#in MS PAINT for the love of the lord | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scoutsbabygirl · 1 year ago

Note

I would like to see headcanons from you about how your favorite mercenaries realize that they fall in love with the reader :333

🎷🐛

my first request! hi my little meow meow! i wrote for all the mercs bc why not?! fluff below the cut! also written in headcannon form! idk how to write for soldier (i just don't see the appeal)

scout:

-why did ms. pauling have to be lesbian???

-when you came along he was immediately drawn to you, maybe it was because you were new and young

-he's way too cocky around you and acts like he doesn't care about you

-after a stern talking to by spy, jeremy decides to ask you out

-other than sports, jeremy loves to paint and draw and is surprisingly good at it. he asks you to make some art with him and of course he draws you

-this melts your heart and you've fallen for him. he's just waiting for the right time to confess and ask you to be his

soldier:

-man has zhanna

pyro:

-hearing you say "you're all good! no worries!" after he lights the hem of you shirt, almost burning you alive. he feels a spark...literally

-pyro slinks around you where ever you may be. in the kitchen baking? pyros throwing flour all over the kitchen. working out? pyros cheering you on. got some spare time? pyros got some crayons, colored pencils and a bunch of coloring books

-spending time with a masked man that the team fears has him drawn to you. the mercs warned you about him, you never felt intimated by pyro yet understood yet you could understand why he was treated differently

-if you're ever sad he will give you the best comfort. he's never shown himself to the mercs but once he sees you cry the mask is coming off and expect kisses to be planted over you

-its a very intimate moment and he just admits it then. he's never had anyone love him back, he's always been depicted as a monster.

heavy:

- won't approach you first. he waits for you to make a move. he knows his size is intimidating in itself and doesn't want to scare you away.

-he's a gentle giant. he's very careful with his words and movements. he's so paranoid that you'll view him as something he's not on the inside.

- one night you cooked with him and he told you all about his life back home, showed you photos of his sisters and taught you basic russian (assuming you don't know any already)

-if you speak russian he'll be over the moon or if you use the simple russian he's taught you he loves you just a little bit more. he adores your accent when you stumble over certain pronunciation. he knows you're the one for him

-when he decides to confess he handwrites you a long poem with an russian to english translation on two separate pages. after he signs his name he writes that he won't bring this up unless you do

-please don't break his heart. he's so sensitive

demo:

- when he confesses he's drunk as fuck. he doesn't even remember when you bring it up the next day.

-is so embarrassed. he's hungover and groggy. he plays it off by acting defensive. "i was just drunk! i meant nothing by it!"

-in the inside he's freaking out. he wanted to plan it out. it's only been 7 or 8 months since you've been at teufort but he fell so quick for you.

-3am outside pointing at the constellations, telling you about old celtic, scottish myths and folklore, shit talking the other mercs, and an accidental kiss on the lips he caught feeling for you right then and there.

- he's willing to give up scrumpy just to have you reciprocate the same feelings for him. 🤞

engineer:

-lord, he used so many pet names with you; "check this out, sweet pea", "you look beautiful, darling", "i made pancakes, you want any hon?"

-he knows his voice with a combination of his pet names do something to you. he loves when you call him those names back!

-compliment his cooking! bbq is his specialty! he'll gladly eat up anything you make. hungry boi :3

-he loves when you spend time with him in his workshop, working on his little metal trinkets warms his soul. he tries to teach you about the intricate parts of engineering. it's okay if you don't understand, he's more than willing to break it down for you and teach you a bite-sized version quantum mechanics

-friday night. a few beers in. a lot of work finished. "(y/n), i know i'm a bit older and dusty at the whole romance thing but" he pauses "you ain't seeing anyone right now, are you?"

medic:

-he either falls in love with you the second he lays his eyes on you or it takes many, many months for him to catch feelings for you. regardless, of how long the process takes his love for you becomes an obsession.

-you begin lingering around his office, inquiring about his tools and weapons. he finds it very interesting that you're not startled by him and his... unethical ways of "doctor assisted suicide"

-internal battles with his conscience. does he want to rip your organs out and shove them in the wrong places? he wants to slice your arteries one by one. yes, he wants to cut your jugular and see how much you bleed before dying. alas, he won't. you're too beautiful to be cut up into pieces. he doesn't want you to die by his hands, he doesn't know what he would do with himself.

-"guten morgen, wie gehts?!" has him weak. just a simple phrase you've rehearsed a few times. you though he would appreciate you taking time out of your day to learn his native tongue. he thinks this is your way of flirting with it (and perhaps it is).

-occasionally he'll call you into his office, not for a checkup by any means but rather just to chat (on company time). he removes the gloves and runs his hands over the scars on your face and neck. "schätzelein, i have been feeling some way for a while."

sniper:

-he is such a cunt. he's so rude and bitchy to you. his attitude causes you to avoid contact with mick at all costs and he avoids you like the plague. he spends a lot of time in his van anyways so staying away from you isn't too hard.

-seeing you hurt breaks his heart. he decides to visit you in medbay after your broke your arm. the baboo uterus experiment procedure wasn't finished by the time you got hurt. you notice how out of character it is but appreciate it regardless. he brings you a little necklace made with animal teeth (him making jewerly with animal bones is the most canon-noncanon headcanon.)

-after you get a cast you ask him to sign it. next to his name he writes a little heart. then scribbles it out. and draws a skull underneath it.

-butterflies in his stomach when he lays eyes on you. he hates that he's gotten feelings for you. you're his teammate, not his partner. not yet atleast. no? why is he thinking like this.

-it's obvious that mick is touch starved of attention, he want to be validated and appreciated. he's also getting shit from his teammates so when you begin to stand up for him and complimenting him he looses his mind.

"scout, you're being mean. no wonder you have no dad, i would leave too. " "he's not ugly at all. you're old and its evident enough in those wrinkles of yours."

-oh god. who knew a petite little thing like you could spit venom. he wants to tell you how he feels so badly but he doesn't want to loose you as a friend.

spy:

-he'll flirt with you before even developing feelings for you. always trying to court you, inviting you over at late hours. he just wants to get laid tbh.

-you're playing hard to get. it excites him a bit but he's much older now so if anything he's annoyed that you won't sleep with him. he tries being more romantic and pushes idea the idea of getting with you sexually and takes a different approach.

-smoking on his red velvet couch until the sun begins to rise, sharing cigs together. he has a small stash of weed (he stole it from scout) but coughs when he smokes it, earning a plethora of giggles from you. now he's smiling and laughing with you despite his lungs being filled with smoke.

-stacks of guy de maupassant on his table near the red couch, he reads the love poems to you and translates it to you. please snuggle up into his chest and try to read the french words yourself. your pronunciation is horrible and your accent is awful. you sound so cute yet so pathetic at the same time.

-he tries to keep his feelings hidden for as long as he can. of course, it slips out. he's stopped wearing the balaclava when around you (and only you, even his own son doesn't know what he truly looks like) so the bright red blush is evident on his face. he tries taking back what he said but there's no use as your already face first into his chest.

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chairofchaos · 5 months ago

Text

Letters of Love: Part I

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: “The love story of Eris and Azriel Vanserra is a tale for the ages. Their story is best told through their letters to one another and their family in the first year of their mated union. In this new newest edition, their letters are joined by excerpts of Eris Vanserra’s journal entries, as newly released by the Vanserra family.” - from the summary, “Letters of Love”

A work in which Eris and Azriel’s slightly tumultuous love story is explored through interviews, letters, and journal entries.

Rating: Explicit (not in this chapter so much, but in later parts definitely)

Word Count: 8.5k (roughly)

A/N: Got an idea, had a breakdown, bon appetit! We’ll call this my contribution to @azrisweek for Contact Day. If formatting is messy, it’s because I wrote and edited this entire thing on mobile in the span of 24 hours.

A HUGE thank you must be extended to @ninthcircleofprythian, to whom I dedicate this part of Letters of Love. This is entirely owed to her ideas. Thank you especially for accepting my all-caps freak outs that have spawned 8,500-odd words in the last 24 hours. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you for your ideas, and your support of my insanity. Enjoy, have a gold star, and enjoy the extra thousand words of Eris’ journal at the end!

Letter from the Editor

Eris and Azriel Vanserra, the famed High Lords of Autumn, were not always the lockstep, solid foundations we now think them to be. This new edition of Letters of Love is the story of two great tacticians, strategists, and politicians from two previously antagonistic courts, and their journey from enmity to long-lasting marriage. The new inclusion of journal entries recently released by the Vanserra family adds a new dimension of personal thoughts by the Heir of Autumn.

The compilation of letters and anecdotes contained herein were requested by Eris Vanserra toward the end of his life. He wished to have something to pass on to his children as a reminder of the great love that he and Azriel had shared, and all that had transpired in the first year of their life together. It is no doubt that the volume was also of some comfort to him at the end of his life. The loss of his mate some hundred years earlier had significantly weakened the Vanserra heir. Their three children acknowledged after Eris’ passing that the loss of Azriel had been one from which their father never truly recovered.

Other volumes will contain details of the years following their mating ceremony and the immediate challenges they faced upon being mated, but it is this one that their eldest son Carmine assembled at his father’s request. The letters, generously provided by the courts of Autumn, Night, and Day, continue to paint a vivid picture of the High Lords in the tumultuous years following the war with Hybern, the birth of the Cauldron-born Archeron High Ladies and their own mates, and the defeat of Koschei. It was in that final conflict with Koschei that Eris Vanserra became High Lord of Autumn. Whether it was a blow dealt by the heir or by the death god himself, we will leave to you to decide, as its relevance to the subject matter contained within is only passing.

It is our hope that this new edition of Letters of Love is as enthralling as the ones which have come before. May your fires be warm, and your shadows a comfort.

***

Introduction from the First Edition

By Carmine Vanserra

Dear Reader,

Within the pages you hold are the proof of my fathers’ love for each other. Their life together was a happy one, though it was frequently troubled. It is no secret that for a great many centuries they were no more friendly than two bucks fighting over some perceived slight in the forest. The love that grew between them with maturity and age gave significant weight to that excellent phrase of Ms. Sellyn Drake: “The line between hated and love is a fine one, indeed.”

I would be remiss not to acknowledge the origins of this book. It was my father, Eris Vanserra, who requested its compilation just three years before his death. Greatly weakened by the loss of his mate some years before, he found himself more prone to reminiscing about the events of life. The love he had for my father Azriel was, to him, the greatest of all the happenings in a centuries-long life. It was their story which was told to my siblings and I at bedtime; their tales of misadventures and romance which in turn encouraged our own hearts to love.

Despite these joys, the truth must out. Their life was not always a happy one. This small volume tells but one fragment of their story. Perhaps other writers and historians will have opportunities to explore the full history of their life. It will not be me. This assignment, which my father set me to centuries ago, inspired a great many works and my own life’s work of the exploration of the true romances of history. It was this initial work which inspired the birth of my own publishing house, Leaf Bridge, and to write my many books. I would find it the greatest personal failing if, as I now depart from the ink scented office of my printing house, I did not publish the work which inspired this building and the work we do in it.

With the full consent and understanding of my siblings and other relevant parties, I am thankful to offer you at last the full story of my fathers’ love.

I must extend my gratitude to Lord Nyx Moonbeam, whose initial hesitation easily gave way to understanding and even joy upon hearing what we sought to do with this published edition. Nyx, my most beloved friend and confidant: as these letters and this story have graced our personal libraries and lives for centuries, I hope it will so grace the homes and hearths of your court. May it bring them the same joy and richness of life that it brought us.

I must thank also my cousin, Lady Flora, whose permission of access to the libraries and records of Day Court has been indispensable. I am especially sorry that your mother did not live to see the volume in its published format, as she was instrumental in the early research and saving of the letters contained within. It is very likely she saw me write this letter some time ago. Only she could know, so thank you, Aunt Elain.

One last thank you to the living must be extended to my eldest sister. Lady Arbora, without your arduous notes, Symphonia recordings, and truly obsessive nature for details of the smallest order, we would have no record of many of Papa’s thoughts and feelings of these early years. The transcripts of your thorough interrogations of both Father and Papa made it possible for this volume to tell a complete story using their words. Annoying as I may have found your obsession when we were young, I now realize that we all owe you the deepest debt of gratitude, and none more than I.

To the deceased: Aunt Feyre, Uncle Rhysand, Uncle Lucien, Aunt Elain, Aunt Nesta, Uncle Cassian, my brother, Ash, and to all of those whose names have been forgotten to time and ignorance, we the living offer you our heartfelt gratitude for all you made possible for Eris and Azriel.

Eris and Azriel, my fathers. To you, we offer the greatest debt of thanks. May this collection bring you honor and peace.

***

LETTERS OF LOVE

Day One

Letters:

Dear Lord Eris,

You are cordially invited to visit Rhysand and I at our home in Velaris this week-end. There will be a small tour of the city, if you wish it. Dinner will be provided. Please arrive at 4.

Sincerely yours,

Lady Feyre

***

Dear Lady Feyre,

I look forward to attending. What further details can you provide? And please, stop calling me Lord.

Sincerely,

Eris Vanserra

***

Transcript from Interview:

Arbora: What did Aunt Feyre say when you asked her that?

Eris (amused): Arbora, I have told this story before.

Arbora: It’s not funny, Father.

Azriel: It’s a little funny, sweetheart. Go on, Ere.

Eris: Well, she told me that dinner would be at 6 in the River House. It would be my first visit where I was allowed to see where your aunt, uncle, and cousin actually lived.

Arbora: That would be Uncle Rhysand, Aunt Feyre, and Nyx.

Eris: Yes.

Arbora: Anything else?

Eris: Yes. She let me know that Cassian and Nesta would be out of town, though Azriel would likely be in attendance along with their immediate family. She also provided some details about where exactly to winnow, though I can’t say I really remember those.

Azriel: You were to winnow to the outskirts of Velaris near the base of the House of Wind stairs. Rhys was supposed to bring you the rest of the way. I changed it to see how you would react.

Eris: I’m sure you’re right.

Together, Azriel (normally) & Arbora (mockingly): I usually am.

[all laugh]

Azriel [with affection]: Smartass.

Arbora: Sorry, Papa.

Eris: We love you. Though that’s all the time we have for tonight, I’m afraid.

[End Interview]

Day Two

Letters:

Dear Azriel,

I’m sorry for writing, though I will admit I was hesitant to wake you. My powers are drained, as are Rhys’. We’re fine here, but we’re going to need to do some more work in Windhaven before returning and I doubt we will be home in time for dinner. It’s unfortunate, since Eris is expected, but Rhys and I don’t want to share with him exactly what’s going on.

Will you take over the dinner? Nuala and Cerridwen have the meal fully in hand. He’s to winnow to the base of the House of Wind, though you could write to him with other arrangements. I also offered him a tour of the city, which I planned to do myself. Perhaps the Rainbow would be a safe bet?

I don’t want to put you under any stress. Delegate your other things, please. We’d like this relationship to continue between Night and Autumn, so consider this your top priority until the end of the night.

Thank you, Az.

Love,

Feyre

***

Dear Feyre,

Not to sound too much like your son, but, do I absolutely have to? Will it be just the two of us for dinner? You do remember the first time you saw Eris and I go at each other’s throats, yes?

Love (though I’m not happy about this),

***

Dear Azriel,

You do sound remarkably like Nyx when you ask things like that. Though it could be said he sounds a bit like his father, though don’t tell Rhys I said that.

Yes, it will just be the two of you. Nesta and Cassian are still on the continent. Amren’s visit with Varian began today, and since they haven’t seen each other in a month, I would suggest avoiding the apartment at all costs. I’m not sure why you would care for her backup with Eris, but just in case you were desperate? Don’t go to her. Everyone else is here, as you know, and very needed. If it wasn’t for Eris coming, I’d have you here, too. As I said, Nuala and Cerridwen are taking care of the meal, so you’ll just need to handle the tour and making sure you’re back in time for dinner.

I remember that meeting well, thank you. Do me a favor and let’s try not to have a repeat. I promise you a huge favor when we get back. Name the price. I’ll even see if I can get Rhys to leave Nyx in your care for a day without interruption. Exercises in trust, and all. Speaking of, let’s attempt to not repeat history. Please keep in mind the importance of this visit for the relations between our court and Autumn.

With love, even when you aren’t happy with me,

Feyre

P.S. - Brother, I owe you. Though I can’t say I’ll hand over my son for a whole day, no matter how much I love and trust you. I love him more. I’d miss him. Be civil. Send us a report once it’s over. And whatever you do, don’t hit him first. - Rhys

***

Dear High Lord and High Lady,

It is with great pleasure- fuck it I’m not writing this formally. You both know I don’t like writing these. If you hate it, give the writing job to someone else. I’ll train them if it means I don’t have to do this anymore.

I changed the location of pickup to see how he would react. It didn’t seem to bother him one bit. Probably because he knew I was just trying to annoy him a bit. I picked him up at the border of Night instead, and teleported him to the River House. I figured we could start a tour from there.

From the River, we walked through all four palaces. I gave explanations of why they were called what they were, and their wares. He called the bridges “unique” and “beautiful,” and couldn’t seem to stop staring at the cliffs. He seemed almost enamored with them.

He had very little to say about Velaris otherwise, though he asked any shopkeeper we came across questions about their wares or other things to engage them in conversation. He almost seemed like he was genuinely curious. He bought one or two little things in the Rainbow.

Dinner was uncomfortable. With just the two of us, the River House dining room felt opulent, but we persisted. We kept conversation to a minimum. Nuala and Cerridwen excelled, as usual, and he spoke to them briefly following the meal, in which he sang their praises.

When dinner had finished, I offered him a look at the portraits in the main hall or the gardens outside. He chose portraits, so I let him wander the entryway. He stared at them. For some reason, mine seemed to be of particular interest. Feyre, it occurred to me that he may actually make a good subject for a portrait if relations are ever good enough and you could convince him to sit for you. My shadows had nothing to say in his favor or to his detriment, though they did seem to like swirling around his chair during dinner.

I took him outside the city again, and he winnowed home. Nothing notable. He seemed peaceful. He didn’t mention your absence- thank you for not leaving that explanation to me.

I’ll see you soon.

Azriel

***

Dear Azriel,

Thank you for the visit today. It was delightful to see the city in the evening, and to be able to walk its streets for the first time. Please extend my thanks to Rhysand and Feyre. Their home is lovely, fitting for a city like Velaris. It truly is, as my brother said, a Court of Dreams. I am grateful to have been able to experience all of its beauty in the evening light.

Thank you also for your courtesy in sharing the history of the the city and the previously secret history of the Night Court. It was a privilege to hear, especially since you clearly have extensive knowledge on the matter.

Sincerely,

Eris Vanserra

***

Lucien,

I have a matter of urgency to discuss with you. Please come tomorrow morning.

Eris

***

Eris,

My mate is days away from giving birth. Forgive me this frankness, but I’m not leaving her for a minute and I don’t want you here until this is all over. Write to me instead. Whatever it is can’t be that bad or you would have just showed up.

Lucien

***

Lucien,

I had a visit to Velaris yesterday. It went perfectly, from a diplomatic standpoint, though the only one present was Azriel. Everyone else had been called away to an emergency in Windhaven. I received no explanation for the extent, or the nature of the issue, but I believe it to be extensive. I was invited to explore the city. Azriel was beside me, or close behind, through the whole city. To his credit, he spoke well of the city and its history.

At one point, I was in awe of the cliffs and mountains- you’ve been there, so you know how impressive they are. The way the city is built into the hills is truly incredible. I was looking up while walking, and I tripped on a cobblestone. (I wouldn’t tell you that unless it was incredibly important, and trust that given the circumstances, you will never mention it again.) Azriel caught me by the wrist and the upper arm and hoisted me straight again.

I cannot believe what I am about to say, but I believe Azriel is my mate. The second his hand was on mine, I felt a tug in my sternum pulling me towards him. He gave no indication he felt it.

Luc, my hand burned when I pulled away from him. It was like his hand had lit me on fire- and not the kind that can be controlled, not even by us. I had to flex it to get the feeling to go away even a little. It grew in awkwardness from there. I had the good fortune to be able to hold my tongue, unlike you, so if I hid it well, he won’t know.

I do not know what to do. Please, I have never asked you for anything more valuable to me than this.

Eris

***

Eris,

Elain says to come over. We have tea. Apparently babies like drama too. Helion is aware you’re coming, but not why. Pack a bag so you can stay the night. And Elain says to be nice to me or she’ll tell you something horrible that may or may not be true.

Lucien

***

Luc,

I’ll be there in ten minutes. Please ask your mate to never do that again. The last horror was enough to keep me awake for two days.

Eris

Transcript from Interview:

Azriel: The shadows brought me the letter. At the time, the standard was for one or two of them to place letters on the counter for me to deal with them. But this one, not marked as urgent or hasty, arrived in the morning the day after Fath - I mean, Eris, had visited Night.

The shadows had brought me his letter from the night before as well. I chalked it up to it being a professional correspondence and after reading it, sent it to Rhys and Feyre to pass on his gratitude at their hospitality and the loveliness of their home. The shadows did seem uncharacteristically eager.

[End Interview]

Day Three

Letters, Part I:

Dear Azriel,

You are invited to join me in Autumn this afternoon at 3 for a tour of my orchard, with dinner to follow. The orchard is the source of the fruits for the cider you enjoyed on your last visit. I thought you may enjoy seeing it, and wanted to return the hospitality you offered me in Velaris.

Please let me know if you are able to come.

Sincerely,

Eris Vanserra

***

Dear Eris,

Thank you for the invitation. I will come.

Sincerely,

Azriel

***

Rhys,

I’ve been invited to Autumn for a tour of Eris’ orchard. I accepted because I knew you would tell me to. I’ll be gone this evening.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Good. Keep us updated. And please wear something nicer than leathers.

Rhys

***

Rhys,

I have just returned from Autumn. You’ll be pleased to know I wore sensible boots with a nicer pair of pants and a crisp white shirt. Not that it really matters.

I have no words for what happened. Please understand this is only being sent to you because I may have royally fucked up and wanted you to know in case it affects court relations.

I went to join Eris for the tour of the orchard. It was exceptional. Beautiful. Well organized. We were walking side by side down the rows. Eris was explaining the trees, the cultivation of their apples, and the importance of keeping the varieties separated. We moved into a neighboring field with smaller trees, and the rows were closer together. It got so narrow I moved to let Eris walk in front and his hand brushed mine. Well, really his signet ring brushed my hand, and I jolted and almost fell into one of the trees.

Rhys. I don’t even know what to say but… it felt good. It felt like warmth wrapped around my heart and PULLED. I don’t know how else to explain it. I didn’t know what to do. I balked and immediately shot into the air then let my shadows carry me back here. I don’t think I know what to do. Fuck, I said I wanted a mating bond. This feels like a cruel joke.

But what if there’s a reason? What if it’s good? What if I just ran and fucked things up so badly that he never wants to speak to me again? I don’t even know if he noticed what made me run- he didn’t look surprised. He just looked stoic, even as he watched me fly away.

What the fuck do I do? Why HIM? I don’t know where to go from here. I’m sorry if this creates problems for you.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Unfortunately, you have to go fix this. I don’t know what he felt, whether he felt it or not. I care, but as High Lord, you know I can’t put this over the court relations. You abruptly leaving a diplomatic exchange is something I can’t explain away or excuse. Go fix it. Tomorrow at the latest. We’ve spent years working with Eris in order to improve our relations. I’m sorry, Azriel, but I cannot allow this, no matter how personal, to interfere with that tenuous bond.

Rhys

***

Azriel,

Rhys shared your letter with me. I helped him write his letter, but wanted to add a few things. Do what he said though. I agree we need this connection of courts. You will need to address this.

To the personal aspect: I won’t say congratulations, though I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. Nesta is always commenting on how the line between love and hate is razor thin or something of that nature. I think it’s a quote from one of her books. It’s proved to be true a few times, I think.

Azriel, you have to try. If the Cauldron thinks Eris is the best one for you, you owe it to yourself to try. You’ve frequently noted to Rhys and I how happy we all are. Offer yourself that same chance. If you don’t try, you will likely come to regret it. I hope you will go to him, not just to fix things for us, but to see for yourself if there is the chance of affection and love.

All my love,

Feyre

***

Feyre,

Tell Rhys I’ll go. After all the things I’ve said to Eris, how could he love me? How could he forgive me that? I cannot see how it would be possible. I will fix what I can. I also won’t pretend to have any hope here.

Azriel

***

Azriel,

You do remember how my courtship with Rhys started? I despised him. I hit him over the head with a shoe. He had done things with and to me under the mountain that he regretted deeply. We got over it. If we could, so can you two. I also notice that you are concerned only with what you have done, not what Eris has done to you. From my understanding, your relationship to this point has been equally antagonistic. I wonder if he may be having the same self-deprecating thoughts?

Feyre

***

Feyre,

Yes, I remember. But throwing a shoe at someone is a little different than telling someone you have proof of his efforts to kill his father and you won’t hesitate to use it if it means Beron removes Eris from the equation. Not to mention the knowledge that I threatened him with exposing his mother’s affair with Helion if he stepped out of line not long after that.There’s no coming back from something like that.

Azriel

***

Az,

All you can do is try. Go. Fix it. You can do this.

Feyre

***

Lucien,

He found out. We were walking to the dinner table- I hadn’t mentioned the bond yet, or that we’d eat dinner in the orchard. Our hands brushed and it must have snapped for him. He nearly took out one of the trees. I think if he hadn’t stabilized himself with his wings he would have.

He flew away. I’ve never seen such a look of panic on his face. One or two of his shadows lingered reluctantly- I wonder what they know, if their will is separate from their master’s or if there was some part of him that wanted to stay and that will kept them there a moment or two longer. He glanced over his shoulder as he left. I couldn’t even see his face.

Regardless, he is gone. I don’t expect him back. I can’t push him to return. I can’t imagine after these years of enmity that he would bother. I can’t even blame him for it. We’ve said despicable things to one another. I’ve threatened his family more times than I can count. I’ve dressed his brothers down publicly, decade after decade, sometimes to their faces, sometimes behind their backs. It’s a tenuous starting point for even court relations, let alone a mating bond.

I cannot imagine that this would work.

Eris

***

Eris,

Elain says you deserve to try. I am inclined to agree. You meant to talk to him, so invite him, clearly this time. Clear intentions. You do still have dinner on the table, don’t you? You never ate well when you were nervous.

Lucien

***

Lucien (and Elain, apparently),

I suppose it can’t hurt. He’ll probably show up at some point anyways. Might as well try to temper the reaction however I can.

Eris

***

Dear Azriel,

I am writing to inform you that I was aware of the revelation you have just experienced. The bond snapped for me yesterday when you kept me from falling in Velaris. I wasn’t sure how you would react, or if there was any possibility of affection. I also knew it would be easier for you to leave from here, as you just did, than it would be for me to walk out of Night without you.

If you would like to discuss this, I will be in the orchard. I had planned to share what I knew with you at dinner, and had dinner waiting on the table here in the orchard. It is just a few rows away from where we were. If you would like to join me to discuss this, I will be here until midnight. If you decide to join me some other day, please write first. I’d prefer to have this conversation in private, to allow us to speak freely without concern of courts or politic.

If I may be so bold, I hope you will come.

Yours,

Eris

Entry from the Journal of Eris Vanserra:

He left. I hadn’t realized how hopeful I was until he was flying away. I couldn’t see his face except in that one last glance over his shoulder- not granting me even one last look at the beauty contained within. It was too much to hope for. I suppose 24 hours of hope is all I could have hoped for. I’m sitting at the table now, wishing he was across from me. Lucien was right. I haven’t touched a bite. I feel too sick to even try.

It was foolish of me to dream of him last night. I stood on the balcony before I even retired, thinking of the way he had looked at me before he realized. Did he notice the unguarded open stares I couldn’t help but look at him with?

I can’t say it hadn’t occurred to me before: the way he might look leaning in to kiss me, the way he would have held me. It is not a possibility I had even considered until last night.

Last night, walking in Velaris, it was all I could do to focus on the people around us, the city noises. He was beside me, calm and less menacing than usual. He was a good guide. He knew the answers to every question I had. But the bond snapped and I found that I wasn’t surprised at all. I hadn’t realized how much affection had grown on my part in these last years, how much I admired the way he is.

If walking around Velaris was hard, dinner was agony. I could look across the table and see him, see his shadows swirling around him. I could feel them watching me, feel them darting around my chair as if they were nervous to get too close. But Azriel seemed calm, unaffected. He hadn’t seemed to notice any change in me.

Lucien convinced me to invite him today. I agreed. I’m going to kill my brother for that. What an idiotic idea. Here I am, alone.

The shadows lingered as Azriel left. They curled in my hair and around my wrists and ankles, and brushed against my cheek. They had never been so brazen with me. They were cool, like little brushes of a breeze against my skin. I can’t bear it. I couldn’t bear it when they disappeared with him. It was a loss I didn’t expect. It hurt more than I have the words for, losing that lingering fragment of him.

I was going to tell him. I didn’t know what else to do. So I’m sitting here at the table where I had hoped to confess. If I had held it in I could imagine the rage he would fly into when he found out. It would not have helped for there to be secrets. Not about this. This table, this entire meal is pointless without him here. It’s no use pretending I’m not breaking at this loss of a chance. The bond is eerily still. I do not dare touch it in case it shatters to pieces.

I will wait. Just like I said. Likely for longer than I said. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to let this go. I just hope he will forgive me for loving-

Transcript from Interview:

Azriel: The note he sent me made it easier to go back. I felt better knowing he knew. Somehow that made it easier than if I had had to break the news to him myself. I didn’t hesitate long after getting it. It was probably half an hour before I got the courage to show up. It was nearing sundown and I didn’t want him to give up.

Arbora: How did you feel?

Azriel: Anxious. Mostly because it could go so sideways for so many reasons. I didn’t know what to expect.

Arbora: Walk me through the evening.

Azriel: I teleported to where I had left from. Since I was right back where I was before, I just had to follow Eris’ footprints through the trees to find where he was. He was sitting with his back to me, scribbling furiously in his journal. I didn’t know that at the time, of course. But I noticed he was writing like it would kill him if he didn’t.

It wasn’t easy to walk up to him. The second he heard me he slammed the journal shut and stood. I don’t think I had ever seen him this disheveled. His hair was unbound, and he looked shocked I had even come.

Arbora: Who spoke first?

Azriel: He did. I didn’t know what to say. He seemed to regain some control and he asked me to sit. I think of the two of us, he was more worried about the personal. I had come with the intention to repair court bonds. He didn’t seem to care about that as much as the personal.

Arbora: How did the conversation go?

Azriel: I think he started. He told me how he had realized. I interjected to talk about-

Arbora: [interjecting] Papa. Details, please.

Azriel: Right. Sorry, sweetheart. [sighs] He explained the way the bond had snapped when I had grabbed him to keep him from falling. He told me he knew it was a surprise, but that he didn’t mind. He started to let me know he didn’t expect anything from me but that he wanted to be clear he was open to exploring it and I just… exploded a little. He seemed too calm, too steady. It was as though he was suppressing everything just to control what he could. It unsettled me.

I couldn’t understand why he didn’t seem interested in talking about what this might mean for his court, and I told him so. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look he gave me. He hadn’t met my eyes since he started talking, and in hindsight, I think he was probably fidgeting with his jacket cuffs under the table. You know how he does that in meetings when he’s anxious.

But he looked at me, really looked at me. He paused, and just said, “You cannot expect me to put my court first in this conversation. Not when you’re sitting in front of me. Not when I haven’t breathed easily since yesterday.”

It… [lengthy pause] It broke me, a little bit. He had never been so open, so directive in such a vulnerable way. It shook me. I don’t think the night would have gone the way it did if we hadn’t had that moment.

Arbora (quietly): Keep going.

Azriel: He waited while I gathered some thoughts and pieced together a sentence or two, telling him I was sorry I had left the way I did. That I was surprised, and alarmed. I told him what Rhys had said, that I had to come back to mend things between the courts, to repair anything that had been broken. And when I saw how it seemed to hurt him, this implication that I was only there to fix things, I admitted that I had wanted Rhys to force me back.

It was true. I did. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but if Rhys hadn’t have forced me back I would have run and kept running. But I admitted it to Eris. Somehow it was easier to admit to him than to myself, and to tell him how it scared me because I recognized what a monumental thing this was. It must have been the right thing to say, because he looked more relieved than hurt after that.

He asked me frankly if I wanted the bond. I told him honestly that I thought I did, but also that I was nervous about what it may mean. I asked him if he wanted it, and he just pursed his lips and looked away. I waited him out. I thought it was the only way he would answer me. But he didn’t, verbally.

Instead, he shoved about a million emotions down the bond- relief, anger, pain, desperation, sadness. So much sadness. It wasn’t mournful, it was more… desperate. He’ll hate that I said it that way, but that’s what it felt like to me. It was agonizing, to sit there, feeling what he was feeling. I was taken aback by the strength of his emotions, and found my own deepening in kind.

“I want this. I want you,” he finally said. His voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t hear him.

“Are you certain?” I asked him. He said he did, and I think I nodded in response. Your father hardly told me anything after that. He asked me if I was willing to try, to give it a shot. Then he offered me dinner.

I didn’t think about it before accepting. I didn’t even consider that this meal could be acceptance of the bond. I’ve wondered since if he knew what he was doing. He insists he didn’t, but I am not entirely sure I believe him.

Arbora: Would that be something he would have done?

Azriel: It’s not out of the question. I’m sure you’ve noticed your father is a tricky male, Arbora. It’s one of the things I continue to be surprised by- and amused. Make no mistake, I love his trickery. It’s endearing. It always has been, if I am truthful. Something about the way he schemed to make his court a better place…

Anyway, his argument is usually that since he didn’t make the food and he didn’t intend it at the beginning that this would be food to offer as an offer to accept the mating bond that he didn’t even consider what might happen, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have at least hoped.

Arbora: How did you feel when you realized?

Azriel: I felt peaceful. I think that’s what made me realize most of all, that he seemed pleased but surprised, and nervous about what I would say. I just felt peace. It was as though I knew it was right, even in the face of all the challenges it might present.

There’s no denying I’d considered what he would be like before. You’re an adult, I’m going to say this even though it’s a bit… risqué. But I’d considered what it would be like to bed him. And there was always more to that than just fantasy.

Arbora (sarcastically): Thanks for that.

Azriel: No problem. I’ll spare you the details. The realization was like making a breakthrough in training- the way you’ve fought to gain a skill, and then all at once, it clicks and you realize you can do it. It was like that. I didn’t see my feelings until all at once, they were there, big and powerful.

Arbora: Following that realization, what did you do?

Azriel: Arbora, after you just thanked me for holding details you may wish to rephrase that question.

Arbora: Ah- Okay. Um.

Azriel: Don’t worry. I’m teasing. We went to Eris’ private residence. He winnowed us. We took a couple of minutes to just let the people we needed to talk to know that we would be unavailable for the next few days. And we talked. A lot. Admittedly, probably more than most newly mated couples. Though I assume most of them would have had head conversations before hand.

Arbora: What did you talk about?

Azriel: The past. We discussed the things we had said to one another. The insults we had traded and threats we made. We also did typical newly-mated things. Again, I won’t lie to you. You asked for unabridged honesty. So we rotated between bed and living room, dining room for brief meals before sitting on the couch and talking, then moving back to the bedroom. It was six days of torture, because we had so much to talk about but it wasn’t what we really wanted to be talking about or doing, but it was things we had to get out of the way first. We wanted to enjoy it.

Arbora: Can you expand on that?

Azriel: Well, the things we talked about were unpleasant. They were emotional. Highly charged. Occasionally, Eris would step out for an hour, though he swore it was the last thing he wanted to do. With Lucien unavailable to help, he wanted to keep things under control in the court and since he hadn’t given the full reason for his absence, he didn’t want to draw too much attention, so there were a few meetings he said he absolutely couldn’t miss. It was a bit brutal.

Arbora: What was the reasoning behind keeping it quiet?

Azriel: I was spymaster of Night Court. He was High Lord of Autumn, and in the grand scheme of things, relatively recently crowned. Night and Autumn historically did not have a good relationship, and our immediate families had been the poster child for that dysfunction. It could have been a disaster if we had publicly stepped out in those first few months.

Arbora: How did your families take it?

[End Interview]

Letters, Part II:

Feyre,

I’m going to ask you to share this with Rhys. I can’t do it myself. I don’t know how to explain the events of the last 4 hours.

I’m mated to Eris. It was quick, and sudden. I’m happy about it. I need a few days. I won’t disclose anything that could put Night in danger- I hope you both know I would never do that. I’m sure he’ll be equally careful with Autumn. And we’ll need to talk about all of this. I know it complicates things. I’m sorry about that. But I can’t say I’m sorry we’re mated. It wouldn’t be true.

Thank you, and Rhys, for pushing me to come. I’m very grateful that you did.

Love,

Azriel

***

Azriel,

Well. I suppose now I can say: Congratulations! I’m glad you’re happy. I’ll let Rhys write you himself once I tell him. He’s with Cassian now. I’m assuming you’ll want to tell Cassian yourself, so I won’t trouble you with that.

Enjoy your time. I’ll make sure no one bothers you. And say hello to Eris for me.

Love,

Feyre

***

Cassian,

I wanted you to hear it from me. I’d appreciate it if this could stay between us- Rhys and Feyre know, and you can tell Nesta once she promises not to tell the other Valkyries.

I’m mated. It was almost as much a surprise to me as I’m sure it will be to you. My mate is Eris. Yes, that Eris. Yes, I am aware that he is High Lord of Autumn, and that we have had several very public fights. Yes, I do remember what Helion said about “being his new fantasy” and I also remember you teasing me about it afterwards.

I am sure you have about as many questions as I do right now, so let’s just leave it at that for now. I’ll be gone for the next few days. When I come home, I’ll answer as many questions as you want.

Azriel

***

Lucien,

Thank you for your advice these last few days. I’m going to take a few days off. Write if Elain has the baby. I’ll be otherwise occupied, but I’ll come when I can. Azriel and I will be at the Acorn in case of emergencies, but if anyone asks, you have no idea where I am.

Details to follow.

Eris

***

Dear Eris,

You forgot to include me in the salutation again. Don’t forget, I see things you don’t. It’s your duty as my brother-in-law to keep me informed, especially while I’m on bed rest. It doesn’t matter how much I see, I still want to hear every detail from you when you two are done with your little getaway. How you ended up going from pining agony (don’t bother pretending otherwise) to very near mated bliss in three days will be a tale for the ages. And a vespertine confession of feelings? Very romantic.

Lucien says congratulations. I’m sure he’ll write later. Feel free to ignore him. It can be his turn to be ignored, for once. He’s running himself to the ground trying to keep me comfortable when all I really want is to have him next to me until I have this baby. Anyways, tell Azriel we say hello. You’ll have to come for dinner soon and introduce him to the baby. I’m sure he or she will be here by the time you two can make it to us.

Affectionately,

Elain

***

Dear Elain,

I’m assuming you’ll have heard from Lucien, but if you have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t worry. It’s nothing serious.

Love,

Feyre

***

Dear Feyre,

Oh I know very well what you’re talking about. Not to mention, I knew before they did. Pesky stubborn males. I told you to keep Cassian and Nesta away. Aren’t you glad you did?

Elain

***

My tricky sister,

You’re just as bad as them when it comes to being pesky and stubborn. Don’t forget the promises you made me in order to convince me to keep C & N away. Thought I can’t say I’m disappointed with the result. Azriel wrote me- he seems glad.

Love,

Feyre

***

My equally tricky sister,

I won’t forget my promise. You were always going to be a godmother, though, I don’t know why you didn’t consider that I would make you one in the first place. Of course, with Azriel now mated to Eris, the godfather is now up for debate…it might please Lucien for his brother to be involved. (Kidding. That was already decided, too. It’ll just be one more way to keep Eris close and involve him in the family. Be happy. And don’t tell Rhys yet.)

Azriel is more grateful than he has likely let on. Don’t bug him too much if you can help it, and once your powers are recovered, don’t let Rhys egg him on.

Love you more,

Elain

Entry from the Journal of Eris Vanserra:

My god, he is a good lover.

***

Day three since we were mated. I love him. I love him so much. It’s been agonizing, and beautiful. I wish I had known how much I would feel from him down the bond. The bond is alive. It’s spinning, twining us closer at every moment. I told him I had a meeting, which is true. I just am taking ten extra minutes to write, to remember this feeling.

Azriel is everything I hoped my mate would be. Male, for one. But he’s gentle. He’s kind. He’s passionate about his family, and his court. He’s protective of them, too, and already that protectiveness has extended to me.

I went to get a new glass of water last night after he had fallen asleep, and when I turned from the sink, he was standing in the doorway looking concerned as he scanned the room.

“Are you alright?” He asked. His brows were furrowed, and I found myself admiring the wrinkle that made between them. When I nodded, he relaxed, but huffed grumpily. “I was worried when you were gone,” he admitted. He crossed to hold me, pulling me against his bare chest. Azriel apparently likes to be naked. A lot. I don’t mind. Not at all.

I told him I was fine and that I was sorry to have worried him. He just tangled his hands in my hair and pulled my head from his shoulder to kiss me. And what a kiss it was: firm, gentle. Teasing, then sweet. This male is addictive. He should be illegal. And he’s mine. My mate. My love.

I told him yesterday that I had been in love with him for longer than I could say. He admitted he hadn’t acknowledged it until the bond snapped, but part of the reason he ran was because it was forcing him to confront things he already knew. He apologized extensively for the threats, but seemed even more apologetic about the antagonism he had displayed. He blamed it on an abundance of feelings he didn’t know what to do with. I would say that it was a bad excuse, but since it’s the only one I can think of to excuse my own behavior, I said nothing. We always did rile each other more than anyone else.

Still, each conversation, each apology, each remembrance of ways we had wronged each other brought up things we weren’t proud of, and with it, floods of emotions we had to handle. I don’t think either of us were expecting to burst into tears when Azriel confessed how a few months ago, he had started having nightmares about the way he threatened me at that High Lords’ meeting and the look I had in my eyes- “as though you expected it. As if you thought you deserved it,” he said.

We’re falling apart a little bit. But we’re also putting each other back together. That’s not to say I don’t feel awkward half the time. I don’t know him, not really. Every kiss, every whisper of affection comes with the knowledge that I don’t know what his favorite color is (it’s yellow) or that I didn’t even know until this morning that his mother was alive and a part of his life. He wrote her a letter, telling her he would come visit in a couple of weeks. He didn’t mention whether he wanted me to come with him, or if Rhys would even allow me into Night. Frankly, I wouldn’t know if Azriel even knows if he wants me there.

Still, every kiss… When I winnowed us here two days ago, I winnowed us to the outskirts of the Acorn house lawn. He looked at it and understanding rang in his eyes: this was a place I kept quiet. His wings tucked tight into his back as he looked at me, waiting for me to lead. So I did, walking across the lawn as leaves crunched beneath our feet, disturbing the serene silence of our stowaway.

We reached the door, and I found him hovering over my shoulder as I opened the door.

He choked my name, and I spun, worried someone was there, that we would be disturbed before we had even had the chance to know each other. Azriel was looking at me, heat in his eyes. His jaw twitched, and he opened his mouth to say something before slamming it shut again. He looked so beautiful- the darkness of night falling around him, the last hints of light peeking through the leaves and the membranes of his wings.

How had I never noticed how beautiful his wings were? I stared at him openly, admiring him, and found myself thankful for the fact that this male stood with me, on the doorstep of my home. I almost said so, but he moved first.

His hands cradled my head so gently I wondered if he was scared of breaking me, and then he kissed me. His hands didn’t stray as he tilted my head to deepen our kiss, guiding me backwards with little pushes of his chest against my hands (I couldn’t help but let them wander- how he kept it together I have no idea) until we were inside. He pulled back, wild hazel eyes darting between mine as he reached back to close the door without even looking.

I don’t know if it’s the wings that make him so aware of his surroundings. Regardless, his eyes didn’t even leave mine. “May I?” He asked softly. It took me a solid ten seconds to realize his hand had come to settle over the buttons of my shirt. I nodded silently, and he lost no time in removing it, kissing me with renewed vigor.

I could hardly breathe, finding myself completely at a loss for words. Simply kissing him is addictive, but this complete contact, the sounds he made, the slow stroke of his hands down my sides was taking all I had to not collapse completely into him. The loss of his lips from mine was like losing air, like drowning in need. All the while, his desire, his love, poured down the bond. When he pulled my shirt all the way off I nearly died at the way his eyes roamed over me. He reached for my hands, stilling their wandering over his shoulders and back.

His groan and the way he pulled me back into him made me nearly feral, and I didn’t wait for him to protest before I made easy work of removing his shirt. I am sure I was less than gentle. He didn’t seem to care.

And he is a good kisser, but like I said yesterday… he’s a damn good lover.

#azrisweek2024 #azris fanfiction #azris supremacy #azris #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #eris vanserra #eris x azriel #Vanserra supremacy #Azris week day 3 #Azris fanfic #fictionalchaos #my work #my fanfic #letters of love by chaos #letters of love universe

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decojellyfish · 5 months ago

Text

Calico Valley

Thank you all so much for waiting! I really like how this one turned out. I was very much inspired by this playlist while writing. I recommend listening to it while you read!

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Horror AU! TF141 Priest! Soap x Southern Belle! Fem + AFAB! Reader (She/Her) This town he was sent to is kind of… off. This girl is pretty cute, though.

SFW ~ Fic with fluff that rots away into horrific angst

Warnings: Horror themes, religion-related horror themes (specifically Christianity), an unhealthily protective father figure (extremely OOC John Price), brief swearing near the end, suggested murder, and cannibalism

───♡───────────── Beginning

In the little, Christian, Southern town of Calico Valley, John was staying at the local inn, filled with cobwebs, dust, and the possibility of paranormal entities. He did not fear, however. He kept his rosary close to him, and by close, he would sleep with it clutched in his hands every night he stayed in that inn.

He had been called to this town in regards to a supposed possession of a young boy. He was behaving erratically, spewing vile words that were not of the Lord but of Satan himself. The exorcism took about 4 hours before the boy was finally free of the demon’s hand. He even had the help of the town’s priest, John Price. After that, he would make his way to the town’s church.

John would sit in a random row, eyes shut, rosary in hand and pressed near his lips as he silently prayed. A few minutes into his stay at the church, he heard someone sit down next to him. He finished his prayer before looking over at who it was.

A young woman, dressed in a light yellow dress with white ruffles, lace, and ribbons accented all over the garment. You. Your hands were clasped in your lap as you kept her head low, a white bow placed at the back of your hair. You were also praying, though you would softly whisper it to yourself rather than silently think of it. A closed, lacey, white parasol rested against your leg.

Once you were finished, you blinked before looking at John. A small smile appeared on your lips. “I’ve heard rumors about a visitor in town… I wanted to see if they were true, I had a feeling you would be here.” Your voice was soft as if you didn’t want to scare the traveling priest.

John let out a small chuckle, “I take it you don’t get too many visiting priests?” “Oh no, we do. I’ve just never met a Scottish priest before, that’s all.” You giggled, a little embarrassed at the honest confession. “My father is this town’s priest.” You added.

“Oh really? I met him when we were exorcising a poor little boy. He aided me in the process.” He smiled, now interested in the fact that he had met the priest’s daughter. If he was being honest, he felt a small flutter in his heart when he laid his eyes on you. A worried frown had replaced your pleasant smile, a small sigh leaving your mouth as you looked away from him and at the painting of Lord Christ. “It pains me to know there is so much sin in this world. So many sinners, why can’t they listen to the words of the Lord…?”

He felt your worries, your confusion. He would lean ever so slightly closer to you, placing a hand over your clasped ones. “That’s why your father and I, as well as many others like us, exist. To help sinners be forgiven, and be relieved of their sins. But we can only do so much, dear.”

Your cheeks turned a light shade of red at his words and his simple action of holding your hand. It made him smile warmly, and you smile in return. “I never got your name, Father.” She asked, sitting up a bit.

“John MacTavish. Although, my friends just call me Johnny. And you, Ms. Price?” He asked with a small chuckle. You laughed as well, giving him your name as you grabbed your parasol and stood up, he did as well. “Perhaps I can show you around the town? It’s the least I can do for your services…” “I’d love to. Lead the way.” He smiled as he followed you out of the church into the dirt roads that directed the town.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had finished showing Father Johnny around, your favorite candy parlor, your father’s favorite pub, the barbershop, and many other little spots. Some secret getaways as well, like your favorite spot beside the flowing river that you would visit when you wanted to get away from your father when he was in a mood.

“Wow, there’s so much to this town, eh?” Father Johnny looked over at you, making you giggle and nod. “Yes, it’s got so many things to see and do. Say, would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind at all.” You smiled up at him.

“I would love to, Ms. Price.” He smiled in return, reaching out and gingerly grasping your hand. “Why don’t we head to your home now, hm? I can’t help but think your father is worried ill about where you are.” “He always worries too much about me.” You huffed, your fingers twirling away at your parasol as it slightly dug into the ground.

“Ah, he’s just looking out for his pretty little girl.” His words made you blush a bit, your smile evolving from a pleasant smirk to a happy grin. “You think I’m pretty, Johnny…?” He stared at you, into your gem-like eyes. “Of course I do, you rival pearls in matters of beauty.” Father Johnny took a small step closer to you, his face mere inches away from yours.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, the butterflies in your stomach dancing and fluttering about like there was no tomorrow. It seemed like ages as you could see him leaning in a bit more, the both of you knowing where this was going. “Oh, would you hurry up and just smooch me?” You spoke as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, loving kiss. He was surprised, but would happily melt into it and hold your face with his strong hands.

Price stood behind a thick willow tree, his hands angrily clutching each other behind his back. His eyes filled with rage as he watched the sight take place across the street. A man whom he thought was filled with faith and pureness had corrupted his daughter, luring her into a world of lustful romance. Sooner or later, she would be packing her bags to run off with this devil who called himself a man of God—selling her soul to him for a life of sin, birthing his demon children. Essentially leaving him to rot in this dying town.

He couldn’t have it. Something had to be done. He marched back to his home and began to prepare.

The kiss felt like it lasted forever, and you never wanted it to end. But, unfortunately, you both needed to breathe. So your lips parted from Father Johnny’s, a big smile on his face as he looked at you. “That was amazing…” You were smiling too but would look around as you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. You looked back at Father Johnny, giving him a cautious look. “Just watch out for my father, got it? He can get rather… protective.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You two arrive back at your father’s house, Father Johnny trying to keep it subtle the way his hand is on the small of your back. His fingers caress the fabric of your dress.

Knocking on the door, it only takes a few seconds for your father to answer the door. A few seconds beforehand, Father Johnny had removed his hand from you. Your father had a warm smile on his face when he saw the two of you. “Father John, can I help you with anything?” Your father questioned, welcoming you in but halting the priest at his door. “Ah, your daughter invited me over for dinner. Bonnie told me you wouldn’t mind.” Father Johnny smiled at him, Price’s eye slightly twitching at the pet name.

“Ah, of course. Come in, come in. I’ve only got poultry stew cooking, I hope that’s enough for you.” Greedy pig, he thought to himself.

Father Johnny nodded as a silent thank you before entering the Price household, taking a look around before he smelled the stew your father had spoken of. “Lovely home you’ve got, plenty cozy.” “Only the best for my little girl.” Price mumbled, locking the front door shut.

The three of you were all sat around the table, each with a bowl of stew and a piece of bread. “What’s it like in Scotland, Father Johnny?” You asked, spoon stirring at your bowl of stew. “Father Johnny?” Price looked at you, confused. “Johnny is what his friends call him.” You answered as if it was the simplest question you’ve ever gotten in your life. Father Johnny smiled a bit at your bluntness, trying to hold back a small chuckle.

We have little nicknames for each other now? Price thought to himself, teeth gritting against each other as Johnny answered.

“Nothing too special, though I could be saying that because it’s my home country.” He laughed, causing you to laugh as well as you ate a spoonful of stew. “I hope I get to visit one day.” You hummed, going back to stirring with your spoon. “I think you’d love it, Bonnie.” Your father shut down the affectionate interaction between you two by, somewhat aggressively, reminding Father Johnny what your actual name was.

From then on, dinner was only the sounds of spoons clinking against bowls, the liquidy sounds of stew, and the gentle crunching of bread.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was the middle of the night, and you were sleeping in bed under your blankets with a nightgown replacing your day dress. A hand gently woke you up, causing groggy whines to leave your throat. Sitting up, rubbing at one of your eyes, you look at the perpetrator. It was Father Johnny. He had taken up your father’s offer to stay the night.

“Johnny… what are you doing here…? In my room…?” You whispered, still waking up. “Just wanted to give you a kiss goodnight… I couldn’t since it was kind of tense between your father and me…” He whispered back, holding your hand. You couldn’t help but smile, he was just so sweet!

You leaned forward and he gave you a gentle peck on your lips, before parting and giving another little peck to your forehead. “Love you, Bonnie.” “Love you too, Johnny.”

“Father John.”

You both nearly screamed when your father’s voice ripped through the loving silence that fell between you two. Father Johnny quickly stood up, dusting himself off as he looked at your father, who was standing in the open crack of your door. “Father Price.” Father Johnny replied. “I apologize, I was- I realized your daughter had left something of hers in the kitchen and I thought she would like to keep it close to her.”

Price held his hand up, signaling for him to stop talking before he smiled. “That’s fine, Father John. I just stopped by to tell you that I’ve received a desperate request for an exorcism.” “This late at night?” “It’s the devil’s hour, I’m not surprised.” Price chuckled a little, opening the door a bit more for Father Johnny to come with him.

Father Johnny nodded, understandingly, before giving you a loving glance and leaving the room with your father.

With that, you rested back into your bed. It seemed your father didn’t have a problem with you and Father Johnny after all. Perhaps it was because Father Johnny was a priest, and that meant he would keep you safe from sin. You smiled as you began to imagine your wedding, your own father being the one to wed you and Father Johnny together. Your wedding dress, what kind of flowers your bouquet would be filled with, what kind of cake you and Johnny would feed each other after the first slice was cut.

It made you giddy and excited to leave this town, instead, you would be living in Scotland with Father Johnny. Mrs. MacTavish. It had such a nice sound to it, wouldn’t you agree?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The loud crack of violent thunder ripped you from your sleep. It was pouring outside. Thankfully, it was only a Wednesday. You wouldn’t have to trek through all the mud to go to the church. You gave a small stretch before getting out of bed and walking down the steps. Your father was already cooking breakfast, but it was oddly enough another stew. Usually, he would be frying an egg or two, maybe even roasting a slice of ham to go along with it.

“Good morning, father.” You smiled at the back of your father’s head before you began to look around for Father Johnny. “Morning, dear.” Your father replied back, not turning to greet you. He was too focused on cooking.

“Do you know where Father Johnny would be? I figured he would be joining us for breakfast.” “Don’t fret about him, he’s just a boy. Go get yourself a bowl.” Your father answered, not wanting to hear any more of this ‘Father Johnny’ shit.

You silently obliged and got a bowl for yourself and one for your father, as well as one for Father Johnny.

Five minutes into breakfast, you were occasionally glancing over at the spot next to you at the table. Where Father Johnny would be, but it was only you and your father who sat across from you. Stirring at your morning stew, lifting up the meatballs with your spoon before gently placing them back down into the broth, you didn’t want to finish breakfast without the love of your life.

“Don’t play with your food, young lady.” Your father commanded, causing you to go back to sipping small spoonfuls of broth. “Make sure you eat the meat too, I don’t want you growing weak.” You followed his second command and scooped up one of the meatballs, taking a small bite out of it.

“This meat tastes weird…” You mumbled. “Well, you need to finish it. It’s not gone off if that’s what you’re wondering.” Your father retorted, eating the meat like he didn’t taste anything wrong with it. But you listened to him, father always knew best.

“I thought you would love the meat. It’s your favorite kind, anyway.” “Father, beef doesn’t usually taste like this-”

“It’s not beef.”

You looked up at him, confused. “I don’t think any other kind of meat tastes like this either, father.” “Didn’t you want to be with him forever?” Price replied blankly. “Father, what does Johnny have anything to do with this?” You were beyond puzzled at this point. “And where even is he? I never took him to be a man who likes to sleep in.”

“Dearest, he’s with us right now.” A small grin began to tug at your father’s lips. “He’s with you, too, my love.” You kept looking at your father with a perplexed expression, looking at him, then where Johnny was supposed to be seated, then your father again, and you briefly glanced down at your stew to think, what the hell is your father talking about?

Then it hit you.

You dropped your spoon, eyes wide open as you stared into the bowl of stew that rested on the table before you. Your body began to tremble as you heard your father holding back a wretched snicker. You stared at the balls of that weird meat, taking in every single bump and wrinkle they had to offer. Until your vision began to blur, tears flooding your eyes and clouding your sight. Your hands reached up to cover your mouth. Whether it was to keep you from vomiting, or from screaming bloody murder, you didn’t know. One thing you did know, however…

Was that you were eating meat that once belonged to Father Johnny’s corpse.

“Isn’t it what you wanted, dear?” Your father was holding back barrels of laughter as he watched your response. “You and that son of a bitch together forever? Honestly, Lovie, you don’t know how terrible it makes me feel, knowing that I’ve raised such a stupid child. Who thinks that she can magically be swept away by some devil-boy.” Your father growled at you, slamming his hands onto the table, causing some of the stew to dribble and spill onto the wooden structure.

The only thing you could do was sob, hiccup, and wipe at your tear-covered face. “Oh, stop your fucking crying. Now that I think about it, you and him would’ve been perfect together. All that boy would do was cry and weep, begging for his life before I swung that axe down. I freed you from a life of sin.”

“I hate you!” You screamed at your father through your tears, standing up and shoving the chair to the ground as you did so. Crack. The sound of thunder striking close to your home as your father swiftly slapped you clean across the face, nearly causing you to topple over. It nearly synced up at the same time. You held your face, looking up at the monster that contributed to your creation.

“Go to your room.” Your father commanded. Even in your heartbroken rage, you still listened to him. You ran up the stairs to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

You were curled up in your bed, sobbing into your hands, when you heard your doorknob start to slightly jiggle. Your father wasn’t coming in, though.

You got up and tested it, giving it a little turn. But it wouldn’t turn. It was locked.

Your father had locked you in your room from the outside.

“It’s for your own good, dear. I can’t have you constantly getting wrapped up in all these demons who’re trying to control you and your gentle heart.” Your father spoke over your desperate cries to unlock the door, your fists banging against the wood. He left you alone after that. For the rest of the day even. You weren’t fed, you weren’t given anything to drink.

You were in hell. Satan, himself, had locked you into your own, personal ring of hell.

───♡───────────── End

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