#do not fit the mold of what ''young girls should be'' are more than ready to kill & definitely have in bee's case & most definitely will in

[wingedaches]

deep in my heart i know that bee farseer and louise belcher from bob's burgers would be best friends

[aseioh]

Notes: Listen, I saw those post of Bela and Donna together and my mind ran away with it. as a result I humbly offer you this story.

If anyone finds those drawings again would you mind tagging me. I would really appreciate it and I would like to thank the original artist.

Thank you. With that in mind here is a sneak peak.

Summary: Donna finds love in the most unexpected way. After all, who would even think of falling for her. Therefore it came as a big surprise to her when someone did fell. Never had she thought that she would be courted by Alcina’s oldest daughter.

As with all grand stories of lovers finding each other, the story of how Donna Beneviento found love in Bela Dimitrescu started out on an inconsequential happenstance.

‘There’s a leak in my house, and I’m afraid living near a great waterfall has its benefits and pitfalls. One of which is having damp wall bad enough to get mold.’ Donna thought to herself as she made her way to Mother Miranda’s inner sanctuary for the weekly meeting.

“I wonder if this is the mutamycete’s cousin invading my house.”

“Did you say something my dear?” Alcina said as she herself makes her way to the door, stooping slightly to enter. She holds the door until Donna enters. “Thank you, Alcina.”

“We have a mold situation! Mistress is saying that it might be the Mold’s cousin” Angie pipes up happily enjoying the attention Alcina gives to her.

“Angie hush, it’s nothing Alcina. One of the downsides living near the waterfall, I’m afraid it got too damp in one of the rooms that molds has started to grow. It’s my fault really, I should have inspected the house more often.” Donna explains, it’s a good thing she was wearing her veil, she wouldn’t want Alcina to see her embarrassment from something so small a matter.

“In any case I’ve already contacted someone from the village to clean and remove the problem. Although a more thorough inspection must be done, I wouldn’t want any more surprises.”

To their surprise Heisenberg was already there in the sanctuary, usually the rugged man was the last to arrive on which he calls it “fashionably late”. Moreau always the first to arrive every time Mother Miranda summons them.

There was a companionable silence between the two, as they normally only interact when Mother Miranda was there.

“Hello Countess, Lady Donna” As Moreau turns his focus on the two ladies arriving and tries his best to smile despite his monstrous form, Moreau has always been polite with everyone.

“What’s this about surprises?” Heisenberg asked as he lounges on his chair.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda has yet to arrive, giving the four Lords enough time to chat after all it’s not everyday that they can just gather around to talk. After a small catch up, curtesy of Angie’s animated retelling, the four Lords are now faced with a small problem.

Where should they house Donna?

Of course, as one of the Four Lords of the village she is both loved (more than the others apparently, if the village gossip is to be trusted) and feared, and although the weakest among the four she is well protected in her shrouded mansion that she had no real fear of being attacked.

Even with the slim chance that anyone would be brave enough to attack her, taking her away from the mansion poses a real threat to her safety. And that would not do.

“You could always bunker down with me at the Factory. If you don’t mind the smell of oil and a little bit of heat” Heisenberg offered as he casually took a drag off his cigar. “Hey, we might even finish one of our projects it’ll certainly save you time traveling from your house to my factory.”

“Ugh, as if. She’s a Lady Heisenberg. She’s not slumming down there with you, and she certainly need her own privacy” Alcina countered with a huff. The nerve of the man can he really not think beyond his work.

“Oh, right sorry Donna” Understanding what Alcina implied, Heisenberg had the decency to slightly blush.

“Sorry I can’t offer you to stay in my reservoir Donna. Even I think that’s no place for a Lady to live, not to mention the fish smell and cramped living quarters.” Moreau said apologetically.

“That’s alright Sal, I understand. Thank you for thinking about my welfare.”

“Well that leaves my Castle. And of course, you’re staying with me. I will not take ‘No’ for an answer. You living in a hovel just won’t do my dear” Alcina smiled triumphantly at the revelation

“If you were thinking of housing her, why did you pose the question to us?”

“Simple. I wanted to see what your reactions would be and honestly I wasn’t surprised by it”

“Smug bitch” Heisenberg huffs under his breath, he had to admit he walked right in that one.

“What was that?”

“Nothing”

“Are you sure Alcina, I don’t want to impose to you and your daughter. Aren’t you busy with the harvest and wine production? Not to mention I still have the other dolls to rehouse I can’t leave them there alone.” Donna inquired slightly unsure on what will happen to her small friends.

“That can be taken care of. Heisenberg can house them as well as lending some of his soldat to ensure that the villagers won’t go snooping around where they’re not wanted. Isn’t that right Heisenberg?”

“Yeah, yeah, leave those to me. Anything else your Highness?”

“She’s gonna need some of her stuff carried from her house to my Castle be a good boy and fetch them for us will you” Alcina smiles.

At that Heisenberg growls

“Now, now no need for that. Thank you Karl for your help” as Donna pushes herself in between Alcina and Heisenberg

“No thanks needed Donna, anything for my favorite lab assistant.”

At that Donna chuckles “Karl, I’m you’re only Lab mate.”

“Exactly”

With that Mother Miranda enters the Sanctuary and everyone went back to their places. Alcina and Heisenberg opposite each other in front of Miranda, while Donna and Moreau are at her right and left side, respectively.

After a grueling five hours of discussion and bickering (mostly of Alcina and Heisenberg), Mother Miranda had deemed it right adjourn the meeting and continue it the following week with cooler heads and a more substantial plan.

“Well dear are you ready? I’m sure Angie here is excited to see her new home. Heisenberg will take care of the rest of your baggage.”

“Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go”

A short and companionable silent ride later and both Lords arrive at the front of Castle Dimitrescu. This isn’t the first time Donna came to the Castle, but this is the first time she would be remaining for an extended period of time.

She knew of Alcina’s daughters, but she has never interacted with them. The most of their interaction stems from short glimpses and hearing the girls giggle from one of the rooms when she visits. Not that she made a personal effort to meet them, she was still rather self-conscious and awkward with first meetings. The very idea of interacting with new people (even if they are close to the people she considers as family) freezes her.

 It’s a good thing Angie’s always with her, she can be the extension of Donna’s subconscious.

“Welcome to Castle Dimitrescu dear, I hope your stay with us is pleasant. Consider this your home away from home” Alcina smiles widely as she leads Donna to the main hall. “Daughters come down here, we have a guest to welcome.”

With that swarms of insects came down from the foyer only to split into three distinct form. Three beautiful ladies came to rest in front of the pair.

“Daughters, Lady Beneviento and Angie will be staying with us for a while. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“Of course, Mother. Welcome Lady Beneviento, Angie.” Bela bows slightly as she welcomes Donna, the other two soon follows.

“Very good, I’m sure Donna is tired from the meeting as am I. Shall we all have dinner later? Bela would you mind escorting Donna to one of the guest rooms, I’m sure she’ll need to freshen up or lay down for a bit.”

“Understood Mother. Come my Lady, let me show you to your room” as Bela leads Donna to the guest room, there’s almost a tense atmosphere between them.

“Here you are Lady Beneviento. Ring the bell if you ever need something, We’ll assign a maid for your room and they’ll fetch it for you.” Bela smiles as she explains it to Donna, the room itself is big and opulent as expected from a guest room of the castle.

“Thank you, my Lady, for you and your Mother’s hospitality, this is indeed very much suitable. Angie and I will fit right in am I right Angie” at this Angie who’s been looking left and right at the place nods enthusiastically.

“Please don’t mind us, we’ll try to stay quiet as possible. We wouldn’t want to impose on your busy schedule.”

“Call me Bela, my Lady. and don’t worry, you won’t be an imposition. In fact, you just might be what we need at this castle right now. A breath of fresh air, if you don’t mind, I would love to chat with you about the outside world. As I’m sure you know, my sisters and I cannot leave the castle grounds for too long.” Bela asked unsure if what she’s asking is too much for the usually quiet Lord.

Sensing some hesitation from the young woman in front of her, Donna made her decision as well. ‘I will be staying here for some time. I may as well get to know the daughters Alcina is so fond of’.

“Of course, Bela, I would love to. And please call me Donna, if we’re to chat and get to know one another we can get rid of that formality. I certainly won’t mind.” And although Bela cannot see the smile on Donna’s face, she can surely hear the warmth of Donna’s voice.

“Yes please. Well then Donna, I’ll leave you to rest for now. Shall I fetch you for dinner time?”

“Yes, of course. I would love nothing more.”

With that Bela takes her leave of the room, and as she walks away, she can’t help but to smile to herself.

‘A breath of fresh air indeed’

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 2

masterlist

Here you go, my darlings! Hope you’re all having a lovely spooky season! If any of you have some spooky song recommendations or some song’s you think would fit Jin’s aesthetic let me know! I’m compiling my writing playlist for something wicked!---chaotic puff

Didn’t she realize that it was a privilege to have the attention of Kim Seokjin? He had a billion dollar corporate empire. He could have any woman in the world, but he had chosen her. Yet, she had chosen to be with a lowly man from his own company. What did he have that Jin didn’t? What could he offer her that Jin couldn’t? Nothing. The answer was nothing.

It made his blood boil, the thought of his precious darling in the arms of a salary man, a mere employee. Why choose such a man when he was right in front of her? Had he not lavished her with enough attention? Had he not made himself clear? His poor darling had lowered herself to such a level when he was more than happy to give her anything she desired, and yet she resisted him. She scorned his advances and let this mere peasant bask in her presence.  

“Oppa,” A whiny voice grated against his ears forcing him to pull his attention from her and put it back onto the woman wrapped up in his sheets batting her eyes at him in what she must have thought was a sensual look. “Come back to bed, oppa.” She pouted reaching out for him.

His eyes were cold and lifeless as he assessed her. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice had lost all of its babyish charm to taken on an incredulous tone.

“Get out.” He repeated tone sharp as he assessed her. When she didn’t move, Seokjin sighed reaching over the bed fishing his wallet out of his slacks and pulling out a few bills to throw at her. “Take it and go.”

“I’m not a prostitute!” She squawked glaring at him.

He scoffed running a hand through his hair and smirking cruelly down at her allowing his cold gaze to trail down her body. “You dress like one, and you certainly fuck like one. Now get out.” He snapped wanting the annoying woman out of his room. Women like her weren’t worthy of coming to his home. They were only ever invited to one of his hotels.

He waited for her to leave before he pulled himself out of bed and dressed himself calling his driver to take him home. He wanted the feel of her filthy, unworthy hands off his body and the comfort of his own Egyptian cotton sheets. More than that, he wanted his darling there in his arms and safely away from that man, not a man, a boy. His darling was too good for such a man.

He could remember the first time he had seen her four years ago. She had walked into his office so young and naïve. She was fresh out of college with no work experience and no real options, and yet she thought she could be his assistant. His assistants never lasted long, so why not hire the pretty young thing that had waltzed into his office practically trembling with nerves?

He had never expected her to last as long as she had, but she had surprised him. She was a fast learner and eager to please.

She had dropped to her knees tears heavy on her lashes as Jin scolded her for her mistake. She had messed up the contracts that had needed to go out tomorrow. As a result both she and Jin would have to stay late to fix them.

“I’m so sorry, sajangnim.” She whimpered trying her best to keep her tears from falling. “This is all my fault.”

He was surprised to see her on her knees before him, but not in a bad way. She looked so sweet and helpless before him, so weak.

“I’ll fix it.” She promised lips trembling as she apologized frightened of his wrath. “I’ll stay all nigh if I have to. It was my mistake. It’s my burden to bear.”

He smiled mentally cooing at the image. Such a sweet submissive creature perfect to be molded to his will.

“Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember.”  He told her helping her up gently patting her head as one would a scolded puppy. “Come now, Y/N. We have work to do.”

He’d known in that moment she was perfect for him. No woman was worthy of Kim Seokjin, none that he had found, but perhaps he could make one. From that day on he had started molding her to his will. She knew everything about him, how to take care of him just and did it all with a sweet smile. Years of work had gone into making her perfect for him. She had been molded from a trembling child into the perfect assistant, and then into the perfect woman for him. He had never given so much attention to a woman before. How could she not see that? Could she not see how much time and effort he devoted towards her?

His darling would never be so unappreciative. It must have been that man’s fault, that Kim Min Seok. He was ruining her, distracting her from what really mattered, distracting her from him. But not to worry, all would be well. He would save her from her own naivety. How was his poor stupid darling supposed to know that other men were no good for her? He’d get rid of the other man, and everything would be perfect again.

The poor soul thought he could take Jin’s darling away from him, but Jin had just the thing for him. It was fortuitous that the ingrate worked for him. It made getting rid of him so much simpler. It was a just matter of firing him, though it almost seemed like letting him off too easily. The idiot thought he could propose to Jin’s darling.

The thought darkened Jin’s mood even further. His men had discovered that Min Seok had bought a ring planning to propose to Y/N and take her away to Busan once he got his promotion. He thought he was going to take her far away from him, but Jin was never going to let that happen. Min Seok wouldn’t be getting the promotion, and he certainly wouldn’t be proposing to Y/N.

The worst of it was that they had been carrying on their illicit affair for a year. As soon as Jin had stopped keeping dabs on her, she had gone and sought the attention of another man. In a way Jin blamed himself. If he had continued to keep an eye on her, this never would have happened. The problem would have been resolved before it had ever had the chance to even begin. He should have kept a closer eye on her. He’d be sure to do just that in the future.

“Y/N-ie,” He called out from his office almost gleeful about the news he was about to deliver. She was there in an instant smiling at him like she always did. “I need you to file some termination papers for me.”

“Termination papers?” She asked her smile dropping to be replaced by a look of confused sympathy. “Who am I filing them for?”

“Kim Min Seok.” He watched with glee as the color drained from her face and her eyes widened in mute horror.

“Can I ask the reason for termination?” The way her voice shook slightly didn’t escape him, nor did the way her hands clenched around the tablet she held. “I thought he was being considered for the position in Busan.”

The smile on his face had an almost vicious quality to it as he regarded her. “He’s been embezzling from the company. The police will be coming for him soon.”

Jin was quick to stand and catch her as she stumbled in her heels gently leading her over to the sofa to sit. “Are you alright, darling?” He fussed hovering over her.

“I’m fine, just a little light headed.” She said trying to paste on a reassuring smile though Jin saw right through it.

“Why don’t I get you some water, darling?” He cooed placing a hand on her shoulder, happy to see her so complaint under his touch.

“That’s really not…”

“I’ll get you some water. I can’t have my best girl fainting on me.” He ordered sternly trying to hide his satisfaction.

He poured her a glass of water and brought it back to her settling himself beside her on the sofa. “Should I call for a doctor?” He prodded placing a hand across her forehead to check her temperature feigning ignorance as to her reaction. She pushed his hand away gently shooting him a shaky smile though that didn’t stop him from fussing over her. “You should have told me if you weren’t feeling well, darling.”  

“I’m fine, really, sajangnim.”

She was anything but fine. Min Seok was going to be fired for embezzlement. She had no idea, and she honestly couldn’t believe it. Min Seok was a good man, a sweet man. He would never do something like this. Why would he risk everything when he was about to get such a good job? Why would he risk both of their futures like that?

“Perhaps I should have Suho take you home.” Jin cooed sympathetically, rubbing gentle circles across her back taking the moment to bask in the scent of her perfume. It wasn’t the rose today, he noted with a frown. It had a darker amber tone to it that he didn’t recognize. A gift from her suitor perhaps, a thought that did not please him. The only perfumes she should wear were the ones he gifted her.

“Really, sajangnim. I’m fine.” She assured eyes wide as she turned her gaze to him. “I should get back to work. Thank you for the concern.” She bowed standing up ready to flee, but Jin grabbed her wrist stopping her from leaving.

“You’re still very pale, darling. Sit here for a bit. I’ll have one of the other secretaries file the paperwork.” He cooed pulling her back down onto the couch.

“I’m really fine, sajangnim. I’ll take care of this right away.” She tried to stand, but a firm hand on her shoulder kept her seated.

His gaze was firm as he stared her down. “I really think you should rest, darling.” He saw she was about to protest again but cut her off before she could. “If you don’t rest here, I’ll have Suho take you home.” He threatened perfectly serious. He knew it was only the shock, but his darling was too sweet for her own good, and he couldn’t have her running off to see her boy toy before the police dragged him away.

“Alright.” She sighed sipping at her water again though all she wanted to do was march downstairs and ask Min Seok what exactly was going on before the police dragged him away. “Thank you, sajangnim.”

Jin was happy to have her there choosing to remain by her side while she “rested” and keep an eye on her.  He didn’t intend for them ever to see each other again, and her shock gave him the perfect excuse to keep her close and out of the way as the problem was dealt with.

Jin kept a sharp eye on her as he waited for a phone call from security telling him that the bastard had been dragged away. But the phone call he received was not what he was expecting.

“What?” He shouted anger rolling off him in waves and startling the still shocked woman sitting on his couch. Her eyes shot over to his wide and worried as a dark cloud settled over him.

“Sajangnim?” She asked rising from the sofa ready to do damage control for whatever had happened.

“Find him.” He hissed before slamming his phone down.

“Is everything alright, sajangnim?” She asked again stepping over to the desk. “Is there anything I can do?”

He took a deep breath trying to stamp down his annoyance so as not to frighten her. “No, darling. I was just informed that the little rat got away.”

It was as if a bolt of lightning had hit her. “Min Seok wasn’t arrested?”

“No.” He growled glaring down at his phone as though it had offended him. “Someone warned him. He got away before the police could arrive.”

“Oh.” She breathed out in a mixture of relief and shock much to Jin’s displeasure. His carefully laid plan was a mess, and she had the audacity to be relieved. How could she still be thinking of another man? “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” She asked snapping out of her reverie. “Should I coordinate with the police and security teams?” She rushed over to the sofa to pick up her tablet her mind whirling with possibilities.

Min Seok hadn’t been arrested? Was it alright to feel relieved? Should she want him to go to prison? Love was a crazy thing. Even if he had done what Seokjin said he had, and she still didn’t really believe that he would ever do such a thing, she didn’t want to see him in prison. He had always been such a good man, always so sweet to her.

“No, darling.” He sighed running a hand through his perfectly styled hair mussing it up, something he normally wouldn’t do. “You’re still pale. I think it would be best for you to go home.”

She shook her head fervently too wired to think about going home and stewing in her thoughts. “I think I would be of more use here, sajangnim.”

“You would be of no use to me if you fainted, darling.” He scolded standing up and taking the tablet from her hands. “You should rest.”

“But…”

“It’s not up for debate, Y/N.” He placed a hand on her back and practically pushed her out the door of his office. “Grab your bag. I’ll take you home myself.”

She wanted to protest, but there was really no arguing with Kim Seokjin. So she did as he said, and collected her things putting her work phone and tablet into her tote bag and closing out of her computer all under the watchful gaze of her boss.

He kept a hand on her back all the way down to the lobby despite the fact that she was no longer shaky on her feet. She hadn’t been since that first stumble, but that didn’t stop Jin from keeping her close and keeping his hand where it did not belong. She had tried to move away, but every time, Jin would replace his hand on her back again. She eventually gave up trying and just allowed him to keep it there.

The ride to her home was silent and awkward. Jin was seething that Min Seok had evaded him, and Y/N was caught up in thoughts of everything that had happened that day. Yesterday they had been having lunch together, and today he was on the run from the police. It just didn’t make sense. The Min Seok she knew would never do something like this. The more she thought about it the more it didn’t make sense.

She was only pulled out of these thoughts when they arrived at her home to be greeted by the sound of barking.

She sat up immediately on alert. “That’s Jinnie.”

Jin looked at her confused. What did she mean? He was sitting next to her, and he certainly didn’t make such an obscene sound. “Jinnie?”

“He’s a stray I take care of. Well, he’s really more my dog now than a stray. He’s not a fan of people, but he usually doesn’t bark. He should be inside actually.” Her brow furrowed further as she caught sight of the shaggy hair of the dog she’d spent so long trying to coax into her home. It had taken her ages to get the dog to trust her. She never left him outside when she was at work out of fear something would happen to him.

“You named your dog Jinnie?” He asked more offended than anything else.

She hummed in agreement before practically bolting out of the car with Jin following behind calling for her to come back.

She approached the dog cooing gently trying to get him to calm down. “Hello, handsome boy. How’s the most beautiful boy in the whole world?” The dog kept growling at her door, but one ear was cocked back in her direction and his tail was wagging slightly at the sound of her voice.

She was able to get close enough to grab his collar, but the human Jin had approached at this point much to the displeasure of the dog. He took one look at Seokjin and started growling moving to stand in front of Y/N protectively.

“I’m sorry. He doesn’t like strangers… or people really. He’s a little finicky.” She smiled nervously keeping a firm hand on his collar to keep him from lunging at her boss. “And he was already riled up. I think there’s someone in the house.”

“I’m calling the police.” Jin announced already pulling out his phone. “We’ll discuss your dog’s name later.”

She nodded moving to punch in the code to her house letting Jinnie run in ahead of her. Jinnie was by no means a small dog, and he was more than likely to chase out whoever had entered her home than she was. She went in after him much to her boss’ displeasure as he called for her to come back.

What they found inside, was not what she expected.

“Min Seok?”  

part 3

[holidaywishes]

She’s Adorable

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: Loved the last writing omg it was so good !! Can I request one where you’re really really shy and Fred takes you to a team party and you sort of become really closed off and only stick to him? Maybe you slowly get used to Steph but after everyone let’s Freddie know that they thought you were adorable and actually really like you? If that makes sense? It’s okay if it doesn’t, thanks love !!

  Warning: fluff, a little bit of angst due to insecurity

  Author’s Note: I AM SO SORRY that this has taken so long! It’s been in my drafts since I got the ask but I wanted to put out a couple chapters of my Fred series before I wrote this and then it got a little buried. It’s a little short and maybe not exactly what you were asking for but I hope you still like it and that it makes you happy!

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  You and (Y/N) met about three months ago but you didn’t start dating until about a month ago. Which meant she hadn’t really ‘bonded’ with any of the team or their girlfriends yet but you wanted her to be able to stand her own with them because you knew once they got to know her, they’d love her. She was hard not love.

  “They’re going to love you!” you pleaded with her after she rejected your invitation to the team’s Halloween party

  “I don’t know, Fred...” she sighed, “I don’t know anyone well enough to like... feel comfortable...”

  “You’ll get to know them!” you tried again, “I promise, they’ve all been where you are”

  “But they’re not like me. The girls are all confident and like fit in super easily with everyone”

  “(Y/N), trust me. They will love you, you don’t have to be nervous.” You continued to plead with her, reassuring her that the team would love her and she’d have a bunch of new friends in both them and the girls, until she eventually agreed

  “Okay okay!” she laughed, “our couples costume has to be ah-mazing then”

  “Oh.. it will be” you laughed, wrapping your arms around her and kissed her forehead

“What’s your idea?” she asked with a smile

“Peanut Butter and Jelly” you said and she wrinkled her nose up at the idea

“Hmm nope”

“Wonder Woman and Superman”

“Hmm...”

“Beer and a solo cup”

“Creative but no,” she laughed, “we’ll just have to keep thinking about it.” After a couple days of tossing around costume ideas, you and (Y/N) had narrowed it down to Chucky and Tiffany from the Bride of Chucky or

“The twins from the Shining?!” you whined, earning a giggle from her, “you want me to wear a dress?”

“Yeah, it’s time for you to be the sexy one for a change”

“Are the twins from the Shining sexy?” he raised an eyebrow at you and you grimaced at the words

“No, they’re children... okay forget the twins. So I guess that means Chucky and Tiffany!”

“Great! Neither of us have to wear a wig!” He joked

“That’s exactly why I picked it!” she replied

“This is going to be a great party”

“I still don’t know...” she hesitated, “don’t go too far away from me. I might need an out...”

“I got you.”

xx

  “What if they don’t like me?” you whined to your best friend, Jennifer, as she helped you with your makeup

  “They’re going to love you!” she exclaimed

  “That’s what Freddie keeps saying,” you sighed, Jennifer nodding emphatically, “but I don’t know. I’ve met some of the girls when I go to the games and they’re all... they’re just not like me”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They’re confident without trying,” you started, “I think it has something to do with how pretty they are...”

  “HEY!” she yelled and you leaned back in your chair, “you’re beautiful. I don’t want to hear you say that you’re not pretty, okay?”

  “You don’t get it..” you tried

  “Freddie loves you, he thinks the stars rise and fall with you!

  “It’s not him I’m worried about,” you stood up quickly, walking to the kitchen to grab a drink, “it’s the team. Most of them are young and... superficial? I don’t know if that’s the word I wanna use but.. you know what I mean? They’re quick to befriend the girls who are there already because they’re pretty and tall and they fit this mold that all the other NHL wags seem to fit. I don’t. But I really like Freddie and I guess... I don’t know, I guess I’m worried that if his friends don’t like me, he’ll second guess our entire relationship.”

  “Sweetie...” Jennifer said as she made her way to give you a side hug and bring you back to the chair to finish your Tiffany makeup, “that’s not going to happen. Yes, this girls fit a mold, but you are so much more than some mold and Freddie knows that.” Just then, the doorbell rings and Freddie lets himself in

  “Tiff, baby, where are you?” he yells as he closes the door, laughing as he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, “my hair looks crazy...”

  “Just try not to stick to him all night okay?” Jen whispers as you turn the corner to meet your boyfriend, who had managed to get the Chucky look just right without any help; or so he says

  “Wow. You look... so sexy” he smiled and you rolled your eyes

  “Thank you. We should probably get going or we’re gonna be late.”

  “Aren’t you gonna compliment me?” he chided

  “You look great, babe! Just like a murderer-turned-psychopathic-doll!” you laughed and waved goodbye to your friend as you walked to Freddie’s car. When you got to the party, you asked Freddie to sit with you for a second before you went in

  “Just breathe. Everything is going to be fine.” And, as if his words were holding you up, you made your way into the house, ready to show off your confidence.

  “FREDDAYYY!” Willy and Penny greeted as you walked through the door, Freddie smiled awkwardly at the tipsy state that Willy already seemed to be in, “you two look great. Chucky and Bride of Chucky?” You nodded with a small smile, clinging to Freddie’s arm

  “And you are...?”

  “Taco.. Bell” Willy said as he pointed between his and Penny’s costumes

  “Clever” Freddie laughed before they walked past you to get another drink

  “OH MY GOD! I LOVE THIS!” Stephanie exclaimed as she met the two of you by the couch, “this is such a great costume for you guys!”

  “Thanks” you smiled. You had always liked Stephanie, she didn’t seem as uptight as some of the other girls could, which you always attributed to her and Mitch being together from the start. Even still, you weren’t overly familiar with her, “Morticia?” you asked

  “Exactly! My Gomez is around here somewhere...” she giggled as she scanned the crowd

  “I’ll be right back okay?” Freddie whispered to you, forcing you to squeeze him tightly to let him know that you were still nervous, “I’ll be quick, I promise.” He kissed the top of your head and was gone in an instant

  “AH THERE HE IS!” Steph shouted when she finally found Mitch, who was already on his way to her

  “HEY!” he said with a smile

  “Hey” you repeated, standing awkwardly for a minute

  “So.. who are you supposed to be?” he asked to break the silence

  “Tiffany... Bride of Chucky...”

  “So Freddie must be dressed as Chucky then. That’s awesome”

  “Thanks!” you yelled over the music, smiling when the conversation kind of ended there

  “We’re gonna go dance, wanna come?” Steph asked and you shook your head

  “I’m just gonna wait here for Fred.” They shrugged and left you to sit down. When Freddie didn’t come back right away, you began to feel like it was a mistake for you to come but you still wanted to try

  “Hey!” Nick greeted as he plopped down on the couch before. He was new, you were new, maybe you could actually have a conversation with him

  “Hi!” you smiled

  “I’m Nick!” he said, and you realized he’d completely forgotten who you were, “nice to meet you”

  “(Y/N), nice to meet you, too.” You sighed, deciding not to correct him

  “So... what are you?” his words were slightly slurred and you realized that he was probably edging on being drunk

  “Bride of Chucky” you responded

  “FREDDIE’S DRESSED AS CHUCKY!” he laughed, “OH SHIT! THAT MAKES YOU HIS GIRL!” You smiled awkwardly at his realization

  “That’s me!”

  “I’m sorry! There are so many faces to remember and I might be a little drunk right now” he confessed

  “No worries. It’s okay, I completely understand. I’m new too, remember?” you laughed, “I’m just gonna go find something to drink. You need some water?”

  “That sounds nice” he sighed and followed you to the kitchen, where you grabbed yourself a glass of punch and Nick a glass of water

  “THERE SHE IS! MY BRIDE!” Freddie yelled from across the bar before he made his way to you, “YO TIFF WHERE YOU BEEN?” He laughed at his impression

  “I thought you said you were coming right back” you said to him when he finally reached you

  “I did.. I said that...” he replied, nodding once to Nick who stood behind you, “but I wanted to see you chat up everyone”

  “Oh yeah? And you never thought to save me?” you smiled

  “You were doing fine...” he scoffed

  “I was sitting alone on the couch for like 20 minutes before Nick here re-introduced himself to me” you said

  “I’m sorry, baby, I got caught up talking to people. There were pictures...” he mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m here now.” The two of you spent the rest of the night together, you glued to his hip, while he spent the majority of the party doing more talking than you’d ever really seen him do. On more than one occasion, you found yourself lost in his smile and his laughter

  “So... have you started to drive her crazy yet?” Auston asked suddenly, forcing your head to jerk to look at him

  “No” you laughed as you scrunched up your nose at Freddie

  “Why would I?” Freddie asked

  “Well... I mean.. come on. The late night ‘practices,’ the long stretches without seeing each other, having to fuck over the phone...” you furrowed your brow at the words coming from Freddie’s teammate

  “What late night practices?” you smirked, trying to distance yourself from whatever Auston was trying to stir

  “You’ll find out when the team’s on the road fo--”

  “Alright, that’s enough!” Freddie interrupted, Mo helping him get Auston sobered up

  “He’s harmless, you know,” Alannah started, “just lonely. He also doesn’t want to settle down, so seeing Freddie in a relationship has him all confused.” You knew she was probably right and you trusted Freddie, but you had only been with him for a month, so who was to say that he wouldn’t do something while he was on the road. It wasn’t long after Auston’s drunken words that the party wrapped up and you said goodbye to everyone.

  “You know what he said... it’s not what you think” Freddie stammered

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing happens on the road”

  “I know” you whispered

  “I mean some of the guys do stuff but I’ve never..” he started, “I’m not that guy anymore.”

  “I know” you repeated, leaning across the centre console to kiss his cheek

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  You woke up to (Y/N) asleep next to you in your bed and your phone buzzing with a string of one line texts from your friends

  “Bring her out more often” Alannah sent

  “Why are you hiding her?” Nick said

  “I knew I liked her” Mo joked

  “Sure, she’s quiet but she’s sweet” Mitch admitted

  “I’m not a huge fan, she seems a little stuck up” Auston’s text read and you could only roll your eyes at his words

  “She’s adorable” Stephanie said and, for some reason, her approval seem to bring a sense of relief to you that you didn’t know you needed

  “You think so?” you sent back as you walked out of the room

  “Yes! I know I’ve met her before as just your friend,” she replied, “but seeing her with you was so sweet. Her little face lit up whenever you spoke or made us laugh, like she was so proud. It was so cute”

  “I’m glad you guys liked her,” you admitted, “she was nervous you wouldn’t.”

  “Well tell her we loved her. Tell her Auston is an idiot because he is.” You laughed at her last response just as (Y/N) woke up, stretching as she walked over to you

  “Who are you talking to?” she asked before kissing your neck

  “Steph”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” you smiled, “she says that everyone loved you”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yes. Everyone.”

  “I think Auston might have something to say about that” she raised her eyebrow at you

  “I told you everyone would love you and it would appear as though I was right. Again.”

  “Don’t be too proud of yourself, Fred. It was one party, where everyone was already very drunk”

  “It’s the drunks you have to please” you teased and she rolled her eyes

  “If you say so”

  “I do. Which means I’m right. They loved you, just like I knew they would. What do I get?” you joked

  “How about a kiss?” she smiled, walking over to you to lay a small peck on your nose

  “How about a lil more?” you teased, pulling her to sit on your lap

  “Like what?” she giggled

  “Like...” you started, your voice trailing off as you thought about what to ask for, “hmm, how about we spend all day in bed?”

  “I like that idea” she smiled, wrapping her arms around your neck, so you could carry her back to bed

  “Starting November off right.”

[prettyliteralwarriors]

Graymist Development

As a kit Graymist was an only child, so she got kinda spoiled as a kit by her mother (Shadepelt) and her aunt (Greenflower). She became a bit full of herself, a bit bossy, and really loved getting attention. She was a quite a bit of a brat by the time she became an apprentice.

Then the pressure to be as good as her mother set in. Mind you, this pressure was not from her mother herself. Shadepelt was a very supportive single mother who would do anything for her daughter and support her as best as she could. But it should be noted that Shadepelt did make mistakes. She was still brazen and impulsive and rebellious. She told stories of her youth and filled her daughter's head with ideas of adventure and rebellion. There were also points where she was a bit too hard on Graymist. Overall, Shadepelt did the best she could as a mother.

But unfortunately, Shadepelt was known in RiverClan as a warrior who was incredibly gifted in the ways of fighting. The clan expected her daughter would end up being the same. Graymist's mentor ended up being someone who expected a lot from her and pushed her rather hard. It soon became apparent that Graymist wasn't the best at physical fighting. This was in huge contrast to her mother, and it disappointed her mentor greatly. Due to this she got quite few insecurities when it came her own strength and fighting prowess. It got to a point where she would train long into the night, eventually ending up with insomnia as a result.

Also during this period of time, Graymist's loud and bossy behavior, which was mostly due to overcompensating, started to backfire. At first she was the "leader" of the apprentices at the time, but eventually the other apprentices started doing their own thing and ignoring her entirely. Her overall bratty attitude left her with almost no friends before she was even half way through apprenticeship.

But there was one apprentice who stuck by her side, Voletooth. The two had grown in the nursery together, and were near inseparable already. Graymist understood she had to rein in her attitude, and Voletooth was patient enough to support her in her growth. There were times where they grew apart, but they always made up. In the end they truly were inseparable.

That isn't to say Voletooth wasn't without his own faults as well. He wasn't all that good at standing up for himself and he prioritized others rather than himself. Graymist scolded him for this constantly, and wouldn't let him help her unless she was allowed to help him. They worked through their issues together.

But, even though Graymist had support from those around her, she still was haunted by her insecurities. Overtime she had become a very confrontational cat, always ready to get into an argument. She was amazing at verbal fighting but horrible at physical fighting. The pressure was suffocating and she found herself lashing out as a result.

This ended up being the catalyst for her choice to have kits early into warriorhood. The pressure was off her back, just for a bit. She rationalized her choice by thinking that maybe after she had her kits and watched them grow she would become a stronger warrior. So she focused on her kits.

Voletooth, who at this point had become her QPP, helped sire the kits. After they were born he stuck around and helped raise them. Together they raised Sneezecloud and Mallownose. There were ups and downs, but they did what they could to be the best parents they were capable of being. The two of them passed what they had learned from their time as apprentices to their kits.

The period of time in which she was raising these kits was a big turning point for Graymist, for a variety of reasons. Graymist realized she wasn't cut out to be a mother at such a young age, but did try her damndest to raise her kits as best as possible. She also learned how much her attitude and behavior can affect others. And the biggest turning point of all... She met Squirrelflight.

This stubborn girl with a lot of dream and a lot of spirit. Someone who was loved by her entire clan but didn't feel like she totally belonged. See, the journey to find Midnight had shaped her in ways she could barely put a word to. It shaped her views of the clans, her life, her outlook on everything. She was molded by that expirience.

The sight of Squirrelflight standing on the other side of the river was burned into Graymist's mind. At first she assumed it was a hatred for a cat from another clan. See, the pressure to be good at fighting and defending her clan, mixed with her wariness of outsiders due to her Rogue dad ditching, left Graymist as a cat who hated outsiders. But, as the memory continued to haunt her, she confronted Squirrelflight at a gathering, and she realized all at once that she was wrong about that feeling.

She tried to intimidate the ThunderClan cat when she was finally able to go to a gathering, but it didn't work. Instead Squirrelflight just smiled and asked how her kits were doing. And... for some reason... this struck a chord with Graymist. She didn't know why but. This small act broke what she thought about outsiders.

She... She needed to know more. She found herself walking the lakeshore and lingering around the ThunderClan border, in hopes of meeting the red she-cat again. When the two finally do see eachother again, Graymist finds that she doesn't know what to say. So all she says is "how are you kits doing?" This sparks a conversation, but unfortunately it doesn't last for long. Squirrelflight must return to patrol, and Graymist doesn't want to get caught.

Graymist flees back into RiverClan territory and thinks about the conversation she just had. She confides in Voletooth about the expirience. He encourages her, and soon enough this becomes a regular occurrence. She finds herself looking forward to talking Squirrelflight again.

At first she doesn't see her often, Graymist's training an apprentice after all. But eventually they start seeing eachother more and more after her mentorship ends. The two find that they have fallen deeply in love.

As Graymist talks more to Squirrelflight she finds that her beliefs about outsiders starts to crumble. She starts realizing how silly it is to seperate the clans in the first place. She starts wishing that she could live in a world where all the fighting would stop and the clans would work together.

What solidifies this view is when a drought takes the life of Voletooth. The same drought that takes the lives of Blackclaw and Dawnflower. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, if the clans weren't so busy fighting, her clan mates wouldn't have starved. Maybe Vole would still be there. So she grows to despise fighting between the clans.

Her grief is shared by Mistyfoot, now Mistystar, who had lost her mate in the drought as well, along with her leader soon after. The two help eachother in their grief.

Afterwards, Graymist becomes vocal about her hate of the fighting between clans. She can't stand it anymore, not after all that she has lost. She moves to ThunderClan, a place that is far more accepting of outsiders and has far less fighting. She is happy there.

She finally feels she is fit to be a mother again and her and Squirrelflight have kits (sired by Bramble). These kits are Sparksparrow and Alderheart. They mean the world to Graymist, as does her mate.

Graymist finds that she feels that she belongs when she is with Squirrelflight.

So that's where she stays.

[hopelikethemoon]

Reunion (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Reunion  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2700 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. December 24th 1998. This is getting split into two parts. I’ll get to more hopefully tomorrow.  Summary: Mitch arrives for Christmas. 

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​@plexflexico​ @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​ @frietiemeloen​@arrowswithwifi​ @random066 @uncomicalhumour​ @heather-lynn​ @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque​@theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​@yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​ @jaime1110​

“When was the last time you saw your brother?” Steve questioned as he took a sip of beer, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“I was nineteen and it was Christmas.” You explained, “I went to college in the city, I could’ve easily visited more often, but…” You shrugged, tugging at the ties of your apron, moving to hang it on the hook on the wall.

“You nervous?”

You laughed, “That’s an understatement. It’s all very weird, honestly. Is there going to be resentment because I just ghosted out of their lives? Do they really want to come?”

“Well,” Steve scratched at the back of his neck. “People don’t rearrange their Christmas schedule if they don’t want to. I’m sure after eighteen years, your brother wants to reconnect.”

“You know,” You started with a smile. “You and Connie reminded me of Mitch and Darla.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You both welcomed me into your home when I moved to Colombia.” You smiled at him. “So don’t get too jealous that my actual big brother has shown up.”

“You thought of me as a brother?” Steve taunted, clutching his chest. “I’m flattered.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You snorted. “Get the cookies out when the timer goes off.” 

“You’ve got it.” 

You headed out of the kitchen into the family room where Monica and Connie were corralling the girls. “Where’s Javi?”

“Bedroom.” Monica supplied, sweeping Sofía into her arms, much to the little girl’s amusement. 

“Thanks.” You replied, “Everything good here?”

Connie smiled at you, “We’ve got it covered.” 

“Good.” You sighed, before you made your way down the hallway towards the bedroom. You pushed open the door, stepping inside and shutting it behind you. “Are you hiding?”

“No.” Javier chuckled, catching your gaze in his reflection as he held up a tie in front of his chest. “Which one?”

“You’re meeting my brother, not the president.” You rolled your eyes. “What about the burgundy button up? It’ll go nicely with my dress.”

Javier pursed his lips as he considered, “Slacks still?”

“Are you comfortable in them?” You shook your head, moving towards the closet to retrieve the burgundy button up off the hanger. 

“I’m not uncomfortable.” He admitted, unbutton the cuffs of his white shirt. “I just wanna make a good impression.”

“Then be yourself,” You said as you stepped in front of him, draping the shirt over your arm as you started unbuttoning the shirt for him. “Mitch was always laidback. He was actually a lot like my father, and I’ve always told you that he would’ve loved you.”

“Yeah?” He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “I want this to be a good experience for you, baby.”

Javier’s brows rose upwards and he caught your hand, examining the ring on your right hand. “When did pops give this to you?”

Your cheeks burned, “Thanksgiving. Are you… are you okay with me wearing it?” 

You had meant to tell Javier about it when you were still in Laredo, but there was never a right time to bring it up — Monica, Nadia, and the girls were constantly around. You didn’t want it to bring up questions. It didn’t fit your ring finger, which was an unexpected blessing. But it did fit the middle finger of your right hand like it was made to be worn there. 

“Of course I’m alright with you wearing it, baby.” Javier lifted your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “I didn’t realize pops gave it to you.” 

“I understand he tried to give it to you before.” 

Javier huffed, “Fairly certain if I’d given it to you then, you would’ve run for the hills.”

You scrunched up your nose, “I might’ve been uncomfortable, but I would’ve stayed right here.” You cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.” 

“Love you too, baby.” He bumped his nose against yours. “What does your brother do again?”

“I think he’s still in real estate brokerage.” You brushed your fingers over Javier’s forehead, playing with his hair. “Basically real estate agents work under him? I never understood it as a kid.” You shrugged, undoing the last button of his shirt. “Change. They should be here soon.”

Javier gave your ass a playful swat as you turned to walk away and you couldn’t help but flip him off. 

You pulled up the shade, peering out the bedroom window, “Pops and Stevie sure have hit it off.” You remarked, watching as the older Peña tossed a ball across the yard, only for the dog to retrieve it and bring it back to him. 

“He’s probably got himself a joint out there,” Javier quipped as he pulled on the burgundy shirt, doing up the buttons before he turned to show himself off. “Better?”

“Much.” You walked back towards him, curling your arm around his waist as you turned him back towards the mirror, marvelling at your reflections. “We look good together, don’t we?”

Javier kissed your temple, “Don’t stress it, baby. Your brother’s going to be thrilled to see the life you’ve built, baby.” 

“We’ve built.” You corrected him, leaning into his side. “I’m going to go make sure Steve got the cookies out.” You glanced at your wrist watch. “Oh God, they’re going to be here in like ten minutes.” 

“Baby,” He caught your hand when you started to pull away from him. “You’ve got this. Don’t stress it.” 

“Easier said than done,” You made a face, before inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. 

“What’s your nephew’s name?”

“Tate.” You answered breezily. “And he’s like… twenty-five now, I think. Maybe twenty-six.” 

“Tate.” Javier repeated, putting it to memory. “What does he do?”

“I honestly have no idea.” You admitted, “Last time I saw him, he was like ten.” 

“Damn.” Javier followed you out of the bedroom. 

“Did you two have fun in there?” Steve called out. 

Javier flipped him off. “She was helping me pick out shirts.”

“God, Peña… you’ve gone soft.”

“Steve.” Connie warned him, stifling a laugh before gesturing between you and Javier. “You’re very complimentary.”

You smoothed your hands over the black and floral dress you had chosen to wear. “I didn’t know what said — merry Christmas, it’s nice to see you after almost two decades!”

“When’s Santa coming?” Josie questioned, popping her head over the back of the sofa. “I don’t know how much longer I can be good.”

“It’s true. She’s a menace.” Monica deadpanned.

“Well,” You started, reaching over the sofa to play with her hair. “Can you stay good while your Uncle is here?”

“Uncle Steve?” 

“No, not Uncle Steve.”

“Oh,” She nodded thoughtfully. “Cause daddy told me I don’t have to mind him.”

“Javier!” Steve barked with a laugh. “You making trouble for me with the girls?”

Javier shrugged, “Maybe.”

Stevie started barking in the backyard a mere moment before Chucho slid open the backdoor, “I think we’ve got company.”

“Oh God.” You reached for Javier’s hand, squeezing it tight. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“You’ve got this, baby.” Javier assured you, squeezing your hand three times before releasing it. 

The doorbell rang. 

The last time you had seen your brother, you had been nineteen years old and tired of feeling like a burden — even though you weren’t. Mitch and Darla had wanted you there, but you had misunderstood their generosity for pity. 

You understood that now, because you’d seen it in Monica’s eyes, you heard it in her words. That innate fear that kindness was only kindness because someone was sorry for you. 

But things would’ve been different if you’d strayed from the path you’d ended up on. Darla was keen to mold you into a mini-her. You’d gone to your fair share of charity dinners and museum fundraisers to know your life would’ve been filled with snobby rich people and blue collar crime. 

If you had stayed there, you’d probably married to some man with a country club membership and a taste for couples tennis. 

You wouldn’t be standing in Miami, surrounded by the friends that had become a family you chose for yourself. 

And in the end, you hoped Mitch didn’t resent you for bouncing without offering a forwarding address. 

You inhaled deeply before you opened the door. 

“Hey, kid.” Mitch was still Mitch. He was still all warm smiles and kind eyes, though his dark black hair had gone grey at the edges. There were lines around his eyes and lips, because time had passed. Memories stood still, but all around you the world had moved on, just like you had. 

“Hi.” You breathed out, before you stepped over the threshold and hugged him. 

Behind him stood Darla, older too, but still just as regal as she’d been in her youth. “It’s so good to see you again,” She smiled, taking you into her arms once Mitch released you. 

It felt like just last week, she’d sat on your bed and talked about how badly she wanted a daughter. How she couldn’t understand how your mother had thrown away that opportunity to have a mother-daughter relationship. 

You never asked why, but you knew Tate was still their only child. 

“Look at you!” You remarked, taking in the young man loitering behind them, hands stuffed into his suit jacket. “Last time I saw you, you were this tall.” You gestured to your hip. “Do you still like Hot Wheels?”

Tate laughed, “Is that the requirement to attend Christmas dinner?”

“If you ask my daughter, yes. I made the mistake of telling her about the collection you used to have. She’s got a track in her bedroom.”

Darla nudged her son in the ribs, “He’s still got them all in his old room. I don’t think he’s ready to part with them.”

“Maybe they’d find a loving home with your daughter.” He suggested. 

“She’d be honored,” You turned and gestured through the door. “Come in, come in. Everyone’s already here.”

Mitch seemed rather surprised as he stepped inside your home, and took in the very crowded family room. 

Stevie barked softly, wrangling herself out of Javier’s hold as she curiously went about sniffing the guests. 

“This Stevie—“

“Nicks?” Mitch questioned with a grin. 

“The one and only.”

“Can’t think of anyone but you when ‘Go Your Own Way’ comes on the radio.” He admitted, leaning down to pet Stevie on the head. 

You felt goosebumps rise on your arms at his words, “I completely forgot about that.”

“Really?”

You nodded, laughing nervously. “I can assure you, I’m not lonely anymore.” You turned then, gesturing to Javier. “Mitch, this is my partner, Javier.”

Mitch held his hand out to shake Javier’s hand, “You’re a lucky man, you know that?”

“I consider myself the luckiest,” Javier assured him with a smile, before he shook Darla and Tate’s hands. “Thanks for bringing your family down for this. I know it means a lot to her.”

“Second she called, I knew I had to drop everything.” Mitch looked at you then, “How long had it been?”

“Too long.” You confessed. “Probably eighteen years.”

Mitch shook his head, “Time’s definitely not moving slowly.” 

“These are our daughters Josie, Sofía, and Monica.” You gestured to them. “And this is Monica’s girlfriend Nadia. Nadia’s holding Emily, who is Olivia’s sister.” You then gestured to the Murphys, “They’re our friends, Steve and Connie’s daughters.”

“And that’s my pops, Chucho.” Javier supplied, his hand smoothing over the small of your back. 

“Well, kid, you were certainly right. You don’t seem to be lonely anymore.” Mitch remarked with a grin as he squatted down to Josie’s height. “Do you know who I am?”

Josie shook her head, looking up at you then. In her very unsuccessful whisper, she asked, “Is this the not-Uncle Steve?”

You laughed and nodded, “This is your Uncle Mitch and his wife Aunt Darla. And their son Tate.” You played with her soft curls, “Uncle Mitch is my brother.”

“You have a brother mommy?” Josie reached up and grabbed at your hand. “I didn’t know that.”

You grimaced a little, “My past has always been a bit… verboten.” You admitted. 

“I get it.” Mitch shrugged, “No hard feelings.”

“None at all,” Darla assured you. “This is a beautiful house you have, sweetheart. I always hoped you had landed on your feet.”

“It was a little shaky at first,” You admitted. “But I think Javier and I have finally got it all figured out.”

“How long have you been together?” She questioned. 

Javier scratched at the back of his neck, “We started working together back in ‘87.” He nodded towards Steve. “That’s how we know Murphy.”

Mitch nodded as he listened. 

“We, uh… we didn’t end up together until ‘92.” Javier finished. 

“You know,” He started, “I read those articles. I just can’t believe that you put up with all of that. I couldn’t work for the government. No, sir.”

“You’re tall.” Josie said as she pointed at Tate. 

Tate chuckled, “And you're small.”

She put her hands on her hips, “Well that’s just because I’m five!”

“Five? I’m almost three times as old as you are.” Tate said enthusiastically. “Maybe that’s why I’m tall.” Tate stepped past his parents, “Do you have anything to drink?”

“We have beer,” Monica offered. “And non-alcoholic stuff.”

“There is plenty of beer,” Nadia added. “Especially when we’re wrangling little ones.”

“I’ve gotta ask—“ Darla started, once the three young adults had disappeared into the kitchen. “She’s got to be the same age as Tate, how is she your daughter?”

You looked between Darla and Mitch then, “I know I didn’t always seem grateful when I was with you, but I passed that generosity along.”

Javier took your hand, “Monica was in a bad situation and she needed parents. Ones that actually loved her.”

You blinked rapidly as you felt tears prickle in your eyes as you watched their eyes get misty too. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry, but… it’s a lot.”

“Take your time, kid.” Mitch gave your arm a squeeze. “So what are you doing these days? That’s an easy topic, right?”

You laughed, wiping at your eyes. “I’m wrapping up four-year stint with the Miami PD. Javier’s talked me into teaching at the university with him.”

“She didn’t mention that you taught,” Mitch nodded his head approvingly. “Good on both of you. The articles certainly made it seem like you’ve both got plenty to teach.”

“It’ll be a learning curve, but I’m excited to teach. Javi’s students have been great.”

“Dad would be so proud of you, kid.” Mitch shook his head slowly, holding your gaze. “I know, I know. No tears. But look at you! I always had big hopes for you, but this… the house, the kids, the partner.”

“This is a lovely photo of the two of you,” Darla pointed out, gesturing to the picture hung on the wall over the television. The one that had been taken mere minutes after you and Javier had gotten married. 

If only they knew. 

“And those girls of yours!”

You laughed, “They are a handful. We’re so lucky to have friends who help.”

Darla smiled at you, “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” You let go of Javier’s hand, hugging Darla again. “Thank you for everything you did for me when I was a kid.”

“Of course sweetheart.” She squeezed you tight. 

Sofía squirmed out of Connie’s hold, toddling over to the two of you. 

“You wanna meet your aunt, Sofía?” You questioned as you swept her up into your arms. “This is Miss Darla.” 

Sofía seemed skeptics at first, hiding her face against your shoulder. 

“Hey, wanna see the grill I just got?” Javier questioned, “Steve just helped me set it all up.”

“Early Christmas present in hopes he learns to grill,” You called out as the four men headed for the backdoor, “Men in their toys.” You remarked to Darla, as laughter from the kitchen filtered through. 

“I worried about you. A lot.” Darla told you, “But you did good all on your own.”

“I never thought I could be this happy.” You admitted. 

“You just had to ‘go your own way’, as a wise band once sang.”

[grahammasurian]

Dumping Your Responsibility.

The dumpster outside my apartment building was completely overflowed. The truck missed a couple weeks for some reason and people just kept piling their shit on top regardless.

“My sin will be forgiven, the next sinner will go to hell!”

This came into my head whenever I thought of the garbage situation. I considered myself 99% innocent since I didn’t use the dumpster during these couple weeks. Unfortunately when disaster happens it doesn’t care how much you were involved, all it sees is your darkness.

What I could have done was call up our landlord. Maybe I didn’t add directly to the trash pile but I still could have brought attention to it. Unfortunately my mind gave me a great reason for not calling him, a wonderful why even bother type of belief. These curses will kill you but they provide immense relief.

He lives someplace nicer and keeps his back turned on this building, so if I don’t tell him anything he’ll keep believing whatever fantasy he’s living. Whenever I bring up something for him to look at he puts it off or conveniently forgets about it, can’t say I blame him. I'd love to do the same sometimes and then feel guilty about it for the rest of my life. It’s hard to convince myself that a life of eternal guilt is worse than a life of hard work. Maybe the simple solution is to just disregard the guilt and make everyone despise me, though I can’t say that seems like a good long term strategy.

I guess everyone likes to avoid responsibility too, don’t get me wrong I get it, because man it sure feels good to not take anything seriously, just sit back and relax through life, I’ll lay down in my bed and fold into a quarter circle. Pull my knees up to my chest and gently hold myself, like swinging in the breeze floating along to somewhere better.

Eventually some birds had a war over the trash that was at this point spilling everywhere, old food, old clothes, plastic shit, maybe real shit. It was a disaster but seemed to be an appropriate punishment for us. I watched a seagull pull apart a bag for 30 minutes, something about the completely boring and ordinary scene held a power over me. I imagined this feeling of our civilizations being consumed again by nature, it’s easy to forget that nature is constantly trying to integrate us more effectively. Integration with an ocean with a mysterious intention.

We could have salvaged things there, rescued some of our dignity and just accepted responsibility for what we did by not doing. I sat some nights debating whether or not I should just go out there and clean up everything alone. I didn’t mind the day, but at night I just loved how things seemed to come to life inside me. There was a power that I didn’t have access to during the day.

I decided it wasn’t worth cleaning up, after all I don’t really care what these people think of me, unless they express it to me. Plus I felt like I fit in better with my environment as a lazy drifter. When I run into the people that live here occasionally there is enough willpower on all our parts to say “Hi” and then move on our way. The two people that live under me, man and wife, maybe around late 50’s early 60’s always give me a glimpse into a possible future. The guy looks like his soul has been sucked out and not in a good way. It scares me for a moment and I tell myself I’ll keep it in mind but my actions don’t change.

The next week after the missed pickup and our experiment with apathy, something happened.

It was 12:33 AM, I was laying down in my bed with the window open, listening to the wind and feeling the slight breeze on my skin. Sometimes I’d lay there for hours listening to music or in silence, using drugs of course. The sounds of the night combined with distant sounds of the city created the backdrop for the worlds I explored in my mind. I break away from the atmosphere and write some ideas down in some form then go back to my mind.

I heard a familiar sound, the mother of this girl screaming in that resentful kind of way. Whenever someone talks that way to me my stomach gets sick, I see this person is using me to escape from something. You know instantly that this isn’t about you anymore, it's about them.

I hated the way this mother yelled at her daughter, I didn’t have kids of my own but I didn’t mind them, I generally see children as innocent beings until they gain awareness. When they become aware they turn into wood, hopefully they make it through and become real but many don’t. Some play as the twisted craftsmen, shaping the world with design. Night after night I’d hear this poor girl being molded into something that will make her unhappy for the rest of her life.

Even though it’s hard to feel connected with darkness, you still elicit feelings for things of the night. You react more on principle and not bigger picture at night, this mother was injecting venom deep into the mind of her daughter. Like a jackass I sat there each night it happened and listened to it like music.

 Being man enough to walk down there one day and call her out on her shitty behavior was always in the back of my mind, but then I would think some more and figure what difference would it make? Sometimes I snap out of my delusions and wake up, I see who I am from up here.

Just look for the right words.

It didn’t happen every time but sometimes this warped girl would dash outside, slamming doors and shouting behind her. Most times I’d hear her small steps pace around or walk down out of earshot then eventually I’d hear her again coming from the other side of the building, maybe doing two or three laps like that before cooling off and gaining enough strength to go back. She feels like she just wants to give up but chooses to continue to face that fate which shows just how much courage she had.

This night the young girl made her usual escape, something about the scene caught my attention. Normally I just ignored it for the most part, but tonight I felt worried for her and listened to see if she was okay.

The shriek of her screaming scared me sober. That kind of pitch that you can only get when you feel real terror.

Confusion at night amplifies fear to a level that can go beyond anything you’ve ever felt. Sometimes hearing a loud noise randomly in the middle of the night only to realize it was something conspicuous is an interesting moment of tension and release of tension. When you listen to death it creates tension that doesn’t go away unless you force it to release.

I couldn’t see much but the sounds made up for the rest, I looked on in horror as this poor unfortunate girl came running towards the front door to come back inside. She must have forgotten to prop it open a little this time like she usually did. The door was shut, she couldn’t escape through there and it was the only chance she had time to try.

This whole thing happened so fast it was as if my mind refused to think about what I was seeing, this bear that must have smelled some food nearby came across her instead.

Hearing someone produce screams that come from a dangerous place, sends a painful shock through you. It would have been nice if I was one of those people that got off on that kind of thing but unfortunately I had to deal with the feelings of misery, dread, sadness, fear, anger, all at once.  

A little bit slower than what should have been immediate there was incredible energy from all around, people coming out and making noise, not too many but enough for me to be impressed.

The general sentiment at the time was:

“Oh My God!” A big fat lady wearing a shaggy blue sweater screeched out. There were many other intense shouts, deflated yelps, sobbing murmurs, all mixing together slowly creating the atmosphere for a tremendously horrific scene.

All these half awake people, semi-disconnected souls felt something deep down within them for once. For the first time in decades some of these hopeless people felt alive, they acted without thought calling back to our primate ancestors. They witnessed a driving force, without realizing the lesson unfortunately.

Some of the people approached the girl to try and attempt some kind of help and others stayed away, accepting the situation or too afraid to know how bad it really was.

Some sobs were heard throughout the night as people came and went, voices that sounded defeated, voices that sounded ready to give up and heavy with guilt.

“Emily! No!” The mother cried. Obviously still drunk. Obviously deluded into thinking her daughter is anywhere close to alive.

“Please baby I’m so sorry! Please wake up baby!”

I had great disdain for this mother, but at that moment I felt bad for her. This woman made mistakes and in the end all it causes is suffering.

They came for her daughter, whisked her away into the abyss forever. Black cloaks riding into the stars on their skeletal horses. I wasn’t sure whether or not the constant beating I was hearing was a drum or my heart. We summoned these demons with our ritual, the choices we made were acts of incantation that brought forth monsters with the power to possess mortals, the possession was the final step in ensuring resurrection lest one of us snap out of the hypnosis and rescue the rest from the gaze of Medusa.

Then some downcast EMT workers took away her body, from the low looks and words after immediately coming upon the scene it was clear that hope didn’t exist anymore. I never saw the aftermath personally, where the actual attack happened was obscured to me by the awning over the door. Sometimes imagination makes things worse.

The mother followed her daughter into the darkness 3 weeks later.

[bellemorte180]

I have a request!!! Modern day OG!KC after Caroline is turned with Klaus in the 11th century

Drabble number seven!

Year 1001 AD

The hut was dark as Caroline’s eyes fluttered opened. She was lying on the floor of Mikael and Esther’s home, staring at the dim ceiling. Her body ached and everything seemed hazy. Her gums burned and the back of her throat felt parched. She turned over, trying to remember how she got there and why she felt so wrong.

“Caroline.” She turned to see her husband crouching beside her. Klaus’s eyes were filled with sorrow and fear; but there was a hint of relief behind them. She reached up to touch his face; pushing a curl of his dirty blonde hair from his eyes. “I thought you were not going to wake. I thought that the magic did not work on you.”

“Magic?” The night before flashed before her blue eyes. She remembered arriving at her in-law’s hut with Klaus for an evening meal in remembrance of Henrik. She remembered the elaborate meal and how the wine tasted off; almost as though it was infused with a substance that Caroline had never had before. She remembered watching Mikael stab her husband with his sword as she cried and begged him to leave him be; Esther holding her back the entire time. She remembered the pain of the same sword being shoved through her abomined. “They killed us.”

“Yes.” Klaus whispered. Caroline sobbed lightly, the memories of their marriage flowing through her. After Klaus convinced her that his love for her was true and sincere, Caroline finally allowed herself to fully fall for him. They were supposed to grow old together and have children. In hindsight, she knew that Klaus kept his promise; he loved her till their dying day; it just came for sooner than either expected.

“How?”

“You need to drink.” Klaus said urgently, pulling a young girl towards them who was covered in bite marks and appeared to be near death. Caroline looked at the body of the girl; and the smell of her blood caused the pain in her gums to increase. “You need to drink, and I promise you that I will explain. Just. Drink. Please.”

Klaus’s words drowned out as the piercing in her gums became more painful and her thirst overtook her. The faint heartbeat of the girl pounded in her ears and Caroline felt the monster under skin appear for the first time. She bites down on the girl’s wrist and let the blood flow over her lips. The feeling was euphoric. She drained the girl of her remaining blood and Klaus ran his fingers through her light blonde curls. When she pulled away and the girl’s dead body crumpled to the floor; she realized that everything had changed.

A millennium later.

Mystic Falls, to which had been named centuries after they fled their small village, had changed since she had last been inside the town’s boarders. Gone where the huts, dirt paths and farms that she had loved only to be replaced with a small out of the way town overrun by vampires. It almost seemed fitting with it being the land where vampires where created.

She drove slowly through town and parked in front of the manor that Klaus was remolding for them; the address easy to find. Her heels clicked against the stone as she climbed the few stairs leading into the home. The manor was large, unfinished and would one day be grand. The manor reminded her of all the dreams Klaus and Caroline shared together over the centuries; and Caroline was not a fool to think that Klaus planned it otherwise. He built this place for her.

Klaus wanted her here; drawing her in with hopes that she will never leave again. It wasn’t that Caroline left often, only twice in their marriage, but when she did, it was for a long period of time. It had been about fifty years since she saw her husband and the rumors echoing throughout the supernatural world made her set down her own white flag and travel across the ocean. No longer were their rumors of the Curse of the Sun and the Moon flying around but instead, a tale that Klaus became something more. Caroline knew what it meant.

Her husband broke his curse.

Entering the manor that was still under construction, Caroline looked around and closed her eyes. She could feel him. He was there and it wouldn’t take long before he sensed her presence. A millennium of marriage forged a bond between them, even when they angered one another. A second later, Caroline felt Klaus flash over to her and she grabbed him by the throat; pinning him to the ground.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” Klaus’s smirk was infuriating, seeming all too comfortable under her grip. In response, she just squeezed harder and allowed the monster under her skin to come out and play. “Come now Caroline, you know I adore that monster of yours.”

“Show me. I want to know if it is true.” Caroline narrowed her eyes, watching every movement Klaus made. There was a shift and Klaus’s turned gold. His fangs where sharper, eyes fiercer and she saw it; she saw his wolf lingering in his eyes. “You did it. You really did it.”

“You should have seen it, Love. It was glorious.” Klaus replied, causing a small dig at Caroline. The argument they had in the sixties that caused Caroline to walk out, with the knowledge that she would eventually return, over the daggering of his siblings. The daggering was a sore spot for Caroline, devolving from the fact that he daggered Caroline in 1492 when he was trying to break his curse the first time. Despite that last time they spoke was in anger, the smirk he wore told Caroline that he was no longer angry with her. She too had gotten over their fight and simply missed him.

Caroline leaned down and kissed him passionately. She straddled his hips and ground down onto him covered member. Klaus wrapped his arms around her, weaving his fingers through her hair while Caroline kept her hand on his throat. A cough sounded from above them and Caroline pulled away from her husband.

“Um, am I interrupting?” A voice came from the other side of the room. Caroline snapped up and grabbed the vampire who interrupted them; slamming them against the wall. He fought her but he was so young that Caroline overpowered him easily. “Call off the guard dog Klaus!”

“Let him down, Love. I think the is here trying to make a deal on behalf of his traitorous brother.” Klaus replied and Caroline looked over her shoulder at him. On his request, Caroline dropped Damon to the ground. Klaus came up behind Caroline and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I think you’d like to get to know him, Caroline. He is Stefan’s brother. Remember him? That boy Rebekah loved?”

“This is Damon Salvatore? The brother Stefan pinned over during the twenties?” Klaus nodded, confirming Caroline’s question. “I thought he’d be more handsome.”

“Want to make the introduction, Satan?” Damon asked, narrowing his eyes at the two of them; rubbing his neck as he went. “What to let me know why I was just attacked by a barbie doll?

“Be careful Damon, I’ve seen her rip men twice your size in two” Klaus chuckled, kissing the side of Caroline’s head. “I’d like you to meet Caroline.” Klaus introduced her with a kiss on her head. “My wife.” The look on Damon’s face was comical. His eyes grew wide and they darted between Klaus and Caroline.

“Wait. What? Since when do you have a wife?!” Damon focused on Caroline, taking her in. He could admit that she was attractive. Tall, blonde and far older than him. The age rolled of Caroline like a bolder and Damon was unsure what to think. “Who would marry you? And where was she when you decided to drain the life out of Elena?”

“We had fight. I was over it, but she was being stubborn.” Klaus muttered, waving his hand as though he was dismissing the fight that kept them apart for decades. In truth, since they were vampires a few decades were nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“I was being stubborn? Seriously!? I was in Paris!” Klaus froze there for a second. His eyes snapping to her and the weight of what she just said hit him like a ton of bricks. Paris was their white flag. Whenever they had a fight and were ready to make up, they would go to Paris and make their presence known. The other would follow. “I made it obvious that I was there. I threw parties, had few massacres and hell, I even threw orgy hoping you would show. But nope, you never did.”

“Caroline-“

“But then I hear that you’re making waves in Mystic Falls after a century of silence. People were starting to forget that the Original vampires were more than just a fairy tale. When the rumors of a doppelgänger surface, I knew why you didn’t come. Why you didn’t even notice. I thought you no longer wanted me.”

“I vowed to love you for eternity, that hasn’t changed.” Klaus told her in a broken tone. His shoulders sagged and Caroline smiled brightly. She jumped into his arms and kissed him hard. Their lips molded together, and Caroline pressed her body against him. Klaus’s hands trailed over her curves; thrusting his hips into her as he went.  

“Well this is awkward.” Damon coughed, shamelessly watching the two of the with a bemused expression. They broke apart and gazed at him with annoyed expressions. “You summoned me here Klaus to discuss my brother, not to have me watch you dry hump your estranged wife.”

“Wait, what about Stefan?” Caroline asked. “What am I missing?”

“Stefan stole the coffins love. He wants me to leave town, leave the doppelgänger alone, see he is in love with her, so is that one over there actually, and promised to give them to me one every decade or so.” Caroline narrowed her eyes at Klaus and crossed her arms. “He has been killing my hybrids and threatening to drop the coffins in the ocean.”

“I see” Caroline narrowed her eyes at Klaus and cross her arms. “I guess I have to clean up another one of your messes.” This is what happens when they fight. She leaves for a short time and everything falls into chaos. She rolled her eyes and turned to Damon with her hand outstretched. “Dial your brother and give me your phone.”

“What? No.”

“Do it. Now.”

“I’d do it Damon. She can get a bit testy when she doesn’t get her way.” Caroline shot Klaus a very unamused look and turned back to Damon with narrowed eyes. The young vampire scowled and pulled out his phone; dialing Stefan’s number before placing the phone in the palm of her hand.

“Thanks.” Caroline pressed the phone to her ear and with her free hand, grasped Damon’s neck and snapped it; his body crumpling to the ground. She listened to the phone ring; waiting for Stefan to answer it. After a second, the line clicked on and Stefan answered.

“What do you want Damon?”

“Stefan! It’s Caroline.” The stillness on the other line told Caroline exactly what she wanted to know. He remembered her. She lifted her eyes upward to meet Klaus’s. He was watching her with a curious gaze, unsure of what she was going to do. “From what I understand you have my family held hostage.”

“I’ll give you the same deal as I gave Klaus. Leave town and I’ll give you a coffin every decade or so. If not, I’ll kill every hybrid your husband has sired to him and drop your family into the ocean.” Stefan told her in a cool tone.

“See this is where my husband and I differ. I don’t care about the hybrids. Kill them. String them up and torture them for all I care.” Klaus blanched to argue but Caroline held up her finger, silencing him. “But if you do not give me my family back by the end of the day, I’ll rip Damon’s heart out and send it to you along with his head. If you still don’t give me my family back. I will track down that doppelgänger you’re so fond of, turn her into a vampire and torture her for all of eternity.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Caroline chuckled in a pleased tone. “I will also burn this entire town to the ground for good measure; can’t have friends left behind who might want to avenge her after all.” Caroline watched as Klaus walked over to Damon’s body and lifted him up. He placed him into a chair and grabbed some rope to bind him with. “Oh, and one final thing. You even drop one of those coffins into the ocean, I will string you alongside the woman you love and make you watch as I rip her intestines out over and over again before I feed them to you. You have until sundown.”

Caroline ended the call and bit her lip; watching Klaus work. The two of them most likely were going to pass the day torturing this vampire until his brother brought the coffins in exchange for him. Klaus, despite being irritated at the fact that Caroline was more than happy to sacrifice his hybrids, would go along with the plan. He was never one afraid to argue his point with her but he just got her back.

“Did you really have to sacrifice the hybrids?”

“Oh, don’t pout.” Caroline snapped. “I’m home now so what on earth could you possibly need them for?” Klaus grunted but said nothing. “What if I make you a deal? If Stefan fails to bring us the coffins, we will kill Damon, kidnap the doppelganger and before I turn her, I will let you drain her of all her blood in order to make more hybrids.” Klaus eyed his wife and thought on her officer.

“Fine.”

“Perfect.” Caroline said cheerfully. She walked over to Klaus and kissed him lightly on the lips. “See, compromise. We are not completely awful at it!”

[avatarstories]

Azula’s New Room

“Excuse me, Princess Azula,” one of the staff members says nervously as Azula plays in the garden with Mai and Ty Lee.  “His Majesty, Fire Lord Ozai, has commanded you to an audience in the throne room.” 

“I’ll be there straight away,” Azula responds. “Mai, Ty Lee, wait here for me.” 

“Of course Princess Azula,” they say together with a slight bow. 

Azula puts her shoulders back. What had she done in the past few days that demanded an audience with her father, she thought nervously. She had done perfectly in her firebending lessons, she had completed all the assignments from her classes at the Royal Academy, and perhaps most importantly, she had not asked at all about Zuko. She did not even know if Zuko had woken up yet since he had been put on the ship after the Agni Kai with their father. What would he look like the next time she saw him…? She straightens herself again and tightens her hair piece before walking through the curtain into the throne room. 

Upon entering, she kneels immediately, bringing her forehead to the gleaming black stone floor in front of her. 

“Sit up, Azula,” her father commands from behind his wall of fire. 

She waits an extra second before sitting up to ensure she had paid enough respect. She rises to a kneeling position. She holds herself upright and waits quietly for her father to begin speaking. 

“I have a task for you, Azu-,” he begins. 

“It’s my honor to serve you, father. Thank you for the opportunity,” Azula says. 

“I was not finished Azula,” he responds, his voice low and dangerous. “Do not interrupt.” 

She drops her gaze. “I am so sorry, father. Please forgive me,” she pleads without taking her eyes off the reflection of her father’s fire in shining black tiles before her. 

He regards her for a moment before he continues. “With your brother now gone, he cannot serve as the Crown Prince, a title of which he was never actually worthy,” Ozai starts. “As you are aware, your brother was subjected to rigorous strategy and military lessons, at which, as you are also aware, he was a failure. With your brother unable to return until he has captured the Avatar, which based on his previous performance, I do not expect to happen soon, if at all, the title of heir apparent falls to you, my Azula.” 

At that, she looks up. 

“You will be molded into the future Fire Lord,” Ozai continues. He pauses before he speaks again. “You know, Azula, I often see myself in you.” “

You do, father?” she asks. 

“Yes. When I was growing up, I always had a feeling that fate had played a cruel trick on me. Why should Iroh, who always seemed too soft for our nation’s empire but yet had the favor of our father, have the divine right to rule simply because he was born before I was? Me, the loyal son, me, who would have not abandoned the siege at Ba Sing Se if Zuko had been in Lu Ten’s place. No, it would have been an honor to know that I had raised a son who gave up his life to serve our nation.” He pauses. “Fate dealt you the same hand, Azula. It made you second born to a brother who would never be as powerful as you. And as if to add insult to injury, it made you a girl…Though I believe I have trained any feminine softness out of you in your mother’s absence, have I not?” 

Azula clenches her fists in her lap as she is reminded of being second to Zuko despite being better than him at everything, except of course his sword training, but why would a future Fire Lord rely on swords instead of his bending? She is also reminded of being second in her mother’s love. How could she always be so approving of Zuko when Azula was clearly the better child?... How could she just leave them…She pulls herself back to the present before she can get lost in a sea of thoughts. 

“You have, father,” she says flatly. 

“Good, good,” he responds. “We will have a party to announce your new title. Your friends, of course, are invited. And in the meantime, I have ordered the servants to move your things into Zuko’s old room, as it is the room reserved for the heir apparent. They should be done by the time you leave here, and if they are not,…well, perhaps you will get your first lesson in ruthless leadership.” 

“Very good, father,” she responds. 

“You’re dismissed, Azula.” 

She rises and bows deeply to her father before turning on her heel towards the exit. 

“Azula,” he calls before she reaches the curtain. 

“Yes, father?” she asks turning back to face him. “You should know I expect perfection from you, and nothing less. I would hate to have to be as harsh on you as I was with Zuko,” he says. “I once told your brother that while he was lucky to be born, you were born lucky. But I think you will find that you should never rely on luck alone, Azula.” 

Azula swallows. Despite his being the Fire Lord, her father’s words feel like ice. “Of course, father,” she says with another bow. “I should take it as an honor to be trained by you, and I should receive any punishment you see fit when I do not reach the standard you expect of me.” 

“I am glad you understand, my Azula. Now, as you were,” he waves his hand to dismiss her, and she leaves quietly before he can stop her again. 

After leaving the throne room, Azula finds Mai and Ty Lee in the garden where she left them. 

“Mai, your hair would look soooo pretty in a braid, can you at least let me try?” Ty Lee asks her. 

“No,” Mai says flatly. “Braid your own hair.” 

“Mine’s already braided, silly!” Ty Lee is the first to notice Azula returning. “Azula! How was your audience with the Fire Lord?” 

“My father has named me Crown Princess,” she says. “We’ll be having a party to celebrate my new title, and I’ll be moving into Zuko’s room.” 

“He has barely been gone for week,” Mai mutters. Ty Lee seems to miss her comment, or if she does hear she pretends not to. Azula looks at Mai with a searing glare. 

“And he might never return, Mai,” she says icily. “So you should get used to me being the heir apparent.” 

The slightest bit of aggression in Azula’s tone makes Mai seek to placate any tension. “Of course, Princess Azula. I meant not offense,” she says. “Your father is wise to be so – so efficient in his planning.” 

Azula smirks at that. “I do not have any explicit new duties except, of course, to study and learn from my father’s example,” she replies. I expect perfection from you, nothing less. 

“But come, my new rooms should be ready. Let’s go see them.” Azula turns and does not wait to see if Ty Lee and Mai are following her. She knows she does not have to. 

It is a short walk from the gardens to the wing of the palace where Azula and Zuko’s rooms were. Staff members shuffle out of the door, all relieved to have finished the task of preparing the room on time. There is a collective sigh of relief before they see Azula coming down the corridor and all take bows while she approaches. 

“Your highness,” one of the staff members says, “your new room is prepared. Should anything not be to your liking, it would be our pleasure to fix it for you,” she says somewhat nervously. 

“Should I expect something to not be perfect, then?” she asks. 

“No, your highness, not at all,” the young woman stutters. 

First lesson in ruthless leadership. 

“If anything is not up to standard, then I will hold you personably accountable for it. It seems only fair since you were the one to assure me that everything was perfect,” Azula says threateningly. 

“Of course, your highness,” the young woman says quietly, her gaze still fixed on the floor and still leaning into her bow. 

Azula walks past her and the other staff into her new room. It is much larger than her old one. It is luxurious, but unwelcoming. She cannot help but feel that the golden dragon head over the canopy glares down at her. She looks around the room and expects her brother to appear at any moment even though she knows that is an impossibility. She was expecting this to be a triumphant moment, the first time in her new room with the new title of heir apparent. However, the room unsettles her as it does to Mai and Ty Lee.  

“Azula,” Mai says nervously. “You don’t think your father will do to you what he did to Zuko, right?” 

Azula glares at Mai, unsure if she is angrier at the suggestion being made or her fear being confirmed. Her gaze falls to her hands, and she produces little flames. You should never rely on luck alone, Azula. “He will not have a reason to,” she says watching the flames dance. 

She forms her hands into fists extinguishing the flames. “Let’s go back, outside,” Azula says. “I should practice my bending.” She turns and leads them out of the room quickly. She does not want to think about Zuko, and how excited she was to see his punishment, and how scared she is now that her first line of defense is gone. 

That evening Azula prolongs her dinner as long as she can. 

“I believe it is time for you to retire, Azula,” her father says as he finishes his wine. He signals for the staff to bring him more. 

“May I stay up a while more?” she asks. He takes a drink of his wine. 

“Is there a reason why you are not tired, Azula?” he asks. 

“No,” she responds. 

“So then why are you trying to go against my command? Leave the table and retire for the evening so that I can finish my wine in peace,” he says, the slightest tone of aggression making his words feel like a threat to Azula. 

“May I be dismissed?” she whispers. 

“I believe I made it clear enough that you should leave the table and go to your new quarters,” he says menacingly. 

Azula is silent as she slides off her chair. She holds her hands in the shape of a little flame before bowing to her father. “Goodnight, father,” she says as she stands up. She waits a second expecting him to reply, but when she looks at him he just raises an eyebrow as if to ask why she is still in front of him. She turns on her heel and leaves the dining room.

 A short while later a servant has brushed her hair out and Azula dresses in her night clothes. She climbs into the bed. Its massive size swallows her. She keeps a candle lit on her bedside table, and with its light she stares at the embroidery on the canopy above her. She thinks of Zuko staring at the same golden threads as he tried to sleep as well. He always had a hard time sleeping. She remembers waking up to Zuko screaming in the middle of the night on multiple occasions. I would hate to have to be as harsh on you as I was with Zuko.  Now she understands why. Children are not supposed to be scared of their fathers like this. 

Azula does not sleep well that night. She cries wishing her mother were there to hold her. 

She does not sleep well until Zuko comes back to the palace after Ba Sing Se and she knows she has made herself safe for now.

[devilbat]

Revenge of the Nerd

Accountant!Tom Hiddleston x reader

Warning: fluff, Mention of blood, mention of violence, mention of being assaulted, Possibly a small mention of vampires..oh mention of nerds. 

@drakesfiance requested 6, 15, 42 with Tom. Hope you like it.. also made it a bit of a holiday one shot..

6 "Are you flirting with me?" "You finally noticed?"

15 "Is that blood?" ".....No?"

42. "I always thought vampires go, poof, when they get staked."

            It was the day of the big company holiday party. You had helped plan for the night's festivities from the decorations down to the caterers. You hoped tonight would go well. As with all plans, things had there ups and downs like there were only a few of your coworkers willing to help you on a Saturday morning. Who really wanted to come into work on their day off, if it wasn't to party. Kate from marketing, Jim from IT And Tom from accounting, ended up being the only ones that came through for you. Kate was one of your friends who had helped you land your job. Sure it wasn't anything glamorous you work as the assistant to the woman that ran the company.

Jim was a bit of a jerk but did anything for you. He was a flirt and tried to get into anyone's pants. If he weren't an arrogant ass and a horn dog, he would be attractive. Then there was Tom; he was devilishly handsome, with his blondish red hair. A sharp jawline that always was graced with a five o'clock shadow. Piercing blue eyes that could steal your soul if you weren't careful. And a true Gentlemen, even with his rather shy demeanor, he always kept to himself. He never talked to anyone beside you. Though you thought it was because you were always down in accounting for your boss, it was his only reason why he spoke with you.

But you were happy he came to help, even if you were the one to wrangle him into it. The batting of your eyes and the pouting of your lips. Pleading for him to help. Though he told you he wasn't going to make any promises. You were giddy when he was the first one waiting for you in the banquet, the room the posh hotel. It had surprised you to see him out of his typical button-down shirts, pocket protector, thick rim glasses, and blue trousers. It was a beautiful sight to see him in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Not that him being a suit wasn't at all lovely.

You were on the ladder hanging Mistletoe up, well maybe you could get try and get the mysterious man that was Tom under it. You couldn't help but think of him all the time. You practically daydreamed about him at work and the unbelievable, not safe for work thing you wanted to do to him. Your mind wandered while on the ladder when you saw him reach up, his arm extended, hanging garland on the top of the door his shirt riding up, giving you a glimpse of pale skin and a bit of a very happy, happy tail. Making you lick your lips, and before you knew it, you found yourself tumbling off the ladder. Shielding yourself from hitting the ground, it never came. In fact, you never once felt that hard hit of the floor greeting your body. Opening your eyes, you found yourself in the arms of Tom.

"Are you all right?" His velvet-smooth accent rang through your ears. Making you gasp every time he spoke. His grasp was tightly holding onto you. Your cheek pressed into his chest. That fact you were this close to him, that what you felt pressed against you was solid lean rock. His sent was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Like warm spice on a cold night, with hints of coffee from this morning and something earthy like being in the Forest after the first rainfall.

"Um, y-yeah." You stammered, Tom slowly set you down. His arm still wrapped around your midsection. "How did you get to me so fast?"

"Eheheh, quick reflexes." he shrugged his lips pulled into a small. As he moved his arm from you once your feet were stable. "You should be more careful. I wouldn't want you to get hurt on the day of your party."

"Yeah." You shyly agreed, wishing you weren't so flabbergasted around this man.

----

You worried your bottom lip as you arrived at the party that night. You hoped Tom would show, he never came to any of the company events. You had told him after everyone left that you wished to see him there. The dress you chose was a beautiful form-fitting sequin blue coming down mid-thigh, sparkling black tights molded to your legs like a second skin. Though when you had to rush toward the build regretting the fact you didn't grab a coat and something longer. But then again, you didn't think you would have had to walk far either. Oh, first world problems when you're running late. You heel-clicked along as you made it to the elevator shivering.

You could hear the party was in full swing before the doors even opened. Smiling to yourself when you walked in. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. You found your boss and her wife talking with a few of the board members.

"Ah, there she is, y/n." Your boss called you over. Pulling you to her side when you reached them. "This girl is the one responsible for pulling this all together." Your boss praised you, making you blush. "Y/n, this is Stan, my father's former partner.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You hummed, shanking the older gentleman's hand.

"You young lady have been doing a wonder here." Stan acknowledged. ”Keeping this one on time. She was always late, even to her own wedding." He grins wide, and your boss scoffed. Her wife, Chanel, only nodded in agreement.

"Anyways, y/n darling, you remember my wife, Chanel." Turning your attention back to your boss. As Chanel gave you a tight hug.

"Of course." You smile, forgetting she was a hugger. And always bubbly but a sweet person.

"And where’s your date, dear?" Chanel beamed before releasing you.

"Um, I um." You stammered. You didn't think you would be asked this question. Everyone, even Stan, looked at you. You felt like a bunny in a wolf's den. Not until you felt a strong arm wrapped around your waist. You yelped about to kick whoever it was until they spoke.

             "Sorry I'm late, darling. Trying to finding parking was atrocious." Tom's smooth voice spoke up. And you were once more engulfed in that earthy spice. Tom's tall frame leaned in, pressing a light kiss on top of your head. "Fallow, my lead love." He whispered into your ear. You tried to keep yourself calm. Your heart rate speeds up, ready to burst any second. You watched everyone reaction Chanel squealed, clapping her hands together.

          "That's my boy." Stan seemed to smirk, patting Tom on the shoulder. Your boss, on the other hand, just raised her eyebrow at Tom. Her face set, not wavering as she looked at him.

          "Eheh, now if you would Excuse us, this one owes me a dance." Tom cooed as his hand moved to the small of your back ushering you away.

           "Um, What was that all about?" You inquired, looking up at the man, taking a good look at him. He was in a stunningly fitted tuxedo, black bowtie tied tightly around his neck. His blue eyes, the ones that usually hide behind thick frames, where freed from them. His sharp jaw cleaned from stubble. Your jaw may have hit the floor.

          "You looked like you desired a way out." He chuckled as he moved you with the rhythm of the music.

         "And what am I to say to my boss Monday when this fairytale ends cinderella?" You quipped. Not once did you notice where he was leading you to as he glided across the dance floor. Tom's slender fingers hooked under your chin, making you look up. His lips brushed against yours far too quickly for you to really register.

"You planned that, didn't you." Your eyes widened when you spotted the mistletoe hanging above your head, the same one you almost fell from.

"Hey, I might turn into a pumpkin at midnight, so I might as well take this as the perfect opportunity." He smirked.

"Are you flirting with me?" You looked into those blue eyes of his.

  "You finally noticed?" He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. He's shy, quiet, and nerdy demeanor was rather adorable.

---

The night went on, staying close to your "date." Tom insisted on walking you to your car, fresh snow dusted the ground. Tom had insisted that you wear his coat.

That’s when it all happened all to fast. The guy came out of know where grabbing you out of Tom's arms. You screamed, trying to fight him off of you as he pulled you into the ally. The other guy making sure Tom wouldn't follow, hit Tom in the head with a blunt object. The other man followed the one that held you tightly. Once he reached you, his hand grabbed ahold of your jaw harshly.

"Stop your screaming, and you might make it out of this without much more than a good fuck." The man snarled. Tears streamed down your face as you called once more for Tom. Unfortunately, giving you a sharp smack across the face. "I said shut up, you ungrateful whore."

Before he could do anything further, he was ripped from you and tossed at a high rate of speed. The man holding you by the throat growled. Pushing you to the floor as he attacked your savior. Both men that attacked you came at the new man. You watch in horror. Soon you recognized who stepped in to save you.

"Tom, watch out." You screamed as the other man came behind him. "No!" shrieking when Tom's assailant impaled Tom with the object in his hands.

The growling of a wild wounded animal came deep from Tom, making you jump. Tom turned around his eye, growling a snarl along his lips, showing two long sharp canines. Your eyes widened in horror. Tom ripped the man apart. The other man didn't get very far before Tom tore into him, drinking from his throat. Tom turned towards you, approaching you with caution.

"Darling are, are you all right?" He choked out, unsure what your reaction would be. You should be scared fleeing for your life. But somehow you knew he wouldn't hurt you. If he was, he would have done it by now, right?

"Is that blood?" You squeaked out, feeling a bit woozy. Tom quickly wiped the blood from his mouth.

  ".....No?" He smiled, shyly his fangs peeking out between his lips. His hand reached out for you. "I won't harm you." He tried to reassure you. Your shaking hand took his. "Are you hurt?" His eyes were scanning you for any injuries. His free hand brushed against your now lightly purple cheek. You winced, giving him his answer. He looked back at the men he slaughtered. Your eyes followed him. You gasped at the sight. Tom quickly turned you away.

"Tom?" he hummed in response, looking down at you. "I always thought vampires go, poof, when they get staked." You inquired. Tom stopped his mouth gaped.

          "I'm not what movies make us out to be. That and I’ve lived a very long life. I do believe it was when the middle ages were Popular. Before Vlad, the Impaler. Before." Tom shrugged like it was nothing.

         "Okay, okay, I get it your as old as a dinosaur!" You teased.

         "Hey, now I'm not that old." Tom huffed.

          "You're really do have this whole Clark Kent thing going on. But I got to ask, why did you stop caring about fashion in like 1980? You have this poindexter, revenge of the nerd's thing going on at work."

            "Hey, now I liked that movie." Tom grumbling. "I have to look inconspicuous, not every day you look as good as I do at six hundred years."

           "Okay, Yoda. So like why are you. I'm-you know." You started nervously playing with the hem of Tom's coat.

           "Why what?" Tom smiled. You were rather cute when you were nervous.

            "Taking an interest in me. It's not like I'm a Secret vampire during the night and mild-mannered accountant during the day! Why, accountant?" You started Squirreling on him again, going from one subject to the next.

        “Slow down, darling. How about this, I'll tell you everything at dinner tomorrow night?" He suggested.

           "I'm not on the menu, right?" Quickly looking up at him.

            “As tantalizing of a morsel, that you are. No, well, not in the way you're thinking, at least." Tom wiggled his eyebrows.

          "Oh my God, perv." You smack Tom in the chest playfully.

           "Come on, let's get you home." he pulled you into his side. Heading back the direction you were going.

           ”Do I have to invite you in? Wait, what about the sun? Cause I mean, you do have a day job. Oh, and crosses? Garlic?" You chattered on. You heard Tom groan.

permanent tags: @kitkatkl @lokilvrr @instantnoodlese @drakesfiance @meyoko10 @miraclesoflove @madleiine, @teageowen @scorpionchild81 @redlipsinkorea @mintzxi @it-jinxed-us @heylals

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[sebsallowapologist]

Pothos: 3

Thank you to everyone who continues to read and share what they think! Everyone enjoying it really makes me want to write more and more. 

Enjoy!

***

“So should I leave?” He asks and the blood drains out of my face. Surely I wasn’t strong enough to will him back if he decided to really leave again. “Why?” I choke out and the teasing smile stays plastered on his face, but behind the eyes he looks tortured, like he’s in pain.

“Traditionally a gentleman comes by to pick up his date for dinner, leaving her time to get ready. If I'm not mistaken, I am pretty rusty at this. Perhaps times have changed?” He asks and I bite my lip. “I don’t go on many dates, so I wouldn’t know. And we have so much catching up to do and it’s still early.” I breathe and he nods, leaning back in my dining room chair. How was my $12 Ikea plastic chair keeping this Greek god up?

“You’re right, we do have lots to talk about. So do you enjoy your job?” He asks with a smile and I shake my head. “You don’t?”

“No, I do. But don’t you think I deserve to go first, questions wise?” I ask and Edward’s lips become a tight line. “Ah. Yes, what are you curious about?”

“What have you been doing the past... seven years?” I asked. “Where did you go when you left?”

“I haven’t settled down anywhere. I spent some time in the South, then South America. All over.” He explains and I sigh, not the answer I was looking for. “What were you doing in all those places? Anything important?” I ask, when I really want to know if whatever he was doing was worth ripping me to shreds.

He doesn’t answer and I roll my eyes, moving to stand up from the table. I didn’t wait 7 years to be lied to, or have things hidden from me. “No. Don’t.” He says and lighty places his cool hand on top of mine. It feels like fire ran up my arm and I was waiting for a burn that didn’t come.

I sit back in my chair and he takes my hand in his, playing with my fingers, refusing to look up at me. “I was hunting- not for food but- I was hunting Victoria.”

“Victoria? As in James’ Victoria?” I ask and he nods, turning my hand over to look at the scar that James gave me, the scar I’d become so attached to. Proof of a world that had disappeared. “She did not take it well when I had to kill James, I read that in her mind and I was never sure- but I had to be certain she wasn’t coming after you.”

“Did you find her?” I ask and he shakes his head, chuckling. “Turns out I am a horrible tracker.” I doubt that. He wasn’t horrible at anything.

“So where is Carlisle? And Esme? Were they with you?” I ask and he shakes his head no, still playing with my fingers. “They’re in New York, upstate but close enough to the city for Carlisle to work at a major hospital. He loves the intensity. Esme loves the museums and Alice is going to FID.” He smiles and I nod. Yes. The forever young repeating high school and college over and over and over again.

“They miss you.” He tells me and I nod sadly, “I miss them too.” I missed being 17, I missed my old life with all of them in it. I missed being taken care of. “Why are you sad? Is your head alright?” He asks and I nod. “Yeah- Yeah I’m just- reminiscing I guess.” I sigh and finish my water.

“May I ask you some questions now?”

“Sure.” I give in, I was too overwhelmed. I couldn’t figure out which question I wanted to ask next.

“Why Los Angeles? Because it’s warm?” He asks and I nod. “Yeah, warm. Big city. I like the distractions.” I answer and he nods. “Do you like your job?” He asks and I blush. It was like him asking if I liked his gift.

“I like my job. Well I like writing, answering to people isn’t as fun but it pays the bills and I could be doing a lot worse.” I smile and he laughs a little. “My parents get your magazine sent to the house. They’re very proud of you.”

My breath catches in my throat. “They are?” Didn’t they know they’re the ones that bought me the job, bought my education too.

“Of course.” He breaths, trying to sound as soothing as possible. “Aren’t Charlie and Renee?” He asks and I nod. “Yeah of course they just don’t- know.” Don’t know that I never earned that job- never earned anything I’ve had myself.

“I’m proud of you too.” He says and I scoff a little, my eyes pricking with tears. “Don’t cry.” He begs and stands up from the table very slowly. He grabs my side and lifts me off the chair, giving me all the time in the world to tell him no as he sets me in his lap.

It’s cold and hard, and it should be uncomfortable, but he molds his body around mine to fit me perfectly. “Why does that make you sad?”

A lot of reasons, I was sad because until today I guess that he never thought about me, or thought about me much. I was sad because he didn’t seem to realize that his gifts, the things that made me a successful person, brought me so much pain. Pain in that I never earned them. Guilt because I was taking them from someone who so badly deserved it.

“I was really hoping that something had changed, and that I’d be able to read your mind now. I should have known better.” He smiles and I laugh a little, it’s horse and broken. “Thank god you can’t read my mind.” I smile and he smiles back at me, “I do wish you’d tell me what you’re thinking.” He begs and I bite my lip.

If he knew how ungrateful I was for what he’d done for me- he’d leave again. Who wouldn’t?

“Tell me what you’re thinking first.” That would buy me enough time to think of something else to say.

“What I’m thinking? Well I’m thinking a lot. I haven’t felt this whole in years- so I’m celebrating that. You’ve somehow gotten more beautiful. I didn’t know that was possible.” He smiles and I feel the blood rush to my face. “Ah- even more so. You might be out of my league now.” he smiles and brushes his hand over my cheek. “I got old.” I mumble and he shakes his head.

“You’re 25, that is very far from old.”

“I’m older than Carlisle.” I remind him and Edward rolls his eyes. “No you’re not.”

I laugh a little and use some courage to brush his hair out of his face. “Now what are you thinking?”

“I’m just overwhelmed.” I sigh, which wasn’t a lie. “I’m so- I haven’t been this happy in a very long time. But I’m scared, I'm hurt. I’m a little mad. But I don’t even know if this is all real. It’s truly a lot for my little human brain.” I joke. I catch another cringe. God I hated seeing him so hurt over what’s become of me.

“Would you like to yell at me? Perhaps beat me up a little?” He asks, trying to keep it light.

“Ha! Well I have been taking boxing lessons.” I tell him and he looks surprised. “You have?”

“Mmhm. Charlie got real nervous when I went to UCLA and he begged. I did it to make him happy but I figured out that I really like punching things.” I smile.

Turns out, this is the funniest thing that Edward’s ever heard. He lets out a bellowing laugh and holds me tight as he curls over a little. “What!?” I ask and he shakes his head, trying to stop laughing. “It’s just- I can’t picture it.”

“Hey!” I huff a little offended. “I don’t have super human strength, excuse me, but I could hold my own.”

“I’d like to see that.” Edward smiles. I giggle a little at him. That settles and he taps my outer thigh with his hand. “So what would you like to eat tonight?”

“There's this Taco place that's really good around the block.” I tell him and he shakes his head. “No, I would like to take you somewhere nice. Alice sent me here with a suit. I think I have to use it.”

I roll my eyes at my former best friend. Sent him with a suit. Stupid “Well it’s Saturday. Anywhere good is going to be booked up.” I tell him and he shakes his head. “That's not a problem, where would you like to eat?”

Oh he thinks he can just take me anywhere? This was LA this wasn’t Forks. He couldn’t possibly just get a table wherever. “The Nice Guy.” I smile. A little challenge.

“Wonderful. What type of food is that?”

“Italian.” I laugh and he smiles. “Everything comes full circle doesn’t it?” It really did. “I should be going, I have to go get that suit and I should give my date time to get ready.”

My color leaves my face again. “You don’t have to do that. You can stay.”

“Bella.” He breathes and stands us up, placing his hand on my face. “I promise I’m coming back.”

“What if you don’t?” I ask. Because, god. What if this was just a wellness check? I couldn’t handle that. “Bella.” He makes my name sound like honey. “I came back because I couldn’t live another day without you in my life. I promise I am coming back.”

I guess if he did he did- and if he didn’t he didn’t- and I was going to have to deal with it either way. “Alright.” I sigh. He leans forward and places his cool lips on my forehead. “I’ll be back at 8:00, my Bella.” And just like that, he’s gone.

***

If Edward was going to come back, I was going to give him something that made him want to keep coming back. I was no longer the pubescent teenage girl I was when I knew him. I was older now, for better or for worse. I had a few gray hairs that most humans couldn’t see- but I’m sure he saw them, and I had a small wrinkle on the right side of my mouth.  

But I had curves now, and I finally knew how to dress. Alice would be so proud at my small but well thought out closet. I got rid of the idea that dressing nicely and wearing make up was a sign of weakness and had fun with it.

I had one nice dress- my close the deal dress. Black with thin straps, it went to just above my knees but it hugged every curve I had. I kept the hair and make up simple, doing what I knew how, curl my hair and do some basic make up. Tonight wasn’t the night to try something new.

At 7:45 there was a knock at my door and my heart jumped into my throat. Oh thank god. I slip my black heels on. “Coming!” I rush to the door, throwing it open without bothering to look at the peephole. The anxiety I’d felt since he left melts away and I’m just standing in awe of him, of all his glory as he stands in my doorway holding a dozen roses.

“I said you didn’t have to get me flowers.” I laugh and he shakes his head. “I’m speechless.” He breathes and I smile. “Speechless, huh?” Never heard him speechless before, that's for damn sure.

“You look-” He just blinks. “There's not a word in any language I know that properly describes how you look.” he says and I shrug. “Good I hope?”

He scoffs, “Good doesn’t even begin to describe it.” I blush and take the flowers from him, walking to my kitchen to put them in some water.

Once I’m done with that I grab my phone and my purse and smile. “Should I call an uber?” I ask and he shakes his head, “I came prepared.” I hold my hands up in defeat. “Alright, let’s go to The Nice Guy with no reservation.” I tease.

“We have a reservation.”

“You’re- wild.” I laugh and follow him out the door. I turn around to lock up and when I look back up Edward’s standing on the curb, holding the door open to a very fancy car. “You know this is a city, people have eyes around here.” I warn and walk to the car. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiles and holds out his hand to help me into the car.

An Aston Martin. Wow. He’s in the driver’s seat before I can finish a thought about the impressive car.

I didn’t forget what an insane drive Edward was, but I think my memories had dulled the intensity of it. We weaved in and out of cars on the busy street and I start to rethink honking at every douchebag who’d ever cut me off in an expensive car. Were they vampires too or just stupid humans?

I grab the door and Edward laughs a little. “I forgot you drive like we’re 30 minutes late for something.” I breathe and he smiles. “We’re not late, I just don’t like wasting time.”

“Wasting time with things like speed limits and red lights. Got it.” I breathe and he chuckles, “You’re so funny.”I want to tell him to look at the road but I know it would fall on deaf ears.

We make it to the valet at the restaurant and the man opens the door for me while Edward walks around the car at a human pace. He walks up to the hostess and smiles. “Cullen.” He tells her and she nods, looking him up and down. I was having insane flashbacks, but at least this time I knew I was hotter than the hostess at the front stand. So at least we were off to a better start self-esteem wise.

She leads us to a table near the back and Edward makes a show about pulling my chair out for me. I had only been on a few dates in my life, but of course Edward blew them all out of the water. He picks up the menu and I giggle a little bit, “What?” He asks and I shake my head. “Nothing. What looks good?” I ask and he shrugs. “I was looking over the wine list, what were you thinking about ordering for your meal? We can get a bottle that pairs well.”

“We do not need to order a bottle of wine.” I laugh. “I can order a glass.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like to get fall down drunk when I go on dates with an ex-boyfriend, and I assume you won’t be drinking with me.” I smile and he nods. “A glass or two it is.” He smiles “You know I’ve been drunk before.” He smiles, proud of himself and I gasp, “Edward Cullen? Drunk?”

“Yes. My seventeenth birthday I stole some of my father’s whiskey. I can’t say I remember much else.” He chuckles and I smile. “I can’t picture it.” I shake my head and he nods. “Did you smoke pot in the 70s too?” I ask and he shakes his head no with a laugh.

I liked keeping it light, we had so much to talk about but I knew all the heavy topics were going to do nothing but hurt me, so while I could I was going to stay in the light.

The waitress comes by and asks for our order. “I’ll take the chicken with a glass of the beaujolais.” I smile and hand her my menu. “I will do the mushroom ravioli with a glass of the same.” He says with a smirk in my direction and she nods, writing it down, taking our menus.

“Aren’t you supposed to drink white wine with chicken?” He asks and I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to drink blood?” I counter and he nods with pursed lips. “Touché, but the pasta is for you, I couldn’t not order something, it would be rude.”

“So rude.” I tease and he chuckles a little.

[vintage-story-time]

Family Games by Ray Todd

Chapter 14

Glynn swallowed some whiskey and fought down a cough. The stuff burned and

tasted crappy, but he figured he needed it, or something to jack up his nerve.

No matter what his sister said, he was still kind of edgy about his dad. But

more than anything else, he wanted to be part of the upcoming action.

He and his old man, fucking mom and Lorena; Father and son, screwing mother and

daughter -- it was so farout that Glynn's mouth went dry and his heart beat

faster at the idea. Sis said that the old man wasn't jealous because Glynn had

put the meat to mom's cunt, that he was made horny by the sight. Well, he was no

hornier than Glynn, thinking about watching his father's shaft work all greasy

and huge, in the hairy gripping of his mom's pussy.

And Lorena, she had to be turned on by it all, sexy as she was normally. Then

what about his mother? She was going along with all this willingly, even now

getting herself all sweet smelling and clean to make herself presentable to her

husband. They hadn't screwed in several months, Glynn remembered, and should be

eager as he had been, getting his first piece of ass from his sister.

The bathroom door opened and his mother came out; there was a white towel across

her svelte hips, and her heavy breasts bobbed enticingly, her long, lovely legs

flashed sleek and smooth as she walked to the dressing table and sat down before

the mirror. When she raised her arms to brush her flowing black hair, her tits

stood out with long, dark nipples.

"You're very beautiful," he said, coming over to stand behind her. Seeing both

their reflections in the mirror, he felt funny, since they were both naked,

except for that towel across her lap and hiding her alluring pussy from view.

"You're beautiful, too," she said, smiling. "I feel like a school girl getting

ready for her first big date, or like a bride on her wedding night. Except I'm

lucky enough to have two grooms."

The whiskey burned in his belly, and he didn't seem as uptight now, watching her

and hearing her husky voice classify him right in there with his father. "How

are we going to go about it, mom?"

The brush hissed in her perfumed hair, and her tits jiggled with a softly

beguiling resilience. "I really don't know, lover. There's no protocol for this

sort of thing, is there? Tell me, Glynn, what would you like to do?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, standing so close that he

could smell the flowery odors of her hair. "Well, Lorena said dad was turned on

by seeing you and me screwing like we were when she opened the door. I thought I

could be with you first, after they come in. I mean, I'd like to put my cock to

my mom's lovely pussy in front of them, let them see how much we love each

other, and how well we fuck together."

She finished with her hair and began to apply makeup, brushing dark stuff on her

eyelashes. "That ought to make your father's big thing stand out. But didn't you

say that you wanted to screw me right after he did, so you could feel his semen

all hot and slidy in my cunt?"

Glynn shivered and ran one finger tenderly along his mother's bare shoulder,

feeling the impossible smoothness of her unflawed skin, her radiant warmth.

"Yeah, I do. So I won't fuck you all the way. I just want him to watch you lift

your legs and wrap me between them while your gorgeous ass wiggles back and

forth and my prick slips back and forth in you. I want my daddy to see that I

can fuck you just as good as he can, even if he has got a bigger cock. He can

see how you love my prick, how you grind on it and listen to you moan. Maybe you

can tell him how it feels inside your cunt."

Her smile widened, and her eyes met his in the mirror. "That's a sexy idea,

describing the sensations of my son's hard young cock to my husband. It should

run him right up the wall."

"He can put it to Lorena, if he wants to," Glynn went on. "But not until he

comes. That ought to go in you, mom. When I see that he's coming, then I'll come

over and wait to get my prick back in you while you're still hot and squirming."

She said throatily, "We'll do it, lover; it's a wonderful way to start the

evening, and besides, I'm just as anxious to see your father squeeze all that

huge meat of his into his daughter's small box. Your sister must really love

prick, to take so much of it"

"Oh, she does," he said. "She's very much like you, mom."

She stood up and tuned around. "They might be awhile yet. Do you think it would

spoil anything if we did some screwing right now? Would you have plenty left for

later?"

Glynn swallowed, staring at the proximity of her mounded tits, at the nipples

aimed like twin blunt spears at his face. "Sure; I can go all night, with you."

"Then come over here," she said. "There's something I always wanted to do, and

this is just the right time for it. Because your father's prick is so big, and

because he was always kind of standoffish about any sort of deviation, I never

even tried it with him. But now I'd like you to put it up me from the back,

lover. You have a nice, slim cock that should fit all right."

She climbed up on the bed and put the upper part of her body flat against the

sheet, mashing her tits down. Her lustrous ass poked up, and her thighs were

pushed apart. Glynn stared and whispered hoarsely, "You mean to fuck you in the

ass?"

"Exactly, darling. If you play with my pussy, you can get your fingers slippery,

and rub them over your sweet cock for some extra lubrication. Then shove it into

my ass very gently, very slowly."

Heart pounding, Glynn got up behind her and fumbled into the hairy, damp nest of

her cunt, running his fingers up and down the soft labia. Working two fingers

into the hot gash, he probed with them until they felt slimy, then brought them

out to rub over the head of his excited prick and down its hard shaft.

Carefully then, he steered the shiny head into the tiny ring surrounded by wiry

black hairs, pressed its greased tip to the little puckered hole between the

wonderfully molded cheeks. He pushed it cautiously, and felt the ring give

slightly as a ripple of bliss moved through his taut body.

The anus stretched some more at his pressure, and he held to his shaft, urging

it into that heretofore untouched hole so he could fuck his adorable mother

where she had never been fucked before. She hiked her ass back at him, rolled it

gently, and helped the aching head of his cock penetrate. It inched inside the

small ring, pushed slowly into the amazingly elastic tube, and he looked down to

see the head vanishing inside her body.

She was very hot and tight inside, tighter than Jean's little pussy, narrower

than his sister's cunt. Softness clung to his rod as it moved inside, gripped

his cock from the tip of the head down to the heavy root with a totally

different feeling than her pussy had given to it.

Glynn panted and shoved it on home; his balls swung against the crisp, curly

hairs of his mother's pussy from behind, and his hands stroked over her back,

her cheeks, down around to feel the satin planes of her belly and the upper

reaches of her humid cunt. Pulling back slowly, he felt her wiggle on his rod.

"Oh darling boy! You've got it all the way in, all the way up my ass. I love it,

love it -- so strange -- stuffing me full, making me so hot -- oh, put your hand

on my pussy, dear. Right there -- yes, yes!"

He stroked her as she humped her snatch against his hand, fed his oily shaft in

and out of the narrow hot tubing, knowing he couldn't keep this up for long,

feeling the good sensations already threatening to leap up from his balls.

She gasped: "Glynn -- Glynn!" and he knew it was all right to let it go, that

she was coming quickly, too. He fed the meat to her tight well with stronger

thrusts, burying the head deep within her body, raking his fingernails over her

pussy, her belly, feeling her mound jump and vibrate against his palm as she

reached climax.

The head of his prick flexed, trembled, and a heavy gout of semen spat from it,

a torrent of come that washed her tube and bathed his shaft with the fiery

liquid. They shuddered together, panting and moaning, until the hurricane of

their emotions subsided and his balls stopped leaping upward.

He had fucked his mom in the ass; he had taken that cherry, been the first in

there, and she had gone freakish over the screwing. There would be plenty more

like it, he thought, and got the wild idea of maybe putting it to her from the

back while his old man stuck it to her in front. That way, she would really be

filled with pricks.

She eased forward, and his slippery cock worked out of the tight hold her ass

had on it. There was only a little seepage of white stuff to hang like little

pearls upon her pussy hair. Glynn sat back, catching his breath and holding his

greasy rod.

"That -- that was fantastic," his mother breathed. "It was all I hoped it would

be, and more. Now I've had you in all ways, lover -- pussy and mouth and ass."

Awkwardly, he climbed down off the bed and went to the bottle of liquor to drink

sparingly from its neck and make a face. "I hope they give us a few minutes

more."

She came to her feet and went into the bathroom to tidy up. Never, he thought,

would there be another woman like her. If he should get married some day, his

wife had better be at least half the good fucking his mother was. His sister was

a great lay, too, so that meant any girl he married would have to be extra

special in that department.

Putting the bourbon bottle down, he touched his cock and thought that his future

wife would just have to move in with the family and become a part of it. His

father would enjoy getting some fresh cunt from her, and with three chicks --

four, if Jean Marks was still around -- he and the old man could really have a

ball. He could see himself, bringing home his bride and telling his dad, okay --

you can fuck her now.

He sat down on the bed again, hearing water run in the bathroom sink where his

mother was cleaning herself up. Lorena would probably get married some day, too.

Maybe quicker than he would, since she was older. She'd have to clue in her

husband about the family before hand, though. Boy, he thought -- the whole bunch

of them ready to fuck at a minute's notice; husbands and wives and blood

relatives. He wished now that he had a couple of other sisters, younger ones

that he and his father could teach to screw.

His mother came back into the room, high color in her cheeks, wearing the towel

around her hips again. He said, "You think I ought to put anything on?"

She shook her head. "I'm just a little embarrassed at your father seeing me

naked with our son. I'll get over it before long."

"I used to worry about you seeing me with a hard on," he said. "I'd hide it best

I could, but whenever I got to thinking too much about you, about the remote

possibility of getting into your elegant pussy, I'd have to run upstairs. I sure

jacked off a lot of times."

She sat on the edge of the bed, holding out a water glass. "Pour me some nerve,

lover? What a waste that was, you masturbating and me being so lonely. All that

time, we could have been fucking. But we'll make up for the missed chances,

darling. We have years and years stretching out ahead of us. Will you still want

to screw your mother when she's a white-haired little old lady?"

He splashed whiskey into the glass. "You bet; I was just thinking about bringing

my wife home -- the girl I'll marry some day, and setting her up for dad to lay.

I'll never get tired of your pussy, mom. I love you too much."

"You're a fine boy," she said. "A nice guy and a wonderful lover, but I promise

not to be jealous over the other girls that get to feel your lovely, hard prick.

I'll just remember that I taught you much of what you know sexually, and your

sister showed you the rest -- or is that twisted around? I'm a little nervous,

dear."

He came over and stroked her hair. "Don't be, mom. It's going to be terrific for

all of us, I'm sure. Suppose you lie back and let me play with you while we wait

for them? When dad and sis come in, we'll be ready to start fucking."

She stretched out on the bed, the hotly sensual look on her face now, her lips

red and damp. "Take off this damned towel, please. And I hear them coming down

the hall."

[jemstone625]

Shield | Dabi x Oc Chapter One --------------------------------------------

The door was scratched and dented with chipped brown spots. The brass colored lock and matching door knob dulled with age and neglect. Dabi gave no thought as it squealed and groaned when he pushed it open, not till the apartment before him revealed itself. His feet stuck outside the threshold, and his eyes widened a fraction as they shifted through the murk. Dabi did not like being caught off guard, and at the moment he most certainly didn’t want to deal with worthless lower lifeforms who had forgotten to lock their front door.

The arrival of winter and its icy serenade of coolness, alongside with the pain of hunger and the thirst for sleep, had left Dabi in a very low mood. One that hadn’t quite escalated into being fowl, but he knew it was teetering on the edge of descending into just that. All it would take was some pointless villain or thug trying to jump him for Dabi to burn the whole building to the ground. Instead of his hands flickering blue to light the path before him Dabi sniffed at the warm air washing over him in thick waves. Entwined in the building’s natural pungent odor of damp moldy wood was the faintest trace of cinnamon. 

It was this oddity that had his knees bending and Dabi crossing through the doorway. He didn’t mind crashing into another’s home. He doubted they would even mind if they had left their front door unlocked, and extra security wasn’t something he bothered worrying about -- not in this part of town. If someone screamed often more than not those nearby looked the other way. Only the heroes would investigate and they rarely came this far unless on a mission or patrolling, and their activity decreased drastically at night.

Closing the door behind him, to keep the warmth locked inside the small flat, electric neon hues flickered about as they studied the shadows for movement. Looking for an indicator that would expose the owner of this hovel, but Dabi saw and heard nothing. Only ugly and baron peeling pale purple walls with cracks running down them greeted him.

Scared and calloused hands trailed along the wall as he sauntered his way through the home. Dabi’s footsteps echoed on the wooden floor boards. His mind though had him following the sweet, spicy-hot, fragrance until he found himself standing alone in a living room. On one of the counters sat a lit candle. It looked new. To the left, high above on the shelf connected to the only window in the room, sat a half dead plant. The orange pot it occupied was obviously too small for the large leafed shrub.

A grin broke out across Dabi’s face, stretching the staples till his flesh stung, as he soaked in the mirthful garden he had accidently stumbled upon. What luck that some sucker had just left their front door unlocked for him.

‘Idiot.’ Dabi chastised as he focused on a poorly white painted door he could see down another short hallway. It looked to have been left ajar. Which to him was only an eager usher to have him travel over and give his whole hearted thanks to the tenant.

Pulling down his hood Dabi’s hands flickered with his flames. For the most part the rundown old building was empty, but the few that occupied the place where nothing but lowlife wannabe thugs or drug addicts. It was why he was squatting in one of the many vacant flats. The likelihood of being caught was low.

Still he should give his thanks and greetings to the tenant. It would only be proper of him. Dabi wouldn’t want to come off as rude when later they found him sleeping on their couch.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yua huffed. Today had been sheer hell, and it had all begun the moment her alarm began to bleep at five-thirty. The milk had soured, there was no water because she had forgotten to pay the bill, and just as she had been leaving the lock on the front door decided it was time to become unattached to half rotten planks of wood. Yua had gone to slide the lock over and the whole contraption had just popped off into her hand. Half of it bouncing across wooden floor boards and the other half bent in an awkward direction in her hand. 

If there had been a second to spare Yua might just have screamed in frustration, but instead she plopped Kayda down before rushing about in a frenzy to hide anything of value. She cursed and swore in colorful words as she shoved objects beneath the loose floorboards under her bed and in the space above the tiles in the bathroom.

‘The day is still young.’ Was what she had told herself as Yua dropped her sister off with the sitter. A broken lock on their home wasn’t the worst thing to happen to them, and it could easily be fixed. Her day though didn’t get better as the hours ticked by. During her shift at the diner she had been called in to talk with her manager. Who notified her that due to budget costs she was going to be released. She had known a few of the employees would be leaving but that still didn’t help when she had discovered that she was one of them. Though Yua had a hunch that the decision had been heavily influenced by her dumping a steaming cup of coffee on the crotch of one of their customers, not to mention she had golden laced things when she had hit the creep repeatedly with one of the trays they used to bring out the food. Yua didn’t regret what she had done. The purple tinted man deserved what he had gotten. Still, it stung that her reckless actions had cost her this job. 

“I understand.” Finding another job that could fit with her busy schedule was going to be difficult. Yua didn���t let her employer see the stress steadily growing and instead she scraped on a smile before bowing deeply. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

At least she had been able to finish the day in dignity before fleeing for her evening work in the red district as a club waitress. When all was said and done and her day had finally come to an end it was two hours past midnight, and Yua still had to make a pit stop to get a new lock for her apartments front door. By the time she had picked up Kayda the night had long since been enveloped in a blanket of velvet darkness and streaked white from snow. The only light being casted was from the street lamps.

Yua hated winter. She hated the cold, almost as much as she hated mushrooms and saggy pants. There was nothing like worrying if your fingers would fall off first or if your nose would. Nothing like having to scurry home only in the same short skirt, nylon tights, and tight top she had worn at the club because someone had stolen her jeans and heavy coat. 

Walking home in the dark was not new for Yua, but doing so with her arms full and a small bundle of life attached to her hip left Yua on edge. Her feet traveled as swiftly as possible, as she kept her eyes peeled and her ears alert for any signs of trouble. It was unusual, and rare, when Kayda’s sitter couldn’t make it to the flat. The last three days had been that way. Yua getting ready in the morning before racing to drop her little sister off with an elderly lady she trusted.

Yua would have much rather waited to go shopping until tomorrow. She would have been free tomorrow morning until late afternoon now without her primary day job, but the idea of sleeping in her flat while the lock on the front door was broken didn’t settle well with her. Yua hated where they stayed, but it was the only place she could find within her budget. She hated that the man on the first level always sat outside his door smoking and watching. She hated that there was mold in the hallways. She hated that she could only fall asleep with one of the kitchen knives tucked between her bed and the box of springs.

She had promised herself and Kayda that one day, one of these days, they would leave the horrid hole they were trapped in. That Yua would give her sister the life she deserved and not the slums they were stuck in.

Shivering uncontrollably, Yua sped up her pace as their home came into view. Bitterly cold and humid -- what an enchanting combination. Everything outside was coated in a heavy dusting of snow, and pulling open the metal doors left her hands tingling and throbbing painfully. The dim lit hallway that met the two sisters was just as cold and unforgiving as it was outside. Yua could see her breath materializing with each exhale, just as she could feel the small body clinging to her side shivering despite the thick winter apparel adoring the child.

Climbing four flights of stairs Yua finally came to a stop. With Kayda balanced on one hip and grocery bags dangling off her other arm Yua struggled as she used her foot to harshly push open the front door.

“Hold on will you.” Yua chattered to the wiggling toddler as she flicked on the lights. Jumbled words fell from the girl’s mouth as she quickly made her way to the ground. Yua was only able to pick out the words duck and bubbles before the dark haired three year old made a mad dash for the living room.

Yua couldn’t get her feet to move for a second as she basked in the heat swelling in her home. It felt so nice against her icy skin. Standing there with bags digging into the flesh of her arm though had her mind reeling and telling her to keep moving. So, she followed Kayda as the small girl wobbled to and fro. Her head pointed down to the ground in a firm glare. A challenge had been issued and Yua had no clue what it was, or how the floor had aggravated the toddler. 

Dismissing the child Yua instead took a turn for the kitchen. Bags were barely placed on the counter before she heard her sister babbling to herself down the hallway. Halfway through putting the items away Yua heard her sister cry out again, this time with a request that was still being warmed in the microwave.

“Coco!” Came Kayda’s small but demanding voice. “Coco!”

“It’s still warming up.” Yua answered as she shoved a bag of chicken nuggets into the freezer. “You’re going to have to wait.”

A soft smile graced Yua’s features as her hands wrapped around her steaming mug. The heat of the drink brought life to her veins once more. Green hues watched as the numbers on the microwave counted down, and when it dinged she removed the sippy cup and took a test sip from the beverage to see how warm the liquid inside was. Then, with a mug and warm sippy cup in hand Yua made her way to the living room.

“Coco! Coco! Coco!” With each word came the squeaking of her fluffy toy duck.

“Patience little demon.” Yua teased playfully, though the slight smile dancing on her lips vanished when she became aware that there was a stranger standing within reaching vicinity of her sister.

“Coco! Coco!” The child cried as she pointed viciously at the man near the window. Electric blue’s stuck instantly to Yua but her attention was on the steady flickering of flames erupting from his fingertips.

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Interested? You can find the story on Quotev and Fanfiction!

https://www.quotev.com/story/13059990/Shield-Dabi-x-Oc/1

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13693411/1/Shield

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twelve) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Ash Miller, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5600 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part twelve: After finally opening up to each other, Dean is having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. But the flirting is soon interrupted when one of the horses gets caught in a dangerous situation. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘How Far This Road Goes’ - Gareth Dunlop, ‘Seven Riders’ - James Horner & Simon Franklin (second scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

     With a grin wider than the horizon, Dean puts the rolled-up mattress on Ted’s back, attaching it behind the saddle by tying the leather strings around it. He barely slept last night, but he doesn’t feel tired, not in the slightest. Nothing will get him off this high cloud, because last night, he kissed Y/N.        The head wrangler hums a Led Zeppelin tune as he tightens Ted’s cinch a little, patting his four legged friend on the shoulder when he’s done. Joplin is waiting next to him, rather impatiently, tied up to the strung rope between a boulder and a tree, like the other seven horses. Her female rider moves in between the dark mare and Ted, causing Dean to fight back an amused scoff. Y/N could have tacked up Joplin from the left side, which is the usual protocol when handling a horse. But instead, the cowgirl chose the small space between the two large animals, the space Dean already occupied, making it a tight fit.     “Morning, Yankee,” he teases, still with his back towards hers as he secures his lasso.     “G’morning,” she greets back. “Were you humming ‘Whole Lotta Love’ just now?”      Dean chuckles now, “I’ve got a reason to be cheery.”

     Y/N presses her lips together, very much aware why her supervisor is in such a good mood. She is also very much aware that he’s only inches away, the two almost touching. The chemistry is evident and she needs to remind herself that the others are also readying their horses; they are not alone like they were last night. Giving her hands something to do, she checks the saddle bags again, even though she has done so already.       “Did you sleep well last night?” Dean wonders casually, but she caught the lower tone in his voice. That tone that makes her heart beat faster and has her closing her eyes and taking a moment to compose herself.      “I did actually. A little short, though,” Y/N returns. “What about you?”      “Oh, I couldn’t sleep.”

     She can hear Dean’s boots crunch the gravel underneath them as he turns around. He comes closer and Y/N forgets what she’s doing, one hand holding the stirrup, might she need the support. She feels his hand on her hip, the touch so featherlight that she could be imagining it. Holding still while he moves in, she fights a shocked whimper when his breath fans past the junction between her neck and her shoulder. How contradicting; the warm breeze leaves goosebumps over her entire body.      “How come?” she manages to utter, her voice close to failing.      Y/N feels his lips against her hair, but he doesn’t kiss her there, even though she silently begs him to do exactly that. She moves into his touch only slightly.      “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers in her ear.

     Before the others notice, he moves away and his hand slips from her hip, leaving a burning sensation where his fingertips gently pressed into her skin through the fabric of her jeans. The cowboy who has clearly found his way into her heart and her mind, shoots her a wink over his shoulder when she follows him with her gaze. Chuckling, she shakes her head in response. It’s a good thing she held onto the saddle, because her knees feel weak. God, the things he’s doing to her.      “Y’all ready to mount your ponies?” Benny checks, before he gets on his horse himself.      When all the wranglers have untied their horses, Dean rolls up the rope that functioned as a makeshift fence and adds it to the load carried by one of the pack-horses. He then puts his left foot in the stirrup and swiftly moves his leg over the saddle, the fringes of his chaps whipping when the breeze catches them. The others follow his example.

     “Alright. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. We ride to the next spring, but it will be roughly six miles from here. That’s more ground to cover than yesterday. It will be rocky terrain, so stay sharp and keep up.” Dean turns his horse with the reins in one hand. “Don’t forget to keep an eye out for the herd. They were last seen in Marsh Valley by hikers, but that was four days ago, so they could be long gone by now. If we don’t find them by the time we reach White Rock Spring, we’ll set up camp there and continue the search tomorrow. Y’all good with that?”

     The rest of the company agrees, both wranglers and horses excited to get moving. Joplin especially; the waiting has made her impatient. She rears, lifting her front hooves a couple of inches from the ground, repeating the action several times. Y/N rides it out, her hand reaching to pat the hot blooded mare on the neck in order to calm her down. In perfect balance she gives her horse enough freedom of reign, but controls the movements with her seat.       “Joplin certainly is,” she laughs, amused with the mare’s enthusiasm.      “Alright then,” Dean returns grinning, admiring her riding skills for a moment longer. “Let’s ride.”

     It’s past midday and there is no sign of the herd so far. The group of riders passed Weavers Needle hours ago, a thousand foot column of rock that forms a distinctive peak, visible from many miles away. Y/N felt so tiny when she rode through the landmark’s shadow, like an ant on the forest ground. She quite possibly strained a muscle in her neck from looking up, but the young woman from the North couldn’t help herself. The landscape, created by volcanoes ages ago and molded by wind and time, leaves her in complete awe. The further they travel into the Superstitions, the more surreal the scenery becomes. 

     Benny told stories last night about the mountains. About the legend of the Lost Dutch Gold Mine, and the hundreds of other abandoned tunnels, hidden in the volcanic stone. About the Indians, how some of them believe that the hole that leads down into ‘the lower world’ is located somewhere in these valleys, and that winds blowing from it create the severe dust storms in the metropolitan area. It’s a magical environment that, despite having a desert climate, seems alive. The way the wind plays with her horse’s mane and whispers as it breathes through the canyon. The way the mesquite bushes rustle and the Saguaro cacti reach their arms for the blue heavens above. This land has a personality of its own; unpredictable, layered and rich with wisdom.

     “Enjoying the view?”      Dean held up his horse as Y/N was staring up at the renmands. She didn’t even notice she fell behind.      “Sorry…” she mutters apologetic. “It’s just… everything here is so beautiful.”      “Sure is.”      The cowboy smirks at her, not just complimenting the landscape. Joplin’s rider is unable to hide her flattered smile.      “You can stop trying to win me over,” she returns jokingly, resting her hand behind her on the cantle of the saddle.      Dean side eyes Y/N, triumph in the way he holds himself, “Because I already did, right?”      “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warns. “Last night was amazing, but it was just a kiss.”      “Oh, I didn’t plan to stop,” he makes clear, copying her action without noticing, gripping the back of the saddle with his free hand as well. “Next chance I get, I’m gonna kiss you again.”      “Is that so?” she teases.      “Unless you’d rather not have me.” Dean observes her, eager to pick up on her reaction.

     His lower leg brushes against hers, the metal of the stirrups jingling when they collide. He stares into her eyes longer than he should, breaking through the resistance with more ease than Y/N wants him to. Honestly, she has never been an easy catch. She pictured she would at least let him work for it, prove to her that this isn’t just a fling. But her defense crumbles with every connection, no matter how small. The intern can’t help but crave for her supervisor to touch her, to kiss her right here and right now. Both of them being on horses complicates things, however, especially since one of those horses is Joplin, who is getting anxious now that she is a few hundred yards away from the group.       “I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N admits, on a more serious note.      Dean smiles, delighted at that, looking down at his horse for a brief second.       “You oughta catch up then.”

     The wrangler moves his hand forward and pushes his heels to his horses flanks simultaneously, the aid triggering Ted to shoot forward like an arrow from a bow. Without giving Y/N  a chance to respond, Joplin’s instincts kick in; she needs to stay with the herd. In a blink of an eye she bolts, surprising her rider, who can only just prevent a squeal from escaping her throat. The experienced rider is quick to recover, though. She moves her weight forward, allowing her horse to move under her freely, giving her all the reins she needs. Within five strides, Joplin is at full speed. Y/N can’t recall that she ever galopped this fast. The wind pushes the tears from the corner of her eyes, dust blocking her view. Her hat falls back, but she’s quick enough to catch it and push it tighter on her head. She doesn’t care, though, because she feels like she’s flying.

     Before they reach the others, Dean sits back in the saddle and pulls the reins, telling Ted with a ‘ho!’ to slow down. Joplin is next to him within a second, her rider laughing out loud. The cowboy watches her, laughter erupting from his throat as well.       “You’re crazy!” Y/N accused, a wide grin on her lips nonetheless. “What if I had fallen off?”      “You’re too good of a rider,” he returns, never worried she couldn’t handle herself. “And it’s about time you let go.”      “I usually don’t like losing control,” she returns, trying to be stern.       He cocks his eyebrow. “You didn’t mind last night.”       “Underlining ‘usually’,” she repeats with a tone, shaking her head at the up-to-no-good grin on his face.

     “Well, you—” He points his finger at her accusingly before he pushes his hat up a bit. “— should loosen up a bit. Picture it like riding.”      Y/N frowns at the wrangler next to her. “I thought we were talking about riding.”       “It doesn’t matter. What does, is if you hold onto the reins too tight, your horse will tense up. You will tense up. But if you relax at the right moment…” He moves his hand forward, giving Ted enough space to drop his head and the gelding blows out a satisfied sigh. “So will your horse. You allow things to be. And those are the best rides, ain’t they? The ones where the balance is perfect, and everything just clicks.”

     Y/N agrees to that without words, smiling at the comparison. Dean lets the true meaning of his message sink in as well. It’s good advice he’s giving. Maybe he should take it himself. In silence they take each other in. She has rolled up the sleeves of her dusty shirt for the warm breeze to caress her bare skin. Not so long ago, Y/N came walking into the Saloon, ironed button up, polished shoes, hair band and clips not allowing a single stubborn strand to spring free. Look at her now, like she couldn’t care less about appearance. Look how beautiful she is.       “By the way,” the woman next to him recalls, her voice softer so that the tourists can’t hear them.       “Hm-hm?”      “You were right. That was a lot more than just a kiss.”      With those words she canters away, and he’s only able to breath out again when she passes the other riders to lead the group. Don’t be fooled, he’s confident about how things are going, but that doesn’t mean that ‘allowing things to be’ is easy. Even he, the guy who doesn’t plan ahead and takes it day by day, is daunted by the possible commitment that this adventure with Y/N will bring. But one look at her, seeing the change she’s going through, the difference in her demeanor and her lifted confidence; she’s all the inspiration he needs.             “You better wipe that smile off your face, Chief, or the coyotes might start wonderin’ why you’re all giddy.”      A little startled Dean looks aside as Benny holds back his horse until he’s next to Ted. Caught in the act the head wrangler glares at his friend from under his Stetson, but the smirk doesn’t die down. No need to respond in words, because both know why Dean is on top of the world. And so the two companions ride next to one another for awhile in silence. Dean’s eyes never leave her, though, watching how she handles the bubbly mare, who’s excitement got peaked by the little race. Joplin isn’t for everyone, but she’s taking his advice and gives the dark horse free rein, trusting her, and eventually the mare transitions to a walk.

     “Well, now you’re just embarrassingly gaping,” Benny notices, clearly amused by the sight of his lovestruck friend.      Dean snaps out of it and eyes him again. It’s not so much the fact that Benny is mocking him, more the fact that he himself can’t get a grip.      “Shut up,” Dean mutters, shaking his head chuckling. “You were the one gaping when you interrupted us last night.”      “It was 3 AM and I wasn’t even close to awake, and what do I find?” Benny lazily points his finger at the intern, then at the man next to him. “You two, giving each other one hell of a Yankee dime. I mean, don’t get me wrong, brother. I’m proud of ya, but excuse me that I was a little taken aback.”      The Southerner pauses, his piercing blue eyes brassy and up to no good. Clearly he enjoys taunting his pal.             “Took ya quite a while to notice me too,” he comments, adding fuel to the fire.      “I was kinda in the middle of something!” Dean exclaims.      “Hell yeah, you were.” Benny sniggers. “Good think I stopped ya right there. At least now you saved some for later.”      “I wasn’t gonna go all the way with her,” his friend declares.      It doesn’t convince the rider next to him, though, because he laughs out loud.      “Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’.”      “Dude, I’m serious!” Dean states. “I ain’t gonna rush this.”      “Ah-uh.”      “I said: shut up.”

     The farrier’s laughter is contagious, hiccuping as he takes in air, and his friend can’t help but chuckle as well. The head wrangler adjusts the ranch rope hanging over his horse’s shoulder, the broad smile never wavering. It’s not just the smile, though, that tells Benny that Y/N is the girl for him. It’s his eyes. He has never seen them shine so bright. He has never seen Dean so contented.      “You two go together like peas and carrots,” Benny vouches, looking from the cowboy to the cowgirl. “I’m happy for ya, brother.”      “You’re talking like we’re about to settle down and get a dog,” Dean scoffs skeptical, even though deep down he wouldn’t mind an outcome as such.      “Give it time,” the Southerner recommends confident. “After all, two months ago, you would have thought I was crazy as a soup sandwich, if I’d predicted you to be on cloud nine by now.”       He wiggles his eyebrows and Dean sighs in response. He’s not even going to fight his friend on this, Benny is enjoying this way too much to ever let go.

     “Dean!”      The call comes from the front of the group and it seems urgent. Dean snaps his head to the sound of Y/N’s voice and the clatter of hooves. The intern has turned Joplin around and ridden back to the tourists. One of the pack horses, Cash, who Macy was guiding along side, tries to flee away as he kicks violently to the ground. He spins in circles around the rider and her gelding Jimmi, who is starting to panic as well.       “Pull the knot, Macy!” Dean commands, pushing Ted towards the commotion.      Fighting to control her own horse, she reaches for the rope that ties Cash to her saddle, trying to yank the safety knot. By this time, however, the distressed animal has pulled on the cord with all its weight, and there is no way it will loosen.       “I can’t!” she yells back, fright evident in her voice.

     Trying to not get caught up in the line, she steers Jimmi to stay head to head with the anxious pack horse. Dean is with her in a split second, maneuvering Ted close to her and staying free from the web.       “Listen to me, Mace. When you’re on the other end, I’m gonna take over.” He takes the end of Cash’s rope, wraps it around the horn of his saddle four times and locks it in his fist, hooking it behind his hip for leverage. “I need you to get yourself to safety the second that rope unties, alright?”       He makes eye contact and she nods frightened, all while trying to calm Jimmi, who is getting more claustrophobic by the second. The experienced wrangler then backs up Ted, using his horse’s body weight to pull the safety knot. The second Cash feels the freedom, he bolts. Macy is clear, but the head wrangler and his four hooved partner are about to be catapulted by the horse on a rampage. 

     Thinking fast, Dean moves his reins towards Ted’s ears, triggering him to rocket forward. Three strides later Dean can feel Cash jerk at the saddle, Ted bracing himself, the well-trained cattle horse maintaining his balance. The rope slips from Dean’s fingers, but he is able to keep his ground, even though the rough material burns in his hand. With tension on the line, the wrangler tries to keep Cash away from a boulder that came rolling down Bluff Spring Mountain, but can’t prevent the panicked horse from slamming the water tank he is carrying into the large rock. Even though drinking water pours from the hole, it’s not Dean’s first concern. Cash is holding his hind leg up, still kicking the ground as the black horse halts, breathing out nervously. Dean spots a trace of blood, just below the fetlock joint.      “Shit…” He gets off, dropping Ted’s left rein on the ground, a signal for the horse to stay in place and wait. Shit, shit, shit.      Cash, who is shaking and breathing fast after all the commotion, turns his head into the wrangler, seeming to seek comfort from him. Dean gently rubs the gelding’s withers and slips his hand down the hindleg to take a better look. Two distinctive small holes are visible on the white sock, crimson drops rolling down. It seems like barely anything, but he has lived in this area all his life; he knows a snake bite when he sees one.      “He got bit,” Dean informs the five wranglers, who are waiting on the path in anticipation.      Benny curses under his breath, getting down from his horse as well.       “By what? A spider?” Y/N wonders, sticking with the tourists on a safe distance.      “Nope.” 

     The Southerner picks up a stick, poking at something in the bushes. Then he lifts the piece of wood, a snake hanging from the end of it. Macy squeals and Y/N inhales sharply, too. She has never seen a snake up close like that, at least not without thick glass between her and the reptile. God, that thing is huge!      “Is it dead?” Dean checks, still standing by the wounded horse.      “Dead as steak on the grill,” the Southerner confirms, taking a closer look.       “Is it a rattler?” 

      The head wrangler watches Benny examine the animal as he prays to God that it isn’t. Rattlesnakes in this area are highly dangerous. The amount of venom they possess might not be enough to floor a horse, but it will cause extensive swelling for sure, most likely followed by a bad infection that will cut off the blood supply. A bite inflicted by a venomous snake could be life threatening, even when treated by a veterinarian immediately. Miles from civilization with no access to medical resources, it becomes lethal.      “I think it is, Chief.”

     Y/N looks over at the head wrangler, who drops his head and swears. It slowly begins to sink in that the consequences of what seems like a small injury might have serious consequences. Dean looks up, making eye contact with the intern and motioning her to come over. She rides Joplin off the path and dismounts the mare, leading her to Cash, who she comfortingly pets on the nose.      “Listen to me carefully,” he starts, his voice toned down so that the others can’t hear him, as he instructs the intern calmly. “If that is a rattlesnake, I need you to take the tourists a half a mile up the trail. At the junction, you wait until me and Benny catch up.”       “Wait, what are you gonna…” she stammers, hesitant where Dean is going with this.

     He bites his bottom lip for a moment and looks deep into her eyes, the urgency apparent in his intense greens.      “You’ll be responsible for the guests, so be cautious. Don’t take any risks and keep them safe. I know you’re not familiar with the area and that this is a lot, but can you do that?”      “Benny could go with them, he knows these trails,” she suggests, but Dean dismisses it instantly.      “No. I don’t want you to see this.”      “See wh -” she pauses, his penetrating gaze and tensing jaw stopping her from forming words. Shocked she rakes her fingers through Cash’s forelock, only now realizing the difficult task that Dean is facing. “Oh my God, you’re gonna put him down.”

     He doesn’t answer, but swallows apprehensively. If Cash has venom coursing through his bloodstream, his chances of survival can be considered zero. A slow and agonizing death awaits him; a bullet to the head would be the most moral way to go. The head wrangler takes a deep breath, composes himself, and shifts his gaze to Benny. Seems like he’s going to have to use the Colt after all.      “I’m gonna check out the snake, make sure it’s a rattler. If it is, you know what to do?”       Y/N nods uneasy, but determined enough to assure Dean that she can do her part. He thanks her without saying anything, his eyes softening. Then he moves past her, heading back to the trail. Left stunned, she lets her hand glide down Cash’s nose, trying to ease the horse, who in his turn gently presses his large head against her chest. Even though Y/N barely knows the horse, tears prick in her eyes. Poor, poor thing. She looks over her shoulder, watching in apprehension, how the head wrangler crouches down next to Benny, who has the snake at the end of a stick. 

     Dean pokes the reptile to make sure it’s dead, taking a good look at the animal. The light brown color with dark blotches on its back and smaller dark spots on its side, are indications that Benny is right. He can’t tell much when examining the head, since Cash killed the snake with a fierce kick and smashed its skull. Dean picks up the animal by the tale. It looks different from the rest of its body, but there is no rattle at the tip of it, like he has seen before with the Western Diamondback that is common in the area. He sighs relieved.      “It’s a Gopher snake,” he states. “A Sonoran, by the looks of it. Smart fellas; they mimic rattlesnakes to ward off predators.”      “Could’ve fooled me,” Benny concedes.      “Not venomous?” Y/N checks.      Dean smiles her way. “Not venomous.”      A weight falls off her shoulders, and the female wrangler rustles Cash’s mane thankfully. She exchanges a look with Dean, silent conversation easing the both of them. Then the group leader turns to the tourists.       “Alright y’all, let’s take a break here,” he decides, beckoning at the shade near the big boulders.       “Is Cash gonna be okay?” Macy asks worried.      “He’s gonna be fine. We’ll rest up for half an hour, meanwhile fix that water tank. Benny? Let’s repack so that we can take the load off Cash.” Dean turns to look at the farrier, who nods in agreement.

     They leave the snake for the vultures and move away from the trail. While Benny and Brad tack down Cash and focus on repairing the tank with duct tape, saving the water that remains in the tank by catching it with their water bottles, Dean focuses on the black gelding’s injury. Y/N strolls past him between the horses, who have taken cover in the shade. She watches how the cowboy flushes the puncture wounds with water, despite the fact that Cash keeps lifting his hind leg.      “Do you need an assistant?”      He looks over his shoulder and nods. “Could you hold him for a sec?”      She takes Cash by the rope that he fought so hard minutes ago, rubbing the bay’s shoulder in order to distract him. It works, because the gelding puts his foot down, allowing Dean to press a gauze soaked with betadine on the small holes.      “There,” he says satisfied, when he’s done cleaning the punctures. 

     Y/N lets go of Cash’s halter, picking up the bottle of betadine from the first aid kit, together with a clean gauze pad.      “Your turn.” She nods at his hand.“Show me that.”      Dean brushes it off. “It’s nothin’.”      His intern isn’t having it, though, and after shooting him a glare she takes his right hand and turns it over. Despite that his palm is calloused from years of ranch work, the rope has burned off parts of his skin, leaving fiery blisters.       “I wouldn’t file that under ‘nothin’,” she returns stern, mocking his slang.      Dean can’t help but grin at that, surrendering to her care. The smirk turns into a grimace when she dabs the damaged tissue with iodine.       “Sorry,” she apologizes when she notices him tensing up.      “It’s okay,” he assures, looking at her fondly, despite the sting.            Y/N blushes at his expression, breaking away from his warm eyes and focusing on his hand again. She applies a clean gauze and dresses his hand, taping the end of the bandage so that it won’t come off.      He checks his hand from both sides, impressed with her work. “How do you know how to do that?”      The cowgirl shrugs. “I have three brothers who never failed to miss an opportunity to fall from their treehouse or trip while chasing each other through the woods. You do the math.”      Dean chuckles, testing the movement of his fingers as he turns towards the other men, who are still working on the tank. On his way over, he glances at the young woman again.      “Thank you.”      “You’re welcome,” she returns happily, walking past Joplin to pick her water bottle from the saddle bag.

     Joining Macy and Jon, she makes the most of what remains of the half hour break, while the other wranglers try to repair the tank. Having lost most of the water, they don’t waste too much time resting up here and decide to move on to White Rock Spring. The other horses take over Cash’s tack, who only has to carry the empty tank. The gelding already puts full weight on his injured leg, the wounds so superficial that he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Twenty minutes later Y/N puts her left foot in the stirrup and hoists herself in the saddle. Her limbs are tired, her back is beginning to hurt. Day two of this trail is taking more out of her than she expected, not only physically, but also mentally, after the close call with Cash. Even though it’s early afternoon, she hopes that Dean and Benny will decide to call it a day, once the group reaches the spring. 

     It doesn’t take long before they pass the rock formation of Black Top Mesa and reach the T-junction Dean described earlier, left leading into Marsh Valley, right to Charlebois Canyon. The two Gold Canyon Ranchers leading the company have stopped just off the trail on the top of a hill. She catches a glimpse of Benny’s face, and he does not look pleased. Not sure if it’s her place to join them, since she’s the intern, she hesitates to ride up to the wranglers, but takes her chances a few seconds later. Dean did involve her when Cash suffered that possibly dangerous injury, afterall. Joplin halts next to Ted as her gaze jumps between the two riders.      “Something wrong?” she wonders.      “What’s missin’ here, Yankee?” Benny counters, without answering her question.

     Y/N looks ahead, down Charlebois Canyon. The land is dry and dusty, rocks and volcanic remnants more evident in the landscape. Now that she’s made aware that something is unusual about this picture, she remembers that the canyons east of Weavers Needle were much greener. More plants and bushes, more life.      “Water,” the female wrangler realizes. “There’s no water.”      “Yep,” Benny confirms. “That spring is supposed to be over yonder.”      “But how can there be no spring? It rained cats and dogs a week ago,” she wonders confused.      “Welcome to Arizona, where it can be raining like a cow’s pissin’ on a flat rock on one side of the road while the sun shines on the other,” the Southerner states.

     Dean is quiet, the gears in his head turning as he blankly stares ahead. He’s holding his reins with his unharmed hand, the leather feeling a little foreign, since he hardly ever rides left-handed. There are a few more springs close by, but since the whole canyon looks dry and dead, except for a few Saguaro cacti, he’s guessing that those ran dry too. Biting his bottom lip he glances over his shoulder in the direction where they came from, then north.      “What do we do now?” Y/N inquires, her eyes shifting from Benny to Dean.      “Chief?” the farrier checks with his friend, when he doesn’t respond.       “How far do you think it is to Eagle’s Nest?” he questions. “About six miles?”      “Give or take,” the Southerner affirms.      Dean ponders, but then turns Ted around to face the three approaching tourists.      “We’ve run into a bit of an issue,” he starts, updating the guests on the newly occurred problem. “White Rock Spring has dried up, and looking at the vegetation, I don’t think it’s wise to continue east. We’re not gonna find water there, which also means that the herd is most likely elsewhere. The way I see it, we’ve got two options: we either turn around and ride four and a half miles back to Willow Spring, or we move north to Salt River.”      “How far is that?” Brad asks as the dark haired student rests his wrists on the horn of his saddle.      “Six miles,” Dean declares. “If we leave now, we’ll hopefully make it by sunset. We need an inventory on water and food supplies. And I need y’all - and this is really important - to be one hundred percent certain that you’re up for another six hours in the saddle. If anyone ain’t, we will turn around to the Willow and cut our losses for today. No shame in it.”

     The leader of the company now turns to Macy, who has Cash waiting next to her. The black horse looks alert and calm, his weight on all four hooves.      “How’s he doing?” Dean wonders.      “He seems fine. He’s sound, even in a jog just now,” she returns, having kept an eye on the gelding next to her.      Dean nods, but not completely satisfied. He’s torn. Torn between pushing through and marching on to Salt River, or taking the safe route back to where they came from. Going back feels like giving up. It will be another day without a trace of the herd, another day of wasting time and energy. They have enough food with them for five days. Heading back might be a crucial setback, one that could lead to returning home without the group of young horses. He promised Ellen and Bobby to bring them in, but he also promised to keep everyone safe. 

     “How much water do we have left?” he checks.      After a quick count, they come to the conclusion that they have about 10 liters between the six of them, the horses not even included. The animals are used to these circumstances, though, and they can go without water for three to four days. Dean is confident they should be okay. It’s the riders he’s worried about: both the tourists and Y/N. Dean sighs, looking up the trail from Marsh Valley that leads into the mountains.       “Is there anyone who wants to go back to Willow Spring?”      No one steps forward or raises their hand. Dean looks the crew in the eye, one by one, trying to unravel them and detect even the slightest hint of doubt. His gaze lingers on Y/N, who doesn’t give him an inch and seems determined. He nods, his mind made up.      “Alright, then,” he decides. “We ride north.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part thirteen here

[kashimos-hajime]

home | l.l.

Summary: “Come home to me, my love. Please, bring him home.”  You’re a youthful little creature, but anyone who knows that life’s most vibrant gifts are the ones most dangerous, knows to stay away.

WARNINGS: ANGST, but happy ending, blood, death, sacrificial rituals, mentions of suicide bc loki :( Pairing: pre-Thor to postTDW!Loki x sorceress!Reader Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Okay, so months ago, I entered a certain writing challenge, and forgot about it. Layla was kind enough to tell me to take my time, and now I have it completed! My prompt was: “Excuse my tantrum, can’t you see I’ve got my hands full.”

@wxntersoldiers, enjoy bb!! You deserve it :)

They've hidden you away on this war-hungry realm, where the blades are sharp and the shields are sharper. Shoved books and herbs and tutors every which way they think you will intercept them, so that they can mold you into a lady worthy of Asgard’s standards. Placed your blades out of reach, because Vanaheim is the peace to Asgard’s war. The country to Asgard’s city. Farmers to their rich.

They call you simple. You are your father’s daughter, after all, and he was merely a farmer before he was a king.

So, yes, you are the farmer’s daughter, who just happened to be lucky to marry the Prince of Asgard. The simple girl who is well-spoken, and polite, and trusting without a fault. The pretty, simple girl from a peaceful realm who doesn’t understand that their Prince will never love an idiot like you.

What you know as the truth is all that matters.

.

Your father is Freyr of Two Kingdoms. Of Vanaheim and Alfheim and you are to lead both. Your father reads aloud strategy instead of bedtime stories, and you paint with a sword instead of a brush. You grow up a battle-hardened warrior who has not yet lost a battle, and your father’s father sends his blessings to you. He tells you the ocean sings in your veins and the winds rest in your heart. He tells you that you are the tsunami’s rage and the torrential rains of fall.

But all the courtiers call you is farmer’s girl. Little peach.

A farmer’s girl who wields a scythe like a second arm, who’ll cut someone in two if it means it’ll make your father proud. A sweet little thing who has knives hidden in a smile. A fountain of limitless potential without a leash, a witch, if anyone’s ever seen one, without a master.

Your father’s sister amends that immediately.

She bleeds you over the fire, and teaches you things your father does not dare to speak of. Sorcery, and spells, and little tiny tricks that’ll tip the balance to your side. Black magic, they call it. You say it’s making use of what you are born with.

Little peach. Dark princess.

A little peach who is her mother’s daughter, shimmering and beautiful. 

You’re a youthful little creature, but anyone who knows that life’s most vibrant gifts are the ones most dangerous, knows to stay away.

.

It’s a shame, you realize, that an arranged marriage was made.

You’re quite sure that if you’d met Loki in any other circumstance, you’d love him and he’d love you. He’s quiet and polite, and not hard on the eyes at all. In fact, you’re quite sure he’s attracted to you, too. After all, there are worse brides in the nine realms. 

But, then he listens to what the court says, and you keep up the pretense that you’re nothing but the clouds in your head. Not that it’s hard. You simply don’t fight it, and let the people do the rest. You have no interest in defending yourself against opinions that don’t matter. You only care about one.

Your mother’s whispers tell you to paste that smile on your face. It’s not worth the trouble to fight what they think of you.

Your father’s glare demands you to show them who you are. You are my heir, and you will earn their respect.

Your lady aunt Freyja takes no side, but you can imagine her voice perfectly. My autumn child, you know what men do for a woman’s love.

You smile and open up a book as your betrothed enters the library. His eyes rake over you for a moment as you let out a soft hum, face turned away. The sun shines through the window, illuminating the dust that flickers through the air and you flip a page deliberately to catch his attention again.

“What are you reading?” he asks two shelves over.

“Some odd book about seiðr,” you respond and your gaze rises to see him pausing. He grabs the book he has floating somewhere between him and the shelf, and turns around, meeting your eyes. He searches for something deeper. You drop your eyes back to the book you’ve read countless times before.

He sits down on the opposite end of the window sill bench and you tuck your knees to your chest. You hold the book open, and his eyes flicker across your face, drinking you in. 

“Interesting?” he inquires. You send him a smile.

“Enough.”

No more words are said. He simply cracks open his book and you return to yours. You cannot help the smile that spreads across your face.

Many things, Aunt Freyja. People do many, many things for love.

.

That is your little hideaway, the library. Only Loki knows when to find you and where — that spot on the window sill bench, after dinner and before breakfast — and he comes to join you often.

Mostly, he asks questions. You smile and answer all of them willingly. You’ve let him come to you, and now you have him in your grasp, and you in his. The moment he finds out you also know how to use magic, know how to do things that not many on this war-hungry realm can, you feel something in your chest lurch at the very sight of him. Perhaps it’s the way his eyes spark when he reads something new, or the gentle way in which he smiles at you. 

No matter. You enjoy the games you play together.

You watch the way the sunlight hits the smooth apples of his cheeks and brow bones as you play with the magic at your fingertips. The two of you play a game where you must get pieces through hoops the other positions. It can be as outrageous as one’d like, but in the lazy setting sun and the fullness of supper, neither of you go farther than the distance between the two. 

He holds a hoop between the two of you and your lips twist as you telekinetically toss a piece through it. It lands in his lap and you smirk victoriously.

“Now, I get a question,” you announce. Loki leans back against the wall, a satisfied smile upon his face. “Lemon tarts or berry tarts?”

“You know I don’t like sweet things,” Loki deadpans and you smile, tucking your knees to your chest. You flick your fingers and retrieve the piece still in his lap as his own wooden blocks float around his fingers. “Lemon tarts.”

Taking your own hoop and holding it up above your head with a wave of your fingers, you feel the warm gush of power flow down your fingers. The wooden hoop shimmers with blue magic as you look up, making the final adjustments to its position.

“I’m ready,” you announce and Loki picks up a piece with his fingers. It soars through the air with a flick of his fingers and through the hoop, and he catches it before it can drop on your head. He smiles with a little ‘ahah’ and holds the little wooden piece in his fist as you lower the hoop onto your finger with an amused smile.

It seems only in the sanctuary that is the library does Loki smile like he does. You’ve been here quite a while to know that he’s not the favourite son. The Allfather tries his best not to make it so painstakingly obvious, but you can see it plain as day. 

He wears his smile in the court like a courtesy. Whilst you float around, a butterfly searching for nectar, he is the crow perched on leaves, wondering when he can return home to his murder — his flock. You’ve tried to draw that smile you know lurks within him out, but fail every time.

Here though, he blooms like the sweetest flower and you reach over to skim your fingertips over his knuckles. His eyes flicker down before meeting yours. 

“Why do you act like that in court?” he asks softly, and you tilt your head.

“Like what?”

“You know what I mean, my lady.”

“I know what they think of me,” you say with a cunning smile. “You can’t make people change their minds, and an advantage can only be used once. But why should I care about silly little opinions when only one truly matters?” Your magic dances across your fingertips and over Loki’s hand as he slowly turns it over to grasp your palm. His fingers slide over your wrist, feeling your pulse that beats in your ears.

“And whose opinion is that?” he asks, tone bemused. You roll your eyes, draw back, and gesture to one of the hoops he has floating around his head.

“One question per point,” you remind him, drawing your hand away. Pink stains his cheeks and you send him another sly smile. “Come on. A few more rounds before bed.”

“Bed?” he repeats with a glint of mischief. You fling a block at his nose which he deflects easily, and his smirk causes your lips to press into a flustered smile. “Too early for bed, isn’t it, my lady?”

“The night is still young.”

“Ah, you know that wasn’t what I meant.” 

“If you’re so eager, a request could be made to my father to move the wedding up a fortnight,” you chuckle. With the wedding only a month away, everything is falling into place. The few things you have left to deal with is the final fittings for the dress, and the final draft of the menu.

“I’ll resist the temptation, little witch. The wait will make it sweeter.”

Your heart beats a little faster. By his little self-satisfied smirk, you know he knows, and you curse Loki for being able to turn the tides of your little battle against you.

.

The day of the wedding is scheduled for the first day of autumn, and gentle wind kisses your cheeks as you walk through the gardens. A spiral of orange and yellow, red and brown, follow your steps as your father walks you through one last time.

“You’ll return home, then? Once the wedding is over?” you ask softly. The sparrows chirp overhead, flitting from one branch to another. You smile at the sweet songs, leaning against your battle-worn father. He wears a handsome grey pelt around his shoulders, his cape dragging behind on the cobblestone road as you tilt your head to the grey-blue sky. 

“Yes. Once I’m sure you’ve settled in, and you’re comfortable here.” Autumn blossoms sprinkle the pathway as you ascend the steps to the Great Hall and you turn to your father with a smile reserved only for him. 

“I am happy here. If they’d let me bring out my sword once in a while, then it’ll be perfect.” 

He nods, cupping your face and tilting your chin up towards him. His dark eyes flicker over your face, thumb stroking your jaw and you smile bittersweetly. You know what he sees — his little girl.

“Thank you, Father.” 

And at last, he smiles. It vanishes a second later, but the love that swells in your chest does not as he sends the guards a nod.

The doors open, and you are presented to the people who are to be yours.

Loki wears his ceremonial armor, golden horns glinting in the morning sunlight that streams through the open ceiling. Rich green spills from his shoulders, his cape pooling around his leather boots as he turns to look at you. A reverent silence hangs in the air, filled by the soft lull of harps and choir voices, and you lower your eyes to avoid the evident smile that’ll occupy your face as soon as you see him.

When you reach the altar, you turn to gather up your dress that tumbles on for miles to see attendants already holding onto it, adjusting it so it flows prettily down the golden stairs. Your father watches with a hard stare, making sure you look as beautiful as you can be and you place your hands on your father’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Papa. For everything.” 

He nods once, and then takes hold of your hands with his rough ones. His thumbs brush over your knuckles as he turns to Loki, who holds out his own hands.

You look at the man who is to be your husband in mere moments, and he hides a smile beneath that helmet of his. Your father places your hands in Loki’s, giving you away, before descending down the steps and standing next to your Aunt Freyja who hides a clever smile behind her hands.

.

Marital bliss lasts for centuries. The both of you are in no rush for children, still young and eager to learn about the world and each other. 

“If it comes, then we let it come,” Loki whispers into your neck one night before bed. You press your whole body against his, wrapping him in a tight hug as his arm drapes over your waist. He kisses your jaw and brushes hair away from your face, eyes dark in the shadows of your shared rooms. “But in the meantime, I’d like to get in a lot of practice.”

“Practice, hm?” Your face is flush against his chest, and you press soft, tiny kisses against the bare skin you find there, fingers tracing shapes along his back. He sighs, his hand trailing up and down your side as he takes you in. Your eyes peer up at him modestly, and you reach up to touch his face. You feel his smile warm against your palm, and you wonder how it is that you’ve fallen in love with the man when he’s the one who is supposed under your spell. 

You suppose it isn’t hard to wonder why.

“Oh, yes. Lots and lots of practice.” His nose wrinkles against your cheek and your laughter is silenced by his kisses as you wrap your arms around his neck. The sheets twist around your body as you slide a leg between his. The burn of his skin spreads delightfully into your bones as you sigh, brushing fingers over his cheeks.

“I adore you, you know that?” 

“Of course I do,” he whispers, and he seals that promise with a kiss.

.

Your first is a daughter, and the birth is difficult. You think it’s the stress — the whole ordeal has been a hellish year, and the fact that Thor has been banished such a short time ago. 

Loki has been exiled to pace outside your room to let the midwives work as you let out a torrential scream. Outside, Asgard faces a storm, bullet rain that dents metal with every one of your pained shouts as wet wind carries the fate of your child to all corners of the realm. There is blood, so much blood that they have to change the towels beneath your waist twice.

And even then, it’s a struggle.

Frigga brings you sustenance — filling soup and water — as well as updates on your husband.

“He’s going positively mad,” your mother-by-law whispers and you let out a breathless laugh as another contraction rips through you. Something tears and you grip onto whatever is closest, clamping down with all your might. The midwives murmur amongst themselves but you cannot see through your tears to bother asking what’s wrong.

The labour continues on for another day and a half before you can rest. Frigga departs your bedside to go look and you raise your head blearily. You’re quite light-headed, and you wonder why there is such a silence. You can hear the gurgles of a child, the tiny little wails but otherwise, nothing.

“What’s wrong?” you croak, blinking. You need to see your baby. You gave your life and soul to this child and now they won’t even tell you what’s wrong. “Is it a boy, or a girl?” Nothing. “Answer me!”

“We… we don’t know, Princess.”

Your whole world shatters. You try to sit up but Frigga stops you as agony rips between your legs mercilessly. Groaning, you slide back down as she cups your face. Your blown eyes search hers, and you feel the tears coming before you can stop them. Hair sticks to the sweat on your skin as you let out a quivering breath, trying to stop yourself from sobbing.

“What’s wrong with my child?” you ask weakly, closing your eyes as tears burn hotter than the flames surrounding you. Frigga shushes you and you feel the shift of the bed as she turns to the midwives.

“You do not speak of this moment. You do so, and you will not wake up from your sleep. Leave.”

The door opens and closes. A soft bundle is pressed into your arms. Frigga stuffs pillows beneath your head and urges you to open your eyes.

“There’s a secret we’ve been hiding from Loki his whole life,” the Queen whispers as your eyes peel open. Tears blur your vision instantly but you blink them away. With a weak finger, you pull the towel away from your child’s face. “Something we should’ve told him long before he met you.”

“Boy or girl?” you ask quietly. The child turns in your arms, eyes squeezed shut and a closed fist hitting your finger softly. 

“You have a sweet little daughter.”

Nodding to yourself, you feel your fingers go numb as you stare at your tiny little daughter. She’s so small, so gentle, and yet she already has such a climb in front of her. Your heart swells for your firstborn child, and you hold her to your forehead, breathing in her scent as you stroke her tiny chest.

You kiss her blue, marked cheek, and her tiny blue knuckles, play with her creamy little fingers and brush a knuckle down the unmarked side of her face. You watch as your half-blue daughter searches for food, and you swallow a hard knot. Bearing your breast, you let her feed and try not to cry once again. 

“When will you tell him?” you ask. Frigga looks on with guilt, with shame. Your eyes stare frostily at her, and you wonder if this is why the Allfather favours Thor over him. “I won’t hide this from him.” The Queen has no answer, and a wave of nausea crashes over your head as you turn to look at your daughter. The birthing pains have faded, replaced by new, deeper cuts on your heart. “Please bring him in.”

When Loki meets his tiny little daughter, blue and cream, frost giant markings along her face and body, he confesses that he knows. Knows he’s a monster.

You tell him with every ounce of yourself that he is not even though you know he won’t believe you. So you tell him you love him instead, because he knows that that will never change.

.

“Thor! You’re back!” You rush to him, pulling him into your rooms as you admire your brother. His golden hair shines in the candlelight and he wears a fatigued smile as you go to pour him some tea. 

“There’s no need for that,” he says with a wave and you send him a strange look. Something about him seems off. He’s no longer the jovial man you know, or perhaps, something has happened. Before you can entertain that thought, though, a shrill cry pierces the air and you go to the cradle beside your bed. 

Your daughter squirms and wiggles, and you pick her up, shushing her quietly as you turn to look at Thor. He stares at your daughter for half a moment, and you smile sadly.

“They hid the secret from you, too,” you begin and he rips his gaze to you. “Sweet brother, Loki has been raised in a lie.”

And that is what makes the next bit of news so utterly horrible.

“Where is he, anyhow?” you ask. You gently rock your daughter in your arms, hoping that’ll soothe her to sleep but with a newborn, you’re only learning more and more everyday. Thor grimaces, fingers slotting together as if he’s trying to figure out the right words to say. You go to your balcony, looking at where the bridge has shattered. You arch an eyebrow, tilting your head and absently stroking your daughter’s cheek. “The Bifrost was glowing awfully bright before you returned.”

“Autumn sister,” he whispers, and his voice has grown thick. You turn to him, the wind tugging at the skirts around your ankles as he steps onto the balcony with you. The moon casts you both in silver, and you swallow. 

“Bad news?” Your voice shakes and you try to pretend it’s from the cold that does not bother you, not the fear that seizes your heart and threatens to crush it into tiny pieces of dust. When Thor does not answer, you shake your head and whip around, holding your child to your face. Yours and Loki’s. Our daughter.

“I’m sorry—”

“No. No, please don’t tell me,” you whisper. Kissing her cheek, you hold the child close to you in hopes that it’ll fend off whatever words Thor will say. “Don’t tell me, please.”

“He let go of my hand,” Thor whispers and you close your eyes, breath rattling in your throat. “He let go, and he fell.”

“No. He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

A myriad of emotions digs into your heart, splitting it with a chisel and hammer, carving it into something that resembles a broken heart. You wilt, sinking to your knees and holding your daughter close. The last pieces of Loki you have left.

“Was I not enough?” you ask to the winds. Thor drapes his cloak around your shoulders, gently touches your daughter’s cheek who meets her uncle for the first time, and shakes his head. “Was our daughter not enough?”

“It was never anything you did,” he whispers, hugging you tight. You close your eyes, and tears trace over onyx armor as he presses a tight kiss to your temple. “Some secrets never should have been secrets.”

.

“You’re sending Thor to Midgard, but not me?” You throw open the doors with a slam, storming into the throne room. Odin Allfather sits up in his chair, his conversation with his wife all but broken as you stop. Blue autumn winds follow after you, brushing against your skirts, your hands, curling around your fingers. “I’m his wife, if you don’t remember.”

“You have a daughter. I don’t want young Hela to lose two parents,” he replies, an easy response, a trained one. You sneer, hands curling into knuckle-white fists. Magic rushes to your fingertips, but before you can protest, he slams Gungnir into the floor. “My decision is final.”

Frigga’s, however, is not. With a promise to take care of your daughter, she sneaks you into the Observatory. Thor flies you in, and the two of you hold on tight to each other as Frigga waves farewell.

“I need to return before he thinks anything’s amiss,” the Queen Mother explains with a slight smile. “Bring him home.”

“We will,” the two of you promise. 

When Odin’s dark magic powers the Observatory for the first time in centuries, he sends not one but two warriors down to Midgard.

.

“Loki?” you whisper, and he wilts under your stare. Something flickers in your eyes as you press your hands against the glass. He’s trapped in some sort of cage, and you paste on that smile of yours as he walks towards the thick walls.

He places his hands deliberately to cover yours, and you lean forward, your forehead touching his. The soft thunk tells you he does the same and you close your eyes. You can nearly feel the heat of him. Almost, not quite, maybe.

“What have they done to you?” you ask as your heart tries to touch his. It wrenches out of your chest, and you open your eyes to meet his, smokey blue, a gaze you don’t know. “Who did this to you?”

There is no answer. He merely backs away into the end of the glass container like you’d shocked him.

“I’ll kill them. I’ll kill whoever did this to you,” you promise. The glass begins to bend under your burning hands and the blue magic under your fingertips phases through the glass. The rest of you follows, and you are in the cell with him. He watches you like an injured dog, and your heart cracks as you open your arms.

“Stay back, wife,” he spits, but you don’t care. His poison has never touched you. You continue towards him.

“I’ll kill them all,” you repeat as the uncertainty in Loki’s eyes grows. “I promise you. I promise I will do whatever they’ve done to you to them tenfold. I will bring you home to our daughter.” You think of little Hela back home, and you smile. “She’s missed you. She’s your little girl.”

“She’s a monster,” he whispers harshly. You falter and your arms drop to your sides. “Don’t you see?”

“I’ve never cared much for monsters.” Blue mist spills into the air, tasting like cold starlight and warm spices as you reach out one hand to him. “And I know how to love one with everything I have.”

Tendrils of magic weave from your fingers out to Loki, who has half-turned away from you. It caresses his face and whispers over his jaws, taking hold and turning his cheek towards you. His eyes meet yours and you smile. 

“Come home to me, Loki.”

He takes a step towards you and your heart swells in your chest. Your fingers strain for his cheek and your smile grows as he walks into your reach. Your hand cups his face, and you let out a relieved laugh. You absorb every inch of him, the sunken quality of his eyes, the hollowness in his cheeks. My husband. 

Your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly, he’s embracing you back desperately. His arms clutch at the leather that binds your armor together and you kiss his neck softly.

“She looks so much like you,” you whisper, tracing shapes on the plane of his shoulder. “Come home to me.”

“I will. When the work is done, I will.”

“What?” Your head raises off the crook of his neck and shoulder, and you stare into his eyes. Swallowing, you open your mouth to speak but then he pushes you hard, blasting you through the glass and onto the metal floor. “Loki—”

“Trust me, wife,” he says with a sly smirk. In between the lines of his face, you can read him like any book in the library.  “It won't take long.” Dusting yourself off, you nod and swallow the hard knot of fear in your throat.

.

Safe in his chains and muzzle, he presses his forehead against your cheek and in your mind you can hear one name.

Thanos.

The frost that crawls down your spine is not from the cold. You hold your husband tight against you as Thor twists the glass cylinder containing the Tesseract. Blue cosmic energy washes over you and you return home to your daughter, who cries when she sees her father.

.

You bring your daughter to his cell, sit on the lip of the stone and hold her up in your lap as he sits on the other side of the golden barrier. A tiny grin encompasses his face and makes him glow as Hela reaches forward.

“Hello, darling,” he whispers as you pull her back from the barrier. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Loki.” You sigh, fingers scratching the stone you sit upon as you wrap an arm around your daughter. “She took her first steps today.”

“Really? She’s a quick learner, then,” Loki praises and you smile sadly. You press your hand against the barrier despite the tingling electricity burning beneath your palm as a blue shockwave ripples over the gold. 

“You should have been there to see it,” you whisper over your blistering skin and Loki’s eyes widen. Tears burn into your eyes as your burning hand curls into a fist. “Loki, I can’t do this. You should be here—”

“Hold fast, my love.”

“This is no way for us to live.”

He places a hand against the burning barrier, and you close your eyes the tears race down your face. Hela’s soft hand wipes them away unknowingly and you open your eyes to gaze at your daughter. You see so much of your husband in her that it makes everything ache.

“No one ever said this was fair.” You look up again to see his palm, black and white instead of cream. There is no wince or flinch at the blood that pours down his wrist and you glance down at your own hand. The burns have already begun to fade, but the ones on your heart will forever remain raw.

.

“I need your help,” Thor whispers, tugging you away from the harbour. You’re torn away from Frigga’s funeral jarringly, blinking as you collide with people although Thor makes a clear enough path as you reach a small archway in an alley of some street. You thrash your arm out of his grip, backing to the opposite end of the archway. He stands there, stung, but all you can muster is a glare. The candlelight illuminates half of his face, the other cast in shadow, and your fist clenches.

The fires heighten, burn blue.

“What do you want from me?”

“We need to end this threat. We need to find Malekith and destroy him before he comes for the Aether.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You cross your arms, jaw stiff as you take another step back to his step forward. 

“Promise me you’ll help me. I need you.”

“Why should I?” you snarl, poison biting at your words. “Have you ever gone to see your brother? He rots in a cell whilst you come bringing you little lady love to Asgard.” Thor’s mouth opens and you raise a hand to silence him. “Save it. I want to hear nothing from you.”

.

“I told you I wouldn’t help you.”

“You’re being childish.” Thor enters your rooms. You spin around from where you’re holding your daughter, mouth open in protest. “You act like some simple girl who doesn’t understand the consequences. If Malekith gets his hands on the Aether—”

“Excuse me if I’m having a bit of a tantrum. Can’t you see I’ve got my hands full?” you snap. You send a wicked glare at your brother-by-law who seems to wilt underneath your stare and you inhale sharply. “What do you want, Thor?”

“Convince him to help me.” 

Your eyebrows furrow together, and you frown deeply. “Why should either of us help you?” you ask breathlessly and Thor looks away. “You imprison your brother who was tortured, manipulated—”

“You want revenge for Frigga?”

Your heart breaks into shatters at the mention of her, and your breath catches in your throat. “You know I do.”

“Then, what other reason do you have to help me?” Thor’s eyebrows raise in sympathy and he extends a hand to you. “Your daughter will be cared for, I promise you.” You kiss your daughter’s cheek, gaze into her red and blue eyes, before nodding.

“Fine.”

.

“Move!” You run away from Jane whom you’d been protecting and scream, blue magic flaring around your fingertips as you push Thor away. No, no, no. “Let me see him.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers painfully and you let out a horrified breath as he clutches as your sleeves. Blood spills over the soil as you bow your head, pressing your face against Loki’s. “I’m sorry, wife.”

“Loki, no. Hold on, sweetheart,” you tell him, placing a hand over the wound, fingers bending as you search for the source of blood. A poisoned blade, cursed with something dark. You can fix this — you can fix this if you have time— 

Loki’s fingers let go of your sleeve, slip off your hands as the pale blue of his heritage overtakes every part of him.

“No. Loki, no!” You cup his face, but his head rolls away at the force and you let out an outraged scream. “No, no, no!” Slamming a fist against the dirt, pure cosmic energy flares between the cracks of the dirt as a pair of hands reach for your shoulders. With one hand holding Loki’s body towards you, you twist to slap Thor away. “Stay away from me!”

“We need to find him,” Thor whispers through a thick, tear-ridden voice. “Malekith is still out there.”

“You killed him! Why should I help you?” you scream, skirting towards your husband’s body, holding his head in your lap. You brush the hair away from his face and sniff through your blurring vision. Hot tears drop to the soil and onto Loki’s pale face as you bow your head. Agony rips your heart to shreds as it collapses in your chest, and you struggle to breathe through your clogged throat. You tear your gaze wretchedly to him.

“Y/N—”

“Go! Leave!” What little air you can breathe rattles between your teeth as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to cleanse the image of your husband from your mind as you run stiff fingers through his hair. “Leave me!”

“I’m sorry.” The words whisper at your ears, but you shake your head. Forcing your eyes open, you reach a hand to the wound. And here you thought you’d never need what you’ve been taught ever again.

Dragonsroot, heartsbane. You’ll need a warm fire, fresh, young blood.

For the first time in so long, Freyja’s voice sings in your mind and you press your lips together. The magic tendrils stitch Loki back together from within and you use your other hand to pull the poison from his blood as you pray to your father. You haven’t in so long, that you wonder if he’ll still hear you. Vile, black magic stains your blue and you toss it aside, letting it curl and sink into the dirt.

Take me home, Father. Grant me safe winds, Grandfather, and blessed waves. Bring me home.

There is movement under Loki’s eyes, so quick that you think you must have hallucinated it and you blink the tears from your eyes. “Loki?” you whisper, brushing your hands over his tear-stained cheeks.

“Is that any way to greet your father?” 

Whipping around, you let out a breathless laugh upon seeing your father. How long has it been? Decades? Centuries? He looks older now than he did before, but no less strong. The mere image of him grants you strength and your heart mends momentarily with sticky sap and pure spite.

His flintstone eyes widen upon seeing his child on this foreign realm, holding onto the dead prince of Asgard and he walks to you, falling to his knees. Trying to hold back your tears, your throat blooms in pain as you throw your arms around him.

“Please, help me,” you sob, your forehead pressing against your father’s broad shoulder. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Little one,” he whispers, holding you tight, “we know someone who does.”

.

In a pyre built by you and you alone, Loki burns.

The smell of burnt leather and hair fills the air, no matter how many flowers and sweet fruits loiter in the clearing you do this in. 

Your aunt’s instructions echo in your ears and you turn back to look at the castle over your shoulder where your daughter awaits. She’d been rescued by your father earlier that day whilst your aunt aided you in gathering what you need.

She stands on the edge of the clearing now, waiting, watching.

“This is your last chance,” Freyja calls softly and you shake your head. You need to do this, even if you aren’t sure it’ll work, even if it might kill you. Holding out a hand, you close your eyes and blow out a breath between your lips. The wooden handle of your knife is pressed firmly into your palm and you drag the silver tip over your fingers, not cutting the skin.

You toss a glance to your lady aunt, who nods and gathers the two bowls. In them, grinded heartsbane and chopped dragonsroot you’d prepared yourself. She walks to the back of the pyre, throwing them into the flames. 

Immediately, it bursts white, flickers of other colours you’d never seen before burning into your eyes as you walk up the pyre. The wood trembles beneath your bare feet and the fire licks at your skin greedily as you close your eyes. As your skin begins to blister, you stuff down the mortal throes that make you want to scream until you bleed and walk deeper into the fire. 

You can barely see through the white flames and you fall to your knees, blood clotting in your throat as you reach blindly for his body. He is yet untouched, covered in oils and blessings, and his skin is smooth and cold to your touch as you reaffirm your grip on the knife.

Say his name, then your wish. Give your blood, your sweat, your tears. Show them you are worthy. Spirits more powerful than us will decide.

“Loki,” you whisper and the flames twist and flicker. You trail your hand down his shoulder to his chest to the scar on his abdomen you’d tried your hardest to heal. “Come back to me, my love.” A rush of magic, threads of sorcery, run down your arms and flows down the knife, burning orange in the fire. “Come home.” Your teeth clench together and you peel open your eyes.

You are all ash and bones, black peeling skin, blood and tears, and what is left of your strength is visible in the magic that whispers over your skin. Bringing the knife to your stomach, you inhale flames and ash.

Please, bring him home.

And you sheathe the knife in your stomach, in the exact placement as the scar on Loki’s body. Blood rushes forward as you yank the knife out breathlessly. You drop the knife, and it slips between the wood of the pyre.

“It’s not his time,” you whisper through the blood rising in your throat. It bubbles between your lips, burning blue under your skin and you bow your head. Closing your eyes, you let the fire wash over your blackened body and lay down next to your husband. Your hands touch his cool skin, and you sigh blissfully. The air is thick, humid, and a wave of exhaustion hits you.

The simple princess, you think as you fall asleep. There is movement beside you, but you hold Loki closer, eyes shut against the bright white flames that purr against your skin. You think you can feel cold hands touch your waist where silk has burned away, and the fire begin to die. The only one that burns now is the one inside your heart.

Little peach. 

Farmer’s girl.

Yes, that is all I am.

[winter-chill]

Penny The Custom Built Maiden

So let's just kick this into high gear. Penny was built to be a maiden!

Volume 1

Let's start at the beginning, her first appearance is "the Stray" it shows Penny being innocent, new to town and wandering the city alone. Nothing of note (at least not maiden theory worthy). She's here to fight in the tournament, she's combat ready, but this was just a short intro and not really that evidential. Blake and White however... well we see a lot more of Penny. Her intro into the episode is quiet and she just appears. Already though we know a bit about her, that she can tell Blake is a faunus, she's able to read people, maybe not too well emotionally, but she saw past Blake's bow with ease and could just 'tell' which for a Maiden being able to tell a human or faunus apart (or a faunus trait even if hidden) would be useful... though also just for a combat robot it would be useful too.

We also know she's not good with people, which is just pointing to her past being locked up and not able to socialize, so for however long she's been 'alive/active' she's probably just been training, and this kind of hints to the fact that her adventure into Vale is that of a social introduction, to learn about people a little more.

Cut to the WF fight, Ruby stands to talk and Penny is left a little in the dark about who is on her side or not. When Ruby is knocked down though there's basically no delay, Penny goes into combat mode and is ready to fight, to protect who she's seen as good and stop those who oppose them. It's natural, she's smiling, she's trained for situations much much worse than this. What more is there to say besides her incredible firepower is not something you'd give her if you were using her as maybe a test run for a new set of robots, nope she's special and she's equipped to be one of a kind... or maybe one of four?? Once the fight is over Penny is soon driven off, with no goodbye, and  told that she shouldn't have been alone, but that "her time will come" again bringing it back to the upcoming Vytal festival.

Volume 2

So, it's been a couple of episodes and radio silence from Penny until... there she is, out and about, and trying to keep Ruby out of her now routine run-from-the-guards. I can't really point out much else this episode, again everything she does is either hiding from the guards, avoiding questions, or just related more to her secret as an android than as a maiden. Painting the Town though, Penny begins to explain herself. She was made, she's synthetic, she's able to generate and aura. Note 'generating' though, she doesn't use an aura, she generates one, creates it from her real soul, one I believe was created via "A little help from mister Ironwood" being the Atlas Relic, the Relic of Creation. 

Moving on, sure enough people don't think Penny is ready to protect herself, or the world. She said it herself, she was created to save the world, maybe on her own, maybe with 3 sisters? the point is she's been designed to be someone who can save everyone, and considering the other headmasters are all aware of Ozpin (Ozma's) real purpose, his secrets, his relic, and Salem... she surely then must have been designed and built able to ideally stop Salem, or otherwise protect the Relic's from her until someone else can. This conversation goes on to explain that Penny wants to explore the world, and to test herself. As a Maiden this would be important, to know what the world is like, to travel it, to meet people and learn who she is protecting, to give her a genuine and unprogrammed reason to fight, and then to test herself against those who are also training to fight and protect, she needs to best them and prove herself the strongest (which I'll get to more later in V3). That's about it for V2 though, besides showing up at the dance she won't be seen again until V3 so...

Volume 3

So once again we barely see Penny she appears this volume, first showing up following Ironwood, the man cracking down on her absences, and especially so since the festival has begun. This volume though is where we really need to stop looking at Penny, and more towards Oz and Ironwood for hints and clues. We learn about the four seasons tale, about how that is just a fairy-tale about the maidens, but that all tales are based in truth. That there were four children and they were granted powers, that their souls pass on from one to another in death, and that it passes on to... young girls.

During this festival I'd like to jump almost to the end, to the finalists, a few of which represent the several kingdoms, but our attention is always towards Pyrrha and Penny. And for this we need to ask why? Why have the festival? A bit of fun, a way to test students against themselves, and during this year, a way to find the strongest female student. Ozpin of course has Pyrrha, a world renown fighter and experienced combatant, while Ironwood has Penny, a girl with incredible power but still learning about the world. This fight should have been easier and clear cut, but it was actually Ozpin's mistake that threw it off course, telling Pyrrha about the maidens, about Amber, about his intent for her.. given a fair fight either girl had a good chance, but Penny was Ironwood's hope, a girl who was innocent and pure, willingly to see the good in the world and wanting to save it, and with the power to do just that, a body that wouldn't die of age, and would be fixed easier and quicker than any human body would. The only issue was Cinder.

Cinder pushed their fight forwards, and I'm almost certain they were expecting the two of them to be fighting later on, but when their fight showed up early on it was time to see who made the better choice. Emerald intervened, and Penny fell. Again this was unfortunate, Penny was naive and didn't know why this fight was so important, where as Pyrrha was told but it only stressed her more than it did motivate her.

During this all Amber lay under Beacon, inside a machine which could transfer aura, or at least guide it, built with the purpose of transferring the Maiden's aura from one soul to another. A perfect host would have been Penny for this situation. Trying not to repeat myself she was built perfectly, fixable, unaging, able to generate and maintain an aura, be it her own or the aura granted from Amber, all that, and she fit into the mold of being a young girl - Props to Cinder for even catching on here, "What need would Atlas have for a soldier disguised as an innocent little girl? I don't think the Grimm can tell the difference." No of course the grimm can't tell, but a Maiden's aura could. In the end the power though is lost to Cinder, and Penny is left in pieces, but her existence was never answered during this volume, she was more than an experiment, but explicitly no reason was ever given.

Volume 4-6

Unfortunately the next three volumes are lacking, in general they are great, but for Penny not so much. We learn a little more about the maidens, about the original gods, and while I’d love to headcanon more on those and how that leads into Penny... those are more headcanons that support other headcanons, and on their own are kind of void of evidence. We can only hope Volume 7 brings up more facts, info, and Penny news.. I mean we are heading to Atlas after all, it’s now or never RT.