#also related when she was like i never expected to be a mother of six

[tsukinohana]

literally me calling hunter baby

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l nine

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: When you find out that you’re pregnant, everything comes crumbling down around you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE THAT HEAVILY IMPLIES DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. this chapter it also contains a very uncomfortable scene with reader and Luke, but despite the sexual nature of the scene, READER DOES NOT GET SA, BUT SHE DOES GET INJURED. INJURY there is a description of an injury as the result of DV HEAVILY IMPLYING STRANGULATION. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. pregnancy, mentions of high risk pregnancy (not reader), mentions of child loss (not reader), mentions of pregnancy related symptoms (missed menstrual cycle, morning sickness), protective Tommy Miller, protective Joel, and last but certainly not least, feral Joel. this chapter is a lot, just proceed with caution if anything in bold can be a potential trigger for you.

word count: 11.8k

October, 2024

It’s the middle of October.

By now, the pain had become almost unbearable. Time certainly wasn’t healing the wound. 

If anything, time only seemed to be making it worse.

So, so much fucking worse. 

It drags, and you almost feel as if you’re paralyzed by it. But the only thing that you can do about it, about any of this, is just pretend. 

Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Pretend you don’t feel empty.

Pretend you don’t need him.

But you do need him. Oh, how you fucking need him.

The hole in your heart is growing bigger by the day, and only Joel Miller is capable of filling the void. Only he has the ability to make you feel whole again. Complete.

“Be honest with me—what does this look like?”

You pause your knitting and glance over at Maria.

With her due date approaching, you had offered to help her prepare for the baby’s arrival. At about six months, Maria was expected to give birth towards the middle of winter season, and instead of trading or having to use rations for certain baby items, like blankets, little socks and mittens, you’d decided to show her how to make them instead. Not only was it saving her from having to trade or use her rations on things that could easily be knitted, but it served as a decent, albeit temporary, distraction, giving your mind the chance to focus on something else other than how deeply you were hurting without Joel.

Tilting your head slightly, you eye the soft, butter yellow wool she’s holding in her hands. “Um, is that the start of another baby blanket?”

“No.” Maria’s face falls. “It’s supposed to be a hat.”

“Oh. Um.” You lean forward in the brown leather armchair you’re perched on, squinting hard at it as she holds it up. “Okay, yeah, I can kind of see the shape of it now. I can totally see it being a little hat for the baby.” She tosses you a knowing smile and you squirm slightly, heat prickling at your ears.

“I appreciate you lying to me.” She giggles and sets down her knitting needles beside her on the couch along with the ball of wool yarn. Leaning back, she places both hands on her belly and sighs. “At the very least this child will never go without a blanket seeing as blankets are all I’m capable of making.”

You flash her a small, but reassuring smile.

“You’ll get the hang of it, Maria, I promise. It just takes some practice, that’s all.”

“Well, now that Luke has put me on strict bed rest until I have the baby, I’m going to have all the time in the world to practice,” Maria remarks, exhaling another sigh. Craning her neck, she peers at your own knitting project, which you’ve been working on in something of a secretive manner in your lap and out of the expectant mother’s view. “What are you making over there, anyway?”

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

“I’m so glad you asked since I’m just about done.”

Crossing the last stitch, you set aside your knitting needles and then hold up the finished product. “What do you think of these?”

Maria’s hand flies to her mouth, tears welling up in her dark eyes the moment she sees the pair of little brown baby booties in your hands. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, a tear rolling down the side of her face as you stand up and walk across her living room to present her with the shoes. Sitting down beside her, you hold them out in the palms of your hands. With trembling fingers, she accepts them. “Kevin had a pair just like these when he was a newborn. I kept them even after he’d outgrown them.” She lets out a small laugh in spite of herself. “You know, I’d always complain that he was growing up too fast. I used to wish that I could slow time down a little so I could enjoy my son being that young longer,” she admits, sniffing. She reaches up, dabbing at her damp eyes with one of her hands. “And now Kevin is frozen in time, forever a three year old little boy.”

She sets the booties down on her belly and inhales deeply, willing herself to keep her composure.

Swallowing back your own emotions, you brush a single, stray tear from her cheek with your thumb. It wasn’t the first time that she’d opened up about losing her child—but Maria often kept her emotions hidden, tucked away along with her son’s memory. For the last several years, she’d dedicated most of her time and energy to Jackson and to its people, pouring herself completely into her role as the community’s leader. But now that Luke had placed her on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy, Maria had no choice but to step down, temporarily handing the role over to Tommy, along with a small council she’d handpicked herself.

It hadn’t been easy for her, after all, there was only so much she could do to keep herself preoccupied while being confined to the four walls of her home. She found her mind wandering to Kevin a lot more often than not lately, and the pregnancy hormones did absolutely nothing to help in the matter.

“Maria?” you say her name softly. “You okay?”

She slowly exhales the breath she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she finally replies, sniffing again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She pauses momentarily. “I just—there’s a part of me that still has trouble believing I’m going to be a mother again. It’s been so long, you know? What if I’ve forgotten how to be a good mom?”

Dropping your hand from Maria’s face, you offer it out for her to hold. She accepts it and you give her hand a gentle squeeze as you vouch, “This baby, they couldn’t be any luckier than to have a mother like you, Maria.”

“And a fuckin’ hell of a dad like me,” a voice teases from the doorway.

Tommy, who had been down at the commune’s market picking up some potatoes for dinner, saunters into the living room with a brown paper bag in his arm. Setting the bag down onto a nearby table, he then makes his way over to his wife. Noticing that she’d been crying, he leans over and presses his lips against her forehead, softly murmuring, “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she assures him with a nod. “I’m just extra sensitive and hormonal right now. The usual.”

He hums. “Uh, yeah, I kinda figured that out when you bawled your way through Old Yeller at the movies the other night.”

She pouts. “Pregnant or not, that movie’s a tear jerker, okay? Only people made of stone don’t cry when the dog dies.”

“She’s got a point, Tommy,” you agree with a shrug. “I cried too, and I’m not pregnant.”

Drawing himself back up to his full height, Tommy glances at the booties resting on Maria’s belly. He picks them up and holds them both in the palm of his hand. 

“Well, ain’t these just the teeniest things I ever did see,” he remarks with a soft chuckle. “Who made these?”

Maria jerks her chin towards you. “She did.”

Tommy’s eyes meet yours and it feels like a punch to the fucking gut—they remind you of his brother. “Almost feels like a crime, havin’ you make clothes for our kid for free,” he states, shaking his head as he hands them back to Maria. “You’re makin’ the baby’s entire wardrobe at this point, little lady.”

Sheepishly, you wave a dismissive hand at him. “I made one sweater and a couple pairs of mittens for them. I wouldn’t exactly call that a wardrobe, Tommy.”

“It’s a hell of a lot more stuff than we had before. I gotta be honest, it just don’t feel right acceptin’ all these things from you without payin’ somehow. I’d really like to at least trade you somethin’ for them.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline the offer.

“I appreciate it, but I really don’t need anything.”

“What ‘bout Luke?”

“He doesn’t either.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t waste your breath,” Maria chimes in with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to get her to accept a trade all week long and she simply won’t budge.”

Tommy purses his lips together, slowly rubbing his chin in thought. “Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he proposes after a minute. “How ‘bout you and Luke both come on over and join us for dinner later tonight? That ain’t too bad of a deal, right?”

You silently mull over the offer for a second.

“If I accept the invitation, then will you two knock it off with all this damn trade nonsense?” When he eagerly nods, you sigh. “Alright then, I accept. We’ll come over for dinner tonight. Granted he doesn’t come home late from the clinic again.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Knowing he only means well, you decide to be a good sport about it and smile at him. “No, Tommy. I suppose it wasn’t.”

“Great!” Maria beams. “We haven’t had a chance to get together for dinner in months. Lately when I see Luke, it’s as his patient,” she muses. “I have to admit, it’ll be so nice to have a conversation with him that doesn’t revolve around my uterus for once.”

Tommy jokingly makes a face. “Yeah. Tell the doc to leave all that medical stuff at the door before he comes over. Last thing I wanna hear ‘bout while I’m chowin’ down on some big, juicy bison steaks is what fuckin’ size my wife’s uterus is—”

“Tommy! That’s not funny!” Rolling her eyes at her husband, Maria turns to you to apologize but she stops short when she notices a sudden, not to mention drastic, change in your complexion. Frowning, she reaches up and touches your cheek. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?”

You can taste the bile at the back of your throat.

“I—I’m sorry, what did you just say was for dinner?”

Tommy shoots you a strange look. “Uh, steaks?”

The mere mention of the word sends a violent wave of sickness crashing over you—slapping your hand tightly over your mouth, you scramble to jump off the couch and make a beeline for their downstairs bathroom right across the hallway. You’d made it just in time to fall to your knees in front of the toilet. Clutching the sides of the porcelain bowl, you gag loudly, and the sickening sound of your retching bounces off the walls.

As your stomach heaves, you feel one hand gather your hair to hold it back and out of your face, while the other rubs soothing circles into your back.

“Let it all out,” Maria encourages you. “It’s alright, just let it all out. There you go, get everything out.”

Tommy pokes his head into the bathroom.

“She okay?”

“Tommy! Get out of here!” Maria scolds him over her shoulder. “She doesn’t need an audience!”

He holds up his hands. “Alright, alright! Sheesh, I was just makin’ sure she’s okay, you ain’t gotta bite my head off!” He huffs at her. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need me.” Without another word, he spins around on the heel of his boot and disappears.

Once you’re certain there’s nothing left, your trembling hand reaches for the handle on the tank and pulls it down, flushing the toilet. You then sit back, slumping against the wall. “Jesus. I am so fucking sorry. I have no idea what the hell came over me,” you groan, the embarrassment evident in your tone as you wipe at your mouth with the sleeve of your flannel shirt.

Maria peers at you with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

“You know,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “About five months ago, I went through a phase where I couldn’t stand the thought of meat—any kind, but red meat had to be the worst. I just could not stomach it.” Her hand falls away from your face and she rises to her feet with a labored grunt. Leaning back against the sink, she continues to say, “Poor Tommy, he couldn’t even mention it to me or I’d throw up on his boots. Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant.”

You stare at her, your lips parting slightly.  “Maria, you can’t seriously be insinuating—I am not pregnant. No, it’s not possible, you know that I can’t have kids,” you sputter out, furiously shaking your head. “There’s just no fucking way that I’m—”

Maria holds up her hands to stop you. “When was the date of your last menstrual cycle?”

“It was recent.”

“How recent?”

Silently, you start counting the weeks and you freeze the moment you realize you’d missed September completely, and October’s cycle had been due two weeks ago. You’ve been so lost in your own grief, so busy trying to keep yourself from falling apart, that you hadn’t even realized you haven’t bled since—

“August,” you breathe out in a terrified whisper.

The last time you had your period was in August.

August. 

Before you had slept with Joel Miller for the first time. 

Maria whirls around and starts digging in the medicine cabinet above the sink, and then in the one below it. After a minute of rummaging, she turns back around and extends a hand out to you, offering to help you to your feet. She lets out another grunt as she helps you stand. “I had one left,” she states, holding out her other hand to you, an individually wrapped pregnancy test in her palm. “At this point, I don’t think you even need to take a test, but it doesn’t hurt to have solid proof.”

You can hardly choke out her name. “Maria—”

She hastily shoves the test into your hands. “Just take it. I’ll be back in to check on you, okay?”

Not giving you the chance to protest, she steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

You look down at the test in your palm and then up into the mirror, meeting your own wide eyes in the reflection.

It can’t be possible. It just can’t be possible.

You can’t have children. 

With shaking hands, you unzip your blue jeans and then tear open the package. Your mind is in such a haze, you have to read the instructions three or four times before the information finally sticks. After taking the test, you lay it down top of the counter with the results window facing down. You pull your panties and jeans back into place and wash your hands using the bar of soap next to the sink—all the while, the sheer panic has started to settle in, the fear that accompanies it seeping deep into your bones.

Swallowing harshly, you realize it’d been well over the three minutes the package had instructed you to wait for the results.

“It’s negative. It’s negative,” you affirm quietly over and over underneath your breath as you pick it up and flip it in your hand. “It’s negative. It’s negative—”

You stop, and for a second, your heart feels like it stops too.

Horrified, you blink furiously, as if somehow you’ve misread the results—but there is no fucking mistaking those two solid little pink lines.

Your blood runs cold in your veins.

You’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months.

And you’re pregnant. 

Luke hasn’t touched you in months. 

And you are fucking pregnant. 

Maria knocks lightly on the bathroom door.

“It’s been a few minutes now—can I come in?”

She waits, only to be met with complete silence.

“Hey, hon.” She knocks again. “Is everything okay?”

Again, there’s no response from the other side of the door.

“Christ, Maria.” Tommy suddenly appears beside her with a glass of water in his hand. Flashing his wife a teasing look, he quips, “Can’t you let the poor girl do her goddamn business in peace? What’s wrong with you, woman?”

Maria frowns. “I think something’s wrong.”

His playful grin falters. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not answering me.”

Tommy chortles, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe ‘cause she’s actually in there doin’ her business?”

Hesitantly, Maria bites down on her bottom lip.

“What? What is it?”

“I gave her a pregnancy test to take.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. “You fuckin’ with me?”

Maria glares at him. “No! I’m not fucking with you, I’m being serious! I gave her the test and then told her I would check back in with her after she took it, but now she’s not answering me and I’m kind of worried.”

“The door locked?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it is. Should we just open the door and see if she’s okay? I don’t want to barge in there but—”

Tommy hands Maria the glass of water. “Hey,” he calls lightly as he raps on the door with his fist. “Everythin’ alright in there?” He waits for a minute, but when you don’t reply, he grasps the brass doorknob in his hand and says sternly, “Now you listen here, little lady. You had best answer me right now, or we’re gonna have to come in, you understand me?”

Silence. 

“Last chance, talk or I’m gonna open this door.”

Nothing. 

“Alright then, suit yourself. Hope you’re decent.”

Tommy turns the knob, cracking the door open—when he doesn’t see you, he tries pushing it open further. The door stops halfway, and he peers around it only to find you sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, preventing the door from going any further. “Shit, she’s sittin’ right behind the goddamn—fuckin’ hold on, Maria! If I try shovin’ it open, I could hurt her!” Being careful so as not to hit you or step on you by accident, he squeezes his way into the bathroom. He crouches down beside you, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hey, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

You can’t speak. You can’t move.

All that you can do is stare at him. Petrified. 

“C’mon, little lady,” he coaxes, softly. “Talk to me.”

“Tommy! Let me in!” Maria demands, impatiently. “Can you move her? I can’t squeeze through, my belly is way too big.”

Tommy slides one arm around your shoulders and the other arm under your knees. “I’m just gonna move you out the way so Maria can come in, alright? C’mere.” He gingerly slides you across the tile and cradles the side of your body against his chest. He then calls out to his wife, “There, that should be enough room!”

Maria pushes the door open and rushes inside. “Is she okay?” Gripping Tommy’s shoulder, she slowly lowers herself to kneel beside you. Her eyes go straight to the test clutched in your hand. She just about has to pry your ice cold fingers off the white stick one by one. “It’s positive,” she gasps. “Your results are positive—you’re going to have a baby!”

Tommy lets out a loud, gleeful laugh. “Did’ya hear that, little lady? You’re gonna have a baby! You’re gonna be a mama! Ain’t that great news?”

Finally, you snap out of your trance. Your eyes anxiously bounce between Tommy and Maria, heart pounding as they eagerly wait for your reaction with smiles of pure excitement on their faces.

“I—” Unable to utter another word, you burst into tears.

And they’re certainly not tears of happiness.

No, the sobs coming from deep within you aren’t full of joy at the news that you’re going to be a mother.

They’re pained. Cries full of sorrow, anguish, and fear. As the confusion flashes across their faces, all you can do is weep harder, and louder.

“Wait a minute, I thought you would be happy.” Maria’s hands reach for yours and she holds them tightly as she tries to understand what it is that is causing such a negative reaction. “You and Luke tried for a really long time to have another baby. Why are you so upset?” She keeps her voice calm, kind. Warm. It wasn’t that she was judging you—Maria wants to help you, however there’s no way for her to help you if she doesn’t know what’s causing your grief in the first place. “What’s the matter, honey? Are you afraid after what happened last time?”

“I can’t be pregnant,” you rasp out. “I can’t—”

“Hey now, it’s alright. C’mere.” Tommy shifts and he moves to sit down beside you against the wall. His arm drapes around your trembling shoulders in an effort to comfort you. As your entire body shudders with sobs, he pulls you close against his side, rubbing your arm with his hand. Once they’ve subsided and little hiccups are all that are left, he finally speaks again. “You can talk to us, little lady. ‘Bout anythin’ that’s on your mind. We care ‘bout you a whole lot. Y’know that, don’t you?”

“Tommy’s right,” Maria nods. “You’re like family to us. You can come to us about anything. We’ll do whatever we can to help you, okay?”

You shake your head tightly. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

She lets out a small sigh and glances at her husband with a look of defeat. “I think you should run down to the clinic and get Luke. He’ll know what to do to calm her down.”

“No!” you shout loudly, startling them both. “I—Luke can’t find out that I’m pregnant. He just can’t know, or else—” A fresh batch of tears spring forward as you clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling another wail.

“Or else what?” Maria asks, raising an eyebrow.

Or else he was going to fucking kill you.

Tommy grabs your wrist, gently tugging it away from your face. “Or else what?” He echoes his wife. “What is goin’ on? Is there somethin’ we should know ‘bout?”

Yet another sob escapes you and his fingers curl tighter around your wrist, firmly, but he’s careful not to be too harsh.

“We’re gonna need you to tell us what’s goin’ on.”

There’s no way around it. Around any of it.

You have to tell them. 

Swallowing harshly, you admit, “There is.”

The couple waits expectantly.

“The baby isn’t Luke’s.” You mumble it so quietly and incoherently that neither of them hear it despite being in such close proximity.

Maria furrows an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

“The baby isn’t Luke’s!” You cry out, yanking your wrist out of Tommy’s hand. “This baby isn’t his and that’s why he can’t fucking know!”

And just like that, the truth comes tumbling out.

Luke’s violence towards you.

Your romantic affair with Joel.

Ellie discovering the abuse and telling him about it.

Your stubborn refusal to let either of them do anything to help you.

You spare no details of everything that had taken place over the last several months, and by the time you had finally finished, both Tommy and Maria were rendered completely speechless.

“Can one of you say something? Please? Anything at all?” Your voice is small, feeble.

After a minute, Tommy pulls his arm from around your shoulders and stands up. He helps Maria up to her feet before he extends his hand to you. “Alright, first thing’s first. Let me get you up off this floor, little lady.”

His voice is soft, and so is his gaze.

“Tommy how can you—after everything that I’ve done? Your brother—”

“Please. Just let me help you off the floor and then we can talk ‘bout it. Okay?”

You accept his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t let it go as he leads you out of the bathroom and back into the living room where he sits you down on the couch. Maria, who hasn’t said a single word, takes a seat beside you.

Tommy kneels down in front of you, placing a warm and gentle hand on your leg. He almost looks a little bit guilty, as if he should have known what was being done to you behind closed doors. “Look, m’gonna ask you a question and I need an honest answer. How long has he been doin’ this to you?”

Anxiously, you start wringing your hands in your lap.

“Tommy, I can’t. Please, don’t—”

“Tell me,” he encourages you, softly. “When did it first start?”

Your throat bobs. “Two months after my dad died,” you confess, another tear rolling down the side of your face.

Maria stiffens. “Luke has been putting his hands on you for two years?”

“Yes.”

You can hear the shame in your own voice—shame for letting the abuse go on as long as it has, for everything to come to light like this.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Tommy sighs heavily and hangs his head. “Joel told me. He fuckin’ told me.”

You wipe at your swollen eyes with your forearm.

“What are you talking about, Tommy?”

He sighs again.

“Months ago, the day after the big summer party,” he begins to explain. “We were at the bar. Joel was askin’ me ‘bout you and Luke. Said somethin’ just wasn’t right when he saw you two together for the first time. He tried to tell me somethin’ was wrong and I—I didn’t fuckin’ believe him. Told him he was seein’ what he wanted to see ‘cause I knew he liked you. I fuckin’ told him that you and Luke were happy. He tried to tell me and I didn’t fuckin’ listen to him.”

“Tommy, please don’t blame yourself for this,” you beg him. “I’m the one who chose to hide it. This is my own fault, okay? This is all on me, not on you.”

Maria furiously shakes her head. “It’s not your fault and it sure as hell isn’t on you. You’re the victim here.”

Victim. 

The word makes you cringe.

“But it is my fault, Maria. I hid it from you guys for two fucking years.”

“But why? Why did you hide it? Why didn’t you come to us?” Tommy’s voice is strained. “You should’ve told us what he was doin’ to you. We—I could’a done somethin’ to stop it. I could’a helped you.”

“Because. I didn’t want to risk getting him thrown out of the community. Jackson needs him, Tommy.”

“Like hell we do,” Tommy rises to his feet. “Ain’t no way that we’re gonna tolerate that fuckin’ shit here.” With his hands curled tightly into fists, he spins around and starts heading towards the front door.

You stand and chase after him, catching him just as he opens it. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To confront that pathetic son of a bitch—”

“Tommy, please! Don’t do that.” Grabbing his arm, you shoot him a pleading look. “Please, think about this for a minute.”

“Ain’t nothin’ for me to fuckin’ think ‘bout, alright?”

“Yes, there fucking is! This town needs a doctor. They need Luke—Maria needs Luke.” You glance over at her just as she appears in the hallway with both hands on her belly. “God forbid that something goes wrong—she goes into preterm labor or she has a complication when she gives birth. Did you think about that?”

“We’ve got two nurses,” he reminds you.

“Two nurses who only know basic neonatal care. That’s it. If something serious happens, Maria’s going to need Luke. And the baby’s going to need him too.”

You knew you’d gotten your point across when Tommy turns to his wife, helplessly.

“Fuck,” he curses, slamming the door shut. “She’s right. I fuckin’ hate to say it, but she’s right ‘bout that.”

“I am right,” you state and his attention flits back to you. “Luke has to stay and you both know that as well as I do. For the good of Jackson, he has to stay.”

Conflicted, Tommy growls out in frustration. “So what, I’m just s’pposed to give him a fuckin’ pass? How the hell can you expect us—how can you expect me to let that motherfucker walk around this place knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to you over these last two years?”

Your fingers dig into his arm, a fresh batch of hot tears stinging your eyes. “Tommy, if this community suffers without Luke because of me, it will destroy me. The guilt will fucking destroy me.”

Finally, Maria decides to step in. “Listen, I know that you’re trying to look out for the people of this town and I get that. But you’re risking your own life by asking us to let him stay here.” She walks over to you, taking your hands in hers. “Honey, I know men like Luke because I used to prosecute men like Luke. I would take them to court on murder charges.” Her eyes find yours. “I don’t want to scare you, but if that is the only way for me to get through to you, then I will sit you down and I will tell you all about what happened to the women who swore to me their abusive husbands would never, ever take it that far.”

You swallow harshly and a chill runs up your spine.

“I’ll leave,” you squeak. “I’ll leave him.”

“And what if he doesn’t let you walk away?”

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “He will if I’m the one who fuckin’ talks to him. I ain’t gonna give him the choice. He has to let her go.”

Panicked, you furiously shake your head. “No! I can do this on my own, Tommy. I can handle him alone. I don’t need you to do it for me. I can fix this without your help, okay?”

“You can’t,” he says, firmly. “You just can’t.”

“Yes, I can—”

He cuts you off with a pleading look.

“You need to let us help you. Please. Let us help you.”

You had agreed to it, but only on one condition.

“I need a couple of days,” you’d told them.

Tommy frowned. “No. It’s happenin’ tonight. We’re gonna talk to Luke, you’re gonna pack up a couple bags, and we’re gettin’ you away from him. You can stay here with us for a while. You’ll be safe.” Taking notice of the shocked look on your face, he said, “I know you ain’t crazy enough to think I’m gonna let you go home to him tonight. Ain’t no way in hell.”

“I—this is all happening so fast. It’s too overwhelming, Tommy. I just need a day or two to process everything before I take that leap.”

“And give Luke the fuckin’ chance to hurt you again?”

“He hasn’t laid a finger on me in weeks now.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, someone give him a fuckin’ medal!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He hasn’t hit his wife in weeks! What a fuckin’ guy!”

You recoiled, his sarcasm stinging like he’d poured salt straight into the open wound.

“Tommy,” Maria glared at him. “Not helping.”

He immediately shot you an apologetic look.

“Shit. Sorry, little lady. I’m just real worried ‘bout you. I don’t like the idea of you goin’ home to him tonight, and much less knowin’ that you’re pregnant, y’know?” His eyes had fallen to your stomach with sudden curiosity. “When, uh—when do you plan on tellin’ Joel ‘bout the baby, anyway?”

Heat flooded your face and neck.

“I—I’m not really sure about that yet.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy! She just told you that she’s feeling overwhelmed,” Maria chastised him. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Our first priority is going to be to get her out of that house. She has already agreed to letting us help her, so I think there’s a bit of room for compromise. Here’s the deal.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “As much as I don’t want to let you go home to him tonight either, I’m going to allow it so you can take a breather. Tomorrow in the afternoon when you get home from work duty, I’ll come over and help you pack some clothes and necessities, and we can bring them over here to our place.”

Nervously chewing your lower lip, you asked, “And then what?”

“I’ll go confront Luke,” Tommy stated. “Best if you ain’t there when I talk to him, little lady.” He turned to Maria, placing a hand on her belly. “I don’t want you to be there either, sweetheart. I ain’t takin’ any chances and puttin’ you and the baby under stress so I’m gonna have to handle him alone, alright?”

Maria nodded, shifting her attention back to you. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Meekly, you had nodded in agreement. “Yes. We have a deal.”

The rest of that evening passes by in a blur.

Autopilot had taken over the moment that Tommy took you across the road and dropped you off at your door.

“Any problems, you come get me,” he’d said. “You come and get me. No matter what time it is, alright? You fuckin’ come and get me if he tries anythin’.”

All that you could do was give him a weak nod and then you’d turned around, slipping into the house.

You don’t remember cooking dinner.

You don’t remember looking at the clock, noticing it was well past dinnertime and realizing that Luke would be home late as usual. You don’t remember fixing him a plate and leaving it on top of the stove for him to find when he came home, storing all of the leftovers, and washing the small pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

You don’t remember heading upstairs afterwards, you don't remember taking a long shower, brushing your teeth or changing into your pajamas.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the bedroom door opened and Luke walked in, that autopilot finally disengaged.

“You’re still up?”

You’d been sitting on the foot of the bed anxiously picking at your fingernails without even realizing it until he glared at you—he’d always hated the habit and spent months smacking it out of you.

Ceasing from messing with your hands, you drop them into your lap.

“You’re home really late again,” you say, quietly.

“I made a last minute house call. John’s little boy came down with a hell of a fever tonight.” Luke sets down his satchel bag and shrugs out of his jacket—as he does so, you catch sight of the tiny, reddish purple bruise on his neck, right below his ear. Draping his jacket over a nearby chair, he arches his brow as if he were silently challenging you to confront him, as if he’s daring you to ask him who had given him a love bite.

You don’t care. You don’t care about what or who Luke has been doing over the last several nights when he’s been coming home so much later than usual.

Kicking off his black boots, he saunters over to you, his mouth stretching into a cruel, satisfied little smirk.

Oh, he knows damn well you’ve already figured it out.

He wanted you to figure it out.

“Spend the afternoon at Tommy and Maria’s again?”

“Yes. I did.”

“I see.” He hums. “She was telling me during her exam this morning at the clinic that you’ve been helping her knit some clothes for the baby. Is that so?”

“I have,” you murmur, looking down to avert his curious gaze as he stops in front of you. “We’ve been making blankets for the baby, too.”

Luke cups your chin, forcing your eyes back up to meet his. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you.” He roughly curls his fingers around your jaw, his thumb brushing along your quivering lower lip. He hums again. “Something about you seems different, darling. Been looking a lot prettier to me these days.” He lets go of your jaw and brushes your hair behind your shoulder, his finger skimming the strap of your cotton pajama top. “How long has it been now, sweetheart?”

Your throat goes dry, your lips parting in shock as Luke pulls it down your arm, his palm grazing over your skin.

No. This can’t be happening. He wants to—?

Without waiting for a response, Luke grabs one of your hands and places it over his belt buckle.

Noticing your expression, he laughs again. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“You—you haven’t wanted to touch me in months.”

Luke shrugs. “Well, what can I say? I’m suddenly in the mood for my pretty little wife’s cunt.” His grin stretches from ear to ear. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky this time. Maybe we’ll have a little one of our own running around this place. I’m feeling rather optimistic tonight.”

You’re going to be fucking sick all over him.

No, you can’t let him do this to you.

You can’t let him touch you.

He pushes your hand lower, right over his bulge.

“No!” Tearing your hand away, you jump up and roughly shove him away from you. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

He stumbles backwards, but he catches himself before he can fall.

Your chest heaves a d he stares at you, bewildered at what you had just done. “I’m so sorry that whoever you fucked before you came home wasn’t enough for you, but you are not fucking touching me,” you spit at him. “In fact, you’re never touching me ever again because I’m leaving. I’m done, Luke.”

“Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me.” Your voice trembles—you can’t be sure if it trembles out of anger or out of the sheer terror you feel. Maybe it’s a bit of both. “It’s over, Luke. This marriage is fucking over. I’m not putting up with what you’ve been doing to me for the past two years. I’m not going to tolerate it. Not anymore. I’m not going to allow you to keep on hurting me.” Lifting your hand, you slide your wedding band off of your finger and toss it at him. It clinks as it lands on the hardwood floor near his feet. “I’ll be out of the house by tomorrow evening.”

“Let me take a guess.” He speaks calmly, much too calmly, as he starts towards you. The time bomb has started ticking. “You’re going to move in with Joel Miller and his feral little rat of a kid?”

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you seethe, “Where I move is none of your fucking business, Luke.” He steps closer and your courage starts to falter. You can feel yourself wanting to back down—the thought of your unborn child is the only thing that keeps you from completely losing your nerve. “Here is the deal. You’re going to let me leave and you’re going to stay the fuck away from me. If you do that, then I won’t tell anyone anything about the things you’ve done to me. It’ll be like none of it ever happened. We both move on with our lives. Separately. Got it?”

He draws closer and closer. Much too close.

“Oh, you silly, silly girl,” he tsks. “Do you really think you can call the shots? Do you really fucking think you have the upper hand here? That you can make the decision to end this marriage, just like that?”

Closer, until his chest brushes against yours.

“Luke, I’m giving you a fucking chance here,” you say, backing away until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. With nowhere else to go, to run, you fall backwards onto the bed, scrambling up towards the headboard. Your heart is pounding, too hard and too fast—would it give out before he even has the chance to get his hands on you? “Luke, please, just let me go.” Clasping your hands together in a plea, you beg him, your back pressed against the headboard, “If at any point in our relationship you loved me—if at any point in our marriage you actually cared about me, you will fucking let me go in peace. Please. Just let me go. Let me fucking go.”

Luke stands at the foot of the bed, his face blank.

Emotionless. There isn’t a single ounce of compassion in his eyes. No mercy. 

“Please,” you whisper once more. Curling both of your arms around yourself, you subconsciously protect your belly.

Luke reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

You watch, your stomach churning, as he slowly slides the black leather from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke.” 

Joel clutches his stallion’s reins tightly in his hands as the pair fall into a slow, easy trot behind Tommy and his horse, Ranger.

He follows his brother as he leads the way through the quiet, tranquil plains of Wyoming. Instead of scanning their surroundings for signs of potential danger, all Joel can do is think about you—that was all he could ever do these days, was fucking think about you and about that fucking night.

The memory plays over and over in his mind on a loop, torturing him day in and day out. It never fucking stops. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

“I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

That’s precisely what he had done. He had stayed away from Luke. And against his better judgement, he had stayed away from you, too.

“How’s it feel to be back out here?” Tommy asks over his shoulder. He tugs at the reins and gives Ranger the cue to slow his trot, giving Joel and his horse, Bandit, the chance to catch up and ride at their side. “Bet you couldn’t be fuckin’ happier to be off house arrest, huh?” he adds, a light joking edge to his tone.

After about four and a half weeks, Joel had made a full recovery, and he was cleared to return to patrol duties. Wanting to ease him back into the swing of things after so much time off, Tommy decided to pair up with Joel as his partner for that morning’s watch. The two took a route just a few miles west of the community, one that was scoured every couple of days since it was so close to Jackson’s main gate.

“S’alright,” he mutters with a shrug that causes him to wince. His shoulder’s still a little sore. Ellie had assisted with his physical therapy, badgering him every single night to do the exercises in some book she’d found in the town’s library with Dina’s help. He had full range of motion again, and that’s all Tommy had needed in order to allow him to return to patrol.

“You feelin’ alright?” His brother notices the slight look of discomfort on his face. “Shoulder’s good?”

“Any particular reason you’re bein’ so annoyin’ today?”

Tommy feigns offense. “You got fuckin’ shot, Joel. Just makin’ sure you’re okay. Jesus.”

Joel lets out a small huff through his nose. “M’fine,” he assures him. “Shoulder’s good. Still hurts a little and the cold weather ain’t doin’ a whole lot to help, but ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” Sitting back in his saddle, he lets his thighs close around Bandit. “Whoa,” he utters to the animal, his fingers squeezing the reins as he signals for Bandit to come to a halt.

“What’s the matter? Why are we stoppin’?”

“This route’s clear, Tommy. We should turn around and go find the rest of the group. Check and see if the other routes are clear too.” Joel clicks his tongue, prompting Bandit to move again. He steers the stallion and starts turning around to lead them back east, but then stops once more. He glimpses over at Tommy, who hasn’t moved a muscle. Noticing the odd, pensive expression on his face, Joel frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy chews the inside of his cheek, his apprehension written all over his face. “Uh Joel, there’s something we need to talk ‘bout and maybe it’s best if we do it while we’re out here, just the two of us.”

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows pull together. “What is it?”

His brother hesitates. His lips purse together, a sudden look of regret flashing across his features.

“Tommy?” Joel prompts. “The hell’s goin’ on?”

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he states, “You were right.”

“Right ‘bout what?”

“‘Bout Luke.”

Joel freezes in the seat of his saddle.

“You were fuckin’ right ‘bout him mistreatin’ her.”

His grip around the reins tightens, skin stretching thin over his knuckles so tight they’d gone white.

“She was over at mine yesterday afternoon. Ended up tellin’ me and Maria everthin’ ‘bout Luke and what he’s done.” Rolling his lower lip between his teeth, Tommy pauses for a second before repeating, “You were right. You were fuckin’ right ‘bout that bastard from the start and I’m real sorry that I didn’t fuckin’ believe you, Joel.”

Joel’s mind begins to race.

What had prompted you to finally tell Tommy and Maria about the abuse? Did something happen to you that he didn’t know about?

Ellie had been pretty good about keeping him posted. He would ask her about you the very minute she’d walk through the front door after her shift at the stables and she would provide him a full report.

“She’s fine. She ain’t hurt,” Tommy reassures him, as if he’d read his mind. “We’re plannin’ on movin’ her outta the house later on tonight.”

“What?” Finally, Joel speaks, his voice rigid.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “Now, hold on. I need you to give me a minute and let me explain—”

“She told you Luke’s been abusin’ her and you just let her go back to him? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Why didn’t you and Maria fuckin’ stop her?”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ stop her the night you saw the bruise on her?” He shoots back at him. 

Joel stares at him, his lips parting slightly.

How did he fucking know about that? 

“She told us the truth ‘bout the affair too, Joel.”

“She did?”

“She did,” Tommy confirms with a nod. “I had a hunch, y’know. The day of the ambush, I thought I saw panic in her eyes when I told Ellie you’d been shot. Then I saw it again when she saw you there sittin’ on that table with a bullet in your shoulder, but I brushed it off. Thought she was just real worried ‘bout the kid seein’ as those two are thick as fuckin’ thieves, y’know?” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, he can’t help but let out a chuckle when he thinks of you and Ellie. “But now I know she was scared of losin’ you. That girl loves you, Joel. I know you love her too. I’m willin’ to bet it’s the reason you let her walk away that night. Why you kept her secret.”

“Jesus.” Joel exhales a shaky breath. “Y’must think I’m a real fuckin’ coward for knowin’ what he’s been doin’ to her and not doin’ a goddamn thing ‘bout it, huh?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“It’s a complicated situation, brother. She only did what she did for the good of the community. She’s still trying to do what’s best for Jackson, believe it or not. She, uh, she wants us to let Luke stay.”

“She wants you to let him stay?”

“Girl’s got too big of a heart. Doesn’t want the town to be without a doctor.”

“Ain’t no goddamn way you’d let him stay! After all the fuckin’ shit he’s done to her?” When his brother doesn’t respond, Joel narrows his eyes at him. “Jesus Christ. You can’t fuckin’ tell me you’re actually considerin’ it? Are you fuckin’ serious, Tommy? You and Maria would let that son of a bitch stay in Jackson? Knowin’ he’s spent two fuckin’ years puttin’ his hands on his wife?”

“Look here, alright? I don’t like the idea as much as you don’t, and neither does Maria,” he says. “But this ain’t exactly black and white, Joel. I really fuckin’ wish it was. But the hard truth is that Jackson does need a doctor, and unless one magically falls out of the fuckin’ sky, we ain’t got much of a choice here. My wife and child, they might need him, y’know? Maria’s considered a high risk ‘cause of her age. If somethin’ happens and there’s complications when she’s in labor, she and the baby are gonna need him. Our nurses, they ain’t really trained to handle things like that, y’know?”

Joel’s lips press together into a tight, thin line.

Of course it’s black and white to him—because he loves you. You’re his fucking priority. There’s no gray area for him. None.

But Tommy? His priority is Maria and their unborn child.

Joel can’t fault him for that, and he certainly isn’t going to try. But what about you?

“Listen, Joel. I know this is real fuckin’ hard, believe me I do. I care about that girl a lot, a whole fuckin’ lot. I saw her as family long before I knew ‘bout your relationship with her and before I knew she was—”

He stops abruptly, red splotching his cheeks.

Joel still doesn’t know he is going to be a father. Again.

“Before you knew she was what, Tommy?”

“Tommy!” A woman’s voice shouts. “Joel! Over here!”

The two brothers glance over their shoulders and see the rest of their morning patrol group heading towards them.

Tommy bites back a sigh of utter relief. That had been too fucking close.

He turns to Joel, lowering his voice. “Joel, I need you to listen, and listen to me real good. We’ve gotta take this one step at a time. First thing’s first, me and Maria are gonna get her outta that house. She can stay with us at our place for a while. She’ll be safe with us. That much I can promise you.”

“Then what?”

“Don’t know yet. We get her out first and then we figure things out from there. In the meantime, I’m gonna need you to stay calm, Joel. Please. Don’t go off and do somethin’ stupid, alright?”

That had been a lot easier said than done.

Joel needed to talk to you.

He needed to fucking see you. 

But his brother had been adamant.

“Don’t fuckin’ get involved, Joel. Not ‘til we get her out. I don’t want things to fuckin’ explode in our faces, alright? Let me handle this.” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel leans back into the couch and looks down at the guitar in his lap—he’d just spent the last hour carefully polishing it in an effort to keep himself occupied. He thought back to that night you’d come over to gift it to him, how he had kissed you for the first time mere hours before you showed up on his doorstep with your father’s Gibson.

As he gives the guitar a gentle test strum, he recalls the request you made for him to sing you a song and a dull ache settles in his chest, right over his heart. He’ll sing you every song you want to hear, if given the chance.

Part of him is optimistic that he would get the chance.

You were meant to be his. He was meant to be yours.

He just fucking knows it.

Joel’s train of thought is shattered by the sound of the front door opening, and then loudly slamming shut.

“Ellie?” He calls out.

Her voice comes from the hallway. “Yeah?”

“C’mere, kiddo.”

Ellie grumbles incoherently as she walks into the living room, hair disheveled, clothes filthy, and her sneakers caked with muck from the stables.

Joel frowns at her. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Today was just really fucking shitty and while that was a great pun, for once, it was not fucking intended,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you called me in here to ask me about her, I’d save my breath. She stayed home today. She’s sick.”

Joel’s stomach instantly drops. “She’s sick?”

“Yeah. With like a really bad cold or something.”

Putting down the guitar, he questions, “And who told you that?”

“Dina,” Ellie replies, looking puzzled. “She said Luke told her—” She stops abruptly as he jumps to his feet and immediately shoves past her, heading towards the front door. She spins around on her heel, following him. As he flies down the porch and starts down the road towards your house, she is forced to jog along beside him just to keep up with his stride. “What, what? What is it? Fucking answer me, Joel, what is it?”

“She ain’t fuckin’ sick, Ellie.”

“What do you mean she’s not—oh fuck. You don’t think she’s hiding out at home because—?” Ellie’s heartbeat stutters when the realization sinks in. “Luke.”

When the pair arrive at your place, they find a very, very distraught Maria Miller standing on the front porch, her hands wrapped around the doorknob. “Hon, I need you to let me in!” She turns and pulls the knob, desperately. “Please! Open the door for me!”

Your tearful voice comes from the other side. “Go away, Maria!”

The sound of Joel’s boots prompt Maria to turn around. “Joel,” she breathes out his name in relief. “I can’t get her to open the door. Tommy went to see if we have a spare key for the unit. He hasn’t come back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Break a fucking window, maybe?” Ellie snaps at her.

Joel silences her with a glare and then takes Maria by her arms, moving her to stand behind him. “Open the goddamn door!” he commands firmly, pounding his fist harshly against the wood. He can almost feel the way you freeze on the other side the moment you hear the sound of his voice. “Open this fuckin’ door right now!”

Ellie chimes in, “Come on, please open the door!”

“Go away!”

Joel continues to beat his fists against the door. “Show me what he fuckin’ did to you!” He shouts as he drops his hands to the doorknob, clawing at it as if somehow that’s going to do the trick and open the door. “C’mon! Show me what that fuckin’ bastard did to you!”

“Please, go away, all of you! Just leave me alone!”

“You know we can’t do that,” Maria calls. “You’re going to have to open this door and let us—”

Losing what very little patience he has to begin with in the first place, Joel cuts her off. “I will fuckin’ break this door down if I have to,” he threatens. “I’ll cause a scene and let everyone in this whole fuckin’ town know what Luke does to you. Is that what you want?”

He hears the lock click almost instantly.

Finally, you crack the door open and peek out to show them your face. “There, you fucking see?” Your face is blotchy, your eyes red and swollen from crying. “I’m fucking fine! Now fucking go away!”

You try shutting the door, but Joel is too quick and slips the toe of his boot in, wedging it between the door and the doorframe.

“Move, Joel!”

“Nope,” he says, keeping it planted firmly in place.

Not wanting to break his foot, you let up and he shoves his way inside with Ellie and Maria trailing behind him.

Taking a clumsy step backwards, you gather up the front of your knitted cardigan in your trembling hands, bunching it around your neck to conceal it. “Get out! Please, just get out!” you beg them through your sobs. “Please leave! I’m fine! Look at me, I’m perfectly fine—”

Heart hammering painfully against his sternum, Joel walks over and he takes your wrists. “Let me see. Baby, please. Just let me see.” His voice is raw, thick, as if he were on the verge of tears himself. He just knows he’s failed you, failed to keep all those promises he had made about never letting anything bad happen to you. He’s fucking failed. Again. He tries to find your gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. “Let me see,” he chokes out again, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast against the iciness of your own. “I’ll force you if I have to, so please just show me. Please, just fuckin’ show me what he did to you.”

Letting out another agonized sob, you drop your hands and let go of the material, letting it fall back into place at your sides and exposing your injury.

Maria gasps into her hands. “God.” 

“Fuck.” Ellie’s eyes widen in complete horror.

Joel drops your wrists, taking a step backwards as his eyes glaze over the severe discoloration around your neck.

He feels fucking sick to his stomach, but it isn’t until he notices the clear imprint of a square belt buckle on the column of your throat that Joel thinks he might actually be sick all over the floor.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Luke’s voice suddenly echoes through the foyer. He stands near the front door, looking thoroughly confused—that is, until he sees you standing there, exposing what he had done to you the night before with his belt. The very same belt he’s wearing now.

No one has the chance to speak.

No one has the chance to think.

No one even has the chance to breathe.

Joel charges at Luke. He roughly snatches the collar of his jacket and pulls him further into the foyer of the house, away from the open front door so that he has nowhere to run.

You rush towards them. “Joel, stop! No!”

Maria quickly hurries to stop you, grabbing you by the back of your sweater. She yanks you back and out of harm’s way. “Don’t!”

Horrified, you watch as Joel slams Luke straight into the mirror hanging on the wall—head first. He pulls him forward, then slams him back even harder, the impact completely shattering the glass. Hundreds of shards go flying across the hardwood floor.

“Oh shit! Watch out!” Ellie jumps back as a sharp piece of broken glass lands between her sneakers.

“Joel, stop it! Please, stop!” you cry out as Maria grasps your arm to keep you from jumping in the middle of the altercation. “Stop it!”

But Joel is too far gone. Ignoring your desperate cries, he wraps one hand around Luke’s neck, holding him in place. His other hand curls into a tight fist and he starts delivering bone shattering blow after bone shattering blow to his face. “You wanna fuckin’ hit someone?” He snarls as the man’s nose cracks beneath his knuckles. “You wanna fuckin’ put your hands on someone? Huh? Then you fuckin’ put ‘em on me! C’mon, I fuckin’ dare you to put ‘em on me!”

Throwing Luke onto the floor, Joel climbs on top of him and he secures both of his hands around his throat. He feels the uncontrollable urge to do to him what he had done to you—only, unlike Luke, he doesn’t need a belt, and unlike Luke, he isn’t going to stop.

He isn’t going to let him live.

Joel squeezes Luke’s neck, cutting off his oxygen.

“How do you fuckin’ like it,” he hisses, irises going from brown to black as he presses harder on his windpipe. “C’mon, tough guy, tell me how you fuckin’ like it.”

Luke feebly claws and scratches at his hands, gurgling as blood starts coming out of his nose and mouth.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy rushes into the house, his boots scraping against the floor as he skids to halt. Without hesitating, he jumps into action. “Joel, stop! Fuckin’ let him go! Let him go!” He reaches down to pull him off.

“Look at what he did to her! Fuckin’ look at her!”

Tommy turns his attention to you, and the color drains from his face. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes out, shocked by the mark around your neck. He has half a mind to step back and allow Joel to finish the job, but with you, Ellie, and Maria watching on in terror, Tommy doesn’t have a choice. He grabs fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt and tries to tug him off the man he’s about to kill. “Fuckin’ let him go, Joel! Right now! That’s an order!”

Luke’s attempts to fight him off grow weaker. His face is beaten beyond recognition, and there’s a pool of dark red growing under him, dripping from a deep laceration he’d sustained from the being slammed head first into the mirror. His hands fall from around Joel’s wrists. He’s close to losing complete consciousness.

“Joel, let him go!” Tommy bellows. “Now!”

“Tommy, be careful!” Maria warns him, worriedly.

Somehow, he finally manages to peel Joel off Luke. He shoves him up against the nearest wall, pinning him in place. Behind him, Luke coughs and sputters violently, gasping as he frantically tries to breathe some air back into his lungs.

“Fuckin’ let go of me!” Joel growls, his eyes wild as he drives his fists into Tommy’s chest. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him! Let me fuckin’ go!”

Tommy cups Joel’s face in his hands and tries to meet his gaze. “Hey, look at me, I need you to calm the fuck down—I said fuckin’ look at me, Joel!” He demands. “I need you to calm the fuck down. I know that he fuckin’ deserves it, alright? Trust me, it’s takin’ all the strength I’ve got in me not to fuckin’ let go, let you kill the son of a bitch. Hell, there’s a part of me that wants to help you fuckin’ do it! But it ain’t the way we handle things here. M’gonna need you to take a breath and calm down, big brother. If anythin’, just do it for her sake, alright?”

Joel’s chest heaves, his breaths rough and ragged as his eyes flicker over to you. His heart sinks at the sight of you sobbing uncontrollably in Ellie and Maria’s arms.

Groaning, Luke rolls over onto his stomach and spits a mouthful of blood into the floor. “You can fucking have her,” he rasps, looking up at Joel through swollen eyes. “Keep her. Keep the useless little whore.”

Blinded by white hot rage, Joel starts thrashing around in Tommy’s grasp and tries to break loose. “Fuckin’ call her that again you fuckin’ son of a bitch—”

“Shit.” Dropping her arms from around you, Ellie steps forward, standing protectively in front of both you and Maria.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy! M’gonna fuckin’ kill him!”

Maria tucks your face into her shoulder. “Don’t watch.”

“Joel, fuckin’ stop it already!” Tommy struggles to keep him in place. “You’re scarin’ her half to death!”

“I don’t fuckin’ care—”

Tommy’s fingers curl around the collar of his shirt. He slams Joel back against the wall so hard, the mirror, or at least what’s left of it, falls. The square frame breaks in half when it hits the floor.

“Well, you should fuckin’ care! She’s pregnant, Joel.”

You lift your head from Maria’s shoulder. “Tommy.”

Ellie spins around on her heel to face you. She stares at you with wide, round eyes. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

Joel looks over at you. Just as shocked, if not more.

“What?” 

Tommy grabs his chin, forcing his older brother to look at him once more. “It’s true,” he murmurs quietly. “So please, just take a goddamn breath and calm the fuck down. For her sake—and for the sake of your child.” He releases Joel’s shirt and takes a careful step backwards towards Luke, who is still groaning in pain on the floor. Once he realizes Joel isn’t going to charge him again, Tommy turns around and grabs the injured man by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him up to his feet in a rough, careless manner. “Get the fuck up,” he says. He drags him towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Tommy? Where are you taking him?” Maria questions him.

“Town jail. M’gonna throw his sorry ass in a fuckin’ cell and leave him in there ‘til we figure out what to do with him.” He glances over his shoulder. “I’ll get the council together for an emergency meetin’ tonight.”

“Jesus,” Ellie mutters under her breath as soon as they disappear. “Did this really just fucking happen?”

Chest still heaving, Joel glances down at his bloodied, torn knuckles and then turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable.

Maria lightly clears her throat. “We should probably get out of here,” she suggests. “Let’s head on over to mine and Tommy’s while we wait for him to get back.”

“Are you cold?” Ellie asks, worriedly.

She holds up a blue fleece throw blanket she’d dug out from the hallway closet despite you warning her not to snoop around the house while Maria’s in the bathroom tending to Joel’s hand.

Shaking your head, you sigh, “I’m fine.”

“But it’s cold in here.” She drapes the blanket over your hunched shoulders. “Can I get you something? Water? Are you hungry? You should probably eat something—”

“Ellie, please stop with all the fussing.” You pat the spot on the couch beside you. “Just sit here with me. That’s all I need right now.”

Nodding, she sits down and angles herself toward you, getting a closer look at the wound you’d been left with.

“Shit,” Ellie mutters under her breath. Grimacing, she lifts a hand and gingerly presses her fingertips to your neck in disbelief. “Fuck, dude. How bad does it hurt?” She touches a particularly sore spot on the column of your throat and you hiss in pain. She retracts her hand and sputters an apology, “Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Wincing, you assure her, “It’s fine. It’s just a little tender right now, that’s all.”

“A little?” she scoffs.

“Okay, maybe more than a little,” you admit.

Ellie observes you for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“It’ll heal, Ellie. It looks worse than it really is.”

“No, I mean—” Pausing, Ellie moves her hand, placing it on your stomach. “Is the baby okay?”

You glance down at yourself, almost as if you expected to see something different about yourself, but then you remember you’re only about six weeks along and there is nothing to see, no significant changes to your body. Perhaps it’s the reason why there’s a part of you having a hard time grasping that Ellie’s asking if the baby was okay. If your baby is okay.

After a minute, you nod. “Yeah, I think so,” you reply softly, putting a hand over hers.

Relieved, Ellie flashes you a small smile. “Good.”

“How are you two doing in here?” Maria appears in the living room with Joel trailing behind her. His right hand is wrapped up in a white bandage.

“We’re okay.” Ellie glances at Joel. “You okay?”

He gives a quick, subtle nod of his head. “M’fine.”

“We can take her home now, right?” When Ellie doesn’t ge the immediate response she’s seeking, she shoots him a tiny little glare. “She’s coming home with us, isn’t she? I mean, she fucking has to come home with us.”

He still doesn’t answer her question.

All Joel can do is stare at you, jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

“Hey, Ellie, how about we go into the kitchen and make some tea?” Maria beckons to her with her hand.

She snorts. “Seriously? Who the hell wants fucking tea after that fucking shitshow—”

Maria pins her with an exasperated glare. “Ellie.”

“Oh shit, okay. I get it now,” Ellie quickly realizes it’s simply an excuse for the two of them to leave the room. Dropping her hand away from your stomach, she jumps up to her feet and wraps her arms around you. Her hug is brief, but full of warmth and reassurance, as if she’s silently telling you everything’s going to be alright. She releases you and follows Maria to the kitchen, leaving you and Joel alone.

Nervously, you stand up, your knees wobbling.

You feel torn—torn between wanting to run over to him and jump into his arms, and wanting to run away in the opposite direction to find somewhere to bury your head in shame. You’d promised him he had nothing to worry about, swore to him you couldn’t bear a child, and now here you were, carrying his and putting a responsibility on his shoulders he didn’t ask for. A responsibility that, surely, he doesn’t want.

On top of everything else he’d been through with you.

No, because of you. And now this?

Somehow, you muster up enough courage to speak.

“Joel,” you squeak his name. “Say something.”

“You sure you’re pregnant?” He asks, quietly. He stands across the room, making no move to come closer.

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “I’m sure.”

“How long have you known?”

“I only just found out yesterday,” you swear.

“And Tommy and Maria fuckin’ knew before me?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or if he’s disappointed—not that either was a better option than the other.

“I was here with them yesterday in the afternoon. I got sick out of nowhere. Maria’s the one who suspected it and suggested I take a pregnancy test when I realized I haven’t had my period since August. After the first time that you and I—well, you know.” Shifting from one foot to the other, you continue to explain, “It never even fucking crossed my mind, Joel. I didn’t notice anything. I didn’t notice the symptoms. Missing my period, the dizziness, and the nausea. I was so busy trying to keep myself from fucking falling apart without you that it all went right over my head.”

Joel’s harsh expression suddenly softens.

“I took the test. When the results turned out positive, I just lost it. I fucking lost it, and I told Tommy and Maria everything because I was scared.” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips out from the corner of your eye, rolling down the side of your face. Several more threaten to follow, but you blink them back. “They offered to help me, Joel. They wanted to get me out of the house last night, but I was too fucking stubborn. I didn’t listen to them. I thought I’d be fine for one more night, but when Luke came home, he wanted to be intimate with me.”

Joel sucks in a sharp breath. His anger boils in his veins all over again. “And did he—he touch you like that?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t let him. I couldn’t let him. I told him not to touch me and I pushed him away.”

“Then what happened?”

“I told him that it was over. That our marriage was over and I was leaving. That’s when he took off his belt and he—” Gesturing to your throat, you start sobbing again as images of the night before flood your mind.

Luke had done pretty horrific things to you before, but this? 

This had been the worst of them. He almost killed you.

“Baby.” Joel rushes over to you and pulls you right into his arms. “Shh, darlin’. S’alright,” he soothes. “S’alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Whimpering, you met into his touch, the very touch you have been missing with every fiber of your being. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you croak into his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulls away slightly, peering down at you. “Sorry? For what?” Without even giving you the chance to answer, he assures you, “There ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for, sweet girl. Alright?”

You let out a tearful scoff. “Joel, I’m pregnant. And it’s fucking yours,” you remind him, the guilt in your tone loud and clear. “Don’t you remember how worried you were about it? And how I told you that you had nothing to be concerned about?”

“Don’t put it all on yourself, peach.”

You almost smile.

Oh, how you’ve missed hearing him call you that.

“Look, this is on me too, baby. Part of me knew there was still a possibility, but I didn’t care. All I cared ‘bout was makin’ you mine every fuckin’ chance I got.” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face. He chuckles nervously and says, “Y’know, at one point, I kinda thought I was at the age where I’m shootin’ blanks more than anythin’ else. Guess we were both wrong, huh?”

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “And if you’re worried I’m upset ‘bout you bein’ pregnant, you’re wrong ‘bout that too, darlin’.”

Surprised, you blurt, “You mean, you want the baby?”

Now it's his turn to be taken aback.

“Y’thought I wouldn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” you confess, sheepishly. “I thought you would be mad about this, if I’m being honest, Joel. I wasn’t sure if you’d even want anything to do with it.” Noticing he’d taken some offense to the notion that he wouldn’t want his own child, you exhale a small sigh and place a hand on his chest. “Come on, Joel, can you honestly blame me? When you were the one who was so damn worried about me getting knocked up in the first place? Wouldn’t you have thought the same if you were me?”

He grazes your cheek with his thumb. “Can’t lie to you, sweetheart. I probably would have.” Letting his hand fall away from your face, Joel takes a seat on the couch and pulls you down onto his lap. “Sure as hell wasn’t in my plans to have another kid in my fuckin’ fifties. But y’know, the idea of having a little one runnin’ around, it ain’t all that fuckin’ bad.” He pauses, adding with a faint grin, “‘Specially if he or she happens to look like you.”

Relieved, you lean into his chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. 

“You alright?” Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Burying your face into his neck, you breathe him in. “I am now that I’m with you,” you confess as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tighter than he ever has before.

“M’gonna take real good care of you, darlin’. Both of you,” Joel reassures you, softly. “Nothin’s gonna hurt you, baby. S’long as you’re with me, nothin’ or no one is ever gonna hurt you ever again. Swear it on my life.”

[abyssruler]

CONGRATS ON 3K!!! May i ask albedo + normal au + soulmate + fluff? I don't have any other ideas so plot is up to you! I'll be happy with whatever you write 🫶🫶

of inks and six toes

albedo x gn!reader

in a world where anything you write on your skin appears on your soulmate’s skin, albedo finds that much unlike his initial expectations, he does have a soulmate, and one that he’s surprised to admit he genuinely enjoys conversing with.

soulmate au, comedy, fluff, written for my 3k event!

Albedo learns how to pen words on his skin long before he learns how to write them on paper.

His master has always encouraged this little habit. Notes, reminders, and quick calculations done on the smooth skin of his arm, hands, and on the days where he’s covered in warm clothing from head to toe, his cheeks.

He’s always been curious, always one to voice out questions—this, too, is a habit his master encourages—but he’s never thought to ask why he must write more on his skin than on paper. It was simply a way of life. You sit on a chair, you drink on a cup, you bend the laws of physics using the forbidden art of khemia, and you write inconsequential things to your skin.

Must check test tube #32 on 06:45 and observe any difference, he writes to the inside of his wrist.

With every year that passes, his master becomes more and more displeased with him, claiming his lack of progress, but Albedo doesn’t understand. He’s been doing exceptionally well, excelling in his studies and furthering his knowledge with research, he’s even acquired the small hobby of sketching. He doesn’t understand which aspect he’s lacking in.

It isn’t until years later, when his master deems him mature enough to accompany her in one of her supply trips in a nearby town, that he learns about soulmates. And only five months after that trip does he finally understand what his master meant by progress.

There, written near an absentminded reminder by the inside of his wrist, is a shaky scrawl akin to that of a child’s.

Wat deos experiment meen?

✧

Albedo learns a lot of things within the span of a few months after his soulmate finally responds to him.

The first being that his master seems to be more satisfied with him lately. After the initial shock of the revelation that a synthetic human such as himself would even possess a soulmate, he hurried to show his master the scribbles you made on his wrist. Her threats of leaving him should he fail a certain task has also lessened, almost to a nonexistent degree. Perhaps having a soulmate is the greatest proof of life an artificial person like him could have.

The second is that he never knew talking to someone would be something he would find himself looking forward to everyday. To form relations such as friendship and actively put in the effort to maintain it were not things he anticipated to be this enjoyable. Or perhaps it’s because the person he’s speaking to—rather, writing to, is you, his soulmate.

And lastly, within the first few minutes of conversing with you, Albedo discovers that you are young. Incredibly so, in fact.

…Not that he’s in any position to call anyone young, being that he’s barely a decade old despite looking like a young man already. He supposes he should be thankful to have been born with fully functional limbs and motor skills, his master isn’t exactly the best caretaker for a child, much less a good parental figure (never mind that he already thinks of her as his mother).

hau old ar yu?

How old are you, he corrects, all while mentally calculating exactly how old he is. His master would know down to the very last second, but he can’t bother her with something as mundane as this. Truthfully, the first few years of his life were spent learning as much as he could about the world and alchemy, such that he never took much note of his age until he learned the concept of birthdays. He thinks his master celebrated him being a decade old about a month ago—and by celebrate he means she let him sketch as much as he liked and gave him a break on his studies.

He estimates that he is about ten. Probably.

So that’s what he answers to his soulmate, he does you the favor of writing it in numerical form to make it easier to read.

wow yur old! The words come alive on the back of his hand slowly, each letter uneven and some even written backwards.

You’re, he corrects, more out of habit than any real desire to teach you proper grammar, and 10 isn’t that old. Once you get older, you’ll find that 10 is considered quite young.

It takes you a while to respond, and within that time frame, Albedo finishes transferring a heated whooperflower extract into a test tube. It’s an exercise in patience, and thankfully he has plenty of it. He regrets not using easier words for you to understand, but erasing the ink on his hand and writing new ones will probably confuse you more than you already are.

okey! papa sed im 5 yeers old, turneeng 6 tomorow

You must be very smart to be able to read and write already at that age. I’ll make sure to wish you a happy birthday tomorrow, he replies.

It takes another few minutes for you to write back. but you’re smarter then me so wen did you read and write?

Albedo lets himself feel the slightest hint of pride at how you spelled ‘you’re’ correctly this time around. You’re a quick learner.

I learned before I turned a year old, but please don’t tell anyone. Not that anyone would believe you if you said your soulmate learned how to read and write (and transmigrate a small branch into a flower) before he was one, but better to be safe than sorry.

oohh is this wat mama cals a secret?

Yes, it is, and I would be very happy if you kept it.

okey! i wont tel enywon! :)

Thank you.

He spends the next few minutes making light conversation with you, occasionally correcting your spelling and explaining any concept you seem confused about—until his master berates him for neglecting his work, and he has to bid you a hasty goodbye and apology. You’re quick to understand his circumstances, even as young as you are, only writing a goodbye next to his with a small, misshapen heart that he strangely finds adorable.

The next day, right as the clock turned to 00:00, he writes Happy Birthday on each side of his cheek. His master raises a brow when she sees it, but the excited little drawings you write on your wrist more than makes up for the humiliation.

✧

Tomorrow is my first day of school!

Your grammar and spelling have improved drastically within the span of a year. Albedo deduces you’ll be outdoing your peers in class. Not that he’s the best judge for how a child would normally develop mentally, but from what he’s read, you’re clearly very advanced.

Good luck.

Thanks! I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow :D

I look forward to it, and he finds that he does indeed look forward to it.

✧

Hey soulmate what nation are you from?

You’ve developed the habit of calling him that due to his lack of interest in sharing his name.

Aren’t you in class right now?

Yeah but it’s boring :( tell me more about alchemy

You said yesterday that you find alchemy boring as well, he points out.

But alchemy’s the less boring subject

You should still pay attention in class.

Poopy head. Oh no the teacher is look———

✧

Who is Mondstadt’s god?

The Anemo Archon, though if we’re referring to his name, it’d be Barbatos.

What’s the name of Sneshneya’s capital?

Snezhnaya, he corrects, and it’s Zapolyarny.

And many more such questions, most of them only needing the most basics of knowledge.

Albedo answers them all dutifully, wondering whether this is a test to see how knowledgable he is regarding Teyvat. His master would not be pleased to see him idling about, doing nothing as he waits for his soulmate to write back to him instead of spending his time doing research.

Wow! I’m the only one who scored perfectly on the test!

His eyebrows rise, an idea forming in his mind at the same time as amusement.

A test? he writes back.

Yeah, for my school! You’re so smart! Thank you, soulmate ♡

Something swells in his chest. Warm and pleasant that leaves in him a sense of satisfaction he might akin to the feeling he gets after a successful experiment, or that of the heat that settles in his stomach after a hearty meal during a cold, winter day.

Fondness, he decides, it is fondness.

You’re most welcome. Although next time it would be better to consult me while you’re studying so you would not have to resort to cheating.

Hey! It’s not cheating, it’s called using the resources you have to your advantage.

He has to stifle a smile at how clever you’ve become. Though not clever enough to answer your own tests, it seems.

Using my words against me?

Of course, I learned from the best!

Learned…

To be able to impart knowledge upon others, it is something he had not thought possible until recent years, not with how isolated he is and his only human contact being his master. It is amongst many other less shallow reasons that he is glad to have met you.

To be able to influence others by teaching them what he knows. It is a wishful thought, but he thinks he’d like to do such a thing in the future.

✧

Aunt Alice just gave birth to a baby girl! Her name’s Klee and she’s so fat, are all babies this fat?

Albedo spends a long time staring at his wrist before managing to snap himself out of his haze.

He doesn’t believe in coincidences, but what are the odds that this Alice you were speaking of is the same Alice who just sent a letter to his master the other day about how she finally spawned a daughter. If they so happen to be the same person, then fate truly has a strange sense of humor, though perhaps he should have known that from the moment fate decided a homunculus should have a soulmate.

Yes, he finally responds, a little plumpness isn’t considered fat; in fact, it’s often a sign of healthiness. Also, please don’t call the baby fat right to her mother’s face.

Too late! Aunt Alice just laughed and agreed with me. Isn’t she the best?

He shakes his head in amusement and distantly notes how your Aunt Alice’s personality seems to align with his master’s friend.

✧

I’m joining the Knights of Favonius.

He blinks at the sight that greets him first thing in the morning.

Ah. Well, he supposes this finally confirms all his suspicions of you hailing from Mondstadt.

The clues were there, practically spoon-fed to him, from the innocuous mentions of a certain flower or the structure of a building you found ridiculous, but he didn’t want to form a solid conclusion until you confirmed it yourself.

Is there a particular reason for this decision?

I just feel a bit inadequate. I’m already fifteen but one of my friends has been a captain at the Knights since last year. I’m stuck here stagnating while the rest of my peers move on.

Albedo isn’t the best at comforting people. Years of isolation and limited contact have made socialization one of the fields he doesn’t excel at. He can be a bit tactless, as you once said. He’ll try though, for you.

You don’t need to conform to other people’s standards. Each person moves at their own pace. You needn’t pressure yourself by placing such high expectations on your shoulders. He ponders more on what he could say, until a thought occurs so he adds, With that said, do you want to join the Knights of Favonius or are you merely joining because you feel that you have to?

It takes you a good few minutes to write back. He patiently waits for you to compose an answer, abandoning the on-going experiment he has on the workbench in favor of investing his full attention to you.

Yeah, I think I do want to. Not just because I think I should, but I really want to join.

Then I wish you luck on your future endeavors.

He was about to turn back to his neglected experiment when he sees ink forming on his inner wrist.

And soulmate? you write, your handwriting shaky in a way he hasn’t seen since you were young.

Worried, he hastily scribbles, Yes?

I think I Thank you :)

✧

What should we say to each other if we ever meet in person?

Would you mind elaborating?

I dunno, cause I like to think I’d recognize your handwriting anywhere—and it better be the same case with you! So maybe we should have a secret phrase between us to identify each other.

I’m not very imaginative when it comes to these things. How about you think of a phrase?

Okay! How about this: Barbatos has six toes.

Pardon?

No one in Mond would ever think to say such a thing, which means no one would ever say it out of the blue and confuse us. It’s perfect!

Ah, I see. Alright, if that’s what you wish.

See this is why I lo you’re my favorite person ever :D

✧

Congratulations on being promoted to captain.

Thanks!! Only took about three years, of course, but totally worth the time and effort! I can finally boss people around :)

Please don’t.

No promises!

✧

I got a vision!

That’s a sign of acknowledgement from the gods, or so they say. Would you like me to congratulate you?

No need for that. Just try and guess which element I got!

Pyro.

How’d you guess so quickly?!

The element suits you. Passionate and driven, it was only a matter of time before you were given one.

I really heh who knew you thought so highly of me?

Who wouldn’t?

✧

I’m going to be busy for the next few days traveling.

Okay stay safe!

My master has entrusted me with a heavy task. This is the first time I

You’re going to do great. You’re the smartest and most capable person I know, soulmate!

Thank you.

✧

“So, this new guy, he’s an alchemist?”

“Yes, and apparently a very good one,” Jean answers your question, walking with you side by side as you make your way to the entrance of the Favonius Headquarters to meet this ‘Albedo’ fellow. Well, more like Jean’s on her way to meet him while you’re on your way home.

“Huh. Reminds me of someone I know,” you muse.

She looks at you with amusement. “You mean your soulmate?”

You laugh sheepishly. “I never shut up about him, do I?”

“That’s an exaggeration, I’d say you’re just very in love with him.”

“What?!” you screech, whipping your head towards her.

Jean laughs into her hand. “You’re not fooling anyone with how excited you get whenever he writes back to you.”

“I-I mean,” you deflate in defeat. “I guess it is kinda obvious…” you sigh, only to straighten when you reach the massive doors of the entrance of the Headquarters.

There’s a person with ash blond hair standing right by its awning, looking over something in a clipboard. He turns at the sound of your approaching footsteps. Your eyes meet, and within that brief moment of contact, it feels like you’ve known this stranger your entire life.

Jean greets him. He nods his head at her and introduces himself. She then turns to you, “I’m assigning you to be his guide for the next few days. Be kind, alright?”

Your jaw drops. “Wha—why me?”

“Because you’re the closest available captain in the area,” she answers with an uncharacteristically sly smile. Oh, you lament, she really needs to spend less time with Lisa.

“Fine, but I can’t do it today. I promised Klee we’d go exploring this afternoon,” you concede.

“It’s settled then!” Jean claps her hand before giving the two of you an encouraging smile and leaving briskly. What a busy lady…

You then turn to Albedo who’s been silently watching your interaction, and you find him looking at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t quite discern. Shaking off his strange behavior, you pull out a pen and offer your hand to him. He looks at it curiously before placing his hand into your palm.

“May I ask what this is for?”

You uncap the pen. “Just gonna write down the time I’m free tomorrow, y’know, so you don’t forget.”

“I see.”

Writing on the palm of his hand almost feels wrong. Somehow. A strange feeling you can’t quite place.

It’s probably the spoiled milk you drank earlier.

“And there! Now that’s done, I just need to…” you trail off, seeing a blot of ink in the palm of your hand.

Excitement fills you. Abandoning your new acquaintance in favor of putting all your attention to the new words in your palm, you don’t notice the look of realization that crosses Albedo’s face once he sees what you’ve written on his hand.

1:30PM, Tuesday on the…

Your mind blanks.

You don’t read much beyond that.

This.

This is your handwriting.

But you didn’t write this on your hand, you wrote this on—

Turning a shocked look to Albedo, who if your suspicions are correct, is your soulmate, you find him looking at you with that same wide-eyed look mirrored in your face.

After a few moments of staring, something seems to occur to him.

“Oh, right,” he suddenly speaks up.

He grabs your hand—the same one that has your free time tomorrow written on it—and looks at you with such seriousness, you couldn’t have possibly hoped to predict what he was about to say next.

“Barbatos has six toes,” Albedo says with a straight face before furrowing his brows in question. “That’s our phrase, isn’t it?”

Finding your soulmate unexpectedly, finally getting to hold his hand after fantasizing about it for so long, and him saying those damned words you’d meant as a joke all those years ago.

You can’t help it anymore.

You burst out laughing.

3k word count

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

🗒️ Vandal 🗒️

Word Count: 16,000+ (And nobody asked for any of it!)

Summary: A quiet high school student looks a little too closely at the tragic events afflicting their hometown. Can you uncover the truth while keeping your own secrets hidden? Or will a lapse in judgment expose you to a world of hurt? || Kol x disabled!reader || Here lies my Masterlist

Warnings: Some language, references to blood and gore, Kol being a psycho, and some dubious consent but nothing violent or graphic. This turned out a little more Yandere than I intended. Just expect ya gal's general tomfoolery.

A/N: Howdy-doo, this is your captain speaking. I know I promised a lot of you that I would have the sequel to Run for Your Life finished last week, but it's still not done and I'm really sorry. I wrote this instead. Please forgive me. I hate letting y'all down but inspiration has been really low as of late and, as some of you know, I've been facing some very serious struggles with people in my life. My sense of self-worth has been suffering, but writing this fic has been my best escape. So again, I'm really sorry to those who were expecting the Klaus fic, but I hope you like this one nonetheless.

🗒️ Story Begins Below 🗒️

When Niklaus Mikaelson confined himself to his studio, it was common knowledge among all parties of blood relation to the original hybrid that any sibling who valued their breathing privileges should promptly vacate the premises until such a time as that tortured artist ceased muttering his internal monologue aloud. 

Kol, for one, was quite fond of his breathing privileges, thank you very much. 

Ugh, breathing. 

The one thing he’d never thought would require adjusting to through the centuries was now yet another factor among a dozen others that required getting used to. 

The air of this new age he’d found himself in was thick and hazy with chemicals and other nonsense he didn’t care to think about. Drawing the filthy mixture into his lungs required significantly more effort from him than it used to. He wondered vaguely how the humans surrounding his seat at the bar of this stodgy town’s only decent restaurant did it with such ease. It must’ve been tiring. Perhaps that was why so many of the patrons around him seemed content to spend their morning religiously devoted to quaffing down as much of that - oh, what had Mary-Alice called it? - caffeine stuff as they could possibly contain. 

Though the name would suggest otherwise, Kol figured the only way the Mystic Grill, as the place was called, could remain in business was to serve breakfast, lunch, dinner, and drinks. Hence why the place was packed with half-conscious teenagers at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, stopping off for something to eat on their way to school. How did Rebekah enjoy this? Though she’d accompanied him to the grill, Kol’s sister had been quick to grab her coffee and ditch him. She wanted to arrive to school early so she could “talk”. (The notion tempted Kol to impale himself on a billiard cue.) 

Rebekah was also rather upset with him, or more specifically, his newfound enrollment in her high school. There was nothing he could do about that, however. If it was up to him, Kol would choose to spend his time literally any place else. Unfortunately for him, after that little incident with Rebekah’s date, mother dearest had been contemplating ways to keep him in line. High school was evidently what she’d come up with. It was Finn’s idea actually. Kol’s eldest brother - dull lout that he was - had suggested that perhaps attending high school with his sister would provide a convenient way for Kol to catch up on recent history, as well as assist him in developing some control over his appetite seeing as each family member had given their word not to shed the blood of any locals. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Esther had done more than just readily agree. She’d also cast a tracking spell on him. If he strayed beyond the town’s limits, she would know. 

Rest assured, he would find a way to weasel out of it - that was certain. But for now, Kol was stumped. This resurrected version of his mother wasn’t quite so dismissive of him as she’d been in Kol’s human life. He should have liked that - should have reveled in it. Yet, having her attention this time around came with a cold harshness he wasn’t so fond of. For now though, he would have to endure his punishment. Thanks to Klaus, he couldn’t even skip out.

Thus Kol found himself in an overly crowded restaurant, at six in the morning on his first day of school, surrounded by teenagers.

Kol desperately wished he could eat one or two of them. 

They were so rowdy and obnoxious. The whole world it seemed had grown significantly louder since he’d been daggered in nineteen fourteen. So much information assaulting his senses constantly. It was maddening. Being surrounded by thirty or so warm bodies didn’t exactly help. The chorus of their heartbeats fell on his sensitive ears like the cresting of ocean waves and like a riptide, he would surely be carried away if he allowed himself to listen much longer. 

The boy’s throat burned. He was hungry. Always hungry. He could practically taste the relief on his tongue. The high he could get from just one little cheerleader…

Kol got up from his seat, grabbed his bag, and shoved his way out the door, cursing Finn’s name to Hel and back. He reached the end of the street and stopped. Raking his fingers through his hair, Kol rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath.

Wrong move.

A gentle autumn breeze swept past and carried with it a hint of something sweet. No, that was too tame. That scent on the air was like pure sugar and spring water, something like berries and roses and cotton candy all rolled into one supremely tempting aroma so overpowering he nearly choked. White hot pain shot through him and his mouth watered. He was standing in the midst of town square before he even realized he’d moved. 

There, kneeling hunched over on the ground, all alone in the early morning, was a young woman who looked about the same age as he did. Any view of her face was obscured by the curtain of her hair as it fell around her in something of an untamed mess. Her clothes, nothing fancier than a t-shirt and shorts, were rumpled and irreparably stained with just about every color one could imagine as she focused intently on whatever she was doing. Scattered all around her were about a dozen cans of paint and at least a hundred individual sticks of chalk in a variety of shades. She was decorating the walkways, Kol realized as he watched her dip her hand directly into one of the cans of paint before slathering the color over the flagstones she was working on. Once satisfied that the area was evenly covered, she sat up.

The girl paused to wipe her hand on a wet rag before shuffling back around to a different section where the paint looked a little drier. 

Kol had just enough time to register the pattern of scrapes that decorated her hands and knees before that delicious scent washed over him again. It was stronger now that he was so close and like a punch to the gut, just a whiff of it knocked the wind out of him. His throat seared and his fangs ached. She was right there in front of him, trickles of blood seeping from her hands and knees - rivers of temptation. Whatever ichor was rushing through that girl’s veins would certainly be divine. Kol wanted it. He wanted to taste her warm human skin - wanted to lick the scarlet from those teasing little scrapes she’d made. No one was around. He could have that sweet, sweet crimson ambrosia all to himself. 

There was just one problem. This girl was a local. Her residence was clear from the tags dangling from her backpack which she’d tossed a few feet away. Kol couldn’t eat any of the locals, he’d given his word on it. 

Unfortunately for him, that boy’s sense of honor apparently wasn’t enough to keep his legs from moving. He was standing over her shoulder in a matter of seconds. His looming shadow must have caught her attention because the girl paused her work (she was rubbing lines of chalk into the paint now) and twisted around to look up at him, squinting against the rising sun at his back. Her cheeks were twinged with a delicious shade of pink, likely due to the warm, humid morning, and she smiled in a friendly, albeit slightly confused way.

“Hey!” She greeted - voice practically a chirp. The girl lifted a hand to her face in an effort to further block out the sun, but the offensive light couldn’t dampen her smile. Kol fought the urge to roll his eyes at her sunny disposition.

“Good morning, darling.” He flashed her a grin - the crooked one that made girls like her faint. Kol gestured to the swirling mix of hues currently stinging his eyes. “What’s this going to be?” 

The girl blinked and tilted her head. “Could you say that a little louder?” She asked. Her voice was soft but rich with a delicate, wispy quality to it like a warm caramel stretched apart. He supposed it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to listen to.

“Are you painting something specific or is it more abstract?” He wondered, raising his voice a little. Abstract was certainly the most polite term for eyesore, he thought. 

“Oh, uh, yeah! It’s Mystic Falls,” She said brightly. Then she paused. Her face scrunched up a bit and even Kol could admit it was a little endearing. “Um, I mean, not the town, but like, the falls as in the waterfalls… yeah.” Her voice tapered off into a whisper at the end and she cast her eyes away. 

Kol hummed. “I see.” He didn't actually care, however. He’d seen enough. This girl, tantalizing as her blood might be, wasn’t worth his time - nor his mother’s wrath should he break his oath. There was no thrill in chasing someone like that, girls like her gave in too easily. 

Without warning, the little artist stiffened and whipped her head back up to face him, drawing Kol from his thoughts. 

“Say, what’s the time?” She wondered, biting her lip anxiously. Her lips looked rather tasty when she did that.

Kol raised a brow and checked his watch. “Ten to seven,” He answered. 

She cocked her head again. “Sorry, what?”

“Ten to seven,” He repeated a little louder.

“Huh?”

“Bloody hell!” The boy huffed. “It’s six-fifty! Are you Deaf?”

She snorted. “Uh, huh. Yeah.” Kol’s eyes narrowed but the girl only turned her head, shoving a lock of hair back to reveal some technological array perched over her ear. The artist shrugged and faced him again. “It’s the accent, I think. Plus, it ain’t my fault you mumble. What time did you say it was again? I forgot.”

It wasn’t the disability that annoyed him, he wasn’t that shallow. It was her attitude he couldn’t stand. 

“Six. Fifty. One,” He ground out through clenched teeth.

Her eyes widened. “CRAP!” 

The annoying little artist sprang to her feet, scooped her bag from where she’d flung it, and dashed off just like that. He huffed at her lack of tact - not so much as a word of thanks. It was probably best for both of them if they never saw each other again. That mouth-watering ray of sunshine was unlikely to survive another encounter with him.

As he debated whether or not to just wander around aimlessly for the remainder of the day, Kol caught sight of an object that must have tumbled out of the artist’s bag. Only the slightest bit curious, he bent down to pick it up. Upon taking a closer look at it, Kol raised a brow. Well worn and faded, the sketchbook in his hands was nothing special - almost every artist had one, that was no surprise. What caught his attention, however, was the design on the cover, or more accurately, what had been made of it. Whereas the front of the sketchbook had once depicted a quaint scene from what he recognized to be the story Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, with little Alice looking up at the Cheshire Cat perched lazily in a tree, the girl had turned it into something far more sinister. 

For one thing, she’d given Alice a broadsword. Her dress had been redecorated with dirt stains and blood. As for the Cheshire Cat, the artist had transformed the feline into a marionette with blood-stained teeth and dreadful claws. The background had been scribbled out with a black marker. All save for a grinning silhouette, tugging at the strings of its Cheshire Cat puppet, and a line of bold, bloody letters spelling out the phrase: “We’re All Mad Here.”

It was a delightfully grotesque perversion of a story Kol had rather enjoyed reading when it was first published. Perhaps that girl wasn’t quite so boring after all. 

Kol smirked and slipped the sketchbook into his own school bag. Serves her right for being so disrespectful. Besides, the book was steeped in that exquisite aroma of hers, and if he couldn’t devour the poor thing then keeping a little memento was his next best option. If she wanted it back, she’d simply have to prove herself deserving of it. Until then, that little book of horrors was all his.

Who knows what he might do with it?

No matter what, this was bound to be… entertaining.

***

You’d never liked cheerleaders. They’d always seemed so shallowly chipper - the sort of nice that giggles behind a person’s back. Most people said you were just jealous, wishing you could have their beauty, body, or popularity. They were wrong, of course, cheerleading simply wasn’t your thing. As for appearances, at least you were confident enough in your looks that you didn’t require validation from fellow minors. You never corrected the masses though. You let them think whatever they want. (After all, you had other, more important things on your mind.)

All feelings about cheerleaders aside, they were excellent subjects for drawing poses. It was them or the football team and you couldn’t be paid enough to go anywhere near them. Besides, you had already obtained permission from the members of the cheer squad to sit in on their practices. They figured you must have been lonely and seeking their approval. You didn’t correct them either. The girls on the squad were nice enough, though you didn’t know any of them very well. Just some first names. 

Caroline, Bonnie, Amber, Laura, Rebekah. 

Now that Rebekah was an odd one. She sort of unnerved you. Like the rest, the British blonde was nice enough, but something about her wasn’t quite right. She’d just dropped off the map for a month and a half and then showed up today as if she’d never been gone. Then there was her relationship with the other cheerleaders. Half of them avoided her like the plague and the other half worshiped the ground she walked on. It wasn’t normal.

Life isn’t like the drama shows all over tv. Kids in the real world don’t act that way. 

You hadn’t grown up in Mystic Falls. Your parents moved your family into town one year ago. Though you were just a sophomore then, you knew enough to understand that something about this whole town and everything that had been happening within the last year just wasn’t right. Within your sophomore and junior years alone, no less than twenty-six kids were reported missing. At least six were later confirmed dead.

Was it really any wonder you kept to yourself? 

You were fine with being alone. It didn’t bother you. 

What bothered you was that you had somehow lost track of your sketchbook. That bundle of pages hardly ever left your person. You never went anywhere without it, and yet when you had sat on the bleachers and reached into your backpack to pull it out, lo and behold, it was nowhere to be found. Who knew what small-town hic had gotten their grubby little hands on it? 

Alright, that was mean. You just wanted your book back. The idea of someone else flipping through your sketches irked you to no end.

“Well hello again, darling!” A semi-familiar voice rang out from behind you on the bleachers and you twisted around to face him. Had that kid been up there all this time? The boy grinned down at you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You offered him a tight smile. 

“Yeah,” You said quietly. “Fancy that.”

The boy was pretty, that was for sure. Dark hair, dark eyes, a strong brow, and a sharp jawline. Not to mention that smile, you’d sooner light yourself on fire than call it “dazzling” but you would like to draw it sometime. All in all, he was probably the closest thing to masculine perfection you would ever lay eyes upon. But you weren’t dumb enough to judge a person off of looks alone. 

Though you had nothing to go off of aside from your brief meeting that morning, you didn’t quite like that kid. On the surface, he seemed alright. A little impatient but still pretty normal. It was the way he looked at you… it reminded you of the feeling you got back in your old town whenever you noticed that your best friend's pet boa constrictor was watching you from inside its tank - how its eyes would follow you no matter what you did. It wasn’t an exactly pleasant sensation. Those onyx eyes of his - when you looked into them, you couldn’t see much of a person looking back. His eyes sparkled when he smiled but behind them… behind them there was nothing. A charming grin without a person inside.

The boy’s odd smile only broadened. 

“You know, I-I didn’t take you for the cheerleading type,” He said. You tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear, squinting against the sun in your eyes. Did he always have to position himself so you had to blind yourself to look at him?

“I’m… not.”

He chuckled. “Obviously.” Climbing to his feet, the boy hopped up onto the seat in front of him and walked gracefully down to your level - at least, as gracefully as one can while walking on bleachers. You should probably warn him about the-

“Careful, that next one wobbles,” You spoke up. Your voice never seemed to come out as loud as you intended, yet he didn’t seem to have a problem catching it. 

“Ah-” He tested the next row with his foot and stepped over it lightly. “Thank you very much.” He grinned again as he jumped down beside you.

The boy was much too close for your liking. 

“You’re welcome,” You mumbled, shuffling away slightly. He only leaned in closer.

“So, if you’re with the cheerleaders, but you’re not one of them, then what does that make you?” He wondered, oblivious or insensitive to your discomfort. You couldn’t tell which. “Unrequited lover or wannabe?”

He raised a brow, smirking in a way that appeared bemused but you could sense its condescending edge. You just shrugged. He could think whatever he wanted. 

He was baiting you, that you were sure of. The dark-haired senior wanted you to answer. He waited for you to answer. But his was a lure you weren't going to bite.  You just kept on drawing - filling in lines, and fine-tuning expressions. You were sure he would give up eventually, kids like him always did.

“Are those your chemistry notes?” He asked finally. 

You hummed and nodded. You’d never been too much of a talker. It had nothing to do with your hearing loss, or maybe it did. That was just who you were either way.

“And you’re sketching in them?”

You shrugged. “Lost my sketchbook.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” At least he had the decency to sound sympathetic. “Did you have it this morning?” You nodded. This boy was persistent, you would give him that. He kept talking. “I see… Well, I'm sorry to hear that, darling. I would have loved to see it,” He said. 

Your lips twitched up in a smile. You wouldn’t have shown him anyway, but that didn’t matter.

“Thanks,” You whispered.

"You never answered my question," He pointed out. He was trying to get to you - get closer to you - and while any other girl would do backflips for the attention of a boy like him, you weren't any other girl. If he wanted to know you, then you couldn't let that happen. If you did, he might figure out your secret. Then you could lose everything - your education, your clean record, and the only money-making opportunity you were likely to get in this tiny, provincial town.

"I know." You sighed and closed your substitute sketchbook, just a little fed up. Maybe it was time to let the sunny, shy-girl facade drop. Perhaps a quick glimpse of who you really were would deter him. "But you're here too. So which are you? Unrequited lover or wannabe?"

The boy threw his head back and laughed, loud and clear. His laugh sounded like a stone splashing into a calm pond. Sudden and unique - one of a kind. When his gaze returned to you, he seemed to look you over as if reevaluating his previous judgment of your character. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and shrugged. 

"That's a fair point you make there, darling. I'll have to disappoint you, however, as I am merely here to pick up my sister." He gestured to the girls practicing on the field and then shot you a smirk. The boy held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, darling. I'm Kol, Kol Mikaelson.”

Your eyes flicked to his outstretched hand, weary.

"I…" 

Glancing up, you met the endless black pits that were his eyes. Your stomach felt queasy. Better to be safe than sorry.

You pushed his hand away. "I… don't particularly care." 

Without another word, you packed up your things and skipped down the bleachers. Exiting left of the football field. 

Perhaps you'd left him stunned. You didn't bother looking back to check.

You started seeing Kol quite often after that, which wouldn't have been weird had he not been a year above you. If it wasn't coincidence that saw you sharing both lunch period and study hall with him, then you didn't want to think about what it was. He kept his distance, which you appreciated. Kol didn't approach you for a while, but whenever you were in the same room with him you couldn't seem to shake a feeling that you were being watched. Closely. 

The day that pattern changed was the day you walked down the hall and found yourself greeted by photocopies of your art taped to every locker. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes landed on that first row of metal doors. The papers fluttered in the wind generated by passing students but you would recognize your art anywhere. 

It was one of the pages from your sketchbook - one of the sketches no one was supposed to see. 

This one depicted the football team, gathered on the field for practice. The sky above was dark and they had their helmets off. Each player's complexion was ghostly pale and their glowing red eyes all stared soullessly at the viewer. Their expressions displayed no emotion, but together they stood in a threatening formation. You had taken inspiration from both classic zombie movies and The Matrix for that sketch. In the top left corner, you had etched the title. You called it "The Hive." 

The only problem was, you hadn't exactly obtained the team's permission to draw it. 

To make matters worse, someone had added an inscription to the image that read: "Members of The Hive possess no individual thought or personality. Furthermore, they acknowledge only other facets of their collective consciousness." The words were scrawled across a crumpled sticky note attached to the top right-hand corner of the page. You hadn't written those words, but it sure looked like your handwriting. Your name was even signed at the bottom.

Someone had stolen and altered your sketchbook, and now they were using it against you.

Panic and paranoia welled up inside you. Clutching your books to your chest, you quickened your pace, catching glimpses of more and more hallways decorated with your sketch. Whispers followed you as you rushed down the hall to your locker, hoping to escape and find solace in your first class of the day, but you had no such luck. Reaching your destination, you gasped at the sight before you, recoiling in shame and confusion. It was like a shot taken straight from a television drama. This thief - whoever they were - had covered your locker with copies of that picture. 

Who would do something like this? You had only been in town a year - you wouldn't have thought that long enough to garner this degree of animosity from anyone.

"What the actual hell, Y/N?" A student exclaimed from down the hall.

Your mouth hung, gaping in shock and you floundered for something - anything to say. There was nothing. No defense. 

"Yeah, Y/L/N! What did Matt and the team ever do to you?"

Your eyes widened. "What?" You shook your head, blinking rapidly as you tried to explain, but your voice refused to rise over the commotion, accusations, and judgment. "N-no, they didn't. I mean, I wasn't trying to-to…"

"You realize how sick this is, right?" Another kid demanded, closer to you this time. "Like, seriously. Judgy much?"

"No, it's not like that," You insisted. It felt like your whole world had been tossed upside down. "I-I just-" You stammered, hapless. For once, it was the people around you who couldn't seem to hear.

"What a creep," Muttered someone else as they passed close enough for your hearing aids to register. Was that what everyone thought of you?

"No! Y-you don't understand! I-I didn't mean it like that. I-" Your heart sank. Shame overwhelmed you and you buried your face in your hands, sliding down the wall to the floor.

Your heart felt like a voodoo doll, impaled with all sorts of pins. You'd never felt impressed to explain yourself to anyone. You had never cared what anyone else thought of you. But when you had imagined all the ways your life might fall apart, this wasn't one of the ways you had envisioned. That drawing and the dozens of others like it - they were yours. 

You wished you'd never made them in the first place.

Shaking your head, you switched off your hearing aids and hugged your arms around yourself, perfectly content to stew in your own misery. A dull roar met your ears as students passed by. None stopped to address you. A few of them tossed crumpled-up photocopies of your sketch at your head but you ignored them.

Then a hand settled itself on your knee. 

Startled, you peeked between your fingers, expecting someone like the assistant principal or guidance counselor to be kneeling in front of you. Instead, you were met with the concerned countenance of none other than Kol Mikaelson. 

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes. 

He proffered a gentle smile and said something, but his words were lost to the prattling hum that encompassed your world without hearing aids. You preferred it this way. It was your natural state. You saw instead of listened, it was what made you such a good artist. Or so you'd thought.

You shook your head at him weakly, pointing to your ears, and mouthed, "I can't hear you."

Why was he here? Was he just going to tease you as he had a few weeks ago on the football stands? 

Kol nodded. "I know," He signed. His movements were small and lax - nonthreatening. 

Unsure how to interpret his sudden kindness and understanding, you shifted to sit up a little straighter, eyeing him. Kol's lips pressed into a thin line that tried to look like a smile. Without warning, he removed the textbooks resting in your lap and stood.

"Let's get you out of here, yeah?" He sighed, offering you his hand. Hesitantly, you reached out and took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You stiffened as the boy let go of your hand and instead wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you swiftly against his side, shielding you from the view of others in the hallway as he hastily but gently herded you down crowded hallways and out the heavy steel front doors. 

Just outside the school, there were picnic tables set up where students could sit to study or eat lunch. Those were deserted by now as first period was speedily approaching. Kol guided you to one of them and dropped your books on the table, gesturing for you to sit. You weren't overly fond of being told what to do, but you figured this was probably Kol's best effort to be nice so you obliged. He sat down in front of you and cupped your jaw in his hand. With his brows furrowed and expression drawn the boy seemed to be inspecting your face, though for what you couldn't be sure. 

Absently, you noticed that his hands were very warm despite the changing season. (Why that thought made your stomach queasy was a question for another time.)

Kol's thumb brushed over your cheek and you wanted to look away to hide the flare of heat that consumed your cheeks, but he wouldn't let you. 

"Well, you're not panicking," He observed after what felt like an eternity. "That's good." 

His words were muffled without your hearing aids but now, away from the commotion of the bustling hallways, you could understand him well enough. 

You gave a small nod and, refusing to meet his eyes, focused instead on the grass beneath your feet. 

"I'm fine," You whispered. Your voice was a little hoarse but he didn't know you well enough to recognize that. 

"Are you sure?"

The question was inevitable, yet you found yourself scowling anyway. 

Of course you were fine. You were always fine. 

You wanted to tell him that you didn't want his pity, that you weren't some distressing damsel and that he needed to mind his own business. You weren't some charity case he could use to prove to all the senior girls that he could be a sensitive boyfriend. (You'd been there once. You weren't going through it again.) But, as always, the boldness in your head could never seem to leave your lips.

"It's not your responsibility to take care of me," You told him instead. In your lap, your hands fiddled and tugged on the too-long sleeves of your sweater. You'd gotten chalk on your jeans again.

He let his hand drop and the swirling autumn winds cooled your cheeks. You sort of missed the warmth.

"I know that." Kol's concern morphed into a smirk. This was it. You prepared for the incoming ridicule. It never came. "You don't like anyone getting close, do you?" He guessed, casually leaning back as though he already knew the answer. (And respected it.) "Makes you uncomfortable, I'd imagine."

You shrugged and picked at the loose threads on your sleeve. Honestly, he was right - you were just a bucket of trust issues in a Technicolor wrapper. But was that any of his business? No.

"Why are you here?" You wondered in lieu of an answer. 

Kol raised a brow. "Apologies, darling. I was unaware that it's illegal for a bloke to be a good friend 'this side of the pond." 

"It's not illegal," You said. Your eyes narrowed. "But we're not friends."

You'd made a handful of friends since moving to this town. None of them had come to your aid. Then again, none of them knew about your sketchbook.

Kol smirked. "Consider this an application then!" He surmised, eyes glinting. Those unnerving tar pits seemed a little less dead today than they had before. What changed? He chuckled, amused at your loss for words, and continued. "Besides, I get the feeling I'm just about the only one who knows that sketchbook of yours was stolen from you. The only thing I want to know is, what made you draw that picture?" 

Maybe… if you told him the truth about the sketches, he wouldn't look any closer. 

"I don't like Stefan Salvatore," Came your quiet answer. 

That didn't seem to be what he was expecting, but he didn't look disappointed. Kol's lips twitched and he wet his lips in a way that betrayed a certain excitement. 

"Go on."

You took a breath.

"He and I were the only two new kids last year," You began. If you said this, you were going to sound like a lunatic, that was why you'd always opted to draw it out instead. "Strange things happen in this town, and they happen around him. No town has as many "animal attacks" as this one and those only started when he showed up. People started going missing. Some were found dead. Mr. Saltzman is our history teacher because the guy before him got ripped up right over there in the parking lot just before Stefan's first game as part of team. The police said it was a mountain lion, but I was there; I saw the body and there were no scratches. Then there's the way some of his friends a-and Mr. Saltzman look at him sometimes - I've seen them do it - like he's about to murder everyone in the room and they don't know how to stop him."

Kol stared at you. His expression had grown increasingly weary the longer you kept on rambling. When you finally closed your mouth, he nodded slowly, brows furrowed. You bit your lip, awaiting his response.

"That is…" He trailed off. To your great surprise, however, he nodded as if he actually believed you. "Deeply disturbing, darling." Kol's eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer. "You say you saw your teacher's corpse?" He asked.

You nodded. "The "bite" on his neck looked a lot more like buck-shot to me."

His eyes widened. "You think someone killed him?" He hissed.

"And the police covered it up."

"So why draw the football team?"

You hugged your arms around yourself. "Because Matt Donovan is in on it. It's him, Tyler Lockwood, and Stefan Salvatore - they've been acting so weird. Two months ago, Tyler and Stefan started acting really mean all of a sudden and the rest of the football team just started acting like zombies, doing anything they said. It was really freaky."

"And you drew it so you wouldn't have to be afraid." Kol nodded, smiling softly. "Put all the horrors in a little book and out of your head."

This kid had you dead to rights.

You tugged on the sleeves of your sweater. "I never meant to hurt anyone," You sighed.

"I know," He said. "For the record, I quite liked your little interpretation."

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"I'm not sure yet," The dark-haired boy admitted with a shrug. "Honestly, I've never known another town to have as many functions as this one."

"Right?!" You exclaimed. Finally, someone else saw it! "Smells like organized crime to me…"

"Or cult activity."

"Or that."

"Or maybe you're just a little paranoid," Kol surmised. "But if that's the case, then who am I to judge?"

For the first time in a while, your shoulders shook with a genuine laugh. 

"Thanks Kol."

"Anytime, love."

And that boy lived up to his word. Over the span of the next several weeks, more of your sketches were spread about the school. It wasn't long before your so-called friends had all cut contact. Kol became the only person in town willing to talk to you. Every time a drawing was leaked, no matter how dark, twisted, or gruesome the image, Kol was always there to comfort you and compliment your art style. 

Each drawing that circulated the school was more damaging to your reputation than the last. Anyone you thought was in on the secret of Mystic Falls' suspicious deaths, you turned into a monster in the pages of your sketchbook. 

Jeremy Gilbert became a tortured Voodoo doll. 

("Well, there's an odd comparison," Kol commented idly, inspecting the array of pages that had overtaken your locker. "I quite like it."

A student shoved past you on their way to class, ramming painfully into your shoulder. You winced, aware that the action was purposeful, but you didn't say anything. Kol, however, glared at the kid - a cold, chilling sort of glare. 

You shrugged, readjusting your backpack.

"He just always seems so pained lately. 'Looks at everyone like they're gonna kill 'em.")

Elena, his sister, you portrayed as a prim, psychotic puppet master. 

("I'm sorry, but have I done something to you?" The popular and gorgeous former cheerleader asked when she confronted you about the sketch she clutched in her hand. Seniors Stefan Salvatore and Matt Donovan stood with their arms crossed, flanking her on both sides. The sight only served to reinforce the role your imagination had given her - the girl wore her ex's around her like accessories. They were always there to cover for her strange behavior.

"N-no, it's not like that. I-I-I swear!" You stammered, eyes flicking between her broad-shouldered bodyguards. You swallowed thickly. 

"Look, Y/N," Elena sighed. "I'm not mad at you, but whatever is going on in your life, you can't take it out on me. Or anyone else." 

"That's not what I'm doing," You mumbled, shuffling your feet. She didn't seem to hear you. 

"You know, if there's something bothering you, then you need to tell someone about it," Elena said. You were only a few months younger than her, yet she talked down to you as though you were a toddler. You wished the anger that flared and frothed inside you, didn't look like shame as it stained your cheeks. "I know we're not close, but you can always tell me if something's happening, okay?"

"No thank you, I'm fine." 

"Y/N, it's okay to let someone in." The girl pressed. 

You gritted your teeth, wishing she would just go. "I-"

"Pretty sure she doesn't have to tell you anything, sweetheart," A melodiously snide voice hummed from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you shot Kol a relieved smile. He dropped a quick wink in return before focusing on his fellow seniors. Elena and her posse seemed to tense up around him for some reason. 

"What's it to you, Kol?" Stefan demanded. 

"Oh, I dunno. Basic human decency? Nothing much," He replied. The dark-haired senior shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked, smug as a bug. 

"How 'bout you mind your own damn business for a change," Matt snapped. He almost made a move toward your friend but Elena stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Kol snorted at their reactions. "Why so defensive? 'Weren't expecting this lovely young lady to have some back-up?" He slung an arm around your shoulder and began twisting a lock of your hair around and around his finger. You sort of liked him tugging on it the way he did.

"We were just a little concerned," Elena claimed.

"Right." Kol smiled thinly. Releasing his fingers from your hair, he took a threatening step forward. You hadn't realized before just how tall that boy was. "Well, as Y/N said, she doesn't need your concern. So why don't you run along and take your puppets with you." 

The three seniors reluctantly surrendered under the force of Kol's steely glare and you watched them go, hugging your arms around yourself and shivering. Kol turned back to you. His hands found their way to your shoulders and he stopped down a little to look you in the eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked. His eyes were still dark, but not the pits of tar they'd been before. They were more like soft dirt now, holding the promise of future life. 

Kol gently smoothed his hands over your arms, spreading a gooey, molten warmth everywhere his skin touched. There was something bubbly in your lungs and the shudder that ran down your spine this time wasn't from nerves. 

You took a breath and tried to ignore how his touch made you want to melt.

"I'm fine," You lied. You were fine. You were always fine.

The boy smiled as though he didn't quite believe you. "That's good." He tilted his head in the direction Elena and the others had disappeared to. "You were right about them, though. There's definitely something strange going on there."

You nodded. "Thanks."

"Of course, darling.")

Bonnie Bennett, by the grace of your overactive imagination, had been transformed into a wicked witch. Ancient runes glowed in the air, surrounding her dark ritual. Oddly enough, the thief had changed a few of them, though you weren't sure why.  

("If I might ask, why a witch for that one?" Kol asked as the girl herself scowled venomously at you from the other side of the gym.

He sat with his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, leaning in close so you would hear him though he spoke softly, having stayed a little longer after school to help you with your chemistry homework now that no one else would. You could smell cinnamon and something tangy on his breath as his lips brushed over your ear and you tried not to shiver. The whole school probably thought you were a couple, but you knew that wasn't the case. 

"There's some weird looking stuff in that girl's locker," You whispered back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of the daggers she was glaring at your head. If you didn't know better, you would have sworn the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees. "At the fundraiser we had last year, there was this car that just caught fire outta nowhere. The thing wasn't even running and it just exploded. Everybody was freaking out and running but Bonnie just stood there, staring at it like she was possessed."

Kol glanced up at the Bennett girl again. "You know what?" He decided, tilting his head. "I can see it." He sent Bonnie a little wave and turned back to your homework. "I loved the runes you included in that drawing, though," The boy added. 

"Yeah?" You couldn't help but smile.

"Absolutely. Most of them were even correct," He shot you a crooked grin. "It was impressive."

You raised a brow. "Can you… read Runic?"

"Mmhm," He hummed, checking off another problem on your homework. "Remind me and I'll teach you sometime."

You were about to ask where and when he would have learned something like that, but the question was plucked from your brain before you got the chance.

You drew in a sharp breath as his hand, which had previously rested like a ghost's on your hip, slipped deftly under your shirt. Unsure whether you liked it or not, you couldn't decide as your brain had simply quit functioning properly. All you could seem to register was that Kol was touching you and it wasn't a "just friends" sort of touch. Your cheeks felt like they'd caught fire as you glanced up at him, blinking owlishly, only to find that he was already watching you with an unexpectedly sweet smile. He studied your expression, waiting for you to protest - to say no. 

When you remained silent, that sweet smile twisted into a smirk. Leaning down, you felt a soft, tender kiss to your cheek just as Kol pressed his fingers firmly into your skin, wasting no time before he began to explore. His hand was warm, gentle, and soft as he stroked and petted your stomach. Something warm and jittery built up in your chest. It climbed up your throat, threatening to spill out. You whimpered quietly, unable to hold it back. Yet, that only seemed to encourage him. Kol hummed and slid his hand lower with another kiss to your cheek. What was that boy doing to you? Your whole body burned as he continued to fondle and caress you shamelessly. Shuddering, you bit back a moan and curled yourself closer to him, fisting his jacket as though he could hide you from the world. Kol just smirked and continued going over your homework. 

He didn't let go of you - didn't stop touching you - until the bell rang. Then he just got up, shot you a wink, and left without another word.)

Slowly, that boy earned your trust because, though you didn't know exactly how to define your relationship with him, he was always there for you. It was nice to have someone who knew why you had drawn those pictures. Not because you were self-righteous and judgemental, but because there was something very real and very disturbing going on and you needed a way to purge the constant fear from your mind.

Kol believed you. There was something wrong with this town. You weren't crazy.

But no one else could see that. 

The day a sketch of Sheriff Forbes - Caroline's mother - made its way around the student body was the day you were called to the principal's office. The picture displayed Sheriff Forbes as a creature like the Other Mother from Coraline, dutifully sewing shut the mouths of townspeople and stitching buttons over their eyes. The Sheriff was a kind woman. She didn't deserve to be depicted that way. But at the same time, you knew she was hiding something.

So there you sat on the wrong side of the principal's desk, eyes locked firmly on your lap as the graying woman watched you with a disappointed frown.

"Y/N, this is not acceptable," She said, tight-lipped with tired eyes.

"I know," You mumbled.

"Then why did you draw these pictures in the first place?" The woman demanded. 

You shrugged haplessly. She wouldn't believe you if you told the truth. She'd probably recommend you to a mental health institution. 

The principal sighed. "Y/N, it's not my business what you do in your free time, but this has to stop. You need to stop."

"It's not me!" You protested. "Someone stole my sketchbook."

"Well, then you had better find a way to get it back, and once you do I highly recommend you burn it. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to suspend you," She said, folding her hands atop the desk. "The mayor has also been made aware of these sketches and she asked me to warn you that, should another one of these offensive images appear, you can consider her commission canceled."

Your heart stuttered and sank. 

You wanted to scream and cry and tell the world it was all so unfair but all that came out of your mouth was, "Okay."

The principal nodded. "Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N."

That was your cue to leave. 

You exited her office and shut the door behind you, letting go of a long sigh. Kol was sitting outside, waiting for you. He was always there for you. Upon seeing your distraught expression, the boy got up and wound his arms around you, holding you close. You clung to him, squeezing your eyes shut and grinding your teeth as you buried your face in his chest. 

Kol pressed a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you alright?” He asked, just as he always did.

You took a deep breath-

(You were fine. You were always fine.)

-and let out a string of cuss words so foul they’d make a sailor blush.

He hissed in sympathy and hugged you tighter. “I take it that’s a no.”

Kol was a good friend. True, his words sometimes carried a sting to them and some of his touches lingered a little too long to be just friendly. But he was good. The two of you had come a long way since you'd first met him. When he pulled away, he probably should have rested his hands on your waist but Kol grabbed you by your hips instead. His hands were very warm and you found yourself blushing. But if you were being honest, you liked the way he was touching you - the way he had been for a while now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, hesitantly watching your face though you refused to meet his eyes.

"No," You answered. 

Kol offered you a strained smile and tugged you back into that tight hug. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He said, gently.

Kol had been such a good friend to you. The least you could do was show him some trust.

"I'd rather show you." 

***

Her hand slid down his arm to his hand which Kol reluctantly lifted off her hip. Then, without another word - because she didn’t talk all that much - she led him off down the hallway. He allowed her to pull him along, amused (and two other things he was trying really hard to ignore.)

There was this funny feeling he got when he looked at that girl sometimes, with her chalk and paint-stained clothes, messy hair, and tired eyes. It was warm and pleasant and it reminded him of how he felt after a really big feed, except not like that at all. He felt satisfied, content… full, but there was nothing sinister about it. Kol found himself unsure how to label that sensation seeing has he’d so rarely felt it and when he had it was fleeting - gone before he could enjoy it. 

This time, however, when it came, that feeling lingered.

And not because he’d killed anyone recently! Kol Mikaelson had not rubbed out a single soul in that miserable little town. (A surprise to all, certainly.) That odd feeling stayed with him day to day, and he tried to ignore how pleasant it was because surly it would disappear any day now… But it never did. Kol knew it had something to do with his little artist but, honestly, that just confused him further. More baffling still was the notion that, over the past few weeks, he hadn’t found himself craving the high that exacting death always afforded him. Sure, he felt a little… hungry (that didn’t seem like the right term) on the weekends, but then he’d see her in the hallways and he felt content again. It wasn’t the sort of satisfaction he took from any of his games either.

That’s what this whole thing had started as - what it was. (Just that he had to remind himself of that fact was unsettling.) It was just a game. He’d played it hundreds of times before with hundreds of girls like her. It was the game where he came into their lives from out of the blue, stripped away every single thing they cared about - robbed them of their friends, their reputation, their comforts, their dreams - and did that all while making them love him for it. Then, once he got them into his bed, he shattered their illusions right before he killed them.

He was so close to winning this one too. Her friends had all abandoned her, half the town was convinced she was schizophrenic, and her dreams were one little sketchbook page away from being crushed. There was just one problem. 

This time, he didn’t want the game to end.

This time, he felt an uncomfortable stabbing sensation in his chest (not unlike the point of a dagger) every time she flinched. Every time she switched off her hearing aids, every time she hugged herself and sighed, every time she pursed her lips on the verge of tears - Kol felt something he hadn’t felt in well over nine hundred years. Guilt. Because he was the one spreading that girl’s naughty little pictures through the halls just so she would want him around. 

Kol simply didn’t understand what made her different. She was human. She wasn’t strong or powerful or even witty. The girl was shy, she hardly said a word to anyone but him, and when some kid shouted abuse in her face she just stood there and took it. She was so plain and boring that Kol often found himself wondering why he hadn’t eaten her yet. 

Sometimes though, she surprised him. 

She surprised him when she shoved her way though the front doors in the middle of the school day. Previously, Kol was convinced that girl had never broken a rule in her life.

She surprised him when she cussed like a sailor and didn’t apologize one bit. Was a girl like that even allowed to say those words? Legally?

But most of all, she surprised him when she tugged him along by the hand in the drizzling rain through the backwoods of Virginia, off the hiking trails, and down into a ravine where she only stopped in front of a looming chain-link fence. That fence had a big, red “No Trespassing” sign attached to it.

She suprised him when she was always fine. That girl accepted his hugs, his touch, his comfort - but she didn’t need it.

Thus, Kol was well and truly floored when his tiny sweet, delicious little artist dropped his hand and scrambled up and over that fence like a monkey scales a tree. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She had absolutely, positively, and without a doubt just broken a law. That couldn’t be right. She was too shy to break the law. This was the same girl that apologized when she broke her bloody pencil.

"You coming or not?" She challenged. And then... Then, she smiled.

The sight of it took Kol's breath away.

That smile. He didn't understand it. Y/N was no witch - he knew that for certain. But somehow there was something magical about that smile.

There were moments - only a handful of them - like the one he was in right then. Those times were so rare but when they occurred, Kol's tiny, sweet, piquant little artist would look back at him, usually over her shoulder, and send him this... this smile. The twist of her lips he'd seen her wear when he'd first met her, the one she passed out to her so-called friends, was a fake he came to realize.

This real one was so much prettier.

Words had so rarely failed him, but there was no language Kol knew that could quite describe just what that smile looked like - what it made him feel or why. That smile of her's was just so real - so deeply heartfelt - that it always made him want to smile back. Her's was never never a silly or obnoxious grin that she gave to him. It was this tiny quirk of her lips that made her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow a subtle, appetizing pink. Her beauty wasn't like that of the models in those magazines Bekah liked - she wasn't spectacularly eye-catching. That girl's smile didn't light up a room, but it lit a fire in his chest the likes of which he'd never known. It twisted his stomach and Kol felt so hungry every time he got to witness that smile. Except that hunger wasn't the sinister kind he was so familiar with. When she smiled at him, he didn't want to hurt that girl.

He just wanted to pin her against a tree and kiss those beautifully curled lips until the taste of his extraordinary artist was seared into his infallible mind for all eternity.

It wasn't just lust either. It was more than that. Kol didn't want her just because she had a pretty smile. He needed her because that smile only appeared for him - no one else. Kol could make that girl smile and it had nothing to do with his physical appearance. His little artist's smile was reserved just for him simply because he was there to see it. She smiled because he existed and that idea was one he couldn't help but revel in. After all, when was the last time he got something all to himself without having to fight tooth and nail for it?

“Say, love, are we getting close to the bridge?” He wondered. It was the bridge or the falls, but he couldn’t be sure. Y/N didn’t reply. Her lovely, perfect, scrumptious little laugh was all he got in response. After a few more minutes of walking in silence - which he found he liked better than all the other girls he’d ever played with who always felt a need to fill the gap with meaningless prattle - they reached their destination.

So, Kol grinned. That was his real smile too. Only she could bring it out. "Of couse, darling."

He jumped and scaled the fence with the same ease as his quiet companion who took off again as soon as his feet hit the ground. It wasn't long before his enhanced hearing caught the sound of water rushing nearby.

Once free of the tree line, Kol glimpsed the dreary silhouette of Wickery Bridge breaking through the haze of rain and gloom. His little artist glanced back at him with something wild and ferocious gleaming in her eyes. For a moment, he was taken aback by the sight. But that moment was swiftly overtaken by sheer, lucidious excitement. He returned her smile and she bounded off down toward the water. He followed, enraptured and curious as she came to a stop underneath the bridge. 

“Alright, my sweet, I think I’ve let you go on long enough,” He said upon catching up with her, not that doing so was any struggle. “What’s so important that you brought me all the way out here?” 

The girl didn’t say anything. Instead, she began climbing up the mess of rocks and driftwood that had collected on the banks of the river, making her way up to the crevice where the bridge split from the shoreline. As she did, her hand slipped on one of the rocks and she spat out another string of cuss words that would peel the scales off a snake. Normally, Kol would have been impressed; however, he was a little too busy focusing on the minuscule part of him that didn’t want to rip out her throat. 

She’d cut her hand on those rocks and it wasn’t just a little scrape, like the ones he’d grown accustomed to. This was a long, jagged slit across her palm and her all-too-tempting blood was spilling down her arm in beautiful crimson rivers. 

And terrible, awful, horrid reality came crashing back in on him.

For a while there, Kol had almost forgotten the two of them weren’t the same. Somehow he’d felt full enough - full of something, full of her - for long enough that he’d forgotten he wasn’t who and what he was pretending to be. He’d forgotten about what he was doing and why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing with her. He’d forgotten that he was the predator and she was the prey. 

He was there solely to charm her into surrendering her blood and her body. That was it.

THAT. WAS. IT.

Kol hurt people. That was what he did. He screwed up, and he hurt people, and he laughed about it.

So why did the thought of sinking his teeth into that artist’s pretty little neck seem to tear his lungs to shreds? No - not his lungs - that thing between them. That thing he ignored. That thing he didn’t have. Most people call it a heart.

What was that about? Kol was a monster. He hadn’t felt anything in years, aside from rage, hunger, and the occasional apathy. One thousand years of never giving a damn about the value of human life. And now what? His heart suddenly decided to garner affection for one lonely, miserable, pathetic, perfect, baffling, innocent, gorgeous, plush, soft, disillusioned little artist? Now?

Why now? Why her?

(It had been so long. And he’d had no one.)

She was the only one who ever smiled just for him. The only one who ever trusted him enough to let him see how terrified she truly was. She was scared, so scared all the time that something would spring from the shadows that lurked around every corner to snuff out her soul. She should be, he knew. She was right to be scared. Because Kol was right next to her and he was the only person not in her sketchbook. Sure, she’d never had the chance to put him in there but he’d asked her once what he would look like if she were to draw him like she did everyone else, and his tantalizing little artist had told him she didn’t see Kol that way - that he was her friend. She didn’t know it, and he didn’t want her to know it, but she should be scared of him. 

Kol wanted to kill her - needed to kill her. He craved so desperately to ravish that appetizing girl right where they stood. Bloody hell, she should be terrified! 

Yet, he didn’t want to scare her - didn’t mean to. He was just hungry - that was all. No one was around. No one could stop him. She didn’t need to be afraid. He could make her feel good. She might like it. Kol was just hungry - he didn’t want to hurt her. One taste wouldn’t hurt her so bad, would it? She would forgive him. One bite would be enough and then he’d stop. Except he wouldn’t and Kol knew that. He would drain every last drop of scarlet from her body and he knew she would be the most exhilarating high he’d ever get. But he didn’t have to feel bad about it. He could dump her body in the river and he’d never see her again. 

Oh.

That was it.

He’d never see her again.

No. No, he wanted to see her smile again. Wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to listen to all of her secrets and wanted that girl to let him touch her for real. No. No, no, no, nonononononononononono.

And all this ran through his head before his artist had even finished cussing. 

Y/N waved her hand in the air, displaying her cut. “God hates me!” She called down to him cheerfully. That sunny demeanor that had once annoyed him so now brought him a laugh.

“That’s on you, darling. Perhaps if you were to tell me what it is that you’re trying to achieve, I might be able to assist,” He pointed out, still chuckling to himself. The girl shrugged and reached into the crevice, feeling around for something. “If you get bit by a snake, I’m going to laugh,” Kol mused. She twisted her other hand around and flipped him the bird. After another moment of watching her grope around in a dark hole, his little artist let out an exclamation of success and retrieved her arm which was now attached to a large, black duffle bag. Carefully, she climbed down and tossed the bag on the ground. 

“Ta da!” She grinned at him. It was an odd expression - like her face didn’t quite know how to express her current joy to another being.

Kol raised a brow. “Wow,” He deadpanned. “Color me impressed.” 

Her smile didn’t falter.

“The council just finished renovating this bridge,” She said as though that explained everything.

“And?”

Instead of answering, she simply bent down and unzipped the bag at her feet. Meanwhile, ever the gentleman, Kol forced himself to turn away from admiring the exquisite view of her cleavage this action presented him. He wanted her, yes. Kol delighted in reducing his little artist into a blushing puddle when he touched her. But if he was going to have that girl, he was going to have her everything. Her smile, her heart, her mind, her body, and her respect. Everything. Not just empty lust.

From out of the bag, Y/N drew a pair of gloves, a mask, and two cans of what Kol now recognized to be spray paint. Then, donning the gloves and mask, she marched down to the concrete trusses of Wickery Bridge and got to work. The giant concrete slabs were practically one perfectly untouched canvas for her to exploit.

Suddenly, all those strange behaviors made a whole lot of sense.

“Bloody hell, the girl’s a vandal!” Kol barked a laugh. "I wondered what it was you were so desperate to keep me away from,” He said, shaking his head. “I had my suspicions but this… was not one of them.”

“Oh really,” His artist scoffed. She started out her mural with layers of red. “And what were those suspicions?”

“Abusive parents was number one,” He listed, stretching out casually on the ground, back against a rock. Not the most uncomfortable position he’d ever held. “Self-harm was number two, and number three was a sordid drug habit.”

“Do I really come off that pathetic?” She wondered blithely. 

“Most of the time, yeah.”  

The girl snorted. “Good for me!”

“That desperate to hide your little crimes, are you?” He chuckled.

“Yep!”

“Why?”

“Well, mostly-” She paused to switch colors, going with black now. “-because if Mayor Lockwood ever found out I was the one painting her little town red, I’d lose my commission to paint town square and uh… I like money.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I sense an “and” coming.”

“And,” She continued with a slight laugh. “I might have possibly tagged a few properties worth a lot more than a bridge.” She hesitated. “Or a town… or a castle.”

That last remark was enough to have Kol sitting up straight. “So you were the miscreant who wrote out “Blood Money” on the side of my house!” He exclaimed, wide-eyed. It was impressive as no one in his family had heard anyone approach the house that night, yet the message had been there in bright red the next morning. How had she pulled that off?

The girl froze in her painting. “That was your house?”

“Indeed it was.”

“Whoops.”

Kol waved a hand. “Eh. No harm done.” 

“So… not a mafia base then?” 

He wished she was wrong. Kol really wished he wasn’t everything that terrified his precious artist. But he was. And that wouldn’t change.

So he laughed.

“Well, if I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” He joked. Except it wasn’t a joke. But he could let her think it was. He could pretend he believed that too. He could pretend he was just a normal kid, enjoying the company of a beautiful girl. He could pretend that.

She threw her head back and laughed. 

What a beautiful thing.

“Okay! I’m done talking now!” She announced without providing any segue whatsoever. He liked that about her though, that she was blunt and direct. It amused him. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” He protested. He wasn’t all that broken up about it. Just being around that girl was enough to sate his hunger for her. That's what his little game had turned into. 

She shrugged and flipped her hearing aids off, so he supposed that was the end of it. 

“You know, I’m actually a vampire,” He told her. Kol knew she couldn’t hear him and his words fell on deaf ears. He figured he should tell her the truth though. Even if it was only this once. At least then he could say he had. 

“I’ve murdered hundreds of thousands of people - plenty of them for no reason at all. As for you…

“Well, I’ll probably kill you one day. Hell, I almost did just now. I’m not all that great at self-control, you see.” He let go of a bitter laugh and scooped a pebble off the ground, laying back he tossed it over his head and caught it again and again. “But I’m really great at screwing things up!”

“I stole your sketchbook,” He admitted, a little quieter. “It was just supposed to be a bit of fun, but it’s not fun anymore. I-I don’t like to see you hurting. I could stop. That bloody school would never see another picture.” 

He lifted his head, watching her back as she continued painting. 

“But would you still love me if I did?” Kol sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think you would. You don’t need me.”

This time, when he tossed the rock, he didn’t catch it. The stone flew and landed in the river, lost to the moving water.

“Nobody does.”

He was glad she couldn’t hear him. He could talk to her and she would never know. Blissfully ignorant, he could watch with a lazy smile as she swung her hips and just kept on painting, without a care in the world. His horribly lovely artist sang quietly to herself as the light of the setting sun bounded off the water and carded through her hair, casting an ephemeral glow all around her. He wondered if her quiet verse might be meant for him. He knew that wasn’t the case. For someone so observant and suspicious, she could be quite blind. He doubted she could be in love with him or that she understood how he felt for her. But like with the rest of this bittersweet scene, Kol could pretend. 

“Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows

Everything that's wonderful is what I feel when we're together

Brighter than a lucky penny

When you're near the rain goes, disappears, dear

And I feel so fine

Just to know that you are mine…”

***

Robert Frost had been right, you decided the day your world fell apart. You would have preferred your world had been destroyed in one giant, raging fire. Of course, you didn't get to choose. Your world froze over slowly. The cold strangled your opportunities and relationships one by one until you were left entirely alone.

You stood in front of your locker that day, staring at the final nail in the coffin of your reputation and future. This was how it was to end. In ice. You felt like ice as you stared at that final drawing - cold and despondent. 

That sketch was of Alaric Saltzman, your kindhearted history teacher who believed in infinite chances for a student's grades. He always wore a pained smile - it was a smile for everyone else because he was still hurting but wanted the kids he taught to look forward to the rest of their lives as he no longer did.

You had drawn him differently.

No smile. Just the pain. Pain that had morphed into bitterness and bitterness into hate. He was sitting in his desk chair, facing towards the door - toward the viewer - with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and a gun in the other. Smoke rose from the barrel of that gun, and the viewer's perception was tinted red.

You had drawn your history teacher murdering you in cold blood. 

Who does that?

"So…" The silky lilt of Kol's gentle accent tugged you from your thoughts and brought just a little relief. Even if you had nothing, you had Kol. "Do I want to know what inspired this one? Or would I rather sleep tonight?"

You shrugged, apathetic. The weight of the moment yet to sink in.

"I saw a gun in his desk," You answered tonelessly. 

"No shit?"

"Uh, huh." You nodded. "Right next to the colored pencils."

The boy whistled. "I'm regretting some of the things I put in my essay now," He said. 

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "As if you did it."

"Ouch, darling. That hurts." He chuckled lightly and you felt his arms encircle your waist from behind. He tugged you close, resting his head on your shoulder. "You don't know everything about me."

He was trying to joke, for your sake. But nothing could make this better.

"What do I do now?" You asked with a sigh. Kol pressed a kiss to your cheek - light as a feather. For whatever reason, it felt like an apology.

"Well, if I were you," He said. "I'd go out with a bang."

You nodded and shrugged - indifferent. "A bang sounds good."

Kol released you as you slipped your backpack off your shoulders. Eyeing you with a mix of confusion and anticipation, your best friend's eyes flew wide as he watched you wander over to the nearest window, arms reeling back. 

With all your might, you flung your back through the window.

It shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The raucous hallway fell silent and a few dozen pairs of eyes locked on you.

"One of you bastards stole my sketchbook," You told them, not bothering to raise your voice in the slightest. "Is that what you wanted? To see me fall apart?"

No one answered of course as you glanced between stunned expressions.

"Well, I hope you're happy now," You rasped. Shoving a few kids out of your way with the harshness that had been building inside you for months now, you left that school behind you and didn't look back.

The only sound to be heard was Kol's low whistle as the heavy steel doors swung shut. The tears streaming down your face were silent.

You sprinted home through the driving rain, the sky dark and close, almost like a blanket. Perhaps the whole world was crying with you. After all, it always seemed to rain when you were sad.

To your relief, your parents were still at work. You had the comfort of crying in peace. Slamming the door shut, you pressed your back against it, slid to the floor… and screamed.

This was your life and it was crumbling in your hands. What else were you supposed to do?

A light knock tapped against the door. So quiet you wouldn't have heard it if the vibrations weren't centered right next to your ear. 

"Y/N?" Kol's voice called from the other side of the wood. You didn't say anything, though your ragged breathing was far from quiet. "Y/N, I know you're in there. I can hear you crying." He laid his hand flat. You could hear that ring he always wore scraping against the wooden surface. "Please let me in?"

You shook your head. "I'm not some charity case," You choked out, throat raw.

"Perhaps to someone else you are," Kol said. He must have been kneeling on your front porch. "But not me. I don't have charity, darling. I'm rather selfish actually."

You huffed a laugh. It was humorless.

"Then why come?"

"Because I'm selfish," He replied. Then quieter. "I don't like to see you cry." His ring tapped against the door a few times. "Darling, please let me in? I want to help."

Your teeth clenched like a vice.

"I don't need you."

For years you'd longed to say those words. Finally, in this haze of fury and anguish, they weren't so hard to speak.

"I know." He sighed. "I know you don't, darling. It's part of why I like you so much."

Well as long as he understood, perhaps it was alright 

You scraped yourself off the floor and opened the door. Kol stood outside, drenched to the bone, same as you. His eyes weren't dead anymore - not the distant black holes they'd once been. No, his eyes were warm chocolate now, melting with something sad. He really did care.

"Come in," You signed, too worn out to speak. 

Kol's brows furrowed. He seemed worried for a moment, though you couldn't guess why. Then he took a tentative step through the door, smiled, and stepped closer, closing the door behind him. 

You watched him take his shoes and coat off through the dim light. Your house was dark. You hadn't bothered with any lights. Once he'd finished, Kol glanced up at you questioningly. You regarded him for a moment. After all, these sorts of situations never seemed to turn out well in the books you'd read and the shows you'd watched. The characters in those stories always seemed to end up doing something they'd regret.

Or maybe they didn't regret it. 

You thought you would though. 

So, contrary to what Kol was likely expecting, you didn't throw yourself into his arms. You just turned and shuffled into the kitchen. You finally switched on some lights. After a moment, he followed you, watching intently. Milling about in science, you collected the supplies required to make the two of you a cup of tea. Your quiet nature combined with your parent's distrust of humanity meant you'd never really had a friend like Kol before - someone you brought to your house and shared food with.

"You hungry?" You asked, waiting for the water to boil. Your hands shook a little, but you didn't feel like speaking. He leaned against the counter opposite you and offered a thin smile you felt you didn't quite understand.

"I'll be okay," He signed back after a moment. He took a deep breath. "I'm more worried about you."

You grimaced involuntarily, eyes shifting to the kettle on the stove. Inside, the pressure would be building until it all rushed out.

"I'm not broken, Kol," You whispered, voice hoarse and thick with more emotion than you'd ever known how to say.

"I know that-" He began, lifting his hands defensively.

"Then why do you look at me like I am?"

Kol's lips pressed into a thin line, nodding. You'd caught onto his ways a long time ago. That boy had been eyeing you like no one you'd ever known since you'd first met him. The only difference was now you were brave enough to call him out on it. So what if he saw you for who you really were? He'd seen enough of it by now. You were sick of hiding anyway.

Kol sighed and pushed off the counter. He made his way toward you with soft eyes and tentative steps until he stood just inches away, boxing you in. You met his dark chocolate eyes and refused to back down even though you knew your cheeks were stained pink. You'd never let anyone this close before.

Pursing his lips, the boy glanced down at the space between you and lifted his hand. He trailed his knuckles hesitantly over your side, then met your eyes again as if to ask permission. You swallowed thickly, but didn't tell him no. With a ghost of a smile, Kol laid his hands on your hips and squeezed firmly. You couldn’t withhold a shudder. His thumbs slipped under your shirt and rubbed your skin softly as he'd done for you a few times before, knowing how much you liked it. His hands seemed to fit perfectly over your hips as though he'd been made to hold you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you relaxed into his touch, letting go of a sigh. His searing hands felt nice when the whole world felt so cold. You needed him closer. 

Reaching up, you fisted the collar of his shirt rather harshly and dragged him toward you, pressing your whole body against his. He flinched slightly, surprised by your newfound eagerness, but he quickly reciprocated. Kol chuckled softly and you felt his lips graze your temple before he clinched your hips tighter and lifted you to sit atop the counter. Your heart stuttered and raced in your chest and you gasped sharply, drawing back enough to catch the smirk dancing on his lips. Your cheeks reddened further as he urged you to spread your legs so he could stand between them. His arms circled around your back and you hesitated.

So what if he was a senior? So what if you were a couple of months younger than he was? He'd been a good friend to you. 

Shaking your doubts away, you wrapped your legs around him and rested your head on his chest. Kol hummed quietly and pressed another soft kiss to the crown of your hair.

"I know you're not broken, darling," He said. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging a blazing heat into your bones. "I'm just trying to figure out what it is that you really are."

Your hands on his shirt clenched tighter.

"I'm angry,” You admitted. 

“Why?”

His question prompted your lips to twist into a scowl as a hysterical laugh bubbled past your lips.

“Really? You’re asking me why?” You huffed, shaking your head. “How ‘bout why not? I’m sick of it, Kol. All of it. The lies, the expectations - nothing is right in this town and I hate it! I’m seventeen! I should get to feel safe but I see people and they’re dropping like flies. And you’d think I’d at least get the luxury of being terrified, but no! I have to act like nothing is wrong!” You looked up at him, tears returning to sting your eyes. “I tried to. I really did. But it was too much and I couldn’t and I had to put it all somewhere. Now some idiot who thinks they’re funny just up and ruined my whole future. I’ll never get a job here now, not like it matters because mom and dad are shipping me off to some mental institution-”

“What?!” Kol cut your rambling off suddenly. Reeling back, he stared at you with wide eyes. You just shrugged. “Your parents are sending you away over this?” He demanded.

You raised a brow. “Kol, this is kind of a big thing.”

“How?!” He exclaimed. His grip on your hips tightened. He seemed agitated - more than you would expect. “You drew some creepy pictures. So what?! Who cares?!”

“A lot of people care,” You deadpanned. “I drew the likeness of people around me without their consent. That's a big no-no. My parents are worried I’m overstressed, narcissistic, and paranoid. They say I need help.”

“No, that’s not-” He cut himself off this time, teeth grinding. He wouldn’t look at you, just squeezed his eyes shut tight. You waited for him to gather his thoughts. 

“They can’t take you away from me.” 

Finally, he looked up. Smoldering black eyes met your own with a determination that couldn’t possibly have belonged to an eighteen year old boy. It was etherial - hard to capture and even harder to understand. His eyes seemed darker all of a sudden. An odd trick of the light. 

“That’s a nice sentiment,” You said quietly. “But unless you’ve got some hard-core magic up your sleeve, it’s not gonna change anything.”

Kol nodded stiffly. “Magic, eh?” His voice was dry - strained almost. He let go of you and took a step back, bracing his hands on the counter. The breaths he drew were long and deep - shaking. His eyes flicked back to yours, blazing with something needy. He cursed. 

“Screw it.”

The boy surged forward and his lips caught yours before you could even blink. His arms wound around you again and held you tight and close. One hand wove itself into your hair, tugging on the strands greedily. You couldn’t seem to focus enough to keep your eyes open, they fluttered closed as Kol pressed closer to you. You weren’t sure what to do or how to react, so you just tentatively kissed him back.

Kol flinched. Actually flinched, like he hadn’t expected his affection to be returned.

He pulled away, chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths. 

Had you done the right thing? Would you regret this tomorrow? Would he?

“Kol, wha-”

His lips on yours shut your doubts up pretty quickly. 

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” That boy whispered into your mouth. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m going to fix everything, darling. I promise.”

He left you no time to think. He just pressed you closer - as close as he possibly could and you felt warm. Warm and safe and wanted. His fervent kisses grew increasingly heated and desperate by the second. It was like you were in a haze, possessed almost. There was a sweetness and hunger to him that you were entirely unaccustomed to. Holding the back of your head with a gentle hand, Kol was tender and patient yet determined as he licked at the seam of your mouth. You gasped, flinching as you felt his arm around your waist constrict almost painfully. Seizing the opportunity, Kol swiftly deepened the kiss with a hum of satisfaction. He wasn’t harsh or forceful about it. You just weren’t sure. A tiny whimper escaped your throat but he just swallowed it eagerly. Did you really want this? Were you ready? 

You felt suffocated, trapped, and unable to breathe. You pulled back, trembling. But Kol wouldn’t let you go. He broke away, shaking his head.

“No, no. Darling, shhhhhh.” He combed your hair back with his fingers. It was comforting. “You’re alright. I’m not doing anything.”

“Kol, please-”

“No, you’re fine. Everything is going to be alright. Just trust me,” He promised. The boy smiled and settled his lips on yours again. You didn’t fight him. All you could seem to do was shudder as he captured your lower lip and bit down. On his shirt, your hands relaxed. It was almost as if he’d drugged you. Something about that was disturbing, yet you clenched your thighs around him nonetheless.

“See?” Kol flashed you a soft grin as he broke away this time, pressing a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth. “You’re okay, love. This isn’t me hurting you.”

Then what was?

Kol’s hands slid beneath your shirt and they were so warm as he ran them over your waist and higher onto your ribcage. You had half a mind to let him do anything he wanted, but something wasn’t right. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks at terminal velocity. 

On the stovetop, the tea kettle screamed a warning.

Magic was your first clue. That and he’d said he’d fix things. 

What if he already had?

You stilled. All the warmth in his touch faded in an instant and you let go of him. You didn’t cry out or shove him back. You just quit moving.

Kol’s mouth slowed soon enough. He pulled his hands away and stepped back. The boy eyed you for a moment, but you wouldn’t look at him. Then he cursed. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened.” Throwing his head back, he scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was a disgusting thing to do. Please forgive me?”

You didn’t. You just drew your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball. The tears came back. Your ribcage shook with your pained breaths. 

“Y/N?” His voice was faint and far away. “Y/N, please look at me?”

You hardly heard the words that left his lips. You were too busy processing his greater sin.

The declaration came out as hardly a whisper. 

“It was you.”

Kol blinked. Then he frowned. 

“Darling… what are you talking about?”

You shook your head. Tears streamed down your face.

“Why?” You seethed. “Why would you do it?!”

He took a step back, seeming hurt. “Sweetheart… I’m sorry but you’re not making any sense.”

You weren’t going to play that game. Wordlessly, you hopped off the counter and strode over to the kitchen doorway. Kol had dropped his backpack there. You tore it open and rummaged around until you found it. A little book covered in black Sharpie. 

“How many high school students do you think know Nordic Runes?” You challenged softly.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Probably quite a few. I suspect it’s a relatively common niche interest.”

You hummed. “Let me rephrase then: How many high school students in Mystic Falls do you think are fluent enough in runic languages to correct it when they see a mistranslation?” You whipped around, displaying your oh-so-precious stolen sketchbook in your hands.

The color drained from Kol’s face.

“Darling… I can explain that,” He tried, voice raw - desperate for you to believe him. You wouldn’t. 

You offered him a smile. That same fake, hateful smile you offered to all the people in this town who lied to you. 

“Leave.”

Kol looked as though he’d been shot. 

“Y/N, please. Just let me explain.”

You shook your head. 

“I won’t say it twice,” You spat. Then, switching off your hearing aids, you turned away and started for the stairs. “You know where the door is,” You called over your shoulder, half growling the words. “Don’t let it hit you on the way out… bastard.”

Upstairs in your room, you locked the door and cried. This time you didn’t make a sound.

***

Kol had screwed up. Royally. 

In fact, he was convinced that this was even worse than that time he’d accidentally played god on the continent now known as Australia. (Mammals shouldn’t lay eggs and none would if not for his hubris and an escaped lab rat. Or in this case, a lab platypus.) However, this time, Kol couldn’t just run away. Of course, there was mother dearest’s spell to consider but, that wasn’t the only thing keeping him from leaving that girl and her stupid precious tears behind. For whatever reason, he couldn’t stand what he’d done. He knew this for a fact because he’d had all night to think about it.

Her face, sparkling with fresh tears, was an image burned into his memory. Kol couldn’t seem to forget the tremble in her voice as she’d pulled that bloody sketchbook out of his bag. He could still hear her crying on the other side of her bedroom door. No matter how long he’d begged her to let him in, that door had remained locked. 

This wasn’t how things were meant to go - not when he’d been so close. He couldn’t stand it. 

She’d almost been his. Kol had finally held his sweet little artist in his arms and nothing, nothing - no drug nor blood-induced high he’d ever experienced - could ever compare to finally getting to touch her. He could have had more. He could have won his prize - could have kept her forever.

But he’d screwed up. Now, she loathed him.

He could stand losing a game every now and again. That was what kept things fun. But this wasn’t a game anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. He couldn’t lose. Kol refused to lose.

Luckily, his delicious little artist was very, very human. 

He would go to her one more time, he resolved, to try to explain things. Truthfully, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done, but that couldn’t change the facts. Kol needed her. He wouldn’t give her up just because he’d been dumb enough to let her snatch that sketchbook from his satchel. It wasn’t her fault. Had their roles been reversed, he wouldn’t forgive himself either. But luckily, his steel-spined artist was human. Luckily, Kol could erase his little mistake. 

Perhaps he could grab a quick bite from her too before he wiped her memory. A little taste might aid his patience for her - he didn’t fancy slipping up again like he had the night before. If he hurt her without realizing what he was doing, Kol knew he would kill his little artist far too soon.

He’d made his decision. The only thing that gave him pause was the wrinkled sheet of paper Bekah found that morning. 

“Kol?” Her voice rang through their brother’s mansion carrying confusion and worry. “I think you might want to see this…”

He’d been at her side in a split second, snatching the paper from her hands. It was a drawing, and Kol recognized its style of it instantly. Her lines were intimately familiar to him now, even as harsh and erratic as they were in the sketch he held. 

His beloved artist had finally drawn him. 

The twisted image was startlingly and horrifically accurate. Something clenched in his chest at the sight. She’d drawn his countenance pale, his hair was a wild mess and his eyes were black, empty holes. A vicious snarl warped his lips, accompanying razor-sharp fangs that looked all too real. In the picture, he knelt in the driving rain, cradling a limp corpse. His lips were coated in thick, crimson blood. Enamored as he was with his nightmarish likeness, Kol’s eyes were drawn to the most lifeless part of the image. He would have recognized those paint-stained clothes anywhere.

Now, Kol had added little notes to the drawings he’d stolen from his sweet artist’s sketchbook. This time, she had included her own. 

The harsh, hate-filled words read: “Vampire - a creature that feeds off the misery of others.”

At the bottom of the page, his artist had left him one more note.

“I hope you’re satisfied.”

Rebekah, peering over his shoulder now, whistled lowly. 

“That’s not Nik’s work,” She noted.

“No.” His voice came out sharp, clipped. “No, its not.”

“So who’d you piss off this time?”

Kol shrugged and tucked the drawing in his pocket. “No one important,” He lied. 

Shortly after that, he arrived beneath the trusses of Wickery Bridge. He knew where that girl would be - knew his artist couldn’t leave a piece unfinished. If she noticed him coming from a far ways off, she gave no inclination. Kol, however, noticed quite a few things. The tremor in her hands as she moved a can of paint back and forth in front of her. A used sleeping bag laid out among the rocks. A banana peel displaying the only proof she’d eaten any sort of meager breakfast. He noticed. He always noticed. 

His feet crunched on the gravel as he approached but he doubted the girl heard it - more than likely she had her hearing aids powered off. He could see the appeal in it. After all, it got quite loud in his head sometimes. Turning off the sounds of the world might be nice, but such was not his curse. 

Kol wound his arms around her waist from behind and leaned down. Her skin was so smooth and perfect, it was hard to resist simply biting down and taking her all to himself, but instead of piercing her throat he opted to kiss her a few times, gently. He knew how she would react by now. Y/N wouldn’t fight or squirm, she wouldn’t even scream. 

She just relaxed. 

Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. 

A spitfire when angered, she could be quite impressive; however, when confronted she would always resort to that last option.

He could scent her fresh tears as they slipped down her face, while in his arms her body shuddered, though not quite the way he would prefer. Only one word could seem to manifest through her pain. 

"Why?" She didn't say it out loud, just signed it. Kol held her tighter, shrugging.

"Because I'm an attention whore," He answered simply. It was the truth too. "And I don't know when to stop."

He would always need that artist more than she needed him. From the first moment he'd met her, that was how their story had gone.

If it was even possible, that girl melted further into his embrace. Her head rested against his collarbone and she sighed.

"So you think I'm crazy too, huh?" She smiled and it was a miserable thing.

"I never thought you were crazy, love," He admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I just didn't care for a while at first."

"What changed?" She wondered, brows furrowing.

"You smiled at me."

The girl barked a laugh. "Oh, well that's nice." She rolled her eyes.

Kol pulled her closer to him, as though he could make her feel the emotions he couldn't explain. "Don't believe me?"

"Nope." And she never minced words.

"It does sound rather cliche, doesn't it?"

"Ya think?" She scoffed. Her chest still shook with sobs she tried to suppress. He twisted her body around to pull her into a proper hug. Again, she didn't resist. She'd completely given up. 

Kol didn't like this hopeless, hysterical version of the strong, dagger-sharp artist he'd come to adore. He'd seen this sort of apathy before and typically it bored him. In her, it only seemed to hurt. It impressed him to hold her close until she finally understood that he was bloody sorry!

"Can you ever forgive me?" Kol found himself asking. Funny, he couldn't seem to remember another time he'd wondered such a thing. 

Y/N snorted humorlessly. 

"Maybe in a million years," She replied sourly. "Or maybe when the nut-house straightens me out - whichever comes last."

Those words stung like poison. It had been so, so long since he'd made a mistake he couldn't fix with a snap of his fingers. Accountability was a nasty, uncomfortable thing. 

A voice in the back of his mind reminded Kol that he could always compel his pretty little artist. But… he'd rather hoped her affection for him might be real. He didn't want to ruin that just yet.

Kol groaned quietly and tucked his face into the crook of her neck, fixing his lips over that girl's pulse again. The effect was somewhat calming despite making his fangs ache like nothing else. 

"I care about you, darling," He mumbled into her skin. 

"And I trusted you."

He understood. That girl didn't trust anyone. Now he was just another reason why.

A police siren flared to life in the distance, drawing closer. The artist in his arms chuckled dryly.

"Sounds like my ride's here," She observed, void of all life or emotion. The wheels of a police cruiser pulled to a stop not far off. She'd be caught in the act and Kol happened to know the police force had been set on vervain. 

"I won't let them take you," He swore, tightening his grip on his little artist. A car door slammed shut. Footsteps began approaching.

"And what are you gonna-"

Kol picked her up and ran. Consequences be damned. That girl was his. 

He stopped on the pretentious front porch of his brother's mansion and allowed her to absorb her new surroundings. She trembled in his arms, eyes round as saucers as she glanced around.

Her eyes met his and she shook her head, taking a step back. "Kol?" Her voice was thick with dread. "What… just-"

"You're okay," He assured her in lieu of an answer. He spoke calmingly, but she wouldn’t allow him to step any nearer. "You're safe now."

"No." Her voice was bold and firm. She held out a hand, increasing the space between them. “Tha-that wasn’t right. We-we-we were, uh… We were there… a-and now we’re here. What happened? Tell me. Tell me what you did!”

“Relax darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” He lied. The boy smiled disarmingly, voice a honeyed guise - it had worked before, back before she’d trusted him. “It’s just me.”

“No… No, y-you’re not-” She bit her lip and retreated further, blinking rapidly. 

He took another step closer, shushing her disoriented protests. “You’re alright, love. It’s. Just. Me.”

“NO!” The girl cried out with a tone forged from steel, but Kol watched as her resolve warped and cracked. He could see it rise to the surface - that all-consuming fear in his delectable little artist that he so relished and despised. “No… Kol, stop. Please.” Her sweet melody of a voice came out as a hoarse whisper now. “Y-you were my friend, and… I-I still want you, I do. But you need to stop. You’re not supposed to be like everyone else. Stop lying.”

Kol sighed heavily. His artist had been betrayed, time and time again. He couldn’t be like the rest of this godforsaken town - not if he wanted her. Yet… If he told her the truth - if he revealed himself to be everything that terrified her so - how would she possibly stand his presence?

“Do you truly wish to know?” He asked, unable to meet her gorgeous, all-too-perceptive eyes.

"I have to,” She whispered, almost to herself. “I’m not crazy. I-I didn't just imagine that!"

“You’re right.” He nodded and offered her a slight, halfhearted smirk. "You see too much for your own good, sweet thing. But please remember, you asked to be shown this part."

Kol thought about her - about his gorgeous, perfect artist. He inhaled deeply, taking in her mouth-watering scent. He focused on her heartbeat - wet and strong - let it lull him. He pictured that adorable, appetizing blush that always spread across her cheeks when he touched her. Kol allowed himself to imagine just how sweet, how lush, how devastatingly succulent that girl would taste just beneath her soft, warm human skin.

Then, welcoming that corrupt temptation, surrendering to it, he opened his eyes. 

His little artist screamed.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @cute-freak27 @fayeatheart @archangelslollipop @aonungs-tsahik @sleepneverheardofher @heartbreakgrill @whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271 @dreamingwithrafe @her-violent-delights @witchcraftandgeekness @dreamingwithrafe @acixsracix Comment or DM me if you want to be added to my tag list!

[thatboleyngirl77]

Scorpius-Core songs

Okay, so I saw Harry Potter And the Cursed Child (parts one and two) today, and Scorpius was INSTANTLY my favourite character. Also, WHY IS SCORBUS NOT A THING!? I was watching the whole time, like "surely, they'll end up together" well, nope 😭

So, anywhizzle, I found three songs that I think really suit him:

3. When He Sees Me (Waitress)

I just think that this song applies to him since he's so nervous about making friends, and Dawn's personality shows in this. Also, the line "Usually facts and figures" truly emphasises that he is a nerd. 🤓

2. Let Me Make You Proud (Tangled The Series)

Although the song was originally written for someone wanting to make their father proud, I can imagine Scorpius singing this while he thinks of his deceased mother, trying to do what she would have wanted, and not falling into darkness.

"I long for that look of surprise when you see your son rising at last."

He thinks no one believes in him, so just wants to prove something to them. He's used to having people not expect much from him other than trouble.

Good Kid (The Lightning Thief Musical)

I hear this song and Scorpius is PERFECT for it (besides the six schools in six years, but that could just link to the difficulty he's had making friends).

"everything I every do is wrong, never find where I belong, everybody on my case"

This is so true for Scorpius because since his father was Draco Malfoy, people will always assume the worst, therefore everything he does will be classed as wrong to society. Because of his heritage, no one will let him forget who he is, much like how Albus can't stop being reminded that Harry Potter is his father, which is a large reason why the two work so well- since they both just want to live a life out of the shadows of someone else.

"I keep my head down, I keep my chin up but it ends up all the same with "Pack your bags, Percy you're always to blame.""

No matter how much he tries, even if he follows all the rules, someone will point out his mistakes. Draco literally pinned him to the desk during the future non-reality when Voldemort was in power.

"I never try to do anything I never mean to hurt anyone I try, I try to be a good kid. A good kid. A good son. But no one ever will take my side all I ever do is take the fall I swear, I swear that I'm a good kid. Guess I'm good for nothing at all."

THE REPETITION IN THIS IS SO WONDERFUL FOR CAPTURING HIS DESPERATION TO CONVINCE PEOPLE HE'S A GOOD PERSON!!! Also, "Guess I'm good for nothing at all", is heartbreaking and really looks into how deep the bullying might go, both in school and at home.

Skipping to the end, we have this quote:

"I swear that I'm a good kid, a good kid, whose had a bad run. All I need is one last chance to prove I'm good enough for someone." 💔

Even if I wasn't relating this to Scorpius, that part is just so raw and truthful. In Scorpius' case, he wants to show how he is his own person. He cares for everyone, but gets nothing in return.

Anyway, those are my thoughts!

[pocketramblr]

If you're still doing the ask game, how about this: AU where the higher ups of W.I.S.E was behind Anya getting experimented on?

Oh they're so dead when Anya's parents find out...

1- as you might have heard, W.I.S.E. is a bit understaffed at the moment, so once again Agent Twilight is called in for another task he probably shouldn't be doing. He definitely shouldn't be doing, actually, because cleaning out the documentation of the missions is half intern work and half only-the-top-brass work, and he is neither. Yet, there he is, pulling files and folders and stacking them up to shred and burn.

2- Agent Twilight would never look in the files he isn't supposed to. He more than understands the idea of what people don't need to know. However, he is allowed to take some folders related to his mission, and as he's reading through, memorizing as he goes, another agent who probably shouldn't be cleaning out the room bumps into him and knocks some files to the ground. Agent Twilight shoes them away and picks it up without intending to read- until he sees the picture of a tiny girl with pink hair, labeled "Anastasia" with a red "defunct" stamp covering the middle of her name

3- Agent Twilight is aware of the cameras on him, and that he is not allowed to read those files, and that whoever he takes them to who checks them off and shreds them won't either. He puts the documents back in a file and keeps moving. When he hands his stack over to be destroyed, the documents on his mission he already memorized were switched with the others, and no one notices anything. He continues to read the files on Ania and then other experiments (Belladonna, Clausa, Daniella, etc), and he destroys the documents as soon as they're memorized. His head is a whirl of thoughts, thinking how Anya is, apparently, supposed to be able to read minds, but his the little girl can't do that, surely, it's impossible, the experiments must have failed, but what did they do to her to try to change her, is this why she sees so flighty and behind her age of six, did they hurt her- he only started doing this for more information, for better lives for children than he had, but his own team that he gave his loyalty to have been using children, hurting children-

He walks through the door of the house and Anya says "Papa's home! Papa, today Anya- Papa? Are you ok? Anya's ok, no one hurt me, what's wrong?"

4- Yor looks up and frowns too, because Loid's expression is not a good one as her fake but also real husband realizes that his fake real daughter can, in fact, actually read minds. Anya's eyes go wide because she's been caught and she quickly tugs him by the arm back out of the apartment, calling that she's going to cheer Papa up by showing him the leaves outside and Mama should stay there and wait. Then, Anya asks if he's going to send her back because she can read minds, or because she knows about the mission, panic growing as Loid tries to calm her, wondering how W.I.S.E could have done this to her, he was willing to use a child in a mission but not like this, not discard her after - but Anya has already caught on that detail. "Papa's boss worked with Anya when I was a baby?" She asks, and the hysterics are gone. Instead, she's excited. "So I can keep working on the mission? Can I work more, with Papa? Like at the castle?"

Loid stares at her. That was not the reaction he was expecting. "No, you can't. I... Am going to make dinner." And for the rest of the night, his thoughts are too confusing for Anya to read.

5- so, eventually, Anya decides she must go to her mother too. She slips into Yor's room as she's getting ready for bed. "Mama? Anya has to tell you something secret." She tells Yor that Loid just found out that her first mama, his first wife, was tested on while pregnant and Anya can read minds. Then she proves this by saying she knows about the Thorn Princess thing, but never told Papa because she's good at keeping secrets. But, her parents should probably talk about it. Anya goes to bed convinced she's just brought the world closer to peace and that Yor will inadvertently encourage Loid to let her help on more missions.

(In the next hour, Loid and Yor manage to both tell more truths and more lies than they have of either in the entire marriage before that. Yor is convinced that her husband is going to try to figure out the doctors that did this to his wife with his own connections (psychologist, after all!) and deal with it privately, though at that point Thorn Princess might have to secretly take care of that for him, while Loid is convinced that Yor will be able to take care of Anya if he gets discovered 'pruning' W.I.S.E's upper roles and doing what he can to get agents he's sure won't do human experiments at the top instead, because Agent Twilight doesn't want to threaten peace but he can't abide by this in it's stead. Both parents remain unaware that their dog can see the future.)

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Anyway I can request a part 2 to The Secrets Out? Maybe Y/N ends up pregnant at some point and she has to relinquish her championship and during the duration of her pregnancy LuFisto continues to cause problems for the reader and her little family (consisting of Isla, Christian, and their Unborn child) and it starts causing her problems and Christian helps her in every way that he can?

The Secret's out Pt 2

An: This is already long and I didn't want to make it longer so there will be another part with the LuFisto drama and how Christian helps the reader

Summary: Y/n returns to the ring after her broken nose like she never missed a beat. But everything changes when Y/n unexpectedly becomes pregnant. How will this affect not only her relationship with Christian Cage but her career in AEW?

Word count: 3115

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injury and vomit (I think that’s everything)

Main Masterlist Charistian Cage Masterlist Pt 1 Pt 3 Pt 4

Six weeks had gone by faster than I expected and before I knew it I would make my return just in time for forbidden door. Within those six weeks I was gone many things happened, the drama with LuFisto had pretty much been settled and I was able to bond more with Isla. Christian was home when he could and when he was home the three of us would do ‘family things’. Whether that was going to the zoo, the park or just going out for ice cream. The end of June was soon approaching which meant Isla would soon be on Summer Break. Which also meant ‘Mr. Father of the year’ would bring his spawn to work if he wanted to.

Since I had been spending the majority of 5 weeks with just Isla I wanted to make the last week of our bonding time special before I had to go back to work. She had just finished school so I thought now would be a perfect time for us to go on a little trip just the two of us to celebrate a successful school year. Isla picked on Florida and since I have a home in Ft. Lauderdale I thought it would be a perfect fit. 

Although the trip would only be 3 days since I had to arrive in Chicago on Tuesday to make my return we made the best of it. The first day we arrived we spent at the beach building sand castles, walking on the boardwalk, going shopping in the cute stores by the beach and getting ice cream. By the end of the day we were exhausted, Isla even fell asleep in the car ride home. As much as I wanted to let her sleep she needed to wash off all of the sand. As I carried her from the car to the house I couldn't help the warm feeling I had. I know she is not my biological child but within these past weeks I couldn't help but feel like she was. Earlier today when we were on the beach an old lady came up to me and said how I was a good mother for taking her daughter for a fun beach day. I didn’t even correct her, I just thanked the lady and wished her a good day. From a far glance I guess we could be related. We both had blond hair, Isla had blue eyes while mine were green but you could tell that she was Christian Cage’s daughter. 

The second and third day of the trip also went well. We did lots of shopping, spent time at the pool, went to the park, and the fair just so happened to be in town so of course we had to go. Soon enough I was on a flight to Chicago to make my appearance on Dynamite the week before forbidden door. 

****

Wednesday

Since I had gone straight from Florida to Chicago I had Isla with me. Christian was also at Dynamite so he was excited to show his daughter all around the arena. It felt a bit weird to be back mostly because of the terms I felt on. Leaving with a broken nose and drama only to be welcomed back with smiling faces that were glad to have me back. 

“Good to see ya back friend” said a familiar voice who gave me a hug from behind. When I turned around I noticed that the familiar voice was Willow Nightingale. “Oh Hi Willow!” I told her with a sigh of relief. “You gave me a heart attack” “Sorry” she apologized “Are you still on edge about what happened?” Of course she had to ask that question. The truth was although the ‘gosip’ died down it still had me feeling on edge. The photo of Isla Christian and I walking on the boardwalk of the beach by our house haunting me. I still felt like I was being watched but unsure by who. “I guess you could say that” Willow looked at me with a sympathetic look. “Ya know what It’s fine, I’m fine” that was a lie “ This is the kind of stuff you sign up for” I told her, trying my best to sound un bothered by the situation even though I knew she knew I was lying. 

“Okay, then. You know the plan for tonight?” Willow asked. “Yep, see you soon!” 

I was a bit upset since this storyline would be a bit rushed but the plan for forbidden door was for me to put my ROH women's championship on the line against Willow who currently held the NJPW Strong Women's Championship. Regardless we would put on a great performance, in the meantime I had to get ready for the show. 

***

The time had come, everything was finalized and 10 minutes from now I would make my return. 

“You ready?” Christian asked me “Hopefully, I’m a bit nervous” I told him truthfully “I’m sure you will be fine!” I gave him a smile before mouthing him a thank you for his support during my six weeks off. Just then I felt a tug on my shirt. When I looked I saw Isla holding something behind her back. “Yes” I told her “I made you something” Isla then revealed what she was hiding behind her back, it was a beaded bracelet. “You made this for me! That's so sweet! I am definitely going to wear this tonight!!” As she handed me the bracelet I couldn't help but stop in my tracks as I realized what it said. “Do you like it?” Isla asked me “Yeah…I love it” The bracelet had purple, pink and white heart beads. In the center it had three letter beads that read ‘Mom”. Christian noticed the bracelet and asked Isla what it said. “It says Mom. You are my new Mom right Y/n?” Mom, that was the first time she had ever called me something even close to that before. Unsure what to say I looked at Christian who offered a big smile. “I guess so, you can call me whatever you want okay?” “Okay!” She then gave me a big hug!

*** 

All out 2023

I have been officially back for a few months now and since then I have had 4 successful title defenses. Forbidden Door, Blood and Guts, ROH Death Before Dishonor and All In. All of the matches had gone quite well for the most part. At Death Before Dishonor I took a hard fall on my shoulder and needed to be on some medication. It was nothing a little KT Tape and Phiso couldn't fix. Tonight is All Out in Chicago and I’m currently waiting to see if I am medically cleared. Physically I felt fine but I guess one of the backstage doctors didn’t like the sight of my still bruised shoulder from All In. My opponent at All In was Athena, she was aware of the former injury to my right shoulder so like any good wrestler she used it to her advantage, targeting the shoulder in an attempt to secure the victory. Unfortunately for her it didn’t work and I retained my title. I wasn’t booked for the show tonight, which was fine but I would be accompanying Kris to the ring for her match against Ruby Soho. The outcasts are known for trouble and no way I was going to let them cheat and win. 

“I’m sure everything is going to be fine Y/n” Kris was kind enough to wait with me for the doctor even tho she had a big match tonight “I really hope so Kris, I don’t need another injury”   A few minutes went by and the doctor came out “Ms. Y/l/n” Shit, moment of truth. Kris held my hand as we awaited whatever news lied ahead.

“Your Pregnant” I felt my stomach drop. “What? That has to be some kind of mistake, there is no way I’m pregnant” I yelled at the doctor. “Well Ms. we ran a bunch of tests and your shoulder is fine but according to your blood you are pregnant. It is mandatory we run pregnancy tests through blood with every patient” I looked at Kris who was in shock just like me. “Would you like to know your options?” The doctor asked me. “What am I going to do?” I let out almost in a whisper. How irresponsible is this, the champ getting knocked up during one of the most historical reigns. I didn’t even want to think about what Christians reaction was going to be. “Well Ms. I can tell that this is a shock. I can go through methods of termination if you are interested” The doctor offered handing me a pamphlet. “Y/n, I really think you should talk to Christian before you make any decisions. This is his baby too and he deserves a right to know even if you decide not to keep it” Kris told me. She was right, Christian needed to know and I will tell him at some point. 

The PPV went well, Luchasaurus would retain the TNT championship against Darby Allin and Kris would defeat Ruby Soho to keep her TBS championship. I sat backstage with my friends watching the event trying to have a good time but I couldn't stop thinking about what that doctor told me. I didn’t want to tell Christian never mind my boss but I should have known he would find out about it sooner rather than later. “Y/n, Tony would like to see you in his office” Shit

I walked into the office terrified, how was I going to explain to my boss that his golden goose got knocked up. “Take a seat” I sat nervously 

“So, I spoke with the doctor” I said nothing. Partially because I had no idea what to say and the other part being embarrassed. “Is it true that you are pregnant?” He asked 

“Look Tony, I am really sorry. There must be some kind of mistake, I promise you I am a responsible adult. I feel fine, promise, but they told me that they ran a mandatory pregnancy test with my blood and it came back positive. I really don’t know what to do or say. Only Kris and now you know. I haven’t even told Christian yet.” 

He said nothing, he just wrote something down on a piece of paper. 

“Look, I know this is not an ideal situation for anyone. I’m not going to say anything ok. I’m sure you and I both know that the media is going to have a field day with this one. I think we should continue with the press conference as normal and if anyone asks about your ring status say you are waiting to get cleared. After that you should talk to Christian, see a doctor and we can go from there. We can always say you had to relinquish due to injury” The relationship between Tony and I had always been a bit different than others. I had been in AEW since day one and due to my extremely close relationship with the Elite I even became a producer for AEW along with doing my part to elevate the women's division in any way I can. Tony and I were actually friends so even though I knew him and he knew me he was still my boss and this conversation was uncomfortable on both ends. 

***** *Kris: You have to tell him at some point *Y/n: I know but it’s not the time *Kris: Y/n, If you don’t tell him soon I will just tell him *Y/n: Okay I will geez, not too sure how he will react to being a Father again at 50

The past few days had looked the same, Kris and I texting back and forth. Her trying to encourage me to tell Christian and me being too scared. I had been close on more than one occasion but the words wouldn't come out. I’m pretty sure Christian is starting to catch on too. 

After All Out the two of us went for dinner and when I didn’t have a drink with my meal Christian’s suspension started to grow. “So, what are we drinking tonight? I don’t feel like champagne, we could do a nice red or just grab a bunch of drinks? Vodka soda, that’s your favorite?” How was I about to explain that I would not be drinking, I mean I may or may not have a drinking problem. “Um, I think I’m not going to have a drink tonight” Christian looked at me with a shocked expression “Are you feeling alright? What happened to Y/n?” He said jokingly. I, however, was not laughing. “I’m fine, I just don’t feel like having a drink tonight.” I said a slight edge in my voice that I didn't mean to happen. “Alright then, I’m still getting a bottle of red if you change your mind” 

I knew I had to tell Christian, tomorrow was Dynamite and Tony needed answers. I went to the store and grabbed a few pregnancy tests. I knew I was pregnant but I needed to see it in order to really believe it, it’s one thing for someone to say you are pregnant but another to see a positive test in the flesh. Christian went out to grab a few things so I knew now would be a good time to get it over with. It wasn’t like I had never taken a pregnancy test before, I knew how they worked but I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor reading the instructions carefully to make sure I had done everything correctly. I peed in a cup then let the test soak in the cup for about 30 seconds before leaving it to sit for another 5 minutes to show the result. Those 5 minutes were the longest 5 minutes of my life. I looked at the test and of course it had two lines meaning I was pregnant. Of course I was in denial, so I took three more. I had bought four different kinds, the generic ones with two lines and the fancy digital ones. So far it wasn’t looking so good. Three tests had came back positive. Now I waited for the digital, *3-6 weeks pregnant*. 

This didn’t make sense? If I was at least 3 weeks pregnant that would mean that I wrestled All In pregnant? That match against Athena had been brutal, I got put through a dam table. How could a fetus survive that? I could feel my throat tighten as tears started to fall from my eyes. Just then I threw up. 

Christian’s pov

 I knew something was up the moment Y/n returned from her appointment with the doctor. Kris went with her since I wasn’t able to but I regret not going. Something must have happened because ever since the both of them had been acting weird. In an attempt to lighten whatever happened I offered dinner after the show with Y/n to cheer her up. She was hesitant with how late it would be but gave in. Everyone needs a good drink after a hard day at work so when Y/n declined a drink I was even more suspicious. “You know I have a drinking problem right? I think I should start being more careful on what I put in my body” Yeah something was definitely up. I wouldn't say Y/n had a drinking problem but in the years I’ve known her she has never once declined an offer to get a drink. The next few days had been no different. Isla had been with her Mom so it had just been Y/n and I. Everytime I tried to ask her what happened she would push me away, something that she doesn’t normally do. 

I went out to pick up a few groceries and once I returned I found Y/n sitting on the floor of the master bathroom with tear stained cheeks. I sat next to her and asked “What’s wrong?” nothing “If something happened the other day at work you can tell me you know” I waited, I knew she wanted to say something but was having trouble getting the words out. “You’re going to be mad at me” her words were so quiet it was barely a whisper. “Why would I be mad at you honey?” What would I be mad at? “Don’t yell, I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened” Y/n had tears in her eyes as she spoke. “I won’t yell, I promise but I need to know what happened so I can help you” I told her carefully 

Just then she got up and handed me four items from the sink before returning to her spot on the floor. She was now fully crying and turned her back to me. It took me a minute to realize what I was holding in my hands. Four pregnancy tests, all different kinds but all were positive. “Are these real?” She turned to face me, mascara now ruined. “Are you mad at me?” I wasn’t mad but I was shocked, but I was also happy. “No sweetheart, I would never be mad at you. Especially over something like this” I gave her a hug to which she returned, burying her head in my chest as she continued to cry. 

I knew what this would mean, Y/n being pregnant would change everything. Although this was a shock I was so happy. We had never talked about having kids, Y/n was still in her prime and I was nearly 50. “What are we going to do?” I wanted Y/n to know that I would support her for whatever she decided. I mean she is making history with her current title reign and at the end of the day this is her body we are talking about. “This is your decision Y/n. I want you to know that I am happy about this but I understand if you don’t want to go through with this.” She looked at me with a sad smile. “Would I be crazy if I said I want to keep it? I still don’t understand how it happened in the first place but the more I think about it, I want to go on this journey with you Christian” I placed a kiss to her temple before saying “Don’t worry, I am going to be here with you for every second of it. We will do this together” 

[ladydisdainblog]

My thoughts (and prayer) while I'm diving in Daisy Jones & The Six finale:

— The whole sequence with Nicky in a hotel hall showcased found family trope so well. That was the moment I knew the band's break up is about to be the most painful part of this melodramatic conclusion.

— I think we all enjoyed Simone's story so much exactly because it was a very pinpoint but nuanced narrative and there's no fillers or unnecessary drama.

— I'm so glad they didn't kill Teddy off. Yes, it was the very strong moment in the book, but with this amount of ups and downs another low point would be exhausting for this narrative pace.

— When Eddie exclaimed "Grandma!" I awww-ed so loud that my own grandma came to check if everything is okay😂

— Also Eddie being enthusiastic about new heavier music at the same time he's bitter about Cami is so 2007 of him.

— Ugh, I'm usually Billy's apologist however "She's my wife. I never gonna leave her" somehow felt like the most asshole thing in relation to both of women. Also, dude, this is your mother's house, can you stop being a whore for at least a second.

— Little kiss of Warren and Lisa in the background of a Pittsburgh farewell was so cute. My boy deserved all the good things and he kinda got it in the end. Still the love my life.

— Something something Billy being the oldest member of the band. Something something Roy Kent being the oldest member of FC Richmond. Smth smth boys looking up at Billy since the beginning. Smth smth little Jaime Tartt is idolizing Roy. Smth smth Roy being able to pass his life experiences as a lessons to younger mates and looking after them even when their are cocky shit. Smth smth Billy failling as a leader to read the room and prioritize people and him being a cocky shit himself. Smth smth about Eddie need for validation being constantly overlooked and him losing it even though he knows he's quite good.

— Everyone's costuming for the Chicago show was so fucking hot.

— "More Fun To Miss" scene was indescribably insane. I want to punch them both in a face, I want to put self exploding bracelets on their legs and forbid to move closer than 100 steps. I want them to fuck nasty.

— As great as Daisy and Cami's conversation was in the book, it's kinda cool that Daisy made the decision to let Billy go and come clean on her own.

— Look, here the thing: I don't like what they did to Billy and Camila as couple. But I do like what they did for them individually. And yes, Camila is way more jealousy and bitter, but it's also feels rawer and more real than a straight from a pedestal woman who never communicated her frustration and insecurities to her partner.

— In conclusion it's not perfect but very compelling adaptation with an absolutely phenomenal cast. I loved Riley since "Logan Lucky' and she was born for this part. I had zero expectations for Camila Morrone and she did justice to proud spirit of book!Camila even when the script was against it. And Sam, the actor you are... There's was no need to go that hard on this but I'm glad that he did.

[houseofbrat]

These covers are nauseating because she. doesn’t. have. cancer and have literally exploited it to get out of the comms mess they made.

I expect the headlines going forward to be:

Anytime a member of the RF does any engagement it will be because “they working to support Kate” even The King who actually has cancer

When The King recovers from cancer it will be framed as he was inspired by Kate who again doesn’t have cancer

There will be zero calls for William especially to step up and work and they are never going to be criticized for not working again. Anyone who expects them to will be shamed

Also not how mercenary Kensington Palace is. When the King was diagnosed, they made no public statement of support. They didn’t even like or share his announcement message. Nothing leaked about how they were supporting him, if the grandkids sent him cards etc. Now suddenly to prop up this fake cancer storyline, The King is used as a prop for “heartfelt lunches” and “emotional hospital visits”. They don’t care about him - it’s just useful to use him now.

People falling for this are chumps are it says a lot about the moral rot at Kensington Palace. William truly is Diana’s son in the worst way and I wonder if their dishonesty and opportunism will ever catch up to them.

Sorry for the long ask but I’m frankly pissed!

I think Heath Ledger's Joker pretty much sums up the situation at this point.

I will also say that I completely side-eye the excuse of giving a public statement now due to the kids' term break & Easter holiday. I've seen plenty of rumors that the UK press has known since January that Kate had a medical diagnosis of cancer regarding her operation. This certainly fits in with Tom Bower's statements at the end of February.

If that's true, then KP could have made a simple statement in February when the kids were on their half-term break about her condition, even if they didn't release that specific diagnosis. That statement would have quelled and quieted down all the speculation weeks ago. Except they didn't do that.

I don't buy this notion of making a statement right before they go hide away for three and a half weeks to protect their kids from their school chums, is it? Do six-, nine-, and eleven-year-olds at Lambrook really care about what the media says about their classmates' mother? I find this really hard to believe given that there hardly seems to be any social media pictures of them attending school functions in the two years the kids have been attending school there. Sure, there's one pic here or there, but when the world is wondering "Where is Kate?," I didn't see any news reports quoting Lambrook parents supporting the speculation that Will had secretly offed Kate. Instead the Lambrook parents seem to be pretty keen on keeping the media/press out of their children's schooling. I don't buy the rationale of Kate announced it now due to the kids' break.

I think the British media is a bunch of clowns, and they are still set about continuing to be so. There were rumors circulating that the BBC was on alert for news about Kate a week ago. Lo and behold, the Beeb filmed Kate's video on Wednesday for a Friday night news dump. But last weekend, Roya Nikkhah was publishing KP pr about how Kate would only talk about her health in person to people she visited on engagements. This weekend Roya is writing about how Charles & Kate's cancer is bringing them both together! And yet, she will continue to post drivel-like scraps even if it's a complete fabrication by KP. KP already had a plan to do a video of Kate if rumors were already circulating at the BBC. When is Roya going to stop accepting nonsense from her KP-related sources? When will all of them? I wonder...

[parkkrys]

Hey, if you are still taking prompts, how about where Aemond changes boyfriends too quickly and everyone is worried, since all of his boyfriends seem like good people but none sticks.

Luke who never got the courage to admit his feelings just watches miserably as he brings one guy after another at every family event. Now, interestingly, one guy gets drunk and tells some member of the family there is no use hoping for more with Aemond because he is in love with some guy who he has known since they were children but they cannot be. Stuff happens and eventually Luke and Aemond end up together. Happy end please.

Always happily taking prompts my friend! This really grew nto a monster and I tried my best not to let it go too far out of control haha. Hopefully this is alright and sorry for any grammar mistakes!

I have also posted this on A03 which you can find here

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

Luke was miserable, and has been for a long time now as he dreads every family dinner that involved everyone getting together playing catch up. Somehow, against all odds, no one has been murdered yet. Luke is still surprised it hasn’t happened yet considering. 

But like every year for the past five years he expects something to chance but nothing does. Ageon still drinks, Daemon still makes comments to piss Otto off, Alicent and his mother are either best friends or enemies depending on how the greeting goes. Jace and Cregan are always the love couple that everyone coons over because when are they going to get married? It’s been six years now. 

Aemond brings a new boyfriend every year. 

Every year Luke feels the pain deeply because all of them are wonderful guys and Luke hated to admit it, but he got along with all of them even though he knew they wouldn’t stick around. He couldn't remember a lot of the names as much as he did like the guys, but after saying hi to five of them, he wasn’t sure he could bother saying hi to the sixth one. 

And he was right. The sixth one was around here somewhere, he had already forgotten the guy's name, but he was sure he would hear it again somehow. 

“You know, if I could get a hundred dollars for how many guys Aemond brings to these family reunions, I would be six hundred dollars richer,” Aegon drawled and Luke could only roll his eyes. 

“Aren’t you already drunk?” 

Aegon only scoffed as he brought the beer he was holding up to his lips, “Of course I am, but it doesn’t matter. Because I am right.” 

“You don’t even work,” Luke couldn’t help but to say and Aegon could only wave him off before he was walking away.

Every interaction Luke has ever had with Aegon only led Luke questioning his own sanity each and every single time. How the hell were they related he shall never know, he blames it all on Alicent. It had to come from her because the rest of them are somewhat sane. 

He only says somewhat because Daemon was known to be never sane when it comes to protecting his family. The man he calls his step father had a trigger that had him switching from loving husband and trying his best as a father to a murder war machine who doesn’t spare any mercy. 

Luke still couldn’t tell anyone if he ever had a good father son bond with him. Simply because he always felt like Daemon couldn’t care less about him, Jace and Joffrey and only tolerated them because he was in love with their mother. Jace believes it's the opposite and Daemon adores them all. Joffrey just thinks Daemon is cool and has no other opinion about it. 

But that was enough thinking about Daemon and how he felt about that topic. He can think about that at another time, which mostly meant later tonight as he stared at his ceiling, sleep escaping him once again. 

Thankfully, he was saved when Rhaena walked towards him, a smile on her face as she ignored how her grandfather and Daemon were bickering with one another. 

“You look overwhelmed.” 

Luke only groaned as he rolled his eyes, “Why does our family have to be so big? And so dysfunctional?” 

She only huffed in amusement as she stood beside him, “Because that is just how we are.” 

There was a time where everyone expected them to be together, didn’t exactly work when Lucerys came out as a gay man and Rhaena fell in love with another who was not present. Everytime someone were to ask, she would only shrug and say she didn’t want them to scare her partner away. Luke was the only one who knew that she was worried about how her grandparents would take it if they knew her partner was a woman. 

Which, valid since Rhaenys had high expectations from her granddaughter. 

“Be my saving grace and tell me what his face name is?” Luke asked and Rhaena only huffed as she giggled. 

“You really need to know this better, he may actually stick around this time.” 

“Like the other five did?” Luke asked as he took a sip from the drink he had in his hand. It was non alcoholic because he is a good boy, plus he just hates the taste of alcohol really even if he is now nineteen. Old enough to want Aemond and hope Aemond may actually see him for a potential boyfriend. It shall never happen but he hoped anyway because apparently he likes the pain. 

“Jokes on you, apparently from Helena this is actually boyfriend number eleven.” 

Luke proceeded to choke on his drink, his lungs burning as he coughed harshly. Rhaena made a surprised sound as she quickly patted him on the back as Luke only heaved for breath, his lungs now officially on fire. 

“Eleven!?” He managed to choke out and Rhaena only nodded, “What the actual fuck?” 

How the hell did Aemond manage to have eleven boyfriends while Luke can’t even manage to get one? Probably because Luke was never going to settle on anyone but the man he scarred for life. There was something wrong with him. 

“Why so many?” 

Rhaena only shrugged as she gave him a look of pity. She knew of his massive crush on his own uncle that was very wrong but they were Targaryen's. It was expected of them at this point in the eyes of the public. 

“I don’t know, but Alicent is worried for him and Aegon thinks it’s the funniest thing ever. Helena knows the truth but won’t tell anyone is what I heard from Alicent telling our mother. It seems like everyone is puzzled about it.” 

Luke could only nod as he stayed quiet, deep in thought before he sighed and tried to once again, not think about it. 

“His name is Bryan by the way.” 

“What a boring name,” Was all Luke could say and Rhaena only gave him an even more sad look and that was enough of that as he excused himself and walked away. Maybe he should consider moving on or finding someone to help him move on. 

Once again, somehow nobody murdered anyone and Lucerys was once again surprised by this. And slightly disappointed, he had hoped there was going to be some entertainment by the end of the night but nothing really happened. Instead everyone mingled some more, all full with dinner as they all lazed around the fire pit. 

Luke couldn’t stomach the scene from the other side where Aemond and his boyfriend were cuddling. The man with the brown hair that kind of looked the same shade as his own but that doesn’t need to relate to him really, many people have the same shade of brown as him and he did have pretty blue eyes. Bryan is attractive at least. He could never handle jealousy well, it only made him feel sick instead of angry like it made everyone else feel. 

“What are you up to buddy?” 

Luke only jerked slightly before he looked up at Cregan who only gave him a small smile. The man was basically another older brother to him and he instantly always felt safe around him. Luke also suspected that Cregan knew about his feelings for Aemond but never spoke about it, which Luke was always grateful for. 

“Nothing really, just waiting for something entertaining to happen. I’m kinda bored.” 

Cregan laughed as he took the chair beside him before he glanced over at Aemond. He only sighed a bit before he looked over at Luke and gave him a grin. 

“I was hoping to actually ask for your help on something.” 

“Oh?” Luke hummed in curiosity as he sat up, interested in what the wolf had to say. They were alone, or as alone as they could get with several people gathered and distracted by their own conversations. 

“I was hoping to ask if you could help me with proposing to Jace. I don’t have any ideas and I was hoping you had some? And to ask for your blessing of course. I already asked your mom and Daemon but I know how important you are to Jace. You are his favourite person Luke.” 

“Yeah man, of course you have my blessing. You guys have been dating since forever. You’re basically my brother already.” 

Cregan could only beam and Lucerys couldn’t help but to smile back. Cregan’s smile has always been infectious, if the man was smiling it was most likely everyone else was too. 

“Do I need to be worried about you two scheming something?” 

Luke jumped, a small squeak past his lips while Jace only laughed loudly at him. 

“What the actual fuck dude! You can’t just sneak up on people like that!” 

“It was funny though,” Cregan chuckled and Luke only shot him a betrayed look. They were sharing a bonding moment and the damn wolf had to betray him right after. 

“Awful, the both of you.” 

Jace only laughed harder before he plopped himself right into Cregan’s lap. It was awfully gross how in love the two of them were, they were perfect for one another. Luke was not jealous. He was and it only made him feel more sick. 

“You love us,” Jace teased and Luke only smiled at that because his brother wasn’t wrong. It would take something huge and hurtful to get Luke to hate the two of them. Soon enough they were all laughing and at some point Baela and Rhaena joined them. Luke was so distracted he actually forgot about the jealousy of Aemond and his boyfriend until Bryan stumbled upon them. 

“You guys seem to be having a good time,” The man slurred and all of them stared at him. 

“Dude how drunk are you?” Jace asked and Bryan only grinned. 

“Blame Aegon for that, he challenged me to a drinking game.” 

“That’s a rookie mistake,” Cregan laughed and Bryan only smiled prettily at them. Luke kind of wanted to stab him. He could see how Jace narrowed his eyes at the man for smiling so sweetly at his boyfriend. 

“Yes, I think your father told me that afterwards.” 

Luke snickered, yeah that sounded like Daemon. He would let you walk into a mistake then laugh at you afterwards for being an idiot. 

“Well if you want, take a seat and join us for a bit. We are just talking really,” Baela offered and Bryan only beamed at them like he was a puppy before he happily got himself comfortable. 

“You know, I didn’t believe Aemond when he first told me that you bunch were wild. I thought he was just overreacting but god I was wrong. You lot are loud and so much fun.” 

And as if the universe wanted to prove Bryan right it was at that moment where Alicent squealed loudly. Luke glanced over to see his mother laughing loudly at her as she wiped tears from her eyes as Alicent continued to shriek about something while Daemon chuckled at the both of them. It was nice to see that they had decided to get along this time. 

“Too bad I won’t stick around long enough to get to know any of you,” Bryan sighed and everyone froze as they stared at him. Bryan actually seemed to be mourning, “As much as Aemond tries, he won’t keep anyone at this rate,” He continued to stammer as he sniffled and everyone glanced at one another, unsure of what to say.

“Bryan?” Jace said softly but Bryan only shook his head, drunk enough to have spilled his thoughts onto everyone. 

“He is in love with someone he can’t have apparently. A childhood friend or something? I don’t know but he is trying to replace this person he is in love with but it isn’t working, and I fear it never will.” 

“I don’t think-” Baela started but Bryan only shook his head once more. 

“I don’t even know why he brought me here, you know? Maybe give me a taste of something that I will never have? Aemond is cruel but so beautiful.” 

“Aemond is cruel,” Luke says and everyone turns to look at him, “But everyone is, and you saying all of this to his family is cruel as well. You are drunk, you should go.” 

Bryan only stared at him with tears in his eyes before he nodded slowly. It was pitiful to watch him struggle to stand up but eventually he stumbled away to find Aemond and Luke only felt anger as he looked away from everyone. He knew they were all staring at him and he was sure maybe they thought he was cruel for saying what he did. 

“Well shit, now what do we do?” Jace muttered and Luke finally looked at him. 

“Pretend that never happened.” 

“Luke-” 

“Pretend,” He said harshly before he took a breath and kept going but much more softer, “Pretend it didn’t happen. It is not our place to say anything to Aemond.” 

Eventually they all nodded and Lucerys could finally breathe for a moment even though his brain was stuck on the thought of who the hell is Aemond in love with. It was clear they all wanted to discuss it and weren’t sure if they were allowed too. All he knew was he didn’t want to be there when they did so he made some excuse and walked away from the group. 

Lucerys needed to think alone. 

(This is long so I inserted a keep reading here, hopefully you don't mind!)

It was three days after the family reunion and Luke was back at his mom’s place, curled up in his bed as he stared at the ceiling once again. His mind was still plagued with thoughts about who the hell this childhood friend was. All he had to work with was someone Aemond couldn’t have. Which wasn’t much to work with. 

Despite him telling the others to pretend Bryan didn’t spill his secrets out, by the end of the night everyone knew. Aemond even knew, they could all tell with how tense his uncle was by the end of the night, anger settled deep beneath his skin as Bryan only kept muttering under his breath. 

It wasn’t long until Aegon texted him saying Aemond and his now ex boyfriend had split up. 

He was not surprised. 

He was surprised when he woke up the next day with a text from Aemond himself. Thanking him for telling Bryan to go home and that had confirmed that Bryan did in fact remember everything he had said to them. He hopes Bryan regrets it. Regrets embarrassing Aemond like that and spilling his secrets. 

He had simply texted back and ever since then they keep in contact. It ranged from how their day was to silly stories to pictures of their cats. Luke adored it and maybe his hopes were up but this could be something here. A small part of him hoped maybe he was the one that Aemond couldn’t have even if his mind told him it possibly couldn’t be him. 

Why would Aemond be in love with the boy who took his eye when they were younger? 

It just wouldn’t make sense. But it seemed like Aemond was reaching out and if friendship was all it was going to be, well Lucerys could come to terms with that. No matter how much it would hurt. 

He was so busy day dreaming as he stared out the window of his room, he almost missed the vibration of his phone. He had almost missed the call but in his panic he managed to swipe to answer but he never got to see who exactly was calling him. Probably a scammer. 

“Hello this is Lucerys Velaryon speaking.” 

“Is that how you answer every phone call nephew?” 

“Aemond?” Luke asked in surprise, jerking a little bit before he steadied himself, leaning back against his pillows, “Didn’t expect you to call.” 

“Don’t have my phone contact saved?” Aemond asked amused and Luke only huffed. 

“I didn’t get to see who actually called me you jerk.” 

The sound of Aemond's deep laugh really shouldn’t have made his chest flutter as much as it should have at that moment. He decided that he loved the sound and wished he could hear more, maybe even be the cause of it more often. 

“That does sound like something you would do, doesn’t it?” Aemond said. 

Luke only grinned, “Oh hush you. Now, why did you call?” 

“What I can’t call my nephew now?” 

“You never called me before Uncle,” Luke was quick to answer and the silence was only brief but he knew that Aemond was trying to figure out what to say to that piece. 

“I want you to meet me if possible. I wanted to talk to you about something that isn’t over the phone.” 

Now that did catch his attention fully as he shifted slightly, “Okay where?” He asked without hesitation and he knew his Uncle was pleased with his curiosity. 

“I will pick you up in an hour, be ready. I don’t like to wait,” Was all Aemond told him before he hung up. 

Well, that’s interesting Lucerys thought to himself before he moved the phone away from his ear. He supposed he had to get ready now. And within an hour he was showered and dressed. He couldn’t remember what exactly he said to his mother but he knew he said some excuse before he was out the door and in his Uncle’s car. 

Aemond only gave him a brief nod, a smug smile on his lips before he was on the road. No matter how many times Luke asked where they were going, his Uncle wouldn’t give him an answer to his frustration. He could only hope that Aemond wasn’t taking him away to murder him and drop his dead body off somewhere. 

Turns out the place was Aemond’s fancy apartment. 

“Wait so you kidnapped me so you could take me to your place?” Lucerys asked and Aemond only shrugged as he opened his apartment door for Luke to go first. 

“It’s not like you know where I live, Lucerys.” 

God the way Aemond said his name was sinful. Now was not the time to think dirty thoughts Luke thought to himself. His Uncle would only tease him harshly about that if he ever were to find out how much Lucerys wanted him. 

Would probably feed his ego even more than it already has. 

Aemond was quick to have Luke sitting on the couch and it felt as if his Uncle was ready to confess every sin he had ever committed with the way Aemond sat on his own table, staring at him as if he was prized meat. Luke was tempted to call Aemond an animal, tease him for sitting on his own table but he held his tongue. His curiosity won over the urge to rile his Uncle up. 

Aemond was so pretty when frustrated and worked up. 

“Okay Aemond, you have me here. What did you want to talk about?” 

“You.” 

Luke only blinked in surprise before he tilted his head to the side, “Me?”

“Yes, you Lucerys.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you are the object of my desire,” Aemond confessed simply. 

Lucerys didn’t know what to say or even do as he stared at him in silence. Aemond seemed to have expected it as he kept going, as if he wasn’t giving Luke whiplash. 

“Bryan has spilled my secret and as much as it had angered me, he wasn’t wrong. And I know everyone is wondering who the hell it is I am in love with so I figured I would get it done and over with. That way if you were to reject me, I was hoping we would never speak of it again.” 

Lucerys only stared. But he did notice how scared Aemond actually was telling him all of this. He could tell that under all the carelessness he was trying to show, he was terrified of Luke rejecting him. Terrified of what Luke would say to him and it made him feel sad. 

Because after all of this time, Aemond probably thought that Luke would hold this over him and hurt him even more. More than he already has. Lucerys only felt terrible as he tried to hold his tears back. 

“Aemond-” 

“Why are you crying?” Aemond hissed and Luke wanted to curse at himself for being so damn sensitive. 

“I’m not crying because you are telling me this!” Luke yelled and Aemond only glared as if he didn’t believe him, “I am crying because you thought I would hurt you because of this.” 

That seemed to have taken Aemond by surprise as he only looked at him in bewilderment, as if he didn’t expect Luke to pick up on that fact. His Uncle would be even more surprised because Luke could read Aemond to some extent. Lucerys enjoyed watching Aemond and trying to figure him out but Aemond was so damn hard to read. 

“I know I have hurt you before,” That made Aemond narrow his eye at him and Luke wanted to burn in shame, “And I know you believe I could or I would hurt you once more. But I don't want to! I feel ashamed for hurting you so much Uncle and I know that doesn’t fix anything, that anything I do would never have you forgive me because I do not deserve that forgiveness.” 

“You’re right, it doesn’t fix anything Lucerys, but I have forgiven you for it.” 

“Well take that back then,” Luke begged and Aemond only widened his eye as he stared at him in silence but Luke wasn’t done, “And why would you love me? I took your damn eye! Don’t love me, you should hate me.” 

He probably would have kept going if Aemond didn’t grab his throat in his hand, his grip harsh as Lucerys briefly choked before his Uncle loosened his grip as he pulled him forward. The impact of his knees hitting the floor was harsh as he was dragged from the couch and Lucerys was quick to wrap his hands around Aemond’s wrist to ground himself. 

Aemond only brought his face closer to his so their noses brushed one another as he finally spoke. 

“And I did hate you, no, I despised you Lucerys. For so long I wanted to hurt you.” 

“Then what changed?” Luke gasped out and Aemond only chuckled darkly before he brought his other hand to pet his cheek. 

“I found that I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you. I don’t know when nephew, but my hatred towards you has changed to desire and no matter how much I tried to deny it, no matter how much I tried to find someone else you were there in the back of my mind. That was when I knew I would never be satisfied with anyone else. You have claimed me the day you claimed my eye.” 

Lucerys once again, found himself not knowing what to say and Aemond faltered a bit before he let go of his throat, pulling away and Lucerys only whined in distress briefly. Aemond stopped at the sound, staring at him once more and Luke had no idea what was happening. 

“Would you love me Uncle? Or would you ruin me?” Lucerys finally managed to ask and Aemond grinned. 

“I asked myself that for a long while, little one. I didn’t know the answer but I want to do both. I want to ruin you for anyone else and love you for I want you to be mine.” 

“I think you will be surprised to know how much I want to be yours, Aemond. I have wanted to be yours for a long time,” Lucerys confessed and Aemond only seemed to be relieved by the declaration. 

“Would you be mine no matter the consequence?” 

“Yes.” 

“Would you be mine without hesitation?” 

“Yes,” Luke breathed and Aemond fell onto his knees before him and gently reached out to cup his jaw, bringing him close. 

“Then be mine, Lucerys,” Aemond demanded and Luke reached out to grab onto his Uncle tightly. 

“I am yours, have been for a long time, Uncle.” 

Aemond only grinned at that and Lucerys allowed himself to be devoured, allowing himself to melt into the fire that was his Uncle as Aemond kissed him. As Aemond took what was his before he pulled back and Luke only whined once more as he forced his eyes to open to meet the gaze of Aemond. 

“I am yours as much as you are mine Lucerys. There is no going back, I will not allow anyone to have you.” 

Luke only nodded, “I don’t want anyone else, how many times must I say this?” 

“As many times as you can until I am satisfied little one.” 

“Then I will repeat it until you are satisfied.” 

“Good little one, good,” Aemond whispered before he claimed his mouth once more and Luke felt giddy at realizing that Aemond was his as much as he belonged to him. That he will no longer have to watch his love be with anyone other than him. He finally settled into the place he belonged. 

[lunarsilver]

What awaits you in October?

Pick the pile you're feeling drawn to and see what awaits you in the next October.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Tarot readings will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them and that’s okay too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason of making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

PILE 1

Tarot: Knave of Wands – Five of Pentacles (R) – The Tower (R) – Back of the Deck: King of Wands (R)

Knave of Wands and King of Wands in one pile, interesting. You will have a lot of passion and will to achieve your goal. So much energy to get your things done. Probably travelling somewhere or moving to another place, i. e. to study at an university in different city/country? There’s also a recovery from a loss or worse situation, especially related to money. While it definitely doesn’t mean that everything will be perfect, the worst is going to be over. The Tower in reverse sygnalizes a big change in your inner world. Remember to not clinge to the past, changes are needed. Instead of pretending everything is the same, try to prepare for what is coming. King of Wands in reverse warns you against unrealistic expectations and impulsiveness. Knave of Wands is a person who rather does and then thinks. While you’re not a page anymore, you’re still not the king. If you manage some project, acknowledge what the people doing it say.

Playing Cards: Six of Spades – Queen of Hearts – Seven of Diamonds – Back of the Deck: Nine of Hearts

Yes, small improvements and changes in your life again come up. A woman/more feminine person will play some important role in October for you, maybe mother figure, but a love interest came to my mind. Fair hair and/or Water placements. She has good intentions. There will be challenges at work, just like King of Wands in reverse said. 9 of Hearts talks about wishes, and being at the back of the deck, it is related to all the earlier cards. Most likely your wishes related to them will be fullfilled.

PILE 2

Tarot: The Moon (R) – Ten of Swords – Three of Pentacles (R) – Back of the Deck: Five of Wands

Looks like a tougher month for you, and the reason for it will be people around you, conflicts, challenging each other, rivalry, as you can see in Five of Wands. You may feel worse, but also be more in tune with your inner world. Listen to your intuition. A group conflict and backstabbing is pretty clear here, an end of something, propably a relationship (of any kind). Remember to take time for yourself and listen to your heart.

Playing Cards: Eight of Hearts – Queen of Diamonds – King of Spades – Back of the Deck: King of Clubs

Woah, that’s a lot of people. It shouldn’t surprise me, after all the first of the reading highlighted how important they will be for you this month. We’re starting with a positive note: there will be an unexpected gift or visit, or invitation somewhere, i. e. to a party. An important person for October will be a woman/more feminine person. Fair hair and/or Earth placements. She’s confident and outgoing. This card sometimes means a gossip. Next we have a man/more masculine person. Dark hair and/or Air placements. He’s ambitious, but also propably selfish. The most important person is also a man/someone masculine with darker hair or Fire placements. Propably older than you or in some position of power. Someone generous. We can assume he will be the person that will invite you somewhere/give you a gift and will be somehow related to the first two people.

PILE 3

Tarot: Judgment – The Star – Nine of Wands (R) – Back of the Deck: Queen of Cups (R)

When I saw Judgment and The Star, I’ve got the feeling that it will be a more spiritual month to you. Listen to your intuition. Some important decision awaits. You learned from your past experiences, and a new stage of your life is about to begin, an awakening of some sort. You’re a star, you’re healing, have hope. Don’t forget about it. There will be struggles, maybe not believing in yourself. Remember about your good qualities. It’s a time to focuse on yourself and know your worth. And again – intuition, listen to it! There is also many female characters on the cards, propably you will be more in tune with your feminine part.

Playing Cards: Five of Spades – Queen of Spades – Ace of Diamonds – Back of the Deck: Eight of Clubs

There will be some obstacles and eventual success. An important role will play a woman/more feminine person. Dark hair and/or Air placements, maybe a widow. There will be a good change, good news, maybe a gift, most likely related to this woman. There will be some difficulties in work, maybe inlove, jealousy, but the rest of the cards suggests you will deal with the problems.

[dark-twist-fairytales]

I just discarded an entire post by accident. Whoops. Anyways! Time for more bloodlines, this time.. The Rose bloodline! Whoo-hoo!

Now, you might be thinking 'which Rose?' Both of them! Ellie first, however:

-

Ellie Rose, born Eleanor Rose-Cue, is the twin sister to Sally Cue, born Sally Rose-Cue. Although it was hard to tell them apart as babies, Ellie started dying her hair around the age of 13-14. Any color, she had at one point, until she settled on a bright red, enjoying the vibrant look. Around this time, Sally gained glasses due to messing up her own sight by red in the dark with barely any light source. It got easy to tell them apart, and people barely believed they were twins!

Their parents were very pushy in what they wanted their children to do. They encouraged higher things: Lawyer, Doctor, Psychiatrist. They never expected a call from the school saying Ellie got into a fight and sent a kid to the hospital, defending her sister. This hit them with a harsh reality of their children NOT wanting to become anything like they said. And so, they started pushing harder.

More fights, detentions, explusions- All of it got WAY too much. They sent Ellie off to a boarding school, where she ran away and changed her last name to Rose, and shortened her first name by law to Ellie.

Sally got the blunt end of bullying, but eventually stood for her own. Turning 18 and graduating, she joined the police academy, cut her parents off, and changed her last named to Cue. Although she works as an accountant rather than on-field, she enjoys it more than people eexpect.

They have a very small family, having cut off over majority of them for various reasons, ranging from overly-religious to downright abusive. The only family member they had kept in contact with was their grandfather, who unfortunately passed while they were young.

Even after all these years, with Ellie's ever-growing criminal record, Ellie and Sally still keep in touch and are on very good terms.

---

Now, time for the OTHER Rose bloodline.

Jacob Rose was the second-youngest child to six siblings. Yikes. His older siblings, a brother and a sister, were his half siblings, having come from his father's first marriage. The middle two siblings, two sisters, came from his mother's first marriage, also making them his half siblings. Him and his younger brother are the only ones that are fully related. Three boys, three girls, and it was pretty clear to the outside world that the parents played favorites.

He doesn't hold it against any of his siblings, but it does stem a lot of trauma and nightmares. He never knew privacy, and anytime he did get it: He'd be lucky if he got a minute to himself.

Jacob was the least liked amongst the parents, despite trying his hardest, and this stemmed from being a "hard baby" and "keeping them up all night". In reality, Jacob suffers from chronic nightmares and sleep terrors. The terrors went away as he got older, but the nightmares stayed.

His grandparents weren't the most helpful, but they tried. The only one that was really helpful, was his step-grandmother from his father's first marriage. She actively included Jacob in things, despite him not being biologically related to him. She passed when Jacob was around 15.

Once Jacob turned 18, he packed up and ran away from home. Cops were called, and he was brought back. Three times. Before they finally deemed him a run-away and didn't retrieve him again. He completely cut his family off, started job-hopping, and eventually landed himself an apartment and a job at the museum at the age of 22.

Jacob doesn't talk about his family much, but when he does, it's about his grandparents and how sweet they were to him.

Unbeknownst to him: He has two nephews and a niece that have no clue about him, as well as another sibling.

[jacksonxellis]

[male, he/him] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [JACKSON ELLIS]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [ALEX FITZALAN]. You must be the [TWENTY-SIX] year old [ATTENDANT AT SURF'S UP SURF SHOP]. Word is you’re [PERSUASIVE] but can also be a bit [COCKY] and your favorite song is [SHAME BY YOUNG FATHERS]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [AURORA BAY DRIVE]. I’m sure you’ll love it!

TW: domestic violence

BASICS:

Full name: jackson ellis Nickname(s): jack, jax, jacky, ellis Birthdate: april 17 Birthplace: aurora bay, california Zodiac: aries sun, leo moon, scorpio rising Gender: cis man (he/him) Orientation: heterosexual Occupation: attendant at surf's up surf shop Time in town: all his life minus 3 months. @aurorabayaesthetic

PERSONALITY:

Positive traits: persuasive, charming, creative Negative traits: cocky, impatient, self-indulgent Fears: his dad and turning out like his dad Likes: surfing, biking, learning new subjects/languages, wood crafting, cooking, marijuana, women, the beach, Dislikes: his father, politics, people who stand to close to you that you can feel their breath on you, lukewarm beer Bad habit: perfectionism. BIO:

Jackson was born an only child, and it shows. Spoiled he was, but mostly by his mom. The image of a perfect family reigned in the household since his father started his political career by holding a position within the local government of Aurora Bay when Jackson was only 4 years old. There couldn't be any fault in the Ellis family or there would be consequences. Jackson had to be perfect and have the best grades and he did. In fact, Jackson was always in the top of his class growing up. He was popular as well, even in elementary, simply because of how charming and nice he was. His teachers would speak highly of him anytime there was a parent-teacher conference and his peers wanted to be around him all the time.

However, his behavior wasn't perfect to his father, whatever that meant, and his father had put his hands on little Jackson for the first time at the age of 7 years old, and many times after whenever he would 'mess' up or get caught for 'misbehaving'. His mother never had a clue about it as Jackson kept quiet. This continued up until he started dating Liza.

Once high school started, he became a little rebellious. He kept his grades up but he'd skip classes here and there, he'd smoke weed, and he wouldn't uphold appearances as his father would ask of him. It was part of being a teenager as his mother would say. Junior year is when Jackson's life was completely flipped as it was the year his father officially became Mayor of Aurora Bay. Jackson had to attend events, he had to be cautious of who he spoke to, what he was doing, and what he would say to his friends about his fathers career because consequences were much harsher.

It wasn't until he had skipped class one day that the perfect family image that he had to uphold was shattered. He wasn't expecting anyone to be home. All he wanted was to smoke a bowl of weed and hang out on the beach for the day. So when he walked inside his house, the last thing he was expecting was to see his father with another woman. He was livid. How could his father do this to his mother? It disgusted him. He had to tell his mother, and when he told her-another unexpected outcome came out. His mother knew it all along. His father had affairs with other women throughout his life. He asked his mother why she would stay with someone like that, and her answer… "I love him. And it's normal for men to have these fantasies, so I let him." This caused a huge change in his relationships with both his father and mother. He never looked at them the same. He couldn't talk to anyone about it because if word got out - it would ruin his fathers image. And then he met Liza Levin during his senior year, and she helped aid the pressure he felt. It was nice to connect with someone who he could relate to. He could tell her anything though he never told her about the abuse. He trusted her with everything. He fell in love with her. She was everything that he needed. His parents, especially his father approved of Liza so much so that he jumped at the chance to live with her once high school was over because it meant he'd get away from his own dysfunctional parents and he did see a future with her.

Whether he should've pushed for better boundaries, or maybe he should've let up on the charm - the grass seemed to be greener on the other side. It happened on his birthday, "Honey came in and she caught me red-handed" in their bed with another woman that wasn't Liza. He couldn't take it back. He knew what he had done. He in fact admired Liza for leaving him. She deserved better than that. Since then, his mothers words about his father have haunted him. The last thing he wants is to become his father, but that was set in motion the moment he cheated.

These past eight months have been the longest Jackson has been away from Aurora Bay. It's been quite healing as he's been in therapy since he left AB. A whole new life... but San Francisco isn't Aurora Bay. Call it home sickness because his last night out with friends ended in a very much drunk Jackson crying about how much he missed Aurora Bay and the beach. It was embarrassing, but he knew he had to come back. Luckily, his mom sold their house on Aurora Bay Drive and bought herself a condo in SF and a house on Seabrook Quarter where Jackson will be living and paying rent on it.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

ex-girlfriend: @thelizaxlevin

enemy: @wesxevans

Hookup before he left: @helenasoarcs

friends: @trcvis @heyits-asher @luckylewis

best friend:

two suspects become friends: @ulyflynn

[thenightisland]

Tagged by @wicked-felina

What book are you currently reading?

i’m rereading robin hobb’s books, which i finished in december. i tried to read like five or six books, failed, and started rereading them ten days later. 

i’m also reading a collection of rupert brooke’s poetry. and a prayer for the crown-shy by becky chambers.

What's your favourite movie you saw in a cinema this year?

so i have auditory processing problems and over the years it’s gotten to where seeing movies in theaters largely isn’t enjoyable for me bc i miss so much. so i wait and watch movies at home where i can have subtitles (it’s too much of a fight to get them in theaters). on the rare occasion i see a movie in theaters it’s a book to movie adaptation bc well i already know what happens. so the last movie i saw in theaters was little women in 2019.

What do you usually wear?

stede bonnet would approve of my wardrobe. very colorful and extra. dresses 90% of the time.

How tall are you?

5′5″ish

What's your star sign?

libra

Do you share your birthday with a celebrity or historical event?

i am birthday buddies with olivia newton john and ts eliot.

Do you go by your name or a nickname? 

i go by my name bc idk what else to do tbh but my mother literally chose the name karen bc it was hard to turn into a nickname. little did she know i would live in the worst possible era to be named karen.

Did you grow up to be what you wanted to be as a child?

one of child-me’s most frequent answers to what do you want to be when you grow up was librarian, unsurprisingly. i decided to be mature and responsible in high school bc i wanted to be able to guarantee making enough money to live so i went into healthcare. little did i know i would end up living in the worst possible era to be a nurse.

Are you in a relationship? Who is your crush if not?

i’m in my lol fuck that era where relationships and crushes are concerned 

What's something you're good at versus something you're bad at?

sounds dumb to say but i’m good at organizing and cataloging things lol. i also have a green thumb and try to keep my yards as full of flowers and trees as possible. i am not crafty and i cannot cook to save my life (i have not turned on a stove or oven since 2015)

Dogs or cats?

i always grew up with both and only in the last year or two have just had a cat instead of at least one of each. cats are a little more practical for me and my lifestyle, but i love both equally.

What's something you'd like to create content for?

i’m fucking around with some robin hobb related stuff at the moment. we’ll see.

What's something you're currently obsessed with?

i am so sorry that so many of these answers include the name “robin hobb” in them BUT lol 

What's something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

it’s early in the year yet so nothing has had the opportunity to significantly disappoint me. and to be disappointed in something you have to have had a shred of hope and expectation to begin with and i’m good at assuming the worst instead.

What's a hidden talent of yours?

most of my talents are known factors about me. the closest i come to a hidden one is that i sing, because i hate singing for people.

Are you religious?

i was raised catholic. i haven’t set foot in a church service since 2010 bc that was when i was no longer forced to go. catholicism never leaves you alone so despite the fact that i have not a shred of actual faith in me, no intention of having a relationship with god, and actively avoid religious services, i also still have an obscene number of rosaries and love to visit catholic churches when they’re empty for a sense of calm and peace and wear relevant medals of saints when i’m having a rough go of it, as if st cecilia can actually help me with my poetry block or musical struggles.

What's something you wish to have at this moment? 

i’d like to have my full vocal abilities back lol. i had covid in december and the symptoms lingered for about a month and i’ve only just recently started trying to get my singing voice back to where it was and it has been a goddamn ordeal after so many weeks of not singing.

tagging @tragediegh

[end-of-the-world-optimist]

"On television, death is often a cheap device, used to precipitate a change in the narrative arc, write out an actor who wants to leave, or as a ploy for ratings. Although some of these factors were in play in "The Body" — the death of Buffy's mother, Joyce, also marked a turning point for Buffy's maturity into adulthood — "Buffy" creator Joss Whedon seemed more interested in using the episode to show, simply, how surreal and even physically strange grief can be, in a media landscape that often focuses on the more dramatic pain and catharsis involved with mourning a loved one. "What I really wanted to capture was the extreme physicality, the extreme — the almost boredom of the very first few hours," Whedon said in the episode's DVD commentary. He was drawing on his first-person experiences: when he was 27, his mother died in a car accident."

...

"'It's safe to say that death and grief related to it are almost entirely absent from Western pop culture. Popular movies and TV series rarely include realistic scenes of grief and bereavement,' says Raffaello Antonino, PhD, a psychologist and the clinical director and founder of Therapy Central. When death and grief are portrayed, it's often unrealistically, he adds."

...

"Another TV show that helped me walk through my mother's death was The Midnight Gospel, a Netflix adult-cartoon series by Adventure Time creator Pendleton Ward and comedian Duncan Trussell. The show follows a space caster named Clancy Gilroy who travels through planets within a simulator, while he interviews guests he has for his space cast.

In season one, episode eight, titled 'Mouse of Silver', Trussell interviews his own mother, Deneen Fendig. The episode starts funny, sweet, and sentimental, before the conversation turns to Fendig's ongoing battle with cancer. It's quickly revealed that she's been told she only has six months to live. What follows is an honest, touching, and thought-provoking conversation about mortality and accepting that losing those we love is a given.

When I discovered this episode, it was May 12, 2020 — a few days before my mother's birthday, and about 18 months since she passed away. The world was in the throes of the first wave of the coronavirus pandemic. I'd chosen the episode for its name alone, expecting a light and fun watch, and ended up silently sobbing on my couch.

During the conversation, Fendig talks about the fallacy of trying to avoid conversations about one's own and one's loved ones' mortality. At one point, Trussell asks if she'd given any advice to people dealing with death right now.

"I would tell them to cry when they need to cry. And to turn toward this thing that's called death. Turn toward it. And even if you're afraid to turn toward it, turn toward it. It won't hurt you. And see what it has to teach you. It's a tremendous teacher, free of charge," his mother says.

"Well, I love you very much, obviously," Trussell says.

"I love you too," she says. "And, Duncan, that kind of love isn't going anywhere. That's another thing you find. That I may leave this plane of existence sooner rather than later . . . but the love isn't going anywhere. I'm as certain of that as I am of anything."

I'd never heard anyone speak like that before, and it showed me a new way of grieving, or thinking about grieving — a way of accepting that the love doesn't go away, even though the one you love is gone."

...

"Generally speaking, Buffy the Vampire Slayer doesn't really deal with death and bereavement," Dr. Antonino points out. "Buffy kills all sorts of creatures in practically each and every episode. Still, these deaths have nothing to do with real grief and loss." But in "The Body," just like in real life, Buffy isn't able to fight a demon to bring her mother back to life. Instead, she must surrender to it, just like any of us have to. I think that's why the episode feels so special: it's not magic, it's real. It can happen to any of us. It will happen to all of us. And that's the point.

"[Death] doesn't give you anything," Whedon says in the interview with Metro, "Death is the thing that Buffy cannot fight, it renders her meaningless. And the episode feels like a reminder of that human experience. I think [The Body] is probably the best thing I've done and the best thing I will ever do."

[theblogofruth]

"The Cub." From the Book of Ruth 3: 10-15.

Ruth, at the advice of her-mother-in-law Naomi goes to hook up with the old village chicken hawk, Boaz, and together they hang...they hang it up, in fact. After the failed match, Boaz offers to sell her downstream to a younger man.

She does not get too excited at the prospect. Ruth is not a well woman.Ruth is supposed to be searching for a new husband as her first one died but all she is really doing is being promiscuous, and with men who are not able to keep up with her.

The symmetry of our story must include the individual, the nation, and the human race. This is not a story about being fickle or even naive, it is a story about failing to grasp the implications of one's standard of living.

Boaz calls Ruth a noble character which is sarcasm talk for the fact she is a princess acting like an unpaid whore. She has developed a reputation and it is not one befitting a landowner who is capable of being a landlady.

Let's discuss for a moment what the story would be like if Ruth was officially a paid sex worker, a prostitute. In Torah talk, this would mean she was a government official who was able to levy a fee for the process of governance to people who were not in her class.

Instead, she slept with a man in her class who does not need her and she is not even generating any income she can invest in the rest of her enterprise, so her widowhood continues, and the "man" the people continue in their deprivation.

Ruth is supposed to develop and execute a vision that benefits others, but she keeps laying down with random animals in the Threshing House, the imperioal palace instead, and this is forbidden because it cannot result in Shabbos.

According to Jewish tradition, royals are supposed to marry outside the religion and grow the footprint of God's Torah Authority. We know this is lost on Ruth, because of instead of a marriage proposal Boaz gives Ruth an offer of another man's hand and six handfuls of barley, #1352, agave, gravity, bad news...she needs to delve into even more religion. He gave her nothing but paste. Now observe how he says it:

10 “The Lord bless you, my daughter,” he replied. “This kindness is greater than that which you showed earlier: You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor. 

11 And now, my daughter, don’t be afraid. I will do for you all you ask. All the people of my town know that you are a woman of noble character. 

12 Although it is true that I am a guardian-redeemer of our family, there is another who is more closely related than I. 

13 Stay here for the night, and in the morning if he wants to do his duty as your guardian-redeemer, good; let him redeem you. But if he is not willing, as surely as the Lord lives I will do it. Lie here until morning.”

14 So she lay at his feet until morning, but got up before anyone could be recognized; and he said, “No one must know that a woman came to the threshing floor.”

15 He also said, “Bring me the shawl you are wearing and hold it out.” When she did so, he poured into it six measures of barley and placed the bundle on her. Then he[c] went back to town.

Now Ruth "the assistant vision" was apparently breaking a Torah rule. We always pursue the interests of younger men. They are the ones that get to have visions, not us senior citizens. This is one reason Boaz told her she was not in the right place having careless anonymous relations with a time that had passed. History will not move forward within such a union. Recall Ruth was Moabite, a traditionalist. She was doing what was expected of her rather than what was needed of her.

Boaz, "nearness to the vision" but not its culmination, tells her to move in closer still to her proper performance and to find proper partners in its execution. He is very careful to ensure their liaison is not recognized. Security in government is never because of a comfort level with our emotions or superstitions or habits. It is always financial, and investment in lasting peace and prosperity.

A young virile sexy woman who knows her way around the barnyard but who cannot stay married to a younger less experienced polity is no good. Under these circumstances the transfer of experience to a more heroic class will not take place and things will not change.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 10: You have not run after a younger man. The Number is 10832, י'‎ףלב‎, ya flev, "do what you are supposed to do, perform your function."

The Line of Succession in the generations in the Torah always favors the youngest person. They grow up so fast and if they grow up improperly, nothing important in human history will happen,

v. 11:  And now don’t be afraid. Fear is not a night terror of the thing under the bed, but of what will happen the next day. One day at a time does not mean we need to learn how to cope but how to force the issues that will help humanity evolve. This process must involve a results driven approach a senior person understands and younger people who do not yet understand.

Now it seems Ruth's sluttiness actually has possiblities...

The Number is 10113, ייאג‎‎, yeag, "you, the Agg, the angelic messenger, will be killed."

Young people are shocked by what happens the next day but they do not yet necessarily experience an adult's trepidation about it unless they are told about the endgame and told what to do to win it.

In the Torah, man always tried to rape and kill the Messengers, never got away with it and then God got mad and killed everybody. The only time this worked out was in the beginning of the Torah when Abraham met with three of them.

Failure to heed the Messengers results in floods, fires, droughts, wars, famines, and slavery. These are not lessons man can learn from, they must be avoided. We refuse to listen and have not avoided any of our prior mistakes, so the Messengers - mega disasters- will continue to come.

So the goal, the endgame is to kill the Harbingers of Disaster, by giving them nothing to do.

v 12. Although it is true that I am a guardian-redeemer of our family, there is another who is more closely related than I. The only redeemer that can be called the protector guardian of Israel was Moses. Except even he did not finish the job and establish Israel, he only established its liberation. The only thing that can really reedeem Israel is the Shoftim, the Jewish Self.

The Number is 5409, "the apest echo", "the offset acre", = "recognition of the acquisition of the consciousness." AKA "full acquaintance."

v. 13: Stay here for the night, and in the morning if he wants to do his duty as your guardian-redeemer, good; let him redeem you. But if he is not willing, as surely as the Lord lives I will do it. Lie here until morning.” = Keep lying to yourself all night long unless you are really a dumbass. The Torah Mishnah is specific, one must make a Report at midnight, follow the Shema and then what is called a Rena or the conditions that resulted in the need for redemption will persist.

Shema is obedience, but Rena, or the masculine form called an Aron, is something else altogether. It is pertinent to what is happening with Ruth who does not want to do the work of finding a hot young rivet, a hot box, a wild goat that is more her match:

"We know that a word similar to aron (see below) occurred in Egyptian, and that it there also denoted some kind of box. But perhaps these words were so readily incorporated into Hebrew because it now seems as if the word aron denotes an item with the same characteristics as a cedar or fir. Perhaps that characteristic is nimbleness, as has been proposed, but perhaps it is strength and durability.

Another possibility is that both roots ארן ('rn) were popularly connected to the verb רנן (ranan), meaning to give a ringing cry (see below):

The root ארן ('rn I) isn't used in the Bible so we don't know what it might have meant to Hebrew speakers. But the renowned theologians Simonis and Gesenius assume it is similar to an Arabic verb meaning to be agile or nimble. A Syriac noun seems to be similar, and that denotes a certain kind of wild goat. BDB Theological Dictionary reports of a similar Aramaic noun that too means wild goat.

However, our root also yields the masculine noun ארן ('oren), which means fir or cedar and is used in the Bible only by Isaiah (Isaiah 44:14, along with the curiously look-alike words ארז ('erez) and תרז (tirza), both also denoting trees).

It's possible that our verb ארן ('rn) is related to the verb רנן (ranan; see below), and that the noun ארן ('oren) doesn't denote a specific tree but rather a tree that rustles or creaks in the wind.

The sound of the wind through the trees might sound as a large group of people cheering; 1 Chronicles 16:33 has trees sing for joy before the Lord.

Perhaps this noun ארן ('aron) is related to רנן (ranan) in that it doesn't simply denote some box, but rather an object that was typically designed to be in the middle of cheering and noise."

The Number is 11127, י'‎א'קבז‎, gakubiz, "the moment a cub is."

=

"to outrank the head and steer it. To control the beast, to make it go in search of wisdom. Like a cloud steers the rain."

A small cluster of very common Greek words have made it into everlasting linguistic glory by forming the source of our English words "government" and "cybernetics". But to the dismay of purists, it's no longer clear where these words ultimately derive from: the trail runs cold at the Greek verb κυβερναω (kubernao), meaning to steer, and particularly to act as the helmsman of a ship — and the word ναυς (naus), meaning ship, is closely related to the word ναος (naos), meaning temple, as we discuss in our article on the latter.

The provenance of our verb κυβερναω (kubernao), to steer, is formally obscure, but, as one might imagine, here at Abarim Publications we have something to say about that.

Our guess is that our verb represents the confluence of many tributaries, but most obviously relates to a group of words that have to do with bending or curving, and particularly with bending the head downward and thus with directing the head to where it would not naturally have gone. Ultimately, we suspect that our verb κυβερναω (kubernao) may have originated in the Hebrew verb כפף (kapap), meaning to bend or curve (hence the names Cephas and Caiaphas).

The noun κυβηνα (kubena), describes an old lady, and particularly a stooped old lady, as the adjective κυβηβος (kubebos) and adverb κυβδα (kubda) mean stooped. Both appear to derive from the verb κυπτω (kupto) or even κυψω (kupso), to stoop or bend forward (see further below), as used in the Septuagint's version of Psalm 10:10 but also frequently in Homer's��Iliad.

Also in the Iliad, as well as some other texts, occurs the verb κυβισταω (kubistao), meaning to tumble head first (obviously into a direction where this head would not naturally have gone), which could only exist by virtue of an unrecorded, and thus assumed, noun κυβη (kube), meaning head.

Where this noun κυβη (kube), head, might have come from is still a mystery, but it clearly reminds of words like the German Kopf, head, the Sanskrit kupah, hollow, and thus the Latin word cupa, any hollow thing, which in turn leads back to the Greek κυπη (kupe), which describes a kind of ship, probably one with a decisively large hold. Another Greek word for hollow (anything from natural harbors to ships' holds) is κοιλος (koilos), from which comes κοιλια (koilia), meaning belly or womb.

This still does not wholly explain our word κυβη (kube), head, but the letter κ (k) does have a tendency to attach itself to roots in a way that reminds of the familiar prefix εκ (ek), out of. This prefix normally becomes ex when fixed to a vowel, but in some cases it appears to morph into a hard k, while dropping the leading e.

Take for instance the verb καυχαομαι (kauchaomai), to loudly declare, which comes from the noun αυχην (auchen), neck or throat. That means that our noun κυβη (kube) may very well have something to do with the Proto-Indo-European root "uper-", from which also comes the English "over", the German über and the Greek υπερ (huper). That would make κυβη (kube), an ex-uber, or out-of-top. Not bad.

Noun קוף (qop) means round-head, and כוף (kop), literally means a "round one", and describes a round basket, whose contents are revealed when its top comes off.

And of course, there's the mysterious sort of wood called גפר (goper), whose name occurs only once in recorded Scriptures (namely in Genesis 6:14), but which may have had something to do with what the Greeks called κυπαρισσος (kuparissos), the cypress tree, which in turn may have given its name to the island of Cyprus, from which in turn comes our word for copper.

Copper marks the point in humanity's development where our ancestors transcended the manipulation of nature as found, and began to use technology to manipulate nature into yielding what it wouldn't yield on its own. And that links copper to our verb.

As we discuss in our article on the verb צרף (sarap), meaning to perform metallurgy (hence also the name Zarephath), the art of metallurgy became synonymous with the art of the pursuit of reason and wisdom.

As modern linguists have determined, logic and systematic or categorical thought is not possible without words (read our article on ονομα, onoma, meaning name or noun) and the willful making of all aspects of language is really the same thing as the willful making of anything metal.

The Greek verb μεταλλαω (metalleo) means to search carefully or inquire diligently. The derived noun μεταλλον (metallon) denotes a mine or quarry (the place where men search for nature's hidden treasures).

This Greek noun became the Latin word metallum, and denoted both a mine or what came out of a mine, and that is how English received its word "metal". The word "metal" literally means "something diligently searched for" and should be synonymous with the word "word".

In Hebrew the word for copper is נחש (nahash), which is identical to a verb that means to divine or soothsay, which is identical to the Bible's common word for snake.

And so, the technological revolution that would bring humanity so much blessing, was also mankind's greatest curse, as the snake hid in the tree and seduced Eve. The snake would bruise man's heel (עקב, 'aqeb, hence the name Jacob), but man would bruise the snake's head (ראש, ro'sh).

What the ultimate head of the great snake of technology might turn out to be is not wholly clear just yet, but the chances are excellent that it will have something to do with the Internet, or rather the Internet of Things.

This Internet of Things will surely be mankind's greatest blessing, on the proviso that it in turn is captained or governed by the Word of God, like a rider who controls his beast, like a crown of light upon a head of hair.

This Word of God has of course nothing to do with any kind of religion or even any kind of human organization (all willful human organization is part of the snake) but rather with the freedom of a small group of people who form a kind of spontaneous and self-organizing Internet of Living Minds by utilizing freely available natural principles. Like rain in clouds, if you will.

Our verb κυβερναω (kubernao) means to steer, or rather to direct the head, or even more precise: to be above the head of a creature and direct that creature by outranking the head of it."

v. 14: So she lay at his feet until morning, but got up before anyone could be recognized; and he said, “No one must know that a woman came to the threshing floor.” The Number is 7856, זחה‎ו, "crawled."

A crawl is Gematria for "a haunted sanctuary, a haunted house," AKA a life or community of lives that are crawling through their mistakes.

Hauntings happen because the dead cannot move on and neither can the living. People who feel as if they are constantly failing are haunted by their failures. This is not a good thing for anyone to experience but when the government which is law and duty bound to prevent and improve upon its mistakes, we get a haunted mansion and it is very difficult to escape from it.

The answer is to throw open the drapes, open the windows, remove the slip covers, find a young man who has hair on his chest and exorcise the ghosts. This is the only way to ensure as Boaz says the past will no longer be recognizable.

v. 15: He also said, “Bring me the shawl you are wearing and hold it out.” When she did so, he poured into it six measures of barley and placed the bundle on her. Then he[c] went back to town. The Number is 10519, י'‎ךיט, y'kit, "wrap it up, close it up, enclose the letter to the elite."

The letter is called a tzav, צו, which means "the edict, social order is an imperative." = as near to God as we can get.