#and he delights in the fact b is TERRIFIED of piercings

[sincurse]

Write a bit about v/b and maybe you'll calm down.

[yugirl]

Day 11: "Bonding - H2O"

Break out your calculators today and celebrate math and science with our favourite nerd, Daichi/Bastion Misawa!

((whoops wrote a whole episode… tw for hair pulling and verbal abuse))

@gxmonth

Bastion was trying so desperately to lose himself in his piano playing, trying to calm himself, trying to escape the real world. 

He was still shaking. His teacher, Ms Mutou, had duelled Tania to defend him and Jaden, and as a result, she got violently sick. The fact she was pregnant did not help…

While she was being treated, he panicked and left the infirmary and escaped to the music room. He was hoping his piano playing would provide some form of comfort when his anxiety was giving him hell.

Great job, Bastion! You did it again!

Ms Mutou and her baby are going to die, and it's your fault

Murderer!

It's your fault. It's your fault. IT'S YOUR FAULT!!

Bastion slammed his fingers on the piano keys, the discord of the sounds upsetting him more. He just slumped and sobbed.

"Bastion?"

The Ra Yellow student flinched and looked to the doorway, seeing Chazz standing there awkwardly.

"what the heck was that about…? I know you probably feel guilty because Tania manipulated you, but… did you really need to run off like that?"

"Go away, Chazz!" Bastion sobbed, "You wouldn't understand!"

"Hey…" Chazz said quietly. "what's going on…."

"I… it… it's about mother…."

"What… what does have to do with Ms Mutou?" Chazz asked, not getting it at all.

"M… my mother died when she had me… I was born via emergency c-section after… My father hates me for it… he says it's my fault."

"wait… is THAT why he stole the piano and sold it to the academy!?" Chazz sputtered. He remembered Bastion mentioning it in the past. 

Bastion's father had sold his wife, Bastion's late mother's, piano when Bastion was in middle school. He didn't believe Bastion deserved to look at it, let alone play it. But as Bastion said, the joke was on him as now it was at the Academy, and Bastion could now play it every day.

"and now Ms Mutou is going to die because of me too!" He sobbed

"Hey! hey! Hey!" Chazz snapped and grabbed Bastion by the shoulders. "Shut. Up. This is not your fault!"

"B-But i-if I didn't lose to Tania-"

"Ms Mutou is going to be fine! You know how pushy and stubborn she is!" Chazz assured. "It's not your fault… What happened to your mom wasn't your fault either…."

Bastion sniffled. He wasn't convinced but nodded.

"Ah… so here it is…."

Bastion froze, paralysed with fear. Chazz had never seen him this terrified before.

He slowly turned around to see a tall man in a black suit, buttoned tight. Well kept brown hair and a pair of YSL glasses sitting meticulously on his nose.

"Father…"

THAT was Bastion's dad!? Chazz was shaken. The man radiated an ice coldness and had a piercing stare.

Bastion stood up. "Father, why are you here."

"I came to collect Rosalie's Piano."

"B-but it's the Academy's now! besides, you have no right to it since YOU sold it in the first place!" Chazz piped up

"Don't talk about things you don't understand, boy… "Bastion's father said coldly. "This murderer doesn't have the right to be near it!"

"No, Chazz is right!" 

The older man was taken aback. "You dare talk back to me, boy?!" "Yes, actually I do!" Bastion retorted, "You can't just repurchase it just because you don't want me to have it!! it's inconsiderate to the other students of the school!"

"Oh, I made sure to pay the school handsomely for it!" His father assured.

"I… I WON'T LET YOU HAVE IT!!" Bastion shouted only to have his hair grabbed by his father, which he proceeded to shake from side to side violently

"Don't you dare raise my voice at me, you inconsiderate ingrate!!"

"Let go of him, you asshole!!" Chazz snapped, trying to pry Mr Misawa's fingers off.

Chancellor Shepherd entered the room and was understandably shocked at the display.

"Mr Misawa! What is the meaning of this!?" he gasped.

Chazz finally managed to pry Bastion free, and both pulled away, huffing with relief it was over. Bastion hurriedly fixed his hair and gave Chazz a quick "thanks…."

Chazz nodded back in response before glaring at the man before them. "Like we said, you can't have it!"

"You're not getting mother's Piano…." Bastion said firmly. "I won't let you!!"

Chancellor Shepherd seemed concerned. After Mr Misawa's actions, he wasn't exactly keen to do business with him. But on the other hand, the funding would be helpful in the long run…. But clearly, this piano meant a lot to these two students, and they were helping him protect the world from the shadow riders.

There was only one way to settle it.

"Both of you clearly want the piano as it has significant sentimental value to both of you… so I suggest we follow Duel Academy's protocol and duel for it…."

"Fine by me! I'll face you, and I'll make sure mother's piano stays with me!"

Daiki Misawa stared down at his son, uttering nothing more than a "very well."

Jade, Syrus, Alexis and the others heard the news that Bastion was duelling. However, they were not aware of who he was duelling and why.

Bastion picked out his element dragon deck and turned to look at his father. "Let's duel."

"Indeed"

Jaden noticed Chazz standing stiffly, watching the duel intensely.

"Hey, Chazz! What's going on? who's duelling Bastion?"

"That creep over there? That's Bastion's old man," Chazz said coldly.

"His dad? but why?" Syrus asked, confused.

"He's trying to buy the piano in the music room. Bastion's the only thing standing in his way of getting it."

Chumley didn't follow "Why would Bastion and his dad duel for a piano?"

Alexis' brows furrowed. She knew why. "The piano belonged to Bastion's late mother… it means everything to him."

She understood perfectly, her mother's scarf holding the same significance. 

Jaden started to get angry. How could Bastion's father do this?! that was just cruel…

"KICK HIS ASS BASTION!!"

The others immediately hushed him, but Bastion instead looked at Jaden and nodded, determined.

The duel began similarly to Bastion's duel against Chazz earlier in the year when Chazz was an arrogant Obelisk Blue student. Fortunately for Bastion, his father made the same moves, and in turn, mistakes as Chazz did back then.

Chazz smirked. If Bastion played his cards right, he would have this in the bag.

Bastion, however, chose to summon his Water Dragon a few moves earlier, commanding an attack against his father's Chithonian Soldier. However, his father played the trap card draining shield, boosting his life points to 3800.

Bastion muttered but set two cards faced down and ended his turn.

that's when Daiki smirked. "I've been waiting for you to play that stupid dragon! I play Eria the Water Charmer in attack mode!"

"Oh no!" Bastion gasped. He wasn't prepared for that. 

"What's going on!?" Syrus squeaked.

"As long as Eria is face-up on the field, Bastion is in big trouble… because now Water Dragon is under his control!!" Alexis explained

"oh no!!"

"Now, Water Dragon! attack!!"

"Not so fast!! I activate the quick play spell super rush headlong to eliminate water dragon!"

"What?!"

Water Dragon was destroyed, and Bastion was spared… but two more monsters remained, and he only had 1000 life points.

"Now I attack with Chithonian solder!"

"I activate my trap card! Magic Cylinder!"

"you…"

Daiki's life points went down to 1800.

"Well, you're out of spell and trap cards now… I attack with Eria!!"

Bastion cried out. He was down to 500 life points with no monsters and no spell cards on the field…

"Don't give up, Bastion!!" Jaden pleaded

"Slacker's right! it ain't over till the last card is played!!" Chazz jumped in.

Bastion knew they were right, but… what hope did he have? his ace monster was destroyed… there was no hope in his deck now, was there?

"I'm sorry, Mother… I wasn't good enough…."

He suddenly heard the sound of someone munching.

"You're not seriously crying over a spilt dragon puddle, are you?"

Bastion blinked and turned to see a small girl munching on a bag of prawn chips. Wait, this wasn't any small girl…

"White Magician Pikeru?"

"You know Water Dragon isn't the only ace monster in your deck, right, loser?" Pikeru scoffed, not at all as cute as her character design. No, this one looked more like a bratty kid. "Or did Mr Prepared for everything forget how prepared he really was!"

"What?… no, your right… there's one more card…."

"Well, go on then, moron!! draw it so we can get this monster out of your life forever!!"

"Right… Chazz and Jaden are right… it's not over until the last card is played!!" Bastion concentrated and drew his last card, just what he needed.

"I activate the magic card, Raging Plasma!!"

"Raging Plasma?!"

"I've never seen Bastion play that card before!" Alexis gasped.

"By sacrificing    my last two Oxygeddons and my Caboneddon, I can summon my second Ace Monster!"

"You have a second ace monster?!"

"That's right, Water Dragon has a sister, don't you know? and she's far less merciful than her brother."

A spark of flame appeared before it raged with great intensity.

"Say hello to Fire Dragon!!"

"Whoah… that heat is intense…." Chumley mumbled.

"Fire Dragon… cool!!" Jaden gasped in awe.

"Fire Dragon! Attack Eria!!"

Daiki fell back, and his life points went down to 0.

Bastion sighed, relieved. It was over. He won.

Jaden and Chazz let out a whoop of delight, ecstatic their friend would be able to keep his mother's piano.

Daiki cursed and got up. "You may keep it now, murderer, but it won't be yours forever… you won't be able to protect it once you graduate."

"That's where you're wrong!"

Chazz stood up, holding a chequebook. "I'll be purchasing the piano. Is this a sufficient amount, Chancellor?"

Chancellor Shepherd looked at the cheque carefully. It wasn't much higher than Mr Misawa's offer. Still, at this point, the chancellor wanted him off the island. "hmmm, yes, Chazz, I'd say it is!"

"Well, there you have it! the piano stays here and when Bastion graduates, it's going with him, so suck it!"

Daiki growled but left after that.

Bastion ran up to Chazz and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Chazz… thank you…."

Chazz blushed, but instead of repelling, he hugged back. "Don't mention it… I know you'd do the same for me…."

"Bastion, that was awesome!!" Jaden shouted, joining in the group hug. "that was your best duel!"

"What are you talking about? He would've lost if I didn't tell him about Fire Dragon!"

"Huh?"

Chazz held back a groan. "Oh no! You got a duel spirit too?"

"You can see her?" Bastion asked, bewildered.

"Sure can!" Jaden chuckled. "Welcome to the club, Bastion!"

"I'm happy the be included!" Bastion smiled.

"Welcome to the family, Pikeru!" Ojama Yellow squawked. 

"Yeah, whatever, weirdo!"

"Oh no, she speaks Chazz!" Jaden laughed.

Bastion smiled. He felt glad he had such a wonderful group of friends and was relieved his mother's piano would stay with him. 

Unbeknownst to the trio, As Bastion played Clair de Lune to celebrate his victory, a fifth spirit watched over them.

She wasn't a duel spirit like Winged Kuriboh, Pikeru or the Ojamas, but a spirit nonetheless. As the trio enjoyed the music, she smiled.

"Bastion… I'm so proud of you… My precious son…."

[damn-the-dark]

Vampire Damien??? Vampire Damien!!!!!

Yes? Yes!! owo)b I whole-heartedly agree!! 

>:3c

(oop almost forgot to tag @boopymooplier ;w;)/ )

Words: 3200

Pairings: Damien x Reader (Y/N the DA)

Warnings: Blood, Blood drinking, Descriptions of death, Cursing, Vampires, Actor being a binch, my writing if it can be called that, sadness, my uwu’s

——

“Wake up, Damien.”

His eyes struggled open, unfocused, searching for the source of the voice. A playful hum came from above him and he strained to tilt his head to see a blurred smile leaning far too close to him.

“Ah there you are my friend, I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come back.” Damien could only blink and try to clear his vision further…but just by the voice he began to realize…

“Mark?” His own voice was hoarse and dry.

A hand brushed dark locks from his face.

“In the flesh.” Another smile, this time showing his friend’s perfect teeth. A smile for the movies he so liked to star in.

He pushed himself up to an elbow, finding he was in fact at home, in his own bed. His mind searched for a reason…Last night, they’d gone drinking hadn’t they? Did Mark have to bring him in here himself? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Dames had gone too far and had to be driven home, but how had Mark dragged him up to his second story bedroom himself?

He looked around, yes he was still in his day clothes, sans his blazer which was usually discarded for a night on the town anyway.

“Wild last night wasn’t it?” Mark stood upright from where he’d leaned over Damien. He’d have answered if he remembered anything about it.

“What exactly happened? I feel…” How did he feel exactly? Drained? Like he’d been hit by a truck? Air hit the back of his throat like fire with every breath. He must be more dehydrated than normal from the alcohol.

Though strangely, he began to realize, he wasn’t hung-over. Achy? Absolutely. Tired? Sure. But no pounding in his head. No beating migraine…no…

“I feel strange.” He said almost to himself.

“You’ll get used to it my friend, why I bet you’ll be right as rain as soon as we get you something to eat.” He stopped to press the little buzzer above the night stand and spoke into the intercom, “Send up the butler will you please, dear?”

It replied with a staticky ‘right away sir’.

Used to it? Mark was acting about as off as Damien felt. He carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat upright. The curtains were drawn, but he could see soft light filtering in from the window around the edges. Yet, somehow that was too bright. He rubbed his face, yes maybe breakfast would help his condition.

“What kept you here?” He didn’t mean for it to be so direct, but his mayorly political filter wasn’t yet functioning, “Surely you’d have liked to go home and rest yourself.”

“Oh I couldn’t leave you like that! Wouldn’t want you or anyone else to get hurt now would we.” Upbeat as ever, and deflecting. Damien had known this man long enough to see through his ever-present façade. He was withholding something. A prank? That was certainly like him, but Dames couldn’t shake the bristly sensation there was something wrong here…

He breathed in to speak again. It burned.

“Come now Mark, what did you do, slip something in my drink?” He mocked a friendly grin, trying to pry a straight answer from his friend. “You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, you’re up to something.” The words felt like sandpaper.

A knock at the door.

“Ah! Come in please,” The actor chimed, again avoiding Dames’ inquiry, “and, close the door behind you, would you?” His tone lowered.

Gabriel, the butler of 2 years came inside a little hesitantly, but did as he was told. “Good morning sirs, how may I be of service?” With a click, the door slid shut behind him.

Before he received a reply, Gabriel’s eyes grew wide and mouth gaped open in a gasp, “Sir! You’re hurt I-“ He’d only just begun to point in Damien’s direction when Mark…well…appeared behind him and clasped his hand over Gabriel’s mouth, silencing him to mumbles and frantic eyes.

“Shhh shh, that’s quite enough my good fellow.” His tone was dangerously sweet in contrast to his actions. “Don’t spoil it for our mayor. Especially not before his meal.”

Their mayor was just barely even processing what was happening. He jumped up to stand, a little unsteady still, but needing to protect his staff from his suddenly deranged friend.

“What the hell are you doing? Let him go this instant!” His hand began to trail up his torso, searching for what Gabe had been trying to tell him. He touched a spot where his shirt collar clung to his neck and shoulder and rubbed off some of the flaky, dry substance.

In horror, he saw it on his hand. Blood.

“What the fuck did you do Mark?” Shock raised his voice an octave. His heart should’ve been in his ears with panic.

And then he saw it. Mark smiled from behind the struggling butler, in that award winning smile grew long and deadly sharp fangs.

“Why, I’m saving you my dear Damien!” His features took on a feral quality. “I’ve found proverbial fountain of youth, as well as much, much more.” He stroked the butler’s cheek and tightened his impossibly strong hold on him.

“When your sister left me I was broken, I couldn’t bear to go on without her. I tried to die my friend, but you see the world had greater plans for me. I have conquered death itself! This is my gift to you friend, we can go on into eternity, it would be so lonesome without my one true good friend by my side. The only one who didn’t betray me.” The last sentence was barely above a growl.

“So drink up! A toast to our eternal youth!” Before Damien could even react, in a single motion, Gabe’s throat was slit open. Thick red oozing blood spilled from the wound. The man’s choked cries were now desperate gargles.

He wanted to run. To yell, scream, hide, do anything except what he was doing. Staring. Blankly staring at the disgustingly…delicious looking fluid now staining the man’s clothes and dripping onto the floor. The air was thick now in that delightful and disturbing scent. He parted his lips to say something, or yell or scream or…taste the life slowly pooling on the floor. Through those parted lips now peeked freshly grown fangs of his very own.

“Ah, that’s it friend! And I must say what a beautiful and terrifying creature you’ll be!”

Damien could only gag in response, his thoughts were disconnected and wild. He managed to slump over to the wall, unwilling to let himself get any closer. Deep in his chest, he knew. He knew that so much as a step in that direction all rational thought would be lost. He would kill Gabriel. He would gorge himself on his lifeblood and become the monster his good friend so wanted him to be.

His eyes darted around the room. Something. He had to do something. The light from behind the drapes had grown in intensity and hurt to look at.

Wait.

Not sparing a moment to consider the consequence, Damien grabbed hold of the curtain and ripped it from the rod above, unleashing daylight on the room.

The fabric fell on Damien, partially shielding him, but not from the piercing cry of the actor.

“How dare you, after all I’ve done for you.” His voice was a hiss. Damien crawled away from the sound, to the farthest corner of the room. Only then was he brave enough to look back.

Mark, or whatever he’d become, had scaled his wall to another dark corner. Skin was draped off of him, leaving large open wounds on his face and arms. He still clutched the butler, now nearly a corpse. Overpowering light drew a barrier between them.

“Well Damien I won’t waste the food I’ve so graciously prepared for you.” His eyes were black and angry as he lifted the body up to his face and proceeded to ravenously feed from the limp Gabriel. The missing flesh on him began to knit itself back together as he ate.

Damien could only watch in horror. And hunger.

The vampire tossed the body aside, landing with a hollow sound on the floor. “No matter Dames, I’ll return for you later.” His face finished patching itself together. “It seems you’re just a little …lost, take your time, you’ll realize soon enough the favor I’ve done you.” He mused and straightened his dress shirt.

And with that, he was just… gone.

Damien huddled into the corner. Emotions wreaking havoc on him. Fear, anger, confusion, betrayal. A friend. A dear friend. A monster. He clenched his fists, noting the dull color his skin had taken on. He made me a monster.

Gabriel’s glossy eyes gazed into nothing. The smell of blood hung like lead in the room still, but it had soured and offered no more temptation for Damien.

Covering himself in the drapes, he worked his way to the intercom.

“Everyone,” He rasped into the speaker, “Please, go home for today. You’re all excused.” He tried to manage normally. Should they think something were wrong…they might be tempted to check on him. To come in here and walk across the barrier of sun, smelling sweet and decadent and and-

He stopped his thoughts and sank back to the floor.

The mayor didn’t know what to do.

—

You thumbed open the front door lock and stepped inside. Good thing Dames had given you that spare key, you knew he wouldn’t mind if you let yourself in. Often you had to -to retrieve important paperwork from his home office.

The rooms were dark and swathed in the last remnant of the evening sun. You switched on the light in the entryway and noted the servants had apparently left early. Odd, but it wasn’t unlike Dames to give them the evening off, he was always kind to his employees.

You wondered why he hadn’t been in the office today, his secretary said there hadn’t been a call from him this morning. She mentioned he had plans with Markus Iplier, the actor, with whom he’s been friends since elementary school, and didn’t really expect to hear from him. Those two really knew how to party, she’d said.

But you were worried, and decided to check in on your old friend and fellow graduate of the same college. You knew how bad he always feels in the morning after a night of festivity, you’d been with him through quite a few in college.

Never mind the fact that you fancied bringing him gifts at work and followed him around the office when he stopped in. You were just friends, and yet your smile never faded when he was present and heart skipped a beat when he offered to take you to dinner last week. 

Just friends.

You ascended the steps up to his office, usually where you found him when he was working late. The mahogany desk was empty.

Dare you poke your nose into his bedroom? Only after giving a few raps on the door first, of course.

“Damien? You in there?” No response. “I stopped by to check on you. Missed you at the office today.” Silence.

It couldn’t hurt to look in, after all it seemed he wasn’t even home.

The door groaned as you opened it. You peered in. The last rays of light sunk below the horizon and left his room in twilit darkness. The room was in disarray, the curtain rod pulled from the wall and in the dim light, something laying on the floor on the other side of the room.

What in the world had happened here? “Dames! Are you okay?”

Movement in the corner by the intercom. “Please…leave.” Barely above a whisper and full of pain. At that you didn’t hesitate to enter.

“Damien!” You swung the door open and began to rush to him, heart beating fast in your throat, was he hurt? Oh god did you need to phone an ambulance? What-

You stopped in your tracks. You were regarded by the corpse on the floor, Gabe’s eyes had clouded over in death. His neck was coated in thick dry blood. You made a choked noise.

“What the-“

-

“Go! Please!” He whipped around, forcing his cracking, dry voice louder. God why you, out of everyone why had you of all people…

By your terrified look, he could only guess the creature you saw in him. He felt the points poke his tongue when he closed his mouth. The sunlight had gone. There was nothing stopping him from crossing the room, irresistible scent guiding him, the pulse in your veins beckoning beckoning just a taste just a taste just a tas-

“Damien…” The way you said his name was so tender, so caring. He loved the sound of your voice. He loved the way you chatted happily to him when you brought him trinkets from gift shops. He loved how you teased him for his mayorly political-isms. The way you softened when he asked you to dinner. He loved your eyes, your hair, your blush, your beating heart your beating heart your beating heart your-

-

What was momentarily your friend, your quiet love, desperately pleading for you to leave, was no more. He stood from his hunched position on the floor, the normally neat and well kept mayor looked disheveled and wild. His dark hair scattered over one eye, jaw slack and eyes sharply focused. Like a predator. Like a monster.

You stepped back, instinctively. You knew your eyes didn’t deceive you when he flashed his teeth. Sharp. Too sharp. 

An animal growl rolled from his lips, a drawn snarl completing the picture your mind had already begun to piece together.

A vampire.

You had not a moment to care about the how when or why of the matter. You were already in his grasp. 

If there was any conflict about his actions you couldn’t see it. Your darling. Your warm sunny day at the seaside, soft whispers in the study long past curfew, the one your heart beat for…was nowhere in the beast that pinned you to the floor with an iron grip.

Your breath was caught. Unable to sob or scream or beg, tears flowed in their stead. He forced your head to the side, exposing your bare neck to his waiting, hungry lips. The lips you had desperately wanted on you for so long, leaving tender trails of kisses, perhaps maybe, in another life.

But not this one. 

His fangs tore into your flesh easily. You found your breath enough for a yelp of pain that echoed through the room. It didn’t stop him, he greedily drank from your punctured artery, you felt drops and rivulets trace your collarbone. He fed from you sloppily, like a starved animal. Licking and biting at the already open wound.

As your vision began to dance and your struggles grew weak, you didn’t find yourself angry. You knew that this wasn’t who he was. Something had happened to him. He wasn’t to blame. You could never be angry with him. Confusion and heartbreak clouded your thoughts as your surroundings slipped into darkness.

-

Damien was narrowly cognizant of what he was doing, but through a thick haze of bloodlust. You were sweet on his tongue, though not in the way he’d ever wished to be tasting you.

He swallowed hungrily, feasting himself on your delectable essence. In the back of his mind he shuddered at how good it felt. Deplorable…yet natural to his new state of being, he could only continue to feed, helpless to override his new instincts and the sensations they rewarded him with.

When his better, more human senses, slowly began to return to him. He wished they hadn’t, for the sight of you, limp and encrusted with gore was simply too much for his stilled heart.

His screams of agony came from between bloodstained lips. He clutched you close and wailed.

“My, my, I see you’ve come to your senses and ate.” Damien’s head snapped up instantly at the voice. Mark was perched neatly on the window sill. “And it’s that lovely little crush of yours, I’m surprised Damien, I thought you’d have better control of yourself.”

Tears still wet on his face, his features contorted into a snarl, hot red rage boiled in his chest. The intensity of the feeling would have scared him at any other moment. But now, staring at the man who betrayed his trust, the monster that caused him to hurt one he loved so dearly…he let it drown him.

“You. Bastard.” Oh how he would’ve hated to hear the venom in his own voice.

Damien made a move to stand. But the actor motioned for him to stay put. For some reason he did so.

“Now, now,” he tutted, as though scolding a child, “I don’t think you’ve realized the picture I’m putting together here, dear sweet Damien.” Mark leaned casually against the window frame, “Your friend there isn’t quite lost to you forever. If you promise to play nice, I’ll tell you how you can bring them back from the brink.” A pointed devil’s smile graced his lips. “Why, I’ll bet they’ll make a wonderful member of the cast.”

His flash of anger evaporated into confusion. The mayor couldn’t think, what should he do? Agree to whatever sick game his former friend was getting at to bring you back…as a vampire too no doubt. He could just say yes now…just long enough to see the life back in your eyes…he knew that you couldn’t possibly forgive him. Just as he will never forgive Mark. But, maybe there would be a way…to live in dignity with this curse…this disease…

He could only hope. Because even the life of a creature such that he now was would only be bearable with you in it.

“Fine then…just tell me.”

A dastardly look. “Good boy.” He brought his wrist to his face and made a biting motion at it, “simply open a vein, you’ll find that your blood can work miracles on the recently drained if you offer some of yours in return.” He stated whimsically.

“I’ll be seeing you Damien,” Mark turned as if to go, then paused to look back, “And, you should leave your hair down like that more, it really gives me the ‘brooding villainous creature of the night’ sort of vibes.” His parting laugh echoed across the room and rattled into Damien’s very core.

He didn’t have time to think about what the hell Mark was blathering about, his only thought was of you.

He did as Mark had said, feeling stupid and selfish and upset that he wanted you back so badly. Biting his own wrist offered very little pain. His own dark colored blood slithered out of the wound, as if the night itself had taken up residence in his arteries.

Drip. Drip. Each drop fell into your mouth, and the burn of his fresh tears rolled down next to them.

Damien cradled your body, waiting in the cold silence. In that silence he vowed, the red burning fury briefly returning, Mark will regret the day he made him immortal. Because he will use every day into eternity to find him and make him feel every ounce of pain he felt here tonight.

That was a promise.

It could’ve been half a decade, or only after a few minutes, the body in his arms stirred.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t beg your forgiveness, he couldn’t do anything but give you the truth. Damien could only hope as your eyes opened, reborn in death, that you could somehow understand.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• PROLOGUE •

WARNINGS: if you haven't seen the movie or read the book and maybe this is somehow you're first encounter with this series, this is a very graphic story and I will not be shying away from the gore as much as I want to. You really can't interact with this series without it so again, if you are unaware somehow and/or you are squeamish around graphic descriptions of violence this book is not for you. Thank you.

- October 1988 -

     Gray skies and a thick layer of storm clouds blanket the town of Derry, Maine. Bill Denbrough sits in bed, he was tearing out a piece of paper from his sketchbook. His mother is downstairs on the piano, playing Für Elise. A song that would haunt him for the rest of his life. That song was playing the day Georgie died, he would think. Georgie, Bill's younger brother was at the window.

     He had fogged up the glass with his breath, and he drew a large smiley face on the glass, just before it disappeared. He turned over his shoulder to look at his brother, who was folding a paper boat for him.

     "You sure I won't get in trouble, Bill?"

     "Don't be a w-wuss." Bill replied.

     Bill had always had a stutter, and everyone who knew him was used to it. When he was three, he had been hit by a car and knocked into a building, and he remained unconscious for seven hours. This accident, his mother had said, caused the stutter. His stutter was light but it got worse after Georgie disappeared.

     "I'd come with you if I weren't," he stopped abruptly and coughed forcefully into his hand. "dying."

     Georgie stood from the window and walked over to his brother, sighing. "You're not dying!"

     He hated that his brother joked about stuff like that, he'd hate it if something really happened to him.

     "You didn't see the v-v-vomit coming out of my nose this morning?" He asked incredulously.

     Georgie cringed. "That's disgusting."

     Bill looked down at the finished paper boat. "Okay. Go get the wax."

     Georgie became uneasy. He shifted on his feet. "In the cellar?"

     Georgie was terrified of the cellar. He always imagined dangers of the unimaginable lurking at the bottom, waiting to snatch him up. He knew it was silly, but every time he would reach for the light, the image of long sharp talons reaching out for his tiny little hand.

     "You want it to f-float, don't you?" Bill asked simply.

     "Fine," he sighed.

     Georgie left Bill's room, not before grabbing his walkie talkie and headed downstairs. His legs, he realized, were moving slower than normal. A fact he was fine with if it meant it took longer to get to the cellar. He passed his mother in the dining room, where she sat at the piano, her fingers dancing along the keys. The music added a chilling tone that made his nerves spike.

     When Georgie reached the kitchen, he slowed. The cellar door was open and he could hear that same sinister voice in the back of his head, promising his demise. Georgie gulped, but oh, how he wanted that boat!

     Bill wouldn't be scared. Bill was never scared of the cellar, so neither should he!

     Georgie walked slowly over to the door, gently pushing it open. The door made a sickening creak and he crept to the edge of the stairs, hoping whatever possible creature lurked at the bottom wouldn't hear him. His breathing picked up and he gulped, he could hear something clattering down there!

     A sharp, piercing beep rang in his ears, startling him.

     "Georgie," It was just Bill from the walkie talkie. "Hurry up."

     Struggling to regain his composure, he clung to the wall, reaching for the light and tried not to think about the claw that could take his arm. His fingers reached the switch and flicked it back and forth. Nothing. He would have to go down into the cellar. In the dark.

     Georgie took several deep breaths, desperately attempting to swallow his fear.

     "It's okay," he whispered under his breath. "I'm brave."

     He trudges down the cellar stairs, an iron grip on the railing, letting darkness engulf him. He sighed when he reached the bottom. He had made it down the stairs. But now came the hard part. Taking a deep breath he began looking around, squinting in the dark trying to find the gulf wax and get the hell out of there.

     "Where's the wax?" He mumbled. "There's the wax. Yes."

     Georgie always felt that as long as he could talk, even if he was alone, he was at least somewhat safe. Perhaps hearing a voice, even his own was something to distract him from his fears. He stood on his tippy toes, extending his arm, reaching for the paraffin wax for his boat.

     He got it! Now he could leave the nasty old cellar. It always smelled sewage and gook you'd find in a gutter. It was a nasty smell. The cellar smell. But something in Georgie told him to look up, and he did. What he saw made him back up.

     In the sea of darkness, he saw two bright and shiny orbs, staring at him. Stalking him. His heart beating rapidly in his chest and he stifled a gasp. The flashlight. For some unknown reason that baffled him, he hadn't grabbed the flashlight next to him on the dryer before.

     He quickly grabbed it, his hands shaking as he felt for the button with his other hand. He pressed it and the light shined brightly, illuminating nothing but the same old shelf across the room. The two orbs, he realized, were just two empty jars that must have caught the light that made it through the tiny cellar windows behind him.

     But he couldn't shake the feeling something had been watching him. Something that was still watching him. He needed to leave, immediately, he thought. And he did.

     He heard a loud clatter near him, something he would never be able to identify, that was soon followed by a crack of thunder. He jumped into a sprint for the stairs, more words tumbling out of his mouth.

     "What was that? What's that? Oh, jeez!"

     He scrambled up the stairs, still clutching the flashlight firmly in his hands. The light jumped up and down the walls as he moved his arms and Georgie was certain he had never run the fast.

     But it was fine now. He was out of the cellar and he had the wax for his boat.

     Now, he stood next to Bill at his desk, his left arm wrapped loving around his older brother. He studied Bill's technique as he painted the paper boat - the boat now labeled the 'SS Georgie' in black marker - with paraffin wax.

     Bill set the paintbrush back in the bowl of wax and picked up the boat by the edges. He turned to Georgie.

     "Alright," he handed the SS Georgie to his little brother and smiled. "There you go. S-she's all ready, Captain."

     Confusion and interest flickered over Georgie's face. "She?"

     Bill nodded. "You always call b-b-boats 'she'."

     "'She'," Georgie nodded, liking the new interesting fact. "Thanks, Billy."

     Georgie extended his arms and pulled his brother in for a hug, who gladly accepted. Georgie gave him a big squeeze and Bill smiled. He gently prodded his fingers in Georgie's side, knowing just where his brother was ticklish.

     Georgie giggled and pulled back, and Bill smiled. Georgie grabbed the walkie and ran skipping out of the room.

     "See you later. Bye!" Georgie called disappearing into the hallway.

     When he heard the front door close moments later, he rose to his feet and went to the window.

     There on the sidewalk was Georgie, who was now dressed in his yellow slicker and matching rain boots. He was gleaming and sent a big happy wave to Bill, who tentatively waved back.

     Bill didn't know why he felt the way he did suddenly. He felt a sense of dread, that he ignored at that moment. Something he would be kicking himself for, for the rest of his life.

     But he did bring his walkie up to his lips and spoke.

     "Be careful,"

     He had no idea what compelled him to say that. And he remembered thinking that was something you'd usually hear from a mom or a dad. Not your brother. But he shook it off.

     Bill watched as his brother placed the boat into the small stream that formed in between the curb and the street. The boat took off and so did Georgie.

     That was the last time Bill ever saw Georgie alive.

     He ran alongside his boat in a happy sprint. No matter how fast he ran, she was quicker. As he'd run he jump off the curb into the large puddles, watching them splash. Then he'd jump right back up and run off the grass again.

     The SS Georgie sped down the street. She zipped and zoomed and Georgie watched with delight, giggling merrily. She sped right under a sawhorse on the road. Printed on it, with big black letters were the words: DERRY PUBLIC WORKS.

     Georgie was sure to duck when he reached it, his boat just ahead by his feet. He was still bent over, eyes still on the boat, he failed to notice the second sawhorse just as he straightened.

     THUNK!

     Georgie lay on the concrete, his forehead and lower half sore from the fall and he winced. He could feel the stream of rain soaking his pants and sneaking into his boots.

     The boat! The boat was still getting away. He scanned the street, squinting through the splashback of thousands of raindrops in the street, but he finally spotted the boat. She had just hit a corner, but she persisted. She had no trouble getting around the large obstacle in the street and she turned. Georgie jumped to his feet and chased after her.

     His legs were small but they run fast. But not fast enough to reach the boat in time before it hit a snag and twirled into a storm drain.

     "No!" He cried, kneeling down into the gutter. "No, Bill's gonna kill me!"

     He peered into the gutter, squinting for the boat. Maybe it wasn't as steep as it looked, he thought. Maybe he could reach her. But his thoughts were suddenly cut short.

     A pair of yellow eyes opened in the darkness. They gleamed brightly and they were fixed right on Georgie. He jumped back with a frightful yelp. A darkened figure slithered forward.

     "Hiya, Georgie!"

     From the small portion of the face that was showing, he could see a pale white face, with blood-red lips. The ends of the lips trailed all the way up in sharp lines and didn't seem to stop. The smile was big and cartoonish, it was unnatural and he had two large teeth that reminded Georgie of a rabbit. But if he wasn't mistaken, the figure in the storm drain was a clown?

     The voice was cheerful and light, but it was gravelly and deep. Georgie didn't like this voice or the feeling it brought.

     And had Georgie been wrong before? I must have, he thought because the eyes were now a bright blue. But his attention was immediately drawn to the object in the clown's hand.

     "What a nice boat." The clown said, showing it the boy. "Do you want it back?"

     Georgie, was still very much startled from the turn of events, frowned uneasily. Yet he nodded.

     "Um, yes please."

     The face tilted its head and smiled a crooked grin. "You look like a nice boy. I bet you have a lot of friends."

     Georgie tilted his head, slowly his guard came down, but he couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. Nevertheless, he answered, timidly.

     "Three. But my brother's my best best."

     The face gleamed, perking up in interest.

     "Where's he?"

     Georgie noticed the slobber pooling in the clown's lower lip, and it dribbled over in long streams. He was drooling. Georgie tried not to stare. He had learned well and good from his mother that it was not polite to stare.

     "In bed. Sick."

     The shadowy face seemed to contemplate something for a brief moment.

     "I bet I could cheer him up. I'll give him a balloon!"

     Georgie looked away briefly, feeling very uneasy. The clown, who noticed the boy's hesitation and perked up.

     "Do you want a balloon too, Georgie?"

     "I'm not supposed to take stuff from strangers." The boy answered.

     "Oh," He scoffed happily. "Well, I'm Pennywise the Dancing Clown!"

     He shook his head, and a small flurry of jingles accompanied.

     "'Pennywise?' 'Yes.'" The clown spoke to Itself and answered, feigning a conversation. "'Meet Georgie.' 'Georgie, meet Pennywise.'"

     Georgie couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his throat, and Pennywise smiled.

     "Now we aren't strangers, are we?"

     At that moment, the inhabitant of the house just in front of that very storm drain stepped out onto her porch. She held her coat tightly to herself and shivered. The wind chimes were waving sporadically and tapping against the outdoor blinds.

     She grabbed the ropes and pulled the curtains up, surprised to see a young boy in a bright yellow raincoat leaning into the sewer. She frowned, losing interest and steeped away, her cat at her feet still watching.

     "What are you doing in the sewer?" Georgie asked curiously.

     "A storm blew away," Pennywise drawled. "Blew the whole circus away."

     Pennywise chuckled with the very same high and gravelly voice before his face fell unexpectedly. The clown stared at Georgie, his friendly mask falling briefly.

     "Can you smell the circus, Georgie?"

     Georgie frowned in confusion. He leaned ever so slightly forward.

     "There's peanuts, cotton candy, hot dogs, and...?"

     Georgie could, in fact, smell all those things. He could smell the sweet sugary aroma of cotton candy and he could practically taste the salty flavor of peanuts. But underneath all that, he could smell the familiar vulgar and repulsive stench. The cellar smell.

     But then he got a strong burst of popcorn.

     "Popcorn?"

     "Popcorn!" The figure chuckled and nodded eagerly. "Is that your favorite?"

     Georgie smiled for the first time in the interaction, and he nodded. "Uh-huh."

     "Mine too!" Pennywise chuckled, and voice cracked. "Because they pop. Pop, pop, pop!"

     Georgie giggled at the funny noise, and Pennywise continued.

     "Pop, pop, pop."

     "Pop," Giggled Georgie.

     Pennywise cackled along with Georgie but stopped suddenly. He stared at Georgie, drool dribbling down his chin once more and he was stared at Georgie hungrily.

     The uneasy feeling returned to Georgie. He could feel the pit in his stomach blooming. He forced a polite smile, unable to hide his discomfort.

     "I should get going now,"

     "Oh," The clown licked its lips. "Without your boat?"

     Georgie frowned. He wanted to get far away from the storm drain. Run all the way home and snuggle up under the safety of Bill's covers, where he would be protected, and never look back. Never think about the creepy clown in the sewers. But something else was gnawing at Georgie, a doubt deep-seeded in the back of his mind. A doubt Pennywise brought to light.

     "You don't want to lose it, Georgie," the clown warned. "Bill's gonna kill you,"

     Bill would. He would be very mad at Georgie. For bothering him while he was sick, goading him into making that stupid boat and to lose it immediately. And after going to all that trouble. Bill would be disappointed. That's what worried Georgie, and he didn't want his brother being mad at him.

     Pennywise extended the boat, ever so slightly, and grinned. His smile looked like that of the Cheshire cat, stretching into impossible lengths.

     "Here," the whisper chilled Georgie to his very bones. "Take it."

     He would take the boat, and say his thanks, and leave. The voice grew impatient.

     "Take it, Georgie," The voice was deep and low, but still gravelly.

     The very same thoughts that he always had about the cellar, popped back into his head. Bill would take it, a small voice in his head told him, he's brave. Against his better judgment, Georgie crawled closed, reaching out for the boat. It would be just as easy as getting the gulf wax, he told himself.

     The second his palm landed on the concrete, the second his fingers were within reach, the clown's eyes returned to a deep yellow. Georgie's hand was snatched, and the clown's head opened up, growing hundreds of sharp teeth and It chomped down on Georgie's arm, biting it clean off.

     Georgie's terrified cries of pain echoed down the streets of Jackson and Witcham and yet the only being that heard his muffled cries of help was the neighbor's cat, still perched on the porch. Georgie did his best to crawl away from the storm drain, he wiggled himself along the street, blood pouring out of his shoulder where his right arm once was.

     But it was no use. A long arm, slowly extending and protruding from the sewers came for him. Much like what he had always envisioned would happen when he used the cellar lightswitch. His small body was pulled into the storm drain, and Georgie Denbrough was no more.

+++

@seasidecrowbar @bevxmarsh @supernovavision @readyforitbitch @classiprincess @edsloveshisrichie @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories @sweetpeasserpentprincess23 @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica

[noona-clock]

Confusion & Coincidences - Part 8

Genre: Regency!AU

Pairing: Yongguk x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

“...You accept?” the Earl asked, staring at you with some confusion.

“Yes,” you assured him with a nod.

“But... I thought you wanted to --”

“I know,” you interrupted. “And I do want to marry for... love. But it’s as you said yesterday. We haven’t known each other very long, but we seem to have a good idea of each other’s characters. And... I think... I could... love? You? One day?”

Were you making any sense?

The Earl pressed his lips together, and you could tell he was trying to hold back a smile. You wished he wouldn’t because you realized you’d never actually seen him smile. A real, full-on smile. And if you were going to be engaged to a man, you wanted to know what his smile looked like.

“I see,” he murmured, letting his lips pull into a smirk. Not a smile, but it was something.

“I would just like the chance to get to know you better,” you added

“Then why not just request I ask you again later when we know each other more?”

...Right. That did make more sense.

“Well,” you began, hoping you could make this sound more reasonable and less... weird. “I’ll be quite frank with you, my Lord, because if you can’t be honest with your fiancé, who can you be honest with?”

Okay. Off to a great start.

“As difficult as it might be to imagine, I have never been proposed to before yesterday. I have never met a gentleman who even seemed... interested. And I have never met a gentleman whom I was interested in, either, much less one from whom I would like to receive a proposal. But... I have never met a gentleman quite like you.”

“I can certainly say the same about you,” the Earl replied, his smirk still present. “Except replace ‘gentleman’ with ‘lady.’”

You let out a soft chuckle, and you wondered if you’d ever heard such a lovely compliment in your life.

“I rejected you yesterday because I was not expecting you to propose. I was, indeed, quite shocked. And I’ve always had it in my head that, when a man did propose, it would be... well... just different, I guess. And then I was also thinking about Pride & Prejudice and how Mr. Darcy suddenly proposes to Lizzy, and now you were proposing to me, so I kind of panicked, I guess?” 

“Mr. Darcy?” he asked with just a hint of a laugh. “You think I’m like Mr. Darcy?”

“Well, I didn’t say that, but...” You averted your gaze and lifted one shoulder into a half-shrug. “A bit, yes.”

“You’re definitely not wrong. You’re much better than Elizabeth, though.”

Okay, that was the loveliest compliment you’d ever heard in your life.

“Anyway,” you interjected, trying to hide the fact his words had left you just a tiny bit breathless. “I should have taken more time to think rather than answering you so quickly.”

“Although, you technically didn’t ever say the word ‘no,’” the Earl pointed out.

Your brow furrowed as you thought back to the conversation, trying to remember specifically everything you’d said. And... he was right. You couldn’t remember ever saying ‘no.’ You’d told Alice you’d said ‘no,’ but you hadn’t told the Earl. And what you told him was more important - at least in matters of matrimony.

Speaking of Alice...

“And then when my best friend told me she is very soon to be engaged to my brother, I realized -- I already told you all this, so I won’t burden you further by repeating it.”

The Earl took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you even further than you had just a few minutes ago. He timidly reached out and took one of your hands, holding it gently in his.

“Please don’t ever feel as if you or anything you do or say is a burden to me,” he murmured, gazing down at your hands rather than in your eyes. But you didn’t mind because his hair was actually rather glorious. “In my eyes, a marriage is a partnership. You help each other and listen to each other, so I hope you never feel like you can’t share things with me.”

...Whoa. You suddenly stopped thinking about how glorious his hair was and started thinking about how glorious his idea of marriage sounded. Not just someone you shared a residence with and had children with, but... someone you lived with. Not just physically but emotionally.

It would be a much-needed breath of fresh air, actually. On a day-to-day basis, you really didn’t have anyone to talk to who truly understood you. Your mother and brother both loved you dearly, but they would never choose to stay home and read novels when there were parties and dinners to attend. People to talk to. 

Your father understood you, yes, but... I mean, how could you talk to him in that manner? He was your father. It was... awkward.

And you had Alice who accepted you completely, but again - she didn’t quite understand.

So to hear someone say he would openly and willingly listen to you?

It meant more than you even realized.

“Okay,” you whispered, tipping your head in the slightest of nods.

The Earl then brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Is there anything else you would like to explain?” he asked softly, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. Or maybe it was the touch of his lips. Or both.

You shook your head.

“I will leave you, then,” he told you, letting your hand drop and stepping away from you. “I shall call on you tomorrow to discuss everything with your mother.”

“Oh, god,” you replied instinctively, hearing the own whine in your voice as you closed your eyes to try and block the image of your mother and the Earl together out of your mind.

The Earl laughed softly, and your eyes snapped open. You were hoping to see him smile, but you were too late, apparently. His lips were already closed and fairly straight-lined.

“Unpleasant, I know,” he said. “But necessary.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you sighed. He would have to speak with your father, too, but that wouldn’t be half as mortifying.

“I will leave my calling card with the butler in case you need me for any reason,” the Earl told you as he approached the doorway to the drawing room.

You simply nodded, tipping your head as a ‘good-bye’ before he disappeared.

Before your fiancé disappeared.

Your betrothed.

Your... future husband.

Oh, my.

It was suddenly hitting you, which was very strange because the Earl was now gone. Why were you just now realizing that...

You were getting married.

As soon as you heard the door close, signaling the Earl’s departure, you ran to fetch your shawl and bonnet. 

If your mother was awake, she would surely inquire about the visitor you had just received, and you most certainly did not want to tell her who it had been. But you also didn’t want to lie to her, so the only other option was to simply... not talk to her. At all.

By the time you, yourself, made it out the door, you could still see the Earl trotting away on his horse.

My, but he really did cut a fine figure, even from the back.

You decided to walk the opposite way, not wanting to cause an awkwardness by running into him when he had literally just been at your aunt’s house talking to you.

Besides, the whole point of you fleeing the house was to not see or talk to anyone.

You needed some alone time to process everything.

So you started walking. And you kept walking, trying not to let your mind wander too much so you remembered which way you had turned. It would do you no good to get lost in the streets of London.

It was still before noon, so it’s not like you were in danger of getting accosted by some nighttime scoundrel, but still. If you got lost, you would have to ask someone for directions. Which would involve approaching and talking to somebody you didn’t know. Nothing sent a terrified shudder down your back more than that prospect.

Although... the thought of marrying somebody you barely knew was a bit intimidating, as well. You weren’t scared, per se, you were simply... anxious.

What if you were a terrible wife? What if the Earl got to know you better and decided he didn’t like you as much as he thought he would? What if you didn’t like the Earl as much as you thought you would? What if you both made the other so unhappy, and you lived the rest of your lives out barely even speaking or seeing each other?!

Oh, dear. You were overthinking - and verging on paranoia. While it is certainly possible your marriage wouldn’t be as wonderful and delightful as you’d always hoped your marriage would be, it surely wouldn’t make you miserable.

If anything, you could simply avoid the Earl as much as you could and spend all of your time reading outside. It’s what you already did, and you were plenty content doing so now.

You suddenly realized the temperature in the air had dropped just a bit, so you hugged your shawl tighter as you turned a corner and picked up the pace. 

What about children? Did the Earl want children? Surely he did; he has a title to pass on, after all. 

Truthfully, you weren’t exactly sure... Okay, this is slightly embarrassing. You weren’t sure how children... came about. Your mother never told you specifically. You only knew it was something done in the bedroom, and that alone was enough to make your cheeks blush.

Thinking about being in a bedroom with the Earl made your cheeks blush even more, and you were glad of the chill in the air now.

Just as you turned yet another corner, a rather booming clap of thunder pierced through the air. And then a bolt of lightning shot through the sky.

Your brow furrowed just as rain began to pelt down, and you let out a little shriek.

Blimey! You knew it had looked like rain earlier on in the day, but you hadn’t realized it was going to storm! And you were so far from your aunt’s house!

You were fairly certain you could make your way back, but... you’d been walking for quite a while. A quick look around relayed to you the fact you were still in very much a residential area, so it’s not like you could take refuge in a shop, either! You didn’t know anyone else in London besides the Earl, and you had absolutely no idea where he lived. The chances of him living in one of these houses were very, very slim.

So you could either impose yourself upon the kindness of a stranger... or make a run for it.

Neither option was enticing in the least, but... you were a little more experienced with running than you were with imposing on a stranger. Very little.

You tugged the strings of your bonnet with one hand, making sure it wouldn’t fly off, and clutched the ends of your shawl with the other, hoping it might protect you just a little from the rain... and then you broke out into a sprint.

It didn’t take long for your shoes to get completely soaked through. Your bonnet and shawl followed suit not long after, and your dress eventually decided to join the club, as well.

Unsurprisingly, you had to stop and catch your breath quite a few times, the cold air burning in your lungs.

By the time you made it back to your aunt’s house, you had never been so rain-soaked, breathless, and cold in all your life. You felt as though you could collapse on the spot . And once the butler opened the door for you... you practically did.

The Earl let out a very shaky breath before lifting his gloved hand and knocking on the door the morning after you had accepted his proposal.

Within a minute, the same butler who had received him the previous two times appeared, though he looked a bit more worried than he usually did.

“Ah,” the butler greeted. “My Lord --”

He stopped suddenly, glancing over his shoulder as his brow wrinkled.

“Is everything all right?” the Earl murmured.

“I presume you are here to call on Miss Y/N?”

“Somewhat... I came to speak with her mother... is something going on?”

The butler let out a short breath before shaking his head. “Miss has fallen quite ill, so now is not the time for visitors, I’m afraid.”

“Ill?” The Earl did nothing to hide the surprise in his tone. “What’s wrong? It’s nothing serious, I presume?”

“I believe she was caught out in the rain yesterday.”

“Has a doctor been by?”

“We have called on my Lady’s regular physician, though he has not yet answered.”

The Earl frowned, his forehead wrinkling deeply with concern. And then his gaze snapped up to meet the butler’s. “I’ll be back soon.”

The butler simply nodded, and the Earl heard the door close behind him as he bounded down the stairs.

It took him less than half an hour to locate his private physician, urging him to get his medical supplies together and hurry over to your aunt’s house. He really had no idea what was wrong with you, but it was better safe than sorry. If you’d gotten stuck out in yesterday’s chilling rain, it could lead to something serious.

The butler welcomed him back easily, opening the door widely and ushering him and the physician inside.

“Up the stairs, second door on the left,” he directed.

The Earl nodded his thanks, leading the physician up and gently knocking on the door when he arrived.

He heard a hurried shuffle on the other side, and your mother - your quite distressed looking mother - opened it.

“Oh!” she gasped. “My -- my Lord! What are you --”

“I brought my personal physician,” he interrupted gently. “I hope it is not an intrusion, but I heard --”

“Yes, yes, please come in,” she replied, standing aside to let the two men pass.

While the physician set up camp, opening his medical bag and retrieving all the tools he would need, the Earl stood near the foot of your bed, quite taken aback by the scene before him.

You were lying in the bed, almost lifeless. Your face was extremely pale, and he could see from here you were shivering violently. His heart began to pound in his chest, and he watched the doctor like a hawk as he listened to your heart and lungs, measured your pulse, and laid his hand on your forehead to try and gauge your body temperature.

“I believe it is just a fever for now,” he announced, replacing his stethoscope back in his bag. “Though we need to make sure it doesn’t evolve into the ague.”

The Earl nodded, beginning to pace as the doctor gave some orders to your mother. She was to fetch a wet towel and some strong herbal tea with lemon. You would need to drink a lot of fluids to try and flush out your fever.

The next few hours were quite nerve-wracking. Your mother forced several cups of tea down your throat and kept a wet cloth on your forehead almost constantly. You went through fits of restlessness, remaining just barely conscious the whole time.

And the Earl never left the room.

During the few bouts of time your mother was not there, the Earl sat by your side, pressing the cloth to your forehead and face, trying to keep you comfortable. He had never experienced something like this before - someone close to him suffering in such a manner.

He absolutely hated it.

You had been engaged for only a day, but he already knew he would do anything to protect you. To help you. To make you better.

It was during one of the times when the Earl was alone in your room that you finally opened your eyes. You had stopped shivering about half an hour ago, and your face was now a little more flushed, glistening slightly with sweat.

When your eyes fluttered open, the Earl sat up straighter, his brow furrowing immediately.

He opened his mouth to say your name, but he didn’t want to startle or confuse you. So he waited, watching as you slowly gazed around the room and took a hold of your senses.

When your eyes landed on him, your brow furrowed in exactly the same manner as his just had. “My lord?” you asked, your voice breathy and raspy. “What are you doing here?”

“You fell ill,” he explained softly.

You stared at him for a few moments before repeating your question. “What are you doing here?”

The Earl couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little chuckle. “I came to speak with your mother about -- and they said you hadn’t yet seen a doctor, so I brought mine, and I just -- wanted to make sure you got better.”

You swallowed heavily, and the Earl asked if you wanted some tea or water. You shook your head before closing your eyes again and letting out a tired sigh.

“You know,” you murmured. “This is just like Sense & Sensibility when Marianne gets stuck in the rain and falls ill and Colonel Brandon saves her.”

A very amused smile tugged at the Earl’s lips, and he leaned back in his chair, somewhat relieved. Yes, you were going to be just fine.

“You have quite the imagination,” he pointed out. “I believe I shall seek out this female author and get her to write a novel about you. A girl who thinks her life is its own novel.”

You simply let out a breath of a laugh, whispering, “I believe that would be a very good story. Best-selling, if you ask me.”

“I quite agree, my dear. I quite agree.”

Part 9

[cao-the-dreamer]

Sweet child o’ mine: you don’t know what you know

*continuation of this. It is time for the truth to be revealed... Also I am so sorry it took so much time, that’s what happens when you have a ton of WIPs.

I dedicate this part to @imababblekat. I hope things will get better for you, you are an incredible writer, and I can’t thank you enough for your beautiful stories!*

The robot hides her from the soldiers.

She hears Charlie's pleading voice.

Then nothing.

How long she remains engulfed in the darkness, she doesn't know. But then light comes back, and her body is gently picked by large fingers as if she was a piece of glass.

The room is unfamiliar, as the titan put her on a catwalk with all the softness a giant is able to display.

“A civilian?! You brought a civilian here?!” someone exclaims.

A squeak of fear, and then the unknown man is caged between ruthless metallic fingers.

“Silence, human Powell,” Shatter snaps back. “You have no saying in the matter.”

She should be terrified by the two giant robots standing in front of her.

Yet she only has eyes for Bumblebee behind them.

Her heart clenches when she sees him lying on the floor, his frame covered in dents.

Cold anger makes her able to speak with a steady voice,

“I demand to know what is going on.”

She feels uncomfortable under the two strangers' stare, but she keeps her deadpan expression.

“Are you sure it's her?” Dropkick asks.

He cannot help but feel intimidated.

The same piercing eyes…

“Her mother’s name is the same than our lady's. And Energon fills her body — it cannot be a coincidence.”

Whatever she was going to add is interrupted by the woman's voice.

“You haven't answered my question.”

To kneel before mere humans is humiliating. To bow before their lady's child is a privilege.

“We apologise for our behaviour, Lady Nebula,” Shatter begins.

Again with this name. Again with this sensation of familiarity.

But she puts the thought aside as she spats,

“You apologise? You apologise? You burst out of nowhere, threaten my friends, kidnap me, hurt Bumblebee and you apologise?! Don't think a simple excuse is going to make me forget that!”

She should be thinking twice before snapping at giant beings that can easily crush her with two fingers, but if they wanted to hurt her they would have done so before.

No, she is not aware of their intentions, but it is not about killing her.

A sigh escapes from Shatter's lips, a hint of shame weighting in her spark.

“It is true that we did not meet under the best circumstances, but—”

“Who's Bumblebee?” Dropkick's voice rises, confused — why should he regret his actions? No mercy for the enemy is the Decepticon’s motto.

Besides, they are soldiers. They don't do delicacy.

War is not a tea party.

They follow her gaze until they spot the scout on the floor.

“Wait — him? B-127? Why do you care about him?”

“Why shouldn't I? You have no right to treat him like that!”

Because he makes Charlie happy, and she is deeply grateful to him for doing so.

But Shatter is unaware of such fact, and would she know she would not care.

However, while she entirely disagrees with the human’s words, she knows that they are walking on thin ice.

But her partner is blunter to express their shared thoughts, and she cannot stop him.

“This Autobot scum deserved what he got!”

“Dropkick—”

“How dare you—”

“HE DESERVED WHAT HE GOT FOR SEPARATING YOU FROM LORD MEGATRON!”

The atmosphere sparkles with rage as his words resonate within the walls.

Shatter should scold him for his outburst, however, she knows. They are mere soldiers, but any Decepticon can understand the pain when a loved one is taken away from you.

The child was a miracle, a light piercing through the dark, and the Autobots have tried to extinguish it.

How could they? How is a good question indeed.

And then her perplexed voice,

“Who… is Megatron?”

It is as if she has punched them in the guts.

“So, you don’t remember… but after all, you were so young back then.”

“Stop with this charade at once! I don’t understand a thing of what you’re talking about!”

“Then we’ll talk. But not here. In a more private place.”

It almost sounds like an order, and Ashley — whatever her name is, doesn’t like it. But then the titan adds with deference, almost pleading,

“Please, Lady Nebula.”

Their eyes meet, same shade of red, and she cannot see any mischievous intention in it.

“That doesn’t mean I trust you,” she declares as she steps onto her extended hand, her stare steady and meaningful.

A smirk on the other’s face.

“It is nothing less I would expect from you.”

As she is about to leave, she glances at Dropkick, and her words resonate within his head.

“Dispose of the scout and the human. They are no longer of use.”

Now that is something he will enjoy to do.

When the robot flies away, the human stranded within her cockpit, the woman is oblivious to the unfortunate man gurgling a warning to his comrade before he is reduced to a puddle of water, oblivious to Charlie’s stifled screams as she watches her friend being shot.

No, her only thought is about the name said earlier, full of implications she cannot grasp yet.

And then Shatter speaks, her voice all around her like an echo from the past.

It’s a tale of a faraway world.

Where metal titans tear each other apart.

Where one of them leads and orders, speaks and ignites.

She pronounces his designation with awe and respect.

As she does with the woman’s name, the one by his side.

Two beings from two opposed places, and yet completing each other like jigsaw pieces.

How strange it is, to learn that her father is not from his planet, that he is a creature as powerful as these two individuals if not more, someone who has shared an unbreakable affection with the woman that has carried her.

“But did they love me,” she whispers as the truth shakes her mind.

“Of course they did, and he still does. You were the most precious thing they ever had.”

“Then why did they abandon me?”

The plane twirls in mid-air, as if it bumped against a great obstacle. Everything hisses around her.

“Who dared make you think that! How dared they!”

“Why so angry?” she whimpers, willing to be anywhere but within a furious machine.

“Lady Esther was killed.”

There is so much venom dripping from her voice it could melt down the ones it is aimed at.

She snarls then calms down, telling about the love Esther will never be able show to her, because she is no more, because of the former government.

The Council.

Term spat hatefully.

A bunch of privileged, tyrannical individuals, disgusted by the miracle and hope that were Esther and Nebula.

They hated organics, and hated the fact that one of them would give an heir to a mere low-cast.

As soon as the two lovers lowered their defences, the Council acted — and signed many death warrants, including their own.

Their irreparable act have ignited the war that has been ready to explode at any moment.

And through the fire all have howled and mourned their lost Lady and their lost light.

“Then we heard that you were alive — but taken away by the Autobots, scum embodying the legacy of the Council. We started to look everywhere for you — and shared our Lord Megatron’s hope to see you again. And now, you’re back.”

A heavy silence follows the last delighted words, as the woman impregnated herself with the truth about her origins.

Her whole world is shaken and she has to collect the new pieces together.

She is not from here. She is not human — not entirely. She is not normal, she is not an abandoned child…

She is wanted.

Oh, how sweet it is to realise such thing! How strange yet wonderful it is, to discover that someone cares about her!

Nebula — she has finally found her true name — Nebula wants to cry and squeal in joy at the same time.

And then she realises, and thinks aloud,

“What now?”

[bestiatexere]

Moonlight streams through open window that evening, illuminating intwined frames that lay curled together among the covers of her bed. Sheets tossed to the side to expose bare skin to cooling winds; the warmth of which emanated from her feline friend more than enough to leave the female easily content. Lithe fingertips ran against lean frame languidly, tracing idly along checkered skin as she’d remained dazed, defenses lax in the midst of familiar presence. 1/2

Up, down & up again, down along his spine. She thinks nothing of it as hand comes to rest just along the base of his tail, resting her arm for the time being as digits dragged softly along soft fur, petite frame inching ever closer, lured by the deep rumbling of purrs that’d resonated from his throat. With the gentle brush of velvet lips against his shoulder, she relaxes once again, thinking nothing more of it as she remains content; all the while - fingertips never stopping their motions. 2/2

Sleep was making only the barest of efforts to claim him,perhaps sensing the fact he didn’t wantto sleep, that he wanted more time in Jackie’s company. It was just so nice.This moment of quiet contentedness.

His body, and hers, lay so relaxed beside each other, almostas if they might just melt into the bed itself. Worries and stressful thoughtsdidn’t dare enter the space, in fact, his mind for the moment had no solidthoughts at all, just half-formed and quickly forgotten ones which swirledlazily around amongst a thick fuzz.

The purring which came from him was almost continuous, andit wasn’t something he was able to stop even if he wanted to. Such nice touchesshe was giving him, gentle caresses. Safe. He was safe with her, he knew.

And ah, she spoiled him so! The stroke of her fingers downhis back increased the sound of his purr, as if his spine was a slider on oneof her music mixers. He arched up a little towards her hand, enjoying thecontact and wishing for more. Sleep pushed further into his mind, welcomed inby the peace brought by the woman’s ministrations.

This was good. So good…

His eyes snapped open once her fingertips settled around thejoin of his tail, a spike of something different piercing through the hazein his mind. A cool breath was yanked in as scratches on his lower backcontinued, the purr faltering for a moment before going on in greater volume.Sparks seemed to dance along his nerves, originating from the point of contactwith Jackie’s fingers. The sparks tingled up through him and sent his heartinto the beginnings of a frenzy, causing his claws to emerge and press slightlyinto the bed as they did so.

What on earth was this?

He turned his head just enough to stare at her, and thenfurther to get a look at her hand on him. With her every movement, heat seemedto drip onto him, beginning to pool low. Instinct had him lift himself just alittle to increase the pressure of her fingers, knowing just a fraction morewould-

Oh god.

Bliss forced his eyes closed and dug his sharp nails furtherinto the bed. His head fell against the mattress with a gentle thump, but hekept the rest of himself that little bit elevated. A short, breathy whinepuffed out of him in equivalent to a moan.

This was good. So good…

No!

This was bad! So bad!

The rusty voice of his conscience spoke up. The delight and satisfactionof this sort of petting was different compared to that which he got from hertouches in other places. This wasn’t bringing him comfort or relaxation, no,this was stirring him up in an all too familiar way. Bad Chesh!

It wasn’t right. He needed to cool down. To move away fromher and get her to stop this glorious torture. Things would only get…harder for him should he allow himselfto stay under her touch, and that would be damn uncomfortable. It would feelrather wrong too, given the fact she had no idea what she was doing to him, andstill thought of him as just a leopard!

Oh, if only she knew who he was. If only he could be humanaround her and in this situation! How might that go? If she knew him and they…Maybe-

No! Don’t think about it! Don’t make it worse!

It was with great effort that he lifted his lower half and shiftedit away, just enough to be out from beneath her hand…

But that hand of hers followed just a moment later! The contactcontinued, each scratch of her fingers against his fur and skin causing smalljolts of pleasure along the sensitive nerves. Ah, it was so good. Perhaps he couldjust…let her continue…

His weight shifted on the bed as he moved closer to her,drawn in by the temptation of these new touches she gave him. The sensitivityof this spot among cat shifters was quite known, but he had never let anyoneget close to him in this way. It was a shame he had missed out on thesesensations all this time, he could have had someone else-

A different sort of heat swept over him. His claws curvedinto the bed once more as his stomach seemed to lurch and his jaw clenched. No.No. Definitely no, his body seemedto be saying, and his mind swiftly agreed. No one else was welcome to touch himin such a way. Only Jackie.

But he shouldn’t be letting her even now. Not while therewas so much she didn’t know at least.

Ignoring the large part of himself that was protesting andpleading to stay as he was, he huffed and forced himself to roll onto his sideto place his back away from her (andhopefully away from her provocative hands).

He opened his eyes and found her form with a sigh. She hadno idea what she did to him, damn woman…Beautiful, tempting woman.

With the way she seemed equally to glow with the light, and to have parts of herself hidden away indarkness from it, he thought perhaps she was the spirit of the moon herself.

Goddess, more like.

The thought had been amended at the sight of her short, silkpajamas, as they did little to conceal the enticing curves and soft skin shepossessed, riding up in places like they were. The shiny material called to hissenses as much as the shape of her body did. In his mind, he shifted to his human form and reached out to her.

It was a nice idea, the thought of his hand gliding alongthe camisole and then sliding beneath the silk of it to stroke the warm skin ofher side and hip. He would tug her closer, press her body against his, pet herthe way she had been him. He would bring his face close to hers and allowhimself to stare at her lips for a lingering moment before kissing her. It would be soft at first. Shedeserved a nice, slow, soft kiss. And he very much wanted to get to know thefeel of her lips against his before adding more intensity. Then, he would-

No! What was he thinking!

He couldn’t shift now.She would be terrified (and she would probablykick his ass) if she suddenly had a strange, naked man in bed with her.

But…his body was already trying to follow the path histhoughts had started down. The need to shift was rippling along his body,making the feline’s muscles and bones ache. He let out a small wheeze, feelingas if he was surrounded by an ever-tightening coil.

Out. Out. Out. He wanted out of this body.

But he had to stay!

A groan mixed with a whine as he buried his face against thebed and locked his joints in place. Don’tshift. Don’t shift. Don’t shift. He called to the leopard side of himself,willing it to stop the change from happening.

The discomfort running along his skin started to subside andsettle after a few moments. He took a slow breath and tilted his head, openinghis eyes in a slow movement.

And there was Jackie, propping herself up on her arm now inapparent concern for him.

At the sight of her, the urge to shift rushed over him onceagain like a tidal wave. He growled at himself and turned his face down, pressinghis nose against bed. And then he felt her fingertips whisper against the topof his head in an almost clumsy way, indicating her drowsiness and starting awarmth in his chest. Even while she was so tired, she was worried for him,trying to soothe him with touch. He supposed he must have seemed quite strangewith the small tremors in his body and odd behaviour, the sounds that rumbledthrough him.

She wouldn’t want him to leave. Perhaps she wouldn’t even beable to sleep without him there, having grown so accustomed to his presence (he had the same struggles on their rarenights apart). He couldn’t leave her, couldn’t worry her, and so he couldn’tlet her resume petting that spot on his lower back, no matter how tempting itwas to try get her hand back there. If she just scratched around his ears orshoulders, that would be okay…that would be safe, they would both be comfortedby that.

To reassure her everything was okay, he shuffled closer toher once again, his head turning to bump his nose against her outstretched arm.Her hand came to rest on his head, fingers combing lightly through the fur. Hepurred and leaned into the touch, his body relaxing. The heat from earlier was becominga distant memory.

Ah, this was nice.

The scratches started to slow down, her hand beginning to strokeand move downwards again…

Bad Jackie!

He lifted his head and nudged her hand. Keep it up here!

Perhaps he needed to make it more obvious…

Leaning forward brought his head against her chest (as surelythat would make it her only focus, yes?). So soft…and the silk of her topwas cool and delightful against his fur. With a louder purr, he nuzzled againsther more, his attempt at keeping her focus was both succeeding and backfiring…Herhands stayed atop his head, attention given around his ears and shoulders…but his mind was becoming hazy as he rubbed his face against her with alittle more enthusiasm.

The combination of the silk, her body, her scent, and the veryfact that it was her hands on himwas, quite frankly, spoiling him and his senses. Once more, heat began to brewlow within him, a slow-burning simmer as opposed to the sparks that had ignitedhim earlier.

Hello heaven…

Oh, the things he could get away with as a leopard…This was sog- bad! Bad!

The warning bells rang in his head, jolting the fog andcausing tension to pull at his muscles. What was he doing?! He couldn’t getstirred up again, and he certainly shouldn’tbe acting the way he was. It would be fine if she was a shifter, they had nosuch care for these things, but Jackie was human, and this was akin to takingadvantage, wasn’t it?

His tail flicked in a display of irritation as he withdrewhimself from her embrace.

Damn her! Damn her magical body and touch!

He shook his head, feline nose scrunching.

No, no, it wasn’t her fault. This was his problem. If he could just behave and control himself, if hecould ignore the thoughts that attempted to invade his mind…Like the thoughtof nudging her onto her back, changing to his human form and gently creatingspace between her legs for himself, of pressing close and kissing along herneck while his hands-

God damn it, Chesh!

Frustration growled in his throat and sent his tail twitchingbefore he hauled himself off the bed (witha little difficultly, given how his claws kept catching on the covers). Hethumped onto the floor lightly and headed to the door. There was no way hecould stay around her.

With any luck, she would be too tired to follow after him,and she would have a sound sleep (if not, he would find a way to make it up to her tomorrow).

His own sleep was unlikely to come now, completely put offby the thoughts which swirled around. There was no rest for the wicked, afterall.