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a-libra-writes · 4 years ago

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are you still doing that kiss prompt thingy?? if you are, how's about '50. In Secret kiss' with Micah Bell? ((if youre not then dont worry!)) pleases and thank yous :0)

hECK YEAH (sorry i took ten million years yall aggghhh). i went rlly fluffy with this bc my self indulgence is always at MAX

The shot brushed the bottom of the empty whiskey bottle. It shook from the force, but didn’t fall over or break. Micah had seen the mark it left on the glass, but he didn’t have time to look twice. Another shot rang out, and the glass shattered.

“Well, it looks like that peashooter can get the job done,” He said to Y/N. As he anticipated, she gave him that look, then gestured to the four hares she’d tied to her horse.

“I recall you used mine to get that doe.” Micah inclined his head to the doe strapped on top. He missed the shot on that one - a rarity in itself - and Y/N took his rifle, downing the animal before it could run away. By the way the corners of her lips were twitching, she was remembering that.

It was hard to care about his wounded pride when she almost-smiled, because he knew it was more than anyone got out of her in the two … no, was it three years she’d been with the gang? “That one’s Y/N, she doesn’t say much. Leave her be.” Dutch had said to Micah during his first week. There was an odd protectiveness in the man’s voice, one Micah hadn’t heard given to others, besides maybe Jack and Tilly.

‘Not saying much’ was a great understatement. Y/N never spoke. She didn’t laugh or smile, or furrow her brows or cry. The camp acted as though she wasn’t there, with some exceptions. Tilly would chatter beside her as they did chores, she and Mary-Beth traded books, little Jack would trail after her if Abigail was busy, Hosea would bring her along for this or that job. There seemed to be a divide between those who worked with her silence, and those who were unnerved by it.

Micah didn’t want to admit he was in the latter camp. The first time he finally said something to her, he was drunk, and it came out stupid. Completely stupid. He remembered waiting for the usual reaction: Disgust, maybe a slap, storming off angrily. Some women shrieked when a rat scurried across the floor, some reached for an iron skillet. Y/N only looked at him with those sharp eyes, the shadows of the campfire bouncing off her face.

She walked away, and he breathed out, not realizing how nervous the whole interaction made him. Never in his life had a woman made him shiver like that.

It was sunny now, not a cloud in the sky, and it was hard to believe this sunshined-kissed face was the same one that unnerved him months ago. Y/N took aim, and the next shot sent a glass bottle flying off the rock. She lowered the gun and clapped happily.

Shit. It was so endearing. Micah stood up from where he was sitting - on a goddamned blanket she spread out, because after hunting all morning and afternoon they were both tired, and she wanted to sit with him and rest. Then he suggested the game, and she wanted to play. Who was he to refuse?

Y/N walked up to the bottles and picked up the skinniest one. She walked several feet away and placed it, then ran back. When she pointed at it, Micah squinted.

“What, you gonna shoot that?”

She shook her head and pointed to him.

Micah scoffed. He retrieved his revolver, the right one. “Darlin’, I can do a lot better than that.”

He lifted his gun, put the bottle in his sights, and almost squeezed the trigger. He stopped, although he could already hear the sounds of the glass breaking.

“You try it,” He said suddenly. “With a proper gun, not that old thing.”

Micah was too anxious to look at her, or wait for a refusal. He all but shoved the revolver in her hands. Y/N blinked at it, then held it properly. He watched her fingers curl around it, how easily they fit into place. The gun wasn’t made for her hands, but it looked right. A swell of excitement went up his spine when she touched the barrel and noticed the engraving.

He cleared his throat, coughed a bit and stood behind her. “You shot one of these before, right?”

Y/N turned back to face him, giving him an ‘obviously’ sort of glance. He placed his larger hands around her’s, trying to fight the urge to pull away immediately. It was like her skin was fire, and his chest was hurting. He moved her smaller fingers into a better grip, so the recoil wouldn’t be as hard, and let her lift it to her line of sight.

“It’ll kick,” Micah said. “Every revolver got a different kick.”

Y/N didn’t squirm out of his arms, or look uncomfortable, so he selfishly stayed put. She was concentrating on the shot.

And she took it. She had flinched, but the glass shattered.

He couldn’t hide his grin. His next words spilled out. “Next time there’s a job, I’ll get you a better gun, an’ take you with me.”

Y/N smiled, and he had a sudden sensation of being both punched in the gut and choked out. He stepped away and cleared his throat. Micah felt something tugging at his side, and realized she was putting the revolver back in its holster. He immediately thought of her hands being somewhere else.

To distract himself, he looked at the sky. He was surprised at the late hour, and pulled out his pocketwatch to confirm it. Had they really spent most of the day in this forest? The discomfort growing in his gut was getting worse, and in an attempt to control it, Micah almost offered that they ride Baylock together. To his disappointment, Y/N had already swung up on her horse. He comforted himself with the fact she probably wouldn’t have agreed, anyway. It was a sheer dumb miracle she’d gone along with the hunting and shooting, given how she normally was.

“You better not be bothering that girl, Mr. Bell,” He could hear Grimshaw’s voice echoing off in his head. It was the first or second week he arrived, and her voice was low and dangerous. He’d just been looking at Y/N, and the old bitch was on him at once. “She’s don’t need the likes of you distracting her.”

He had a few choice words for the woman now, but Y/N clicked her tongue to get his attention. She was waiting on him, probably wondering what he was spacing out for. On the ride back, he wondered what Grimshaw, or anyone, would say if they noticed them coming back together.

No one said anything. It was still early in the evening, and there wasn’t much of the gang around. Micah could’ve split off and left to town if he wanted; he almost never came back this early. To his dismay, Y/N returned to that passive face he’d seen so many times before. He felt like something had slipped out of his grasp.

He could at least help her dismount, even if she didn’t need it. It felt stupid to offer his hand, like he was some goddamned storybook prince, but she took it. He relished that brief contact as he helped her down, wondering when it’d come again… if it ever would. This day seemed like one of those that was too good to be true.

“You come get me if ya need help, with the uh, the huntin’,” Micah mumbled. The words sounded stupid again, but they were far better than the first ones he said to her. “Or shootin’. Ya got a good eye.”

Y/N didn’t let go. She looked at him with those big eyes, now not so passive, and the old gunman had to will himself not to look away. He couldn’t, feeling rooted to the ground with both her gaze and her touch.

Then she kissed him. It was on the cheek, but he froze. From how close she was, he could smell the forest, the dirt, the gunpowder.

“Sure.”

He could have missed it with how his heart was beating, how the horses around them nickered and the distant gramophone crooned. She squeezed his fingers and smiled. The sun had set now, but she was so, so bright.

Y/N turned away and led her horse to Pearson’s wagon. That simple word ran across his mind at least a dozen times by the time she was too far away to call to without drawing attention, and then Mary-Beth ran up to her, and then Charles offered to help with the doe. She nodded and gestured and pointed, the language she used with everyone.

Micah wondered if they’d heard anything she said, if she ever shared that smile. Something told him - something hoped - that wasn’t the case. He watched her until that gut-punching and throat-squeezing became too much, and he swung up on Baylock to head to town. Maybe come morning, he’d find a gun, a smaller one with not much recoil. Maybe he’d hear more words after that.

#yes im actually doing things big shock lmao #i wont apologize for this #micah bell x reader #rdr2 x reader #kiss prompts #libra minis

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westerhos · 4 years ago

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Our Story: Chapter One

Life has been running a mile a minute and I feel like it’s been a century since I’ve contributed to ~Outlander fandom/fic discourse~. So! To get back into the swing of things, I’m going to re-post an old AU of mine: Our Story (shout out to @gotham-ruaidh for giving me the courage).

I’ve chosen this one because A) I’m proud of it; it’s the only multi-chapter fic I’ve ever finished, but also B) it’s basically a timeline of my first year in NYC, which will (maybe?) make for some interesting commentary. I’ll post a chapter every other day and include my self-indulgent author notes at the bottom (songs, anecdotes, whatever dumb shit I come up with).

Yes, you can read the entire fic on Ao3 . . . but what’s the fun in that? ;)

Chapter 1

[December 24th, 1989]

It is the beginning of their story, the first time Jamie sees her. The dividing line between 'what was' and 'what would be.' The setting is a Christmas party: an Edinburgh flat, roaring on the cusp of a new decade. Champagne bubbles float in flutes and greetings.

The players are just two university students, dancing across a stage of shaggy green carpet. Garlands of tinsel trip their feet.

And the opening scene? Well. It goes something like this:

She is wearing a holiday sweater, a confection of silver bells and sequined penguins. It is the hard-won earnings of an hour’s wade through mothballs, she says, of a knee-deep dive in a charity shop bargain bin. All of this she relays to Jamie with a smirk, a precocious, all-knowing smile that he will come to know so well.

The lights dim, and her eyes flicker. Lit coals in the flat’s half-dark. She smells of fresh rain, of flowers just beginning to open, and the scent forms a sweet, perceptible weight in the air. It settles on him, around him, when she leans forward, straining to hear his stuttered—

“Hello,” Jamie says, or tries to. He forgets his vowels and it comes as, “Hlllll?”

“Sorry, what was that?”

Claire starts when his hand takes hers, crunches it firmly inside his palm. For Claire, this moment will never lose its clarity, and in the years that follow she will argue that this is where their story begins: nestled in the slight curl of Jamie’s lips; his voice, as smooth as the whisky he offers to pour her; another ugly sweater, this one boasting a lager-stained Santa and a hem of unraveling wool. The red string hangs there for her to tug and close the gulf between them, and she does. Twenty one (him) and twenty two (her) years of strangerhood reduced to nothing—and then, so suddenly, transformed into knowing.

They make small talk in the corner, mentioning the weather (“seasonably cold”) and her biology exam (“after break”). Eventually Claire asks, “Do you know anyone here?”, and bracketed inside this question is her secret hope that he does not. She wants to believe that Jamie is on her side, that it is only the two of them (it has only ever been the two of them) against the world. She is so used to feeling alone in crowds—but here! Oh, but here in the rainbow glow of tree lights, she feels a part of Something. She holds onto it, wishing her hand was as big as his so that his curling lips and his whisky voice would never seep through her fingers.

“Dinna ken anyone,” Jamie confirms, “though I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.”

He inclines his head towards the mass of bodies, all gyrating in a singular, chaotic wave. Music plays in the background, oppressive and electronic, as a third year belts Bowie between tokes. Jamie lets it fade away, forgets it all—the noise, how to blink, how to breathe. Forgets everything except her.

Claire wrinkles her nose.

“The problem with these people is that they think they’re interesting.” She is yelling into his ear but even so, it seems strangely intimate. Every word exchanged is a secret between them, one they tuck inside their pockets, will place under their pillows when they lay their heads to sleep. “But they aren’t. Not even remotely!”

“Weel, fortunately you’ve met me now.”

“Mmm. But are you truly interesting or only remotely?”

“That’s for you to decide, lass. You being the expert on such things.”

Claire grins at the floor. “You haven’t even told me your name, y’know.”

“James Fraser,” he says, all too quickly, and he’s unreasonably embarrassed. James, he thinks. How many ‘James’ were in this very room, wearing equally hideous and soiled sweaters? How many ‘James’ had she met in Scotland? Would she even remember him, one of 337 (to be precise), after this night? (She would, of course. During her biology exam, she will think of James Fraser and leave fifteen questions blank. She will get a C—a grade as average as his name.)

“But you can call me Jamie,” he adds over the roar.

“I’m Claire Beauchamp. Just plain Claire Beauchamp!”

And Jamie laughs—a beautiful laugh, the best laugh, a laugh Claire will spend the rest of her life wanting to hear (she will have to work harder on certain days).

“If I call ye anything, it’ll be ‘Sassenach’. Whereabouts in England are ye from?”

And Claire smiles—a beautiful smile, the best smile, a smile Jamie will spend the rest of his life trying to earn (finding success and failure in turns).

“Oxford by birth,” Claire says. “But from nowhere, really.”

She pauses, hearing the third-year shout, “Bowie, man! Greatest artist of all time!” and swears the kid is wrong. It’s God who was the greatest artist, and this six-foot deity with his lager-stained knit was his chef d’ouevre.

“Do you want to make this night interesting, Jamie?”

“Remotely interesting?”

“More than remotely.”

“That depends. What d’ye have in mind?”

Claire reaches for his hand, and he gives it to her. Jamie squeezes; she squeezes back. She leads him through the throng. He follows, licking his lips and at her heels.

(Who knew it could ever be this easy? Falling in love.)

Note: I started this fic with a variation of the last line (“Who knew how easy it was to fall in love?”) and worked my way backwards. I only had a vague idea of what I wanted to write: a cross between Lauren Groff’s Fates and Furies, David Nicholls’ One Day, and the movie Blue Jay. Ah, ambition! I ultimately veered away from the last one, but leaned very heavily on Fates and Furies (more on that later) and stuck to One Day’s idea of tracking a relationship over the course of multiple decades. I thought I could do this in a couple of chapters, but after I wrote this opener—in the middle of the night; anxious as fuck because I was a one week away from moving to New York (also more on that later)—I chucked my original five-chapter outline. Still had no idea where I was going with it though.

In retrospect, I like this chapter as a whole, although I realize Jamie/Claire sound like pretentious snobs (the result of my Fates and Furies obsession!) and wish I carried the red string image throughout the rest of the story.

#outlander #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #myfic

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phantom-curve · 4 years ago

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someday this will have a real title pt. 3

wow this one got away from me a lil bit. did I use it as an excuse to listen to Wake Up on repeat for an hour? yes. did I cry while writing it? yes. do with that information what you will.

I really like how this is turning out. honestly, thinking of writing a companion piece from Luke’s POV once I finish Julie’s. also, I realized while writing this that Luke basically ‘poofs’ into Julie’s space every time he interacts with her even though he’s not a ghost and I love that consistency.

still have no idea how long this will be, so thanks for just going on this adventure with me!

tag list: @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles (thank you! honestly, they’ve got such strong voices writing these characters is a delight. also, titles are hard), @bluefyoto94 (thank you!), @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder lemme know if you want to be added!

The second the entrance of Los Feliz High School was in her sight, Julie was unbuckling her seatbelt, bolting out of the car in a mad dash to escape into the academic institution. Luke didn’t even have time to fully park the car before she had slipped out of it, her curly head disappearing into the mass of students surging through the front doors as the first bell began to ring. Social etiquette dictated that she wait around long enough to at least thank Luke for the ride, but honestly, social etiquette could suck a fat one. She had been dealing with fake social graces for the last year and frankly, she was sick of all of the bullshit. She didn’t feel particularly inclined to extend said graces to overconfident band boys intent on disrupting her carefully constructed routine.

For the last year Luke had been content to ignore her presence in the few classes they shared, perfectly happy basking in the glory of being an upperclassman with unprecedented musical talent. Luke knew exactly where he was going and how he was going to get there. He didn’t stop to wait for the school to hook him up with gigs, he went out and made the shows happen for his band himself. Julie had always admired his confidence, wished she could be more like him.

She hadn’t always loved the cockier side to his attitude though. He had a tendency to act like god’s gift to music and it drove her insane considering there were kids at this school that worked just as hard as him but wouldn’t ever make it quite as far. Not everyone could be born with that kind of talent, but that didn’t mean he had to rub other people’s faces in it! She should know, hadn’t she always been complimented on her musical ability before anything else? And now that she didn’t have that same gift to offer up to the masses, wasn’t she just another forgotten face in the crowd?

Head low, shoulders hunched against the onslaught of emotion, Julie pushed her way through the morning crowd of students. She didn’t look up until she knew her locker would be in front of her, and even then she only lifted her head long enough to bury it inside of the metal box, pretending she was searching for the schoolbooks already in her backpack.

“Hey, under achiever.”

The familiar voice was warm, the nickname affectionate instead of insulting. It pulled a reluctant smile from Julie as she turned to meet her best friend’s gentle gaze.

“Hey, disappointment.”

Flynn gave her a little hip bump and a sad smile. Oh. So, word had already spread around the school.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Julie hefted her backpack higher on her shoulder, one hand reaching to pull her hat low. Too late she recognized how her own actions almost mirrored Luke’s earlier. Flynn, best friend that she was, linked her arm through Julie’s and began to lead them down the hallway towards homeroom.

“Okay.”

Julie breathed a sigh of relief. Her best friend could be like a dog with a bone sometimes, unable to let any perceived injustice go without a fight. She was thankful she had avoided whatever rant Flynn had at the ready for the time being.

“But we’re gonna have to talk about it eventually, Jules. You can’t just let them kick you out! You’re Julie Molina! Voice of an angel! Queen of-!”

Or maybe not. Flynn’s declarations cut off immediately at the cold look Julie sent her way.

“Right, don’t wanna talk about it.”

Julie nodded fiercely, unmoved by Flynn’s disappointed sigh as she pulled out of her grasp and slipped into her desk. Flynn hadn’t lost her mom and her ability to play music all at once. Flynn didn’t have the entire school breathing down her neck. Flynn’s life wasn’t falling apart in front of her eyes. Flynn didn’t get to judge. Head down, Julie fought back the feelings of shame and guilt, focusing on her anger instead.

She made it through most of the day like that, relying solely on the fuel her fury provided to get her through her classes. Until her last two classes of the day. Composition and Solo Vocal Studies. Except, she wasn’t in those classes anymore. She had been dropped from them like the useless failure that she was. Her dad still didn’t know, so there hadn’t been a meeting with the school to change her schedule. But she couldn’t just go to a class she had been asked to leave. The final bell rang, and Julie was left by herself in the empty hallways. She glanced at the closed classroom doors around her, feeling small and lost. Suddenly, the red-hot rage that had sustained her all day was doused by an overwhelming wave of sadness. She was alone.

Unable to stomach the thought of losing it in the middle of the school, Julie sprinted for the nearest exit. Her surroundings were a blur until she practically slammed into the metal doors, crashing her way outside. She took a few steps before doubling over on her knees, gasping for breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, focused on nothing more than the air going in and out of her lungs. It was breezy, the warm wind blowing her hair around, the wayward curls tickling her face. The sensation helped to ground her, and she finally opened her eyes, the panic receding as she stood. The door creaked open behind her. Julie stiffened at the noise. The hair on the back of her neck felt electrified, and she didn’t have to hear him speak to know who it was. A throat cleared.

“You, um...you dropped this.”

She heard fabric rustling, the soft swoosh of what must be his arm lifting. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, the frustration she’d been thriving on all day creeping in at the edges. She clung to it like a lifeline as she turned to meet his puppy dog eyes.

“What, are you stalking me or something?!”

Her voice was hoarse, not as strong or snappy as she had intended. She balled her hands into tight fists at her sides, ready to verbally attack as she leaned forward waiting for him to respond. He didn’t say anything, eyes soft as he looked down to where his hand was outstretched holding...her hat. Her hands flew to her head, landing on hair instead of the trusty ballcap she had kept perched there for the last year. So that’s how her curls had gotten loose earlier. Heat rose again, burning its way up from her chest to her cheeks to the tips of her ears. She snatched it out of his hands, shoving it back on her head with more force than necessary.

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing. You, uh, bolted outta there pretty quick. Everything okay?”

She watched him bob slightly, like he couldn’t stop moving for even a second. His voice was melodic, somehow everything he said sounding like he was on the verge of bursting into song. In another life, she probably would have been charmed by him. Not in this life though.

“Fine. Looks like I’m done with school for the day I guess.”

She practically sneered at him. Something about his gentle prodding scratched at her. Everyone knew she was a disaster. Everyone knew she was out of the music program, a washed up has been before she had been able to even make it in the first place. He didn’t need to use the kid gloves with her.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you usually have...”

He trailed off, eyes downcast, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. She glared, not even noticing that he somehow knew her schedule.

“Yeah. Usually. Not anymore. So.”

He rocked back on his heels, hands shoved in his jean pockets, arms flexing in an unfairly aggressive display of hotness. His eyes were still looking at her with that same gentle expression. Like he cared. Her fingertips itched and she realized with a start that she desperately wanted to grab her keyboard and pound out an angry ballad about this...this too nice fuckboy with a pretty face and she could see the notes forming now and she could practically feel the smooth chill of the keys under her fingers and...she staggered backwards.

What the hell was that?! Her heart raced, adrenaline spiking. Oh no. No no no. She couldn’t want to play for this dumb boy. She hadn’t been able to play for her dad or her brother. She hadn’t been able to play for Flynn, hadn’t been able to play for her mother. She couldn’t even play for herself! What kind of special magic did Luke freakingPatterson possess that made her want to play again? It wasn’t fair.

“I gotta go.”

She swerved around him, reaching for the school doors. They held fast, locked from the inside. Her shoulders slumped. Just her luck.

“Hey, Julie?”

She didn’t answer, but it didn’t stop him.

“I’m really sorry about your mom. She was an incredible songwriter. You are too.”

The last part was said quietly but Julie heard it anyway. She couldn’t help but scoff as she turned to face him again. He stood perfectly still this time.

“How would you know that?”

His eyes, still so soft, crinkled a bit at the edges. Not a full smile, but she could tell he wanted to. Without breaking their stare down, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn, folded square of paper. Her gaze dipped, eyes widening. Her breath caught in her throat. It couldn’t be. He held it out to her.

“I found it last year. In the practice room. I know I should have given it to you earlier, but there was never a right time. I’m sorry.”

Julie’s vision swam. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she reached out to take the paper he offered.

“I thought...I tried to...”

“I know.”

His voice was the sweetest croon as his fingers closed around hers, tucking the sheet music safely into her palm.

“I went back the next day, but...it was gone.”

“I’m so sorry. God, I should have had Alex give it to Flynn or something.”

“No.” She locked her eyes on his once more. “It wasn’t the right time.”

He gave her a small smile, bouncing just a bit on the balls of his feet again. And then, as if understanding that she needed this moment to herself, he gave her a small nod and disappeared around the side of the building. Julie closed her eyes for a moment, clutching the papers to her chest.

Last year, in a fit of heartbroken rage and unable to express herself through music like she had for her entire life, Julie had locked herself in the practice room after school and thrown an all-out tantrum. She had screamed herself sick, cried until she couldn’t breathe, and in a final fit of uncontrollable emotion, trashed the last song that she had written with her mother, finished just days before she took her last breath. It had been satisfying in the moment. A vow to give up the part of herself that was made up of her mother, cut the pain off at the source so to speak. She had regretted it the instant she woke up the next morning, but it was too late. By the time she got to school, the first student on campus even, the practice room had already been cleaned. The hollowed out, empty feeling of loss that had followed had been gut wrenching. The realization that she had thrown the last connection to her mother in the trash left a gaping hole in her heart. It had been a fitting punishment that Julie had never even gotten to play the final product. A fitting punishment that she would never play anything again.

Luke had just changed all of that. He had given her that piece of her heart back. Fingers trembling, she unfolded the pages. She traced the looping letters of her mother’s familiar handwriting, following the notes up and down the bars, the melody playing in her head as she read. At the very end, a final message she had missed before:

Julie, you can do it.

Love, Mom

It felt like coming home. Pages clutched to her heart once more, Julie leaned against the building, lifted her face to the sky, and wept.

#you guys this was supposed to be a fun lil writing exercise and now it's a full on fanfic #that's honestly v on brand for me #also this was supposed to be fluffy! blame julie for the angst!!#julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #jukebox #julie x luke #luke x julie #julie molina #luke patterson #palina #Mads speaks #Mads writes #jatp ficlet #jatp fanfic #jule ficlet #juke fanfic #find the strength find the melody

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tentavamp · 4 years ago

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Here’s a drabble (at least by my definition, it’s way too big otherwise) requested on Twitter for some Pirate Lesbians Jolymes. Not beta read, just meant to be a fun, quick warmup. Apologies if there are any mistakes I missed. This really ended up being an excerpt from one of those cheesy dumb romance novels on accident.

“So, the Platinum’s captain is your father? How sweet.” The ship’s current prisoner leans casually against the bars of her holding cell, hands locked firm to keep herself in place against the rocking of the vessel.

“What would you think if I asked him for your hand as compensation once my own crew comes back to get me? That counts as a lass for a lass, I think.”

“Quiet, you damned church bell! You’ve been at this for an hour now!”

Jolyne finally rises from her seat in frustration. There’s a rhythmic, aggressive clanking of boots as she stomps to stand the woman’s opposite, eyes locked in a scowl and her grip threatening to pull the knife from her hip. This pirate’s crew (she identified herself as Costello) made an attempt to board their ship during the night. It was clumsy, failed; they very easily plucked a prisoner from the chaos for their trouble. It seemed almost too easy, in fact. Jolyne, the captain’s daughter and general deckhand, had been ordered to keep watch and pry information when she could. As rightly guessed, the unfamiliar crew had heard of the Platinum’s success and wanted their own cut from the group’s last reward. The woman however, with dreads stained just a touch by sea salt and skin that glows gold in the rays that penetrate the ship walls, hasn’t personally left the girl alone since she took her position.

“And you aren’t pretty enough to be a siren! Quit while you still have some dignity, why don’t you!”

“But am I handsome enough to be your husband?” Costello replies, not a hint of expected sarcasm to her voice.

Jolyne’s lip twitches.

“I’m well-off for that already!” The girl stuffs her arms against her chest, turning away from the gaze that’s starting to heat up her face.

“I’m engaged to be wed to a man on the mainland! A rich, handsome man who could have me and our crew stable for life!”

“Does he know you’re a scoundrel and a cheat like me?”

Jolyne scoffs. “What the hell does that matter? He proposed and I said yes, didn’t I?! That means it’s going to be a marriage!”

Costello’s knuckles visibly tighten around the bars with the rising of a wave. She takes the opportunity to shift, straightening out to stand a few good inches above her jailer.

“Come here.” She requests low and soft, the accent falling off of her tongue in ways Jolyne has never heard before.

The captain’s daughter doesn’t comply. Instead, the prisoner gets a daggerish evil-eye shot in her direction from the corner of the girl’s vision.

“How many has it been? Many? Or is this your first?”

“That’s none of your business.” Jolyne can’t hide how tense she grows at the probing question.

“Preserving the sanctity of your political marriage, then?” The older woman’s lip curls.

“Perhaps I’m just ill-minded, but I don’t take you for one who looks at any man with eagerness.”

Jolyne finally turns to lock eyes with her charge, this glare filled more with melancholy than the last. She knows it’s malice, it has to be, but it’s wearing her down in a more intimate way than torture would.

“I’m not going to live selfishly as a spinster like you when I could aid my family...” She mumbles, wanting only to slough the weight from her shoulders with heroic semantics.

“So you’d rather them make you a tool for wealth than be free to love as you see fit?”

A lightly freckled hand rises from between the bars, cautious as to not draw alarm. It cradles half of the blonde streak falling over Jolyne’s face like one would a drooping flower, but the woman remains stoic in face of the attention. So stoic, in fact, that she leaves the pair lost in a moment’s silence with her refusal to respond.

“I can let you free, Miss Cujoh.”

The woman’s golden eyes grow wide when she feels a sudden, aggressive grip of hands around her leather vest collar. It yanks her against the bars, close enough for Jolyne to snort a hot bull’s-warning into her face.

“How dare you try to seduce me like this, you witch!”

“Oh my-“ Costello tries her best to suppress a cough, the feeling brought on by metal hitting her square in the sternum.

“You seem quite thirsty for something, Miss Cujoh.”

Both parties remain steadfast in their own ways, Costello with confidence and Jolyne with her burning red desire not to make a fool of herself. Being quite attracted to the thrill of danger, this woman is pushing the girl’s buttons just so. She teases her in a way that feels like a dare, yet seems skillful enough to hide its origin. Is it really the prisoner’s tongue working magic, or is Jolyne’s own stubbornness holding her to a flame? From the green tattoo on Costello’s forehead, Jolyne finds her focus trailing downward: down the woman’s sculpted nose, her years-worn lips, the scar that mars her chin and came a mere lick away from splitting the lower of the two.

“With nothing around but salt water and brandy, I suppose you’ll just have to drink of me instead...”

Jolyne hesitates, but takes her attitude all the way to the grave as she finally indulges the temptation. They kiss between the bars, the captain’s daughter panting her frustration with herself into the fellow pirate’s mouth. She can feel the other smirk against her and the subtle display of victory prods into her sensitivity.

“I only-“ Pause.

“Am doing this-“ Another pause.

“To shut your mouth!” Jolyne feels inclined to specify amongst her own efforts.

“Mmh. I’ll be quiet if it means having you this close, hermosa.”

Serving as a distraction to the noise she hears above-deck, Costello draws the girl closer with a tug. A skilled hand snakes down to Jolyne’s hip, the other around her back to brush under her messily-tied braid and hold her there. They don’t break away from their moment until there’s a loud thud directly above them, startling Jolyne into a daze.

“What in God’s name-?!” She pries herself from Costello’s arms, leaving the woman still reeling with an exhilarating rabbit-heart from the interaction.

“C-Consider my offer, would you mi sirenita?” She shouts as Jolyne rushes to check on the commotion.

“You won’t regret it!”

As Jolyne scrambles to the top deck, she’s very quickly directed by the rest of the crew to the sight of a ship growing in the distance. It barrels forward fast despite the Platinum’s late attempts to outrun it, having used a sudden layer of fog to sneak up on them. It’s no doubt going to be another attempt to overtake them.

“It’s the Green Dolphin again! She’s approachin’ off the stern! Got some death wish comin’ at us again so soon!” A deckhand exclaims.

Jolyne goes ignored by her father as he barks his commands to the rest of the Platinum’s occupants. Even still, a gear seems to set in place in her head as she puts two and two together on her own. There’s a furious hiss that’s forced through her teeth as she throws herself back down into the holding cells, only to find her charge’s cell door open, the keys gone from her belt, and the prisoner gone without a trace.

“COSTELLO, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jolyne cujoh #jolyne kujo #hermes costello #ermes costello #jolymes #stone ocean #part 6 #pirate AU #drabble #bone rattling

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the-enamorando-deity · 4 years ago

Note

Rhiannon with Peggy Carter?

damn this was a heck of a lot of fun, i love this song so much, it holds a special place in my heart.

Peggy Carter x Reader

Rhiannon

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and

There was no greater human that you had ever met than Peggy. She could sweet talk her way past any man, slip her way past any woman, and curl you around her finger so tight you couldn’t breathe. All she had to do was smile.

Wouldn't you love to love her?

Your brain would stop functioning, your lungs didn’t want air, all you need to live was her touch, her smile, her eyes. You had to have her in every way, and you never thought it would happen so quickly.

Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and

It started when she took some files from you, her fingers brushing against your hand. You felt something start, and the way she looked you up and down didn’t exactly hide the reason behind her lingering touch.

Who will be her lover?

You had been working your way up to kissing her for weeks, months, just wanting to surprise her and let her know how much she meant. You barely uttered a syllable to her after making your plan, and she could see how tense you acted around her.

All your life you've never seen

It was a late night, the latest you two had been alone ever. Neither of you were permitted entrance to your rooms after a certain hour, so you had to be wary. The last two in the office were you and Peggy, you weren’t surprised by it either. You were often left alone to sort things before a big week, usually things messed up on purpose to keep you busy.

A woman taken by the wind

You had half dozed off in a pile of forms and file folders, waking as Peggy’s soft and perfectly manicured hands took yours, her thumb rubbing over the back of your hand to wake you. You gently pulled your hands away from hers, swiping one across your cheek.

‘What time is it?’

‘Late,’ she answered softly, standing and moving behind you to pull a coat over your shoulders. ‘You should go home.’

‘No, I’m not leaving you here to clean all this up. Your admission closes before mine, let me stay.’

She smiled and pulled you to your feet. ‘I’ll make you a deal. We do what we can in the next half hour, then we both go back to mine for a nightcap.’

Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

You felt a surge in your chest, your heart beating loud as she watched you, expecting some form of word as an answer.

Unable to manage that, you nodded quickly. ‘Are you allowed guests?’

‘Female, yes, otherwise, no. And I have a sofa, you can stay with me instead of crossing the city by yourself this late.’

You tried to refuse, but the kindness in her eyes mixed with her stubborn nature you knew too well, you agreed.

Will you ever win?

Somehow, you managed to get everything cleaned up and sorted in the time limit, trying not to rush as you set off for Peggy’s apartment. You noticed after half a block that Peggy had no coat on, and as you looked to your own, you saw how the one on your shoulders matched her skirt.

‘Peggy, aren’t you cold?’

She looked up at the stars, a light red brushed across her cheeks as she smiled. She lived for nights as this, grinning eagerly at you, unaware of the weather at all.

She is like a cat in the dark and then

You made it to her room, and it was warm. Somehow, you managed to evade attention usually cast upon strangers, seeming like you belonged. She cracked open a bottle hidden in a compartment under her bed, pouring you both a large glass. Your eyes widened at the sight.

‘You do drink, don’t you, darling?’

She is the darkness

Both of you insisted upon taking the sofa, and refusing to compromise, slept back to back on Peggy’s bed. You slept better than you ever had before, and woke up completely rested, despite the large amount of alcohol you had consumed together.

She rules her life like a fine skylark and when

It was either the exhaustion from dancing for hours, the rare blessing of company, or maybe you were both drained from the weeks worth of work you’d completed within hours.

The sky is starless

You remembered how she laid her head on your shoulder, swaying back and forth, giggling as you stumbled around. You remembered how you both ended up at the open window curled in a blanket, shoulder to shoulder, watching as the clouds and city lights obscured the stars from view.

All your life you've never seen

She looked saddened by their disappearance, but when she turned to see you looking at her, the sadness disappeared and was replaced with something else.

A woman taken by the wind

You didn’t know how you felt about each other, you only knew how you thought you felt for her. It made you feel warm and safe, like the cold air couldn’t touch you anymore.

Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

You never wanted to leave her arms, her bed, her life, you wanted to stay as close to her as you could manage for the rest of your existence. You swore it to the stars that watched you, whether you could see them or not.

Will you ever win?

You were living in a time when it wasn’t an option to even think that way, but you didn’t think about it. You just were, and you knew Peggy’s inclinations were on the same line.

Rhiannon

You spent one night a week, usually filing night, tucked up in her room, laughing at something dumb one of the agents had said. It was mere luck you were picked to join this branch of the SSR, and you got the one in a million agent to work by your side.

She rings like a bell through the night and

Whether it was just you or both of you, you no longer cared. You wanted it all, the suffering that would come with it, the rejection, the stares. You would take anything, just for a glimpse to be with Peggy.

Wouldn't you love to love her?

Peggy started arriving to work earlier, knowing you had to be there first to make sure everything was right. She came with extra coffee or tea, depending if you’d stayed the night at hers or not, and an extra coat on the colder days for the colder nights.

She rules her life like a bird in flight and

Your heart broke when she fell for Daniel. It was plain and clear, anyone could see it, and you were happy for her.

Who will be her lover?

She went to LA, not just for him but for everything, leaving you behind. You had been expecting it for a while, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

All your life you've never seen

You didn’t cry, you devised a plan to fix it all, every last part, but you didn’t move to follow her, you didn’t chase her to the ends of the earth.

A woman taken by the wind

Anything you had was only that, you loved every moment, you loved the idea of her, and you definitely loved Peggy, but you weren’t the one for her. No one had been capable in her mind for so long, you hoped you would break her out of it. But she was in LA, and she was going to stay there.

Would you stay if she promised you heaven?

You were still in the same apartment, still slept in the same bed, still ached for her touch and her gaze, the way she cared. When she showed up at your door, suitcase in hand, asking for a couch, you saw how she saw you, and for her, it was always you.

Will you ever win?

@marvelfansince08love @mymarvelwomen @imnotasuperhero

#songfic #request complete #anon #asks #peggy x reader #peggy carter #agent carter #marvel #fanfiction

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samsexualdeancurious · 4 years ago

Text

Counter Curse | Part Two

Pairing: Sam x Rowena

Words: 1,236

Summary: Sam and Rowena get to go on that date.

Warnings: None

Written for Susan for her October 2019 Angel request

Betaed by @saxxxology

---

Sam hasn’t been this nervous for a first date in forever. He feels a little dumb being nervous, though - it’s not like Rowena is a stranger. He’s known her for years and while she did start off as an enemy, she, like her son, has become someone Sam might be inclined to call a friend. Not to mention, she’s absolutely gorgeous and smart and he’s realizing now, as he adjusts his tie in the mirror and then runs a hand through his hair, that he likes her. He likes her a lot.

Rowena is waiting for him in the library, looking absolutely stunning in a sleek deep blue dress with a high neckline, long sleeves, and a lacy design with sparkly things Sam can’t name scattered over it. Her hair is perfectly styled, pinned back on top with curls tumbling loose around her shoulders. She smiles when she sees him and Sam’s stomach does a little flip.

“You clean up well, Samuel,” she says as he approaches. “Just let me…”

Small hands come up to straighten his tie and then smooth it flat. Sam’s breath catches in his throat and she gives him a knowing look.

“Not yet,” Rowena almost coos, reaching up to pat his cheek. “I’m a third date kind of girl.”

She walks away before Sam can formulate any sort of response.

---

The restaurant Sam found is by far the nicest around and Sam feels out of place even in the parking lot. Baby is beautiful but she sticks out like a sore thumb in a lot full of high-end cars. Sam tugs at his sleeve as he rounds the car to open the door for Rowena, determined to be the perfect gentleman and give her the night out she deserves. She thanks him sweetly and hooks his hand in the elbow he offers her.

“This place is so nice,” Rowena observes as they enter the restaurant.

“It’s definitely nice,” Sam replies, eyeing the clearly expensive decor as the approach the hostess stand.

The hostess gives Sam a critical once over, one eyebrow raised, before smiling at Rowena. “Do you have a reservation?”

Sam can’t help bristling a little at being so blatantly judged. “Two for Winchester,” he says, frowning.

The hostess eyes him but nods and leads them to a table against one wall. Sam makes sure to pull Rowena’s chair out for her and tuck it in the way he remembers learning in an etiquette class he took in high school.

“Such a gentleman,” she says, flashing him a brilliant smile. “Who would’ve guessed. There’s certainly more to you than meets the eye.”

Sam feels heat rising in his face as he takes his own seat, unsure how to respond. Thankfully, Rowena doesn’t seem to expect a response.

“Such an excellent selection,” Rowena continues, admiring the wine list the hostess left them. “Do you have any preferences?”

Sam shakes his head, scanning his menu and picking out something he thinks he would enjoy. “You’re better at this than I am.”

Rowena’s expression softens and she reaches over to give his hand a quick squeeze. “Follow my lead, then.”

The waiter arrives then and things move on as smoothly as possible. Rowena seems more than happy to take charge, ordering wine for both of them. Sam’s never been big on wine but he’s sure whatever Rowena chooses will be delicious.

“I refuse to speak about hunting during this date,” Rowena says once the waiter is gone.

“I’m okay with that rule,” Sam chuckles, picking at a tiny flaw in the hem of his cloth napkin.

He’s surprised how well the conversation flows. He’s never really sat down and talked to Rowena outside of hunting stuff, and he quickly decides he needs to talk to her more. She’s snarky and well-spoken, and has over three hundred years of life experience to draw upon. Sam loves listening to her stories - like the time she was hired by an American spy to help him get the knowledge he needed from a British soldier during the Revolutionary war. Sam finds himself leaning forward, completely enraptured by every word that comes out of the tiny Scotswoman’s mouth.

When their food arrives, Sam watches to see Rowena lean left to allow the waiter to place her first course on the table. He makes sure to imitate that when the waiter leans in to set Sam’s plate down. It’s almost like there’s a dance going on - one he’s still learning.

“You’re doing very well,” Rowena assures him. “Just remember to start on the outside and work in.”

Sam nods - he does remember that much from his etiquette class, thankfully. The rest of the meal progresses in about the same way, the pair swapping stories as the waiter replaces empty plates with their next courses. Rowena is easy to talk to - much easier than anyone Sam’s been on a date with in a very long time. Dinner goes by much quicker than Sam expected and he almost forgets how uncomfortable he is. Almost.

“Would you like anything for dessert?” the waiter asks once they’ve finished their main course.

Sam glances over at Rowena and is surprised to see her shaking her head.

“No, thank you,” she says. “Just the check.”

“You’re sure?” Sam inquires after the waiter leaves.

“I’m sure,” Rowena assures him. “There’s somewhere else I would like to go for dessert.”

---

Once Sam’s paid and they’ve returned to the Impala, Sam allows Rowena to direct him through the streets until they pull into the parking lot of Rosie’s Diner, a place Sam knows well. It’s Dean’s favorite place to stop when they get home late from a hunt and he doesn’t feel like cooking. The owner, Rosie, is a sweet older woman who doesn’t do much work in the shop these days. Instead, her daughter Emma is taking care of most of the day-to-day operations.

“Here?” Sam shoots Rowena a puzzled look.

She weaves her fingers into his. “I saw how uncomfortable you were at that restaurant. It was so kind of you to step out of your comfort zone to please me. I figured we should go somewhere for you next. Besides,” she squeezes his hand, “they have good milkshakes here.”

“Hi, Sam, Rowena,” Emma says brightly when Sam and Rowena enter with a ding of the bell. “No Dean tonight?”

She genuinely looks a little disappointed when Sam shakes his head. “Not tonight. He’ll probably be by soon for one of your pies, though.”

That idea seems to brighten Emma up and she happily leads them to a booth. “Do you already know what you would like or do you need a moment to decide?”

“I want the pistachio milkshake,” Rowena says without hesitation. “Sam?”

“Caramel fudge.” Sam doesn’t get milkshakes often but caramel fudge is definitely one of his favorites.

Emma scribbles those both down. “Alright, anything else?”

“Nope, that’s it,” Sam says after a quick glance at Rowena for confirmation.

“Alright! Those will be ready in just a moment.”

Emma bounces away and Sam lifts an eyebrow at Rowena.

“I didn’t know you came here,” he says.

She smiles, bright and a little mischievous. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sam Winchester.”

“I would like to learn,” he replies honestly.

“Don’t worry,” she assures him as the whir of the old fashioned milkshake machine fills the diner. “We have plenty of time.”

---

Like this fic? Support me longterm on Patreon HERE or make a one-time donation on Ko-Fi HERE.

—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @imsuperawkward @emoryhemsworth

#samwitch #sam x rowena #spn fanfic #my writing

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justicedreams · 4 years ago

Note

"... everyone heres losing memories. got in a- a um, dis- disagreement with Erebus-" fuck, their eyes teared up at that. they brush the moisture away from the tip of their dumb before it can fall. "and you've got a glitching 'spider' leaving golden webs all over your basement. and I'm worried about Raine, because facing your fears and being reassured that they're nothing when they very much in fact are something is not going to make her more inclined to believe when people reassure her in the future... but Erebus doesn't even remember Flare, how could he know how utterly fricking terrifying that man can be when he doesn't even remem-"

Okay. Lots of emotions.

{Bells is in his arms the next moment being held tight to his chest as he curls ever so slightly around them}

Sshhhhh

{The guardian hums wrapping them in his wings protectively}

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liftdaddyla · 4 years ago

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The Way To Select Your Own Great Home Workout Equipment

A house fitness center is just a compact component of equipment built to enable you to execute lots of exercises in the one channel. These are also referred to as multi-gyms or even multis. All these workstations are intended to squeeze into a spare room, garage or cellar therefore that you can certainly do weight training in your residence.

Finding the best Home Workout Equipment From Lift Daddy

Working Out home since many benefits. In the event you select house could be your ideal place as opposed to your gym for you, another step is to decide liftdaddygymequipment that you need. Before you venture out for the closest store, below are a few points to consider first.

The most-popular, midsize multi-gyms normally include the Subsequent:

Flexible seat for sitting or reclining

Stacked metal weights together with pin selection for load

Pull-down pubs chiefly for your Lat Pulldown back exercise

Press pubs for pulling and pushing, for shoulders, arms, and back

Leg extension system for quadriceps muscles of the thigh

Leg-curl system for exercising the hamstrings in the back of the thigh

Seated cable-row method for back and arms workout.

Types of Set-ups

You've got many possibilities for establishing a home gym, but your choices to weight training mostly fall into the classes below. Lift Daddy exercise equipment including treadmills, rowers, and stationary bicycles are often options; but for the time being, I will concentrate on weight training equipment.

Mixtures of mobile gear

Dumb-bells, bench, balls, steps, rings, matsand ab employees etc.. Nothing overly complicated here, only plain but pliable gear. The Reebok Weight Bench with contained dumbbell set is a very favorite rookie.

Free weight channels

Adjustable benches, power stands for holding barbells, dumbbells, barbells, and plates (spherical weights). Mostly movable equipment for longer high quality use.

Multi-gyms based on composite or steel strings and bands. The bending ring creates the resistance.

Total Fitness concept

This idea employs an adjustable height, inclined bench and sliding chair stage which works by using your body weight to improve resistance.

Multi-gyms based on piled weights

This popular configuration uses a cable and pulley mechanism with piled weights. Just move the foliage to decide on the fat. LiftDaddy offer you best gym equipment that's necessary for you personally.

Multi gyms using supply for free weight plates

The curved weights have been manually fitted to the barbell extensions. Case in Point: Powertec Workbench.

Smith Device multi-purpose combinations

The normal Smith device uses a mechanism that constrains the bar in one perpendicular airplane, unlike free-weight benches and stands. These dwelling fitness center multi add extra attachments to reach a flexible work station.

With this particular gym, you're going to be in a position to aim every portion of your body from your arms to your chest for your legs. It also comes with a burden stack lock to make certain your plates are securely secured.

#Lift Daddy #liftdaddy #gym #exercise

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crimsonbluemoon · 6 years ago

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TerrorMoo April-May Event

Hello everyone! I’m happy to say I did a fun event in the @bbsshippingpirates server for the BBS boys. Me and @callmegreens got paired up, so please enjoy our lovely work together. And when they post their collab piece, I’ll share it on here!

Green’s Picture: FIND ME HERE! (Its seriously so cute I can’t even >.<)

TerrorMoo Drabble

“You need a dog.” Brian rolled his eyes when he tweaked the wrench around the engine above him, trying to ignore the annoying co-worker still chattering somewhere in the shop. “Having Joe and Tony helps give me purpose, ya know? Keeps me young and shit. Really helped me when I-”

“I’m not getting a bitch to replace a bitch,” Brian interrupted, finally pushing out from under the car to glare up at his scowling friend.

“They don’t like being called that, ye know. Dogs have feelings.” The fact that Nogla, the sweetest guy Brian had ever met, was defending the canine over Brian’s ex made it clear how little he thought of the woman. Erika was terrible to Brian, and their three month relationship had been bound to fall apart from the beginning. Having her move out had been a painful, but gratifying experience, full of screaming and bruises from the things she’d thrown at him. Even after a month, he could still feel the pain in his chest from the alarm clock she’d thrown at him before dragging the rest of her stuff out of his house.

“You don’t just buy a pet when you break up with someone.”

“Then just go look at em! I’ll even go with ya; I’ve gotta get a new chew toy for Tony.”

“What happened to last week’s toy?” Brian asked, wiping the grease from the side of his face. His lips dropped into a scowl when realizing that it didn’t matter much when oil took its place from the radiator he was fixing minutes before.

“Joe ate it. He’s been shitting rubber for days.” The image Nogla painted in Brian’s head didn’t make his desire for a dog increase an inch if it meant having one as dumb or reckless as the two mutts Nogla owned. “Aw, come on. Just skim em, and if ya hate em, I won’t bother ye again.”

“You bother me every day just clocking in.” He grinned when Nogla sputtered, but finally gave into the idiot’s pleas when fully laying down onto the creeper pressed against his spine and sliding back under the car. “But sure, I’ll come with ya tonight and get a new toy for Tony.”

“Good! And make sure to hose yerself in the back, ya? Ye smell like ya fucked a lawn mower.”

Brian could only hope his arm extended out far enough for Nogla to see him flipping him off under the car.

~**~

He didn’t know why Nogla was worried about his smell; the pet shop was far worse than his auto shop. His nose scrunched from the smell of dirty hamster shavings near his head when he walked in, glancing to the rodent already staring at him with stuffed cheeks. The little thing was a golden tan and blended in far too well with his environment, which he proved when burying under the bedding to hide. Never a fan of the small pets, Brian turned away, taking in the store. Far bigger than he’d expected, the pet shop was filled with all types of animals and supplies that Brian wasn’t sure of how to use. He walked through the place slowly, keeping his eye on the owl that squawked at Nogla upon the two passing. If his friend minded the annoying screech, he didn’t show it, eyes already bright when glancing around.

“Brock? Ye in here? I need a new toy for Tony.”

“Be right out!” The pretty tone of the shopkeeper caught Brian’s ear, but he couldn’t locate the owner from behind the door of the ‘employee only’ area. Before he could ask, a painful yank on the back of his hair made Brian swear, batting at the pointed beak which had caught him. Nogla’s laugh did nothing to disturb the owl, who made sure to drop a hoot after Brian had finally stumbled away from the crazy bird.

“What the fock is that?” Brian asked, Nogla dropping an arm around his shoulders with a far to wide grin.

“Meet Vanoss, Brock’s attack owl.” Nogla spent far too much time in the store from his knowledge of the animals, and Vanoss seemed far more inclined to let Nogla by his cage when he tapped on the sign on the corner. In an elegant cursive swirl, the words ‘Be careful around the cage; Vanoss may bite’ were written onto the owl’s info page.

“Why is he here? You can’t even own owls here, can you?”

“Well, no,” Nogla agreed, shrugging when Vanoss starting to nip at the shoulder of his shirt. “He’s a barn owl, but he got hurt a couple weeks back and Brock’s technically the only guy around with a license to foster him until he can go back into the wild. The bird’s too smart to leave in his house alone, so Brock takes him here.”

“Oh no, did Vanoss bite someone again?” The voice from before floated through the air, and Brian’s eyes darted to catch the pretty brown stare worriedly glancing over his face. “I’m sorry, he’s just used to prey moving in the barn; he doesn’t know any better. I’m Brock, the owner of the store. Are you okay, sir?”

“Uh…” And though Brian had never missed a chance to charm the pants off any pretty guy or girl that caught his fancy, this time his tongue firmly stayed tied. Because the beautiful man in front of him was a paradox he couldn’t process. The fuller hips were wrapped in the ugliest lime green apron that Brian had ever seen, pink cheeks framing a nervous smile and flushed neck. The newcomer wasn’t too tall or short, and maybe some would consider him plain. But Brian’s eyes didn’t want to miss a single detail of the other who glanced between him and Nogla with an apologetic aura that made Brian want to gather him in his arms and glare at whatever had caused the look.

Except that had been him, and he still hadn’t responded to the question.

“You’re fine.” Nogla’s loud burst of laughter at Brian’s blunder made the mechanic glare over to his friend and jab him hard in the ribs with his elbow, gaining his bearings back after seeing Nogla wheeze out from the hit. Shaking his head once, Brian gave a grin that he knew hit the mark when the pink coiled into red on Brock’s face. “Sorry, I mean it’s fine. I’m Brian, and Nogla didn’t tell me this place was owned by such a cute-”

“Oh!” Brock’s sudden cut off of Brian’s attempt at a flirty line was paired with widened eyes, the smile that brightened his face momentarily leaving Brian far too off his game and breathless to care. “You’re Nogla’s friend.”

“Don’t say that too loud.”

“Fock you, Brian!” It was automatic to toss out the quirky line, and Nogla’s loud protest blowing out his eardrum beside him was worth it when hearing Brock’s cute laugh.

“I’m so happy you finally came around to adopting one of our puppies.” Brian’s mind blinked at the words twice as hard as his eyes did, but Brock didn’t seem to notice when moving forward. The warm fingers that curled around his hand made the confusion and warning bells shift into the 1% of his brain that wasn’t occupied on remembering the warm scent of vanilla that he picked up from how close Brock had gotten. “We just got a litter of puppies ready for sale last week. I’m sure they’ll sell fast, but I wanted to give you the chance of the first pick because Nogla told me about your loss.”

“My loss.” He repeated the words slowly, glancing to where he’d left his friend when Brock gave a nod.

“He told me that you’d recently lost your dog, Erika, last month.” It was almost a surprise that Nogla was now gone, hiding down one of the aisles to avoid Brian’s seething glare. If it wasn’t for how good Brock’s soft fingers felt squeezing around his own in unearned sympathy, Brian would have torn the place down to shove Nogla’s head into a fish bowl. “I’m so sorry for your loss. How old was she?”

“Twenty six; same as me.” Brian gave a final try of activating his x-ray vision to see where the coward was hiding before looking back to Brock, shaking his head when catching how the other’s brows knitted together in confusion. It was a cute look, but Brian wasn’t sure this man knew how not to be adorable at this point. “Erika wasn’t my dog, she was my ex-girlfriend.”

“But Nogla had called her a bit-” Despite being annoyed with his best friend, Brian had to admit it was amusing to see the sudden realization cross over Brock’s face before it burst into flames, his free hand waving in front of him as if expecting Brian to swing. “Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t know he meant- this is so embarrassing, and I’m still holding your hand like a creep-”

“Breathe, Brock. I’m not mad at you.” And to add to the statement, he gave the hand still linked with his a squeeze, enjoying the warmth of the palm now rubbing against his. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be that beanstalk of a moron.”

“Why would he do this?”

“I think I know why.” If his best friend loved one thing more than potatoes and his dogs, it was matchmaking. He was the reason Brian’s old roommate, Evan, had finally gotten the accidental guts to confess for his now fiancee, mainly because Jonathan was far too stupid to realize how in love both of them were with each other. Nogla had also worked with the college to setup a cupid event last valentines day, sneakily hooking up several more couples without the pairs even realizing Nogla’s mischievous meddling. And though he wanted to be mad at the man who definitely wasn’t peeking around the fish tank to watch their interaction, he knew Nogla’s intentions were good.

“So I guess you don’t need to see the puppies, then.” The awkward disappointment in Brock’s tone when he shifted his weight between his feet paused Brian’s immediate answer of ‘yes’, taking the moment to truly look at the man in front of him. He didn’t seem like someone trying to simply make a deal to get rid of his product; he looked genuinely upset that someone wouldn’t be looking at the new litter. Brock’s face was so expressionate, with no sense of worry of showing the heart that looked ready to burst on his sleeve from his genuine feelings. It was an honesty that was rare in the world. And Nogla had picked Brock for Brian, which his friend didn’t do on a whim. He’d seen something in the charming shop keeper, enough to trick both of them into meeting each other.

And though Nogla was a moron, he wasn’t always stupid.

“You got a place to play with em?” Brian’s shoulder shrug at the stunned look he received, letting his smile flow into something that lacked his flirty signature. “I really am a dog person, and it’s been a while since I’ve owned one. Not really sure how to raise a puppy this small.”

“I, uh.” Brian held back his laugh at how slow Brock’s reaction was before he nearly pulled off Brian’s arm when leading him to the back cages. “O-of course! We have a playpen where you can interact with the dogs, and we give free starter kits when you adopt any puppy younger than six months old. It comes with food, a leash and harness, three toys, and...and maybe some in-home training sessions.”

“Maybe?” Brian teased, enjoying the way Brock’s ears warmed when he caught the hitch in the offer. “Is that offered to all customers, or just us cute ones?”

“S-shut up.” The sass was a surprising bite that made Brian finally give in to his laughter, letting himself fall into the warmth that had been buzzing between them since first hearing Brock’s voice. They played with each puppy, and then every dog in the whole store, Brian dragging out the interaction with Brock for as long as he could. Nogla kept scarce for most of the night, which should had bothered Brian more if he wasn’t so enamored with how perfect Brock looked with a lap full of overeager puppies licking his face. And though he hadn’t intended on actually buying a dog, much less a puppy, seeing the unique blue-eyed german shepherd yipping happily when untying Brock’s apron for the third time was enough to steal Brian’s will to stay strong.

He left the pet shop two hours later with Terroriser (“Ya can’t name a dog that, Brian!” “Shut up, Nogla, its my puppy and I’ll do what I want with em.” “You two are supposed to be friends, right?”), too many toys, and more food than he thought he had for himself in his house.

But he also had Brock’s number and a date Friday night, which was enough to deal with Nogla’s bragging all the way back to the auto shop.

And thats the cute story! Make sure to go give love to Green for their cute pic, I loved it! And as always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think ^.^

#TerrorMoo #Soft boys #terroriser #Moo Snuckle #Crimson drabblez #<3 #April-May Event

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shaniahnoel · 6 years ago

Text

Everything Has Changed: Chapter 7

Word Count: 2300

Warnings: Some mention of trauma?

Master List

It was hard to look at her father in the hospital bed. He was superman, but now he’d met his kryptonite. There was an oxygen mask on his face and tubes coming out of him in several places. His strong arms laid limply at his sides, one heavily bandaged. The blankets hid his lower body for which she was grateful. Each breath seemed to pain him, and Riley stared down at the hand she held, unable to gaze elsewhere. She kept a firm grip on Ellie in her lap who couldn’t contain her curiosity and had nearly pulled out her father’s IV twice.

“Do you want to do the mechanic work?”

“I want to help in any way that I can. I can do it.”

She meant to glance up quickly, but he caught her gaze and held it. “I’ll be okay, Riles.”

“I know,” she answered thickly, trying to stifle the tears. “It’s just… you look so…,” she nuzzled her face into Ellie’s shoulder to hide. Her father squeezed her hand firmly.

“It’s not permanent, sweetheart. I’ll listen to the doctors and be better before you know it. In the mean time I can’t think of anyone better to take over my spot.”

When they went home from the hospital, Riley felt numb. Ellie’s giddiness returned, and her mother was talking to her grandparents, organizing plans for them to come and help for the next few weeks, while Riley watched out the window, unable to get her father’s broken body out of her head. She went to bed without dinner and turned this way and that before finally falling into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Riley woke herself up crying, hopelessly entangled in her blankets. Her father’s face flashed before her eyes, covered in blood and unresponsive. She scrambled across the floor, barely turning the trash can before her stomach noisily lost its contents. Breathing heavily, she pulled herself into a sitting position against the wall. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him, and her stomach would shift again. Her mother found her there on the floor an hour later. She didn’t say a word but sat and gathered her up into her arms. Riley felt like a small child in her mother’s lap, crying silently as she stroked her hair.

“I can’t get it out of my head. There was so much blood. So, so much blood,” she choked out.

“I know, honey, I know. But daddy’s okay now.”

“He’s broken,” Riley mumbled. Her mother drew in a soft breath but didn’t speak for a moment.

“Your father is the strongest man I’ve ever met. Seeing him in the hospital bed is hard, I know, but he’s been through worse and he’s always come back better for it.”

Riley knew that was true, she’d stayed up late many nights begging him to tell stories of his crazy days. He’d been mountain climbing, snowboarding, and even skydiving once. She’d loved the stories and was even more amazed that he was still standing after each one. He’d felt superhuman, but last night she’d seen his humanness—saw the blood behind the scars and it terrified her.

“Why don’t you stay home today, sweetheart? You can get back to school tomorrow.”

“No,” Riley wiped her face, “I can’t sit here. I’ll be okay.”

Her mother nodded and pressed her lips to her forehead before moving to get ready for work. Riley took a deep breath to steady herself and then got busy, grabbing some clothes and heading into the shower. The warm water calmed her frenzied nerves and she took the time to carefully dry her hair and apply make-up. It had always been her way to compensate for feeling crappy. Ellie was jumping around the house chattering endlessly about the new story to tell her friends and asking their mom when dad would come home. Riley caught her arm and kissed the top of her head before grabbing her mom into a tighter hug than usual. She played her music a little louder as she stepped onto the bus, the numb feeling returning.

The trio was waiting at her locker, Iris and Kieran seeming anxious. Iris reached her first pulling her into a tight hug while Jake patted her shoulder, the usual grin on his face. Kieran wrapped his arms around her, smile faltering as she pulled away from his grasp quickly to turn to her locker. Jake started talking about the upcoming football game and she sighed, happy for the shift in focus. The steady tempo of approaching boots told her the Serpents were arriving and she wondered if there was a rule about always moving in a pack. Toni stopped with Sweet Pea and Fangs at her side.

“How’re you holding up?” Toni asked, reaching for her hand.

“It was a rough night, but today’s better,” she answered with a smile. “In a few days the shop will open up again, and I’ll be in the garage.”

“Still going to have a pissy cashier out front,” Sweet Pea asked, a taunting edge to his voice.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” Kiera said, immediately responding to the challenge. Sweet Pea stepped forward, straightening up and Riley closed her eyes. Coming to school had been a mistake.

“You’re not worth my time,” Sweet Pea said quietly, forced calm in his voice. Without another word, the Serpents broke away, Toni throwing an apologetic look over her shoulder. Kieran fumed beside her a moment more before strutting away with Jake and Iris.

Shortly after they headed off and Riley slipped into her classroom where she was surprised to find that Sweet Pea had swapped with the Serpent in front of him, placing him right beside her.

“Thanks,” she said tentatively, angling herself towards him. He remained facing forward, but the glare on his face seemed to lessen some.

“For what?”

“For stopping.”

“I figured one of us should acknowledge you,” Sweet Pea sounded irritated as he turned towards her slightly.

“What,” Riley asked but, Mrs. Dabney walked into the room, and Sweet Pea shushed her mockingly. The morning announcements were short, but she pulled out a homework assignment and pretended to check over it. Sweet Pea swung around to talk to the other Serpents and she focused on staying in the present. When the bell rang, he fell into step beside her and she noticed his presence felt warm again.

“So, you’re done being mad at me,” she said, trying to break the ice.

“For now; people say I have anger issues, apparently.”

“Imagine that,” she said, suppressing a laugh.

“Riley,” Kieran’s voice rang out behind them. She stopped, turning in surprise at his harsh tone. Sweet Pea made as if to stand between them, but Riley touched his shoulder and inclined her head towards the end of the hall. His jaw hardened, but he strode into the classroom, sending a few students scattering in his wake. Kieran glared after him before turning the flames on her.

“I thought you weren’t talking anymore,” he asked, gesturing to where Sweet Pea had disappeared.

“It varies,” she said with a small laugh.

“Do you always walk with him?”

“Yeah,” Riley said, her confusion making the words a question. “We share first period and come from the same homeroom…?”

“Convenient.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Honestly, Riley, do you have any self-respect?”

“Excuse me,” her eyes widened in shock.

“Don’t play dumb. Everyone sees the way that you talk to Fangs and now Sweet Pea again. The rumors are spreading.”

“Yeah, and how many of them have you started? Because there’s nothing going on with either of them.”

“It doesn’t matter, Riley. You associate with people like that and your life will head down the tubes, right with ‘em.”

“Just because you’ve finally noticed that I’m datebable doesn’t mean you get to play Mr. Possessive.”

This time it was Kieran’s turn to appear taken aback.

“Don’t play dumb,” Riley mimicked, “You’ve got some sort of complex over the summer that’s made you decide you have some claim on me and keep getting pissed off at any guy that approaches. Hell, if Jake wasn’t dating Iris you’d probably be all over me for talking to him.”

“He’s not a--,” Kieran said, his voice raising.

“A what? A Serpent? Well that’s a shame now isn’t it,” Riley said, her voice raising an octave.”At least the Serpents have actually cared that my dad is in. the. hospital.”

The warning bell rang, and Riley shook her head, turning to her classroom. He made no attempt to stop her from walking away for which she was grateful. Every conflicting feeling was bubbling within her, each combining with the other in the most unpleasant way.

Sweet Pea was perched on the back of his chair, silently daring Mr. Kendrick to complain about his position—the students behind him had already shifted over. His taunting expression shifted to one of concern as Riley took her seat beside him, but she stared straight ahead, willing time to move quickly. Once the final bell rang, last week’s test was passed back and the torrent of emotions she was feeling found their place to break free. Tears rolled down her face silently, and when the period ended she made her way slowly to the front of the room.

“Can I have help sessions,” she asked quietly, as the last students trickled out of the classroom. Mr. Kendrick’s look was pitying, and Riley tried not to focus on how much she hated it. He glanced over his calendar and nodded.

“Come in early on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s and I’ll see what we can do. You’re a good student, Riley. These formulas don’t come easy to everyone.”

Riley nodded her thanks and walked out of the classroom, the second failed test curled in her hand. To her surprise, Sweet Pea was leaned outside of the door. She was sure that he had to have heard the conversation, but he didn’t even acknowledge her presence save for turning to walk alongside her.

“I’m sorry if I caused problems,” he said quietly, as they approached her next class.

“Problems?”

“Walking with you. I’m sorry if I pissed off your boyfriend.” The words almost sounded effortless.

“He was never my boyfriend,” Riley started, trying to control the fire in her voice, “and, please, I’m done with games. Just be real, Sweets, I like you better that way.”

He paused for a moment seeming confused, but then a smile crossed his face.

“I am sorry if it added to your stress buttttt,” he said, extending the word, “pissing him off is one of the highlights of my day.” The cheeky smile he gave her earned a begrudging smile in return.

They’d reached her class, but Riley hesitated. Her heart hurt, her head was pounding, but she was smiling. All because of Sweet Pea. Without thinking she wrapped her arms around his waist, briefly enjoying the smell of leather and grease lingering on his chest. His arms draped loosely around her, patting her back awkwardly. She stepped back, feeling warm.

“I’d like to be friends,” she said quietly, walking into her class.

When free period rolled around, Riley checked her phone to find a lengthy apology text from Kieran. Before she could read it, she found Iris pacing in the courtyard. She was muttering to herself and it looked like she’d been crying. Probably a fight with Jake, Riley thought, rolling her eyes. The twins were more trouble than they were worth.

“Hey beautiful,” Riley said in greeting, bumping into her hip. Iris looked up, blue eyes vibrant against the strained red. Mascara smudged under her water line and she swiped under her eyes once more.

“Hey, how’re you holding up,” Iris asked.

“I think better than you… what’s up?”

“Jake and I had a fight.”

“Must be the day for fighting the twins. What were you fighting about?”

“Nothing important,” Iris said, keeping her eyes averted. “Did you say you had a fight with Kieran?”

“Yeah,” Riley answered slowly, wondering what Iris was hiding. “He told me I didn’t have any self-respect for hanging out with the Serpents. I told him that just because he finally took notice of me doesn’t give him exclusive rights.”

“You’re not usually so assertive,” Iris said, voice laced with pride, causing Riley to laugh.

“Yeah, just another Serpent influence. If I wasn’t assertive with Fangs around I’d have nine tattoos and alcohol poisoning.”

“Sounds like an evening out with Jake,” Iris said with a strange bitterness. Now more than ever Riley was aware of the sadness hovering over her friend. She threw an arm over her shoulder and pulled her towards the gate.

“I could use a break. You?”

Iris nodded in response and allowed herself to be led out into the parking lot. A substitute teacher stealing a smoke break glared at them but said nothing as they weaved through the cars. There were a few other students who shared their sentiments and it was no surprise to see a band of leather jackets among them. The surprise was when a pair of leather jackets turned and called her name.

“Yo, Evans, you leaving too?”

“Only with you, Fogarty,” Riley called back with a grin. Turning to Iris, she asked, “Wanna live a little dangerously?”

Iris looked up in surprise, “Assertive and flirty. Here I thought Sweet Pea was the contender.”

Riley couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled over. She shook her head, looking at Fangs and back at Iris. “It’s just how Fangs’ is y’know? It means nothing.”

“Ouch,” he said in mock hurt, hearing the last words.

“Your ego will heal,” Riley said, “Toni, Fangs, this is my best friend Iris who is in desperate need of a pick me up as am I. Help some girls out?”

Taglist: @ella-full-of-secrets @my-ships-have-sunk@54fangirl@everheart12@inspiredbynewt@poolpartyingwithjaws@southsidesserpent@lynniev @karleedaniels27 @the-greatt-perhaps @lilybellsworld @cherylblossom-komwonkru @oldestfairytale

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #sweet pea x oc #south side serpents #fanfiction

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imagineproduce101 · 7 years ago

Text

Moonstone

You sign up for a Blood Partners program online, which matches humans up with vampires to get fed on and be paid for their services (college is expensive). You’re paired up with Kim Yongguk, a kind vampire with money and a lot of secrets.

for anon who requested bullet-style yongguk vampire au

and so, obviously, this is a modern day vampire au (vampires are integrated into society au)

this is super long wtf

also this basically devolved into some weirdass shit and there’s some lowkey (not really) sexy times shit at the end (they make out like wowow), but i know that some like 13 y/os wildin out here reading fucking kinky smut, so let me put it this way: if you don’t know what people with dicks use lotion and tissues for, don’t read towards the end

you glanced down at your phone nervously and then back up at the cafe door

you’d made arrangements to meet kim yongguk at 12:30, and it was already 12:40

it wasn’t like it was a date or anything, but you were still worried about getting stood up

just as you were pulling out your phone to check it again, you heard the bell of the cafe ring, making you look up

a guy, clad in all black with sunglasses and a facemask entered, walking over to you

“(y/n) (y/l/n)?” he asked, his lilting voice instantly enchanting you

“y-yes, that’s me,” you managed to stammer out, getting up to shake his hand

his hands were cold, as though you were shaking a moving piece of marble

“ji-- excuse me, kim yongguk,” he said smoothly, gesturing for you to take a seat, “i’ll quickly go get a drink, but you can read over the contract while i do so, if you’d like.”

you nodded, accepting the manila envelope that he was holding out to you, carefully sliding the forms out

“Of my own free will I, ___________, officially hereby accept _________ as a Blood Partner. For each session, there must be verbal consent given before the Receiving Partner is able to withdraw approximately 500 mL of the Giver’s Blood.”

reading the opening statement of the Blood Partner contract solidified the fact that yes, you were selling your blood to a vampire to pay for college

you’d sold pints of blood to blood stores before, but you didn’t get much profit from those stores, so your friends had suggested switching over to a Blood Partners website

becoming blood partners with a vampire was a common way to get money-- there were websites like the one your best friend had showed you that matched a person up with another vampire to enter a Blood Partner contract

“sorry, did you get a chance to read over the contract?” yongguk asked, taking the seat across from you

he glanced around before carefully tugging his mask down, revealing an angular, handsome face

“yeah,” you nodded, setting the contract down on the table

yongguk took a quick sip of his iced lamb blood before nodding

“obviously, if there’s anything you’d like to add, feel free to let me know at any time,” he said quickly, cheeks reddening a bit, “this is ah, this is my first time signing a Blood Partner contract, so I’m a bit new to the whole process.”

“Really?” you were surprised at that-- most civilian vampires had a good amount of experience with Blood Partners, as the newly turned vampires were held in special care due to their unpredictable nature

“yes,” yongguk replied a bit shyly, cheeks still a bit pink, “my, ah, circumstances have been a bit strange.”

you nodded, not wanting to bother yongguk by pressing any further

“so, are you okay to signing the contract?” yongguk asked, producing another copy, along with a very fancy pen

“oh, yeah, everything looks chill,” you sent yongguk a tentative smile, still a bit nervous about the whole situation

yongguk chuckled at that, scrawling his curling signature on the line before sliding the forms over to you

“you know, in all my time on this planet, i don’t think i’ve ever heard someone refer to a legal contract as ‘chill’.”

“i guess i’m just that one-of-a-kind,” you said playfully, and yongguk made a noise in the back of his throat, watching thoughtfully as you carefully signed the forms yourself

“well,” he said, tucking one of the two contracts into his bag, “i’ll contact you when the first session is needed.”

“right,” you nodded, scrambling to do the same, sliding the contract into your backpack and getting to your feet, “thank you for this, by the way.”

“thank you,” yongguk replied with a small smile, reaching out to gently shake your hand

the cold chill of his hand, coupled with his firm grip, sent a shiver down your spine as he watched you intently as you slung your backpack over your shoulder

“would you require me to drive you anywhere?” yongguk inquired, tilting his head

“huh?” you looked up at him, and shook your head with a smile, “no, it’s okay. i was going to buy a quick cup of coffee anyways, so i guess I’ll see you around?”

a beat passed, and then yongguk quickly nodded his head, cheeks coloring

“yes, of course,” he said smoothly, heading towards the door of the cafe, “thank you again, (y/n).”

as you stood in line again to buy another cup of coffee, you thought over what had just happened, doing your best to process

yongguk didn’t seem like your stereotypical vampire, cold, judgmental and harsh

he was quiet, thoughtful, and clearly at least pretended to care about your wellbeing

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the cafe’s TV, which had switched over to the news

‘Breaking News’, the news anchor narrated dramatically, pausing for effect, “Jin Longguo, the official heir to Sangui Corporations, has officially taken a leading position on the Board of Directors, and is expected to take over the company from his father’s hands within a few weeks, despite his young age.”

you looked up in mild suprise-- jin longguo was a name you’d heard many a time, despite never seeing his face

jin longguo was an Ancient, coming from a line of very old vampire families; his family had been the first to develop blood delivery systems to vampire homes, and had made a fortune and a half from their corporation

his family was famous throughout the world, and longguo was known for his striking good looks

however, most humans had never seen him, as he was unable to show up on tv or camera due to his vampire status

“he’s a successful one, that jin longguo,” the barista commented as he slid you your coffee with a smile, “what I would pay to be in his shoes.”

“i dunno,” you replied, watching as the anchor spoke about the critics of longguo’s succession, citing his young age and inexperience, “he’s so young, i feel bad that he was the public constantly watching him.”

“you know how those vamps are,” the barista said breezily, making you look up at him sharply, “totally unfeeling; it’s not like they give a shit about the world.”

“that’s,,,” you began, ready to argue with the barista before you bit your tongue-- getting into an argument over politics in a coffee shop would just be dumb. “never mind. thanks for the coffee.”

for the next couple of days, you almost-- almost-- forgot about the Blood Partners contract with yongguk

he didn’t try to contact you or anything, but just as you forgot about it, you remembered his intense gaze and cold, cold hands

your friends all questioned you about the meet-up, but you didn’t really have anything to tell them

“all I did was sign a contract,” you laughed, shrugging as you returned to your studying

a week and one day after you’d signed the contract (not that you were counting or anything), yongguk texted you

“if you are so inclined, i would be grateful if you are available for a session.”

you snorted at his polite, formal tone but replied that you were in fact available, to which he informed you that he’d send a car to your apartment

“(y/n)?” a young guy rolled down the window of a shiny black car, pulled up in front of your apartment where you were waiting awkwardly, clad in the t-shirt and jeans you’d been wearing the whole day

you hadn’t been sure if you should change into something nicer, but your friends assured you that you’d be fine

“yes!” you tucked your cell phone into your pocket and got into the front seat, feeling a bit like you were getting into a sinister uber

“i’m sihyun, yongguk’s… friend,” he introduce himself, pulling out into the street smoothly

you nodded, nervously tapping your foot against the car’s rug, and sihyun glanced over at you

“nervous?” he asked casually, smiling over with a friendly expression

“yeah,” you breathed out nervously, “this is my first time, so I don’t really know what to expect.”

“lo--yongguk is very careful,” sihyun assured you, “i’ve known him my entire life-- if at any time you feel uncomfortable, he’ll know instantly.”

you nodded as he carefully pulled up in front of a very fancy high-rise apartment

“he’s in the penthouse,” sihyun informed you, “take a couple deep breaths, you’ll be okay.”

you thanked sihyun and hurried into the apartment building, heart pounding as you boarded the elevator

even the elevator was nice, with thick carpeting and a fancy light fixture

yongguk opened the door as soon as you arrived, dressed in crisp black slacks and a black button-up shirt, unbuttoned a few ways to reveal just a glimpse of a toned chest, and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows

his hair was also slightly messy, as though he’d been running his hands through it, and your fingers itched to smooth it out

upon peering closer, you realized how exhausted he looked

without thinking, you blurted out, “have you been sleeping well?”

yongguk chuckled at that, ushering you inside with a cold hand on the small of your back

“i don’t sleep, (y/n),” he replied, “but i have been working a lot more extensively than usual.”

“why didn’t you ask me to come over sooner?” you asked, “you should take care of yourself, you know.”

he smiled at that, “i knew you had that history paper due yesterday, I didn’t want to distract you from that.”

you looked up at him, startled because a) he cared enough to think about your schooling and b) he apparently knew your schedule?

“i don’t want you to think I’m stalking you or anything,” yongguk rushed out, blushing slightly, “i just wanted to make sure you were in a good place mentally.”

“n-no,” you shook your head shyly, “it’s okay.”

“so, ah,” yongguk could barely meet your eyes, clearly embarrassed as well, “would you like to just get this over with?”

you nodded shyly still, letting him guide you to a stool by the bar in his kitchen, settling down into it

“are you comfortable and okay with this?” yongguk asked, peering into your eyes

“yeah,” you nodded, remembering back to the ‘verbal consent before every session’ clause in the contract

“i’ll begin, then,” yongguk murmured quietly, gently moving your hair aside

you shivered as his stone cold finger brushed across the spot right where your neck met your body at the jugular, something strange fluttering in your stomach

“you’re okay?” he asked, breath fanning across your now bare neck

“yeah,” you responded, breath caught in your throat

yongguk’s mouth was on your neck in an instant, warm on your skin as you fought back a shiver

you felt something akin to a scratching sensation on your neck before something flooded your body, making your fingers and toes tingle

a sensual pleasure washed over you, and you bit your lips to prevent a moan from slipping out

your skin felt almost hypersensitive, and you whimpered slightly as yongguk rubbed your arm, his other hand gently cradling your neck so that you weren’t straining yourself to allow him access to your neck

the sensation was strange, like you were getting the life sucked out of you through a straw, and then it stopped, yongguk sliding his tongue against your bloodied collarbone

you realized that you had been holding your breath and exhaled shakily as he swiftly brought a piece of cotton up, pressing down on the wound

“are you okay?” he asked, and you looked up to meet his eyes, vision swimming due to how dizzy you were

his cheeks were flushed and pupils blown, his normally deep brown irises tinged a slight grey

“dizzy,” you managed to breath out, gasping for air

in a swift motion, yongguk scooped you up, carrying you at lightening speed into another room where he set you down on a mattress, hovering over you in concern

“just rest here for a moment, i’ll bring you some juice and food,” he said, disappearing again

your head spun at his incredible speed, and your thoughts were all over the place, ranging from his crazy vampirical capabilities to how sensual the experience had been

“here,” yongguk said gently, holding out a glass of orange juice and a place, “it’s a peanut butter and banana sandwich.”

you grasped the orange juice glass with slightly shaking hands, downing it in one long gulp before starting on the sandwich

“feeling a bit better?” he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and peering down at you carefully

“yeah, thank you for the food,” you smiled up at him, blushing a bit under his intense gaze

“it’s my duty to take care of you,” yongguk said simply, “like i said-- you’re giving me something special. the least i can do is take care of your every whim.”

“well in that case, could you buy orange juice with pulp?” you asked playfully, appreciating how yongguk’s eyes curved up when he smiled

“i’ll have sihyun go buy some now,” he replied, going to stand up

“no, no, it’s okay,” you laughed at how earnest he was, “for next time.”

“so this experience was to your liking?” yongguk asked, peering over at you, his shyness back

you couldn’t help but flush, remembering how you’d fought to keep any embarrassing noises from escaping you

“yeah, it was,” you opted to say mildly

“well, i’d like it if you could stay for one or two hours, just so i know you didn’t react negatively to any of my hormones,” yongguk explained, “i have some work to do, but the TV is connected to my Netflix account.”

“i think i’ll watch the twilight movies,” you giggled, reaching over for the remote, “i’ll see how you chalk up to edward cullen.”

yongguk groaned at that, walking out of the room at a normal human pace instead of his vampire speed, which you appreciated

you left after a couple hours, choosing to make fun of the twilight movies with a small black cat who had padded into the room curiously, leaping up onto the bed and curling up into your lap

“i see you’ve met tolbi,” yongguk said in amusement as you played with the cat, twilight: breaking dawn part one completely forgotten

“his name is tolbi?” you asked with a smile, wiggling the hair tie with which you’d been playing with him

“yeah,” yongguk smiled at the scene, “i’ve had him not very long, in human or vampire terms.”

“ah,” you nodded, tearing your eyes away from tolbi to look up at yongguk

while he looked significantly less tired than he had when he’d answered the door, his hair was still incredibly messy, and his shirt was more rumpled than when you’d seen him two hours prior

“sihyun has the car ready, if you’re feeling up to going,” yongguk informed you, “not that i’m trying to get rid of you, by any means, but i thought you might be more comfortable sleeping in your own bed,” he stammered out, making you smile at how thoughtful he was

“thank you,” you said earnestly, following behind him, “and thank you for making my first Blood Partner experience so... so not ew.”

“So not ew,” yongguk repeated with a small smile, “right, i’ll keep that in mind.”

the next morning, you checked your bank account to see if you’d gotten paid, and nearly screamed in shock, firing rapid texts to yongguk to meet you asap at the cafe

“was the payment not sufficient?” yongguk asked tentatively, eyes carefully watching you from across the small coffee table

you carefully flipped to the PAYMENT clause of the contract angrily, and your eyes widened as you caught sight of the four-figure amount, given in dollars, per session

“five thousand dollars for 500 mL?” you hissed, fingers running over the printed numbers

“is that not sufficient? i would be happy to boost the amount, i just wasn’t sure what a normal starting amount was,” yongguk rushed out, forehead wrinkling in worry as he pulled the form towards him

“no, no,” you shook your head, “yongguk-ssi, most people are paid a few hundred per session, not thousands. i can’t accept this kind of money.”

yongguk frowned at that, looking back up at you, “i put down $5,000 because that seemed like the correct price. you’re giving up your blood, (y/n). i should respect the value of what you’re offering to me.”

you felt your cheeks heat at his sincere words, ducking your head to look down at the contract

“besides,” he continued, “i believed you mentioned online about your younger sister?”

you sighed, looking down at the huge amount printed in front of you-- yongguk was right

your younger sister had just gotten into a super expensive private high school, but your mom, who was a single mom, didn’t have enough money for tuition, and even with your shitty part-time job, you still couldn’t make enough, which was why you’d tried out a Blood Partner website in the first place

“i guess,” you sighed, tucking the contract away again, ‘it just feels... a bit weird.”

“like i said,” yongguk said earnestly, in a way that made your spine tingle slightly, “i’m here to care to your every need and wish.”

you and yongguk settled into a routine of sorts-- about once every two weeks, he’d ask if you were available (you always were)

after the quick feed, he’d make sure that you were alright, buying you your favorite juices and snacks

his eyes, which turned a grey-silver after feeding, normally returned back to their warm brown by the time you would leave after each session, something you figured was just one of those weird vampire things

he seemed to be swamped with work, but occasionally he’d join you in watching a movie or two before you headed home with sihyun, who was also very kind

tolbi also grew to love your presence, always occupying your lap when you were in yongguk’s apartment

one time, you showed up exhausted from having only gotten two hours of sleep due to an exam that day, and despite his obvious thirst, yongguk had sent you home sternly, emphasizing how important it was for you to take care of yourself

you found yourself genuinely falling for him, a fact that you dreaded dearly

one night, you were gathering your things to head out, tolbi rubbing his body against your leg and getting hair all over your pants, when yongguk appeared in the doorway, an old-looking ornamental box in his hands

“i’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while,” yongguk said tentatively, holding the box out to you, “as a... as a thank you. for everything you’ve done for me.”

you gently opened the box and gasped at the sight of the beautiful necklace-- a simple silver chain with a lovely pendant, silver details curling around a teardrop of an almost milky gem

“wait, is this silver?” you asked, glancing up at yongguk

“pewter,” he explained, gently taking picking the chain up, “and the gem is moonstone. here.” he carefully fastened the chain around your neck

at that point, you were used to the feeling of his cold fingers brushing against your warm skin

“yongguk, thank you,” you said genuinely, playing with the pendant in your hand

“it looks lovely on you,” he said, eyes travelling down to the pendant and back up to your face

you could have sworn his eyes flickered silver, but when you looked again, it was gone

that night, when you’d gotten home, your roommate snorted when she caught sight of your pendant

“wow, (y/n), i didn’t know you were one for knock-offs,” she’d commented offhandedly, mixing her rice to eat

“what do you mean, knock-offs?” you asked curiously, reaching up to touch the pendant, “yongguk gave it to me.”

“well, he’s a cheapass,” your friend replied, shrugging, “everyone knows that’s the Jin pendant.”

“the jin pendant?” you echoed in confusion

“yeah, you know,” your friend waved her hand, “all the ancient families have their pendants that their sons give their mates? that’s the jin one, i think. right, nayoungie?” your roommate yelled for your other roommate, nayoung, who was majoring in Vampire History

nayoung popped out of the bathroom where she’d been drying your hair and nodded

“Jin Longgup has the pendant currently,” nayoung replied, going over to peer at it, “wow, this is a really good copy, I’m surprised.”

“it looks cheap to me,” your roommate, areum, retorted bluntly

“yeah, well, you major in business,” nayoung shot back, “i think i know a little more about this.”

“here,” you unclasped the necklace, handing it to nayoung, “it’s just some fake necklace, you can examine it and nerd out all you want.”

she held the gem up to the light, frowning

“wow, whoever made this fake really put effort into it,” she commented, “the moonstone is real, and the Jin insignia are incredibly precise. honestly, the amount of labor that went into this fake would make this necklace pretty expensive for being just some knockoff.”

“maybe he stole it,” areum joked, “you don’t know much about what this yongguk guy does, do you?”

you frowned, “yeah, i guess i don’t.”

nayoung patted your arm and handed you back the pendant, “i wouldn’t worry about it. from what you’ve told us, yongguk is a really nice guy and genuinely cares about you.”

“yeah, and (y/n)’s in love with him,” areum snickered as you redid the necklace

“i’m not in love with him,” you said with a blush, reaching over to hit areum, “i just,,, really appreciate his company.”

a few days later, you noticed that yongguk was pretty busy

you texted sihyun, concerned that yongguk hadn’t fed in a while, and he’d replied that yongguk was swamped with work, and hadn’t been taking care of himself

it seemed like everyone was busy-- you had a couple huge projects, both nayoung and areum were studying for exams, there was yongguk, hell, even the TV was informing the world that jin longguo was swamped with tasks for the takeover of Sangui Cor.

you figured that yongguk might have just forgotten to text you and ask, so you took the bus to his apartment

the security guard knew your face by then and let you in, and you hopped onto the elevator easily

however, you paused just inside the hall of the apartment, surprised to hear loud voices-- yongguk and sihyun were yelling at each other in the living room

‘hyung, you can’t keep doing this,” sihyun yelled, “she deserves to know”

“i’m not going to hurt her,” yongguk shouted back, “you know i couldn’t bear to.”

“she loves you, hyung,” sihyun retorted, “don’t make life miserable for yourself-- you need to tell her.”

“tell her what?” yongguk asked, and you could hear him pacing back and forth, “tell her what? hey, (y/n), I’m actually Jin Longguo, and you’re the love of my life?”

the bag of cat food that you’d brought for tolbi slipped out of your grasp, and sihyun appeared, yongguk a few feet behind him

“(y/n),” sihyun said cautiously, “how much of that did you hear?”

“is it true?” you asked, tears pricking in your eyes, “you’re jin longguo?”

yongguk--longguo? just stared back at you helplessly

you couldn’t see due to your emotional state and tears, but longguo was visibly pained by the fact that he’d made you hurt enough to cry

“why didn’t you tell me?” you whispered, knowing his vampire ears would still hear it, “do you not trust me? am I just some blood bag for you to suck on and throw away without any sort of real emotion?”

“(y/n),” longguo said painfully, voice shaking

“forget it,” you replied, shaking your head, “i can’t do this, not right now.”

you stormed back onto the elevator, jabbing at the ‘down’ button as tears began pouring down your face

somehow you managed to flag a taxi home, collapsing in your bed wordlessly, nayoung and areum trailing behind you worriedly

after moping for a day or two and barely dragging yourself to class, you finally dredged up what had happened, explaining yourself to nayoung and areum over instant spicy ramen

“and then he says ‘i’m actually jin longguo, and--” your eyes widened as something hit you

your hand flew up to your throat, grasping the pendant that still dangled from your neck

you hadn’t had the heart to take the necklace off, too pained to bring yourself to do so

“and what?” areum asked around a mouthful of noodles

“wait, nayoung,” you gasped, realization flooding your body as a million epiphanies hit you, “when a vampire’s eyes turn silver after feeding, what does that mean?”

nayoung frowned, “that’s extremely rare. some vampires are blessed with True Mates, and their eyes go silver after--” her voice cut off as she stared at you, down at the pendant, and back at your face. “no. yes?”

“what is happening?” areum complained, clutching her head

“the necklace, the eyes,” you scrambled to shove your feet into shoes, frantically calling for a lyft to take you to longguo’s apartment, “nayoung, explain to areum! i have to go fix this.”

you raced into the apartment building, forgoing the elevator in favor of taking the stairs two at a time, bursting into yongguk’s penthouse and startling tolbi, who yowled at you and raced down the hall into yongguk’s study

you followed tolbi, gasping at what he’d led you to

yongguk was in the chair at his desk, slumped over

you hurried over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder

“yongguk--no, longguo,” you said gently, longguo’s eyes meeting you

they were a dark crimson, almost black, and widened when they met your gaze

“(y/n),” he said shakily, “you’re here, i must be dreaming, but how? i can’t sleep?”

“you’re not dreaming,” you said, tears starting to run down your face, “longguo, what did you do to yourself? how long has it been since you’ve fed?”

“t-three,” longguo began, cold fingers weakly curling around your wrist

“three weeks?” you cried, “longguo, now! you need to take care of yourself.”

“a-are your sure?” longguo asked carefully, still concerned about your well being even this close to passing out from lack of blood

“yes, longguo,” you sighed, holding your wrist out

the familiar scratching sensation began, followed by the wave of pleasure, though not as strong as when longguo bit your neck

once he’d had a bit, the color came back to his cheeks and you stumbled to the kitchen, downing a glass of orange juice and some grapes before returning to longguo’s study

“(y/n),” he said quietly, looking over at you from where he rested against his desk, now standing, “why did you come back?”

“because i realized,” you sighed, walking closer to him, “i realized why you gave me that necklace, why it looked like the Jin pendant, why your eyes turn silver when you feed.”

“you shouldn’t be here,” longguo frowned, not meeting your gaze, “i’ve already hurt you once, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg, (y/n). i can hurt you so much more than that, and it would kill me to do so.”

“you would never intentionally hurt me,” you smiled gently, reaching up to finally smooth down longguo’s unruly hair

he leaned into the touch, letting your warm hands caress the side of his cheek

“i love you, longguo,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes, no longer black

they were regaining their silvery color, and you smiled

he gently intertwined his hand with yours, “i love you too.” as he said that, longgup stumbled forward a bit, and you reached out to straighten him

“woah, do you need to feed again?” you asked in concern, reaching up to tug down your sweater

“no, no,” yongguk shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before opening them, “i’ll be alright.”

“longguo, please,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes, “don’t do this.”

longguo stared at you for a moment

“may i--”

“yes, just do it,” you huffed impatiently, rolling your eyes

you felt yongguk smile against your bared skin, the usual shiver going down your spine before the scratching on your jugular

you made a noise in the back of your throat-- something that sounded suspiciously like a moan-- as the wave of sensual pleasure washed over you, more intense than usual

yongguk pulled away, swiping his tongue over the puncture wounds before looking down at you breathlessly

“you’re beautiful,” he said earnestly before crashing his teeth against yours, fangs retracted as he gently pushed his tongue against your lips

as you parted your lips, letting your moans be swallowed by him, you felt his cold hands on your thighs, picking you up with incredible strength

you wrapped your legs around his waist, carefully smoothing his hair out of his beautiful silver eyes

in the background, you heard a crash before you were being settled on the cold wood of longguo’s desk, longguo hovering over you, cold hands carefully sneaking up underneath your thin cotton t-shirt

“longgu--holy shit my fucking eyes,” sihyun screamed, banging his head against the door to longguo’s study as he tried to run out, hand over his eyes

“bleach! bleach! where’s the bleach?”

longguo pulled away breathlessly, gently running his fingers through your hair

“i guess i got a little carried away,” he said in embarrassment, cheeks turning pink, “i’ve just been waiting a really, really long time to do that.”

you smiled at how cute he was, leaning up to press another, much more innocent, kiss to his lips

that night, as you cuddled on the couch with tolbi and yongguk (sihyun had left hurriedly), he explained to you that he’d come across your blood from a Blood Bag once and instantly known you were The One, going so far as to track down your name from the program

so when you’d signed up for the Blood Partners website, he’d pulled as many strings as he possibly could to get paired with you, and it had worked

“you’re adorable, you know that?” you asked, looking over at yongguk, who buried his face in the blankets, ears red, “just hours ago you were ravaging my lips like a true edward cullen, and now you’re blushing at the thought of kissing me.”

“please never compare me to edward cullen again,” yongguk squeaked

you laughed, leaning up to kiss him again, “as long as you promise to treat me better than he treated Bella.”

“I’ll treat you like the goddess you are,” yongguk said earnestly, before leaning down to kiss you again, this one reminiscent of the one you’d shared earlier

tolbi hissed (he was probably saying “bleach! bleach! bleach!”)

me: remembers that a trainee has a stage name and a birth one

also me: yES BRING ON THE MISTAKEN IDENTITY/FAKE IDENTITY TROPE HAHAHAHAAHA

tysm to the smols n tols for listening to my screams as i wrote this

540 notes · View notes

kaoruyogi · 7 years ago

Text

How to Win Wars and Influence Nobles (Ch. 18)

Rating: E for Explicit/NSFW Content!

Check it out on AO3!

You’d think a video game lawyer could just drop into a pseudo-medieval universe filled with magic and demons and be totally okay with it, right?

Nah.

In the wake of her brother, Spencer’s, disappearance, Belle dropped into Thedas with luggage, but without a clue. After a brief but memorable panic attack, she resolved to be the best goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. Even if she was the only goddamn lawyer Thedas had ever seen. And even if that obstinate asshole, Cullen, wouldn’t stop giving her the side-eye every time she walked into a room…Or every time he walked into a room with her in it…Or every time they walked into a room together…Or–Fuck it. You get it.

Chapter 18: The Blood of the Wicked

Hauling Samson from the Arbor Wilds to Skyhold was proving more problematic than Cullen had anticipated. The first problem was the limited cadre that would allow them to travel fast enough to get to Skyhold before any of Samson’s information became useless to the Inquisition. Due to their diminutive ranks, the soldiers alternated watch and guard shifts with the members of the inner circle who had not gone into the Temple of Mythal with Max. Not only was it a logistical complication, but Cullen was constantly forced to intervene when Sera decided she was going to kill Samson after he ran his mouth during her guard rotation.

And Samson did run his mouth. That was the second problem. It was all too likely that the man sought to get himself killed by one person or another before reaching Skyhold where his knowledge of Corypheus’s plans would be plucked from his skull by whatever means Max deemed appropriate. Samson pecked and gnawed at everyone around him, and was spat on an punched more than once for his efforts.

He focused particular attention on Cullen. Samson knew Cullen could hear the red lyrium running in his addled and glowing veins. Samson knew it sang to Cullen in tones that were less dulcet and inviting than they were cloying and demanding. Samson knew Cullen had stopped taking any lyrium altogether. Samson knew too much, and it took every ounce of patience Cullen had not to engage him. Samson’s presence exacerbated Cullen’s withdrawal symptoms. This made that every ounce of patience that much harder to muster. Had Cullen been in the earlier phases of his withdrawal, he might have punched Samson, might have killed him for all he had done. Had he been in the earlier phases of his withdrawal, he might have killed Samson just to suck the lyrium from his marrow. It was a notion that plagued him day and night.

Samson’s harassment doubled when he realized Belle was Cullen’s romantic partner. Samson leered and made obscene gestures and catcalled her. Much of the time she seemed too lost in her own mind to notice. She would stare at nothing, unblinking as they rode and as they ate and as they dressed and as they undressed. She would find her way back to Cullen when he touched her, and she would smile as if nothing at all were amiss. She would laugh if someone said something humorous, and she would engage in conversation to add her perspective, often redoubling the laughter in the air. To the casual observer, Belle was relaxed and normal, jovial and unabashed as ever.

Cullen was not a casual observer. He had held Belle under his magnified scrutiny since the day she fell into Thedas. He noted the way her brow furrowed and her jaw canted after she laughed from time to time, pensive as she chewed the tip of her tongue between her back teeth. The frequency of her sighs after she spoke had increased from her standard brief periods of agitation. Her hands had ceased their fidgeting, instead floating about her face to rub her eyes beneath her glasses. She stirred more in the night, her sleep restless and fragmented.

His attentiveness to her subtle shift in behavior drew his eyes away from Samson more than he should have allowed. On their second to last night on the road, Cullen watched Belle smile while Josephine told a story he could not hear next to a campfire he could not feel. It was his time to guard Samson, which drew him away from the pleasant dinner he might otherwise have been enjoying with Belle and the other advisors and members of Max’s inner circle. Samson had to be kept away for the sake of everyone’s sanity, they had all decided.

“You don’t deserve her, you know,” said Samson, leaning in close enough that Cullen could smell the ancient rot in the man’s mouth.

“There are very few things on which I would find myself inclined to agree with you. But, in this case, you are correct. I don’t deserve her.”

“You don’t deserve any of it.”

“Right again.” Cullen was loath to continue his concessions. He was loath to continue this conversation. Every time Samson opened his mouth, Cullen’s nausea grew. The scent of dead teeth and dying organs wafted out on Samson’s breath, mingling with the screeching song of the red lyrium that seemed to grow louder in an attempt to drown out his words.

“I was a better man than you, Rutherford. I am a better man than you.”

“For a time, you were a better man than me, but I did not poison and kill hundreds of Templars and bind them to a darkspawn magister simply because I was disillusioned with the Chantry and addicted to lyrium I could not obtain by other means.”

“No. You burned mages souls from their bodies, instead. You followed the Chantry like a blind, dumb dog. You enjoyed the hateful shit they fed you. You gobbled it down. Even after you claim to have turned your back on the Chantry, you stayed their dog. Helping Hawke stop Meredith and leaving the Order didn’t change a thing. You joined the Chantry’s Inquisition so you could keep mages locked up forever. That you travel with them and that you work for one of them must really twist your guts.” Samson’s voice had an edge and a viscosity to it. Every word he spoke was like a venomous and creeping ooze. The chains around his wrist jangled with his every weak gesture.

Cullen turned to look Samson in his jaundiced red and blue eyes. “I will not continue to argue with you about the quality of our characters. My reasons for joining the Inquisition had nothing to do with locking up mages. I sought to stop a war I helped start. One that threatened to destroy Thedas. You have chosen the wrong side, Raleigh, and you took good men and women down with you. I am proud of my work with the Inquisition, and I am proud to call the Inquisitor—a mage, as you so thoughtfully mentioned—my friend.”

“Hey.” Belle’s voice rang like a soft chime from nearby. Cullen turned to see her approaching with Sera by her side. The campfire behind the women made Belle’s long curls glow around her shadowed face like the sun eclipsed by a moon. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that she wore a strange kind of smirk that pinched the left side of her face together, marking the equal measures of her concern and amusement. “Don’t feed the trolls.”

She came close enough to put her cool hand on the back of Cullen’s neck. Sera stayed a bit further away, squinting at Samson with her arms crossed. Belle’s fingers pressed and massaged Cullen’s tightened muscles, and he felt his fists relax until they were hands once more. “I just wanted to let you know I’m headed to bed. I know you have a couple hours left on douche duty.” Cullen nodded.

“I bet your cunt tastes like cherries,” said Samson. Cullen’s hands became fists again.

Belle’s eyebrows lifted and she shook her head. “And I bet your dick tastes like a dead man’s toe cheese, but some questions will just never be answered.”

Samson let out a dark chuckle. He must have been quite committed to dying before reaching Skyhold. In all the time Cullen had known him, and in everything he’d ever heard about him, Raleigh Samson had never been a lecherous or prurient man. Despite his blatant self-interest when it came to his lyrium addiction, he was not the kind of man to hound women. Before he had been removed from the Order, he had always been respectful toward women, mage and Templar alike. Even as they removed him from the Temple of Mythal, several women lay among the dead and defeated Red Templars around him.

“Anyway,” said Belle, “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in a bit.” She left a brief kiss on Cullen’s forehead before walking away. Cullen watched her hips sway as she went. Her waving curls had grown down to the inward curve of her back, and her longer hair swung the opposite direction of her hips, like a pendulum.

Sera stayed behind, arms still crossed over her chest. She jerked her head toward the campfire. “I need to talk to you, Commander Fuzzy Shoulders.” Samson snorted, and Cullen looked from Sera to Samson and back. He could not leave their prisoner in favor of a private conversation. She sighed. “Right, you listen, Crotch Rot.”

“I’m all ears.” Samson’s sneer was audible.

“No horses near you. Nothing ‘round for a hundred miles. Try anything stupid, we catch you. And you’ll get an arse full of arrows. Just your arse. Won’t kill you, but will hurt. Lots.”

Cullen watched as the sneer melted off Samson’s face like ice in the spring. He said nothing in answer, but it was clear that he understood. Cullen stood to step away with Sera. The two of them both stood with Samson in their periphery. He was a nebulous cloud of red and black and sickly flesh out of the corner of Cullen’s eye. “What is it?”

“You noticed Belle being all…droopy, yeah? She’s laughing and happy, but it doesn’t get in. Doesn’t get to her eyes.”

Sera’s observation left Cullen taken aback. “I have noticed, yes. I had not realized anyone else had.”

“Pfft.” The blonde elf rolled her eyes and her head in unison. “Course I noticed. Dorian too. Josie might, hard to tell. She’s good at playing her cards close. Leliana definitely. If Bull or Varric were here, they’d see.” Sera took a breath to squint at Samson again before continuing. “She won’t say what’s wrong. If I ask, she smiles and pretends right’s right. You’re her Cully-Wully. She’ll tell you what’s got her all floppy when she thinks we’re not looking, yeah?”

“You know as well as I do that Belle cannot be made to do anything. I have two hours left on my guard shift, in any case, and she’ll be asleep by the time I can speak to her.”

“I’m taking over for the rest.” Sera tapped her foot in the tamped down grass beneath their camp. She reached into one of her pouches and withdrew a weathered and perforated sock. “Got a gag for Crotch Rot, so don’t worry about me killing him. More fun to aim for his arse if he does something stupid, anyway. You ever see a grown man with an arrow in his arse? Good for a laugh, that.”

Cullen’s stare was circumspect. He scanned Sera’s body language for signs of deceit or mischief and saw none. Her blue eyes, ever alight with a thousand simultaneous ideas, were at once clever and troubled. She held his gaze for as long as she could stand before rolling her eyes and her head in unison again. “Go on.” She clapped a hand on his arm and shoved him as hard as a person that much smaller could shove a person that much larger. He abided, listening to her soft footsteps and her sunny voice saying, “Open your mouth, Crotch Rot,” as he made his way toward the tent he shared with Belle.

She had her back to him when he entered, her long fingers plucking away at the laces on the back of her pale gray corset. The wings of her shoulder blades jutted out from beneath her dress that was gauzy and blue as the pre-morning sky. Were it not for the red curls draped over her shoulders and the harried manner in which she tugged at her corset, she would have looked to him as the skies over Honnleath while he fed his family’s livestock as a boy. She would have been the nimbus fog and the crisp, wet air that dampened the barley just so, the way the sheep and horses liked it best.

Cullen had not startled her. She peered over her shoulder and around her firestorm of loose curls, and he saw her eyes smile at him. “I should have known I would spend two hours futzing with this corset,” she said as she turned away. “Out of the seven fucking hundred million I have, I had to bring the one—” She held up her index finger, then brought it back down to the tangle over her spine. “—that doesn’t have clasps along the side.”

He tugged his hands free of his gloves, tossing the soft leather onto the table he installed every night in every one of his tents by sheer force of habit. As the cool evening air hit the sweat on his naked palms, he thought of how feckless that small table was with all its ungainliness and parts and pieces. Purposeless so much of the time. A waste of space.

Belle had managed to loosen the knot for the lower half of the corset, and had moved onto the upper knot. She spat out a fricative half syllable that might have been a curse when her finger was ensnared by the mess of cords. Cullen joined the fray, working faster in light of his clear view of the battlefield and its gangly soldiers. “Sera took over the rest of my watch.”

“That’s weird. You’re not worried she’s going to kill Samson?”

“She brought a sock.”

Belle’s responding laugh was like a spring. It had a bouncy quality to it that very nearly made Cullen forget the reason Sera had relieved him. The fabric of Belle’s corset sighed open when he loosened the final knot. “Ahh, thank you. I could feel the bones digging into my ribcage. Riding in a corset sucks a bag of dicks. I should have brought better clothes.”

Cullen doffed his mantle, speaking as he unfastened his pauldrons from his cuirass and his cuirass from his breastplate. “Sera is worried about you.”

Belle still had her back to him. She slid the corset down past her hips, stepping out of it and setting it on the table beside his gloves. Her bare toes flexed in the grass beneath their feet. “Why’s that?”

“I have been worried, too,” said Cullen. Belle slipped out of her breeches, finally turning to help him with his breastplate. Her lips pursed and moved to the left side of her face. “You have not been yourself since we left the Arbor Wilds.”

“Oh? And who have I been?”

“Maker’s breath. Please don’t be glib.”

“Then you don’t be precious. Tell me what you mean.” She took his breastplate from his chest while he held the backplate.

“You have been…pensive.”

“I’m usually pensive.” Belle turned away again. She pulled her dress up over her head, revealing her shimmering scar and a myriad of red indentations from her ribs to her hips. She ran a finger up one of the painful-looking marks and hummed out her displeasure. Her nightdress covered everything in short order. “I think a lot. For example, right now I’m thinking about what you’re trying to ask me. But you’re being oblique and it’s making deciphering your meaning difficult.”

Cullen crossed their tent in one stride. He spun to sit on the bed so he could look her in the eye. “Please don’t be so evasive.”

“I’m not being evasive.”

“You are. You have been distant and silent at the oddest moments. You’re being combative with me, and I’m only trying to figure out how I help you feel better.”

Belle sighed through her nose and leveled her gaze with his. “I’m fine. That’s what’s bothering me. Okay? I fucking killed a guy. A guy was alive and now he’s not, and I have absolutely no qualms with that.” Her voice wound itself tighter and tighter. “I’m just one hundred percent fine with the fact that guy is dead. I’m really fucking struggling with that. Like, does that make me a stone cold killer? Am I just…” She threw her hands up and shook her head. Her eyes went wider and wider. “Like, am I just totally cool with killing whoever now? Am I evil now because I don’t care that that douchecanoe is dead? Am I going to Hell? Is there a Hell here? It’s a lot to process. I get quiet when I’m processing. So, yeah, I’m fine, and it’s freaking me the fuck out.” She became more and more animated right up until her mouth clapped shut. She sat down beside him with a thud. Her head came to rest on his shoulder. “And now I’m getting even more confirmation that I’m a terrible person because I snapped at you for asking me what was wrong.”

Cullen looked down at her. The pin straight part in her hair was all he could see. “You are not a terrible person,” he said. She looked up at him, her neck contorted in a way that must have been uncomfortable. “You’ve given your good nature away simply by asking these questions of yourself.”

“I tried telling myself that. I can’t convince myself to believe me.”

“Can you convince yourself to believe me, then?” He ran his hand from her alabaster part to her alabaster chin. He let his fingers splay over her crooked neck. “I have known every type of person. Some days, I’m certain I have been every type of person. An unscrupulous killer, while she might not concern herself with the fact that she had taken a life, would also not concern herself with the morality of her actions. She would not have to find a way to justify it to herself because she would not give the virtue of her reasons a moment’s thought. The killing would be right to her simply because she had done it.”

“Well, that’s a whole lot of circular reasoning.”

Cullen twisted at his waist, holding Belle’s face in his hands. “Precisely. And you are not a woman who indulges in circular reasoning.” He knew she hated circular reasoning. She’d once ranted about it for fifteen minutes after a meeting with a very self-indulgent Bann.

Belle puffed out a laugh. “Uh uh.”

“We can then surmise—” He kissed her left cheek. “—that because you ask yourself these questions, and do not engage in circular reasoning—” He kissed her right cheek. Her nose scrunched up when she giggled. “—you are not an unscrupulous killer, correct?”

She beamed at him, and the heart she made beat for her warmed in his chest. “Have I ever told you that you’d have made a great attorney?”

“I don’t believe you have.”

“Well, you would’ve. Except the kissing. Can’t go all kissing on your clients and your jurors and shit. That’s fraternization. It’s frowned upon.” Belle’s moon face always looked so small in his hands.

“I suppose I should be happy that you’re not one of my clients or jurors, then?” Cullen kissed her smiling lips. A brief thing, like a punctuation mark.

“I suppose you should.” She dropped her forehead against his chest. “I concede. I’m not an unscrupulous killer. That’s not going to stop me from dwelling on it for another tiny eternity, mind you. But I’m really tired, my spine has turned to gel-oh, and my ribs feel like they’re going to cave in.”

Cullen focused his hearing outside their tent. Several soldiers chuckled and whispered around the nearby fire. Night birds and insects chirped far from the circle of tents and carts. Sera was not murdering Samson inasmuch as she was talking mindlessly at him. Knowing her, she was simply trying to yammer him into submission. Talk him to death.

Gently, Cullen laid Belle down on their cot, taking his place beside her in the manner he determined least likely to jostle her tired body. Her back was flush to his chest, her head resting on her pillow and his bicep. From where he lay, he could just make out her eyes. He watched them blink and roll lazily in every direction before they closed. Her breathing was deep and even the moment her lashes grazed her cheek.

Cullen’s eyes remained open for a time. His mind remained active. His ears remained vigilant. He could not name the moment he fell asleep, though he would later recall drifting off to the sound of Sera mulling over the intricacies of raisin use in cookies.

*****

Cullen may have given the appearance that he was working when the guards brought Samson into his office. He had certainly been attempting to work. Knowing that he was expected to extract information from his former cohort—the man with whom he had once shared a room—made the words on the reports before him impossible to decipher. It was one thing to ask Cullen to capture and transport Samson. It was something else entirely to ask him to rekindle an obliterated relationship under the misbegotten pretense of mutual civility and humanity. Samson had been correct during Max’s judgement. Cullen did not believe there was anything worthy left in the man.

The former Templar and former Red Templar both had their heads down when the door opened. They looked up simultaneously, each catching flashes of contempt in the other’s eyes. This would be no easy task. Samson was unchained, though he was flanked by two rather large Inquisition soldiers. He squared his shoulders before walking through the door. The soldiers saluted and closed it behind him.

“Cullen.”

“Raleigh.” Cullen stood at the curt greeting. The first way he could think to remind Samson of his humanity was to remind him of his given name. He told Max that he was willing to give the Inquisition his knowledge, but from one look at him in this moment, Cullen doubted whether that would happen. “Are your quarters sufficient?”

Samson took another step forward as Cullen rounded his desk. “Better than a jail cell. Not by much.” He shrugged toward the door.

“Surely you can understand why we need to keep you under guard until—”

“Until you’ve got everything you can get out of me.”

“Until we can trust you,” said Cullen. “Once I can report back to the Inquisitor that you and I have built a good rapport, we will decrease the guard.”

“And how do you suppose that’s going to happen, Commander?” Samson stepped forward again. He had learned long ago that proximity an intimidation were among the best weapons at a Templar’s disposal, as had Cullen. Again, Cullen could smell the formidable reek of decay. “We never built much of one, even before I was cast out of the Order.”

Cullen stood firm, unyielding even as Samson loomed before him. The bedraggled man was two or three inches shorter than Cullen, but he continued to wield menace like a blade. He would have been ominous to someone who did not know him so well as Cullen once had. Samson’s prolonged proximity did, however, set Cullen’s head and gut to spinning. It was all he could do not to back away to evade the wailing emanating from Samson’s blood.

The sound of a door opening might have startled them had they not been fighting a silent battle of stony stares. “Hey, Cullen, how many sol—Oh.” On the boundaries of Cullen’s vision, he saw a mass of red hair and ivory skin that could only have been Belle. “I didn’t realize you were…doing this right now. I’ll come back in a bit.”

Samson broke his gaze, turning to look at Belle. “My lady.” There was a slowness to the way he said it. A thickness. A sludge. He pivoted to aim an exaggerated bow at her. “The Commander and I were just getting started.”

Cullen’s eyes flicked to Belle, who stood expressionless just inside the doorframe. The natural downturn of her mouth gave her a sternness that perpetually walked the line between anger and annoyance. She glanced at Cullen before fixing her glare on Samson.

Samson took her silence as invitation to continue. “I was just about to ask the Commander what he already knows about Red Templars. Perhaps I should ask you, my lady. What do you know about Red Templars?”

“Enough.”

“Is that so? I wonder, what constitutes ‘enough?’ For instance, did you know that ordinary lyrium is essentially a poison that Templars build a tolerance to?”

“As so many narcotics are.” Cullen could hear Belle let out a slow sigh through her nose. “I also know that red lyrium is worse, before you feel the urge to ask me about that, too.”

“And did you know that red lyrium attacks the blue stuff? Tries to destroy it in order to replace it?” Belle remained silent. “You didn’t know that, eh? It’s like a sickness destroying another sickness. It burns up the lyrium in your blood. Boils it till it’s gone.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Oh, it’s excruciating. If a Templar gets it on his skin before he has his first philter, it’ll try and burn right through to get at the blue stuff. Would you like a demonstration?”

In an instant, Samson reeled back and spat in Cullen’s face. In an instant, the bridge of Cullen’s nose and the top of his cheek were set aflame. In an instant, Cullen cried out his agony. He moved quickly, using his sleeve to wipe the tainted blood and saliva from his skin.

“Hey!” was bellowed from where Belle stood. Where she no longer stood. She appeared through Cullen’s blurred vision as fire and ice carried toward him on the wind. But she was not coming for him. She grunted as she swung her crooked arm at Samson’s face. The bony blade of her lightly clothed elbow connected with his nose, and it was his turn to cry out in pain as fresh blood poured from within and without. She rocked back, fist poised to strike the bleeding man again.

Cullen snatched her up before she could swing. His arm wrapped around her waist, and he tugged her back. Her feet lifted off the floor. Her whole body lurched and flailed. He worried for a moment that she might escape his grasp.

“I’m gonna fuck you the fuck up! Piece of fucking shit!” Belle’s leg swung out, narrowly missing Samson’s head. She spat at him while Cullen hauled her out of the open door. “Fuck you! Motherfucker!” The adjacent door opened to reveal the two guards just before Cullen shut himself out.

Belle groaned and hollered and thrashed until they reached her doorway. She began to fidget and ramble through her adrenaline surge the moment he set her down. “Fucking asshole. Are you okay? Holy shit. I actually connected. I didn’t think I would. I only ever went to that one Krav Maga class. But I watched a shitload of Muay Thai and Em-Em-Ay. Maybe that’s why. Are you okay?” She was all but vibrating.

Cullen’s anger bubbled deep in his chest. He held her arms to still her. “Why would you do something so reckless?”

“Reckless? I’m fine. It’s okay, he wasn’t going to hurt me.”

“You might have destroyed any chance I have at getting information about Corypheus’s plans. Why would you let him provoke you like that? Why would you hit him?”

“What? I might what?” Belle’s brow furrowed in confusion and in fury. “He attacked you! He hurt you! So I hurt him back! He knows the fucking score.”

The anger bubbling in Cullen’s chest rolled up and growled through his throat. “He was testing me! He was testing you! He is testing everything!” His voice left his lips loud and harsh. Her eyes that were like armor and like the sea went wide. “He wants his last chance to die fighting. The red lyrium is killing him. He wants to die before it can. I will not have you or anyone else giving him the idea that he is entitled to that kind of relief!”

Belle looked as though she wanted to hit him or scream at him or cry. She shrugged his hands from her arms. She turned and walked through her door, closing it behind her. He heard the door to the other side of the battlements open and close, and saw her march off toward the kitchen. Her head was down and her hands were clenched tight into furious fists.

With yet another reason to despise Samson tucked away his mind, Cullen re-entered his tower. Samson sat in a chair that had been dragged from beside the wall into the center of the room. Two large hands belonging to two large men rested on either of his shoulders. Cullen dismissed them, reassuring one of them that he would be fine and reminding the soldier not to question orders.

“She’s a spitfire, your Belle.” Samson chuckled that dark chuckle. His tongue darted out to stop the blood running out of his nostrils and over his lips and down his chin. He winced when he sniffed, and he chuckled again. A serrated cut over the bridge of his nose gushed more blood. Even the man’s blood looked viscous and heavy—too thick for human veins.

“An interesting choice of words.” Cullen perched himself on the edge of his desk. His hand found the pommel of his sword, and he was grounded by the cool metal and rough cord there. Has skin felt raw, but there was no need for a healer. The red lyrium in Samson’s blood had not been as concentrated as that of the Red Templar Cullen slew at the Shrine of Dumat.

“I can’t help but notice I’m still alive. Even after attacking the Commander of the Inquisition in his own quarters. Your lot must be desperate.”

“Not as desperate as you, apparently. Do you want to die so badly that you’re willing to throw away any chance at redemption?”

Samson scoffed. “There is no redemption for me. There’s only madness or the end of a blade. Both, if your Maker sees fit to cast me out in the most fitting way. The longer I wait to die, the more the red lyrium kills me. As I said on my knees before your Inquisitor, Corypheus could only delay my corruption.”

“And as I said, you were part of something larger than yourself once. Why did you become a Templar?”

“Same as you. I wanted to help people. Just not the same people as the Chantry wanted me to help.”

“Do you think you’re helping anyone right now? The bulk of your Red Templars have been wiped out. The Templars left alive and untainted by red lyrium have nevertheless been tainted by your actions and by your leadership under Corypheus. Do you honestly believe that the mages would benefit in any way from his success?”

“I don’t believe anyone can benefit from anything happening in Thedas right now. The Chantry’s in chaos, looking for anyone they can blame for all of it. Templars have become just as hated and distrusted as mages. No one can seem to stop killing each other. At least Corypheus was able to unite Thedas, even if it meant uniting against him.”

“If he wins, everyone will be subjugated. As I recall, that was one of your—how did you put it—your ‘philosophical differences’ with the Order and the Chantry. If you help us defeat him, the Inquisition will have sway with the Chantry. We could have a say in the selection of the next Divine. The world can change, if you help us keep it alive. Men can find redemption. Perhaps even some of your own men.”

Samson went silent for what seemed like a lifetime. His head hung looser on his neck, much of his will to fight having fled his body. He was exhausted. Cullen understood that kind of exhaustion. It was the kind that left a man feeling less than a man after fighting for too long for a cause he knew she should not have supported. Cullen felt it in Kirkwall. Each night, he sat at the edge of his bed with his head hanging loose on his neck, his body protesting every move he’d made throughout the day, his mind praying for the clarity and the strength to understand and to do what was right. The weight of a thousand lives crushed him, as it crushed Samson now.

“Alright.” All the viscosity and sliminess had left Samson’s voice. All that remained was the same voice that had once asked Cullen about what it was like in Honnleath before the Blight. It was the same voice that had comforted mages and Templars on their worst days, and it was the same voice that decried the Order’s treatment of its charges. “What do you want to know?”

It was deep into the night when Cullen called the soldiers in to escort Samson back to his quarters. The former Templars made arrangements amongst themselves for the timing of their next meeting. Cullen made no promises of a merciful death to Samson, and Samson made no promises to remain alive until the madness ripped his mind from his will.

It was too late to approach Belle that night, and Cullen was still vexed at her rashness. He wished he had not shouted at her and he wished he had shouted louder. He had been unable to compose himself enough to find the words to make her understand. He resolved to find those words before he slept as he ascended the godforsaken ladder into his loft. He could no longer think of the word “ladder” without his mind adding “godforsaken” in Belle’s voice.

His ire faded as he lay over the blankets on his still tidy bed. It faded into gentle sorrow at his inability to hold her close and murmur his explanations and apologies into her hair. He would speak with her the next day, though it may very well have been the next day by the time his eyes drifted shut. The Fade was cruel and unmerciful when it finally took him, and in his nightmares his own cruelty was reflected on the backs of his eyelids.

The blood of the wicked would always flow through his veins, refusing to be forgotten, refusing to release him, refusing to allow him to be a better man.

*****

#cullen #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen x belle #belle dolan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fanfic #mgit #modern girl in thedas #self indulgence au #htwwain

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naturepointstheway · 7 years ago

Text

“Eclipsed Days in the Sun” (Beauty and the Beast (2017) oneshot)

Days had passed since the passing of the prince’s poor mother to the illness that claimed her--consumption, the doctors diagnosed. But no one had to be a doctor to recognise the red spots of coughed up blood on a handkerchief hailing the arrival of Death at her doorstep. Less than forty-eight hours later, she had passed away in her sleep. The prince had refused to leave her bedside, not until his father had grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him out of the room. He had not even been allowed even a final farewell during the funerary wake, his father “explaining” that the boy had spent long enough at her bedside post-mortem to say a proper goodbye to her. When the boy looked about to cry--Lumiere had been there at the time to see it--his father struck him across the face, sternly telling him that a man never should show such weakness. When Lumiere had interrupted to defend the boy prince, the father simply glowered at him.

“Quiet, old fool, you dare question how I raise the prince?”

Lumiere--who really wasn’t that old at all, merely in his twenties--squared his shoulders. “I offer advice that is all.”

“Then consider your “advice” dismissed. The prince is mine to raise alone, not yours or anyone else’s. He is a man, not a boy, and I alone will raise him.“

He is all but seven years old! Lumiere had protested in his head, but did not dare say aloud, lest he risk his career at the castle. He certainly wasn’t about to risk never seeing Plumette again.

He could only hope that somehow the boy would cling on to the good his mother had instilled in his heart, and he would still feel safe enough to come to the servants he had always trusted including himself, Mrs Potts, Chapeau, and of course, his cherished Plumette.

Nearly a year had passed since the death of the prince’s mother, and already Lumiere could see the changes in how the boy approached others, including himself. He was alarmed when he had overheard Mrs Potts murmuring to the other kitchen staff, her young forehead wrinkled with consternation, about how the boy never smiled or said “thank you” for a cup of tea anymore. As a matter of fact, sometimes she’d find the tea undisturbed, left to grow cold for hours before someone else cleared it away. The chief added in how the boy now demanded this or that and became increasingly inclined to complain about any little nitpick in the meal. Even Chapeau chimed in to say how the boy would just toss his cloak or whatever else at him and tell him to clean it up or put it away for him.

A shiver had gone up his spine--not one year had elapsed since his mother’s death, and now he already was changing for the worse under his father’s thumb.

There’s still hope, he convinced himself, Maybe he’ll come around soon enough.

It was an exceedingly rare time when his hopes could be trampled upon, but one particular evening happened to be one of those times. He had been talking with Plumette in the servant quarters when the young prince walked in, an uncharacteristically sombre look in his eyes as he went up to Lumiere, carrying something in his hands.

“Hello, Prince Adam,” Lumiere greeted him with his characteristic grin, “Come to join the conversation?”

He didn’t smile back, not even a twitch of his lips, simply holding out the three juggling balls Lumiere had gifted to him when the boy had turned four.

“Oh, you want me to juggle for you?” Lumiere put down his glass of wine and held out his hands, palms up.

But the boy dumped the blue, red, green, and yellow trio of juggling balls in the man’s hands.

“I don’t want to juggle anymore. It is for children.”

Lumiere, struck dumb for a second, quickly recovered himself and as lightly as possible, “It’s for everyone--look at me, a grown man and I still love juggling!”

“I do not care to juggle anymore.”

And with that, the boy spun on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Lumiere to stare at the juggling balls, heart sinking in devastation. Only Plumette’s hand curling around his wrist, and her head leaning on his shoulder, eased at least an edge off his numb shock.

He’s gone now.

His hands convulsed, fingers clenching around the juggling balls in sudden anger.

“I hate his father,” he hissed between clenched teeth, “And we can do nothing.”

One of Plumette’s hands came up to rest against his cheek, providing some consolation.

“I know,” she whispered, “All we can do is pray, my love.”

“For his sake, I hope you’re right.”

Now, in the present day, nearly eight months since the curse was lifted, Lumiere found himself perched on the edge of his bed, an opened dusty trunk at his feet. He had been dragging out trunks everything--literally everything--he had kept over a lifetime of serving at the castle. Every year, without fail, Plumette would try to persuade him that he surely didn’t need all that stuff anymore, but Lumiere always kept everything “just in case”. He couldn’t remember a day he’d ever thrown anything away. Now “just in case” had arrived, Plumette with child. An hour ago, she had thrown on a cloak, informing Lumiere she was going on a walk with Belle to talk about something “important”, strongly hinting at it with a hand on her round belly.

Now here he was, staring at those three juggling balls again. They had been tucked in a corner of this trunk--one of the very last five to rummage through--and a split-second later, memories had come flooding back, of teaching the young boy juggling basics, how he had made a show out of a standing ovation the first time the young prince got something right, and the day he’d had them returned to him out of the blue.

Does he even remember anything about it now? he wondered.

A firm knock at the door jolted him out of his musings, standing up too quickly to stop himself tripping over the open trunk, sprawling over it, juggling balls going three separate ways. Standing up, he brushed himself off and strode to the door--a quick glance at a clock told him it was past eleven at night. Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see the prince on the other side, two wine glasses in one hand and a wine bottle in the other.

“Oh, you’re still up?” Adam commented, “I was hoping to celebrate with you about Belle.”

I knew it!

“I know, Adam, congratulations!”

The prince’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “How...how did you know?”

A casual, off-hand shrug. “Plumette went off to have a “very important chat” with Belle. You might say I put two and two together.”

Adam looked over Lumiere’s shoulder, “Been sorting through your eight million trunks I see.”

Reminded again of what he had just found in the trunk, he looked away from the prince so he might not see any hint of sadness in his expression.

“Not quite eight million, my prince, but getting there.”

Prince Adam strode to a table next to a window overlooking the garden outside, wine glasses clinking as he set them down along with the full bottle of rich red wine.

“Care to come sit down?”

“After I tidy up,” Lumiere said quickly, now moving to dump everything into the trunk.

Behind him, Adam laughed. “Or dump everything in the suitcase.”

“I don’t have time to waste folding and tucking everything in neatly thank you.”

“Mrs Potts--”

“Would be appalled, yes, I know.”

He knew Mrs Potts had long ago given up on chastising him about his wrinkled clothes when ironing them. Bless her, she’d tried at first, but soon realised it was futile to try and “fix” his less than tidy treatment of putting away his clothes. Not even Plumette could persuade him.

“Are those juggling balls down there on the floor?”

Lumiere glanced over at them, “I suppose they are,” he said, voice as off-casual as possible. “Nothing...special.”

"Oh I don’t know, Lumiere, it sounds like they’re special to you.”

He took his time picking them up, two in one hand and one in the other. Idly tossing one up and down, he turned to face the prince again.

“They were special once.” he concurred.

The prince grinned, raising his glass, “Show us a trick or two, Lumiere.”

“To be fair, I probably forgot everything after spending over a decade as a candelabra.”

Adam still didn’t give up hope. “Maybe you remember something.”

“I’ll give it a go then.”

Lumiere threw one ball up in the air, quickly transferring a second to his empty palm, before throwing up the third in the air. He managed this for all of three seconds before he somehow ended up tossing one of them onto the table, right into Adam’s drink. He couldn’t help a small flinch, left over from the days of when the prince was a volatile Beast, almost as if he still expected him to snap at him.

To his relief, the prince threw his head back with a laugh. “Now there’s a trick I want to see again.” With a flick of his wrist, he brought the glass up to his lips, sipping it with an exaggerated look of thoughtfulness. “Hmm...interesting new taste to the wine. Dusty with an edge of childhood memories. Not sure the rest of France will take to the unique flavour though. It would be an acquired taste.” Putting it down again on the table, the prince fished out the ball, a new look of surprise on his face, “Huh, there’s some writing here.”

Lumiere’s initial laugh gave way to silence. “Writing?”

“For the young prince,” he read aloud, “Interesting. You already guessing at the sex of Belle and I’s baby?”

Lumiere sat down across from the prince, setting down the other two balls, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“Actually, that had been for another prince.”

“Another prince?”

“A prince that once loved to watch me juggle, and was beyond ecstatic when I gifted him with these juggling balls for his fourth birthday. See? Four colours, one for each year. If you’re four, that is.”

“If they’re a gift, then why do you have them?”

“The prince didn’t want them anymore. Probably his father said juggling was for children. Imagine,” he took a long sip from his glass, “An eight year old child, who lost his mother barely a year ago, suddenly saying such play was only for children. His father...was a cruel man.”

Adam snapped his head up to stare at Lumiere, his expression stricken.

“Lumiere, are you saying that these once were mine?”

“A gift.”

“And I gave them back to you?”

“Yes.”

The prince slammed a fist on the table, making their wine glasses jump. “My father’s doing, no doubt.”

“Of course.”

Adam reached to grab the other two juggling balls, holding them in his other hand. He looked back up at Lumiere.

“Lumiere, if you don’t mind me....”

“Have them. They were a gift in the first place.”

“I’ve probably forgotten everything,” the prince shook his head in dismay, “How can I show my future baby how to juggle?”

Lumiere leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “First, you only have to ask me, and yes, of course I’ll show you some tricks again. Now show me what you can do.”

But the prince hesitated, seeming unsure of the first thing to do.

“I mean beyond just staring at them. Try throwing one up in the air.”

The tension in the air seemed to disappear at once with the prince’s laugh, joined soon enough by Lumiere.

“Alright, alright, I get it, Lumiere.”

With that, he tossed one up in the air, and in trying to catch it again, nearly knocked over the wine bottle. Mercifully, Lumiere’s quick reflexes saved the table cloth from a fresh new red dye.

“Good start, Adam, but try not to knock over the wine bottles.”

“Says the man who managed to juggle one right into my glass. I admit, it offered a new possible beverage item to add to the wine list during the next festival.”

“Well, I think the baby can afford to wait a few more years before showing him that particular wine trick.”

The prince grinned, setting down the juggling balls again on the table, picking up his glass of wine as if to initiate a toast.

“But first, let’s toast to Plumette and to Belle.”

Lumiere picked up his glass, raising it in the prince’s directioin. “To Plumette and Belle.”

Clink!

#Beauty and the Beast #batb2017 #2017 fanfiction

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