’t believe Stitches called it,” Krem mutters. “Told me, oh take these with you, you’re probably gonna need them. For what I asked? I’m a fool.”

“You’re all just acting cranky because you wanted to go to the party,” Ellana rolls her eyes. “And then I made you do actual work.”

“Fuck, yes I’m mad that we had to sneak around when we could’ve just gone to a party and slipped in and out as guests!” Rocky exclaims. “All of this damn work!”

“Oh, tragedy, you had to work to do your work,” Ellana snorts. “What next, will you be terribly cross with me when I say we have to walk back to camp with our own legs?”

[saelwen]

Your Witcher

Dark!Geralt of Rivia x Shy!Reader

Chapter Seven

Masterlist

Summary: You were a shy girl that worked on the tavern of your town, serving drunken men that came to drown all their problems in alcohol. On one of your busy days on the tavern, you grabbed the attention of a certain witcher. In which resolve you being taken away by the white-haired witcher. (Sorry I´m bad at summaries 😂)

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of smut

Words:1.400

The sound of something heavy drag on the floor woke you up. Opening slowly your eyes, you saw Geralt dragging a large iron chest inside the room, making it, even more, smaller than before. Confused, you sit up on the bed, rubbing away the sleep from your e/c eyes.  

The metal chest was decorated with small runes that glowed like fireflies flying on a warm summer night. Titling your head to the side, you look down to the lock and see that it hasn’t any. Weird...

“Oh!...Good morning, princess!” He said with a rich deep voice, forcing a shiver to run down your spine. Lifting your head, you meet his lusty eyes. You nod gently and focus your gaze on the strange chest again, wondering of what it contains. He follows your gaze and smirk, patting gently on the cold iron. “It a surprise, princess!... For you and our lovely dog.” He said while smiling wickedly to you. Your eyes widened with fear, scared of what he had in mind for you and Alice.  

“W..What do you want from me!?” You hiss at him, surprised by how loud your voice came out. His face was also contoured with surprise but vanished quickly and changed to an evil smile. He walks to the bed, sitting slowly beside you. His large hand cups your heated cheeks and stroke his thumb gently. “Well, well, well... It seems that my sweet little princess is feisty today.” He said while moving his hand down to your neck, squeezing gently. You look down and your body starts shaking in fear and with... excitement. His golden eyes pierce yours, looking almost to your soul. The smirk on his lips grew as he notices your body begin to fill with thrill, he leans down and gives you a gentle kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry, princess...You will know very soon of what’s inside of this chest.” He whispers into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe.  

You push him away and curl your arms around your chest, hiding your bare breasts from his carnal gaze. He then stood up and walk back to the door, looking to you over his massive shoulder. “I’m going out for a while...be a good girl and stay here. The dog will guard the house a while I’m gone.” With that, he locks the door. Tears start rising to your eyes but this time you seal them away, tired of crying all the time.  

Lying down, you pull the soft blankets over your naked body. Outside you could hear Geralt walking away and Alice patrolling around the hut, sniffling and growling to the sounds that came out from the woods. Letting out a heavy sigh, you roll to the side. Watching the flames dancing together in the warm fireplace. You are so tired...tired of being lock in this small room, tired of being used by that monster. Closing your eyes, you try to sleep since there’s nothing to do here but as your eyes begin to close a growl sounded behind you. Jumping up the bed, you look behind you seeing nothing but a wooden wall.  

Frowning, you put your hand on the wall, feeling a gush of warm wind pass through your fingers. You look more closely and saw a small crack between the two thick logs. Peeking through the small hole, you saw a bright blue eye looking back to you. Alice...  

“You smell so good, Y/n... I can still smell my scent on you...” she growls lowly while sniffing the air around her. A shiver runs down your spine, her deep voice made you whimper quietly and your slit wet as you remember how her warm long tongue felt so good inside you. “W..What did he do to you, Alice?” You asked shyly, trying to not let her know how she makes you hot and bothered.  

She let out a loud laugh, almost like a howl and claw the wall outside. “Nothing bad... He only set me free from that stupid human life. Now, I can do whatever I want... And what I want is to crack this stupid wall open and take you into the dark woods, mate you until you couldn’t feel your little cute legs!” Her voice was dark and dangerous, awakening more your excitement.  

Letting out a shaking breath, you shook your head and bite tightly your lower lip, drawing some blood. “This isn’t you, Alice. You need to fight this spell! I know you can do it.” You whisper to her, trying to bring her back to the light but she just stood there laughing at your words. “Oh, sweet Y/n! You don’t know me. Never known!... Now, the master told me that i could have some fun with his little princess... and that’s i will do after patrolling one more time. Be prepared, Y/n!” She said while clawing more the wall with her sharp nails. She walks away, talking loudly about the things that she will do to you on the bed.  

You crawl back to your corner and cry into your hands. You need to find a way out of this hell and quick!  

                                                  /// \\\

Geralt stops roach as he saw the large gates in the distance. Petting gently roach’s neck, he climbs down and guides her to the gates. The sounds of the birds and soft wind stopped as he arrives at the gates, making it look like he had stepped into another dimension.  

Suddenly the large gates open with a loud squeak, making roach let out a nervous huff. “Easy, roach!” He said while walking down the path that leads to a gigantic old palace. When he arrived at the massive pair of wooden doors, Geralt wrap roach’s reins around an old tree. “Stay here.” He mumbled to the mare, patting her snout.  

Walking up the marble stairs, he pushes the heavy doors open. Inside was dead silent, dark as the night. Taking a careful step forward, he looks around the darkroom. His golden eyes accommodating the darkness around him, seeing the place was full of good quality decorations that were full of dust for not being used for decades.  

As he walks to the middle of the room, he heard a gentle humming coming from the long dark hallway beside him. Taking a deep breath, he follows the calm voice.

Geralt stops in front of a door that was cracked open. Peeking through, he saw a small blond figure standing beside the warm fireplace, combing her long hair with her delicate fingers. 

Stepping inside, his heavy footsteps grab the attention of the blond woman. Turning her head around, she looks at him with a huge smirk on her delicate face. “Geralt! It’s been so long!” She said with a cheerful voice.  

He lets out a hmm and walks slowly to her, eyeing her carefully. “Do you have it?” He asked with a snarl, making her smirk grew bigger on her beautiful angelic face. “Oh my... I see that you eager to return to your pet.” She said with a mocking voice, standing up and walking to the small table beside the red old sofa.  

She opens the drawer and took out a black bottle, then she walks to him and put gently the bottle on his large hand. “Give her one spoon every day for a week.” Geralt looks down at the black bottle, seeing the strange black gluey moving inside. He nods and puts the bottle on his belt. “Will it work?” He asked, looking down at her reddish eyes.  

The witch smiled wickedly and nods, letting out a small giggle. “Of course, Witcher!... Now, let’s begin with my payment.” She said while rubbing her soft hands on his chest, undoing his chest armor. He rolls his golden eyes and pulls her roughly to him, kissing her plumps lips hungrily.  

They both fell naked on the fur rug in front of the fireplace, kissing and touching. Her moans and groans filled the cold room while he thrust roughly into her. 

The light from the blazing fire made their skin glow with their sweat. As he sucked her lovely skin on her neck, Geralt look up, smirking while thrusting harder into the blond woman, seeing the black bottle beside his pants that contains your new future.  

You will never leave me again, Princess... Never.

Hey Guys!!! Well, I hope you like this new chapter. Feel free to comment and tell me what you think!! 

Also, I will start a series of one-shots of Monsters x reader! Because who doesn´t love a good old romance with a demon.😂 Stay tuned for that!

Taglist is OPEN

XOXO

Taglist: @burningcoffeetimetravel​ | @uncoolcloudyhead​ | @crazyxreader​ | @notyouraveragemochii​ | @toxic-quenn​ | @supernaturalvikingwhore​ | @ellallheart​ | @lucia-leno03​ | @bloo-moon-freak​ |  @decaffeinatedwolfbouquet-8655385 | @viyamystic​ | @mikariell95​ | @notavintagecliche​ | @rynabarnesrogers​ | @salliebley​ | @fraeuleindurcheinander​ | @majicbamana​ | @debonaire-princess​ | @comfortingcreature​ | @nati-epic-jelly​ | @alwayshave-faith​ | @cookies186​ | @clarissa-27​ | @mariechen1397​ | @marvelfansworld​ | @famouscroissantcowboyfriend​ | @soulmatelove96​ 

[lihikainanea]

Tiger getting drunk and laying on the couch and she’s all heart eyes for her boy but he’s out grabbing groceries. She calls him and is slurring every word but he just listens to her mumbling nonsense while he grabs food for her. :,)

oh god I am SO FUCKIN SOFF FOR THIS.

Listen. Listen, bubs. Let’s add another layer to this, alright? Let’s even just go ahead and say poor tiger is riding the crimson wave and she’s in pain and all needy about it.

Maybe homegirl had a big win this week, a big work project that came through or a raise or a promotion or even just some nice words from some higher up at her job when she completed a project. She was stoked about it, but a Wednesday night is a weird night to celebrate so they saved it for Saturday. (For the record, I think every day is a great day to celebrate. Any excuse to have champagne, really.)

And Bill’s a big sap for his Little Human so you know he planned it to start early. And while he also had plans Friday night to ensure he banged her brains out so good that she could barely walk Saturday, the poor kid came schlepping home Friday night, already doubled over in pain, miserable and shivering.

“What’s wrong, kid?” he coos at her, running his hands over her arms as she thunked her forehead on his chest.

“I got my period,” she mumbles, “I wasn’t due for another week, but surprise motherfucker.”

He makes a sympathetic noise, plops a kiss on her head.

“I hurt everywhere,” she says pitifully. He wraps her up in a hug, lifts her so she can wrap her legs around his waist.

“Let’s fix that, then,” he says as he kisses her cheek. So his plans to ruin her were swapped out instead for a bubble bath, his giant sweatshirt and a pair of comfy sweatpants for her, a hot water bottle, lots of cuddles, some good food and some wine, and nearly an entire kilogram bag of gummy bears before she eventually just passed out on his chest. He carried her to bed, settling her under the covers before scooting out to refill her hot water bottle for her.

But listen tiger woke up the next day warm and snuggly, the ever present ache in her lower belly still present but much better now. Bill’s thumb was tucked in her mouth and even though she was awake she made no effort to remove it, in fact she just wrapped her hand around his wrist to hold it there. His chest was flush against her back, hot as a furnace, his long legs tucked up comfortably under hers. His arm is wrapped tight around her, across her rib cage and up between her breasts. She’s just...cocooned in his warmth, and when he feels her start to wake he pulls her closer, nuzzles his scratchy chin onto her shoulder.

“Morning sweet girl,” he purrs, all raspy and deep, “You feeling okay?”

She whimpers a little but it’s a happy, satisfied one--scooting her ass back into him and curling up a little smaller so he’d hug her tighter. It works. She nods her head, still keeping a hold of his thumb in her mouth.

“Are you in pain?” he asks, and she shivers a little when he lays a soft kiss on her shoulder, runs his scratchy jaw up her neck and kisses her earlobe.

She shakes her head.

“Good,” he whispers, settling back on his pillow and sniffing her hair, “Pinch me when you want your coffee.”

And they stay like that, a real lazy morning. He drifts in and out of sleep, until he feels her playfully nip his thumb still nestled in her mouth. He smirks but doesn’t move, and a few seconds later, she bites it with a little more intent. Chuckling, he raises up and kisses her cheek, giving her butt a playful tap.

“Alright, I get it,” he laughs.

But like, listen. Bill had full intentions of making this a weekend celebration, full of all of her favourite things. So not only does he bring her coffee, but he also brings in a bottle of pretty expensive champagne with two chilled flutes.

“What’s this?” she asks, as she sits up.

“This is to celebrate my girl, in all of her bad assery,” he says. He makes a show of popping the cork, handing her the two glasses to hold while he pours it out. I’ll bet he even playfully splashes some of the cold liquid “accidentally” on her chest while her hands are occupied, diving forward to lick it up from between her breasts.

“Oops,” he mumbles playfully against her lips, “My bad.”

Tiger’s got a pretty high alcohol tolerance but bubbles will do it for her every time. So by the time he’s ready to get breakfast on, she’s probably already a little tipsy. But she winces as she goes to stand up, because shit her stomach is starting to cramp up again and her lower back is pretty sore. Bill swoops down and picks her up, grabs her hot water bottle from the bed, and carts her to the kitchen so she can keep him company. He sets her down on the counter, refills her hot water bottle and tucks it against her abdomen, stealing a kiss.

And she’s just feeling so good and safe you know? He took such good care of her last night, he’s still taking care of her this morning and he’s just standing there all tall and shit, saying things like how proud he is of her. Tiger’s buzzed and so soft about it.

And while he usually knows her schedule and knows when to stock up on her favourites, this round came early so he wasn’t prepared. And he needs to slip out after breakfast just to get some stuff--he doesn’t have anymore of her favourite ice cream and he knows she’ll be looking for it later. He hadn’t anticipated that she’d eat the whole kilogram of gummy bears last night so he needs more of those too. He ran out of Midol for her, and needs to pick up a few more iron-rich foods to incorporate into dinner tonight to help her feel better.

She wants to stay glued to his side but the thought of getting dressed and going out are just pretty daunting right now, so he sets her up on the couch with a movie, a warm blanket--and some more champagne. He gives her a big, lingering smooch and tells her he’ll be back in an hour.

He doesn’t make it in the car for 10 minutes before she’s calling him.

“Hey kid,” he greets, “Everything okay?”

“Hi uh...yeah. I just...I...” she’s mumbling and man he can hear that she’s small for him just by her voice. He smiles--she’s usually a big goober when he takes care of her but he knows the addition of her cycle and how big of a week it was for her is just really compounding it all. And he loves it. My god, he loves it when she gets like this.

“Do you miss me already?” he smiles. He tries to keep his tone playful without being mocking--mocking, hell just light teasing, would cut her too deep when she’s like this.

“No,” she mutters, and then a pause, “....maybe.”

She stops to hiccup and he laughs.

“I’m not far, kid. I usually have all the stuff you like on hand and you’re like clockwork, but this one caught me by surprise,” he’s babbling but he’s just doing it so that she can listen to his voice, “I need your ice cream, and some more gummy bears. Do you want the regular ones or the sour ones?”

Silence for a second. He clues in.

“Or both?”

“Both, please,” she says, and then he hears her sniffle just a tad, “You always take such good care of me.”

God his heart clenches.

“I love taking care of you, tiger,” he said, “It makes me feel really good, too.”

“You’re just so good to me,” she continues, “You always know what I need even before I do. And you always smell so good and you’re so warm and your hugs are the best because your arms are really long and you squeeze me extra tight, and you always--always--do that thing where you hug me tighter as I go to pull away.”

He parks in the lot of the store, smiling shyly to himself as he grabs his phone and keeps it to his ear.

“And you let me do that weird thing that I like doing even when I don’t realize I’m doing it and you don’t make me feel bad or weird about it. What kind of adult still sucks their thumb?”

“I love it when you suck my thumb, kid,” he says, “It’s so goddamn cute.”

“it’s weird but you still let me do it. And the way you sometimes drag me closer when I’m sleeping, I just wake up and you’re pulling me closer and tucking me more into you and it’s really nice.”

He stops for a second, because shit he didn’t realize that she knew he did that.

“And you’re a good kisser,” she keeps babbling, slurring a little and pausing every now and then to hiccup, “Your lips are always so soft and you take your time, you don’t shove your tongue down my throat and you just take it slow and it makes me think you enjoy it too.”

He’s motoring through the store now, because fuck all he wants it to just be back home and tuck her into his arms.

“I do enjoy it. I love kissing you, kid. Could do it all day,” he says.

“Are you almost home?” she says pitifully. God he almost throws the cart to the side, abandoning everything just to run back to her.

“Almost kid, just paying now,” he says.

And once he’s back in the car he just guns it home, going full speed. He throws the car haphazardly into the driveway and bounds up the steps. When he unlocks the door she’s curled up there where he left her, all small and bundled up in the corner of the couch. Her eyes are still a little glassy, a little unfocused from the champagne, but he just kneels in front of her, takes her face gently in his hands, and leans forward to kiss her. It’s slow and soft but intense, deep, lingering as she whimpers against his mouth and he pulls her in closer. When he breaks apart he licks his lips, lets out a slight laugh of disbelief, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers.

“Yeah,” she whispers reverently, “You do that really well.”

“All day, kid,” he murmurs.