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mindofharry · 4 years ago

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here’s some vampire harry!!!!! pls treat him with the love and respect he deserves <3

“Honey, this is just water under the bridge” Your mother, Joanne, reassured you. She placed a rogue piece of hair behind your ear. You were both sitting on your bed, cuddling like you were 10 years old again. Getting fired, from your dream job for no apparent reason at all has basically broken you. Your mother is trying to reassure you, that it was meant to happen - that everything happens for a reason. You just want your job back.

“We’ll start job hunting again, next week. Ok?” Joanne said, you sighed and rolled over on your sighed. Your mum rubbed your back and took all the dirty cups from your room with her as she left your room.

You tried to sleep, to try and forget everything that had just happened that afternoon. But, your mind was occupied and too busy. So you decided you better start looking for some jobs, even interviews. Even though you still live with your mum, you still need money. Not just for yourself, but your mum too. All the money that comes into the house is coming from you and the jobs you have. You were finally comfortable with money, for the first in your life. But the world just really hated you at the moment.

You walk over your desk and sit down, opening up the second hand laptop you bought yourself for christmas. It’s nothing special like a mac, but it does the job. Once you’re logged in, you open google and type in ‘JOBS IN MY AREA’. You didn’t go to college and you barley passed high school, you’ll be lucky if you even get a job at the local book store.

You needed to stop this, punishing yourself. It’s not your fault, you remind yourself.

Nearly falling asleep at your desk, you decided to head to bed. Tomorrow will be better.

Tomorrow is not better. It’s worse than yesterday. You couldn’t even bare to open your laptop after being so disappointed last night. And you’re mum kept trying to reassure you, but you felt responsible for this.

Your mum couldn’t work, she’s not well and she’s in denial about it. She goes to AA meetings and talks with therapists, but she just can’t stay sober. You’ve tried to get her into working, but she manages to fuck it up everytime. Your mum is good mother, she took care of you and did the best she could. But sometimes you just wished she’d just stay sober, for even a week. So you could be a normal 19 year old, go out for drinks and hang out with friends. But you know she’s not a normal mum. And that’s something you just have to live with.

“Morning, love” Joanne said sipping on her ‘tea’. You knew it was alcohol so you gave her a pointed look.

She sighed and poured the drink down the sink. “Good, now go brush your teeth and we can talk” you say pulling your hair up. You mother shook her head and sighed. “I’m the mum here, Y/N. Don’t treat me like i’m the teenager” she said and you laughed. Really? This is how today’s going to go? the universe really hates me, you thought.

“You just hid vodka from me mum” you say and she sighed walking over and kissing your temple. “I’m sorry, ok? I’m trying, lovey” she said and you could tell how hard she was trying to keep together. you nodded and smiled, this was going to be a good day. Bite your tongue, Y/N.

“Yeah, i know. Now go get ready, i need help job hunting” you say and she nodded making her way out of the kitchen and up to her room. You sighed and put the kettle on. You walked into the pantry and took the vodka she had opened and poured it down the sink. Let’s see how long it takes her to notice.

You sat down with your cup of tea and one for your mum, opening up the paper and your laptop.

When your mum came back in, she looked a lot nicer and healthier. The shower did her good.

“So i saw someone looking for an assistant on facebook” Your mum said logging into her facebook on your laptop. You smiled to yourself, she really cared about you. “His name is harry i think, something along the lines of needing someone to sort out his schedule which you’re pretty good at” she said showing you the post. A few, actually a lot, of people had already liked the post and there was people sharing their CVs in the comments begging for a chance. You didn’t have the heart to tell your mum that this person wasn’t going to accept you.

“I mean, you can apply for other jobs but i think it’s perfect for you” She said biting her nip nervously. You nodded smiling in reassurance. “Yeah, it’s perfect mum. Thank you, i’ll try and get an interview. I also found a cleaning job too, so that’s good. Both jobs look like they pay well” you say with a shrug.

Joanne nodded and kissed your temple. “You’ll get a job. Don’t worry about it.”

After sending your CV to multiple possible bosses, you shut your laptop and turn your phone off of silent. Job hunting is a pain in the ass and exhausting, all you can do now is make lunch and hope for the best.

You were braiding your mothers hair when you got the call. You were both having a girly night as your mum hadn’t drank a sip of alcohol all day, it was definitely something to celebrate.

“Is this Y/N L/N i’m speaking with?” the voice asked, he sounded so bright and chipper. And he was irish too.

“This is her! how can i help you?” you asked and the man cleared his throat and paused for a second. “I’m offering you a job. the job” he said and you almost dropped your phone. You put it on your leg, on speaker so your mum could hear and you could multitask. You brushed the ends of your mum hair and let out a shaky breath.

“Do i need to come in for an interview?”

“Well, me and the boss would like to get to know you, get a feel of how you work on your own and with help. just like a test run, but if i’m being honest the is yours” he said and you could almost cry. “You’re exactly the kind of person Harry, my boss is looking for Y/N” he said.

“I’m niall by the way, i’m harry’s personal assistant” Niall said and you smiled.

“Well, when can i come in?”

After settling some stuff with Niall, who is kind of your boss too you were free to hang up. your mum squealed and pulled you into the tightest hug ever. “I told you, everything happens for a reason! you were exactly who they were looking for, babe” your mother said caressing your cheeks. You kissed her temple and nodded.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You said and your mum shrugged. “Eh, i’m okay” she giggled, you sat back down on the couch.

“Lay down, mum. We’ve got it sorted now”

You were going in to the offices, or as what niall called STYLES x MALIK, harry styles and zayn malik are both the bosses of the fashion company they both created. They have a headquarters in the states, but they’re just starting up a new headquarters in england, as harry and zayn grew up here and would like to see their families a lot more. Niall basically told you their whole life story over the phone, which you were very thankful for. Saves you the googling.

It was a tuesday morning, when you got the go ahead to pop in. Niall said to look nice, but casual. Like you’re going out for a dinner with your partners family. So you pull out your best high waisted flare jeans, an orange stripped shirt and tucked into your jeans. You topped it off with your lucky platforms and some jewellery. You left your hair natural, and the same with your makeup only some lip gloss and mascara.

“You look beautiful, honey”

“Thanks mum” You grinned pulling her into a hug. You placed your bag over your shoulder and took the car keys from the bowl at the front door. “I’ll be back soon, ok? Go for a walk or something” you say squeezing her hand, before leaving.

20 minutes away from you, is a angry, grumpy vampire. Niall was sat in front of harry, with a grin on his face.

“She’s literally perfect harry” Niall try to reason, but harry was having absolutely none of it. He wanted to rip that blonde son of bitch heart out.

“Niall, i didn’t want her though.” Harry said standing up from his desk, opening up a file and pointing at a picture.

“i wanted her”

Harry was pointing at a girl, blonde hair, blue eyes and great blood. He had tasted her before and worked his magic into getting her an interview - of course, she doesn’t remember him though. But this Y/N girl, he didn’t want her and he never agreed to having her come here today.

“You’ll have to fire her or make up some excuse, fuck i need something” Harry mumbled placing a hand over his eyes, Niall walked over to the fridge in the corner of harrys office he opened it up and took out a bag of blood pouring it in to a small glass. He placed it on the table standing in front of a frustrated vampire.

“She’s really good, Harry. You’ll regret it if you don’t let her do the test run” Niall said before walking to the door. “And she’s hot as fuck” he added leaving the room.

Harry hated being the bad guy, usually he’s a nice person. More lively, a bit like niall. A lot more quiet though, he’s pensive and reads people really well, one of his many talents as a vampire.

Harry was born in 1908, to a wealthy family. He had caring parents, a loving sister and good future a head of him. Until he met liam payne, they met in university decided to work together. The next thing you know, liam had his fangs in harrys neck and he was immortal. The first few years were hard, he was wreck less and did everything possible to get even a drop of blood. He met zayn five years after being turned, and he was sort of like the alpha of their ‘pack’ so to speak. He taught harry all he knew about control and using powers to get what you want, but only when you so desperately need it. They met niall in the 70s, he was freshly turned and needed help. They took him under their wings, and here they are today with a fashion company and a load of money in their pockets.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Zayn asked walking into harrys office with a few files in his hands. Harry huffed and sipped on the blood niall had poured for him. “I’m closed” harry said sitting down on his chair, zayn laughed and shook his head. “You have an interview in 5 minutes, get it together styles” Zayn said and dropped the files on his desk.

“Whether we hire or not, be nice. Her file is there, read it, study it. And keep those fangs to yourself” Zayn warned pointing at harry, then walked out of his office. Harry sighed and opened the file, stopping in his tracks when he saw your face.

You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful.

He could tell the photo was professionally done, and you definitely had gotten someone to take it in a rush. Your CV is also a mess, but harry thinks it’s endearing. God, you’ve hypnotised him already. Harry could feel your aura through a picture, how the fuck was that even possible?

“She’s here” Niall said through the glass door. Harry nodded and cracked his neck, let’s get this over with then.

He could see niall biting his lip as she walked up, he couldn’t keep it in his pants for 2 seconds.

Niall opened the door and harry watched the girl walk in, her flares and platforms got his attention. She’s perfect. For him. Niall was still checking her out, so harry cleared his throat. Niall smirked and shook his head walking out of the office.

“Take a seat” Harry said and you smiled, sitting down. “I just want to say, i’m really grateful for this opportunity” you say, and harry nearly rolled his eyes. She’s too beautiful for a sob story. “I appreciate it” you say, and harry nodded quickly wanting to move away from anything emotional.

“um, so we don’t need you” He lied and you nearly choked on you own spit. Your eyebrows furrowed and you flushed a bit. Harry could see niall shaking his head. Damn you, super human hearing.

“Don’t need me? Niall said that i was just what you were looking for” you say, not angry just confused. Harry was impressed at how well you could keep your feelings in check, but he could feel how agitated you were becoming.

“Well, he’s wrong” Harry said and closed the file. “Have a nice day” He said with a fake smile. You couldn’t believe this. Fuck this.

“Fuck you” You said grabbing your bag and hoisting it up onto your shoulder. “Woah, Woah, what’s going on in here?” Zayn asked his hands in the air.

“Ask him, thanks for nothing” You say moving to walk out of the office. You needed to get out of here. “Just wait” Zayn called out, you stopped and sighed turning around.

“You’ve got the job” zayn said and your eyes widened in shock. “You start this friday, niall will email you detail. Use this week to treat yourself, on me ok?” Zayn said handing you a 50 dollar note. Who are you to deny money? You nodded and smiled at him. “Thank you” you say and he nodded.

“Don’t disappoint me”

You got yourself a coffee on the way home, you were a little overwhelmed and you needed to calm down before you went home to your mum. You just hope she didn’t do anything stupid while you were out.

“Mum, i’m home” you called out handing your bag up on the hanger. You got no response, so you looked around the house. Nothing in the kitchen or bathroom. The only places left are her room and living room.

You walked into the living room, to see your mum passed out on the couch a bottle of wine and an empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. you sighed “Oh, mum” you said tears welling up in your eyes. “Why do you keep doing this” you mumbled picking up the wine and empty bottle, you put them away and cleaned up the cup. After that, you placed a blanket over her.

“You’ll get better soon, mum. I’ll be able to pay for it. We’ll have everything we’ve ever dreamt of and more” You say, kissing her forehead.

The next couple of days, you were nursing your mother back to health and used the 50 dollars your new boss gave you to by some groceries. Your mother really needed some hangover snacks, and she needed a lot of them. Luckily, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than you should’ve.

“Mum, i’m off to work” You said peaking through her door. She wasn’t talking to you at the moment.

“Alright, there’s medicine on the counter downstairs, snacks and stuff too. There’s no alcohol and no money, so don’t even try” You warned closing her door. God, this was so hard. You wondered how long it would take to be fired from this job.

You arrived early at the office, niall greeted you and took you to your own little office. It was nothing huge, but you absolutely adored it.

“Hey, don’t worry about harry” Niall said and you nodded. “I’m not, don’t worry” you reassured him smiling as you put down your diary.

“Good, well i’ll leave you to it” Niall said and you grinned at him.

“Good luck”

“Why?”

“You’ll need it”

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lavenderdaisyhoney · 3 years ago

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Into The Walls

summary: an aot dystopian type au where y/n vows to seek revenge on the people who live in luxury in the walls

Pairing: f-body & pronouns Y/N x Levi (but that is further down the road and not the main focus)

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: death, blood, injury, abuse of power, curse words, dark content. Rated 16+.

A/N: I apologize in advance. Pls forgiveth me.

This is the way of the world. It hunts you from the day you’re born, like a lion hunts a gazelle, and fattens you up with hope for the future. Once it thinks you’re ready, it will chew you up in it’s wide infinite mouth until nothing but an empty shell is left. Once all hope is gone, it spits you out into a dark abyss of nothingness.

This is what you come to learn at the tender age of 19. One more year. Just one more year until your sentence is considered served. One. More. Year.

You swallow, with a heavy tongue, as you gaze upon the Elite Task Force uniform. A loose fitting matte black uniform made from the finest synthetic fibres. With a closer look, you can see many interweaving blue threads that seem to glow. These threads absorb impact and turn it into raw strength. In the upper top left corner lies the “M” insignia. Many would feel a certain pride while looking at that insignia but you felt nothing. With a sigh, you grab the uniform and put it on. Staring at yourself in the small cracked bedroom mirror, you see the light of hope raging bright and true in your eyes. The watch on your wrist indicates you have 20 minutes left until you will be punished for being late.

You quietly make your way down the stairs, making sure the rabbit you caught last night is on the table, wrapped in newspaper. You feed more wood to the wood burning stove. You always do this. Making sure the house is ready for your family to wake up. With ten minutes to spare, you leave your cabin, the rusted mirror hanging in the doorway holding your reflection until the door is completely shut.

You run down the mountain towards the line up of other citizens that are also serving sentences. The people within the wall don’t bother with punishing us as we are maggots beneath their garbage under their feet so they make us punish each other. The commanding officer, an older gentleman, is calling out names.

“L/N?” He calls your last name out without looking up from the tablet in his hands. Another officer standing next to him grabs your arm and scans the barcode tattooed on your arm. With your identity verified, you’re handed a number. You take that number to the weapons dispensary truck. No citizens are allowed to have any weapons of any kind unless they’re being used for hunting.

The officer in the truck grabs the number you hold out, and hands you a stun gun. “The number of stuns in this gun have been verified. If the number of stuns doesn’t match the number on your logs after your shift…well….you know what will be done. Understand?”

You wish you could tell the officer to wipe that sick grin off his face but you can’t risk anything that will extend your sentence. With a bite of your tongue, you nod and grab the gun out of his hands. With the gun safely holstered to your hip, you make your way back to the commanding officer.

“Listen up, vermin.” The commanding officer finally looks up and hands the tablet to the officer next to him and begins walking down the line. “There have been an increase in riots throughout the city. Your jobs today are to make sure no news of riots reach the walls. You see a group of rats, break them apart. You see anyone on the street without identification, arrest them. I don’t care if they are children or elderly. The rules have been the same for years now so there’s no excuse.” The commanding officer pauses in front of you. You have your helmet on but you make direct eye contact with him. “If any of you, for any reason, fail to appropriately punish the rats, you will take their punishment instead. Is that clear?”

With a chorus of “sir yes sirs”, you’re finally allowed to disband. Everyone is making their way to their respective trucks when you hear your name being called.

“L/N.” Your entire body pauses after hearing the commanding officer call out your name.

“Your helmet needs to be adjusted. You’re well aware of how anal higher ups tend to be about appearance.” He walks closer to you and clips the buckle on your helmet. Your eyes haven’t left his since he called out your name.

“A young woman like yourself would do well with a sponsor.” Sponsors are old lecherous men that take advantage of young at risk girls and harass them with the promise that they will take them to live inside the wall.

You take a look at the name engraved into his uniform. C.O Aiken Davis. You mentally take a note of his name and add it to the list of people you’ll eventually kill. Now though, you can’t do anything so you nod and march off into the truck that will take you into the city.

The city is about 45 minutes away from the mountain. During the drive, you see signs of poverty such as broken windows, rusted trucks, people dressed in rags begging for anything and everything. A little boy runs out in front of the truck, causing the driver to curse and hit the breaks. One of the men on your team, Vince Andrus, hops out of the back and grabs the kid. He tosses him into a pile of garbage, and with a quick removal of his belt, beats him. You turn your eyes away from the sight but you can’t stop your hands from making fists.

You barely have time to ignore the cries of the boy before Vince is back and the truck is continuing its course. “That’s how you teach them. My father did the same to me and look how well I turned out”

Everyone in the truck laughs but not you. You scoff. “Is that why you turned out to be so fucked up?” you ask.

“What was that?” Vince asks you as he shoots up to his feet. “You have anything to say, weasel, you can say it to my fucking face.”

You don’t say anything so Vince takes that as a sign of weakness. “Yeah that’s what I thought.” If only he knew what you had planned for him later on.

Finally, you make it into the city. It looks pretty much like a warzone. Tall buildings with broken glass. Cars flipped over. Fires here and there. Garbage litters every inch of the black asphalt. Grocery stores with missing letter signs. The truck makes a stop and the driver orders all of you to hop off.

“Y/N!” hearing your name brings you out of the daze you were in. “Go into that grocery store and survey it. Make sure no one is living inside.” The leading officer of your group orders.

You enter the store, stepping over the broken glass, with your stun gun aimed. Within a second, you already know you’re not alone. There’s signs of life such as a makeshift bed and half a can of corn that still looked good. You’re checking out the aisle where you found the bed when you hear something knocked off a shelf. You run to the sound, gun aimed, ready to shoot when you see a little girl, maybe about five or six, huddled on the ground. She’s dirty and her little dress is ripped to tatters. Her hair that looks blond is very matted and her teeth are chipped. She must’ve been living in this store for a while. Her pale skin is covered in buries from head to toe.

“Identify yourself!” you shout while your gun is still aimed at her.

No response.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me your name before I shoot.” You count the seconds in your head, praying that she answers.

“Li-Lilia.” She stutters in a quite voice, eyes filled with fear.

“Lilia, how many people are in this store with you?” Your gun is still aimed.

“Just me.”

How naïve. “I’m going to ask you one more time, Lilia.” You remove the safety on the gun with a click. “How many people are here with you?”

Lilia is now shivering. You hear a small sound and see that she has urinated herself out of fear. While you see the puddle grow larger, you notice her eyes keep darting to the aisle to your left. You finally get it. The bruises. The urine. She’s been kidnapped. You don’t say a word but you signal with your finger to the left.

Lilia nods as she silently cries.

You quickly check your surroundings, making sure you’re the only task member in the store as what you’re about to do will add to your sentence for sure. You signal with your finger to Lilia to keep quiet and you make your way over to the other side. At the end of the aisle, you see a man bent with his back to you, a gun in his hands.

How the hell did a street rat get a gun? With a closer look, you see it’s a task force gun. A growl rings out behind you. You barely have time to react when it jumps at you, teeth bared. A dog. You put your arm out and let it latch on, your uniform absorbing the force of it’s bite. The man you were sneaking up on is now aware of your presence.

He quickly makes his way over to you, gun aimed. “Good job, rocky. You’ve caught us some good task force bait.”

With your head titled, you ask “Who said I said I was caught?”

You rip your arm out of the dog’s jaws, grab the neck of the dog, and throw it on the man. The man shoots, hitting his dog. With the dog now seizing on the ground, you’re able to fully focus on the man. You toss your gun onto the floor, preferring close combat with this punk.

You run full force at the man, as he shoots. Each electrical stun, your uniform absorbs, making you run faster. You feel your blood rushing through your veins as the familiar feeling of excitement hits you. You use one leg to jump on a knocked over display, and you use the height to propel yourself, aiming a kick at the man. Your kick meets his thick head, knocking him out instantly. Wow, what a waste. You were looking forward to a fight.

With the man knocked out and the dog still seizing, it’s just you and the girl. You see her small head pop out the side of the shelf, staring at you in awe.

You pick up your gun, the fear returning to her eyes once again. “Lilia, do you know how this man got this gun?”

She nods and gestures for you to follow. You proceed with caution, gun up and aimed in case another surprise comes flying at you. Lilia leads you to the empty manager’s room. Once you deem the room safe enough, you enter. She heads to a small closet and gestures for you to open the door.

You stand behind the door and slowly open. As the door opens, an arm falls out putting you on high alert. You open the door wider and what’s inside has you gagging.

Inside the closet is a body that has been cut up into several pieces. What has you shocked isn’t the fact that there’s a dead body but that the dead body is wearing a task force uniform. That’s how the man got that gun.

You go closer to the body, in hopes of finding an identifier. In the upper corner is the name Rolf Chasey engraved. You rip off the tag and pocket it. You check the pockets of Rolf and find a half eaten protein bar and a couple of coins. You toss the coins to Lilia, who grabs them off the floor in a hurry.

“Lilia, I never saw you and you never saw me. Is that understood?”

She nods and walks off, leaving you alone in the office. You close the closet door and close the office. Your comms come on.

“Y/N, what is taking you so long?” The leading officer asks in an aggravated tone. Asshole.

You press the button to activate your microphone. “Had a bit of an altercation. Found a man living here, alongside his dog. Also found the remains of a task force soldier. He’s been here for a while.” You report back.

“That’s unfortunate. Bring out the vermin and kill the dog. Retrieve the gun off the dead soldier if you can”

“Yes, sir.” You follow his orders and pick up the gun, but before holstering your own, you shoot out one shot, so it appears you’ve killed the dog. You grab the arm of the unconscious man and proceed to drag him out the door. You notice the dog is gone, probably protecting Lilia.

You’re finally out of the store, two soldiers of the task force run to help you with the man. You head towards the leading officer and hand him the gun of the deceased soldier.

“Good job, L/N. You’re not so useless after all.” You wish you could just knock out this man as well but you have to tread on thin ice and pray that nobody goes into that store before you depart.

“It’s an honour to be useful, Sir.”

He waves dismissively and points to the truck. “At ease, soldier. Get into the truck. Those two idiots will load our precious cargo in it’s cage.”

With a nod, you follow orders like a robot. You learned a long time ago the only way to stay alive is to follow orders and keep your head down.

Once everybody is loaded into the truck, you hear Vince going on about how he was harassing some pregnant woman who tried to steal bread. “If she’s homeless, what business does she have getting pregnant? That’s why women should never be allowed to leave the house, or be part of an elite task force.” He says the last sentence with a glare directed towards you.

Vince. A sexist hot-headed thorn in your side since you were sentenced to the task force. “Vince, you seem to forget that we were ordered to be a part of this force as a punishment, not a reward. Which means that we all committed crimes of some sort. What was yours again? Ah. You got caught with your pants down in a barn.”

You can see Vince getting irritated, the vein bulging on his forehead. “Then again, you’re not really a human right? Makes sense that you wanted to be with the animals.”

Vince gets up and drags you by your collar. “Shut the fuck up, you worthless bitch.”

“I may be a worthless bitch but at least I’m not into animals.” At this point, your hands are on Vince’s applying pressure so he understands that you won’t be bullied by him.

“At ease, soldiers.” The truck has stopped and your leading officer is talking from the front seat. It’s a good thing he can’t see you otherwise both you and Vince would’ve been punished. “Since today was a successful day, I’ve decided to reward you. I’m going to head into this bakery to get us some bread.”

“Thank you, sir!” Everyone in the truck screams. The leading officer leaves the truck, his door slam vibrating the entire vehicle.

“I would let me go within the next five seconds unless you want my foot up your ass.” You warn Vince, tired of his macho man routine.

Vince drags you closer to his face “You’re lucky. Just know, the next time I get my hands on you, I won’t stop until you’re dead.” With that, Vince shoves you away roughly.

You adjust your uniform and sit back down. It’s getting harder to resist killing everyone on this team but you have to hold yourself back. You can’t let anyone find out that you were trained by your mercenary father to be even more deadly than he is. That means only meeting the bare minimum. Hiding your fighting skills, getting treated like an idiot, and being punished.

The officer returns with a bag of bread he has harassed out of the bakery owners, tossing a medium sized loaf at each of you. “Eat it now or later, I don’t care. Don’t you dare get any crumbs in my truck otherwise I’ll make you all scrub it with a toothbrush.”

In silence, the truck finally makes its way back to the mountainside as the sun is setting, kissing the sky.

“I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning, soldiers.”

You all salute and head your separate ways.

You’re finally back home. Standing in front of the door with chipped paint, you take a deep breath and make your way inside. The heart warming smell of rabbit stew greets you as you take off your boots.

“Y/N, you’re back!” Your little brother excitedly jumps into your arms. You grab onto him and swing him on your back, piggy backing him into the kitchen. Your mom stands at the stove, stirring the stew.

“Good evening mom.” You kiss your mother on the cheek. She gives you a nod of acknowledgement and continues stirring the stew. You take the bread out of your bag and place it on the table. Your brother is still on your back, giggling, so you put him down and tell him to play in your room. You go through the narrow passageway that connects to the living room and spot your father in his wheelchair by the window.

“Father, I’m back.” Your relationship with your father is very limited. You’re not affectionate with one another nor do you spend much time together.

“Good. How was your shift today?” He asks while still staring out the window.

You sit on the broken couch and hold your head in your hands. “I found a dead body today. It belonged to a task force soldier. His body was cut up. Barely recognizable.”

Your father finally looks at you. “Did you find anything on the body?”

You grab the name tag from your pocket and hand it to him. “Just this. Does the name sound familiar to you?”

Your father observes the name, no sign of recognition on his face. He clutches the name tag and moves his wheelchair to the door. “Follow me, Y/N.”

You follow him as he rolls down the narrow hallway to the bathroom door. He pauses at the bathroom door and turns the light switch on. You both barely fit into the bathroom when your father maneuvers his chair and locks the door.

“Lead us down, Y/N.” You head to the toilet, lift up the tank cover and let the eye scanner scan your eyes.

“Retina scan complete. Identity approved. Opening wall.” A computerized voice says.

Within a couple of seconds, the bathroom wall disappears and opens up into a computer room. Your father wheels himself in and starts typing on the computer, searching up the name of the deceased soldier.

Bing. A file with the picture of Rolf Chasey comes up. He was a handsome man. Your father is typing away when he pauses and sighs.

“Turns out he was one of ours. I was hoping this wouldn’t be the case.” Your father removes his glasses, rubbing his bridge of his nose in frustration. “We’re going to have to report this. Get ready, Y/N.”

You make yourself presentable, hands behind your back as a sign of respect. The black screen connects to a video call.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” A mysterious voice answers.

“Good evening sir. I’m here to report that one of our soldiers was found dead.” Your father reports, putting his glasses back on.

“Who was it?” the voice asks.

“Rolf Chasey.” Your father answers.

“Hmm. He was a good soldier. That’s unfortunate. That means that someone is aware.”

You chime in. “All due respect, sir, what if it was just a rogue killing?”

“Your uniform protects you from everything, aside for a few weak spots. If a soldier is dead, that means someone knew these weak spots beforehand and planned everything. We’re going to have to escalate the timeline a bit.”

“How fast are we talking, sir?” This really complicates things.

“Tomorrow. I’m going to need you to commit a bigger crime that will get you inside the wall, in the jail here.”

You stand, frozen. A list of the crimes you can commit starts running through your head. The one at the top of the list being murder.

“You want me to kill someone?” You ask for clarification.

“Not just anyone. I heard there is a troublesome soldier on your team. Vince, right?”

Ahh, Vince. Is it finally his time to go? You’ve been waiting for this day. The day you can finally start ridding the earth of it’s filth.

“I’ll make it happen, sir.” You bow and the screen goes black without another word.

“Y/N. Are you ready?” Father asks as he is typing on his keyboard.

“This is what you’ve been training me for, father.”

“I know that but keep in mind. Training to kill and actually killing are two very different things. Once you take a life, you can never go back.” He pauses his typing and looks at you. “I’ll ask one more time. Are you ready for this?”

“Father, I was born to do this.” You answer with a smirk.

Another morning starts, dragging you out of bed with its drug induced embrace. You reluctantly get ready for your shift as you feel more tired today than ever. Last night’s events still run through your head. The dead body, the little girl, the orders. You pause between buttoning your shirt and hope that the little girl is okay.

You head downstairs and as per usual, everyone is still asleep. There was no catch left on the table for your family but you made a promise to bring something home with you. Feeding the fire once again, you head out the door.

The comforting scent of petrichor greets you just as the rising sun does. You begin your daily trek down the mountain. You make it to the bottom just as your name is called out.

“L/N! My son can move faster than you and he can’t even walk yet!” screams the C.O. from yesterday.

“I apologize, sir.” muttering this apology takes quite a lot from you but you have to do it to survive.

“Go get your weapon and get in the truck. We have a long day ahead of us.” He walks away while muttering something along the lines of “bloodbath.”

Huh? Bloodbath? What is he talking about? Curiosity runs rampant in your mind as you continue the procedure to sign out a weapon. Once finished, you’re sitting in the truck as it begins it’s bumpy drive to the town.

“Did y’all hear? Apparently lots of rats were executed last night?” You hear Vince gossip. “They deserve it. Breaking the laws as they see fit. Not following the rules.”

“Vince, do I need to remind you again why we’re here?” You say this in between counting the minutes it takes to get you to town.

“What the fuck did you say? You’re always running your mouth, eh? I’ll show you today what happens when women don’t keep their mouths shut.” With that, he turns his back to you and continues talking about the massacre.

Yes, Vince. I’ll show you today. I’ll make sure you look real pretty. These types of thoughts occupy your mind until you reach your destination.

“Roll out, everyone. It’s a sight to see that’s for sure but don’t forget why we are here. Get to it.”

You hop out of the truck with your stun gun at the ready. With a quick look around, you notice you’re at the same spot as yesterday. Except today there’s red everywhere. On the ground. The walls. The windows. It was as if some giant had painted the town red with it’s paintbrush.

“Go around each body and count them. L/N, you go to the west quarter. The same store you were at yesterday.”

You follow his orders and head back to the store but your heart is racing. You’re wondering if that little girl

Is okay. The dog. If they know you took the name of the dead soldier. You hear Vince behind you and you stop.

“Why are you following me?” You try to keep your expression cool.

“Was told to keep an eye on you. Figures. Can't trust women to do shit.” He shoves into your shoulder as he walks past you.

A couple of minutes pass but you’re finally at the store. Lining the entrance are black body bags. Three to be exact. One of them looks small. You head towards it and gently unzip it. You pause to take a deep breath before unzipping it completely. Laying there, as if frozen in time, is the little girl from yesterday. She looks so peaceful aside from the giant hole in her chest. Your eyes follow her until you notice her tiny hand is holding onto something. Checking your surroundings to make sure Vince isn’t near you, you try to open up her fist. It’s hard as the body has already started decomposing but soon enough you’re able to open her hand. Laying inside, shiny as the day you gave them to her, are the coins.

You zip the bag once again and get up to walk away. Who would do such a thing? Why didn’t she run away? The familiar hot feeling of tears starts to form in your eyes. No. Not now. Not here.

“What’s the matter? Did that sight make you sick, whore? It makes me feel euphoric. Seeing a pest get what it deserves.” Vince continues to rattle on disgusting things about the little girl but you’ve heard enough. You’ve seen enough. You try to control the red haze that is clouding your vision as you cannot afford to lose your temper here. Not when you’re so close.

A small bark catches your attention and the dog from yesterday comes running up to you, whining.

“Let me take care of that, L/N. I’ll let you have your little female moment.” Vince says as he heads to grab the dog by the scruff. Just before his hands touch the dog, you break your silence.

“Touch that dog, and I’ll chop off your fucking hands, Vince.” He pauses in shock and looks at you, eyebrows raised.

“Excuse me?” He sounds to be in shock but you can’t understand why.

“Did I stutter? Do you want me to break it down for your small pea sized brain? You touch the dog. You die.”

Vince slowly walks closer to you, like a predator stalking its prey. “What do you think you can do to me, huh? I’m twice your size. I have more fighting experience than you. I was raised on the streets. What do you honestly think you can do to me, Y/N?” He is now standing toe to toe with you.

You raise your gaze to meet his, eyes darkening. You open your mouth to tell him to back off but he lowers his head right towards your ear and whispers “Do you think you’re all that because you got orders to kill me?”

Your entire body freezes. How did he know?

“Wow. The look on your face right now, amazing. It’s kind of turning me on. Now, you think you’re the only one on some type of mission here but we all want out. Some of us were fortunate to make connections. Others, not so much. Let me give you some advice, girl. You should go home. Take care of your family. Before they’re gone.” He raises his hand to pat your shoulder. “Did you remember to turn off the burner this morning? I think your mother forgot to turn it off last night.”

After the mention of your family, you’re already running. You can hear the dog running behind you, barking, but you're focused on getting back home. Knowing it will take you at least an hour on foot to get back home, you head towards the truck. The driver is asleep on the wheel. You quickly knock your knuckles on the window, waking him up.

“I need to get back home.” He laughs at your requests and tells you to fuck off. Wrong move. You shatter the window with your elbow, unlock the door, and drag him out.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He tries to reach for his comms but you rip it out of his ear and stomp on it.

“You say another word and I’ll kill you.” Shoving him aside, you jump into the driver's seat. Right before you close the door, the dog jumps in, making himself comfortable on the front seat.

No time to kick him out, you start the truck and speed off. In the rear view mirror, you can see the driver attempting to chase you. With your foot on the gas, you press it harder, causing the truck to lurch forward in a burst.

“L/N! Return the truck! That is an order!” Your C.O, yells through your comms. You wince at the volume and just rip it out of your ear.

It seems like forever has passed before you’re at the base of the mountain. Quickly putting the truck in park, you run out and up the mountain.

Please. Please be okay. You keep running at full speed. Tumbling over rocks and forgotten branches. You start to smell the familiar scent of fire. No. God, please no.

Right in front of you, is your small house, engulfed in flames. The fire tore everything in its path, leaving a desolate trail of only ash and rubble. Your mother. Your father. Your brother. You fall to your knees as the flame gets bigger and bigger.

“MOTHER! FATHER! BROTHER!” You desperately scream in hopes that one of them will answer. The scalding heat of the flames start to reach you.

The dog from earlier is barking at a pile of what used to be your wooden shed. It starts to try to drag one piece of wood off but it’s too big. “What are you doing?” you whisper.

“Y/N.” What was that? The ghost of your family calling out to you? Or the wind playing games. You hear it again.

“Y/N.” This time it’s louder and it’s coming from the pile the dog was digging at. You crawl towards it and start digging.

“Y/N, help me.” It’s your brother’s voice. Finally moving aside enough rubble to see his face, you start to cry tears of relief.

“Brother, are you okay?” You ask in desperation but more removal of rubble reveals a horrid detail. Your brother’s body is no longer intact. There’s blood everywhere.

“Where were you, Y/N?” He asks between laboured breaths. “I was waiting for you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Please don’t speak. I’ll try to get help.” You get up to get said help but your brother's faint grasp on your hand stops you.

“Y/N. I don’t think you can find the help I need here. I can’t feel my legs.”

“No. Please don’t say that.” You grab his hand in both of yours and hold it to your forehead. “I can’t. I don’t know how to do this.”

“You can and you will. I know I’m only ten but I’m pretty mature. I know it’s hard for you to interact with people but you’re a good person and an even better sister. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“I will try my hardest not to.” This can’t be happening.

“I think I have to go now. I love you.” Life slowly starts to fade from his eyes right as he finishes his sentence.

You start to cry. Heart wrenching sobs free themselves from your chest. You’re making sounds you didn’t know you were capable of making. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You can’t see. You're utterly and completely broken.

As you sit there, still holding his hand, you move your gaze to your house to see it now completely consumed by the flames. You’re broken. What happened? How did Vince know about your orders? Who executed this order?

With the sound of the dog barking, you make a vow. You make a vow to head into the walls and destroy anyone and anything in your path until the person who killed your family is begging for their life in front of you. You vow.

Taglist: @porcoqalliard @lue-arlert @coffeeforday @sunshinedragonofthewest @oh-theseus @levis-hazelnut

#aot #attack on titan fanfic #levi x y/n #dystopian au #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #snk

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spooky-luvur · 4 years ago

Note

I hope this isn’t too specific but I have an idea for Micah. gender neutral! reader sees Micah being outcast from the group, so they start to spend more time with him, hoping he’ll open up. Micah starts to fall hard for reader but scared of rejection he asks reader to help him clean up his act and be nicer to Javier, Charles, the women, etc. Maybe the last scene could be them in private and reader says “You’re a good man, Micah.”? Idk just something thats pretty sweet/fluffy. Thanks!

Idk how to write atm bear with me it’s 5:20 am

But I hope this is good enough god he’s a bastard but I love him

Sorry for any mistakes

Dutch had let you join the gang after he had caught you attempting to steal his very expensive pocket watch. Much like Sean, he’d seen your potential and they way you thought about what would happen next. He believed it would be useful and convinced Hosea to let you in.

At first, you didn’t really do anything. You sat on the tree stump on the cliff at the edge of camp, watching the days go by. You’d watch the gang members. How they laughed, how they cried, how they danced and smiled and hugged and sang and celebrated. How they helped and smiled at each other.

Except one person.

Micah Bell.

You watched him too. But he didn’t sing or dance or laugh or smile. Instead he frowned and antagonized and drank and slept.

Your first thought of him was: what a sad man.

Why was he so angry all the time?

Well, not all the time.

Sometimes when the gang was dancing he’d politely ask the young author, Mary Beth to dance. He’d stutter and hold out his hand, but she’d harshly turn him away. Then he’d turn away, and if you looked closely, you saw that he indeed was a sad man.

“Micah.”

The man glances up from polishing his precious guns.

“What?”

“Dutch needs us to scope out the hills. A few camps there that may have something worth taking.”

Micah scoffs. “Us?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

———

“I like your horse.”

At first, it doesn’t register. Then Micah turns to you, face scrunched up in confusion.

“What?”

You hum. “Baylock. He’s pretty strong. Healthy. You take good care of him. That’s admirable.”

Micah looks back at the long stretch of dirt road in front of us.

“He’s all I got.”

“How come?”

You see his jaw clench, and he shifts in the saddle.

“Shut up.”

————

There was a patch of trees not far from the back of the hut a few O’Driscoll’s were holding up in. Dutch mentioned there might be some, but they had pretty powerful looking guns.

You and Micah were hidden between a few tight trees, guns clutched in hand.

“You see any dynamite?”

“No. Got any on hand?”

“Not today.”

“It’s two guys. We hit ‘em hard and fast.”

You quickly grab his shoulder, pulling him back down before he can stand all the way.

“What the hell??”

“There’s more than two, Micah. Look.”

Three more rough-looking men emerge from the side of the rundown hut, each carrying their own guns.

“Shit. Well what do you think?”

Your eyes survey the area. The hut is made of wood, but it’s moldy and rotting. Falling in on itself. Dirty, dry, and very flammable.

“How do you feel about fire?”

“About-“

You stand, whistling sharply before hurling a lit fire bottle. It arches through the air before smashing into the roof of the hut. The flames consume the entire thing within minutes.

The O’Driscoll’s immediately turn and start shooting in our direction, making us both duck back behind the trees.

“You couldn’t have warned me?!”

“I asked you how you felt about fire!”

Micah shakes his head, but there’s a grin on his face throughout the time it takes to take out the men.

The hut still burns as we approach, making Micah holster his guns with an irritated sigh.

“And now we got no money. Good job!”

You merely point to a large chest underneath a nearby tree.

It’s satisfying to see Micah Bell speechless.

————

“You’re good with your guns. I ain’t hardly ever seen such quick shooting.”

“...”

“Them O’Driscoll’s didn’t see us comin, huh?”

“...”

“You-“

“Stop that!” Micah finally snaps, glaring over at you as you both make your way back to camp, pockets full of cash.

You meet his eye, not backing down. “No, Micah. You’re good at things and you deserve to know it.”

His brow furrows, lips curling into an angry? Frown. He huffs, looking back over. “Yeah.”

———

With night, comes the singing, the drinking, the dancing and drinking. Music from the radio in Dutch’s tent. Smiles. Laughter. For them, it’s normal. But not for-

“Micah.”

“(Y/n). What can I do for you on this fine night?”

He leans back, pocketing his knife.

“Another job? Dutch got someone else we need to shoot?”

“Will you dance with me?”

His eyes grow wide, and you have to bite back a laugh. You grin though, and the man sputters, then scoffs to hide it.

“Yeah, right.”

Holding out your hand in an actual offering, he glances down at it before looking back up at you. The look isn’t incredulous. It isn’t disgusted, it isn’t mean or perverted. It’s almost...

...sad.

“Will you dance with me tonight, Micah?”

“Look, you can shoot good, but we ain’t-“

“Oh for heavens sake.”

You pull him up yourself, laughing as he stumbles and nearly makes the two of you fall over.

You hold one hand, putting the other on his shoulder. His other hand hovers in the air for a moment before resting on your side.

The slow song, fluttering in the night like a breeze seems to play louder. Micah can’t meet your eye. Instead, he looks to the side, down, at your neck, anywhere.

“Come on Micah. I ain’t that ugly am I?”

“Shut up.”

You give him a smile before closing your eyes, slowly resting your head on his shoulder. You feel his chest rise sharply, exhaling with a quick, muttered word.

“Shit.”

————

“I don’t understand.”

Micah sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Come on, you’re really gonna make me say it again?”

You blink.

“I want...to change....” the word is forced out, his mouth clamping shut immediately after.

You cross your arms.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really! Javier, the redskin, the women. I don’t exactly treat ‘em right.”

“Okay, first of all, you can’t be racist if you want to get on Javier or Charles’ good side. Or the ladies, for that matter. Now,” you straighten up. “Say their names again.”

“What? I don’t-“

“You wanna be nicer? Say their names.”

He realizes his former mistakes, and his shoulders lower slightly.

“Javier, Charles, Karen, Mary Beth and Tilly.”

“And?”

“Sadie Adler.”

“And pretty much everyone but it’s a start. Sit down, Micah.” You pat the log next to you, scooting over time let him sit.

“Now, what do you think you’re doing wrong?”

————

“Hey, Javier...”

Javier looks up from polishing a throwing knife wit some sort of oil, slightly taken aback from seeing Micah standing there.

“Hey, Micah. You need something?”

“I uh...I heard you needed some Oleander. I found some, could you use it?”

Javier glances down at Micah’s outstretched hand, picking up the poisonous plant, turning it over.

“Yeah, this is...perfect, actually. Thanks, Micah.” He gives him a nod.

Micah quickly turns and leaves, giving you a thumbs up.

—

“Charles!”

His eyes linger on whatever Micah has in his hand for a split second, but Charles’s eyes meet Micah’s when he approaches.

“Yes.”

Micah hesitates. Would this even count as an ‘apology?’ Charles did punch him once, but he admits, he probably deserved it.

“I uh, here, take it.”

His holds out the elegantly carved bow, bound with a strong twine. Charles glances at him before back at the bow, carefully taking it. He runs his fingers over the smooth wood.

“Micah, this is Yew. How did you make this?”

“Well, (Y/n) helped me some. Said you’d care for it.”

Charles sighs, but nods. “I do.” He, like Javier, gives Micah one last look before leaving and for that, Micah breaths out a sigh of relief.

——

Something...odd, was happening, and the gang members began to notice. Micah had begun to yell less, and curse, and mock and accuse and bully. He’d helped Tilly carry a heavy load of clothes, he’d sewn a book cover for Mary Beth, donated more money, (left the hunting to Arthur) stopped kicking Cain, stopped doing things that would make him a *bad person.* Yes, he still got drunk, brushed people off, and pushed Arthur and Kieran around a bit, but other than that? Damn.

At the end of the two weeks, Micah had been sitting beside (Y/n) at one of the tables. They had an odd grin on their face, making Micah a little uneasy.

“You got something to say, say it.”

“Oh I got something to say, but not here. Come on, Bell.”

Reaching the large tree (Y/n) had first approached Micah at, they take his hand, surprising him.

“I’m proud of you, Micah. Honestly? I had my doubts. You were such an angry man. All alone, moping.”

“I do not mope.”

(Y/n) laughs, “Well, not anymore you don’t! What would you do without me, huh?”

“Certainly not mope-“

The blond is cut off by a sudden kiss. He doesn’t push away.

Pulling apart, (Y/n) rests their hand against Micahs face, letting him lean into it.

“You’ve changed, Micah Bell. You’re a good man.”

Micah looks away. “I don’t know about that.”

“Things are gonna happen, that we know. But you don’t gotta do it alone.”

————

#rdr2 #rdr2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #micah bell #micah bell x reader #micah bell x male reader

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years ago

Text

Hunter meeting Hunter

A Xaviera Lah-Mo and Andrei Kulokova Story Chapter 3

Authors Note: Wow....This one is long, but I was in such a big writing mood for these two that I had to do it. We learn some of Xaviera’s memories, we see some sparks flying and we see how two souls bond into one.

Chapter 1 HERE

Chapter 2 HERE

Xaviera Lah-Mo belongs to me

Andrei Kulokova @the-slasher-files

Warnings: 18+ because there are sexual scenes and straight up SMUT

Words: 5.8k

After that incident, Xaviera stayed the rest of the night preparing for the hunt; cleaning her sniper rifle, a weapon that took the life of so many poachers across the globe, from Asia to Africa and even Europe, annihilating greedy humans that wanted to take lives of animals for their own egoistical gains.

Then there were the small arrows. She smirked, remembering how some mocked the small weapons, insignificant at first glance, but only if they knew what they packed, they would have thought twice.

Xaviera learned that size sometimes doesn't help you when faced with a creature that has enough venom to put down an elephant. Her favorites were the snake neurotoxins, like the one of the black African mamba, it's venom could kill a human in 20 minutes if you don't have the anti-venom. It was like a ticking bomb.

Then the venom of the King Cobra; its bite delivers a tremendous amount of paralysis-inducing neurotoxins. The snake’s venom is so strong and so voluminous that it can kill an elephant in just a few hours. Death also results in at least 50 to 60 percent of untreated human cases.

Oxyuranus microlepidotus, also called, appropriately, the fierce snake; Xaviera remembers encountering this deadly snake. She witnessed it during one of the expeditions and one of the researchers got bitten. The venom consists of taipoxin, a complex mix of neurotoxins, procoagulants, and myotoxins that paralyze muscles, inhibit breathing, cause hemorraging in blood vessels and tissues, and damage muscles. The researcher didn't survive; a single drop of venom from the reptile can supposedly kill 100 men.

It left many experts dumbfounded, but Xaviera learned to respect that snake.

'Respect what can kill you.' That's what her father used to tell her when she was little.

'Never underestimate the size of some creatures.' he also would say.

Sitting down at the table, injecting the hallow arrows with the specific venoms, her mind drifted to the memories of when her father would take her to his travels, teaching her all the basic surviving tactics, how to approach certain animals.

'You can look, but you can't touch.' he would instruct her, especially when they encountered very majestic animals, like the banded krait. It was a beautiful snake, it's scaling in obsidian black and strong yellow, but when her father told her that the neurotoxin it sported can induce paralysis, she quickly nodded.

Xaviera missed him so much, and her mother too. She would always patch Xaviera up when she got hurt, also teaching her medical tactics, how to stop hemorrhage, how to properly disinfect a wound and stitch it up.

The white-haired woman closed her eyes; she was getting emotional and that was a dangerous thing to do, considering the predicament she was into. She needed to remember that there was also a predator with her in the cottage.

For now, he seemed unharmful. If he so badly had wanted, he could have killed her by now.

'Never let your guard down when you are surrounded by wild creatures.' her father's words echoed in her head.

She swallowed hard, remembering one time when she was careless, her young age and immaturity showed back then.

She went with her father on a small trip close to their homes in North America, in dense forests to observe the wilderness, only for this expedition to almost take Xaviera's life. They encountered three small bear cubs.

That meant only one thing; there was also a mother bear near and she was furious. Xaviera couldn't blame the adult bear. She was protecting her cubs and if it wasn't for her father that tranquilized the feral, giant of an animal, Xaviera wouldn't have been here now.

Although, the Grizzly Bear gave the white-haired woman a souvenir to remember her by. She remembers how the bear charged towards her, flashing jaws that could probably crush her skull and claws that were five-inch long.

It left five long deep enough scratch marks from her hip down her outer thigh, almost to her knee. Her father saved her; always carrying a tranquilizer-gun in case they encounter wild and untamed beasts.

Xaviera sighed, finished with the venomous arrows, putting them in a special bag, made of thick leather. Carrying around weapons like this was deadly. You never know if you accidentally pierce yourself with one.

Her light blue eyes moved to the window, seeing it was already morning, lightly snowing. Maybe tomorrow she will go out if the weather calmed down, itching to finish the leeches that she knew very well had captured a snow leopard.

'The fucking parasites.' she thought, her brows pulled into a frown.

Her gruesome fantasy disappeared when the need for food made itself known, stomach signaling her that. She moved towards the kitchen, starting to make some soup, cutting the vegetables, calculating the number of ingredients she needed for two people.

She groaned; why did she care for that man's well being? He was obscene, cocky, and infuriating. Still, the way he shushed and cooed her after her nightmare made something in her chest light up, like a small fire that started to heat up her insides.

She huffed in annoyance at this. He was infuriating. Period.....and he made her want to castrate him.

But none deserves to die by starvation, so pushing the strong emotions aside she continues to prepare the dish, putting all the ingredients cauldron and letting it boil, waiting next to it, absorbing in the warmness it provided and the delicious aromas, while she was reading one of her zoology books, enjoying the silence, while it lasts because she knows once the soup is done she will have to go back upstairs with that infuriating specimen of a male.

Xaviera was so into reading, stopping at a paragraph about ranks in the packs of animals when the soup started to boil. She set the book down on the table, then filled two bowls with the hot food, letting it cool down a little, preparing herself to go upstairs and hope she won't be forced to scratch his face off.

Taking the bowls and setting them on a tray, she slowly marched upstairs, feeling her heartbeat pick up a little.

Headstrong man plays with her head.

She pushed the door open with her foot, seeing Andrei gaze out the window, his knives next to him on the bed. She walked towards the nightstand to set the tray down, the small clang of it pulling the man from his thoughts.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and confused face, still suspicious probably for why she was still taking care of him. To be honest, Xaviera didn't know the answer either. Curse him for being more animal than human.

"Thank you, myshka." he spoke, taking the bowl of soup and sitting it on his lap.

She nodded his way, taking her own bowl of soup and sitting in the armchair like she did yesterday. It felt like such a deja vu.

"None deserves to die by starvation." she simply told him, starting to eat in silence, savoring the first spoons of the warm dish.

"So...Are you going to tell me what you are doing here in Himalaya?" she asked, looking at him with curious blue eyes.

He looked at her for a few seconds, like he was debating if he should answer.

"My job...it's um, well I'm a...I kill people for money." he answered, then continued.

"The poachers are from Ukraine, and the job took me here." he finished, watching her carefully as he took a sip off the spoon.

Normal people would probably be frightened by such a statement, but Xaviera was no normal woman. She killed humans herself and she lost count of how many died; sometimes by having their heads shot or a deadly venomous arrow piercing them, but that's the easy case.

Most of the time she just started the kill, then watched as the animals killed the poachers. Being ripped to shreds by a lion wasn't an easy dead.

Xaviera tilted her head to the side curiously like a cat.

"I see. Well, they are dead so I am more than content with that, although there are more leeches that need to be crushed." she replied, almost finished with her soup.

"Once the snowing stops I am out to balance the ecosystem." she told him, the corners of her lips twitching up in a faint dark smile.

His gaze was directly on her.

"So much fight, so much promise within you, little mouse..." he spoke, taking another spoonful of soup.

"The fire you have is strong...don't ever let anyone take that from you." he finished, getting up, making Xaviera tense a little.

He looked like he would stroke her cheek or share an intimate moment, which made Xaviera nervous, only for the Russian to hand her the half-empty bowl of soup and ruffling her white hair, giving her a smirk, then disappearing downstairs.

She was surprised he healed so fast; probably was used to it, but that's not what clouded the woman's mind. His words, much like the Grizzly scars that she was sporting and hiding, were now printed deep in her mind, giving her a feeling of pride, feeling like her ears were on fire, probably from blushing.

It was so long since someone told her such words, the last time someone praised her in such a deep way was her father. She shook her head, clearing her mist-filled mind, taking the tray with the two almost empty bowls, and walking downstairs.

The first thing she saw Andrei look through his weapons; she was tense at first, probably waiting for him to use them on her, but after she realized he was only checking them, she walked towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

"Y'know the kife, this one here, it is my favorite weapon...." he begins to speak, but she didn't look his way, but she did listen to his words.

"Only certain soldiers are skilled with these...." he continues and Xaviera hears his footsteps.

"It is very intimate game of life, death and the blade in hand...almost like a dance." his voice sounds very close and she knows that he is behind her, making her stop, her hands holding the bowl while she tries not to let him get to her; she needs to control her emotions.

She felt like ice was dripping down her back when one of Andrei's hands wee gently placed on her hip, where her scars started down, but luckily the clothes were hiding them.

He moved his other hand that held the knife in front of her, her jaw tense, prepared in case he decided to do something and test his theory that followed.

"This knife has saved me more than hundred times." she could feel his hot breath down the nape of her neck; cursing herself for pulling her hair into a messy bun, but the long white locks always got in the way when she washed the dishes.

His lips grazed her soft skin, making her eyes widen.

"And my favorite part...seeing the knife slip quietly between the bones, slicing skin like butter, dripping in hot blood as you pull it back...." then he kissed her neck, her shoulders so tense, like a feline ready to pounce.

"It's a beautiful sight." he finished, pulling the knife from her view.

She would have probably used her sarcasm on him, telling him how oh-so poetic he can be, but she couldn['t, because the Russian was in her personal space, way too close for her comfort and not in the usual 'I wanna choke you to death until your eyes are dull and lifeless'.

No. There was too much sexual ineduo dripping from his words and you could taste the atmosphere, which by seconds it turned electric.

Her breathing was the first giveaway of her feelings, a new form of vulnerability enveloping her.

She never had someone so intimately close to her, in such a way that made her feel like she was walking on thin ice.

"W-What are you doing?" she asked, cursing her voice for sounding so weak, so fragile.

Andrei just huffed in laughter, amused at her discomfort.

"Well, little mouse, we are probably going to be stuck here for a few days, and there is no TV or entertainment...." he replied, the hand that was holding the knife, grazed the outside of her thigh, moving upward, only to make her more anxious.

"I am not a big fan of reading, so I thought you could be my entertainment." he finished by kissing her neck, sensitive to his touch and making her breath hitch in her throat.

The sexual ineduo was too obvious now, the grip on the bowl so tight she almost broke it. Her eyes wide, not knowing how to react or what to do, never being in such a combusting situation.

"I-I...." she tried to form words, but it's like they were stuck in her throat, knees starting to shake.

She was a nervous mess.

"Cat got your tongue?" he sarcastically asked, playing with the hem of her shirt, while his other hand held her hip tight, making sure she was planted against him.

"Or should I say wolf?" he laughed, his canines grazing along her naked shoulder, nipping and kissing, all thanks to her over-sized shirt that slipped of her shoulder.

The white-haired woman felt her cheeks go on fire at the way his voice sounded and how he touched her.

What was she supposed to say? That she never indulged in the more carnal and primal activities? That she never was touched? That she was a virgin!?

She had a few boyfriends in college, but there was nothing more than kissing and a little bit of touching here and there; of course, nothing could compare to what the Russian in front of her was doing to her.

When his canines nipped more at her skin she dropped the bowl into the sink.

"N-No...It's just..." again she couldn't find it in her to properly speak.

In a flash, Andrei roughly whipped her around and hauled her on the counter with ease in a display of raw strength, making her squeak, his form settling himself between her legs, towering over her small form. His ice-blue eyes staring her down, his large and rough hands on her thigh, admiring the way she shook.

He was allowing her to speak, to continue her phrase.

Her eyes widened at the position they were in, too intimate, not to mention the way he looked at her, like a very dangerous animal ready to go in for the kill. She gulped down, trying to find her words.

"I-I....I've never..." she began, breaking eye contact with the intimidating Russian, hoping he will get the drift because it was so embarrassing to say the words herself.

Slowly, he pulled away, maintaining the predatory look, only to broke in a burst of full-on loud laughter, showing off his teeth and squinting his eyes, holding his chest and walking backward.

His laugh was deep and almost shook the cottage.

"Y-You....you what???...."

She felt her face heat up more at his reaction, laughing at her like she was a joke.

"S-Stop laughing..." she huffed, but he still didn't stop.

"I said, stop laughing, jackass!" she screamed, getting off the kitchen counter.

His laughing continued, watching her with amused eyes.

"Ba-Baby girl...oh my God." he was almost to the point of tears in his laughter and that's when Xaviera snapped.

Her icy blue eyes turning into a glare, feeling completely insulted at his laughter.

Before she knew what she was doing, her hands grasped his shirt and pushed him against the closest wall with all her strength she could muster, taking advantage of him being distracted.

"Stop laughing, asshole!" she snarled up at him; looking like a kitten that hissed at the big bad wolf.

The laughter instantly stopped, his smile dropping and turning into a snarl, his eyes darkening by her actions.

Swiftly, Andrei grabbed her throat and whipped her against the wall he was just against. She was ready to tell him to fuck off, but his large and muscular thigh was placed between her legs, right in the center, a mewl leaving her lips.

A new type of fire formed in the pit of her stomach, one that made her weak in the knees.

"W-What?" she choked out, her fingernails digging into the wrist of his hand that was wrapped around her neck, not tight enough to stop air to fill her lungs, but enough to assert his dominance over her.

Her wide eyes looked directly into his wolfish ones.

His breath hissed through gritted teeth like he was trying to control himself. He swallowed harshly, removing his hand from her neck, cupping her jaw, and stroking his thumb on her cheek.

The size difference between them was nerve breaking and she knew if he so saw fit he could rip her jaw off.

The dark scenario in her head vanished when he spoke.

"You're so beautiful, Xaviera." the first time he used her name and his words made her feel like she was made of jelly.

That glimpse of softness disappeared when the Russian grabbed her ass, making her wrap her legs around his waist, a growl leaving from deep within his chest when she accidentally grind on him a little.

She had no time to say anything because his lips crashed on hers.

Everything made her feel so dizzy and she knew if it weren't for his hands supporting her, she would have fallen down. The words he spoke echoed in her head, making her feel like her ribcage was gonna combust from how fast her heart was beating.

The adrenaline.

When she had grinded down on him, she felt something to say so....intimidating.....just like him.

"A-Andrei...." she squeaked against his mouth, her hands fisting into his shirt.

His mouth devoured hers and she found herself so weak by the many flavors he was sporting; the taste of tobacco, earl grey tea, and the faintness of the spicy soup.

He nipped at her bottom lip before he broke the kiss.

"I have you, little mouse." he whispered lowly, walking over to the couch, sitting himself down with her on his lap, his eyes trained on her like he was lost in his own mysterious mind.

Closing his eyes, he kissed her again, but this time it was much slower, but passionate, his finger laced into her soft, white hair. Her much smaller hands were gripping his shirt tight, afraid that if she let go she would fall from the rock and hit the bottom hard.

She tried to mimic the kiss, still wondering why she didn't push him away, smashing his balls and making him impotent for all his remaining life.

Maybe it was because she had never met a man like him, someone so dangerous and so at ease with his more primal instincts.

Again, he pulled away, his hand grasping her chin, resting his forehead on hers.

"But how myshka?....you're so beautiful." he asked.

How? Perhaps, she hadn't met someone that could match her, someone who wasn't afraid to indulge in the wilder side, someone who could actually keep up with her....Someone who can protect her.

She remembers in one expedition, there was a guy who tried to flirt with her, only to scream and run when one Boa fell down from a tree in front of her, and before that he was acting like he was all man and that masculinity.

"I-I've never found someone....Well...Compatible to say so...." she answered his question, looking up at him innocently from under her eyelashes.

Something sparked in his eyes, something she couldn't place her finger on.

"I will take care of you....ssh." he murmured, running his thumb along her soft lips.

Her mouth opened instinctually, his thumb moving gently inside her mouth, her tongue running over his digit and lips wrapped around it. His pupils dilatated at her innocent gesture, lips pulled into a small snarl. He was trying to control himself.

He pulled his hand away, only for his mouth to start leaving opened mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder, his big hands running under her shirt. Everywhere he touched her, he left a hot trail of fire, making her slowly moan, still shy about everything.

Xaviera tilted her head in the opposite direction, allowing him more access, just like a female animal does for the strongest male; a sign of submission. Her hands moved from his shirt to run her fingers through his hair; so soft, so fluffy, reminding her of the fur coat of a wolf.

She never felt like this before, the intensity of all her nerve-endings was stretching, absorbing every touch he gave her. She was so caught up in this newfound pleasure, just mewling in appreciation of all the attention he was basking her in, that th sound of material being ripped pulled her from the induced hormonal state.

Ice blue eyes opening to see he had ripped her shirt like it was made of paper, exposing her upper body, chest covered by a simple white bra, nothing fancy. When you were always on the run like a wild free-spirited animal just like her, you didn't have time to worry about expensive lingerie with all kinds of designs.

His hands quickly moved behind her to undo her bra, breaking the hook in the process, but that was her last of her worry because when the white material was tossed behind him, she wanted to cover herself, but he was much quicker than her, grasping her wrists from doing so. Not enough to break, but enough to tell her not to cover.

The way he was looking at her made her nervous; were they too small, not his desired shape? His tongue peeked out from his mouth, running along one of his canines.

A loud gasp tore from her throat when his mouth laced to one of her nipples, sucking and biting on it greedily. The other breast wasn't ignored, his calloused hand grabbing the globe of flesh, his fingers twisting the nipple.

Her hands tugged on his light brown faux hawk, her head tossed back, and looking at the ceiling. She never knew that such actions could make her feel like this; it made her feel weak, but in such a delicious way, wetness forming between her legs, giving her an uncomfortable feeling.

Trying to adjust herself, she ground on him, feeling the bulge in his cargo pants, only for a primal growl to erupt from Andrei, biting her nipple rather roughly, making her scream, whimpering as he started to lap at the rosy red bud.

It was such a weird mix of pain and pleasure.

His mouth, moved up along her chest, continuing to nip and bite, leaving trails of hickeys in his path; just like a wolf marking his territory. Blue and purples adored her pale skin in intricate patterns.

"Myshka." he growled against her neck, canines grazing her pulse, making the white-haired woman whimper; not in fear, but in sinful submission, something she never thought she would do.

Before she knew it, he moved off the couch with his hands supporting her body again, hands groping her small tight ass as he marched upstairs, her arms wrapped around his neck.

The door to the bedroom was kicked open rather roughly and surprisingly, her form gently laid on the bed and he pulled her lips into a sloppy kiss, showing how eager he was to devour her, to make her feel things she never even had in her life.

He loved to bite, that's for sure, Xaviera noticed that and his sharp canines only made him more of a beast than a man, but God if it didn't send her into a turned-on mess. She could feel how soaked she was and she knew he would be all smug about it.

His lips moved to her ear, licking it, then nipping on the cartilage. Xaviera squeaked, her hands running up and down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

"Sensitive there, baby girl?" he whispered in her ear, blowing hot air, stealing more lewd noises from the woman underneath him.

She was ready to throw him some colorful words, but that thought flew off the window when he sucked harshly on her earlobe, his hands, tugging her pants down in such an uncivil way, leaving her with only a pair of white cotton panties.

His eyes drifted to something that caught his interest; her Grizzly scars. She was afraid he might be pulled off by them, but she was surprised to feel him gently trace the marks, silently telling her it was alright, nothing to be ashamed of.

His eyes then moved to her panties.

Andrei smirked at the choice of her colors, so simple yet so innocent, running two thick fingers up and down her covered pussy, making her legs twitch.

"So cute, little mouse." he commented, making her face heat up.

He always managed to turn her into a flustering mess. She looked at him with confusion when he crawled off her, only for her legs to be thrown on his broad shoulders, his fingers pulling her panties aside, taking a glimpse at her most private parts, so untouched. His big thumb caressed her folds, spreading her wetness more.

"You're so wet for me, baby girl....I wanna have a taste of this juicy pussy of yours." he whispered, voice rough and growling at the end.

Her eyes widened when he felt his mouth on her, tongue lapping at what her heat had to offer him, his canines grazing her outer labia. Her hands fisted the bedsheets, as a series of lustful moans and mewls escaped her mouth; the way he was working her, switching from suckling to biting, the heels of her feet digging into his broad back, instinctually her legs closed around his head, pulling him in closer.

"A-Andrei!" she squeaked his name as his sharp teeth nibbled on her clit, making tears form at the corner of her eyes from how the pleasure was hitting her like a dagger.

It didn't help the growls that left his mouth, sending vibrations straight up her core and a weird feeling was forming into the pit of her stomach; she knew what was gonna happen.

"W-Wait....S-Stop....O-Or I am gonna-" she warned him, but he was just his stubborn self, not stopping his assault on her pussy, pushing one thick finger inside her and she was done, a long and loud whine.

She breathed heavily as he lapped up her juices, slowly raising up and looking at her with wide eyes, that feral look in them making her tremble.

"S-Sorry...." she apologized, seeing his mouth, jaw, and chin covered in wetness.

His wet lips pulled into his trademark wolfish grin, canines on full display, delighted by what she just did. He moved back over her, smashing his lips eagerly on hers, making Xaviera taste herself.

"See how good you taste, pussycat?" he asked against her lips, her eyes half-lidded as he looked into his own.

Her hands tugged on his shirt, a small whine leaving her, wanting to feel his skin. Getting up, he tugged his black shirt off, strong muscles on display, skin that was covered in scars, especially a big one down his chest, her eyes following the movements of his hands as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his cargo pants.

He kicked his combat boots off, then teasingly slipped the last piece of clothing off, along with his boxers. Innocent blue eyes widened as his length was freed, slapping against his abdomen. Her mouth hung open; he was big, everything about him was big, and screamed pure raw strength. Precum oozed from the rosy type, two obvious veins along the girthy length.

When her eyes looked up at his face, she could tell he was mighty proud of what he was packing; masculine pride.

"Close your mouth, myshka before I put something to occupy it." his obscene words made her quickly close it, hearing him chuckle at her flustered face.

The Russian moved back over her, his big hands pinning her tiny ones next to each side of her head as he gazed down directly into her glassy ones.

She gasped as he felt his length rub between her legs, the material of her panties adding to the friction.

"Feel what you're doing to me, darling? This is all your work." he growled, an inch away from her lips, her panties thoughtfully soaked.

In one swift move, one hand left her wrist to rip her panties off, coming back to grip her wrist back.

That was it, no more barries, nothing else between them, his cock rubbing directly on her soft skin, wet and eager for him to take it.

"P-Please..." she whispered, her legs opening more for him.

"W-What was that, myshka? You have to be more precise." he teased, making her whine.

She couldn't believe he was going to make her beg; he had managed to do something no man has ever done.

"P-Please...I-I need it." she choked out when his mouth laced on the skin behind her ear.

"What's that you want? My big cock, baby girl? That's what you want so badly?" he snarled into her ear, his canines running up and down the length of her neck and she threw her head back, the full length of her neck now on display, exactly like a female in heat that needs to be mounted by the most powerful male; the most intimate act of submission.

"Yes, please! Now, hurry up!" she screamed, exasperated with this anticipation.

That seemed to be the call because the follow action made her choke on her own breath, legs wrapping around his waist and her fingernails digging into his back, her mouth in an 'o' shape as she gazed with deer-like eyes into his feral ones, trying probably not to fuck her brains out since it's her first time.

She felt so full like she was going to be ripped in half, tears running down her cheeks, her breath stuck in her throat.

One of his hands cupped her cheek, whipping her tears away.

"Shhh...Breath, myshka....Breath. I'm here." he cooed, letting her adjust and she was very grateful for that.

No way was he average. Fuck no.

She tried to control her body, her breathing, relaxing her tense muscles as much as she could and she gave him a slight nod, motioning for him to move a little, which he did, very slowly, but by the way, his jaw was so tense, muscles bulging under scarred skin, she knew it was hard to control himself.

First, just some experimental thrusts, adjusting to his size, closing her eyes, the foreign feeling of pain fading away little by little which each push and pull until there was only pleasure, her moans signaling him that he could move harder, which he happily did, but he still held back.

"Fuck....You're so tight." he growled in her neck, slipping in and out of her cunt.

Xaviera couldn't form words and she let the primal sounds speak. The slow, languid pace quickly turned into fast and experimental thrusts, their skin slapping together whenever Andrei hilted inside her.

"So dripping for me." he breathed, his hands moving to grasp her ass.

"Yesssss." the white-haired woman mewled, her hands running through his hair.

He used his grip on her behind to move her body up and down his length, her body so light and easy to manhandle.

Now she knew why the animals were so feral in mating; how could you not be when all this pleasure is exploding through your veins. She knew it wasn't going to take her long to cum again, not by how he was starting to pound her cunt.

"Are you close, little mouse?" he asked her, one of her hands fisting his hair.

"I can feel you squeezing around me so eagerly." he sounded so primal; like a true apex predator wanting to conquer his mate.

"Mhmm..." she answered, the delicious knot ready to snap.

"Who do you belong to?" he growled, canines dangerously close to her neck artery.

"W-What?" she asked in a breathless moan.

She guessed that wasn't what he wanted to hear, because he gave her such a harsh thrust that made her toes curl.

"I asked.....Who do you belong to?" his voice had a growling tint, clearly losing his patience.

All her ration vanished then.

"Y-You.....I'm yours. I'm all yours." Xaviera whined when he slipped his cock almost all the way out, only for the tip to rest inside her.

He was going to kill her like this.

He kept her like this, only to took her by surprise when he pushed all the way in, a series of quick and deep thrusts followed, the tip of his length hitting that sweet spot inside her over and over, and she came heavily, her fingernails so deep in his back, running down, leaving a trail of hot red marks.

His cock twitched inside her and she felt warmness in the pit of her belly, making her feel like she was flying on a cloud, but she also had the feeling that she was really fucking a wolf, by the sound that left Andrei's mouth. His lips pulled into a snarl, deadly k9's glinting and the most erotic growl she ever heard meet her ears.

They both tried to catch their breaths, a smirk tugging at the Russian's lips as he looked down at her face; rosy red cheeks, eyes showing deep satisfaction and her lips swollen from the kissing.

"Speechless, koshechka?" (koshechka=pussycat)

Xaviera just gulped down, nodding her head and making him chuckle at her adorable expression, his hand coming to her head, running his thick fingers through her long soft winter locks, his mouth moving to her head as he whispered in Russian.

She didn't know what he said, but by the way, he spoke, it feels soothing, like he was singing her a lullaby.

She felt his thumb graze her pulse, one of her hands running up and down his chest gently, especially over his big scar.

It was like the fire died down and the only thing that was left was a sense of tranquility, a smile tugging at Xaviera's lips.

"Moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars." he whispered against her neck, kissing one of the bigger bitemarks he left on her. (moy prekrasnyy snezhnyy bars= my beautiful snow leopard)

She sighed contently, enjoying this rare moment, her hand playing with his fluffy hair as he littered her neck in all the attention.

Neither of them were sleepy and probably their minds were clouded with tons of questions and wonders.

#Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei Kulokova #Andrei Kulokova x Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei x xaviera #Slasher oc #Killer OCs #Original characters #story Time

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years ago

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter III]

Word count: 4,976

Warnings: mentions of sexual abuse, vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link if you prefer that format.

My phone rang.

Moaning sleepily, I rolled over on the bed searching blindly for it on the bedside table. My fingers found the vibration’s source and grabbed it. I peeked out of one eye so I could see the screen and accept the call, without taking notice of who was calling.

“Yeah?” I answered, closing my eyes again.

“I want to know everything.”

“Diana?”

“Who else?” said my neighbour. “You missed our breakfast so I expect it was an above average night for you.”

“You’re so nosy!” I complained but chuckled. “Was I loud?” I grimaced, expecting the worst and imagining my other neighbour’s faces at me the next time I decided to stroll down the street.

“Well, I definitely heard you but I’m literally one door away from you. And Jack and Suze are on holiday so, you don’t have to worry about them. Come outside, I’ve made us lunch.”

“‘Kay. Give me a minute and I’ll be right there.”

I sighed and, phone still in hand, attempted to get up but immediately lied down again upon feeling that I had a stiff neck. Staring at the ceiling, my mind flashed back to last night and I smacked my forehead.

“World’s biggest hickey, indeed,” I muttered as I strained to get out of bed. “Ow, ow, ow.”

I opened the curtains on my way to the bathroom and squinted at the uncharacteristic sunlight that streamed in. Peeking out of the window, I could see a pristine blue sky and no clouds in sight. Hopefully it would last.

I caught my reflection on the mirror as soon as I entered the bathroom and paused. My hair was tousled and I had dark circles around my eyes. My upper lip was a bit colourless but the bottom one had an unnatural shade of violet as a reminder of my make out with the Count. A little makeup would disguise it so Diana wouldn’t have more reasons to pick on me. My hands started pulling my hair back so I could brush my teeth without it slipping into the sink but shock paralysed me.

There, on the left side of my neck I had teeth marks imbedded on my skin. If they had been just outlines that would have been fine - I had had one of those before in encounters with previous lovers - but I had punctures this time.

“He bit me,” I spoke to myself, my faint voice echoing in the bathroom.

I leaned towards the mirror to inspect it up close. The skin around the laceration was discoloured and slightly swollen to the touch. There was no blood at all. It couldn’t have been a very deep bite because my body was already making a light scab over the wound.

“What the fuck…”

My brain raced searching for a plausible explanation as I stared at myself. There was none. Anger replaced shock and I grabbed my phone, cycling through the contact list. I silently thanked myself for saving his new number in case I had needed to speak with him regarding his assets. I called three times to no avail. Steam was probably coming out of my ears as I typed a message to him.

YOU FUCKING BIT ME! Expect the police to knock on your door today, you wanker.

All of my hypothesis as to why he had done that involved some sort of mental disorder. Number one, he was just fucking crazy. Number two, he had a fetish for biting people. Number three, he suffered from delusions that he was a vampire. And every other form of variation surrounding that.

I waited a few more minutes for a reply or a call back from him but nothing happened.

I debated whether I should clean the wound or not but if I wanted the police to get DNA so I could get a proper case built against him, it was best I didn’t wash it. Although the wound certainly didn’t look pretty, there was nothing that indicated an infection.

There was a rasp on my back door and then Diana called my name.

“I’m going!” I yelled.

After having used the toilet, brushed my teeth and hair, I dabbed some concealer around my eyes and put on a light shade of lipstick to cover the lip bruise Count Dracula had given me. I changed from my pajamas into an acceptable outfit, which included a red scarf tied around my neck, and went out into the back garden I shared with Diana.

Diana was not only my neighbour but also the world’s nicest landlady. Her house and mine used be conjoined which is why we shared the back yard. Years ago, when Diana’s husband died, she’d decided to separate the two houses again and rent one of them. She was still looking into splitting the garden by placing a wood fence when I moved in. We had grown so close over the years that she had given up on installing a fence and just left it the way it was.

We took turns on making breakfast for each other every Saturday and we usually ate on a picnic table on the covered patio that sat adjacent to Diana’s backdoor. But today, Diana had set the table on the very back of the garden with a parasol shielding a round wooden table and two chairs. The bird fountain on the far left was on and birds were happily singing and chirping as they stood beneath the shooting streams of water.

The blinding sun paired with such a joyous scene made it hard for me to stay mad and I found myself beaming at Diana.

“Good morning!” she cheered.

Diana had her long hair on a plait which gave it a cool effect now that she had stopped dyeing her hair and embraced the silver. That didn’t mean she was fully accepting of aging - she had a fair amount of botox on her forehead and around her eyes. Working as a marketing director for a big cosmetics company for over 20 years will do that to any person. Plus if she looked a day over 40 it wouldn’t exactly be the best marketing strategy.

I was the closest thing to a child to her, well, besides the 5 cats she owned. Ever since Gerard, her husband, died ten odd years ago she hadn’t experimented with dates or lovers because she thought nobody would ever live up to him. And so she lived vicariously through my love escapades.

“Morning!”

I had barely sat down and she was already serving me a plate of spaghetti on creamy mushroom sauce, my favourite of hers. She was about to pour me a glass of white wine but I covered the glass with my hand.

“Hangover?” She winced sympathetically.

“Not the worst one but yes.” I poured myself a glass of water and gulped it down.

“So? Name, age, what does he do, how was he in bed… Go.”

I frowned as I drank the last of my water.

“Hm… I- I don’t think we had sex,” I said.

Diana lowered her fork that had been on the way to her mouth and frowned back.

“You don’t remember?”

“Well, I remember kissing him at my door. And then he-” I touched the scarf absently and put on my courtroom face before my eyes could pop out of my head.

I had blacked out. I had no memory about what had happened after he’d bitten me. I didn’t even remember putting on my pajamas. He could have done way more than just bit me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

“He what?”

“Uh, he gave me a hickey but yeah I don’t remember much after that. Honestly I drank a lot of rum yesterday and I’m having a small case of amnesia right now. I’m sure it will come back to me later.” God, I fucking hoped so.

“But you are not sure if you had sex with him?”

“99% sure I didn’t,” I conceded. “I’d be sore if I had and I’m not.”

“He could have been gentle about it.”

“Trust me, he would not have been gentle.” I forced a laugh.

That got Diana’s attention away from my blackout and she started goading for more information. The rational part of my brain placed itself on autopilot as we had lunch and talked about Count Dracula. For once I was glad about the courtroom face I had acquired over the years and the amount of insensitivity that came with it, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to keep talking without panic taking over.

After Diana was satisfied with all the details I had given her, we moved topics to Judge Llewellyn and the wretched amount of sexism we had both experienced in our lines of work. It was a good outlet for the anger I was feeling towards Dracula.

Two hours later we said our goodbyes and parted with a promise to go grocery shopping together the next day.

Once in the comfort and security of my living room I realised I had lied to Diana about the bite without even noticing I’d done that. If I had, then Diana would insist in taking me to the police station and keeping me company the whole time I was there, which was a very good idea. So why had I lied? She was my friend and with how I was starting to panic, I wanted emotional support.

But there was a tiny part of me that didn’t want anyone else to know about the bite, like it was a private and very intimate thing. As if it was a secret to be kept very safe between Count Dracula and I.

Sitting on my sofa, I flickered my eyes to the front door. I should go to the police station, yes but my body was willing myself to keep sitted and remain there.

My phone beeped and with a glance, I knew I had to stay put.

We’ll talk after sunset.

____________________________________________

The police didn’t go to his home so, he presumed she had not paid them a visit. Or, and that was also very likely, London’s police was terrible at their job. Either way, he was surprised to hear her heartbeat coming from inside the house. He had expected her to flee upon receiving his text and, oh, if she did he would find her. But now that he had gotten acquainted with her scent and marvelous taste, there was no mistake that she was inside the house, waiting for him.

He smiled, pleased that he wouldn’t have to hunt her down across London, and rang the doorbell.

“Come in!” she shouted from the inside.

Black eyebrows shot up on the Count’s forehead. Easy, a little too easy, even.

He turned the doorknob, pushed it open and waited. For what exactly, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps another attempt to capture him by Johnny’s Foundation or a trap by Scotland Yard but there were no other heartbeats coming from the house.

He made his way in, listening attentively for her. There were several photos of her and friends, presumably, on the walls. One of them was with… Hm, what was her name? His tongue rubbed the top of his mouth in an attempt to evoke the memories he had consumed along with her blood. Ah, Diana. Lovely woman. He might have a taste of her, too.

“There you are,” he said upon finding Y/N sitting on the living room.

The room wasn’t particularly big but it served as a library large enough to cause envy on the best of individuals. Vinyl records were set up as decoration on the wall behind the sofa where she was sat. A stone fireplace and the TV broke the overall “vintage” look. It was hardly vintage to him but he had missed several decades that were now considered old to humans.

She looked up at him tiredly and stood up from the sofa, stretching like a cat which caused several of her brones to crack and a moan to erupt from her throat. A corner of his mouth twitched up as a response to the sound.

“Will you give me a second so I can order food? I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

The Count stood there, nonplussed, as she grabbed her phone and started clicking its screen. He expected screaming, a slap to the face or crying, but not this. Not this at all.

For starters, it was unusual that she had remembered having been bitten. Even more unusual that she had been able to sent him a text calling him a “wanker”. On the night before, he had meant to put her under his thrall, much like he had done to Renfield, as an experiment to see if he could bend someone as willful as her. Considering that she had successfully insulted him, it had failed and he was pleasantly surprised with that. After he received that text, he had prepared himself for a scandal.

“Y/N.”

A few more clicks on the screen and she looked up at him, a mix of exhaustion and anger on her eyes.

“I couldn’t move all day, did you know that? Waiting for you. I couldn’t control my body, like a fucking puppet waiting for its master to move the strings.”

“What?”

“If obeying your every command-" she stood on her tiptoes, putting her nose close to his as he instinctively leaned closer "-is part of being a vampire then I don’t bloody want it." Her voice was low, acquiring a tinge of what she probably considered threat.

He couldn’t stop his lips from parting and his eyes from widening. She knew, she knew!

“Oh, how have I underestimated you!” he exclaimed, a grin sprouting in his face.

“Save it, toothy,” she said as she jammed a finger on his chest. “I’m going to have a shower and you’ll wait here so we can talk later.”

“Watch your tongue,” he warned.

He was more amused by her anger than insulted but he wanted to put the spell he had on her to the test. Defiant eyes met his and her upper lip curled, almost like a snarl.

“I will do no such thing,” she enunciated every word carefully with a smug smile.

He held her stare, admired that her insolence had persevered and she had no fear of him. Apparently thinking she’d won, she turned her back on him and left the room.

Dracula barely registered the sounds of her footsteps on the upper floor and the shower running. He was too trapped in thought to take any notice of it.

He sunk down exactly where she had been sitting, an awed smile still in his face. Usually, when he chose a person to feed on and truly enjoy their blood for a longer period of time, a spell took over them so they wouldn’t notice the bites or have any memory of the fact. They would just go about life oblivious to what was happening. It had worked on Johnny and even worked on Agatha, although it only lasted so long on her.

It had not worked at all on Y/N. Except… She had some level of obedience to him. Not the same as Renfield’s, of course, but enough to make her immobile through all afternoon. Still it didn’t make much sense because he hadn’t ordered her to remain still and wait for him but that’s what she had done.

Anticipation grew within him and he almost went up the stairs to question her exactly how she’d pieced together that he was a vampire. Impulsivity nearly got the better of him but the ringing doorbell kept him from bolting upstairs.

Ah, her food was here. He had some reparations to make with her if he wanted her to be as good a bride as Johnny had been, so he stood up from the sofa and went to the door to receive the meal. The paper bag informed him that it was Thai cuisine, which he sadly hadn’t had the opportunity to try yet but in a metropolis like London it shouldn’t be too hard to find Thai blood.

After dismissing the man who had delivered the food, Dracula brought the food to her kitchen where he found plates and cutlery. As she finished her shower and slipped out of the bathroom, he occupied himself with setting up a table on her dining room. After some searching in drawers he found linen napkins and candles. He was finishing lighting the candles placed on the center of the table when she came down the stairs.

She stopped under the arch that led to the dining room and glared at the special decoration. Droplets of water cascaded from her hair and her skin glowed as if she had light stored behind her flesh. She had on an oversized jumper which concealed her shape but her legs were on display. They were a different shade than the rest of her skin, a little light as if they hadn't seen the sunrays in a long time, but that didn’t take away from the beauty of them.

Dracula wondered how they would feel wrapped around him, the feel of her warm skin against his, how she would trap him with those legs while he entered her. The blood running through her veins pumped in anger as he gazed at her. If she’d let him he could feed from a particularly delicious vein on her inner thigh. The thought of it made him hard.

“Stop that,” she said, breaking the trance.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like you are deciding between fucking me or drinking me dry.”

“Why not both?”

She winced as if his words had hurt her.

“Last night… Did we- did you do something else to me?”

Suddenly understanding the pain that had passed her face moments ago, he shook his head.

“No,” he responded firmly. “You were nearly unconscious. After I was done, I waited until you could stand on your own and sent you inside.”

“So you didn’t-?” She gulped and crossed her arms in front of her.

“Rape you?” he completed and she winced again. “No. I would never. Consent is important to me in that matter.”

He didn’t want her to be scared of him and right now, he could smell her fear. Trust, most of all, was what he wanted from her. Perhaps that would be the right ingredient when making a perfect bride. Lucy, whom he’d met just two nights before he met Y/N, trusted in him enough to completely give herself to him, body and mind. Lucy, however, was too… malleable. Y/N’s nearly unbreakable iron-will was admirable and he was certain that because of it she’d be unparalleled as a bride.

Having that consideration in mind, he forced himself to put his good manners aside and, instead of offering her a chair, made his way around the table and took the seat furthest from her. The crease between her eyebrows softened and she nodded to acknowledge his action, sitting down at the head of the table. She opened the food container and carefully tipped it over her plate. The strong smell of spices made his nose tingle and his mouth water - not at the food but at the taste her blood would acquire after she ate it.

“So, enlighten me,” he leaned back, crossing his hands over his chest. “If you know what I am why would you invite me in?”

She raised a finger as she chewed on the food, eyes rolling back in pleasure. He rubbed his fingers together as an attempt to concentrate but she was determined to make it difficult to him, it seemed.

“Quid pro quo, Clarice. You tell me things I tell you things,” she said after swallowing. Seeing the frown on his face, she waved a hand. “Film reference, forget it. But you get the meaning.” He nodded so she would continue but reminded himself to watch a film by the name of Silence of the Lambs, at least that was the title her blood provided. “I had to invite you in. My body told me to.”

“Your body?” He leaned forward, eyebrows raising as he considered it. “How-”

“No,” she interrupted. “My turn. How long do I have?”

“What?”

“Until I start wanting to rip people apart,” she said before taking another bite from her food.

“Oh, that. I didn’t take enough blood to turn you.”

“But you will?”

“Yes.” He smiled.

“Do I have a say in this?”

“No.”He eased himself back to rest on the chair. “You may try to run and hide but I will find you. The outcome will be the same if you don’t run so let’s not make it harder on ourselves, shall we? This will be much more pleasurable if I have your consent.” She stabbed daggers with her eyes and opened her mouth to talk but it was his turn to raise a finger to ask for silence. “You’ve asked too many questions already. Tell me how you came to know what I am.”

“It wasn’t very hard putting it together. You are not exactly discreet,” she said in a snide tone. “At first, I thought you were insane. Although I was stuck playing statue all afternoon, I still had my phone with me and I could move my hands just fine. So I accessed our database, the law firm’s database that is, and searched for your file. I was looking for a criminal file or hospital records.”

She paused to eat some more and Count Dracula once again took a moment to appreciate this decade’s technology. A mobile phone contained a world of information just one click away. If those were around the time of Inquisition, the entire population would be burned for heresy and witchcraft.

“Imagine my surprise upon seeing you have been a client of ours since the 1890s,” she continued. “I thought that was probably a mistake, that maybe an ancestor of yours with the same name had been a client in the past. But I found a black and white photo in the file. Nobody is exactly identical to an ancestor so I was sure it had to be you.” She cleared her throat. “Then it was matter of putting 2 and 2 together… Renfield had said that you are only available after dark, so there was that. And then there was your cold skin, the bite and the apparent immortality. That’s a vampire if I’ve ever met one and, well, now I have.”

“How many people have access to that information?”

“Technically only Renfield. I was his intern when I started at the firm and I know all his passwords. That’s how I gained access...” her mouth fell open. “Is he a vampire, too? Is that why he is the only one permitted to see your files?”

The Count laughed.

“Hardly. He is a servant.”

She glowered at him.

“I don’t serve anyone,” she said in a small voice. “I felt enslaved today while I waited for you, unable to move… Please don’t do that to me.”

He had tried to do that and, though it hadn’t worked, almost regretted trying. He didn’t enjoy seeing her humiliation now or hearing the meekness in her voice. If she was anyone else it could have amused him but what he liked about her was the power and boldness she exuded. Stripping her of those would be like knocking the moon and stars out of the sky. Would anyone admire the night sky if they were not there?

“You are not a servant and you will never be one.” He tilted his head as something occurred him. “Why did you not call the police?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My body wouldn’t obey my commands-” She straightened her shoulders and lowered her eyes for a second before meeting his again. “I didn’t want anybody to know about the bite because part of me knew that you wouldn’t want that.”

“Ah.” He nodded, finally making sense of it. “Loyalty, that was what bound you to me, then. You’re not a servant and you’re not blindly loyal to me as Renfield is, it seems. Wanker, right? That’s the name you called me.” She smiled at that. “It proves you’re not a servant, otherwise you wouldn’t even think such thing. I suspect that you are only bound to the vampire in me, which is why you couldn’t go the police. Your tie to me prevents you from revealing it to other people.”

“Like I signed an NDA where I can’t talk about you being a vampire or anything related to that,” she said, regaining some of the strength on her voice as she made sense of it. “An NDA is something two or more parties sign when-”

“I know what a non-disclosure agreement is,” he interrupted.

“Were those around in your time?” She returned her attention to the food on her plate.

“I don’t think so,” he said. She was taking everything in fairly well. He wondered how much more she would be able to digest in one sitting. “I know what it is because you do. It’s in your blood.”

Alarm made her hand move brusquely and the food on her fork dropped down to her plate.

“What?”

Small doses in the future, he decided.

“We can talk about it later.”

“I want to talk about it now.”

“Too bad.” His smile was taunting. “Are you planning on fleeing?”

She glared at his refusal, defying eyes as ever. He shook his head lightly to indicate that she couldn’t coerce him with that stare. At last, she turned her attention to the food.

“What’s the point if you’ll find me? Besides, I have cases open. I’m not going to abandon my clients when I’m the best chance they’ve got at winning in court.”

The detached manner in which she spoke made him narrow his eyes. She wasn’t lying, he knew that much but humans fled, they always did. Their survival instinct was too strong not to. Count Dracula swirled his tongue inside his mouth, trying to perceive an explanation to her reaction. He got what she called her “courtroom face” but he wasn’t satisfied by it.

“You won’t run away?”

“Now it seems that you want me to. Should I go upstairs and pack a suitcase?”

“Try doing that and you won’t make more than two steps.”

“See,” she stated as she pointed her fork at him. “That’s why there is no point in running. You’ve given me my fate and while I would very much like to dispute it, I know when it’s a losing cause.”

“You disappoint me, dear,” he muttered.

“I said it was a losing cause, not a lost one,” she said, having another bite as a smile grew on her lips. “I’ll make you a deal.”

The Count grinned and leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table. In his experience, it didn't matter how shrewd the deal proposed was, holes were bound to be there. And a deal coming from a lawyer should be exciting.

“Go on.”

“You’ll give me time to conclude my pending cases and in the meantime I won’t take new ones. I assume I won’t be able to practise law after I’m a vampire and I don’t want to leave loose ends behind.”

“Done.”

“I’m not done. I want to listen and learn from you. Convince me immortality is worth it from your years of experience and I’ll consent to you drinking my blood. Until then, you keep your fangs to yourself.” She paused to give him a moment to protest but he remained quiet. “You’ll only turn me when I tell you to. I die on my terms.”

She set her cutlery down, placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands.

“And if I can’t convince you that immortality is worth it?” He asked her.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“When? " He chuckled. "Isn’t it arrogant to think you’ve won already?”

“I wouldn’t be a good lawyer if I wasn’t a little arrogant.” She gave him a cheeky smile. “Have we got a deal?”

Her self-assuredness was back, squaring her shoulders and making her eyes gleam. In spite of his suspicion over the deal, it made him grin.

Jack Seward’s stolen phone rang and the Count retrieved it from his pocket to see Lucy’s face lighting up the screen. He spared Y/N a glance and caught the look of confusion on her face upon noticing that that was clearly not the phone she’d given him.

Dracula ignored the call and not one second later he received a text from Lucy.

R u skipping dinner 2nite?

Therein lied the difference between Y/N and her. Lucy did not care about anything at all except the unfathomable desire to destroy herself by any means possible. She was in love with death long before they met. Count Dracula hadn’t fully grasped Y/N intentions with that deal but he knew it had nothing to do with a desire to die. She had a practical sense to go about life, he’d noticed it when she expressed that it didn’t matter whether she was afraid to die or not. A deal was a testament to that.

“I’m afraid I must go,” he said as he typed a message for Lucy.

He stood up and put away his phone. Y/N tipped her head back to look at him expectantly.

“Are you declining the deal?”

“No.” He stopped next to her. “I thought we could seal it with a kiss.”

She had a second to widen her eyes before he bent down and claimed her lips. A warm hand rested on his cheek instead of pushing him away and she opened her mouth to greet him access, even if for a second. She drew back breathlessly and gazed into his eyes.

“Done,” she said softly.

And then he was gone in a blur.

Taglist: @festering-queen @girlonfireice @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @thorin-smokin-shield @hoefordarkness @dreamer2381

So sorry if I forgot to tag anyone

#dracula fanfic #dracula 2020 #dracula netflix #dracula bbc #dracula fanfiction #claes bang #claes bang fanfiction #vampire fanfiction #vampire fanfix #dracula x reader #distorted lullabies

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 5 years ago

Note

Single Mom AU: (is hopefully completely different from the single father AU) Blake is a single mother that just got divorced from her abusive ex-husband, Adam. Her and her son move to the new town of Argus and they meet the owner of a local hole in the wall restaurant named Jaune.

Sure! It’s Blake’s turn to have some spotlight in an AU. This one can maybe focus more on Blake and her son rather than Jaune.

AU accepted!

Blake had done it. She was free from the monster. She’d wanted to leave him for over a year, but she’d been too afraid. That was until he struck their five year old son Kilo. For no reason other than SHE hadn’t been their for him to hit after he got angry…

She started the divorce process months ago, something Adam hadn’t been exactly happy about. Now it was finally over. Her and Kilo were now in Argus, far away from Adam now.

They were safe now.

…

And also broke.

…

While Adam may have been an abusive monster to them, he was also their only source of income. Blake was the stay at home mom for Kilo and Adam worked to support all of them.

She had managed to stow away quite a bit of funds after she first realized her wish to leave him. She was scared, but she wanted to be ready in case she ever got the chance to get her wish. Adam smugly signed the divorce papers, thinking that Blake would just come crawling back after she realized she didn’t have the money to support herself. Especially when she also had their kid, which is how she got full custody. He thought Blake was dependent on him both financially and mentally.

Well he was wrong. The same day Adam signed the papers, Blake grabbed Kilo, all their personal belongings that Blake could fit into two suit cases and a duffel bag, her stashed funds, and bought two tickets as far away as she could.

In hindsight, that was a very poor decision. Just the tickets almost depleted all of the money Blake had saved. Then she had to pay for a hotel room for a few days since she had no living plans and food to sneak into the hotel room to eat. They weren’t big meals, snacks more than anything, but they were better than nothing.

It had been three days now. Each day Blake went out to hunt for a job, Kilo having to go with her as she searched all around Argus. She couldn’t get one. Wherever she went, either they were not hiring, they were too far away, or she didn’t have the skills for the position.

She tried not to consider the thought that they turned her away because she was a faunus.

Either way, three days passed with no luck, and Kilo asked if they could go to the park instead of walk around again. Blake looked to her son and his pleading eyes. Her poor boy had been put through the ringer the last few days, he deserved a break. So Blake relented.

The went and spent the whole afternoon in the park. He played on the playground, climbed a tree (much to high for Blake’s liking), and they rested under a tree together while Blake read a story to him. It was only when the sun started to set that Blake realized how much time had passed. So she took her son’s little hand and started to head back to the hotel.

As they walked towards the front entrance to the hotel, they passed by a restaurant. Kilo tugged on her arm. “Hey Mommy! Mommy! Can we get some food please!?”

Blake looked to where her son was pointing. The restaurant was named Jaune’s. It didn’t look very expensive. However, Blake didn’t want to spend any more money than necessary. She looked down to tell her soon no, but her traitorous stomach growled. It wasn’t her fault the snacks she’d brought to the park weren’t very filling…

Regardless, Blake followed her son as excitedly ran towards the door to Jaune’s. As it was late, the place wasn’t very busy. It was also probably close to closing for them. Luckily for them it meant that they got a booth all to themselves.

Her son happily doodle away on his kids menu with the crayons that came with it. He asked their waitress very politely if he could have the crispy chicken fingers and fries. Blake ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, a grilled chicken sandwich with cheese, lettuce, and mayo. Blake also got a vanilla milkshake for the both of them, much to the joy of Kilo.

The meal was good. Great actually. It also helped that the food was relatively cheap, cheaper than what the delicious food could have been charged for. It cost nothing like the dinners that A-….Adam took them to…

They eat in relative silence, only talking briefly in between bites. Though they took their time, enjoying the peacefulness of the meal as the last of the patrons around them left, leaving them as the only customers left. When they were all done and the trays were taken away, Blake had to face the part of the dinner she was dreading. Paying the bill.

‘O-okay…. 22 Lien…..not that much at all… Maybe I just won’t leave a tip…. I don’t like it bu-…oh no…’ While Blake stared at the check, she had pulled out her wallet and opened it.

She didn’t have enough. The 20 Lien card she thought she had was actually a 10…she only had 15.

“K-Kilo sweetie, can you wait right here for a minute? Mommy will be right back okay?”

“Okay Mommy.”

Blake left her son sitting in their booth as she walked up to her waitress, a young blonde girl named Sara. “E-excuse me…I h-have a small problem.”

The kind girl looked at her with a smile. “What is it ma’am? Did you want something brought to your table. Or was something wrong with your meal?”

“N-no no. Nothing any of you did wrong. I-it’s just that I….don’t have enough money to pay for our meal…”

“The waitress’s smile faltered, but she kept it up, though it was much weaker. “O-oh. I-I’m not…uh sure what uhhhh…. I-I’ll go get my boss. Please,” She put a lot of emphasis on the please there, “Wait here.”

The girl quickly hurried to the back of the restaurant and disappeared as she walked into the kitchen. A minute later, she came back into the view. With her came a tall blonde man whose was taking off an apron. The waitress pointed to Blake from the kitchen doorway and the man said something to her before walking out of the kitchen and over to Blake nervously fidgeting form.

As he approached, Blake saw just how much taller than her he was, by almost a full foot! Though when he spoke, his voice wasn’t angry or annoyed. It was pleasant, if only a little curious. “Hello, I heard you had an issue with the check?”

“N-not with the check itself… I just don’t have enough Lien to cover it.”

“Oh. Well, how much was the check?”

“U-uhhh…22 Lien….I only have 15. I-I have more, b-back in our hotel room….but no wait, I need that to pay for the room! I-I can pay you back once I get a job, though I don’t know w-when that’ll be. I’ll pay you back I promise, j-just p-p-”

The man’s eyes widen as he watched as the woman in front of him started to breathe heavily and frantically while she rambled on. It even looked like tears were about to start falling.

“I’ll pay you back I promise, j-just p-p-please don’t call the police. I-I’ll-” A hand on her shoulder snapped the brunette faunus down out of her panic.

She noticed the tall man looking down to meet her eyes. “Woah woah woah. Please calm down ma’am.”

Blake took a shaky breath and rubbed the build up of tears from her eyes. “I’m s-sorry. I’ve never done this before. I’m not doing this on purpose I swear!”

“And I believe you. Unless you just one heck of an actress, no one would be this upset over being 7 Lien short on a check. Something tells me that more to this….so I’ll make you a deal.”

“A….a deal?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t make sense to call the cops over 7 Lien, so I won’t. I’ll cover the bill for you, but only if you tell me what’s got you so upset.”

Blake blinked at the man “W-what? Why?”

“Why cover the tab or why do I want to know why you’re upset? For the first one it’s only 7 Lien and for the second, I don’t like seeing people upset, especially in here. This is a place where people come to have good food, chat with friends, and to forget about their troubles for a little bit. So, do we have a deal?”

Blake glanced back over to her son in the booth. He’d gotten up to moved to the other side where she’d but her belongings on the bench and had pulled out the book from earlier and started flipping through it without a care in the world. She wasn’t sure she should be so trusting of this stranger, but he seemed to be very kind and understanding. The air he carried around him seemed, almost comforting...

She looked back to the tall man and nodded. “Yes. Thank you. Can we do it over there so my son isn’t left alone?”

He smiled warmly and nodded himself. “Of course. By the way, Sara said he was a really polite boy too.”

“O-oh...thank you.”

Blake walked with the man back over to the booth. Kilo kept looking at his book even as she slid into the booth. He definitely was her son. “Kilo?”

He finally looked back up, looking slightly surprised that she returned, and definitely surprised to see the new man stand at the end of their table. “Yes Mommy?”

She gestured to the tall blonde man. “This is.....ummm I’m sorry sir, but I don’t even know your name.”

The tall man blinked owlishly at her, then he started to chuckle nervously and scratched the back of his head, a light dusting of red spread across his cheeks and nose. “Oh haha, yeah I guess I never told you my name huh? Hehe.” He dropped the hand from his neck and offered his other one out to her. “M-my name is Jaune Arc, short, sweet, rolls of the tongue, the ladies love it.”

#rwby #blake belladonna #jaune arc #jaune x blake #knightshade #single mom blake au #au suggestion #ask #sfw #anonymous

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years ago

Text

Love Me Roughly: House Hunting

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,220

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus meets up with the wizard in charge of finding him a place to live. He manages to strike up a deal and purchases his new home.

A/N: This is part 3 of 7 for the week 1 schedule for Snape Appreciation Month! @snapeloveposts

DISCLAIMER: I have edited (drawn over the original) the artwork (taken from a 80′s bodice ripper novel) for the purpose of this short series and will post more information about the original work here.

Posted: 6/3/20

Chapter List

<– Last Chapter Next Chapter –>

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus left his motel room, locking the door and placing the key firmly in his pocket. He picked the dog up and walked out of the parking lot, turning a corner, and heading along the outer wall to the back. He figured the center was where he was standing and started walking into the forest, counting out seventeen steps before stopping.

The woods surrounded him shielded most of the sun and made the forest seem eerie. The little dog started squirming so he set it down on some fallen leaves, watching as he shook his fur out and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him to behind a large tree.

He heard rustling and then a very familiar witch walked out form behind, carrying the dog. She wore an open cloak with three buttons clumped at the top and a hood covering most of her hair, and yet, there was no mistaking who she was.

The woman from the airport walked closer and pulled her hood down, “I never would have guessed.”

“Not exactly a compliment,” Severus looked down at the dog, “Do you always make a habit of leaving your animals unattended?”

The woman laughed, “He makes sure our clients are here on time… and also that it isn’t a Ministry trap.”

He looked down at the dog in her arms, somehow doubting this particular one was very good at his job. He approached with caution and stuck out his arm, wanting to get a move on with house hunting. She took it and immediately apparated them out of the forest.

Severus heard a thump and opened his eyes, looking around at the wooden log walls and dark oak floorboards. They stood in the open kitchen of a small log cabin, a lounging area to the left and spiraling stairs directly behind them.

She set the dog down, “This is one of the simpler houses we have available to wizards here. During the winter, the snow mounds for miles and the trees offer much privacy.” She motioned to the stairs, “And the whole of it is so small that it’s easy to set up heating charms in every inch with ease.”

He walked behind the spiral stairs and opened the door to the laundry with a toilet and sink inside. He continued up the stairs to a corridor with three rooms. The first on the left looked to be the master bedroom with a large closet. The second was a smaller bedroom, A study perhaps, right across the way of the second bathroom.

He walked back downstairs and eyed the kitchen and connected room, finding it all surprisingly agreeable. “So, what is near?”

“Well, a short hike down is a corner store and your closest neighbor. A short hike up is a cliff,” she smiled.

He chuckled, these wizards really do know the business. He’d always heard of how well of a job they did, placing would-be convicts, escapees, and celebrities in the perfect homes for their situation. He suspected it had more to do with prior knowledge of the unsuspecting client, however. I always wondered where all the supposed diviners went. Even before the first wizarding war less and less were being found, though rumor had it they were being discovered for other, more appreciated, jobs.

“Well, I think you already know I approve of it.”

She dropped a folded paper on the low wooden dining table for him to take. He opened it and read out the price of the little log cabin.

“Really,” he sneered. “For maybe one twice the size of this one.”

She rolled her eyes, “You expect a well-built cabin, hidden from the noses of the Ministry, requiring no proof of wizard registration or mention of you on any documents for any less?” She laughed and picked up her dog, who had been lying peacefully next to the heater, and extended her elbow for him to take. “Why don’t we find you one worth the money you will have to pay, then?”

He scoffed, “Enough with the theatrics. Is there no discount?”

“Discount? For what? Looking cute?” she winked.

Severus swallowed and looked away quickly, raking his hair forward, “I’m sure the discount for that would be quite pitiful.”

The floorboards creaked under her shoes as she crept forward, “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. I’d give you ten percent off for your eyes alone.”

Severus turned to her, suddenly feeling the air very hot between them. Without thinking he opened his mouth, “And what else is… worthy… of a discount?”

She smiled and came closer still, “Hmm. Ten for those lips, and twenty for that incredible nose of yours.”

His hand went straight to cover his nose as her words replayed in his head, “Very funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” she stepped back glancing at the paper in his hands, “It’s my final offer.”

He looked at her confused, waiting for any clarification but none came.

He nodded, “Deal.”

She snapped her fingers and the numbers on the paper changed to a much more affordable price, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, for the money and to give you the keys.”

She apparated away and he was left alone in the house he would have to make his home now. He smiled to himself at their exchange. His heart wasn’t racing or thumping loudly, it was calm. He wasn’t ‘lusting’ after her like how his book described… but he did find guilty amusement in the fact she had indeed flirted with him. And he flirted back… something that, surprisingly, gave him enough joy to make him smile still, minutes after she had left.

His stomach growled and he remembered what time it was. He summoned his packed trunk and took out the food from it. He made himself a simple sandwich and placed the rest in the small fridge. He noticed the light did not turn on and figured there was no electricity yet.

He shrugged and charmed the fridge with a chilling spell and the freezer twice with the same one. That’ll do for now. He sat at the table and looked around at all the windows, watching the green trees sway with the wind and the occasional bird fly by.

He didn’t want to unpack just yet, not until everything was finalized, but there was one thing he could do. He took out his book from his muggle coat pocket and opened it back up, slouching over the table. He bit into his food and turned the page.

‘Robin turned from Stephano’s outstretched hand, not wanting to believe what his manly lips were saying. How could she believe a man that large, kind, muscly, handsome, and manly wanted such a small, dainty, soft, beautiful, girl like her?’

Severus rubbed his eyes and looked up, surprised to see the sun had set already and it was dark out. He locked the back door with a spell and walked over to the front door, doing the same. He dragged his luggage up the stairs and set it at the foot of the master bedroom’s large bed.

It was dark and he could barely see, cursing himself for not bringing candles. I had so many! Why didn’t I pack them? He imagined them al melted on the floor of his old home. I should have brought my scented ones at least. He fumbled for his night shirt in the dark and changed out of his clothes, unbuttoning everything slowly. He slid one arm in after the next and pulled the night shirt down. He took out his wand and cast Lumos to inspect the quality of the sheets.

They looked fine, recently cleaned even. He shrugged and set the wand down on the floor, hopping into bed and pulling the covers up. It was cold, but nothing compared to the dungeons during the winter. He turned and tried not to think of anything. Not tonight.

. . .

“Mmm, Stop it!” He lifted the hand that had fallen out of bed and was swinging low enough for the puny dog to lick. “Why must you do this? Hmm?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window at the bright blue sky and large green trees. He wasn’t sure of the time, but knew that woman was already here, unleashing her dog onto him. He picked up his wand and cast Nox, extinguishing the light.

He pushed the dog out of the bedroom door and closed it, changing behind the bed and away from the window. He combed through his hair with his hands, wiping them on his coat, and made his way down the spiral stairs. She wasn’t in the kitchen so he turned his head and leaned forward, looking into the living room where she sat on the floor, reading –

“That’s not mine!”

She looked up, laughing, “Oh isn’t it?”

Severus ran into the room, stopping himself suddenly and composed himself. “Of course not… some-someone gave it to me and – ”

“So… it is yours, then.”

“No. It’s not, because I don’t want it. I was going to throw it away,” he coughed and looked away. There was a mirror hanging on the wall and he saw his face was a deep red. He turned his back to her and walked into the kitchen, arms folded.

Stupid! Absolute idiot! How could I leave it there? The cover alone has an image of a near naked woman in the arms of a shirtless man! …And it’s pink! He breathed out to calm himself, No matter. She will be gone forever in a few minutes.

She walked in behind him and set the book on the counter, giggling quietly, “It’s alright if you’re reading it. It seems interesting enough – and quite steamy.”

“No! No, I-I… Here is your money,” he extended his hand and summoned the bag of Galleons he had prepared for her.

She took it. “Well… Here is your key.”

He took the key without looking and put it in his pocket.

“Your water will start running soon… First month is free… after that you’ll need to pay us at the start.”

Severus nodded stiffly but the woman did not leave, “Yes?”

“About our conversation yesterday… I believe I called you cute and complimented your lips.”

He looked at her finally, and noticed she was biting her lip. He didn’t need to use Legilimence to know what she was thinking… and Merlin knows he was now thinking the same thing, though he didn’t believe he could pull it off in the least. He straightened and walked closer, excited to start the conversation up again.

“I do remember. I believe you also complimented my eyes,” he smiled.

“Who wouldn’t?” she stepped closer and touched the black cloth tucked under his shirt, “I love the patterns on your cravat.”

Severus watched her smooth actions, smiling. It had been a while since he had flirted with anyone, let alone had someone so willingly participate. The last time was surely before the Dark Lord’s return and as far as he remembered, it hadn’t gone so well, not on his part.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He chuckled nervously, “Forgive me, I-I don’t really know how these things go…”

“Then perhaps you’ll allow me to lead?”

She came closer, forcing him to step back against the wood walls of the kitchen. He couldn’t help feeling so giddy, he wasn’t sure why. He supposed because for the first time he didn’t have to worry about anything else getting in the way of… whatever she allowed to happen.

He leaned his head down and brought his lips to her ear, “I would like that.”

He pulled back and he could see a new fire in her eyes and a mischievous twinkle too. He lowered his head only to have her immediately attack his lips with hers, tangling her hands in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her for a few intense seconds before pulling her away and leading her up the stairs – to his surprise she was following.

It was broad daylight but that hardly seemed to matter, not to him and by the looks of it, not to her. The second they reached his room they continued their intimate embrace, slowly inching closer to the bed. The second their legs touched the mattress they pulled apart and began to undress.

He undid button after button as fast as he could while watching her and the little show she was obviously putting on for him, making him blush. She got undressed and jumped on the bed, watching as he shed layer after layer. He left his wand in the kitchen or he would have used his unbuttoning spell already, but by the look on her face she was enjoying every second of it which made him want her even more.

“Are you sure?” his voice was deep and he could hear his own excitement in it.

She reached out and touched his skin, making it feel hot and electric where she stroked. She stood on the bed and pulled him in by his shoulders and kissed him again, humming and smiling. He touched her skin and felt it smooth and silky, warm, much like herself.

“Extremely,” she giggled.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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medeafive · 4 years ago

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Blood and Stone - 20

Masterpost

"I don't like this," Bruce mutters. "Your blood pressure dropped again. Blood sugar probably as well."

Natasha groans, mouth full. "Come on! I'm eating all the goddamn time!"

"Looks like that's not enough," Bruce replies, unwrapping the thing from her arm. "I'll give you the blood transfusion and… more vampire blood again, I guess. God, I wish Bobbi were here already."

"Is it so bad?" Natasha asks.

Bruce gets the clipboard. "We tracked your calorie intake and if you're at more than double the normal, without burning any because you're just lying around, and you're still low on nutrients… that's very bad."

"Speaking of," Natasha remarks. "I really need to pee."

"Only now?" Bruce frowns. "When was the last time- oh, forget it."

Natasha snorts. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Could you unplug me for a second or do I have to drag that around the whole fucking time?"

"Oh, definitely not," Bruce returns. "The former. Do you know how many bacteria that could introduce-"

Natasha groans.

"Just let Bobbi take care of it," Pepper encourages. "She'll be here soon and then it'll all be fine."

"Last time you gave her vampire blood, her heart stopped," Clint remarks sourly.

"She was doing way worse last time, though," Sam points out quietly, not looking her way. "Before."

"I don't want it to get back to that," Bruce mutters, sinking the needle into her arm. "So I'd rather do it now."

"Oxygen is fine?" Fury asks.

"You know what, I didn't even worry about that," Bruce says. "Should be fine. Or do you feel like you're not getting enough air?"

Natasha shakes her head. "Feels okay. The air quality in here is not the best, though, is it?"

Tony snorts. "Yeah, this room was never meant for this many people."

"You mean, because you all stand around all the time?" Natasha remarks.

"You really appreciate us, don't you," Clint returns.

"No, of course I do," she replies. "Just, you know, it's not really helping…?"

The door upstairs slams shut. Pepper jumps up. "Oh, that must be Bobbi. I'll go get her."

Sharon giggles, slipping off a table. "Wait for me! I really wanna meet her."

"Wow, Clint," Tony remarks. "You look thrilled."

"Fuck off," Clint counters. "Guess I should just go. Not like I'm needed here anyway."

Bruce breathes out deeply. "Oh, man, finally. Uh, Nat, if she says I fucked up, I'm sorry."

"Aw, come on, you definitely didn't fuck up," Natasha replies. "I'm totally alright. You did everything you could."

"So, the vampire blood," Tony remarks curiously. "How's that feel? Your arm? Burn or anything?"

Natasha raises her left arm, studying it. "Not really. It feels a little… empty? It's not spectacular, really."

"That's disappointing," Tony decides. "I was hoping for more insight into life and death and the great beyond. But then again, this guy doesn't know shit either."

She's not sure James listens to any of them, he certainly doesn't react. Clint, despite his announcement, still hasn't moved an inch. She shakes her head. "Yeah, sorry. I got nothing."

"Eh, it's fine," Tony replies. "Do y'all ever wonder what women talk about all the time? Cause I do."

Sam snorts. "All the time, yeah? The two minutes since Bobbi arrived, after they haven't seen each other in two years?"

"Sharon doesn't even know her," Tony points out. "And still they flock together instantly. There's something there and I don't understand it."

"Something being the refreshing absence of any kind of machismo?" Natasha suggests.

Tony snorts. "Come on, you don't get it either. You're not in that circle, you're not - you're not that kind of woman."

Somehow, that really stings. "What kind?"

Tony rolls his eyes. "Come on, you know what I mean. The woman kind. The womanly kind of woman."

She's about ready to throw something at him when the door opens and Pepper and Sharon come back, with them a tall blonde woman Natasha's never seen before. Sam gets up, grinning, and hugs her. Clint clears his throat, looking down.

"Ah, long time no see," Bobbi sighs. "You look good."

"You too," Sam replies. "Is it possible you've grown even taller?"

Bobbi snorts, letting go and slapping his shoulder. "Shut up. Hey Fury. Tones, how ya doin'?"

"Excellent," Tony replies. "Nobody listens to me, but other than that, excellent."

"So nothing new there," Bobbi remarks. "Hi Clint. Sorry I didn't call."

"That's alright," Clint replies, though he doesn't look alright with it. "How's Italy?"

"Well, the weather is great," Bobbi points out. "You know, it's got flair, hunting vampires through Florence."

"Oh, we're not talking about that sort of thing anymore," Tony remarks. "Since, ya know, we got a guest."

Bobbi's eyes flit over to where James is standing, practically immobile. "Oh yeah. Fury said."

"Uh, I put all the information together here," Bruce remarks, holding up a thick folder. "I hope that's all."

Bobbi rushes over to hug him. "Oh, hey Brucey! Sorry, didn't mean to leave you out."

Bruce blushes, tentatively hugging her back. "Uh, no problem. It's fine. Hey."

Bobbi snorts, pulling back. "Oh man, you haven't changed at all. Okay, now I got everybody, right? Just making sure."

"Unless you wanna hug the vampire," Tony suggests. "Not sure I'd recommend. Haven't tried, either."

James bares his fangs before catching himself. Bobbi stares at him, eyes narrowing, like a cat about to pounce. "Yeah, so, I'm Natasha," she interjects. "Which you probably already know. And… uh, that is James. Doesn't bite."

Tony snorts. "You know what, that was one of your better jokes."

"Yeah, okay, let's get to it," Bobbi replies, dragging a chair next to Natasha's bed and opening the folder. "Well, let's see… Y'all should probably get out."

"What are you going to do?" James asks quietly.

"I'm going to discuss that with her," Bobbi replies evenly, though the tension in her shoulders betrays her. "No offense."

"And you're a doctor?" James questions.

"Gynecologist," Bobbi explains impatiently. "Formerly. Don't worry about it."

James evidently worries very much about it. "Just want to get it right. You're a hunter as well? And you were here before Natalia?"

"Until about two years ago," Bobbi confirms. "Yeah."

"And you were with Barton before he was with Natalia?" James questions.

"Before he was what ?!" Bobbi interrupts.

"Oh, I thought you… knew," James remarks uselessly. Natasha groans.

"I fucking knew it," Tony jumps in. "So you were just lying the whole time-"

"It was one motherfucking time!" Clint defends. "One! Do we really have to-"

"Wow," Bobbi remarks, rubbing her eyes. "That's really fucking low, Clint."

"You were gone," Clint spits out. "I don't owe you-"

"Why does the vampire know all the interesting stuff?" Tony asks.

"Wait, you two had a- a thing?" Pepper pulls a face. "Urgh."

"Come on," Natasha tries. "It's really not a big deal."

"That was almost two years ago-" Clint adds.

"Oh, so right after I'm gone, you screw the-" Bobbi hisses. "Come on! Is she even 21 yet?!"

"24," Natasha remarks sourly.

"Oh yeah?" Clint asks sourly. "So what have you been up to, since-"

"Come on," Pepper interjects. "It's not about her! I just find that really- oh, come on."

"I hope you're not talking about screwing colleagues," Tony remarks. "Cause I got news on that, cupcake."

"That's very different," Pepper rejects. "Just the- Bobbi was here for years, you were together for years, and then you turn around and this girl you barely know- Urgh."

"Okay, you know what, let's postpone that," Bobbi interrupts. "Work to do. Everyone except Natasha out. And don't you think you're in the clear, you're absolutely not."

"You're not my fucking boss," Clint remarks coldly before striding out, slamming the door.

"Well, Natasha," Tony comments. "Looks like we learn something new about you every day."

"Leave her the fuck alone," James hisses.

"Okay, okay, we really should get out," Sam puts in. "Let Bobbi do her job."

"Yes please," Bobbi mutters, thumbing through the folder.

They slowly stream out, one by one, even James. Bobbi keeps going through the folder. Natasha doesn't really dare make a sound. "Bobbi?"

"Hm?"

"Are you mad?"

Bobbi smiles without looking up. "At you? No. I mean, you never even met me. From Clint's part, though, that's very midlife crisis."

Natasha sighs. "Really wasn't a big thing. Just tried it out, you know, and agreed it wasn't right for us."

"I don't want him back," Bobbi states. "I'm not jealous. It's just… disrespectful of what we had, I guess."

"So is it true?" Natasha asks. "You got a new guy?"

Bobbi snorts. "Oh yeah. Not sure about it, though. He's… pretty much like Clint, except he doesn't expect us to have a family. So that's an advantage. Wait, Bruce did an endovaginal scan on you?"

Natasha closes her eyes. "Yeah. Though Sam did the… you know, the fingers up my vagina part."

"Not sure that couldn't have waited a couple of days, but okay," Bobbi remarks. "Good to have it. So, Fury said you want to keep the baby."

Natasha hesitates. "I'm… not so sure about that anymore."

"Well, I'll take a look myself then," Bobbi suggests. "If you even can have it."

Bobbi does every check imaginable, or so it seems, and somehow none of it is a big deal. Just routine. Couple of moments and then it's done. "So, you really like the vampire, huh?" she asks absentmindedly.

Natasha sighs. "I don't know. It was never meant to be… this serious, you know."

"Does he want you to have it?" Bobbi adds.

"Absolutely not," Natasha replies. "To the effect that he can't be a good father. I don't think it… means anything to him, other than a danger to my life."

"I mean, you don't need him," Bobbi remarks, taking notes. "He's out now. The rest is between you and God. If you're into that."

Natasha snorts. "Right. That."

Bobbi drops the pen, looking up. "Seriously, did he ever try to kill you? Suck your blood?"

"No," Natasha replies quickly. "No. Never. Not even in the very beginning, really."

Bobbi frowns. "And the... bite wound on your shoulder… is…?"

Fuck, she totally forgot about that. "That's… not that. Very recent."

"Sexual," Bobbi states.

"Sort of," Natasha allows. "I don't know, it just… it wasn't a thing, it just… sorta happened. Kinda weird."

"That's probably worse," Bobbi remarks.

"I trust him," Natasha defends. "It wasn't… I don't want to go into it but… it wasn't that. He wasn't trying to turn me, or drink me. Just- dominance. Sexual. Just don't read into it."

Bobbi raises an eyebrow and goes back to her notes. "Okay. Your call. Just, you can tell me. I'm not here to judge."

"No, I can tell you are," Natasha replies. "Even if you try. I'm good, really. That's not the issue. The issue is, well, this."

Bobbi snorts softly. "I'll tell you in a second. Really, though… how did this happen? Not the magic regrowing of your uterus, that's a different can of worms, just… this."

"I don't know," Natasha repeats. "I wasn't looking for this. Just… I never even realized how awkward I felt around everyone else, like I… Over the years as a hunter, I developed this really dark side and… he just understood that and I could just tell him about- stuff I did, that I didn't really like what I was turning into without having to hide- and I understood that he's also trying, that he's captive, that we're quite alike in- I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

"So you like him as a person," Bobbi remarks.

"Yeah," Natasha agrees. "What else?"

"Vampires were always a sexual fantasy," Bobbi replies. "And there's still plenty of would-be monster fuckers out there, believe it or not."

Natasha snorts. "Look, the vampire thing is- a little disgusting, sometimes, frankly, mostly very useful in a fight and… I like him despite it, I guess."

"Okay, I have a last question that I don't usually ask." Bobbi closes the folder, crossing her arms over it. "You need to pinpoint exactly when you conceived, or when you could have conceived. I need to know how long it took to get this big."

"I don't know," Natasha replies. "You got the end of my last period, in there, and-"

"26 days ago," Bobbi replies. "Yes. Every single time you had unprotected sex with him after that."

So all the times. "Look, none of this should have ever been possible-"

"I know," Bobbi interrupts. "It's not about judgement. The thing is, you have a foetus of over 20 weeks in your belly and it matters a great deal whether it grew into that over 25 days or 15 days."

20 weeks. It's a lot scarier when Bobbi says it, rather than Bruce. "I guess… right after. 25 days or so. Then two days after that and… when I killed the black cloak, I guess, though I'm not sure that- wait, I remember the black cloak said I smelled weird. James too. Is it possible they could smell that I was pregnant?"

"Hormonal change, definitely," Bobbi replies. "Ask him sometime whether pregnant women smell special to him. So, to sum up, right after your period, not very likely, you wouldn't be very fertile. Two days after that, still early but possible, especially if your hormones were off. Now, before you killed the black cloak, you injected a lot of vampire blood, right?"

"Right."

"Which is what you take now to keep up with the massive growth of the baby," Bobbi remarks. "Sorry, foetus. So you wouldn't have noticed adverse pregnancy effects until after, which is exactly what happened. That plus the smell. If you conceived about 23 days ago, a week's worth of normal foetus growth would happen in about a day for you."

"And that would mean…"

"That would mean you'd give birth in about two weeks," Bobbi concludes. "I mean, if you decide to. That's up to you."

"But I could?"

"It looks remarkably good, all things considered," Bobbi states. "Your body adjusted well to the current size of the foetus. I can't see anything that would prevent you from having a regular pregnancy, at least right now. Now, there are some caveats."

"I'm listening." Natasha sits up slightly.

"First thing, I cannot make any guarantees for the next two weeks," Bobbi starts. "It looks normal right now but that could change any day. So really can't promise you'll get to carry this to term, or what comes out then. Second thing, I'm absolutely morally okay with aborting up to the day of birth in this case. It's gonna be messy, given the size and possible complications, but if it's necessary, I'll absolutely do it. And I want you to consent to that right now, in case the complications are so severe you wouldn't be conscious. Is that okay with you?"

"You mean, if it's literally killing me?" Natasha asks.

"That," Bobbi confirms. "Or posing a severe risk to your health. This is already pretty risky, of course, but you get the idea."

"Okay," Natasha remarks. "If you're not opposed in principle to me having it… I trust you."

"Thank you." Bobbi opens the folder again. "Now, third thing… you injected a lot of vampire blood already and you're probably going to need more over the next two weeks. I'm really not an expert on that, better ask Bruce, but… it's gonna have long-term consequences. I have no idea which but this will affect your body somehow. Maybe it will weaken your bones, lead to organ failure, increased risk of stroke, cancer, impact your auto-immune system, who knows, really, but something's going to happen. Now, Fury said the Red Skull is hunting you, so your life expectancy is not that high anyway, but if you live for a few more years or decades, there'll be consequences. Do you understand that?"

"I'm already in for that, right?" Natasha shakes her head. "I stopped thinking about the long term long ago."

"Haven't we all," Bobbi mutters. "Okay, one more thing… maybe Bruce already told you."

"What?"

"Your ovaries look really bad," Bobbi states. "You already had damage to them, according to Bruce's notes, but they've shrunk even more. I can't predict it with certainty but it is very likely you will go into menopause right after this, never have your period again, never have another child. I'd assume that factors into your decision."

Natasha swallows. "So this… window I never thought would open just opened, and if I don't jump through right now, it's gone again. This is the only shot."

"The only shot for biologically having your own child," Bobbi specifies. "There's always the possibility for adoption, so you shouldn't feel too pressured by that. Just laying it all out."

Natasha snorts, letting her head drop back, eyes towards the concrete ceiling. "I feel pretty pressured, though."

"Sorry, but in the end, it's your choice," Bobbi replies. "I won't object from a medical standpoint if you decide to continue, at least right now. It may be dumb but this desire to procreate, to have your own child is deeply ingrained. I'd understand if you want to continue, and I'd understand if you don't."

"Let's assume I change my mind in a few days," Natasha suggests. "Would you… even if there's no medical emergency, would you still… do the abortion?"

"Absolutely," Bobbi replies without hesitation. "Told you. This is a vampire baby, so all rules and procedures are off. Also, you've known you're pregnant for a couple of days now, that would be ridiculous."

"If I decide to continue, I can change my mind later," Natasha sums up. "And if I decide not to, I can't."

"Really can't put it back in, no," Bobbi confirms with a grin. "So yeah. If you've got a real interest in having this child and you're willing to take the risk, it makes most sense to wait and see how it goes. Then you can also talk it over with, you know, whoever you want to talk it over with."

"I think… talking to you…" Natasha shakes her head. "I think that already helped me a lot."

"That's part of my job," Bobbi replies, pushing her chair back. "Or it used to be, before. Okay, then I'll go and tell the others you're keeping it for now, and then I'll probably go to sleep. Had a long drive. But I'll be back tomorrow, don't worry."

"Yeah, okay." Natasha closes her eyes. "Thanks, really. I know that's a lot to ask from you as well."

#blood and stone #buckynat #vampire au #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #black widow #winter soldier #my writing #fanfic

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deanwinchester1979 · 4 years ago

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The Apology- Part 1 Dean x Reader

Dean Winchester x Reader

There isn’t any smut or even fluff, this story is all about Sam getting kidnapped in a hunt gone wrong. As the reader and Dean, whom are dating, search for him they discover he was taken to an abandoned building infested with vampires.

I just wanted to post this one first because it’s my shortest and it’s actually done to see if people are interested! Trust me, I have way more smutty and fluffy fanfics waiting to be posted!

He always seemed distant. He was lost in his thoughts all the time, chasing them away with whiskey. He did it so often I studied it, for instance how he does 3 ice cubes with about 4 seconds of liquor. I knew he wouldn’t be himself after everything he’s been through. I mean we got into this business because of death.

“Hey, it’s all going to be okay. We’ll get him back.” I supported Dean and gave him my most comforting smile. The twinkle that hung in his green eyes were just so startling, that every time I saw them, it was like the first time. Falling all over again. It was like he was having a competitive staring contest with the melting ice cubes in his glass. “He’s been gone for a week. Everything is a mess and I don’t think he’s coming back, (y/n),” Dean still didn’t break his stare with the now 2 ice cubes and 2 seconds of liquor, he just brushed a hand through his short ruffled hair.

It was the next morning in the rundown hotel room when I woke to Dean searching things on his laptop at the table. I probably laid there for 30 minutes just watching his cycle: Type something, stare for a few minutes, take a slug, repeat. I finally decided to get up, given it was 10:48 in the morning, it was a late start for me. After the morning routine, Dean was still at the laptop but now with the whole bottle. “Hey, did you get any shut eye?” I slid my arm across his shoulder and rested my chin on his other. His eyes didn’t lose the ‘revenge seeking glare’ on the screen filled with hundreds of windows. He gulped back some Jack Daniels and shook his head and let out a not much reassuring breath. “I’m going to take that as a no,” I patted his bicep and got up from his figure. Sliding on my worn out leather jacket with boots and grabbed my wallet from the nightstand drawer. Opening the door with a creak caught his attention from the artificial light. “Where you going, got a hot date?” He questioned with a rough voice given he hasn’t said anything in 10 hours. “No actually I was going to the diner down the street for a hot meal, if you want to call it a hot date.” I laughed at my last comment, finding my puns entertaining, so did Dean. “I was just about to ask you to come with me, they’re known for their pie.” I winked, acknowledging the fact that pie was the only thing he’d never shoot down. His eyes lit up with that twinkle again. With a smile vastly spreading across his face, he threw his own worn out leather Jacket over his shoulder, wasting no time to get out the door. Before we jumped into his car, “You’re not driving,” he divulged clearly.

“If you want me to pay for your pie, then yeah, I am driving. Oh c’mon just let me once.” I begged, he threw me the keys with a simper. The classic black 1967 Chevy Impala roared to life as Dean was about to give me instructions.

“No need,” I lifted a hand, “My dad didn’t take me to the shop everyday for nothing.” I glanced a smirk at Dean and rolled out of the lot, as the same time his eyes did.

We sat at a booth in the corner with a view out the window of Lebanon, Kansas’ streets starting to fill with cars rushing to and fro. Dean just stared out the window watching them pass by, I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to be a part of his thoughts so he wouldn’t torture himself with his imagination.

“Hey, what’s up. What are you thinking?” I tilted my head a little to attempt to get into his peripheral vision. He just steadily lowered his head down, resting his cheek upon his shoulder. I knew he was going to say something, that’s his ‘about-to-say-my-deep-thoughts’ look.

“I don’t know,” He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess I just can’t stop thinking about Sam, and how if he was here he’d be telling us to get up and do our jobs.” He raised his voice pausing at the end waiting on himself to say his next sentence. I knew he was aggravated with the circumstances right now but, he loves his job more than any human being ever could.

We work together in this line of business, hunting down what really does lurk in the night. Monsters. Saving people, hunting things that’s our business. I guess the title sounds a bit more larger-than-life than what it really is. We move from cheap hotel room to the next, looking for cases of mysterious deaths or occurrences in towns, mainly the small ones. We don’t even get paid, not even a thank you, lucky if I even get called crazy. It’s not a job most realistic people set out to maintain, but it’s a job. And hey, someone needs to do it, and we’re the best for it.

“But, if I had just been two seconds earlier he actually could be sitting right here,” He pointed next to him, “If I had just-” I decided to end his self torturing.

“No, Dean you do not have the right to beat yourself up about this! It’s not your fault, we just need to be more careful and prepared next time. And we will go on hunts, and we’re still going to look for him. We’re going to find Sam, don’t worry, we are going to get him back. So stop beating yourself up and be the guy that I know and love.” I placed my hand over his folded in front of him and just gave him my once again head tilt but with a sweet smile, to show him he’s important to me. Once our hands were tangled together, he finally looked up at me and into my eyes. The waitress brought out two steaming plates of apple pie slices that we ordered when we walked in the door. His eye twinkle was back again. I couldn’t help but just smile at him like a mom does when their kid is laughing and playing. Falling all over again. He was going for the fork and didn’t bother putting down a napkin, I put my hand out stopping him from scooping up a huge apple slice. He looked up at me like I just took away his new Christmas toys and told him to visit with family. I couldn’t help it but laugh. “Dean, it’s steaming hot, you’re going to get excited, take a bite, realize it’s 1000 degrees and spit it out, maybe shed some tears.”

“What’s wrong with that?” It took him a minute to realize I made a joke of him, “And hey! I don't cry, and if I did they’d be man tears.” He puffed out his chest like he was attempting to impress me. And sure enough I caught him huffing on the hot bite he just shoveled into his gorgeous mouth.

“Okay whatever you say, Man Tears.” I said jokingly, starting to blow on mine.

The pie was gone after two more slices, it even looks like he licked the plate entirely clean, they might not need to wash it. Dean leaned back resting his hands on his flat stomach, ”God, I’m stuffed.” He released a huff of breath filling the air with an apple pie scent. I felt so full, I was about to take a nap right there in the booth.

We walked to the car, interlocking arms from devouring so much pie the force of sleep was overpowering. I offered to drive the 4 minutes back to the motel where the dense mattresses were, but he wanted to. So I let him drive his pride and joy.

He unlocked the room with the rusted key and pressed firmly against the door so it would budge. We didn’t need to flip the lights on because the sun had a perfect shine right into the curtains leaving fairy dust in the air. The police scanner was going off with sheriffs ranting on about a Code 6, 44, and 24. It seemed Dean knew exactly what they were saying, I definitely needed a brush up on my scanner codes. All I could understand was 44, it meant kidnapping. He threw the pie we brought back for later on the table and grabbed the duffle bag from under his bed. He grabbed the radio and pushed me back into the car. “10-7, We’re 20 minutes till the abandoned barn off of Lincoln Road. Code 77, Out.” Dean had heard every word and disguised numbers and knew what was happening while he threw the bag in the back seat and rushed the engine as quick as the keys could.

“10-4.”

#dean winchester #deanwinchtser #supernatural #deanxreader #dean x reader #savingsam #samwinchester #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #fanfiction #samanddean #sam and dean

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writingformadderton · 5 years ago

Text

Hercules💜

Ship: Madderton

Word Count: 2354

Summary: Richard is known as someone who´s having many admirers but breaks all of their hearts. When he meets Taron on set he gets to know a different side of himself and falls in love pretty quickly. Bryce realizes the change in Richard's behavior and talks to Taron. Taron himself is insecure, not wanting him to break his heart and just get used for some fun. One day Richard confronts him in his trailer to talk about it.

Additional Tags: fluff, insecurity, kissing, weight issues, body issues, falling in love

“Taron? Meeting in 10 minutes!” Bryce’s voice rings through the silence of Taron’s trailer as she speaks from outside.

“Give me a second.” He shouts back and grabs his phone and keys. He checks himself in the mirror one last time and opens the door. The warm sunlight shines in his face and he slides his sunglasses over his eyes to see. After closing his trailer door, he walks down the small stairs and pulls Bryce into a hug. “How are you love?” He asks smiling and they begin walking towards to main building on set.

“I’m good and you?” She answers and looks at him with a warm smile.

“I’m great. What are we gonna do today?” Taron asks and puts his hands in his pockets.

“I think we’re gonna talk about some upcoming scenes with Reid now that Richard has arrived.” She pushes her dyed, dark hair back behind her ears and shrugs her shoulders.

Oh right, Richard. Taron was still confused about what happened when they met for the first time. He was just gonna shake his hand and say hi. The normal way to greet someone you don’t know, right? His co-star and on-screen lover had other plans. Staring into his eyes, Richard said hi with the brightest smile on his lips and held Taron’s hand for a little too long. He gave him a wink and just went on with life as if nothing happened. Taron’s mind has been racing since then, almost in awe of his costar.

They walk in and see Jaime with Richard, who has his arm around Jaime’s shoulders. Richard says something and Jaime bursts into laughter loudly. The giggles from the Scottish man and his shining blue eyes make Taron’s heart skip a beat. Jaime strolls over to the pair and greets them with a big hug. Richard follows suit and hugs Bryce. Then, he wraps his arms around T and the smell of Rich’s cologne is intoxicating. “You look lovely.” He whispers in his ear and Taron can feel himself blushing.

A bit later, Bryce pulls T to the side. “I think Richard has a crush on you.” She says and winks at him.

But Taron shakes his head in disbelief. Richard? No way. “Why would he?” He asks lowly.

“Listen, Rich is the tough guy who’s broken his fair share of hearts than he’s had his. Usually, he doesn’t take the first step.” Bryce raises her eyebrows and hopes Taron gets the hint. “You look lovely.” She imitates his voice and winks at him.

Taron begins to laugh. “Stop it!” He giggles. But he can’t stop himself from looking over at Richard, meeting his eyes. Rich smiles softly and keeps looking at him. Taron swallows hard and turns back to Bryce.

“I told ya.” She simply says and takes her script from the desk nearest Taron.

Back in his trailer, Taron puts away his sunglasses and sighs, standing in place for a bit. His mind is racing as Bryce’s words play back in his brain. Why would someone like Richard Madden be interested in him? Taron walks over to the mirror and observes his reflection. Richard’s eyes look as though someone took the ocean and trapped it in his orbs. Yet, his own eyes are a mixture of blue, green and sometimes brown so it’s a mystery what their true color is. He takes off his blue Rocketman cap that’s hiding his mess of hair. Richard’s hair is soft and the grey streak in it adds to its beauty. Rich looks stunning in a tight shirt while he wears wider ones to hide the weight gain for the role. Taron is loud, energetic, singing and laughing all the time and never could stand still. Rich is calm, not easy to distract. Complete opposites, how would that even work out?

Taron groans and throws his cap on the floor. Stop comparing yourself, focus on your job and keep it professional between you two, he tells himself. He changes into a comfy jumper and sits down on the little sofa.

After 20 minutes of studying his lines, someone knocks at the door. He frowns and gets up, opening the door. “Hey, Duckie. Dexter suggested some freetime together for us.” Rich says and looks up to him. The new nickname Rich has for him makes him smile.

“Sure, when will we all meet?” Taron asks and rubs his fingers through his messy hair. Shit, where did he put his cap.

Richard giggles shortly and his blue eyes light up. “He meant us two.”

“Oh.” T whispers and stares into Rich’s eyes. “You wanna come in or-?”

“Sure.” Rich speaks and comes up the stairs. Taron looks down at himself and sees the old jumper. He looks over to his costar, who is wearing a dark shirt and jeans. Shit, he looks good. He takes off the jumper and looks down at his blue shirt. A lot better, he thinks to himself. Richard watches him curiously and smiles cheekily. “You’re hot.”

“What?” Taron asks shocked and looks over at Richard. He’s sitting on the sofa. Did Richard Madden just call him hot?

“Your jumper.” Richard says and points at it. “You took it off.” He watches Taron’s every move and can’t hide a grin.

“Oh, yea.” Taron pushes out and lies it aside. He feels himself blushing and turns around. “You wanna drink something?” He asks while searching for two glasses. He notices Richard from the corner of his eye stand up and make his way over to him. Taron tells himself to calm down, it’s just his co-star, right? Well, why is he getting nervous around him?

“You’re nervous.” He hears Rich say with his thick accent. “I wonder about what.” Taron can hear the cheeky teasing in his voice. It makes his heart race and his palms sweaty. His thoughts are all jumbled up, what should he say? “Taron. Look at me.” His voice is soft and sweet like honey. The wolf is hunting him, his pure lamb, with no mercy. Holding the glasses tight in his hands, Taron turns around and looks up shy. “It’s just me. No need to overthink and get insecure.” Taron blinks and wants nothing more than to actually believe his words. “What did Bryce tell you about me?”

“Huh?” T asks and tries to come up with something. Did they make it that obvious?

“You heard me.” Richard says and leans against the table behind him. He folds his arms over his chest and looks at him with those dashing blue eyes.

“She just said that she thinks you’re flirting with me.” Taron says quietly and avoids his intense gaze.

“What do you think?” T just shrugs and bites his lip. God, why does this have to happen now? “Would you mind me doing it?” Taron shakes his head, still not looking at Richard. “Look at me, T.” Taron slowly looks up and forces his lip from his teeth. “What if I told you that I fell in love with you?”

“What if I asked you if you were serious about that?” Taron asks and swallows hard. He fears getting played with and hurt.

“I would tell you I am deadly serious about my feelings all the time.” Rich speaks and raises his eyebrows slightly, making T get the hint. The tough guy who broke more hearts than he made his. Of course he is serious about his feelings.

“Why?” Taron puts away the glasses. It seems as though they wouldn’t need them anytime soon.

“Why what?” Rich asks.

“Why me? Out of everyone you could take, you’re gonna go with me?” T shakes his head, still not believing the situation at hand.

“Because I’ve been searching for someone who is the right one for me.” Richard answers as his eyes observe him slowly, forming a soft expression.

“Well then, I really don’t understand why you would stop searching here.” The Welsh states and stares down at the floor.

Richard takes a step forward and lifts his chin up with his finger. “Taron.” He rolls the r in his name, making Taron’s knees weak at the sound. “Do you even know how incredible you are?” T remains silent and sees Richard’s eyes wander down to his lips. His thumb softly rubs over them before he looks back into his eyes.

“Please don’t play with my feelings.” He spits out barely above a whisper. He feels that well known fear creeping up in him, just like every time someone seems to actually care about him. He was always wondering how long it’ll last and how much he’ll have to reveal about himself. It’s a risk every single time.

“I would never play with your feelings.” Rich says softly and Taron wants to believe him. Rich slowly leans in and their lips are only a few inches apart. They share a look and T sees a slight hint of insecurity in his eyes. Was he afraid too? Didn’t Bryce say he was a tough guy? Why would he be nervous? “Talk to me, T. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

Taron is too shy for words and swallows hard. He slowly leans in closer and their lips barely touch. Rich looks into his eyes for the last time and they flutter close. The Scottish man closes the small gap between their lips and kisses him. It’s the sweetest and best Taron ever felt in his life. Richard’s full lips underneath his feel so good and he prays it doesn’t end soon. But Rich pulls back and looks at him carefully. “Please don’t stop.” Taron whispers and Rich complies with his request.

Richard’s hand softly grab Taron’s neck before tangling in his hair. Suddenly, life is sprung into Taron. His hands press Rich’s body closer against his. T opens his eyes shortly and sees Rich smiling into the kiss. Is this really happening right now? Richard stops again and looks at T. “What do you want, Taron?”

“I-I want to have dinner with you.” He breathes out and can’t help his grin.

Rich giggles hearing the line from the script and gives his scripted response. “You’re so humble, it’s embarrassing.” He kisses Taron again and they chuckle into the kiss.

The next day on set, they can barely keep their hands to themselves. They went out for dinner the night before and had a lot of fun. Taron glances over to Rich, who’s trying to focus on the conversation he’s having with Dex. But his eyes keep meeting Taron’s and he can see how he tries to hide a smile.

Dex turns away from Richard and shouts. “Okay, 10 minute break!”

Only one look is needed and they head away from set into the same direction. As soon as they are away from prying eyes, Rich takes his hand and pulls him towards his trailer. They share some kisses while Richard tries to unlock the door. Sharing rough kisses, they walk in and Rich kicks the door closed. He throws away the keys and cups Taron’s face while planting hungry kisses on his lips. Rich knows his trailer exactly and walks T over to the sofa with his eyes closed. He pulls back and pushes Taron down on the sofa.

T pants and looks up at Rich, who’s already coming closer and lying on top of him. Rich braces himself next to his head and leans down towards him. Taron kisses him softly, but soon gets overwhelmed by Rich’s hungry nature. Rich’s lips travel down to his neck and leaves kisses there. T moans out when he sucks on his neck. “Rich, stop.” He groans out, but can’t fight the impulse to tangle his fingers in his hair and pull him closer.

“Hmm?” Rich hums, still going.

“Stop sucking my neck. We gotta get back to set soon.” Taron groans loudly when Rich bites him below his ear.

“You’re right.” Rich breathes out, but doesn’t stop working on Taron’s neck. There’s a hunger inside him that needs to be stilled. He pulls away from him gasping for air and looks down at T, who’s smiling softly. God, he loved his golden boy.

Taron sees the hunger in Richard’s dark eyes and his heart pounds. Damn, he was a lucky man. He softly strokes his thumb over Rich’s lips and joy fills his heart. Is this real? Is Richard really in love with him? Or was he having the best dream of his life?

“I love you.” Richard whispers and stares down at him adoringly.

“I love you too.” T whispers back and grabs his neck. He softly pulls Rich down towards him and kisses his lips.

“I love your fluffy hair.” Rich whispers between kisses and runs his fingers through Taron’s hair. “Your beautiful blueish green eyes.” T blushes slightly. “Your adorable energetic self. Always singing with that amazing angel voice.” His lips travel down his neck again and Rich sits up slightly to reach different places on his skin. He slowly lets his hand wander under Taron’s shirt and prepares to take it off.

But he’s stopped by Taron. “Please don’t.” He speaks softly.

Rich doesn’t let T stop him and slowly pulls up his shirt, seeing embarrassment in Taron’s eyes. “You don’t have to look all pumped up like in Kingsman to be beautiful, love.” Richard assures him, knowing what Taron struggles with. He becomes soft and kisses his belly, rubbing soft circles over his skin. As he looks up again, he sees tears in Taron’s eyes and stops. He pulls down his shirt and watches him carefully. Did he go too far? “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Taron presses his lips together. “You just told me you love all the things about myself that I was unsure about.”

Rich smiles softly and sits up. He pulls T close to him and cups his face. “Somebody as handsome and loveable as you shouldn’t be that insecure about himself. You are stunning in every way.” And with that, he places the softest and sweetest kiss on his lips.

@taruhnegerton @cheshirechan @dreamingwolfthings @onceuponadetectivedemigod @guns-n-marvel @shereighties @primaba11erina @honkycrowley

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onwardintolight · 5 years ago

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Han x Leia, ESB, Trip to Bespin, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: ESB from Leia's POV. A journey from despair to hope, a blossoming, an opening to vulnerability and love.

Warnings: Deals with some heavy themes, incl. working through trauma, depression, self-harm, attempted sexual assault. Each chapter will be individually warned.

Note: I’m currently in the process of reposting the first nine chapters here in full, since when I first wrote this fic, I only shared links to the chapters on AO3 and FFN. I will try to post at least weekly. In the meantime, if you’d prefer to binge-read it, the entire fic is posted in full on AO3 and FFN.

Part: Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue

Soundtrack

~~~

Author’s note 11/2019: Major spoilers for Solo: A Star Wars Story

Warnings for chapter: none

~~~

It was a relief to relax again; to simply enjoy the feel of each other’s lips and hands on each other for a little while, there in the circuitry bay. Leia tried hard to quiet her worries, and for a moment, she almost succeeded.

That moment was soon interrupted, however. Chewie stuck his head in the door, braying something about it being time for food, with an addendum about how it would be great if they pursued their mating rituals somewhere outside of his sight and hearing.

«Besides,» he noted, «I’ve prepared something special.»

Duly chastised, they made their way to the dejarik table. Emotionally, Leia felt as though she’d just flown through some particularly rough in-air turbulence, and she wasn’t that hungry—at least, not until she caught the scent of whatever was in the bowl Chewie was carrying in. He deposited it on the table in front of them with a flourish.

“What’s this?” she asked.

Instead of answering, he disappeared again to the corner of the hold, quickly returning with a large plate of ration sticks and reconstituted Bilbringi pies.

«A feast,» he announced. «I made a sauce to go with the rations. It will make us feel like our feet are rooted to the ground again.» He passed out bowls and utensils, and the three of them eagerly dug in.

Leia dipped a spoon into her sauce-covered Bilbringi pie and lifted it for a taste. Immediately, she closed her eyes, savoring the rich, spicy flavor. “How in the galaxy did you manage this, Chewie?” she asked.

Han cut in between bites. “Oh, he always keeps a bunch of spices and stuff around, just in case.”

«One never knows when they’ll be stuck onboard for three weeks,» explained Chewie. «It’s good to—» here he made a series of sounds Leia wasn’t familiar with, and she looked at Han inquisitively.

“He means it’s nice to have something special to break up the routine.”

“I’ll say,” she replied, taking another bite. It wasn’t just the weeks on the ship; it was the endless cold rations on Hoth, too. When had she last had a proper meal? Ord Mantell, maybe? “Honestly, Chewie,” she said, “this is as good as any royal feast I can remember.”

After their stomachs were suitably stuffed—Leia had only found two Wookiee hairs in her bowl, and the last bite was every bit as mouthwateringly delicious as the first—Han turned on some music and conjured up a sabacc deck and a handful of Corellian ales. Soon the hold rang with laughter. Leia had generally been too caught up in her duties to play the game much, but Han and Chewie, while fiercely competitive towards each other, were rather generous teachers. Soon she was holding her own—which for now, she surmised, meant not losing every hand. She suspected Han was going easy on them.

After a long time the music quieted, the album having played through twice already.

“And… Pure Sabacc.” Han layed out his hand triumphantly. Chewie bellowed, waving his arms in frustration. Leia laid out her cards in defeat—she’d had a good hand this round, but at twenty-one points, it wasn’t nearly enough. She briefly thanked the old gods that they weren’t playing for a sabacc pot; otherwise she might have just lost… a lot.

“You’re watching a master at work,” Han crowed, tipping back his second Corellian ale, and Leia and Chewie both rolled their eyes.

She took a small sip of her own drink. “Where did you learn to play sabacc, Han?”

“Oh… around.” He waved dismissively.

«Han was already a master of it when we met, and he was barely more than a cub in human years, then.»

“So… you learned it on Corellia?”

Han shrugged. “We may have been scrumrats, but we were still kids. It was one of the few ways we had fun.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Do you ever miss your home planet?” Leia asked.

“No,” Han said firmly. There was no hesitation in his voice.

Leia nodded. She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, and thought for a moment. She needed to tread this conversation carefully—considering the lightheartedness of the evening and the alcohol Han had consumed, she suspected he might be a little more open than usual to talking, but she still didn’t want to push too hard. “When you finally escaped… how did it feel? Did you feel free, or was it bittersweet?”

Han and Chewie exchanged a brief look. Then Han leaned back in the seat, raking his fingers through his hair. “Uh,” he muttered. “It’s… complicated.”

She nodded, giving him space to go on if he wanted to. After another mouthful of his ale, he did.

“So, uh, there was this girl.”

Leia stiffened a little, but she just as quickly relaxed again. Of course there was a girl, she told herself. There’d been multiple girls; she was already well aware of that. Don’t be silly; listen. She didn’t want to miss out on this part of his story just because of some childish sort of jealousy.

“We tried to escape together,” he continued. “But… I made it; she didn’t. They grabbed her right as we went through the gate at the spaceport, and I couldn’t do a damn thing.” He shrugged. “I spent the next three years in the Imperial Navy planning out how I was gonna buy my own ship and go back to Corellia. To find her. So yeah, as much as I hated Corellia, you wouldn’t’ve believed it back then.”

“Did you do it? Did you go back and find her?”

He took another sip. “Didn’t have to. Turns out, she was sold right after I left—to Crimson Dawn.”

Leia’s breath caught in her throat.

“She was owned by one of the syndicate’s head honchos,” Han continued, “and somehow she managed to work her way up to being his lieutenant. We ran into each other on my first job after the Empire. Chewie n’ I were with a crew doing a job for Crimson Dawn, and she came with us to Kessel.” He face lit up in a grin. “The trip where I made the run—”

“In less than twelve parsecs. We know,” Leia said, rolling her eyes. “So what happened to her? Did she ever get free?”

“She… no, she didn’t. At least I don’t think so. I, uh, thought, at the end, that we had won, and that she was gonna come away with me and Chewie. She killed the guy who owned her. But… I guess she had other ideas.”

Leia frowned, feeling the glimmer of deep pain in Han’s past. “She took his place,” she said, the realization coming as she said the words. She wondered if this girl was still alive… and if she was still at the head of the notorious cartel.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Eh, it was a long time ago. I was a kid, naïve. She’d always been like that; a survivor, a climber. In it for herself, no matter what—or who—was in her way.” His words, even after all these years, sounded bitter.

Leia raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like somebody I once thought I knew.”

Han ignored her comment. “It wouldn’t’ve worked out.”

«Hmm. It wouldn’t have,» Chewie agreed. «But Han was sad for a long time.»

“Thanks, fuzzball,” he retorted. “It’s not like nobody ever broke your heart.”

Chewie chuckled. «There was a young Wookiee before Malla,» he explained, turning to Leia. «I was also sad for a long time when we ended the hunt.» He paused. «These things are hard. But when you meet the right person, the sadness of the past seems very small next to the happiness you’ve found.»

With that, Chewbacca stretched and rose from the dejarik table. «I’m going to leave you two to continue your mating ritual. Just stay away from the number three hold.»

Leia blushed. “Chewie, it’s not—we’re not—”

The Wookiee only laughed, eyes twinkling. «Goodnight, cubs.»

The main hold was quiet for a little while in Chewie’s absence. Then, Han scooted closer to Leia on the bench, putting an arm around her and shifting his ale to his other hand. He massaged her shoulder, looking thoughtful.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve had a lot of disappointments. A lot of heartache.” He took another sip. “Everyone I’ve ever cared for has either abandoned or betrayed me, the whole lot of ‘em.” He made a scornful sound. “Usually both. And I never… I never took it easy.” He glanced at her. “I’ve had to learn to face the galaxy on my own. Well, not completely—I’ve got Chewie, but you know what I mean. I’ve had to learn not to trust people, not to commit to anything.” He swallowed, looking into her eyes. “I… Leia… I want that to be different, with you.”

Leia opened her mouth to respond, then she closed it again. She wasn’t sure what to say. His words had stirred something deep within her, and her mind was still working through what all it meant. He wants to commit, she thought. He wants a life together. How impossible that would have sounded, once. Still sounded, if she were honest. Was it? All she knew was that she desperately wanted it, too.

“I love you,” he murmured again, and bent down for a lingering kiss. They parted, and she laid her head on his shoulder, nestling into him, wishing she had more to give. Several minutes passed in silence.

And then, finally, she knew what to say, what to do.

She took a deep breath. “On Alderaan,” she began, “women’s hair is regarded as sacred, in a way. There’s all sorts of meaning behind how we wear it.” She paused. “And… there’s a lot of meaning behind who gets to take it down. It’s… incredibly intimate.” She sat up, trembling. Slowly, she drew a pin out of her hair and laid it in his hand. His eyes widened.

She hoped he would understand. It wasn’t a spoken “I love you,” nor was it a lustful consummation. But it was a sign, and, she hoped, a promise of things to come. A powerful act, words without words. Would he hear them? She rotated on the bench, presenting him with the coil of braids that were wrapped around the back of her head.

Slowly, he reached out and touched them. Then he kissed the nape of her neck, making the tiny hairs there stand on end. She let out a shaky breath. He began to search, his fingers wandering over the braids. He pulled out one pin, then another. Every time he removed one, he planted another kiss—this one on her shoulder, that one on her cheek, another one on her neck again.

Finally, the last pin was out and her hair was unraveled. She felt it spilling like a waterfall over her shoulders and back. From behind her, Han made a quiet, agonized sort of sound. She’d never worn her hair down around him before. With reverent care, he dug his fingers into her loose tresses, slowly running through them, gently smoothing out the tangles. “Leia,” he murmured, voice cracking. “It’s… kriff, you’re so beautiful.” He buried his head in it, kissed it.

Once again, Leia didn’t know what to say. A lump had formed in her throat; it seemed to come from a bubble of joy inside her that was growing larger and larger by the second. There were no words for this. She simply turned around to face him, drew his forehead to hers, and then kissed him again, long and deep, while his hands wove through her hair.

#Han x Leia #HanLeia #HanLeia fic #Han x Leia fic #Star Wars fic #SW fic #Han Solo #Leia Organa #Solo movie #Solo: A Star Wars Story #many thanks to Claudia Gray (and many others in the HanLeia fandom) for providing the inspiration for a particular scene here #Star Wars #The Opening #my fanfic #my fic #thoughts

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punishandenslavesuckers · 6 years ago

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Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes up in a grave by the road ten years after he died. Things have gone a bit wrong since then and he might be the only one who can set things right… since it’s the Mighty Nein themselves who’ve gone wrong. AU: Where Molly comes back to yell at his super-powered Level 20 friends. (AO3 - part1) (AO3 - part 2) (AO3 - part3) (AO3 - part4) (AO3 - part5) (AO3-part6) (AO3-part7) (AO3-part8) (AO3-part9) (AO3-part10)

Mollymauk is getting accustomed to this teleporting thing.

He’s getting accustomed to a lot of things, really, like the dying. Like the constant apprehension painted in a thin, burning layer across the inside of his lungs. Like the taste of blood in the back of his throat and the way resurrection magic slithers through his body – like a climax but turned horribly inside out. Molly’s getting used to this dissociation now between his physical self and his soul as he’s pulled through reality from point A to point B. That tooth-click that keeps happening when he stops being nothing and exists again suddenly. That weird ‘pop’.

Molly pops back into being standing in what looks like a dim and unkempt professor’s study.

It’s a big room. There are long wood tables scarred with chemical and arcane fire. Books stacked and laid out everywhere, papers scrawled with shorthand that seems to slither on the parchment when Molly looks at it. The place smells of burnt ozone and there are fading white runes painted onto the flagstones beneath his boots. Suggesting to Mollymauk that Caleb’s pulled him somewhere very specific. He’d hazard it’s Caleb’s personal workshop by the vaulted ceilings literally top to bottom and wall to wall bookshelves stuffed and stacked with tomes.

Caleb Widogast is still gripping Molly’s hand. Like a man might have hold of a handle.

On immediate instinct, Molly tries to extract his hand. But Caleb doesn’t let go so they just stand there. Caleb is still just a little bit shorter than him, but his eyes are still lit from the inside by whatever power lives in him like a star dying behind his irises. He’s staring at Molly and as Molly watches, the blood and gore and the crushed pieces of dead insect that coat his skin begin to flake away, floating and peeling off like embers off a log until Caleb is whole and healed and his hand is hot around Molly’s knuckles.

Through his teeth, Molly says, “Let go of me.”

Caleb’s eyes seem to focus then, like he’d been staring at some other layer of reality until Molly’s voice brought him. His fingers unfurl and he watches Molly instantly back away three paces, massaging his hand where the wizard touched him, rubbing off whatever lingers in the ink and scarring. If he’s offended by this, he gives no outward sign.

“Don’t touch anything. I can’t promise the items here won’t hurt you.”

Molly tells him to go fuck himself in Infernal.

Caleb blinks, then says, “You say that a lot, ja?”

“Well, you haven’t listened to me yet and I really think you fuckin’ should,” Molly snaps, frantically looking around the room. There’s no visible exit, just a strange constant convergence of walls and shelves and acute to obtuse that don’t seem to quite follow the laws of geometry as Molly understand them. It makes the room simultaneously bigger and more claustrophobic. Molly finds breathing harder all at once. “What do you want from me?”

“To talk,” he says, “for now.”

Molly processing that for a minute.

Then snarls, “Are you out of your bloody mind?” When Caleb knits his brow, Molly waves his hands around. “Kidnapping me? You think holding me hostage is gonna do shit? I’m the magic undead teifling, you dumbarse. You can’t threaten me. I’m literally the most useless hostage you could take. What’re ya gonna do?” He puts on a sarcastic voice. “Kill me?”

“I don’t plan on it.”

Molly’s still got one hand around his own wrist, rubbing restlessly at the tattoo run over his knuckles. His fingers dig tight until the bones in his hand pulse with his own rabbiting heartbeat. His entire body feels wound too tight to take. Shaking to bolt or battle, but his hasn’t got any weapons now and he’s standing near enough to touch to a man that kills with one word. He consciously slows his breathing. Tells himself to stop bloody shaking while Caleb studies him head to foot. Incrementally. Like he’s committing details to memory.

“Will Caduceus be alright?”

“That cell has more air, if that’s what you mean.” Caleb circles to Mollymauk’s left. “I wouldn’t use a fire-based spell otherwise.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Molly steps right to keep the same distance between them.

“He won’t die,” Caleb says, still circling, forcing Molly to move so they’re slowly orbiting one another. Caleb never breaks eye contact and Molly’s heart keeps racing, panic telling him that, and just that, could be some somatic component in a spell. Caleb shrugs. “I don’t know if he’ll be okay. That’s a bad enchantment. It can, ah, affect people.” He waves a hand vaguely at his head. “You know, that way.”

“Torture spells are traumatizing?” Molly snaps. “Fascinating. Who knew?”

“You think Caduceus is so gentle.” Caleb’s brows lift. “So soft, ja?”

“No, he skewered a dragon and trades in man-eating beetles. I’ve met trolls that were less scary. That doesn’t mean I’m on your side.”

“Of course not.” Caleb stops to face Molly full on. “You’re on the side of those who raised you. It’s understandable.”

“Oi, bite me, Mr. Widogast. I was on your bloody side until you killed me on a whim and word.” Molly squares himself to the wizard. “Don’t try to play victim when you bring up demons and attack your friends without a kindness of warning. If you mean to make me see your reason in all this, I’m tellin’ you now it’ll be a hard fuckin’ sell.”

“I know,” say Caleb. “Mollymauk, I’m going to show you something, but you need to do a few things for me.”

“Ha!” Molly didn’t mean to laugh that loud, but he’s a little hysterical at this point. “I’m not doing fuck all. You can drag me around on a magic leash first.”

Caleb sighs, then waves a hand… and Molly starts to glow. Or rather, his mithril-chain shirt and his bracers start to glow. Also, the rings on his index finger and thumb. Also, the half-dozen charms hanging around his neck and the clasp around his right horn, and the empty sword sheathes at his hips. Molly is lit up all over, glowing from every magic source on his body which is – with Nott’s insistence – quite a lot of magical aid.

“Take all that off,” Caleb says, hand still shimmering with the detect magic charm.

Molly doesn’t move.

“I’m not identifying any of that shit,” Caleb says evenly. “Take all of it off.”

“Nott gave these to me.”

Caleb’s expression cracks. A slight widening in the eyes suddenly – not of surprise but hurt. Then it’s gone under a stern indifference and he tilts his head a little and raises his other hand, thumb pressed to his middle and index finger in the precursor to a snap.

“Last chance,” Caleb says.

“Nott gave all this to me,” Molly whispers, “to protect me from—”

Caleb snaps his fingers and the air behind him displaces as something massive just materializes in the space directly behind him. Molly jerks back, his hips hitting a worktable. The thing behind Caleb sort of… unfurls. A broad, muscular back shifts as gargantuan leather wings arch up and flare over the wizard’s tawny head. Blue hide, riddled in plates of scale, shimmers in the torch light. A long serpentine neck arches up and up until the beast turns giant predator-gold eyes to fix on Molly. Its skull is the size of a battle shield, its jaw long, draconic, and toothy. Talons big as coat hangers clack and scrap on the floor as what appears to be a bull-sized blue dragon rises up behind Caleb the way a hunting dog comes to quarry.

“Blue dragon wyrmling,” says Caleb, reaching up to pat the beast’s horrifying jaw. “They like magic. Frumpkin doesn’t get to play with anything magic in this form, you see. My work is too dangerous.”

“Caleb,” Molly starts to say, fingers, digging into the table edge behind him. “Don’t—”

Caleb says a word in Zemnian. On that command, his hulking familiar looses a joyous predator scream.

Then it lunges at Molly.

It tears past Caleb, so smooth it barely disturbs the wizard’s fine black and gold robes. Molly, to his credit, immediately hurdles the table, dive rolls, and comes up sprinting on the opposite end of the table. Frumpkin hits the table, missing Molly by inches, then it hits the ground behind him, claws scrabbling on the stone like an off-balance Labrador. Molly feels it on instinct when Frumpkin swipes at his back. He ducks right, going low, skidding, razor-sharp claws whipping through the air over his head.

But then he’s on the ground and Frumpkin is huge.

Frumpkin’s jaws snap closed on the back of Molly’s tunic and with a whip of his head, the hurls Molly against another long table like a cat slinging a mouse against a wall. He crashes through a pile of books which – wondrously – take flight and scatter like a flock of disturbed pigeons. It would be neat if a small dragon didn’t then slam Molly like a battering ram. The beast pins him under massive claws, landing so the pads of its feet are crushing Molly’s upper arms flat, his spine bent back over the edge of the table as Frumpkin the blue dragon wyrmling start to bite excitedly at the mithril chainmail beneath Molly’s tunic.

“CALEB!” His tunic shreds under eager dragon teeth. “FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Frumpkin drives his massive bony head against Molly’s chest and instantly cracks two ribs. Molly still manages to scream. Then Frumpkin is grinding an anvil-heavy skull against him like a cat might shove its face in a pillow of catnip except it’s his fucking ribcage and stomach. Frumpkin snuffles at Molly’s skull, chewing lightly at the clasp clipped to his horn before giving that up as a back job and rearing back to study him.

Then Frumpkin’s jaws start to open, crackling with blue static, a long tongue lashing with sparks. Molly sees it coming but he can’t stop it. Frumpkin licks Molly’s neck which… you know, fucking electrocutes him. Molly chokes as a short, agonizing current rips through him, lashing every muscle in his body into a garrote-wire of tension before the current dispels into the wood and it’s over.

Molly isn’t conscious of Frumpkin getting off of him, only of hitting the floor and rolling onto his side, his entire body throbbing and his neck searing where the dragon-thing licked him. He smells burnt skin and ozone.

“Okay, ah, that was a bit much…” Caleb is saying. “Bad cat.”

“Fuck you,” Molly snarls, but it’s undercut with a sob. His entire chest pulses red rivers of fire with every breath.

He curls his one arm around himself and just lays there in a heap with his forehead pressed to the cool stone, tail wrapped around his body at the knee. He has one palm pressed to the floor near his waist, but he can’t find the strength to get up. Through the feverish glow of pain, he feels a hand touch his neck and that cold palm smooths from the hinge if his jaw, down the line of muscle to his clavicle. A slow bleed of magic slides through the gash, like pouring liquid salve into the wound and from there it travels down, down, spreading out inside his chest until the hairline cracks splintered through his ribs go cold as well. Soon, there’s no pain left. Just a numb buzzing in the nerves.

Molly lifts his head.

Pale blue eyes stare back.

“Are you going to take off your enchantments or do you want Frumpkin to try again?”

Molly shoves Caleb in the chest.

This knocks the wizard onto his butt. He didn’t seem to have expected that, because he just kind of drops on his ass and blinks. Surprised while his gigantic wyrmling familiar sniffs at his hair. Molly levers himself into a sitting position. Then he starts pulling the rings off his fingers, palming them, before reaching up to remove the clasp from his horn and the earrings that stave off cold. He unstraps the bracers, pulls the charms from around his neck and sets all this aside. Then he glares, gets to his feet, and turns his back on Caleb while he reaches up and tugs his shirt off over his head from the shoulders.

That way no one can see it while he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

Molly puts his ruined shirt on the table while he pulls the chainmail off, leaving on nothing but the thinner, sleeveless under-shirt he’s been using to pad the chainmail. The rings are still leaving marks in his skin. He’s not used to armor. Molly starts to pull his shredded tunic back on over his head when he feels Caleb start to move toward him again and –

Molly whips around, snarling, the words going Infernal in his throat: “Back off!”

Frumpkin the wyrmling starts to growl, but Caleb waves his quiet. There’s pause. So, Molly turns back around and finishes pulling his clothes back on. There’s an ache in his bounding heart now, a low panic like a current in his blood that makes him want to double over and start screaming for the frustration of it. The fucking unfairness and stupid cruelty of it. He straightens his shirt and pushes his hair out of his face, then turns to look at Caleb.

“What now?”

“That wasn’t intentional,” Caleb says.

“You sicced your giant bloody cat on me.”

“I warned you.”

“Oh. Well. Alright then. All’s forgiven.”

There’s a tense silence.

Then, “Follow me. Don’t try to run or Frumpkin will sit on you again.”

And then quite suddenly there’s an obvious doorway on the wall to Molly’s right. Caleb crosses the room and opens it, going through, not stopping to check if Molly follows. Probably because Frumpkin is now standing directly behind Molly, breathing static on his neck. Molly pauses to glance back up at the giant familiar. He literally has Molly’s cursed sword sheathes between his jaws like a grinning dog with a stick.

“Your boss is a bastard,” Molly says.

Frumpkin just blinks and nudges him in the shoulder.

“Fine.”

Molly follows Caleb.

Through the door is a long hallway, mostly featureless and should be cold for all the empty stone space, but the air seems to be magically regulated to a comfortable room temperature. The silence is broken only by the soft slap of boots against the floor and the terrible scraping clack of Frumpkin’s talons. They walk through the hall. Caleb keeps surreptitiously checking a dark metal pocket watch as they walk, but the face of it is blank and makes Molly’s eyes hurt to look at it directly.

“The others are looking for you,” Caleb says.

“You don’t seem worried. I would be.”

“I have time,” he says, pocketing the weird watch. “Jester’s young god still needs time.”

“Famous last words.”

Molly glances at a hanging tapestry on the wall nearby – a map of a land he doesn’t know. He’s certain now that he’s passed it a few times. He’s getting the impression that Caleb’s lair really does not obey any laws of physics and the only reason they’re moving through it at all has to do with the wizard himself. Frumpkin, once more, nudges at Molly’s shoulder. Like a border collie keeping a flock of one in line, confirming this really isn’t his first time playing guard dog to visitors.

“The others have told you I’m trying to end the world,” Caleb says.

“No.” Molly folds his arms across his chest, tail lashing anxiously around his boots. “They were very specific that’s not what you’re trying to do, just a possible side effect of what you’re trying to do. That’s what they told me.”

“Hmm,” Caleb says.

Molly feels a heat flare in his throat. “What?”

“I thought they’d lie a little more. I’m surprised.”

“Maybe you just think all your friends are against you when really they’ve been busy – you know – being crazy with grief or kidnapped by demi-gods. Which, by the way, I’m curious, did you try to get Fjord out of there?”

Caleb looks over his shoulder. “Of course. Did they tell you I didn’t?”

“No.” Molly rolls his eyes, leering for effect. “But you’re such a jackass right now…”

“No one could reach Fjord,” Caleb says plainly, blinking. “None of my magic meant anything in the face of that. Nothing short of a god could get close and the only god we had was Jester’s. Fjord was gone so long…” Caleb pauses. “I thought he’d be insane by the time we got him out or thralled to the Serpent.” Caleb’s eyes are unfocused, looking sidelong and away. “It seemed impossible he might still be him.”

Molly hesitates before saying, “Fjord’s stronger than you gave him credit for.”

“Maybe, or maybe he’ll turn on the others in due time. Jester has a blind spot for him. Always has. She would not accept that Fjord might be gone. She obsessed and no one could talk her down from it. Not Nott or Caduceus or anyone. Maybe Beau could have talked her down, but Beau was gone and Yasha was gone and so…” Caleb shrugs and looks forward again. “She was taken too.”

Molly tilts his head. “You say ‘taken’.”

“Yes. There’s a difference.”

“You sure?”

Caleb glances again at Molly. “Caduceus left me. He promised he’d never do that, but he did. He wasn’t taken by anything. Neither was Nott, but I don’t blame her. She was scared. I scared her.”

“You’re a moron,” Molly says.

“Thank you, Mollymauk. Nice to have you back.”

“You’re both morons,” Molly insists, bending at the waist a little to put some emphasis on it, really enunciate. “Caduceus stuck by you because he’s an optimist who couldn’t see you’ve got your head so far up your own asshole there’s no fuckin’ sunshine. Caleb, I’m here to tell you.” Molly cups his hands around his mouth. “Pull it the fuck out, mate! You’re going to end the world because you feel bad about Beau dying.”

“You act like you’re the first to tell me this.”

“I know I’m not the first, but since you won’t listen to literally anyone else, the gods brought me back from the bloody dead specifically, I think, to tell you to stop being a bastard stuffed bastard in bastard sauce and just stop.”

“I can see why the gods in their infinite wisdom decided to intervene and raise you from the dead.”

Molly spits. “I didn’t come back from the dead to persuade you of shit.”

“Apparently.”

“I’m not your conscience, Widogast.”

“You’re saying that like I ever thought that was the case.”

Molly folds his arms again, gripping his elbows in his hands and swallowing, glaring at the wall to distract himself from the slow crush of panic and futility coiling around him. It seems impossible he was in the Blooming Grove less than an hour ago. That he was laying in the grass, chatting with Caduceus. That he’d been surrounded, however briefly, by familiar faces and there was a plan, however, tenuous, as to how all this was going to end and now… he’s here. The shock of loneliness stings his throat and eyes all at once.

“You know, I’m not sure what I am, really.” Molly drags a palm across his face, pulling his hair from his brow again, wiping his eyes. “I thought my job was to get everyone together to, I don’t know, dogpile you until you stopped being a lunatic, but that doesn’t seem to be working.” He glances at Frumpkin who bares horrible fangs around belt and scabbard set in his mouth. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

“You got Fjord out,” Caleb says.

Molly blinks but Caleb doesn’t look at him, just keeps walking.

“It’s not your job to save us. You’re your own person. You don’t serve our purposes, Molly.”

“You can’t say that and hold me hostage, Widogast.”

“I know, but I’m a terrible person. Imagine someone better said it. It’s still true.”

Caleb’s hand is pressed against the wood of a heavy looking oak door. Molly can’t say when it was that the distance between the infinite hallway suddenly started to close, but it’s closed now and Caleb looks over his shoulder to meet Molly’s eyes. The wood beneath his hand is complex with runes and sigils, cut with some kind of arcane formula. It, like so many things in this place, ripples and changes before his eyes just looking at it. Caleb keeps staring at him, his burning stare inhuman and bright.

“Have they told you about Beauregard?” he says.

Dread drives a rod straight through Molly’s gut. His pulse rabbits fast.

“They told me a little. Like what she did, how she went down.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean have they told you about her. Do they talk about her?”

Molly hesitates. “If you mean, do they tell me funny stories about her, like what a shithead she was or the time she, I dunno, snorted oatmeal up her nose laughing at breakfast… no. They didn’t.”

“Ja. It’s hard for them.” He kind of looks away. “I remember her. I remember everything she ever said to me, actually.”

“Beauregard… she was pretty important to you.” Molly looks meaningfully around the giant mage-lair around him and the miniature dragon leering over his shoulder. “You’ve done a lot to save her. You’ve, well, you’ve pushed away everyone else who cares about you to do this. I can tell you’re dedicated but, speaking as a formerly dead person… you sure Beau would want to come back like this?”

“They didn’t tell you she became our leader, did they?” Caleb doesn’t wait for Molly to answer or acknowledge his previous question. “She told me once, that she had a reoccurring nightmare. In this dream, she’s standing on that cart on the Glory Run Road. She can’t move, her boots are frozen to the wagon wood while Lorenzo kills you.” Caleb’s looking at him with this strange expression, unreadable as a wall. “I don’t think she ever stopped having that nightmare.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Molly says.

“She called you ‘the best of us.’”

“Wow, okay.” Molly managed an exaggerated laugh. “That’s just because you didn’t know me very well and your bar was low back then. I should have told you all about this one time, in this port town, there was this thing with noodles –”

“It doesn’t matter,” Caleb cuts him off, visibly irritated. “It doesn’t matter that you’re an obnoxious, loud, carnival man that we barely knew. It doesn’t matter that we never really understood you, that you kept secrets, and died before we knew them. None of it matters because when you died, Beauregard regretted that it was you, instead of her.”

Molly stiffens a little, shoulders tensing. “Look, that’s a nice notion and all, but from what I’ve seen over and over, none of you much remember me like I was.” A beat. “Like I am.” Another beat. “Like I was before? Ah, fuck it…”

“Stop being flippant.”

“Sure. Stop holding me hostage.”

The wizard shakes his head, looking tired all at once. “You’re not going to listen to a word I’m saying, are you?”

“Caleb,” Molly says, “If you want me to listen, I would do that. You wanna sit down and have a cup of tea and talk? Great. I’d love that. Gossip is my thing. But I don’t think you’re trying to convince me of anything. I think you’ve already made some godawful decision and you’re just thinking out loud in my face.”

Caleb says nothing.

Just… stares at him.

It’s so strange. It’s Caleb, like it’s always been Caleb, just five degrees off Molly’s memory of the man – cleaner and more put together. He’s had a haircut and a proper shave. He looks like he should be on a council to something important somewhere, telling people to do things… but through every bit of that there’s still the fucking eyes. Just… empty and sad and resigned in exactly the same way he remembers but so much fucking deeper and blacker than that.

“I can’t talk to you,” Molly says softly, “if I’m a spell component and not a person to you.”

Caleb stares. “I don’t think you’re a spell component.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to know if you want to kill Beauregard.” He says it so blankly, so hallowed with exhaustion that it feels impossible that he’s been able to mask it until now. A deep festering despair in his voice that goes all the way down to the core of him as he laughs a little. “Because it seems now that everyone else in our little family has decided to kill her and it occurs to me that you, Mollymauk, might be the only one undecided on the issue.”

Molly doesn’t say a goddamn thing.

“Would you answer me?”

“It’s not as simple as –”

Caleb cuts him off saying, “Until I’m done asking questions, you should tell me the truth, Molly.”

And the suggestion takes hold of him. Gently. Not dominating but it slides over his tongue with such an easy familiarity Molly’s swallowed it before he can make even a token resistance and his shoulders kind of relax, tension easing out of his limbs for the first time since he was torn from the Blooming Grove. Caleb’s hand, holding something nonobtrusive at his hip, opens and he reaches up. It’s familiar. Molly lets him pat his cheek and thinks, unbidden, about Hupperdook and a very fucked up Caleb slurring, “Yeah. Th’only magical thing here… is you, friend.”

There’s something sticky on his palm. Smells like honey or…

“Just tell me what you think,” Caleb says.

“Okay.” Molly feels… strange, a little drunk almost but in a nice way, a mild anxiety in his breast that compels him say, “I don’t wanna kill, Beau. Bloody hell, of course I don’t.” It’s such a relief to say that, he goes on a little urgently. “Everyone is saying this is the right thing to do, but it makes my whole fucking body ache to think about. I don’t want to do it.”

“Do you think you can do it, if you had to? If it was down to you?”

“No.” The admission physically hurts to say aloud. Molly clenches his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

Caleb’s quiet for a moment.

Molly feels a hand on his head, pressed over his left ear, beneath the curl of his horn and he looks up at Caleb.

He looks strangely relieved. “Me too.”

“I’m not on your side, Caleb. It’s the wrong thing that I can’t do it. I can’t do it because I’m selfish and I don’t want to live with doing that to my friend… but I know it’s wrong.”

“I know.” Caleb laughs a little. “You feel poorly about that. I don’t. I’m not willing to kill Beau to save the world.” He shrugs. “I know its not fair or right, but she was… she really was the best of us. I can’t let her go like this.” He shakes his head, a wry smile suddenly on his lips. “This mistake. I don’t have to let it stand like the others.”

“Good people die all time,” Molly whispers. “The world’s not a fair place. It’s our job to make it fair as we can, but you can’t bloody do this.”

“My people don’t have to die,” Caleb says. “Not this good person.”

“Caleb, just stop—"

“You cared about Beau, yeah?”

“I died for her, didn’t I?”

Caleb studies his face and in his stare, Molly sees it – the bald-faced fact of it: He’s not looking at a man expecting to get away with anything. He’s not looking at someone with a tomorrow in mind. Then Caleb waves a hand and Molly feels the enchantment release its hold on his thoughts. It’s a cruel hand pulling a warm blanket off his shoulders and he’s standing in the sudden cold aftermath of the spell. All the compelled words sour suddenly on his tongue and a ripple of rage and grief lances through him simultaneously.

“I’m sorry. I needed to know where you really stood.”

And Caleb pushes the door open.

When he does, the air in the room rushes out. It’s freezing cold, turning Molly’s breath to fog instantly and penetrating him to the bone. He shivers, arms jumping up to tuck around his chest, his teeth chattering almost immediately in the artic chill. There’s light coming from the other room, cold and blue and anti-septic. It’s a large circular chamber, empty of everything, just stone walls etched in the same magical formula as the door except all the runes here glow gently blue, humming a slow two-two beat. Like a pulse.

Which makes sense because sitting the in the middle of the room, legs crossed, and facing them… is Beauregard.

She’s seated on a low stone dais. There is a barrier of blue light around the platform. The air glows around her, a vertical shaft of cold azure magic from floor to ceiling. She’s sitting as if in meditation, back straight, hands in her lap, eyes closed. She’s wiry and dark. Small and dense with muscle. Denser than he remembers. Her arms are probably bigger in the bicep than his now. Around her arms are silver bracers, smithed in the symbols of Ioun. There is blood on her fingers, on her knuckles, her lip split, her eye darkened with bruising and that… that makes her so familiar it turns something tense in Molly’s stomach.

Beau with a black eye.

Beau standing on the back of an ice-cracked wagon.

Beau screaming his name, her blue eyes wild in the dawn light, as Lorenzo –

“Why is she bloody?” Molly manages.

“She’s been like that since the day she struck down Oblivion,” says Caleb. He’s still got his hand on the door, his eyes on Beau. “Nothing touches her except divine magic. Caduceus and Jester used to heal the wounds, but they always return. Nothing we do stays. She always… goes back to the way she was in the moment she killed the Oblivion.”

Molly moves into the room. With every step toward Beau, the temperature drops, until Molly’s shivering so hard, Caleb must see it because he taps Molly on the shoulder and warmth slides through his clothes and insulates him in a thin layer of heat that makes his skin steam slightly in the freezing air. Molly moves close enough that he can see the light around her is not just light, but a thin, runic barrier – a magic layer of transparent blue writing so fine it looks like mist moving up and down the surface of the barrier wall.

“You can touch it,” Caleb says. “It only contains.”

Molly cautiously presses a palm against the magic and his hand cleaves lightly to it, like glass, like Beau’s a thing in a shop window he’s trying to see.

Molly can see now that the stone where she touches it is calcified and cracked, frozen as if by a spill of liquid nitrogen. Frost cakes the ground around the platform in shimmering white. The air near her is… humming. Shaking in Molly’s bones, buzzing down to the atoms that compose him. It feels awful and familiar all at once.

But he can see Beau clearly.

She is dressed in battle attire, or what remains of battle attire. The kind of thing you wear when you go to war for the gods.

Her long sleeveless jacket is shredded along the hem and shorn as if by a blade. The royal blue fabric is dark with blood which does not appear to have dried somehow. Her tunic is shredded open to the athletic small clothes beneath. There are etched and glowing bands around her arms, around her wrists, obsidian studs in her ear lobes that shimmer with enchantment. Her dark hair looks exactly as he recalls: shaved along the sides then knotted up at the top. Molly recognizes Yasha’s touch in the beads woven there in braids and plaits. There’s a tattoo of a posie beneath her right clavicle.

Molly’s throat knots up.

“Yasha and Beau…” Molly says, only after her gets his voice working. “Did Yasha—?”

“Marry Beau then lose her?” says Caleb. “Yes. On the same day in fact.”

Molly’s eyes burn. He clenches his hand shut against the barrier magic, leaning his weight against it. He can feel Caleb moving to stand at his right shoulder, watching him react but he doesn’t care. Frumpkin’s heavy footfalls place the dragon creature to his left, hovering protectively as Caleb touches Molly’s arm.

“Yasha won’t survive it.” His voice is certain and indifferent as sunset. “Losing her completely after Zuella—”

Molly knock his hand off his arm, yanking away. “Don’t!” Infernal heat laces his breath. “Don’t you try to use her—”

“You know I’m right.”

Molly pulls his hand from the barrier. “You want me to help you, don’t you? You’re trying to get me to help you.”

“No.” Caleb sounds sorry. “Just… confirming some things.”

He snaps his fingers and there’s a flare suddenly from the light barrier and the color of the runes, glowing faintly from every stone surface, changes suddenly to a deep, seething purple. Black steam immediately begins to burn off the sigils and Molly lunges back from Beau’s alter, hands up like he can defend himself from anything Caleb is doing. The wizard is ignoring him. He has some kind of crystal in his right hand suddenly and he’s drawing signs in the air with the fingers of his left hand. The signs stay there, like ghost writing, shivering with terrible potential energy. Like a bow string pulled taut except pulled through the whole fucking universe.

Frumpkin bumps into Molly’s back, his tail lashing in a sudden half-circle around him, penning him in suddenly, wings flaring up over head.

“I think the gods are on my side,” Caleb says, still casting his spell. The crystal in his hand disintegrates to dust and he waves a hand. Summons a blade from somewhere and uses it to slice open his left forearm, but doesn’t stop casting. “I was hasty before. I didn’t see it.” Blood splatters the floor. “All the spells to bring Beau back are so complicated without sentient sacrifice. Willing sentient sacrifice. I’ve had to build workarounds. So time consuming but now it’s so simple…”

“I’m not dying for your bloody spell!” Molly snarls.

“You already did.” Caleb looks over his shoulder. “You died for Beau ten years ago and not just a little; you died a true death. You were dead of a different kind. The kind that matters and makes gods intervene.” There’s a smile then, on Caleb’s lips, both sad and victorious. “That magic is forever, Mollymauk.”

Light flares blinding from Caleb’s fingers, igniting the blood on the flood so it burns white and evaporates into a red steam. Caleb closes his eyes. He breathes in and the crimson effluvium disappears down the wizard’s throat and when he opens his eyes, they’re burning red as a blood-letting sunset. He turns and presses both hands against the barrier wall that holds Beauregard in. Red light injects itself into the magic, spreading out like a cancer along the surface of it.

Molly feels a pull. Not on his body but a pull he’s come to know in the transition between life and death. Every time Vax’ildan sends him to and from the plane between realms– something is pulling on his soul.

“Caleb!” Molly feels that pull again, hideous and cold and Molly hits the floor on his knees, clutching uselessly at his chest. “Fuck! Stop! Stop!”

“It’s okay, you won’t lose your soul,” Caleb says. “I just need it here…”

There’s a flare from the barrier wall and Molly screams as the light seems to shove himself out of his flesh and the sliding back in feels like falling into a solid slab of screaming nerve and blood and it hurts. It hurts. Molly’s doubled over on the floor, arms knotted around his body, tail curled around himself. This spell has no guiding touch on it. No raven knight errant gentling the transition between astral and material and its like dying a little over and over. Nauseating and awful.

“I’m sorry. Most sacrifices are dead when this is happening.”

“Oh really?” Molly grits, getting one knee under him.

“Just a little longer,” Caleb murmurs. “It’s just a little farther—”

Molly doesn’t let him finish. He snaps his fingers.

Instantly, there’s a flash of light from Frumpkin’s mouth as the empty scabbards in his jaws ignite with conjuration magic. Frumpkin’s head jerks back, the dragonling snarling in surprise. But before anyone can lift a finger, Molly pivots around and lunges at him, faster than he can remember moving in his life… and his fist closes around something solid. He dive-rolls past the familiar, tearing the scimitar from its scabbard. Molly spins up, sword in hand, breathing frantic.

Caleb is glaring at him.

“Stop fucking around.” There is a dark and throaty edge to his Zemnian accent. His eyes flare in his skull, burning brighter, fixed on Molly. “You think you’re going to fight me, Mollymauk?”

“No.” He shakes his head, breathing fast and shallow. “No, I can’t fight you.”

“I know this has been… confusing.” There’s blue flame gathering in the man’s hand. “It’s an admirable instinct, but—”

Molly reverses the sword. An easy, almost casual flip of the blade in a two-handed grip, and sets it point-first against his own sternum. No hesitation. No time. The hit at first: like being punched, the breath driven from his body, then the pain (the feeling Lorenzo taught him ten years ago on the Glory Run Road). Mollymauk shoves it through his ribcage and—

He wakes up standing on a hill beneath the shining moon.

He’s clutching his breastbone, fists stacked where the hilt of a blade was driven in the Material plane. The moonlight is shining, shimmering on his skin like a sheen of diamond dust on his knuckles. Molly stumbles. His knees give out but before he can fall, he’s suddenly tackled as a blur of blue and skirts and arcane light bursts into existence and lunges at him. He collapses against them, arms seizing instinctively around their neck and their hair is silky, chiming with silver, and smells like carnival caramel when he breathes in.

“Jester!” Molly clutches her, fingers sinking into her hair, hooking his elbow around the back of her neck as she laughs and hugs him back. “Bloody hell.” He plants a big kiss in her hair, catching the curve of her ear. “Fools flock together huh?”

“Molly! Molly! Fuck! Shit!” She’s kind of crushing his ribs. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? How’d you—?”

“Caleb didn’t kill me,” Molly whispers. He hugs her more tightly. “I did it myself.”

Jester freezes. Her fingers dig more tightly into his shoulder.

“S’alright, Jes.” He tries to laugh, but it’s not very convincing. “I’m a one trick tiefling.”

“Can you go back?” Jester whispers. “Molly, were you with Caleb? I can break through another way, but if you can go back–”

Molly pulls back, lets Jester cup his face in shaky fingers. “Caduceus put the Death Ward on me.”

Jester nods. Her eyes brim bright with tears, her pretty white teeth biting at her lower lip. Molly carefully mirrors her, fitting his hands around her dark, heart-shaped face. She starts to say something, but it comes out a sob, so Molly just drops his brow against hers and stays that way for a moment. Feels her tail lash protectively around his right knee, her fingers sink a little more deeply into his hair.

She murmurs, not words, but a low Infernal subvocalization that has no translation into the common languages of the realm – it just means… sadness, sadness, rage, regret.

“Tell me about it,” Molly says in kind.

Jester moves her hands down his neck, to his shoulders, his arms, taking his hands in hers.

“I’ll do it, Molly.” She squeezes tight. “I can stop him.”

“I know.”

A voice over his shoulder says, softly, “You will have half a moment.”

Molly smells dust, old soil, the faint scent of decay – not of flesh but some older less transient material. Jester tucks herself close to his side, gripping his arm tight and it hurts how much strength he can draw from that. Molly turns. Vax’ildan stands again on the hill with them, beautiful and familiar, but unlike every time before… Molly can feel the eeriness in the Raven Queen’s champion. The size of him suddenly astronomical behind his physical presentation.

There’s darkness rising from his shoulders, a strange canopy that stretches up from his back and spreads out in translucent gloom. Molly hears the rustle of wings, of feathers, of a thousand, ten thousand ravens taking wing. When he looks up, he realizes the darkness is merely the massive arch… no… just the shadow of two leviathan wings. Vax moves forward and the moonlight avoids him where walks. Molly doesn’t flinch, even when he fits both palms to either side of Molly’s face and lifts his eyes.

“ I can give strength you don’t remember, Mollymauk. But that’s all I can do. Are you ready?”

Molly pauses, then, “Kiss for luck?”

Vax’ildan – wreathed in darkness, gaze holding the mass of collapsed stars, the voice of the Raven Queen on his tongue – gives him a look. Then rolls his eyes and says, amused, “Fuck it. Kiss for luck.”

Then he leans down, tilting his head and kisses Molly gently on the mouth.

And Molly opens his eyes.

He’s standing in the same room, holding the scimitar point first against his chest, in the precursor of killing himself. There’s blood all over his forearms, his hands, and soaked through his tunic. But he’s still on his feet and Caleb is staring at him with this… startled expression. Eyes wide, mouth open as if in the middle of saying something. He’s still got one hand against the burning red magic that’s holding Beau, the other hand kind of raised in the attitude reaching or casting.

He looks frightened. That fades though as Molly releases his grip on the blade and it clatters to the floor. Molly exhales, his breath a silvery cloud and he backs up a little, shaking his head at if to clear it.

“Why did you do that?” Caleb says blankly. “Killing yourself won’t make a difference.”

“It did to me,” Molly pants.

“Please, don’t do that.”

Molly stares at him. “Caleb, I wish I could I say I’m sorry about this… but you’ve been an asshole.”

And that’s when Jester – stepping out of the ether like a woman stepping through a door – grabs the wizard from behind and punches him. It’s not, like, a ‘how dare you slap’. She snatches his collar in one hand, rears all the way back, and cracks him across the jaw with the other. Caleb staggers, shoulder slamming against the barrier wall. He scrabbles at the wall, visibly struggles to stay conscious through what is certainly a concussion and a broken jaw. Jester doesn’t give him the time. She raises one hand over her shoulder. A massive lollipop bursts into existence – pink and white and brilliant with ribbons. Then she takes the handle in both hands and she swings.

She hits him like a kid playing stick ball.

There’s an arcane flare – of magic hitting magic and Molly feels it as unmovable object meets unstoppable force. The lollipop hammers a defensive spell Molly has no understanding of and the impact ignites the air in blinding radiance. Molly is knocked to one knee by the shock wave alone. A body launches from the center of the room like a rachet ball and then slam into the far wall like a rag doll. It’s definitely Caleb. He hits the floor in a heap, a swirl of passive magic siphoning around his body.

Frumpkin, by then, has finished tearing across the room and lunges at Jester, jaws full of lightning –

“Bad kitty!” she screams.

Her eyes flare white and Frumpkin poofs out of existence.

Caleb seems to be regaining consciousness. He shudders and levers himself up on one elbow, head hanging low as he sways dizzily. He coughs blood, red splattering the flag stones. There’s blood in his hair at the back of his head. He can’t seem to orient himself or speak, suggesting that his skull might be cracked so badly its costing him basic functionality. He tries, with difficulty, to lift his head. His eyes are flickering erratically, brightening and dimming, like a circuit is shorting in him.

Jester, again, does not wait. She disappears then reappears standing directly over him.

She doesn’t say a damn thing.

She just raises a hand and with a flare a soft orb of pink magic blooms around her, encasing herself and Caleb. Immediately the passive magicks moving around Caleb go dormant and disappear. Over her shoulder, the massive lollipop rests like a mace in her hand. Invisible winds disturb her hair and skirts. Her eyes burn green in the iris and she just… waits. Because Caleb is bleeding out at her feet, fast losing consciousness in the neutral bubble of her anti-magic field.

Still he manages, “Jes…ter…?”

“Where is Caduceus?” she says. But when she speaks, her voice quavers. Water drips from her chin. “Did you kill him, Caleb?”

“Nev… I’d never…”

He can’t finish the sentence.

Jester covers her mouth with one hand, eyes squeezing shut, and Caleb slumps unconscious on the floor. For a moment, there’s just silence. Blood freezing on the cold stone floor. Then Jester dismisses the spiritual weapon and drops to her knees. She fits her hands to Caleb’s bleeding head. She combs the bloody hair from the ugly split in his skull and magic begins to sink gingerly into the wound. She’s whispering something softly, like a refrain.

Eventually, Molly moves to kneel with her inside the dome.

“He’ll be okay,” she says, attempting cheerfulness as tears overrun her eyes. “He’ll be okay. I’m asking the Traveler to break some of the… the forbiddance spells around the keep. The others will be here soon. We’ll be okay.” She chokes a little on her own voice. “Everyone’s back together.” Her fingers close in the back of Caleb’s robes, the magic dissipating from her fingers, and that’s when Molly loops his arms around her. She grabs his shirt, clinging suddenly, something building in her chest until she blurts, crying, “What did we do wrong, Molly?”

“Nothing.”

He cradles her head, rocking a little as she starts to sob.

“We tried so hard!”

“I know.”

Jester is wailing now, just gut-wrenching heaves against Molly’s shoulder. “I miss her so much!” She can’t seem to breathe, giving in entirely to ugly crying, almost hiccupping. “I miss Beau! She said we needed to take care of each other and we didn’t.”

“Hey, the world asked a lot from you. S’not your fault if you didn’t do every damn thing on the list.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Shh, stop it. It’s over,” Molly murmurs, hugging her closer. “It’s over, Jes.”

Jester just keeps crying until it seems like she may never stop, but even as he begins to think this, there is a sudden rush of warm wind and the scent of… of somewhere else. Somewhere green and summer-y, sap-sticky, and hot against the skin and Molly feels someone step into the space to his left and kneel. There’s no one there of course, but Molly sees it when Jester’s hair moves a little, an invisible hand tucking strands behind her ear and only then does her wailing become a sniffle.

“I know, but I didn’t want it to be this way,” she says loudly to no one.

Molly feels that murmur of wind again, so comforting it wipes away the cold of the room.

“You promise?” Jester says, looking up at the empty air.

And there’s a chuckle, resonate and deep. Molly gets the impression of the ‘yes’ and a whisper like a cloak against his shoulder, passing by.

And Jester turns to Molly and says, “It’ll be okay. I’m okay.”

Molly gives the room a wary once over. “You sure?”

Jester starts to smile. “We can fix it. It’s… it’s going to be—”

“Finally,” says a voice.

The word splits through Molly’s skull like a nail through the roof of his mouth. He’s on the floor before he can process anything farther, his every limb locked up around a sucker punch that didn’t happen. Dizzy, he struggles to lift his forehead from the ground, but the voice goes on like a tuning fork jammed inside his brain.

“Hey, man. Don’t run, I have some questions for you.”

Molly manages to lift his head. His vision is splitting, going dark around the edges. It hurts to look.

But, there in the middle of the room, Beauregard is standing. The barrier spell around her is gone. She’s stepped half way down from her dais, one foot sill up on the platform, the other on the floor in the attitude of descending a short flight of stairs. Her body is on fire. A pillar of blue and black flame sheathes her skin, billowing the torn edges of her jacket.

She’s looking at something forward and slightly to her left.

Her left arm is extended and her fist closed around something Molly can’t see. Her arm jerks slightly, like something is fighting her hold but she’s smiling this kind of confused, mildly annoyed smile. Like someone is being a little rude at a dinner party or something and she steps down fully. Ice bursts across the floor where her feet touch the stone, the temperature in the room going sub-zero and Molly knows without knowing that if the anti-magic field drops, they’re going to get the brunt of it.

“Wow. Stop spazzing out. I just want to talk,” Beau is saying in that awkward friendly-but-I’m-kind-of-faking-it voice she does when she’s working at being a person to someone she’d rather punch. “Hey. Listen, buddy. This isn’t like before. I’m something else and I need to ask you some stuff.”

And suddenly there’s someone standing in front of her. They’re struggling to get away from Beauregard, who has one iron-fingered grip viced relentlessly around their wrist.

They’re the size of a regular person, tall, slender, arguably a male build. Their skin is strange and iridescent and glowing faintly with a dim greenish warmth that penetrates the cold around them. They are dressed in adventurer’s finery – good boots, a clean blue tunic… and a long, long forest-green cloak that’s pulled up over their head and shadows everything but the lower half of their face.

Jester, seeing this, screams in horror.

But Beauregard doesn’t seem to hear. Her focus is entirely on The Traveler. She uses her free hand to grab a fistful of their cloak and drag them closer.

“I’m trying to be nice here,” she says, exasperated when her captive shoves a hand against her chest. “I’m a new god too, you know. We should stick together.” The Traveler doesn’t say anything, just bares their teeth and light flares through their body, snapping through Beauregard like a blow that knocks her face to the left. “Fucking. Rude,” she says, glaring down at the other god in front of her. “Stop it.”

“I don’t have answers for you,” says the Traveler. His voice cuts through the disharmonics from the other god, dragging a swath of relief through the room allowing the mortals there to breathe again. “I didn’t kill a god to become one.” A smile pulls briefly at his mouth, wry, and fiercely proud. “I found a faith stronger than any in the world and she believed in me. I don’t know what you are, half god. You are not like me.”

Beau-Who-Is-Not-Beau thinks about that.

Her eyes, Molly notices now, are pitch black hollows full of nothing.

“You’re right. Duh. I need to talk to her.” She thinks about it some more, then looks suddenly toward the two tieflings huddled together against the wall. “Hey, Molly. You know Vax’ildan, right?”

“Oh no,” Jester whispers.

“I wanna talk to his boss,” Beau says. “Can you tell him that?”

Then she smiles at Molly… and of course it kills him instantly.

#critical role #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #the mighty nein #critrole #long post #this one goes up to eleven

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winstonhcomedy · 5 years ago

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“Dope A-F” - 8/15 -8/19 - “ Pet Lovers, Crushing Defeats, and Homecoming”

I missed my deadline on Sunday which isn’t great, but oh well! I am so happy I got most of my stuff done. I only didn’t do the IG video (because honestly I have no idea what I’m going to do for that) and my blog post because I couldn’t get my internet to work! But so far this week I am 2 for 2 ! Hooray! So let’s hop right into it.

8/15

After work I headed straight to the venue. Tonight’s show was going to be a Kindred Spirit. I was closing it out. I was looking forward to getting a bite at the food truck, and doing some comedy. The brewery is pretty big, and it is not super conducive to comedy, but I have always had a pretty good set here.

I get to the venue and since it had been raining the food truck cancelled. Which is a huge bummer. So I just kind of sit around and wait for other comedians to show up so I am not chilling out starving.

After a while a few comics show up. Aaron Shoemaker was going to be hosting, then a dude who has only done comedy once showed up and I think his name was Richard. Aaron and I catch up and talk as the other comics arrive. The other comics on the show were Will Minor, Stella Naulo, Alida Harper, and Ry Mather.

The turnout is less than usual at these shows. I think it is due to the weather. The charity we are raising money for is Goochland Pet Lovers. The show is running a little late, but nothing too crazy. The biggest thing is how new all of the comics are. I have only been doing comedy 4 years and I have been doing it longer than the rest of them combined.

The show starts and Aaron goes up to host. The crowd is kind of weird. They are pretty tight and they aren’t really digging anyone’s jokes. Some people are bombing, but others are at least doing ok. Stella did a little crowd work and that did well, but when she transitioned to her material it was just the same response everyone else had gotten.

I wanted to do well, but I was hungry and honestly didn’t really feel like I had the ability to do well. I decided I was just going to try and have fun and only do crowd work. Which I did for about 30 minutes. I had an extremely good set! Especially with how the room was. I actually got to talk about politics in a center right room and able to make the super republican dude in the crowd laugh. I was doing callbacks and able to jump back and forth between audience members.

Honestly it felt so good. Shows like this serve as a reminder to me the importance of being able to do crowd work. I am so glad I make myself write, and try material out at open mics. I do not want to be the dude who only does crowd work, but I love being the dude that if I need/want to I can only do crowd work.

I think the highlight was a table of 2 parents and 3 young adults. I was able to talk about their time in college, and joke about where they go/are going to school. It got some huge laughs. I also had a dude come up on stage with me in the first 10 minutes. He was just a drunk dude who had a lot of money. We joked back and forth, and he legit came across as insane. This was one of the most nuts shows I have ever done. I’d give it an A-.

I got off stage and met some people, and got my free beer from the venue to go. I talk to the comics for a bit and make sure I grabbed my mic stand (used it because the one they had was shit) before heading out. I got home and passed out because after long sets I get super tired.

8/16

The next day after work I headed up to DC. I was in the Comedy Kumite competition in the DC Improv lounge. I get up there and Alex Castagne and I meet up to walk and talk for a bit. He is on a show at Shaw’s Tavern.

After walking for a while we go our separate ways and I get to the club. The lineup for the show’s look like it is going to be fun. I am going against Kasha Patel in the first show and then Wendy Wrobleski in the second show.

We get a good hang going before the first one. Max Wolfson, Ross Benoit, Kasha, Lawrence Killebrew (Atlanta), Kevin Seefried, Simone, Wendy, and myself.

The show starts and the first two rounds of the first show were going great. Kevin, Simone, Ross, and Lawrence all murdered. I was so excited and then I went up. We did rock paper scissors to determine who goes first and I lost so she picked me.

I ate a massive dong on stage. I did ok, but the room was so hot. They hated my teaching material and I disappointed myself. I’d give this set an F. I truly hated it. Then Kasha went up next and she had an ok set. Honestly neither of us really killed.

They then did audience reaction and we tied. Then they did it again and I lost. Knocked out in the first round sucks. It reminded me why I really hate comedy competitions. I put too much pressure on myself, and if you lose it is impossible to not feel hurt.

So I spent the rest of the first show getting into my own head, and being upset with myself. I hung with the other comics and after the first show we headed to Shake Shack. I grabbed my milkshake and went back to the Improv to see Alex for a bit. Benjy Himmelfarb and Dee Ahmed are there as well. We talk a bit before I head inside to get ready for the second show.

The second show starts and Wendy and I are the first match. We go up and I lose rock, paper, scissors again and get started. I have a much improved set. I do crowd work and jokes. Everything is working and I am riffing just trying to get anything to land. It felt so good to recover and be able to have a good set. I’ d give this set a B. Which for the first set is definitely dope.

Then Wendy goes up and she has a good set too. I really respect her as a comedian. She gets laughs, but isn’t destroying. All in all a really good set. They bring us back up and do audience response and I lose again. This one hurt for a different reason. The first show I had a bad set, and I felt like I deserved to lose. This set was different. I gave it my all and I don’t think I could have done better with this crowd. I am just super upset with myself. It is also pretty early and I am all kinds of in my feels. I miss my dad, I am kind of sick, I am starving, and honestly just want to go home.

I go to leave and cancel my spot at Big Hunt. I just wasn’t in the right headspace for this (I will never bail on a set again). Looking back I”m mad I did this, but honestly if my mind was telling me to go I am glad I did. I ended up being so tired on my way home I stayed at TJs. I got there and passed out immediately. I had a show tomorrow headlining in my hometown and I needed to get out of my own head.

8/17

I woke up the next day and started to head to Farmville to headline The Brew House. I stopped a few times on my way since it was a close to 3 1/2 hour drive. I stopped at a diner and had a pretty good meal but some piss poor service. I also stopped at a Sheetz for a frozen lemonade which hit the spot.

When I got into town I parked and walked to Charley’s Waterfront Cafe so I could have a bowl of their Roasted Red Pepper and Crab soup. This was one of my favorite meals when I was younger. I haven’t had it in about 10 years so it was really awesome to go back.

I then headed to The Brew House and met up with Liz. Liz had booked this show after how much fun the show in Blackstone was. Her and I hung and talked a bit before her and a friend went walking around Main Street.

Then I started to see all of the locals I had grown up with and knew through my time in high school Tracey Carilli and her husband Tony were there. I got to talk to Tracey for a long time. It was super nice to catch up with her. Then Judy Ellington and Julie Adams showed up. Then it was like nonstop. I had Johnny Ellington, Jason, the Meadows, Michelle Wheeler, Michaela Atkinson, Branden Bolt, Jacob Mercier, Ryan Sharpe, Jackie Montego-Sharpe, Dusty Grey, Rebecca Ragland Grey, the Carters, Andy Ellington, Susan Johnson, Carson Johnson, Sierra Smith, and I am sure I am missing some. I know these names mean nothing to you guys, but it meant the world to me that people who made a large impact in my life as a child/young adult came to support me.

There was a line out the door to come in at 7:30. We had to start late so people could get seated. I knew about 1/3 of the audience and the rest were just people looking to catch the show and grab a bite to eat.

Jason Kusterer and Anthony Thompson showed up a bit before showtime. Then Liz found out they didn’t have a PA so we had to go grab mine out of my car and set everything up while people filed in. I could tell it was going to be a rowdy crowd but I was ready.

The show started and Liz went up and let everyone know it was going to be an adult show. She got everyone to yell their favorite curse word. She then went into her set and she did a fine job hosting. After her was Kusterer who started out pretty strong, but lost the crowd after a joke about suicide by cop. Then Anthony went up and tried to deal with how loud the room was. They were about half paying attention and the rest were just talking and being super loud and drunk.

It was a tough room, but he did a good job. He did a good amount of material and addressed them in spots. He kept them paying attention, and walked around the crowd a bit. He held the show together, and got some pretty big laughs which was dope to see.

Then it was my turn. I felt a ton of pressure to succeed. I was worried they’d all hate it, but I just went for it. I did about 33 minutes and 20 of it was crowd work. I worked the crowd, and did some local crowd work as well (which feels like cheating, and an advantage I had over the other comics). I was able to tie it in to talking to a few teachers I didn’t know. One was a lady who was talking all night. She was an English teacher who made her students put Beowulf on trial. I kept busting her balls on that. Then there was a history teacher who had a crush on Thomas Jefferson and I was really able to play off of both of them.

It was a super fun set. I had some lulls in the middle when I switched to material and realized that is not what this crowd wanted. The 1/3 that I knew paid attention and dug the material while the other 2/3 were just kind of drunk townies who wanted me to interact with them. So I went back to crowd work when I lost some steam. The last 10 minutes was crowd work and me trying new jokes because it was a free show. The people enjoyed it but I did not close as strong as I wished. I’d give this set a B/B-.

I got off feeling weird, but got to catch up with everyone. It was so nice and everyone was so supportive. I am sure they liked it as much as they did because they care about me, but either way the whole crowd was entertained. I felt like I did my job as a headliner, and I think its a good sign I wanted to do better. it is good to know I can work these rooms, but I wish I had gotten to do more material.

After everyone left I got to hang with Kusterer and Anthony for a bit. We talked about our sets and comedy. We talked about small towns like this, and the type of show it was. We had a blast hanging out. They left and I finished my drink. I then hopped in my car and headed home to get a good nights rest.

8/18

This was my day off. I kind of relaxed, ate, and saw Toy Story 4. I hung out with my mom and started watching Avengers End Game. I am most upset that I didn't use my time wisely this day. I wasn’t able to get an IG video for Saturday or my blog post up for Sunday. So one week in and I already messed it up. Which is ok. I am just going to have to try harder this week.

8/19

After work I headed up to the Southern in Charlottesville for the open mic. I had a few new tags and stuff I really wanted to do. I felt weird all day, and honestly my mental health isn’t the best. I’m glad that tomorrow I get to go to therapy. I need to find a way to afford it weekly again, but for right now that is not a possibility. I am hoping some more comedy gigs, and some better luck I can build my savings back up.

I get there and Kusterer, Patrick Nowaczyk, Ry Mather, and Tom Hall are already there. I go inside and throw my stuff down and say hi to Danny. Then Heather walks in. I rode some grilled cheese bites from Shawn, and sit down to talk.

It was super fun catching up and hearing what everyone had been up to. Tom started a new job, Pat broke his arm, and a bunch of other shit. Then Paige came in wearing a new outfit. He had a shark hat that I’d never seen before, but definitely has a Paige vibe.

Then a bunch of comics rolled up. Jack Gerow, John Marg, Luzader, Sam Wood, Sammy Major, Keaton Ray, JR, Johnny Rad, Shane Hill, Alex Castagne, and Chris. I kept popping in and out of different groups joking and catching up. We had the comics meeting and I found out I was 10th. I was between Luzader and JR.

The crowd was an ok size. Not bad. better than the last few at least. A dude with a service dog came inside and Chris started joking about it right away during his set. Which was awesome. They loved it, and it really got the audience as loose as we could get them.

When the show kept going there were a few good sets, but for the most part it felt like everybody was tight. No one was offended, and no one left early. They just would rather politely smile at an offensive joke and hold back the laughs.

Alex had a strong set for the room, and so did Paige. Ry Mather had one of the better sets I’ve seen him have and it was cool to watch Kusterer open up and try some newer stuff in front of a different crowd.

It was my turn and I feel pretty good about the set. I joked and riffed around. I told a super offensive joke that I only do off stage. That was fun. I tried some new tags to 2 or 3 jokes and they worked for the most part. I tried a more rapid fire delivery, but it screwed with my rhythm a little bit. So that was good to find out. I also riffed a character of a dude who is a conspiracy theorist but he thinks that more than 6 million jews died in the Holocaust. He believes it was 12. So he isn’t a Holocaust denier is a Holocaust multiplier. I’d give my set a C- but it was a super fun C-.

I hung out for the rest of the show and had a good time. We were lighting Johnny Rad during his set, and he got a little salty and called Chris a dumbass. It was awesome. It was like watching someone yell at their dad.

The show ended and I headed straight home. I was feeling pretty depressed. I am very disillusioned with comedy. I feel stuck. Not just physically, but also my career. I need to stick around for a bit after dad’s passing, but at the same time I am so worried I am using it as an excuse to not move.

We did it! I got caught up in time for the Tuesday blog post! Thanks for reading laydees and baybees ! I love you all very much! Make sure to check out all of my content on youtube, IG, and twitter! I am trying to kill the game! xoxo til next time

#comedy #jokes #standup #loss #grief #death #homecoming #family #friends #high school #improv #dc #rva #cville

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zoeykaytesmom · 6 years ago

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What is Life (Chapter 14)

@esparza-army @lostintech0011001 @thatesparzacrush @jramirezblogs @tropes-and-tales @barbafan69 @sweetsummertime99 @lyssa1385 @xemopeachx @eclecticdeersuit

“How was your session?” Stella asked when Izzy came in one afternoon in February 97.

“Uh, pretty good. Dr. Tegu seems to think I’ve made some progress.”

“Good. Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Rafael said he might be able to come in, he wasn’t sure yet.”

“How are things going with you guys?”

“Uh…pretty good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Mom. Why?”

“The last time he came in, there seemed to be a shift between the two of you.”

“Like how?”

“There was just something different going on. Everything okay…sexually?”

“MA!!”

“I’m just asking if everything is okay. What the two of you went through, your depression…”

“Honestly? We’ve had sex twice in the last few months and those two times, it was mainly because I just felt bad for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been so patient with me through all this. He deserved something.”

“Honey you don’t have sex with Rafael because you think he ‘deserves’ it.”

“I know. I just haven’t…Dr. Tegu said it’s normal for my sex drive to be low with everything that’s happened and not to mention this medicine I’m on.”

“Can I ask you something and you answer me honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still love him?”

“I have since I was 15. I just don’t know if he feels the same anymore.”

“I think, if he comes in for Valentine’s Day, the two of you need to sit down and really talk. I know you talked at Christmas when he was here but I think you really need to talk.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m not trying to put any pressure on you but have you given any thought about finishing your senior year of college?”

“A little,” she shrugged. “I thought about applying to Boston University actually.”

“Really? That’s only, what 20 minutes, from Harvard?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I might stay here and go to NYU.”

“I think your dad would appreciate that more,” Stella teased. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest?”

***********

After therapy, Izzy went for a quick workout, a small lunch, and home to an empty house on Valentine’s Day. Her dad had left that morning for his shift at the fire station while Stella was at work herself. Rafael had told Izzy he still wasn’t sure if he was going to make it home that weekend, which she understood as he did have a job at the Harvard bookstore so she wasn’t too upset if he couldn’t.

She went upstairs to take a shower and change.

Just as she got her clothes on, the doorbell started ringing.

“I’m coming!!” She yelled as she made her way down the stairs. She opened the door only to be met with a bouquet of pink roses practically in her face. “What the…”

“Did you really think I was going to miss our first actual Valentine’s day?”

“Rafa. What are you…I can’t believe…”

“You should know better, mi amor. So, do I get a kiss or are you just going to leave me standing…alone in a world that’s so cold?”

“You’re an idiot,” she laughed at his not so subtle Prince lyric as she gently grabbed his neck and pulled her to him.

“I have missed that and I have missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. Does your parents know you’re here?”

“I told Mami I was coming in. I told her we might come by tomorrow.”

“You know, my mom won’t be home for a few more hours.”

“Really?”

“It’s only 1:00.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with a smile as she took his hand and they practically ran up the stairs to her room.

The last two times, she hadn’t really enjoyed sex but that afternoon, in that same bed they did it for the first time ever, she felt amazing. It was the best she had felt in months, actually. The way he looked at her as he slowly moved in and out of her.

She would moan is name as he kissed her neck, pressing his pelvis just right against her clit to make her come. His face was buried in her hair, the smell of coconut flooding his nose as he was getting closer while moaning her name as well.

“That…was wonderful,” she smiled as she laid on his chest and fiddled with his crucifix.

“Beats jerking off in the shower,” he teased.

“Rafael!” She laughed as she playfully slapped his bare chest.

“Ow!! That’s gonna leave a mark for sure.”

“So, what do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

“Izz!!!!! I’m home!!!!” Stella called from downstairs.

“Get dressed for one!” Rafael said as he practically jumped out of her bed and started hunting his clothes.

“Izz?!”

“Where are my boxers?”

“I don’t know!”

“You took them off of me!”

“Elizabeth Machelle?!”

“Upstairs, Ma!!”

“Oh, just give away our position.”

“Stay here, find your clothes, and I’ll be back.”

She had thrown on her nearest pjs and left her room.

“What took you so long?”

“I was sleeping.”

“Oh. Where’d the roses come from?”

“Rafael.”

“I see. Is he upstairs?”

“Yeah,” she blushed.

“Tell him to hurry up and get his clothes on and unload my groceries.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she laughed as she went back upstairs.

**********

By the time she got in her room, Rafael had found his clothes and Izzy relayed the message. He did as he was asked, without looking Stella in the eye.

“Rafael, you guys had a baby together. I know you have sex,” Stella teased as she grabbed a bag of carrots from him.

“Sorry.”

“So, what do you two have planned tonight?”

“Maybe a movie. Dinner,” Rafael told her.

“That sounds like fun.”

“Are you not upset that Pop didn’t get off tonight?”

“Nah, Izz. When you’ve been married as long as we have, you don’t need one day to celebrate your love. You two will figure that out one day.”

*************

“Can we go by…”

“You don’t even have to ask, cariño,” Rafael told her as they got into her car after finding a movie to go see.

They got to the Bronx after having stopped by a bodega, picking up a tiny mylar heart shaped balloon on a stick and a pink rose for their daughter.

They were more than surprised when they walked up to find his father sitting on the bench Anthony had placed next to the grave of his granddaughter.

“Ojalá te hubiera conocido, princesa. Aunque sea por una hora. Tu papá estaba tan enamorado de ti antes de nacer. Él hubiera sido un padre mejor que yo para él, sólo lo sé. No debí tratarlo a él o a tu madre como yo lo hice. Fuiste un regalo. Sólo desearía que hubieran tenido la oportunidad de ver cuán grande es el regalo que eras (I wish I could've met you, princess. Even if only for an hour. Your Daddy was so in love with you before you were born. He would've been such a better father than I was to him, I just know it. I shouldn't have treated him or your mother the way I did. You were a gift. I just wish they would've had the chance to see how big of a gift you were).”

They watched as he seemingly wiped tears from his eyes.

“Cuida de ellos por mí. Se han amado desde que eran niños. Les prometo que si son bendecidos con hermanos o hermanas, seré un buen abuelo para ellos (Watch over them for me. They have loved each other since they were kids. I promise that if you are blessed with brothers or sisters, I will be a good grandfather to them).”

Izzy couldn’t help but tear up. She understood most of what he said and even though she held nothing but contempt for the man for many years, she could see he was heartbroken. She didn’t know how many times he had came or if that was his first time since the funeral but it didn’t matter.

“Dad?”

“Oh, uh, Raf…ahem…I was just…I just was coming out here…”

Both Barba men just stood looking at each other. Luis was maybe two inches taller than Rafael but he had always seemed so much bigger to him.

Without a word, Luis wrapped his arms around his son and hugged him for the first time in years. “I am so sorry, mijo. I should’ve said it sooner.”

Rafael was at a loss for words. Izzy just sort of stood there amazed at what she was seeing. In all the years she had known Rafael, she had never seen his father show any kind of affection towards him.

She was even more shocked when he let go of his son and pulled her into him. “You would’ve been a wonderful mother. I just know it.”

“Thank you, Luis,” she managed to choke out.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Come by tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rafael said, still a little confused. They watched as Luis exited the cemetery and Izzy sat on the bench while Rafael stuck the balloon in the ground and laid the rose next to it.

“Anything you want to say, mi amor?”

“We miss you, Charli. I can only imagine what you’d be like right now.”

“You’d be beautiful like your mom,” Rafael said as he sat beside her. “I…uh…I look at your pictures every night before I go to sleep. I hope you and your great granddad are having fun. He would’ve loved you so much.” Izzy noticed the break in his voice as he spoke. “I was really looking forward to being your dad, you know? When we found out you were a girl, I imagined taking you to the park, pushing you in the swings. You’d tell me, ‘higher, Papi’. I would’ve done my best. We’ll see each other again one day. For now, just let Abuelito take care of you, you take care of him, and the both of you take care of all us.”

“Okay, baby,” Izzy said as she took his hand while he cried. This was obviously something he hadn’t done and needed to do.

“I’m sorry I don’t get to visit much. One of these days, I’ll be back and I’ll come see you every chance I get. I promise.”

The two of them sat and talked to their daughter a little longer before they realized they had missed their movie.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“Why don’t we go and see Abuelita?”

“Why don’t we take her something to eat?” Izzy suggested.

“You got a deal, mi amor,” Rafael smiled.

Lina was so happy to see her only grandchild and his girlfriend when they arrived at her 6 floor walk-up with a pizza.

“You two shouldn’t be spending your Valentine’s Day like this,” she told them as they sat at her kitchen table.

“It was Izzy’s idea.”

“Elizabeth.”

“We were already in the Bronx so I thought, ‘why not’?”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Lina smiled before taking a bite of the huge slice of pepperoni pizza. She asked Rafael if he was nervous about graduating college and Izzy what her plans were.

“I applied to Boston University just the other day, actually.”

“You did,” Rafael asked, shocked.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “It’s only one year. I’d be 20 minutes from you.”

Lina just beamed as she watched her only grandchild and his girlfriend smile at each other.

“I hope you get accepted,” Rafael smiled.

“I still can’t believe you’re going to law school, neito.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, Abuelita.”

“And one day, you’ll be un juez.”

“Maybe.”

*************

After visiting with Lina for a few hours, Rafael and Izzy decided to head back to Bensonhurst. Stella was watching “Unsolved Mysteries” when they walked in.

“I didn’t expect you two back so soon.”

“We’ve been gone a few hours, Ma,” Izzy laughed.

“Still, I thought you two would make a night of it.”

“We just want to relax. We had dinner with mi Abuelita and just decided to come back here. Is that okay?”

“Of course, Rafael,” Stella chuckled as she shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth.

“We have some left over pizza, Ma.”

“Oooh, thank you, baby,” she said as she took the box from her daughter. Izzy noticed the vase of white roses of the coffee table.

“I thought you and Dad didn’t have to…”

“Shut it. He felt bad that he had to work tonight.”

“Oh, Mom. You two are still in love after all these years.”

“Don’t get me started on the two of you.”

“Well, we’re gonna go upstairs.”

“Okay. Rafael, don’t forget my daughter’s room is right above mine.”

“MA!”

Stella just started laughing. “At least pretend you have respect for me.”

“Okay,” Izzy giggled before they headed upstairs.

As soon as her door was closed, she practically attacked Rafael.

“Izz…are…you…sure?” He asked between kisses.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, fuck, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he told her has he pulled off the long sleeved, dark blue sweater he was wearing.

Izzy did her best to be quiet as her boyfriend practically fucked her into the mattress hard and fast. She knew her headboard had to be hitting the wall but then again, her mom was downstairs, engrossed in mysteries from around the country that had never been solved.

The louder she got, Rafael decided to cover her mouth with his hand. She ended up having to do the same to him as they rode their orgasms out.

“God…damn,” he said as he caught his breath. “Wow.”

“I…concur.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The last few months…I mean…you haven’t let me…”

“Rafa, I know I’ve been…cold…”

“You haven’t been cold, cariño. It’s just…I didn’t want to push you.”

“Can I be honest with you about something?”

“How long have we confided everything to each other?”

“Okay. The last two times before today…I was just doing it to make you happy.”

“What?”

“I thought you’d leave me if I never…if I didn’t…”

“Bebita,” he said as he cradled her cheek before bringing her face to his so he could kiss her. “My feelings haven’t changed for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why would you even think that?”

“After everything…I just thought you looked at me different. Like it was my fault or something.”

“Look at me. I have never blamed you for what happened. That was a very rare thing that could happen. Why it happened to us, I don’t know. I’ve asked God that question several times and have never gotten an answer. But it never changed how I felt about you. I’ve felt this way about you since I was 15. Well, I was 14, actually. When you smiled at me, that mouth full of metal…”

“Shut up.”

“What? I always told you I thought your smile was cute. I love you, Elizabeth.”

“I love you, too, Rafael.”

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dontshootmespence · 6 years ago

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Supernatural AU: Episode 2 - Phantom Traveler

Part 1

“How do you do it? All this?”

People tend to ask us that a lot. Hell, I question how we do it on a nearly constant basis. The answer is complex to say the least and the answers tend to change on a dime. On the one hand…I just do it. It’s what I know and I do it well, so I do it. If I didn’t the guilt would rattle at my brain. Why should I be living the sweet life when I know what’s out there and I know how to handle it? It just seems wrong. It seems selfish. But only for me of course. My brothers should be able to do as they please - hunt or have a home without guilt. On the other hand, even through all the pain and misery my brothers and I have gone through, we’ve saved people and that’s a feeling you really can’t describe unless you’ve felt it.

Helping someone survive the things they can’t explain? The monsters? Allowing them to return to the normal life my brothers and I never had? That’s a great feeling. Some hunters would say it’s a drug. I would say it’s a drug.

I’m not one of those ‘if-I-can’t-have-it-no-one-will people.’ I don’t have it, but if I can give it to someone else…well that’s the next best thing.

After Jess’s death, an absolute storm began to rage within Sam. It was almost frightening what that kind of anger could do to the most vulnerable and kind-hearted among men. Sam had always been the most vulnerable of the three of them and if they didn’t rein him in soon he could easily become someone they didn’t recognize.

For nearly a week, they stayed near Stanford trying to find any trace of what it was that killed her, but they couldn’t find anything so instead of sitting around and wasting their time, Bobbie, Dean and Sam moved on, following the trail their father left from town to town.

One thing was certain. Their father going missing and this creature or spirit or whatever the hell it was showing up again after 20 years was absolutely no coincidence. It couldn’t be. Something bigger than the Winchester family was happening – the ball had started to roll.

It didn’t matter if the trail had gone cold – not really – not in the whole scheme of things. What it came down to was the fact that there was still evil out in the world and it was the kind of evil that could actually be stopped. Sam wanted to focus solely on finding their father because in his mind once they found him they’d be one step closer to finding whatever killed Jess and their mother, but they’d had no leads so Dean and Bobbie insisted on working cases as they normally would. His desire for revenge could easily steer them away from the thousands of people that needed their help.

“We kill every evil thing between here and there,” Dean spat forcefully.

In their fight against a wendigo and the vengeful spirit of a young boy who was denied the right to grow up, Sam became increasingly more impulsive, preferring to shoot first and ask questions later. It was so unlike the Sam they’d known and loved all their lives. Sure, the two elder siblings would’ve preferred that Sam have a proverbial fire under his ass in regards to hunting but this was the other extreme and it could easily get them or someone else killed. There had to be a happy medium. Happy. Ha!

In their motel room, Bobbie pulled Sam back to rest against her shoulder. “We are going to find Dad. I promise. And then we’ll all find what killed Jess. I won’t let all this be in vain.” This had been 20 years in the making; they could wait another few weeks.

Flying was the absolute worst thing in the world. There was no way anything could be worse. As he stood over the sink, splashing cool water onto his face, he wondered if there was any way for him to never fly again. What was natural about having a tube the width of a sequoia tree floating through the air with hundreds of people on it and just a few large wings to hold it all up?

Nothing!

If this convention wasn’t going to be keeping him abreast of the up-and-coming changes in dentistry there is absolutely no way he would be subjecting himself to this right now. He’d prefer to drive, but he just didn’t have the time.

One last time, he threw the now ice-cold water onto his face, wiping it away to realize he wasn’t alone in the restroom anymore. “Nervous flyer?” The man asked.

You think?! “Just a bit,” he replied. Snark probably wasn’t the best answer with a total stranger just moments before he was supposed to board a mobile death trap.

He was extremely jealous that the other man seemed to be a comfortable flyer. What he wouldn’t give. “You’ll be okay,” he said. “I mean what are the odds of dying in a plane crash? Like 20,000 to 1?”

“T-that doesn’t make it better,” he replied, following the other gentleman’s walk as he made his way out of the bathroom. Before he could say anything else, a cloud of something, black and almost smoke-like was staring him in the face. He tried to step out of the way but it followed him and when it touched him, he realized he was no longer himself. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. Something else was driving him through the crowded airport.

What the hell is going on?

How can I not have control over my own body?

He felt like he was drunk. But times 1,000 and he wasn’t unaware of what was happening.

As he walked onto the plane, he felt his grip on himself slipping. It was like an intense itch that was slowly taking over every feeling in his body. And then…

Sometimes people just didn’t want to face the fact that they had no control over anything anymore. “Enjoy your flight,” the blonde attendant said.

He had big plans for these passengers. “Oh, I plan to.” The little moment when a human was thrown off, when they couldn’t quite shake that uneasy feeling, oh that was delicious. Smirking, he made his way to his seat. He was practically giddy with excitement. How was he supposed to wait?

Once they were up in the air, he started to feel those exciting jitters; the kind he got anytime he indulged in a little mischief and mayhem. It was almost time! The next few minutes flew by but that was only because he made corny jokes with some of the other passengers. A favorite of his was “wow, time really must fly.” So much amazing foreshadowing and they had absolutely no idea. Just the way he liked it. “How long have we been in the air?” He asked the woman next to him.

“About 40 minutes,” she replied warily. His presence did tend to make people uncomfortable.

Perfect. It was time for the headlining event.

Amidst the recycled air of the cabin, he stood up and excused himself to pass the woman sitting next to him. If he had a little more room he’d skip down the aisle, but alas he’d just have to contain himself. When he reached the emergency exit door, he hesitated for a moment. Not because of doubt. No, not at all. He just wanted to take in the moment. Turning around, he caught sight of one of the passengers and then reached for the handle.

From behind him, he heard it – the stinging panic of incoming chaos. “Hey! What are you doing?”

The human flew out the window and as he vacated the meat suit and let it fly through the air to its inevitable death, satisfied with a job well done, he heard the sound of hysterical screams. Mixed with the wind whistling into the now open cabin, it was like a symphony – and he was the conductor.

The slamming of the door woke her up. Why did everything have to be so loud? Bobbie had always been a light sleeper, but still. “What the hell?”

She popped up, bouncing against the crappy motel mattress. God her back hurt. Was she already getting too old for this? “Sam? What are you doing up?”

Dean groaned into the pillow, cursing them both for waking him up when they actually had a chance to sleep. “What time is it?” He moaned, wiping the sleep from his eyes with closed fists like a tired child. Sometimes it was hard to remember that these were her grown brothers now – to Bobbie, they would forever be the little boys she had to protect and love. It’s just now they could kill shit.

“5:45,” Sam said matter-of-factly, holding up a tray of coffees and what smelled like fresh chocolate donuts.

“AM?” Bobbie fell back into the mattress and finally caught sight of the clock. It was in fact 5:45 in the morning. “You’re insane.”

Sam shrugged and passed them both coffees and donuts before biting into one himself. Woah. If Sam was shoving crap food in his face then something had to be wrong.

“Having trouble sleeping?” She asked, already knowing the answer. She wished there was some way to help him, but unfortunately, no matter how much she wanted to, she had to let Sam be at the forefront of this battle. If he needed the backup, she’d be there.

Dean sat up and placed his feet on the floor as he attempted to knock the sleep out of his eyes. “You still having nightmares about Jess?” He asked.

At first, Sam couldn’t meet either of their gazes, but he smoothed back his hair with his hands and gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Yea. It’s not just about her though. It’s everything.”

Bobbie raised an eyebrow in his direction that coaxed him into elaborating. “All of this. What we do. I’m not used to it anymore.”

More than anything she didn’t want any of them to ever get “used to it,” but unfortunately, she felt like she and Dean were already on their way to working on autopilot. “It’s petrifying.”

“I know,” Bobbie whispered. She was always afraid. How could she not be when she was staring death in the face on a daily basis? The difference was she wasn’t going to let that fear stop her from doing what she need to do and being who she needed to be.

Silence hung between the three for a moment. “What you’re never afraid?” Dean had been suspiciously silent. For years, it had just been Bobbie and Dean; she knew he was afraid. But she also knew he’d never admit it.

As if on cue. “Afraid? No way.”

Lies, Dean. Lies. Sam could see it too.

Suddenly, her phone began to ring on the bedside table. It was a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

“Hey, is this Bobbie?”

“This is she. Who is this?”

“This is Jerry Panowski,” he said, adding when he sensed her hesitation. “You, Dean and your dad helped me a couple years back with a poltergeist.” Oh yea, she remembered him. Unlike so many of their cases where they had to convince people of the scary supernatural shit, Jerry believed them the second they’d told him what was haunting his family.

A tenseness she didn’t realize she’d been carrying dissipated from her shoulders. “Jerry, hi,” she replied, turning on the phone’s speaker. “What can I help you with?”

His voice was heavy with sadness. “You hear about the United Britannia flight a couple days ago?”

“Yea.” Dean and Sam both nodded as they tried to figure out why the hell Jerry would be calling about the plane downed by mechanical failure.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said softly. “But that plane didn’t have any mechanical failures. I think this might be your area of expertise.”

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