#she kisses him on the cheek and then on my st helens first

[thirteendaysintaunton]

thinking about how Annabeth calls Percy "obtuse" & "unable to see how people feel" in the demigod diaries and now you just know that she was fighting for her life flirting with him for years and Percy was just like "that's my best friend :) she is so nice to me"

[gryphon1232]

💝 La Vie en Chocolat 💝

Happy Valentine's Day y'all! To celebrate, I wrote a little 1,848 word Alance fic, I hope everyone enjoys! (I do not apologize for my potential butchering of the French language.)

fluff, established relationship, valentines day, they're gay and in love, banter, champagne, sweets, sharing food, but in a gay way, the sexual tension could be cut with a knife, alexandre is a menace, lance is so whipped

A short Alance ficlet set in their hotel room at night on Valentine’s day during their trip to St. Moritz. After a long day spent skiing, watching winter sports, looking at art, and drinking too much wine, they just want to relax, and spend some time alone together. Besides, it’s the quiet moments — sharing dessert, stealing kisses, and getting a little tipsy together — that make it worth it. Just some soft, slightly wine-drunk fluff with a little bit of steaminess, because it's them.

Alexandre is a bit tired now, the exertion of the day finally catching up to him as he captures Lance’s lips again, kissing him lazily. He can hear the way the Briton sucks in a faint breath at the kiss, taste the wine on his lips. 

He’d meticulously planned their trip to St. Moritz, right down to making sure the trip coincided with Valentine's Day. After all, it was Lance’s first time visiting the town. He made sure to put special care into today, however.

They started the morning with breakfast in bed, before meeting Vincent and Helene in the café downstairs for coffee. After that, they went skiing before having lunch at a charming little bistro on the square. Once lunch was over, they attended a polo match on Lake St. Moritz, and Alexandre definitely did not sneeze when they let the two of them see the winning horse after the race. Finally, to round off the day, they went to an art museum with Vincent and Helene, before finishing with dinner and a wine pairing at the best Italian restaurant in the town. 

Once dinner was over, they’d stumbled back to the hotel, and now he had one hand on Lance’s cheek, guiding him through a kiss, if you can even really call it that, when they’re breathing against each other more than anything.

His legs are tangled with Lance’s, sliding together in a mess of skin and body heat and silk sheets, and he can smell the bourbon and vanilla aftershave that Lance stole from him a few weeks ago. He lets his hand massage over the short, blond stubble on his boyfriend’s cheek. 

He caught Lance’s bottom lip between his teeth, rolled it slightly as he bit down softly. Lance’s hand on his hip tensed slightly, gripped him harder, and he was rolling them over, kissing him earnestly now. 

The room service chose that moment to arrive with a knock on the door of the suite. Lance groaned, rolling off of him as Alexandre slid out of bed to answer the door. The woman on the other side of the door greeted him with a smile, and he stepped aside to let her roll the cart into the room.

It was layered high with chocolates and little cakes and every other sweet that’d sounded tasty in the wine-drunk haze they’d been in when they first stumbled through the door of the suite. 

A bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice at the centre of the cart, surrounded by at least fifteen different desserts. There was a large crystal bowl of chocolate covered strawberries and cherries, zigercake, tiramisu, some type of Swiss tart with cinnamon and apples, and various chocolates. They were never going to eat it all — and more alcohol was the last thing they needed — but that was sober, non-Valentine’s Day logic.

He thanked the girl once she was done setting all the sweets down on the table in the bedroom of their suite, tipped her entirely too much, and turned back to Lance once she was gone. His boyfriend was lying on his side, staring mouth agape at the pile of desserts.

Alexandre giggled, watching him. He closed the gap between them, standing at the edge of the bed and cupping Lance’s jaw with his hand. The Briton started to close his mouth as he looked up, but Alexandre stopped him, thumb brushing over his boyfriend’s bottom lip. 

“You look so pretty with your mouth open like that,” he whispered, reveling in the way Lance’s skin flushed a deep red, jaw snapping shut as he mumbled something vaguely antagonistic. “What do you want to try first, mon coeur?”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were lying, facing each other on the plush bed, their plates between them piled high with sweets. Alexandre popped another chocolate in his mouth as he closed his eyes, the smooth shell cracking between his teeth as a rich vanilla liqueur spilled across his tongue.

“You’re moaning like a whore over there,” Lance said with a snort.

Alexandre choked on his chocolate, eyes flying open to stare at his boyfriend. “What did you just say?”

“It’s fine.” Lance reached out to brush his thumb against the corner of Alexandre’s mouth, wiping the smear of chocolate off his cheek, and licking it off the pad of his own thumb, “I like to listen to the sounds you make.”

It was Alexandre’s turn to blush. They might be dating — hell, might be out to the world, as of nearly four months ago, but this was still new to them. Lance’s first time with a guy, Alexandre’s first time letting himself believe that maybe he can be happy — can love who he wants to and still have a career.

“This is nice…” Lance said quietly, biting into a chocolate truffle. 

“The truffle?” Alexandre asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No — well yes…” the Briton hesitated, “but I meant this.” He gestured around. “This whole trip, just being here — with you. No cameras or media, no noise, no Enzo or the FIA. Being able to just be together, be ourselves. I know this trip is a tradition for you… I’m really glad that you invited me.”

Alexandre grinned, reaching out to take Lance's hand. “Of course,” he said, lifting Lance’s hand, still holding a half-eaten truffle, up to his face, “I knew from the moment you drove me back to my apartment after Monaco that I wanted to take you on this trip — every year.” 

“You were so drunk that night.” Lance laughed fondly, shaking his head.

Alexandre let his lips ghost over the knuckles of Lance’s right hand, placing kisses on them before he turned it over. There was a birthmark on the Briton’s palm, on the muscle between his thumb and index finger, a few shades darker than his pale skin. Alexandre pressed his lips to the spot, kissing deeply.

“Besides,” He began once he let his lips slide away from the skin of Lance’s palm, “if you’re here, my father won’t try to show up.” Lance rolled his eyes, but giggled anyway. Alexandre took the opportunity to steal the chocolate truffle still in Lance’s hand, his lips closing over both the treat and Lance’s fingers in the process.

Lance jerked his hand back. “You fucker!” he shouted, voice thick with betrayal.

Alexandre let out a hum of victory and satisfaction as he swallowed the truffle, “Mon Dieu — fuck — you were right that’s so good.” Alexandre said, letting himself melt into the bed.

“I only let you get away with stuff like that because you’re pretty…”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Alexandre cooed, pushing himself up to kneel on the bed and shuffling over to Lance on his knees. The Briton propped himself up on his elbows, expecting a kiss as Alexandre leaned over him to grab the bottle of Champagne off Lance’s end table. “Tu monopolises—” he paused, searching his hazy mind for the right words in English, “you’re hogging all the champagne.”

“I thought you were going to kiss me!” Lance said, betrayal lacing his words.

Alexandre was straddling Lance now as he took a swig of the champagne. He looked down at his boyfriend once he was finished, “Fine,” he sighed, making a show of not wanting to, “if you really want me to, I will kiss you. But first…” He trailed off, using his free hand to open Lance’s mouth, “drink up.” 

With that, Alexandre tilted the bottle, watching with a smirk as the golden bubbles cascaded from the neck. He only worried about the mess it would make on the bed after it was already too late, but thankfully the Briton caught it all in his mouth, throat bobbing as he swallowed, and eyes fluttering shut at the crisp bite of champagne.

“Canon…” Alexandre muttered to himself before leaning down to kiss his boyfriend, the taste of champagne fresh on Lance’s breath through the slide of lips.

When they broke for breath, Alexandre sat back up, eyes raking over his partner. Lance’s cheeks were flush from the alcohol, and his lips were red from kisses and strawberries — speaking of…

Alexandre leaned over, the shift of weight on Lance’s core making the Briton gasp, bucking up against Alexandre involuntarily. The Monégasque smirked to himself, before plucking two strawberries and a few chocolates off Lance’s plate, and sitting back up straight again. 

“Oh, so you’re going to feed me now?” Lance grinned up at him flirtatiously. 

“Oui,” Alexandre nodded simply, feeding Lance the first strawberry. He watched the way Lance opened his mouth without question, took the fruit between his teeth gently, and bit down on it. He listened to the way the chocolate outer shell cracked, and the soft little huff of breath Lance let out through his nose as his body relaxed, reveling in the sweet flavours.

“You know,” Lance began through a mouthful, Alexandre rolled his eyes, “you’re speaking a lot of French right now. Is that because you're drunk, or am I simply so hot that you’re forgetting English?”

Alexandre scoffed, crossing his arms. “Quoi? désolé, je ne comprends pas,” he shot back sarcastically, “such an ego on you…” he tutted.

“One of these days, I’m going to learn French, and you won’t be able to gossip about me any more—” Alexandre shut him up with another strawberry.

“I’ll believe it when I hear it, mon coeur.” The Briton sucked on his fingers as he finished off that second strawberry.

Two vanilla liqueur chocolates and another truffle later, and Alexandre was leaning over his boyfriend giggling. Maybe his coordination was a little worse than usual, because Lance currently had chocolate smeared across the lower half of his face. 

“Is it that bad?” Lance asked, struggling beneath him to turn toward the mirror.

“Non.” Alexandre grinned, leaning down to lick a stripe across Lance’s cheek, tasting the chocolate. “You look beautiful like this, I’ll clean you up.” 

He continued on, licking the chocolate off the Briton’s face even as Lance began to squirm and laugh under him. “This feels awful — Christ it’s so ticklish — Alex — Alex,” he broke off into a laugh, “Darling, wait—”

“All done,” Alexandre said happily, sitting back up.

“You remind me of my family dog,” Lance groaned, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

 “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty.” He took another swig of champagne, then poured some more out in the hopes Lance would catch it again — too lost to warn him this time. Once again, it was too late to stop once he’d realized that Lance wasn’t going to catch the champagne.  

The sticky, frothing liquid splashed across Lance’s cheeks and face, puddling on his chest and spilling down onto the sheets. “Fuck — Alex, you didn’t warn me. Get off, we need to clean this—” “We will in a minute, don’t worry,” Alexandre said in no rush, leaning down to capture his boyfriend’s champagne-drenched lips with his own again, “happy Valentine's Day, mon coeur.”

[seaweed-brain2-0]

Not only is it Percy Jackson's birthday today, it is also Percabeth's (12th??) Anniversary, so here are some of the best Percabeth moments in PJO and PJO alone. [The light blue is just me being me]

“You drool when you sleep.” (obviously)

“Me, go with you on the… the ‘Thrill Ride of Love’? How embarrassing is that? What if someone saw me?” (It was at this scene when I knew, these two would be my comfort couple in the future)

“I don’t know what my mom will do, I just know I’ll fight next to you.” “Why?” “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?”

Annabeth’s shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls—I told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched me and told me to shut up. (ah, young love)

PERCY CARRYING AROUND ANNABETHS PICTURE IN HIS NOTEBOOK TO REMIND HIMSELF THAT SHE WAS REAL no i’m not taking this one straight from the book, the paragraph is too long.

But whenever Annabeth talked about the time she spent with them, I kind of felt . . . I don’t know. Uncomfortable? No. That’s not the word. The word was jealous. (and it still took him four years to realize he was in love with her??)

She looked good. Really good. I probably would’ve been tongue-tied if I could’ve said anything except ‘reet, reet, reet’.

She tackled me with a hug, then pulled away just as quickly. “I’m glad you’re not a guinea pig.” “Me, too.” I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt. (nine year old me is SCREAMING)

“I’ll get us back to the ship,” I told her. “It’s okay. Just hang on.” Annabeth nodded to let me know she was better now, and then she murmured something I couldn’t hear because of the plugs in my ears. (THE INTIMACY)

The crowd cheered. Annabeth planted a kiss on my cheek. The roaring got a lot louder after that. (THEIR FIRST KISS DFGHJNBGVFDFGH why am I still fangirling over this, I've seen them kiss a billion times-)

“Um, who should I ask?” She punched me in the gut. “Me, Seaweed Brain.” “Oh. Oh, right.” (✨slow dance✨)

[Aphrodite] When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth. (I repeat: AND IT STILL TOOK HIM FOUR YEARS TO REALIZE HE WAS IN LOVE WITH HER????)

“You didn’t believe I was dead?” “Never.” (I believe I was dead at this point)

“I, uh, was thinking we got interrupted at Westover Hall. And . . . I think I owe you a dance.” She smiled slowly. “All right, Seaweed Brain.” (✨slow dance✨ part two *more screaming*)

“Think positive. Tomorrow you’re off to camp! After orientation you’ve got your date—”

“It’s not a date!” I protested.”It’s just Annabeth, Mom. Jeez!”

“She’s coming all the way from camp to meet you.”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re going to the movies.”

“Yeah."

“Just the two of you.”

“Mom!”

She held up her hands in surrender, but I could tell she was trying hard not to smile. (this whole scene deserved to be in here and you know it)

“Hey, it’s . . . it’s okay.” I patted her on the back. I was aware of everything in the room . I felt like I could read the tiniest print on any book on the shelves. Annabeth’s hair smelled like lemon soap. Behind me, somebody cleared his throat. It was one of Annabeth’s half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. I stepped away from Annabeth “We were just looking at maps,” I said stupidly. (imagine falling madly in love with Annabeth Chase and not knowing it until she kisses you, couldn't be me 😐)

Annabeth glared at me like she was going to punch me. And then she did something that surprised me even more. She kissed me. (*screaming intensifies*)

Annabeth and I pretty much skirted around each other. I was glad to be with her, but it also kind of hurt, and it hurt when I wasn’t with her, too. (I've just given up on screaming at Percy for not realizing his feelings sooner 😐🔫)

Annabeth wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Seaweed Brain.” “Thanks,” I said. “Me too.” (you know what I'm not glad about? Beckendorf's death 😃👍🏽)

We locked eyes. I thought of a different time last summer, under Mount St. Helen's, when Annabeth thought I was going to die and she kissed me. She cleared her throat and looked away. “Prophecy.” “Right. Prophecy.” (ahaha pain)

Malcolm grinned at me. “We’ll wait outside while you finish inspection.” The Athena campers filed out the door while Annabeth cleaned up her bunk. I shuffled uneasily and pretended to go through some more reports. Technically, even on inspection, it was against camp rules for two campers to be . . . like, alone in a cabin. That rule had come up a lot when Silena and Beckendorf started dating. Anyway, for some strange reason I was thinking about this as I watched Annabeth straighten up. (fOr sOmE rEaSoN)

“Hold on, Seaweed Brain.” It was Annabeth’s voice, much clearer now. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.” (*sobs*)

“I’ll go with Percy,” Annabeth said. “Then we’ll join you, or we’ll go wherever we’re needed.” Somebody in the back of the group said, “No detours you two.” (stop saving the world and go make out 🙄)

Before I could lose my courage, I said, “Don’t I get a kiss for luck? It’s kind of a tradition, right?” I figured she would punch me. Instead, she drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward us. “Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we’ll see.” (AND COME BACK ALIVE, HE DID)

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” she muttered. “Your eyebrows get all scrunched together.”

“You are not going to die while I owe you a favor,” I said. “Why did you take that knife?”

“You would’ve done the same for me.” (HOLY F U C K)

I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. But this was Annabeth. If I couldn’t trust her, I couldn’t trust anyone. (goodnight.)

I glanced back. Annabeth was trying not to meet my eyes. Her face was pale. I flashed back to two years ago, when I’d thought she was going to take the pledge to Artemis and become a Hunter. I’d been on the edge of a panic attack, thinking that I’d lose her. Now, she looked pretty much the same way. I thought about the Three Fates, and the way I’d seen my life flash by. I could avoid all that. No aging, no death, no body in the grave. I could be a teenager forever, in top condition, powerful, and immortal, serving my father. I could have power and eternal life. Who could refuse that? Then I looked at Annabeth again. I thought about my friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many other who were now dead. I thought about Ethan Nakamura and Luke. And I knew what I had to do. “No,” I said. “I’m honored and everything. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just . . . I’ve got a lot of life left to live. I’d hate to peak in my sophomore year.” The gods were glaring at me, but Annabeth had her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were shining. And that kind of made up for it. (THIS WHOLE SCENE RUINED MY PERCEPTION OF MEN. THEY ARE, IN FACT, NOT AS PERFECT AS PERCY)

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.” When she kissed me, I had the feeling my brain was melting right through my body. (I'M MELTING)

We held hands right up to the moment they dumped us in the water. Afterward, I had the last laugh. I made an air bubble at the bottom of the lake. Our friends kept waiting for us to come up, but hey—when you’re the son of Poseidon, you don’t have to hurry. And it was pretty much the best underwater kiss of all time. (DFGHJHGFDFGHJNHGFDFGHJNBVCFGHJMNBVCFKIJUHYGT I DON'T THINK I WILL EVER RECOVER FROM THIS ITS TOO PERFECT GOODBYE FOREVER)

[barbarianprncess]

of these rushing waves

(you’ll be the oxygen i breathe)

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

(or 2k words of annabeth discovering what she means to percy)

(the biggest of shout outs to @timelesslords for helping me make this coherent, and to @colorguardfreak97 for encouraging me every step of the way. enjoy <3)

read on ao3

A week after the Titan War, Annabeth is drafting a temple to Hestia when the weight of being the only person in the world that knows Percy's weak spot hits her.

Like. Really hits her.

And after about a day and a half freaking out about what it means and what she should do about it, she decides to go talk to him.

(Because not talking to him about what was bothering her led to the worst year of her life. Progress.)

They’re sitting on the beach, sharing Percy’s too small blanket- they both know he has bigger ones, but it’s an excuse to be almost on top of each other. She’s curled up resting on his chest, and he has one hand secured on her waist tracing patterns on her thigh, the other tangled in her curls. They watch the sunset and Annabeth is almost perfectly content.

Almost.

“How did you know?” The words tumble out of her without context.

He shifts to face her and raises an eyebrow. Annabeth finds it unfairly attractive.

“Know what?”

“When you told me your weak spot. How’d you know I could handle it?” The unspoken ‘because I don’t think I can handle it ’ must be apparent enough because Percy’s expression softens.

“Have you been worrying about this?”

Annabeth’s first impulse is to brush it off and change the subject. But then she hears Silena’s voice in her head: tell him how you feel. So she ducks her chin and forces the words out.

“Well yeah, I mean it kinda freaks me out that I just have this power over you. I don’t trust myself.”

Percy tilts her chin with featherlight fingers and an unadulterated fondness her seven year old self would kill to be on the receiving end of.

“I trust you enough for the both of us,” he said.

“How are you so sure about this?” ‘How are you so sure about me?’

He gives her a ‘duh’ look that she’s so used to giving him, it's a bit shocking to be on the opposite end of it. She decides immediately she doesn’t like it.

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t, hence me asking you why.”

She's watched Percy's face morph to pure amusement. He chuckles, and hesitates. “Well, because...”

He trails off clearly thinking about how to word his answer. As he thinks it over she allows herself to look at him properly.

He’s beautiful. Sharp jawline, defined cheekbones, devastatingly symmetrical features. His eyes are deep and content, looking out at the sea as if it has the answer he’s looking for. He can’t seem to find what he wants amongst the waves, but his eyes meet hers and the words seem to come to him.

“It’s you, Annabeth.”

He says it like it answers not only her question but thousands of others. It does neither.

“What’s me, Annabeth?” She attempts at light-hearted sarcasm despite her impatience.

He looks at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes and she knows that look. She hates that look. That look means she’s not getting an answer anytime soon.  

“Oh my gods, you really don't know?”

She glares daggers.

He smiles winningly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” She bites at his shoulder in retaliation.

“You’re the smartest person I know-” Percy starts.

“True, but flattery will get you nowhere-” Annabeth cut him off.

“So figure-’ He presses a kiss to her temple.

“It-’ A kiss to her left cheek.

“Out.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but he kisses her before she can get out the words. And His knuckles are gentle under her chin, and he smells like ocean breeze, and his lips are chapped yet achingly soft, and he tastes like home. Annabeth resigns herself to find out what he means later, and allows herself to get lost in him and saltwater and home.

...

She digs up every legend about the curse of Achilles she can find. She scours Daedales’s laptop until it runs out of battery. She didn’t even know that was possible.

She researches.

And researches.

And nothing.

She has no idea what he means. Annabeth famously hates not knowing.

And. Percy. Won’t. Budge.

She has tried every trick in the book. She tried baking blue cookies (she burned them), refusing to kiss him till he tells (she caves), and asking Grover to get it out of him (something about the bro-code).

Everytime she asks him he just looks at her with his dopey, baby-seal love eyes and says those same two words.

“It’s you.”

She hates him.

...

It’s three more days before she figures it out.

Nico is looking at her skeptically. His all black get-up makes it so he almost blends in with shadows of the Big House’s basement.

“You need my help?” He deadpans, leaning against the wall looking almost bored.

“Sort-of,” Annabeth shifts on her feet,  “So, I know you were the one who took Percy to the River Styx, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well he’s explained to me bits and pieces about how the curse works, and told me where his… you know… spot is.”

“Ok.”

“So my question is-” Annabeth stopped short. “Wait doesn’t that surprise you at all?”

He shrugs noncommittally, “Not really, no. You were saying?”

Annabeth clears her throat and soldiers on.

“Uh yeah. Right, well it sorta freaked me out how readily he told me about it and I asked how he knew I could handle it and he just said ‘it’s me’. And he refuses to elaborate, and it’s kind of killing me so, do you know what that means? And if you do, could you please explain?”

She’s been staring at her shoes while she rambles on and when she looks up she sees…

Is that humor in his eyes?  

“So, I'm guessing you've done your research on the curse?” She nods. “So you know that when Achilles mother dipped him in the Styx, she held him up by his ankle, which then became his mortal point.”

“Like a sort of anchor.”

“Exactly. Now what the legends don’t mention is that the mortal point wasn’t just the ankle. When his mother pulled him out she became part of his mortal point. Still with me?”

“Not really.”

“Perfect. Going in on your own is no different. You still need someone to help you out of the river, just not physically. You need to picture someone pulling you out, someone to motivate you, someone to bring you back to earth.”

He looks up at her, silently asking permission to continue. Annabeth nods with urgence.  

“It's not just someone who can keep you mortal, but the one person that makes you want to stay mortal. That person and your weak spot become intertwined.” He looks up at her and must still see traces of confusion.

“Your mortal point isn’t just the point of your body that’s unaffected by the River Styx, It’s the person in your life that you saw that gave you the strength to survive the Styx at all.”

Oh.

Oh.

“So when he says ‘it’s...He literally means…” She trails off and looks up at Nico. His smirk is patronizing, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“It’s you.”

…

She vaguely recalls thanking Nico for his help, but how she ended up in her bunk staring at the wall is a mystery. Annabeth has never truly understood the word dumbfounded until now.

...

It’s her.

...

By the time she comes to, it's dark out. Annabeth is already grabbing her invisibility cap and pulling on her shoes. She should probably change out of her pajamas, but her urgency to get to Percy outweighs the little vanity she has left in her. Percy has seen her in far worse conditions than messy hair and sleep wear.

Normally she would climb in through his window, but tonight is strictly business. Percy is still up waiting for her like he has been every night since the war ended. His face brightens when his eyes land on her face then immediately scrunch in concern when he sees what must be a manic look in her eye.

“You ok?”

“It’s me.” A whisper- she says it like she can't fully comprehend the words.

“It’s me?” A question- not necessarily for him just unsure.

“It’s me!” An accusation- this time it’s directed at Percy, who smiles with unnecessary pride.

He tugs at her hand and pulls her to sit on the bunk.“You figured it out.”

She’s briefly tempted to explain the whole visit with Nico, but she has other things on her mind.

“That’s how I knew on the bridge. That feeling that you were in danger, even though you hadn’t told me where the spot was, I knew.”

He shrugs, “It would make sense, but to be honest, I actually have no idea.”

She entwines their fingers and he lifts her hand up to press kisses to her knuckles.

“You saved me.” Percy says it soft and reverent, like a prayer.

“On the bridge?”

“No. Well yeah you saved me on the bridge, but I’m talking about the Styx. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I was burning alive. It was like I was back at Mt. St. Helen’s all over again.”

She feels a swift wave of guilt that she quickly pushes down so she can pay attention to the rest of his words.

“Except instead of the lava being thrown at me, I was dunked in it. And it was ten times hotter. I was drowning.” He laughs mirthlessly, and she squeezes his hand. “I was in so much pain I couldn't remember who I was.”

She knocks her forehead against his, partly to bring him back to reality, partly to remind herself that he did in fact survive to tell her this story.

He looks up at her, green eyes wide with a wonder and reverence she doesn’t believe she deserves.

“Then I heard you. Your voice. I heard your voice and I saw your face and you held out your hand. You didn’t just pull me back. You put me back together. The thought of you put me back together. I took your hand and I survived because of you. You saved me Annabeth.”

Annabeth is stunned into silence.

She has no doubt in her mind that if it were her in the Styx, she would've seen Percy and he would’ve saved her in the same way she saved him. But, it's different hearing it from him. It’s a rare feeling to know that this full-bodied, utter devotion (the kind she feels for him), is mutual. To hear it spoken out loud is almost unheard of.

She doesn’t have the words to articulate the supernova of emotions exploding her chest, so she kisses him. She kisses him with everything she has. Percy kisses her back with the same intensity. Percy’s kisses are safety and contentment and light. He’s so good with words (better with them than she is), and she thinks it translated into the way he kissed. He kisses her like he’s trying to say something--typically some shy declaration of the love that they both know is between them but tiptoe around speaking into existence.

He kisses with his whole body. He clutches at her waist like he couldn’t bear to let go, and she arches her back because she doesn't think she could bear it either. He occupies all five of her senses, the only thing she knows is him. Her hands are buried in his hair. He’s the sun, and kissing him is sunshine personified.

When she finally pulls back, he removes one of the hands gripping at her waist to slip into the junction between her collarbone and her jaw to keep their foreheads together. He keeps pulling her in his orbit, freckles like constellations, breaths mingled like they could survive on kisses and shared oxygen alone.

She thinks she’d like that.

Percy ends up curled on top of her, his head resting in the crook of her neck. One of her hands in his hair, the other on the small of his back like she can protect him with force of will alone.  They fall asleep the way they survive- anchored to each other.

...

[the-a-word-2214]

Wise Beyond Her Years

summary: Pierre realizes he’s in love with his childhood best friend

pairing: Pierre Bezukhov x reader

word count: 1,489

warnings: fluff, soft Pierre moments

My dearest (Y/N),

Helene has become unbearable. She admitted to not wanting children although I persuaded her with having any amount of money she could ever want. I would like children one day, maybe Helene isn’t meant to be in my life after all. Thank you for listening.

Pierre Bezukhov

—————————————

As you carefully read Pierre’s letter, you cannot help but feel his unhappiness. He didn’t even originally want to marry Helene, her father thrust marriage upon them.

You’d known the man since you were children, you always felt a growing sense of love when you saw him but it was much more than a friendly love, it was a romantic one.

Once Pierre had come into the sum of his father’s inheritance, women were falling over themselves to get to him. It’s as if the socially awkward man they once saw had been erased from their minds.

He was still your Pierre though, the man that you loved and had since childhood. Your heart leaped anytime you saw him, but that was long ago. After getting thrown out of St. Petersburg, you hadn’t seen him in many months.

Once you received his letter, you immediately wrote back.

—————————————

Pierre,

I’m sorry to hear about your misfortune with Helene. Just know that there is a silver lining to your problems, my dear. You must come visit me, I get lonely most days without you here. The ice has frozen solid over the lake, it is now perfect for ice skating.

(Y/N) (L/N)

—————————————

The wind whipped through your hair as you skated across the frozen lake. Your warm coat kept out the cold. You skidded to a halt as you saw a figure in a fluffy ushanka marching towards you. It was Pierre, your Pierre.

He rushed towards you, nearly falling on his face. You met him in the middle, squeezing him tightly in a hug.

“Pyotr! So good to see you.” You exclaim, your mouth buried in the fur of his coat.

“Dearest (Y/N), it has been too long.” He mumbles into your hair as you pull away to look at him, your hands on his forearms.

“Come, let me show you how to skate.” You carefully pull him onto the ice with you as you skate backward, your eyes remaining on him. His gaze is wary as he slowly begins moving on the frozen water.

“This is much more fun than I ever anticipated.” He laughs softly as he looks down at his feet.

*******

Once you both return to the warmth of indoors, you take off your coat. You run your hands down the length of the smooth fabric of your dress. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you sit down next to the fire, the only sound being the popping of the fire.

“How have you been, (Y/N)?” Pierre startles you with his voice as he sits down in a chair next to you.

“Oh my! You gave me a fright.” You laugh softly as you put a hand to your chest.

“I’ve been lonely, Sonya and Natasha keep fine company but I miss our talks. I miss the way you used to make me laugh.” Your eyes flit to him, taking in his appearance. His hair a little longer than what you remember although the same glasses adorn his face.

“I see. I’ve missed you too, dearly. Helene only thinks of me as an oaf and a brute. She’s decided that she won’t mother any children either. The words she used were ‘you know I’m not the motherly type.’” He sighs, running a hand over his face.

“You deserve someone who will treat you better, Pierre. A kind woman who will happily bear your children.” You gently take his hand, he looks down at it. His eyes turn to you as he moves your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly.

Your breath catches in your throat as you turn to look away, your cheeks dusted with a faint blush.

“Pierre, you always flatter me.” You whisper as a smile graces your lips.

“You know that I’ve always found you to be wise beyond your years. You’re extraordinary! I’m four years your senior and yet you could outsmart me in almost any situation.” He’s doting on you now, making wild gestures with his hands. It always humored you when he became over dramatic.

“Oh, stop it Pierre. You’re too kind.” You laugh softly as he stands up, pulling you with him by your hands.

“It beguiles me that you can’t see your worth. You deserve a good man, (Y/N).”

*******

Pierre begins writing to you once more after he sees you. He would tell you about how many times Helene would be out and about and how each time he was more and more tempted into divorcing her.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was the truth of him finding out that Fedya Dolokhov, his own friend, was having an affair with Helene. Her restless behavior when he was around made sense now.

Pierre had challenged Dolokhov to a duel, in which he won. It was a miracle that he remained unscathed through it all. He wrote to you about his good fortune and each day after that. He began writing so often that you couldn’t keep up.

—————————————

My dearest (Y/N),

There is a ball being held soon. I would hope that you would be in attendance. This will be one of the first times that I make an appearance in public after separating from Helene. Please consider my proposal.

Pierre Bezukhov

—————————————

The thought of seeing Pierre again enticed you enough to bare the festivities of aristocratic life. With a heavy sigh, you prepared for the ball that’s taking place in the evening.

*******

The gold that lined the walls of the palace was illuminated as the darkness from outside seeped in. Everyone looked regal in their white clothes, especially the girls who lined up to meet their suitors.

You stood by your lonesome with your parents at your side as you surveyed the crowd. Andrei was somewhere in the crowd along with Pierre. You followed their gaze to see Natasha playfully looking away from their watchful eyes.

You felt wrong for coming, you felt like a fool. Of course Pierre could never love you when he was always so close with Natasha. Tears filled your eyes as you rushed off to another part of the palace, leaving your parents and the emotions of the ballroom behind.

You cried softly as you sunk to the floor, the only other bodies in the room being that of the footmen. The sound of boots against the tile filled your ears as you remained in your previous position.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? What is the matter?” Pierre squatted down to your level as he beckoned you to look at him.

“I saw the way you looked at her, you love her don’t you?” You sniffled as you whipped your head up to look at him.

He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, at a loss for words.

“...Never mind.” He stands up again as he begins to pace the small space.

“Never mind what? What is it, Pierre?” You demand as you approach him.

“I don’t love her, I love you.” He blurts out, his eyes a mix of fear and sadness.

You choose your words before vocalizing them.

“I love you too, Pierre. Ever since we were little.” You whisper the last part, staring at your shoes. He pulls you closer to him, his hands on either side of your face. He leans down and captures your lips in his own. The kiss is tender and soft as your lips move together as one.

Once you finally part, you feel as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Your feelings no longer harbored, now out in the open.

“I’m delighted to hear that you feel the same way. Now, might you allow me the honor of dancing with you? If you’ll have me, that is.” He holds out his hand to you. You take it without a second thought, his deft, gloved fingers warm in your own.

He leads you out to the ballroom, this time your view of it is different. The faces seem a little more welcoming and you now notice just how handsome Pierre looks in his pale grey jacket. His eyes never leave yours as he holds you close. A slow melody fills the air as you hold him close.

Your hand in his, the other on his shoulder. You feel peace for the first time in years as you gaze at the man who loved you in return. That’s all you ever wanted in the end, is to be loved and love in return.

This was just the beginning of your new life with Pierre. Just the start of something wonderful.

[dadolorian]

Seven Days of Valentines, (Diamonds and Daddies side story) Whiskey x F!Reader CH 2

A/N: Thanks to @talesfromtheguild​ for Beta reading and helping me with many ideas for this! This will be a weekly series leading up to Valentines Day

I try to keep Readers physical appearance as open as possible for this story, but please note in these chapters shes going to become more of a ‘character’, some specific interests of hers are going to come into play.

This is canon to the main Diamonds and Daddies story, but i am uploading as its own thing. You do not need to have read Diamonds and Daddies to read this, just know its a fic about Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels being a Sugar Daddy and the reader is a professional Sugar Baby.

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader  Warning/tags: established relationship, fluff, semi-public sex, sex against a window, P in V sex, fingering, Oral (M and F receiving) , multiple orgasms, slight over stimulation, dirty talk, choking, Daddy kink, DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, creampie,biting/marking, possessive language, aftercare, Jacks both a gentleman and a DIRTY BASTARD, Reader is 100% into it all

Word count: 6K +

My master list Seven days of Valentines masterlist  AO3 LINK Buy me a Kofi

Summary: Whiskey whisks his Sugar baby away for a romantic Valentine’s getaway. Day two he takes her to see her favorite work of art. 

Tuesday  9th of February

The second morning in Rome started with an early morning makeout session, soft, gentle kisses roused you from sleep, followed by a shower and a traditional Italian breakfast delivered to your suite as the two of you sat watching people make their way to the coliseum. 

The coffee and crespelles were a perfect way to start the day, made all the more better by Jack’s large hand resting on your thigh, drawing gentle patterns with his thumb as you each sipped your mugs in comfortable silence. 

By eight thirty AM the two of you were dressed in your warm clothes and out the door, ready to partake in whatever adventure Jack had planned. 

You sat literally on the edge of your seat in excitement as you were driven around Rome to our destination for the day. Jack warmly chuckled beside you at your boundless enthusiasm, smiling wider to himself as you began snapping pictures along the way of the general beauty that was Rome. 

Once you were dropped off Jack took your hand in his, leading the way up the road and round the corner. You practically hummed in excitement beside him, bouncing in glee as the large walls of Vatican City loomed over you. 

“Jaaaacccckkkk!” you squealed delightedly, as he led you to the back of a growing queue. “Are we going where I think we’re going?” 

He chuckled at your excitement again. “Couldn't take my girl to Rome without letting her see her favorite work of art could I?” 

You bounced in place, trying to express your excitement and gratitude in any articulate way you could, you cupped his face and pulled him down for an expressive kiss on his cheek. 

“You have no idea how excited I am Jack!” You elated, almost jumping for joy beside him. 

He tried to calm you down and keep you still by resting his hands on your hips, pulling you to his front in a gentle embrace. 

“I have a fair idea Sugar,” he hummed, kissing your brow affectionately. “I remember when you mentioned wanting to visit Rome, on our New Year's trip, just a passing comment, but your eyes lit up when you mentioned the Sistine Chapel, I just knew I had to take you one day Darlin.” 

Your hands rested lightly on his chest, with your gaze cast down you smiled, tenderly remembering the brief exchange you had shared months prior. At the time you never took much note of your conversation, having forgotten all about it until Jack had surprised you with this trip, but clearly Jack had taken notice, and went through great pains to make your wish you had barely ever shared before a reality. 

You had lost count of the amount of times he proved himself of how utterly perfect he was for you was incalculable. 

He amazed you every day, outdoing himself with each little surprise or adoring words, each grand gesture or gentle peck, each casual touch or passionate kiss.

Jack Daniels, as cocky, ridiculous, and flirtatious as he was, was everything you had ever hoped for. 

“I wish I knew, just how to show my gratitude to you Jack,” you whispered softly to him.

He gently pulled your gaze back up to meet his.

 “Darlin, you don’t need to do anything other than stay with me. You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years, and that's more than enough for me.” 

Your lower lip wobbled and your eyes threatened to spill, Jack preemptively stopped your sappy tears from spilling with a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Come on Darlin, lines moving.”  

Jack walked arm in arm with you throughout the whole tour of Vatican city, your gaze was often fixed to the beautiful architecture or paintings, but everytime you glanced over at Jack, his eyes were fixed on you. You had his whole attention, not the paintings, not the tour guide, you. 

“Jack?” You asked softly, concerned he was only humoring you and didn't actually care about anything you were seeing. “Aren't you interested in all this?”

“Oh I am Darlin,” he reassured. “But I love watching the way your eyes light up, better than any painting here.” 

“You’re just trying to butter me up Cowboy,” you smiled up at him. 

“Can’t help it Sugar, pretty thing like you on my arm? Who can blame me?” 

“You flatter me Jack, You’ve been sweet talking me from the moment we met, I don't even think you would know how to stop,” you teased. 

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. 

“No Darlin, I don't think I would know how to either.” 

It was impossible to express just how fantastical it felt to see some of the famous pieces found in the Vatican museum, Raphael’s ‘Transfiguration’, The statue of Laocoön and his sons, The Vision of St. Helen , Da Vinci's St. Jerome in Wilderness, masterpieces you had only ever seen photos of on the internet or in your meager collection of art History books. Completely indescribable.  But these experiences paled in comparison to seeing Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, photos could not compare to how breathtaking it was. It loomed above you, alongside dozens of other High Renaissance masterpieces, but your eyes were pulled back to that one each time. 

You imagined Michelangelo, centuries ago, in his genius, laying on his back atop the precarious scaffolding as he painted it, how grueling it was, how long it took.

You never thought you would ever see it, not in person, it had been such a fantasy to you you had never really mentioned it before until Jack had asked you those months ago.

Daddies had taken you on vacations before, trips to sunny beaches and tropical getaways, when they wanted to impress you and have you show some skin, but not once had they ever asked you where you wanted to go, what you wanted to see. 

There had been no desire to share your interests, to take you to experience culture and art over bikinis and parties. Jack had been right, you had been with some shit Daddies before you met him. 

The picturesque beaches and clear oceans may have been pretty to look at, but it couldn't hold a candle to the beauty above you.  

Standing there, with your neck strained up at the ceiling, your eyes began to water for the umpteenth time since you had landed in Italy, but you willed them away this time, focusing on the painting to burn the experience into your memory and refusing to let the tears fog your vision as emotions overwhelmed you once again. 

“Baby?” Jack’s soft voice cut in, his arms wrapped around your middle as he came up behind you, kissing your forehead. “You good?”

“Perfect, Jack,” you whispered back, giving your neck a break by resting the back of your head on him. 

“Everything you ever dreamed about?” He asked, following your gaze to the painting.

“Better,” you sighed, squeezing his arms around you. 

You clung to Jack’s arm as you made your way out of Vatican city and back to the streets of Rome. He patted your hand affectionately, placing a kiss to your temple. 

You had been so...so... moved, by Jack's surprise, by the artworks, by the experience and you knew you couldn’t express it to him. And you knew he knew.

You were beginning to understand the magnitude of his affections, he wasn’t just trying to impress you, to show off and boost his ego like many men before him. 

No, Jack's masculinity wasn’t so fragile that he had to prove himself like that, he may flash his money for you, to buy you trinkets and clothes just as they all had before, but the way he went about it was so different. 

Stuff wasn’t what he relied on to keep you with him, no, he kept you by his side by paying attention, by caring about you, for you.

He wanted to make you happy, truly, and he expected nothing from you in return apart from your companionship. 

His words from earlier in the day were really starting to strike a chord with you.

“You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years.”

You looked up at him from the corner of your eye as he led you through the streets. He seems to know where he wanted to go, and you trusted him not to get you lost. 

“Jack,” you whispered softly. “I-” 

“Don’t need to say a thing Baby,” he interrupted. “I know.” 

“But, I-” you sighed. “How?” 

“How do I know?” he asked, amused. “Baby you thank me every damn time I do something for you, no matter how big or small, I've picked up on a few things. I can tell when you’re struggling to figure out how to thank me.” 

He stopped in his tracks, guiding you to his front and pulling one of your hands up to his lips to kiss it. 

“You tear up when something specially meaningful, those are the times you can’t figure out what to say,” he cupped your face in his large, warm hands. They felt nice against the chill that had clung to your cheeks. “But you don’t need to say anything Sugar, I can tell just by lookin at’cha you’re grateful. It made you happy, that's all I wanted. I don’t need a ‘thank you’, I just need you.” 

Your lip wobbled and you pouted up at him, making him chuckle. 

“See? Just like that, and I get yer waterworks running,” he teased, thumb wiping a tear that was threatening to spill.

You rolled your eyes and swatted his chest playfully. 

“None of that Darlin” he laughed, ducking his head to kiss you. “My Baby gets all sappy for Daddy’s sweet words huh?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you giggled, trying to duck from him gleefully. 

“Thought you liked me ‘cocky’,” he joked as you turned and tried to walk off, pulling you back into his grip, back flush against his front. “Specially when it’s inside-” 

“Jack! People are watching!” you laughed, swatting at him over your shoulder, grateful at least your conversation wasn't too loud and probably not understood by the locals who rolled their eyes at the childish tourists as they passed. 

He laughed merrily, letting you go and gently taking your hand. 

“Such a killjoy,” he joked, leading the two of you again. “Come on then Sugar, lets get some lunch.”

Lunch  turned out to be in this adorable local cafe hidden down many sidestreets. 

Jack told him a work colleague told him about the hidden gem, unknown to most tourists, and had made a point to bring you there. 

You sat inside, safe from the bitter cold as you sipped your hot drinks and shared croissants and muffins.

Silence passes between you, as you watch from your window the small trickle of locals walk by, trudging through the remaining snow slush, on their way to wherever it was they were going.  It was a perfect way to relax after your tour, Jack told you to enjoy it while it lasted, because he had one more surprise for the day. 

Jack’s second surprise was a tour of Castel sant'angelo. 

It was originally built as a mausoleum, over the centuries it became a fortress and castle, in modern times, it had become a museum. 

“Two museum tours in one day?” You asked, humming as the two of you walked over the beautifully sculpted bridge leading up to the impressive building hand in hand. 

“Well with it being so close to the Vatican, I thought ‘Why not?’ , and I know how much my Baby appreciates her art and history,” he smiled.

Taking his words from earlier to hear, you thanked him with just a kiss on the cheek.

Jack insisted the two of you could walk back to your hotel by the time you were kicked out of the castle at closing time. 

‘Just a forty minute walk’ he promised.

You pouted at him, shaking your head no.  

“My feet are killing me Jack,” you whined. 

“Won't it be romantic though Baby?” He asked, trying to convince you.“Walking through the streets of Rome at night? Just the two of us?” 

 It did sound nice, in theory, but the sky was clouded over, your feet hurt, the ground was covered in slush and it was starting to seep into your supposedly waterproof boots. 

“My toes are going numb and it’s freezing Jack!” 

“But Baby-”

“Daddy,” you sniveled, trying to appeal to his dominant, caring role over you. You wrapped your arms around yourself to block out the cold as the temperature dropped further. It was bearable in the day, sunlight and warm clothes enough to keep you reasonably warm. But you weren't dressed with the expectation of being outdoors too long, and as the snow began to fall you pulled yourself to his chest, snuggling into his warmth. 

“Please Daddy, I don't want to walk like this.” 

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, caving to his instincts to care for you. 

“Alright then, let me call a cab Honey Bee,” he relented, pulling out his phone. 

You groaned when you made your way into the hotel room, throwing the keycard on the table and collapsing by the door , tearing off your boots and letting your soaked, numb toes free. 

Jack chuckled at your dramatic behaviour, not removing any of his gear much to your confusion. 

“There’s a few more presents on the bed for you,” he smiled, heat in his eyes and flashing his canines at you as he crouched down in front of you, stroking your cheek. “Want you to go in there and put them on-” 

“Jack, my feet are too sore for any heels toni-”

“No heels, Honey Bee,” he said, his tone and use of your moniker a clear warning for you to fall in line. “You’ll like it, I promise. Now go open your presents and get dressed while I go pick up dinner.” 

He stood up as you nodded and took his hand when he offered it, helping you up and grabbing the keycard from where you discarded it.

“Be back soon Baby,” he smiled as he opened the door and left. 

Alone, you padded into the bedroom, your feet grateful for the plush carpet as you made your way over to the bed. 

Laid out across the sheets was a beautiful little pair of pink and black satin sleep shorts, a matching bralette, a cute pair of pink fluffy bunny slippers, and a long fuzzy pink gown. You ran your fingers over the material of them all, amazed at how soft they all were. 

Atop your outfit for the night was another folded up note. You picked it up carefully and opened it up, greeted by Jack’s familiar scrawl once again. 

“Day two of seven, I know your feet must be real sore today Baby, I hope a relaxing evening with Daddy makes up for it. Get dressed and go pick out a movie out in the livin room for me.  Happy Valentine’s Week Sugar,  Love Jack” 

You softened, reading his words, again as you folded the note back up and began redressing. 

The satin felt even smoother as it covered your skin, and the fuzzy robe and slippers helped warm you up after your cold trip back to your suite. 

Once dressed you wandered out into the living area,  delighted to see the couch covered in soft blankets and pillows, a gift hamper sat on the coffee table containing sweets, a bottle of wine, glasses and some foot lotion. Your heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of it all and how intimately comfortable it was.

As you snuggled under one of the blankets and flicked on the TV, scrolling through movie options you heard the keycard beep and the door unlock. 

“Back Darlin!” Jack called from the entranceway , you heard him put something down and head to the bedroom. 

He joined you a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips and his trademark stetson, carrying a large pizza box. 

You smiled and bit your lip, admiring his little tummy that you loved so much.

He placed the box on the coffee table and snuggled under the blanket with you. 

“Pick something out Baby?” He asked, one arm over the back of the couch and other hand wandering up your thigh under your robe and resting there. 

“I think so,” you hummed, relaxing back into his embrace and warmth, head resting on his shoulder. “Sci-Fi movie by the looks of it.” 

“Prospect?” Jack questioned. “Don’t usually sound like our kinda thing Darlin.” 

“Yeah, but one of the actors caught my eye in the preview clips,” you giggled. “He looks like you Daddy.” 

He quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you a shrug, letting you click play as he pulled the pizza and wine over for you to share. 

You almost choked on your pizza when the actor showed up and Jack exclaimed in annoyance that he looked nothing like him. 

“What are you talking about?” You laughed. “He could be your twin!” 

“I know for a fact my Mamma only gave birth to one Daniels boy thank you very much!” He proclaimed. 

You giggled hysterically, curling into him, trying not to knock the pizza box onto the floor. 

“He’s just you with more scruff!” You gasped for breath between your laughter. “Listen to him he’s even got a southern accent too!” 

“I resent being compared to a scruffy, sweaty, bastard space man who talks so damn weird Darlin!” 

You covered your mouth, biting back a sassy comment about the ‘talks weird’ comment and tried to compose yourself. 

“How can you not see it?” You asked when you finally calmed down. “The similarities are scary.”

The two of you eventually agreed to disagree as you finished your pizza and wine and moved on to a few after dinner chocolates from the hamper. 

Jack rubbed your feet with the lotion as you lay on the couch sideways, easing the tension and soreness from your feet in his lap as the movie went on. You melted to his touch, unwinding from the long day on your feet. 

You had taken quite a liking to the southern spaceman with the silver tongue, much to Jack's growing annoyance, he grumbled as you cooed at the man on screen.

But as irritated as he was, he pulled you to his side in comfort as you watched your little crush have his arm amputated, hiding your face in Jack’s chest throughout the difficult scene. 

“Poor Ezra,” you murmured when the scene was over. 

Jack rolled his eyes and kissed the crown of your head. “I don’t know what you see in him Darlin.” 

“He’s your scoundrel, space-cowboy twin Jack. What’s not to like?” 

“Think you need your eyes checked Darlin. I might actually be bothered ‘bout your little infatuation if you didn’t insist so damn hard that he looked like me.” 

You giggled and settled down again against his bare chest.

“Hmm...”

“What are you hmming about over there?”

“You’d look good with a little blonde patch.”

“Shut up.”

When the credits rolled Jack switched off the TV, shrouding the room in darkness and stood up, gently pulling you up to your feet beside him. You were tired after such a long day, and the movie and snuggles afterwards only made you more tired.

He rested his hands on your hips and gave you a tender, soft kiss. 

“You like your new jammies Baby?” He asked, smiling when you nodded. “Yeah? You look so dang cute in them.” 

He nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Is my Baby too tired tonight? Or do you want to have some playtime with Daddy before bed?”

You whined in response, resting your hands on his chest. 

“I always want to play with you Daddy.” 

“Oh I know you do Baby, but Daddy thinks you need your rest. Bed time for you I think.” 

“I don’t want to go to bed Daddy.” 

“Think you’re awake enough for it Honey Bee?” he asked, gently shoving your new robe off of your shoulders and onto the floor. 

“Yes,” you nodded. 

“Prove it,” he rasped, firmly pushing you to your knees in front of the couch and pulling his sweats down enough for his balls and hardening cock to hook over them. 

You licked your lips and looked up at him, taking him in your hand at the base. His eyes burned into yours as you opened your mouth and began kitten licking at his tip, circling your tongue around him.

You kissed him, from base to tip, worshipping his cock. 

He moaned at your teasing little touches and you felt him twitch in your hand, hardening slowly under your touch. 

‘That's it Baby, Get Daddy nice and hard,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to lose himself to the feeling of you coaxing his cock.

You felt the crotch of your sleep shorts become wet, aroused by his raspy voice and lewd moans. But you kept your hands where they were, on his thigh and cock, knowing if you touched yourself without permission his ‘playtime’ with you would become a (delicious) punishment. 

You relaxed your jaw and took him into your mouth, letting your tongue run along the underside of his length as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your mouth. 

He let out a loud guttural moan, hands cupping your head to keep you in place. 

“Hmmmmm fuck Baby!” He spat, looking back down at you and gently thrusting his hips into your face, careful not to choke you. “You’ve gotten so good at that! Can take me so well now can’t cha? Almost all the way!” 

He rocked into you slowly, now fully erect in your mouth, you concentrated on breathing through your nose as he pushed himself deeper with each thrust. 

You had succeeded in taking him easier than when you first had gotten together, but it was still a struggle to truly deepthroat him and supress your gag reflex, so far you had never managed to take him all in before you backed out. You kept your hand on his thigh, ready to tap out when needed. 

Your eyes never left his face, and his never left your lips, watching as inch by inch his cock went further into your mouth. 

“Breathe Baby,” he encouraged, hungrily watching his spit covered cock push and pull in and out of you. “If you can take me all the way in tonight Baby, I’ll give you a big reward.” 

You mewled around him, excited by his promise of a reward. He always delivered on those promises in a spectacular way. 

You took a deep breath through your nose and relaxed your throat as best you could, successfully taking him further, your jaw hurt and your throat protested as he pushed in even deeper. 

Your eyes watered as your lips finally met the groomed hair at his base. You blinked up at him, waiting for approval and praise for having taken him all the way for the first time triumphantly.

“Hnnng! Fuck! Good girl! Good Girl!” he panted, watching you, transfixed on the way his cock looked shoved all the way down your throat. “Perfect, warm wet little mouth fuck!” 

He reached down cautiously, fingers tracing over your neck gently, feeling the bulge in your throat. You whined, feeling light headed as he gripped your neck and squeezed lightly, he gave an experimental thrust, even with the awkward angle and groaned at the feeling of his own hand squeezing your throat tighter around him. 

“Oh fuck Honey Bee I’m so deep,” he moaned, squeezing tighter, making you more light headed. “Doin such a good job, you need to tap out Sugar?” 

You shook your head no as best you could, head swimming and body buzzing as he chokes you with his hand and cock. 

“Can feel my fat cock moving inside you Baby, so damn hot, making me even fucking harder.” 

He kept thrusting into your throat slowly, careful to not actually choke you. You were getting a little high from the lack of oxygen, far more aroused by it than you ever thought you could be. You only tapped out when black dots started to swim in your vision. 

Jack pulled free without hesitation, crouching in front of you to check you were alright as the obstruction in your throat was gone and your lungs heaved in oxygen. 

You gulped down air hungrily as Jack kissed your face in praise. 

 “Did so well baby, so proud of you, you took me all the way,” he murmured, nose nuzzling along your hairline. He waited for you to be ready to continue , and when your breathing had calmed and you gave him a nod to continue, he kissed your forehead, stood up and pulled you to your feet with him. 

“As promised, my little girl deserves her reward,” he growled, nodding over to an armchair by the sliding door. “Go sit,” he ordered softly. 

You scrambled to comply, anticipating your reward with glee. 

He sauntered over, discarding his stetson on the coffee table before kneeling down in front of you, hooking his fingers into your sleep shorts. 

“Up,” he gently instructed, pulling them down your legs as you lifted your hips for him.

He brought the shorts up to his face and inhaled your scent, licking up the crotch of them to taste the juices that soaked them. 

“My baby tastes so good,” he praised, discarding the shorts over his shoulder. “Spread ‘em wide for me Sugar,” he said, gently coaxing your leg apart and licking his lips. 

He didn’t tease, intent on giving you your much deserved reward as he drank you down and shoved his tongue deep into your dripping hole. 

Your back arched, eyes closed and thighs shook, he pulled them over his shoulders to give himself more room, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs to hold them still.

You whimpered in delight, gripping his hair and pulling him deeper, his eyes cut up at you, letting you know that at any other time, an action would not be tolerated, and he would have you reprimanded for being greedy. 

But this was your reward, you deserved it. 

Jack did not hide his messy noises as he ate you out like a man starved, wet smacks of his lips on your lower lips, the sound of his skin coming into contact with your dripping thighs, his moans and your sounds of pleasure filled the room. 

You gasped when you felt a thick finger prod at your hole, pushing up into you beside his tongue. Your head snapped down to watch as he slowly pumped his finger into you, his tongue began lapping up your folds until he reached your clit, suckling on it gently. 

“Daddy!” You whimpered, pushing your hips up further into his face. 

He gave you a cocky grin as a second finger joined the first, stretching you out so perfectly, his fingers were so much thicker than yours, fuck you loved his fingers so much, and he knew just where to stroke to make your body sing. In such a short time he had learnt your body better than you ever had. 

“My Baby wants to cum?” He asked, running his tongue over your folds again. 

“Yes, please Daddy,” you pleaded. 

“Daddy prefers when you’re patient Baby. But you earned it tonight,” he growled, standing up with his fingers still inside you. Your legs dropped from his shoulders as he leant over you to nibble at your ear, you felt your juices that still coating his jaw as his skin met yours.

He abandoned his slow pumps of his hand, fucking you hard and fast with his skilled fingers. You keened under him, writhing at the sudden change. 

“Look outside that window Baby,” he ordered in your ear hotly. “There's still people out and about, all they have to do is look up here, and they’d see you getting fucked by my hand.” 

You felt your core clench around his fingers at his words, a wave of your arousal flooding out, soaking his hand. 

“You like that idea Sugar? You like the idea of some stranger seeing my fingers buried in this pussy?”

You whimpered and tried to thrust up into his hand. 

“Answer the question!” He growled.

“Y-Yes Daddy!” You cried, panting hard as you felt your pleasure building. 

“Yeah? You get off on the idea of someone else seeing you? Seeing what’s mine?”

He sucked a mark into your neck, hoping it would show tomorrow, his secret little claim. 

“Want everyone to see you? Like some kind of common whore? You’re mine Baby, don’t you forget that.” 

“T-that's what i want them to see!” You whined, racing towards the edge, hoping he wouldn’t deny you as he often did to tease. “I want them to see who-who I belong to!”

He growled in approval. 

“Yeah? What else Baby?” He asked, encouraging your line of thought. 

“W-want them to see...That you’re- you’re the only one who can make me cum, that you’re the only one good enough!” 

“Oh Baby you sure know what to say to stroke your Daddy’s ego,” he hummed in pride. “Go on then, show them, show anyone watching how hard Daddy makes you cum.” 

You were already well on your way to your pleasure when he gave you permission to cum, but he helped you along by diving down and sucking hard on your clit. 

Your back arched further as you screamed out his name, your walls clenching hard over his furious fingers, as they attacked that sweet deep spot inside you on a mission. 

It hurt how powerful your orgasm was, how hard his fingers fucked you through it. And as it washed over you you were ready for him to pull out, for him to let you come down from your high, but his fingers did not slow. 

You mewled, sensitive and sore from your first orgasm as you felt him forcing your body towards a second one already. 

“D-Daddy, too- too much!” You whined, wriggling in his grasp. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his teasing tone told you he didn’t believe you, he moved his head away from your clit to look you in the eyes, speeding up his fingers. “What’s your color then?”

Your hips began thrusting up to meet his hand again. 

“Color Baby?” He reminded. 

“Green,” bucking up hard now into his hand to chase your fast approaching second high. 

“Thought so,” he hummed, taking your nipple into his mouth through your bralette, gently sucking on it and tugging it with his teeth. 

When he had soaked the fabric and thoroughly teased you he released it.

“You’re going to cum again for me, that's your reward. Daddys going to make you cum so hard your pretty little pussy will be ruined tomorrow.” 

You sobbed under him, anticipating how tantalizingly sore you would be with great delight. 

“Come on, be a good little girl for me and cum,” he cooed, grabbing your jaw with his free hand to make you look at him, his face only inches away from yours. 

“Cum for Daddy, and I’ll fuck you right up against that window for everyone to watch.” 

Your stomach flipped at the thought and your core tightened around his fingers again. 

“If it weren't so damn cold out there I’d fuck you right on that balcony, so the whole of Rome can hear your screams for me.” 

He brushed your clit with his thumb as the words fell from his mouth, pushing you over the edge for a second time. 

“That's it Baby, cum for Daddy,” he cooed softly, lips ghosting yours. “Squeezing my fingers so tight. Can't wait till my cocks all snug up in there, my favorite, perfect little hole.” 

His words made your second orgasm just as powerful as the first, you shook hard in your chair and screamed loudly until your voice was hoarse. You tried to muffle the scream with your hands which, until now,  had been gripping the armrest for dear life ever since Jack removed himself from between your legs. 

He was having none of that however, grabbing your wrists in his hand and pulling them away from your face to hear your screams of pleasure. 

He coaxed your orgasm as long as he could, slowing his fingers but still thrusting them hard inside you. Dragging it out.

You shook from the aftershocks each time his fingers shoved up against your cervix, whimpering as your breathing struggled to return to normal and body tried to unwind. 

He pulled his fingers free from you, loving how your pussy tried to suck them back inside. You mewled at the loss despite how oversensitive you were. 

He held up his hand to inspect it, proudly displaying how drenched it was in your cum. 

“Look at that Baby, down past the wrist...You horny little thing,” he rasped, letting you watch as he wrapped his slick coated hand around his neglected cock, pumping it slowly, you could hear the wet pass of his hand with each pump.

“Stand up,” he ordered gently, not helping you as you stood up on shaky legs, struggling to comply as your legs threatened to give out underneath you.  

“Top needs to go too Honey Bee,” he instructed, watching you with predatory eyes as you raised your arms, taking the sexy little Bralette off and discarding it somewhere behind you. 

“Up against the window, arms up.” 

You wobbled over slowly, sighing as your body touched the cool glass. 

You felt so exposed up against the glass, despite the fact there was no one currently walking about outside, and there was no light in the living area now that the TV was off,  the only light source being the lights outside, lighting up the coliseum. 

You could see Jack's reflection in the glass as he came up behind you, stepping out of his sweats. You could hear him still pumping his cock with you slick.

Your back arched as he ran the tip of his cock over your dripping folds, making you gasp and shudder.

“Poor Baby, still so sensitive,” he teased, pushing you against the cold glass with his free hand, making your nipples tighten painfully at the chill. You wriggled slightly as he pushed his hips forward, tip entering your hole. 

“Shhhh Baby, Daddy needs his fair share too, needs to fuck your pussy,” he sighed, your tight wet heat slowly enveloped him as he slowly inched his hips forward. 

“Need to make you cum. One last time.” He emphasized the statement by snapping his hips forwards, filling you up completely as his hips slapped up against your ass. 

He gave your oversensetive body only a moment to adjust to the stretch before wrapping an arm around you and fucking into you hard and fast. His free arm grasped your neck, lightly choking you again as his cock hammered into you.

“Fuck, so wet baby. Your cums soaking me, dripping down Daddys balls,” he rasped into your ear.

Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Slap.  Slap, filled the room as you were shoved up against the glass with each thrust. 

You cried at the delicious stretch, at how he made your tender, sore hole buzz with pleasure every time he shoved himself inside,  at how your body stung from the cold glass, and at the filth he rambled into your ear. 

“My perfect pussy, Daddy’s pretty little princess. Think about how anyone could walk past. Could see you,” he teased, turning you on more. “Stuffed full of my cock, wouldn’t be hard, this low down, just need to turn their head a lil bit, ‘s all it would take to see you.” 

You moaned at his words, tightening around him. 

“Fuck, squeezing me so tight,” he whispered in awe,thrusting harder into you. 

You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the delirium of being fucked by him, trying hard not to cum around him until he gave you permission. 

He didn’t like it when you came without his permission.

He chuckled darkly into your ear, slowing his thrusts down to teasing rolls of the hips. “There's someone now,” he rasped, watching someone walk by further down the street, you cracked your eyes open and could see just how close they were, close enough that if you called out with the window open, they would hear. 

“I don’t think they’ve spotted us. Let’s see if we can change that shall we?” He suggested with another dark laugh, letting go of your neck to grip your hips with both hands, making it much easier to thrust inside you and leaving nothing to silence your noises as he slammed into you again with the same speed as before. 

You shrieked, watching with wide eyes at the passer by, hoping he did not hear.

It was annoying just how arousing the idea of this stranger catching the two of you was. 

Before you could even stop yourself, you came around Jack’s cock without warning. No build up, no tensing, it hit you so suddenly you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you had tried. 

He growled angrily behind you, pausing his thrusts as you squeezed him hard, as your walls fluttered and tried to milk his cock. 

 There was no way you could hide what you just did, it may have snuck up on you fast but he felt it. Felt you squeeze him and shake in his grasp. 

“Did you just fucking cum Baby?” He snarled. “Without Daddy’s permission?” 

“I’m sorry!” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to, it happened so fast!” 

“You got off  to the thought of some stranger seeing you, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered pathetically, not wanting to anger him further by lying to him.

“Such a filthy little slut,” he berated, rocking back into you. “If Daddy didn’t need to cum so bad I'd punish you right now. Throw you over my knee and remind you that Daddy owns your orgasms.” 

“I know Daddy! I’m sorry! So sorry!” 

“I believe you Baby, but that don't change the rules. Doesn’t mean you get away without some sort of punishment.” He licked the shell of your ear, nibbling at you lightly. 

“Tomorrow night, I really will destroy your pussy. I’ll hold you down and fuck you so hard, till you cum so many times you pass out, never letting up until you’re beggin me to. Daddy will choose how many times you cum, when you cum, and how hard you cum, to remind you your pleasure belongs to me.” 

You sniveled, panting as your breath fogged up the glass.

“Y-Yes Daddy,” you agreed. 

“Now stay still, Daddy gonna fill you up, get you nice and creamy.”

His rocks built back up to the harsh thrusts, reserving no gentleness for you as his grip would no doubt leave bruises on your hips the next day. 

He growls, the steady slap of his thrusts, bumping of glass and the blood rushing in your ear was all you could hear. 

And even though you had already cum three times, you could feel a fourth bubbling deep inside, warming you up. 

He pounded you against the glass. 

He cursed as his thrusts became frenzied, violent bucks up against your ass as he chased his release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, here it comes!” He bellowed, digging his teeth into your shoulder and marking you hard. He groaned against your skin as his hot cum flooded you. You felt it fill you and warm you up, even if he didn’t let you cum again, you adored the sensation of him filling you up each time.

His thrusts slowed as you felt his seed begin to leak out around his length. 

You mewled at the loss of the orgasm you knew he wouldn’t have given you anyway. 

He pulled out slowly, releasing your shoulder and watching as his softening length fell from you. 

Your knees buckled, but Jack was quick to catch you before you fell and scoop you up into his arms. 

“There we go Baby,” he murmured, gently nosing at your temple. “Let's get you sorted.”

As usual Jack’s aftercare consisted of his soft praises as he tended to your physical needs. 

He washed you, tended to your marks, dressed you back into your new pajamas, and tucked you into bed. You drifted in and out of his care, only catching a few words here and there.  

“Good girl”, “Did so well,” and “So proud,” were the familiar praises you heard.

 He joined you under the warm blankets when he decided you had been thoroughly cared for, pulling you close to his chest to snuggle and murmur affections at you. You nuzzled deeper into his warmth, completely boneless and spent, listening to the gentle timbre of his voice as you drifted off. 

That night you dream about old castles and handsome southern princes.

credit to @talesfromtheguild​ for this little bit

“Hmm...” “What are you hmming about over there?” “You’d look good with a little blonde patch.” “Shut up.”

Tag list:

@thats-one-tender-foot​  @luminescentlily​ @nuttybeardetective​ @ishqinbbc​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @calamity-queen​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @talesfromtheguild​ @the-arctic-violet​  @jeeperky​ @mando-amando​

[falling-feuilles]

Chapter 6

TW/CW: Major Character Death, Childbirth, Blood

The days following the letter's arrival were hard. To keep Lise from worrying, Marya and Y/N were forced to keep up appearances, made to quietly grieve during the night when the rest of the household slept. The Old Prince’s already miserable attitude was exacerbated to the point where Y/N refused to eat meals with the man, opting to dine in her own quarters instead.

One particular day, Y/N spent its first half attempting to write her letter to Pierre, to no avail. If only it had come as easy to her as it did to the employees who wrote to first inform them of his passing. After spending nearly an hour trying to write the first sentence, she dropped her head, laying her cheek upon the smooth chestnut, letting out a weary sigh.

“N/N, are you quite well?” Marya stuck her head through the door, noting Y/N’s disheveled appearance.

“Yes, I… I’m trying to write to Pierre to… to tell him about Andrei. He deserves to hear it from one of us rather than in passing at some ridiculous fete.”

Marya sighed, peering out into the hall once more before closing the door, stepping fully into the room.

“You’re right, it would be best to hear it from you as well, you and him are quite close.”

“Quite… I only wish he could just know without me having to tell him… it’s going to send him spiraling Marya, I almost fear he won’t recover…”

“I know… maybe you should put it off for a few more days; you, father, and I are the only people who know, not even Tikhon and the servants are aware. You said Pierre was traveling, yes?”

“I believe so, or he will be shortly, why do you ask?”

“If you send the letter and it arrives when he isn’t there, who do you think will open it?”

“Helene.”

“Precisely, and we both know she won’t be nearly as kind about it. Until we know for sure where he is and where Helene isn’t, I think you should bide your time.”

“You are right, as usual. Marya,” Y/N placed her hand on Marya’s shoulder, “Thank you, you are a true friend, I surely would have gone mad with worry were it not for you.”

Marya smiled, weary face breaking into uncharacteristic joy.

“I am merely returning the favor. Now, I should head to Father’s study, he has me working on a new lesson today, I barely understood the last one.”

She sighed, turning to the door.

“Supposing I were to go to your chambers at, say, eight o’clock? Would you perhaps have the time for a tutoring session?”

Marya nodded, leaving the room. Y/N, after ensuring Marya was out of earshot, slammed her fist onto the desk, causing the various bottles and trinkets placed upon it to jump in the air, clattering back down to the darkly stained surface.

“Damn it…”

~

The fields surrounding the Bolkonsy property were vast, colored dark emerald by the night sky. Had it been in the city, Y/N would never have risked walking at such a time. However, in the country, escorted by a large shire, she felt perfectly safe. The stars, while visible in the city, shown twice as bright in the clear skies, unclouded and free from the countless buildings decorating the streets of St Petersburg. From her perch on Emil's broad back, the rolling meadows stretched on for acres, encumbered only by the wooded groves sprinkled across the estate. The thin, winding path beneath her was neglected, unused by the members of the household. The vast property had many paths strewn throughout, only a small number remained in use. Although Prince Bolkonsky regularly walked the property, he only ever used the same trail. He was a man of habit, exact to the point of madness.

A small rustling to her left startled Emil, causing him to shuffle away, snorting indignantly.

"Easy, easy..."

Lightly, she sprung down from the saddle, landing firmly on the mottled path. Unwilling to move closer, and unable to flee her side, Emil stood perfectly still, hot air issuing from his snout.

Calmly, she moved towards the brush, noting the movement of the grasses. Carefully parting the grass, she found a small litter fox cub, rolling around in the leaves, struggling to re-orient itself. A few meters away, she noted the familiar signs of a fox burrow, tucked into the side of the small mound to her right. Kneeling next to the small creature, she heard it whimpering, calling for its mother. Gently, she scooped the small creature into her arm, creeping quietly towards the den. By the moonlight, she saw a few other small figures curled up, guarded by their mother. Her head was up, pitch black eyes fixed on Y/N, ready to pounce should the need arise.

"Don't fret, I'm just here to return this little one."

Y/N held out the small ball of fur, catching the attention of the mother. She shuffled forward, wary, but determined. Nudging her nose into the cubs fur, she bit down on the nape of its neck, lifting it from her gloved hands.

She stood to leave, but the ribs pushing through the mother's silvery fur gave her pause. Holding out a hand, hoping she would understand the gesture, Y/N hurried back to Emil; he was calmer, knowing the mysterious creature was just a fox seemed to calm his nerves, though he still watched the malnourished canine with his large, muddy eyes.

Digging through Emil's vast saddlebags, Y/N searched for the small tied bag hidden deep in its recesses. Finally, her fingers brushed the familiar canvas, drawing it out of the leather satchel.

"Here," she held out a hunk of salted meat, allowing the mother to inspect it. After a few good sniffs, she gingerly removed it from Y/N's fingers, scarfing it down. The cub was nowhere in sight, presumably hidden back in the darkness of the burrow.

Expectantly, the mother looked to Y/N again, nudging her hand. Chuckling, she held out another piece, feeling the fox's damp nose brush her fingers.

After ensuring the mother was properly fed, Y/N stood back up again, tentatively placing a hand on the fox's head, scratching the spot just behind her pointed ears.

The cubs began to whine, calling for their mother. With one last look towards Y/N, she stalked back into the den, disappearing from view. She swung her leg back over the saddle, grasping the reins with her hand.

"Come, Emil, let's head back before someone notices we've gone."

He huffed, trotting along the path, back towards the faint lights of the house.

~

The next morning, she made her way to the small dining room to break fast with the ladies of the household. Marya, seated primly at the head of the table, looked to her as she entered, gesturing for her to take a seat. Lise, seated to her right, looked highly uncomfortable.

"Lise, are you quite well?"

Y/N sat beside her sister, placing a hand to her forehead.

"Yes, yes... something in my breakfast must have disagreed with me-"

"Look at her. She's very pale!" Bourienne stood, looking closer at Lise's face.

She let out a sharp whimper of pain, dropping her spoon.

"Lise... I think it's time."

"We'd better send for Maria Bogdanovna," Bourienne moved forward, placing her hand on Marya's arm.

"Yes, I think you're right, I'll go and see to it." Marya sped away, muttering frantically under her breath.

"Courage, mon ange!" Bourienne pressed a kiss to Lise's cheek,

Lise was in clear distress, grasping her sister's hand. Y/N stood by her side, brushing Lise's blond locks away from her damp face.

"No! Can it be, so soon? But surely it's just a stomach ache?"

"It's best to be on the safe side, ma cherie."

With help from Bourienne and another of the maids, Y/N managed to get Lise into the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed.

"Lise, look at me, you have to breathe, you'll be just fine."

~

The next few hours passed in a miserable tirade of screaming, stress, and no small amount of fear. Like her father, Lise had a weak heart; while not nearly as detrimental to her health, it was the main reason physicians were so insistent she rested frequently, even more than the average expectant mother would. Y/N, although she begged to be let inside the room, she was denied each time. Instead of being by her sister’s side, she waited by the window, eyes searching desperately for the carriage bearing the doctor. Marya stepped nearer, lowering herself to sit beside Y/N.

“Have you heard anything from the midwife?”

“No,” Marya placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, “But, they did say you could see her for a moment or two.”

“Truly?” Marya nodded, moving so Y/N could pass her, making a beeline straight for the room.

Inside, Lise lay sprawled on the bed, coated in sweat, face twisted into a pained grimace. Her breath came in short pants, dry and uneven. Y/N dashed to her side, nearly pushing over a nearby maid. Lise reached out her hand, grasping tightly at Y/N's as another painful contraction wracked her frail body.

"Sister... you... y..."

"Shhh, hush, my darling Lise, all will be well, you're doing wonderfully, I'm so proud of you."

The midwife moved to Y/N's side, all but shoving her away.

"My lady you must leave."

"I... yes, of course, Lise," she bent over her sister's prone form, pressing a kiss to her damp cheek, "I will see you as soon as I can, alright? I love you."

Y/N was pushed from the room before Lise could murmur a response. Down the hall, she noticed Marya jump from her seat next to the window, dashing down the stairs. Y/N followed on her heels, skirts bunched in her hands.

The night air was fresh and cool, a drastic change from the warm, stale air of Lise's room. Stepping outside, Y/N could see what drew Marya out the door, the doctor's carriage.

"Thank god, what took so-" Y/N stopped, eyes catching the face of the man exiting the carriage. "A... Andrei..."

Marya rushed forward to embrace her brother, leaping into his arms. Y/N stood back, eyes wide, open-mouthed.

How?! I thought... she said...

"Andrei, Lise is inside." Her voice was quiet. Even. But dreadfully quiet. Was it the shock? Fear, even? Regardless, the group didn't have much time to waste, the doctor hurried up the front steps, guided by Marya. Andrei followed quickly behind, leaving Y/N to take up the tail end of the chase.

"You..." Lise gasped as he entered the room, reaching for him.

"My darling..." He took her face in his hands, pressing a feverish kiss to her forehead. Before any further words could be exchanged, the doctor moved to Andrei's side, placing a hand on his arm.

"If you would wait outside, your Excellency. I must insist, it's for the best." Andrei, despite his wish to remain, left the room, wincing as Lise let out another pained yell.

Y/N, still grappling with Andrei's return, sat outside, stiff as a board. With each of Lise's cries, her fingertips dug more and more tightly into the ball of her thumb; soft flesh yielding beneath the increasing pressure. Andrei, seemingly unable to stand by any longer, made another futile attempt to enter.

He barely managed to open the door a crack before it was slammed in his face.

"No, no, you mustn't come in!"

A few more moments passed.

Another intense scream. A few seconds of silence. Then, the cry of a baby. Andrei flew into the room, Y/N hot on his trail.

The doctor stood, holding a small, damp bundle in his arms. At the sight of Andrei, he quickly transferred the swaddling to the new father's arms.

"Your son, your excellency..."

Y/N moved to Lise's side, noting the blood staining the sheets. It was everywhere. Coating her skin, pooled beneath her, leaving a sticky, scarlet film on the midwife's hands.

It was too much. Far too much.

"Lise...? Lise please..."

No response. Y/N moved closer, grabbing her hand. It was limp in her grasp, lifeless. She knew, and yet, she refused to believe it.

"I'm sorry, your excellency... she's gone..."

[thelightiningthief]

14

first of all, SORRY that this is coming much later than probably expected!!!! i’m So Bad at writing things in a timely manner

second of all, timelines are....not my strongsuit, so i’m gonna make this idk the summer between botl and tlo so PLEASE bear with me here

chilly summer evenings

Percy lay on the bottom bunk of Cabin 3, staring up at the pictures stuck between the frame and the mattress above him. His arm had already gone numb from propping up his head, but that was the least of his worries.

It was the first of August. The beginning of the month that decided his fate. Well, Percy would be the one making the decision, but it was still the Big Month everyone had been waiting for: the prophecy coming true, the imminent war, Kronos’s impending return in Luke’s body. All of it put a sour taste in his mouth that the fresh sea breeze from the Long Island Sound couldn’t whisk away. It wasn’t like he could do anything right now, though, so why was he still up?

Well, there was one picture in particular that kept drawing his attention: It was him and Annabeth after they’d just won the chariot race together, right before Thalia had been de-tree-ified. The edges of the photograph were frayed from how many times he’d held it in his hands, shoved it into his pockets, and crammed it into whatever small space he could. While it was supposed to be in the Big House on Chiron’s cork board, Percy had asked him if he could hold onto it until the end of the summer. Chiron knew this might be his last summer (hell, it might be the last summer any of them would enjoy), so he relented it to him. Ever since, Percy had stared at it any chance he got, memorizing the happiness it held. A small glimmer of hope.

What he was really looking at, though, the thing that sourced all of that hope in a tiny bottle, was Annabeth’s smile. Percy must have already traced that giant and rare smile a thousand times, practically having imprinted it to the back of his eyelids, but he didn’t think he could ever get sick of it.

Things between them had been... Strange. Good strange! Well, sometimes bad strange... But overall just strange? Did that make sense?

Who was he kidding—nothing made sense anymore. They were on the brink of war for Zeus’s sake! But Annabeth had kissed him before he almost died (for the bajillionth time), but they still hadn’t talked about it. Every time Percy even thought about bringing it up to her, his head felt like cotton and he couldn’t feel his knees. At first, he thought a wood nymph was messing with him, but Grover and Beckendorf both said he was probably just nervous.

They were a lot closer than last summer. But he could say that about any of his friends! Him and Beckendorf had been talking a lot more, too! Most of their talks had to do with Annabeth and Percy’s giant crush on her, but that was besides the point.

Before he could even consider actually turning in for the night, there’s a sharp rap at his door. His body is up with a hand flying to his—oh, right, he’s in boxers. Percy considers his game plan when there’s another knock, a bit more urgent this time. “C’mon, Seaweed Brain! It’s freezing out here!”

His once held breath catches in his throat. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to late nights like this with Annabeth, but it was the first one since everything went down. Since they’d destroyed the Labyrinth. Since he’d practically killed himself. Since she’d kissed him.

“That’s it, I’m just coming in,” she huffed out, clearly annoyed. (Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last time.) Then Percy’s cabin door was opening right before his eyes to reveal... No one. Just a gust of cold wind that raised goosebumps on his bare skin. He shivered as the door closed just as eerily, and Annabeth finally took off her Yankee’s cap only to punch his arm.

“Ow!” he winced and rubbed the spot. “What was that for?”

“Dude it’s freezing out there, and you were just standing here? Figures,” she rolled her eyes and threw herself onto his scattered bed.

Percy bristled at the slight jab. “Well, sorry! You kind of just dropped in!”

“Excuse me, I came in the front door. And you had more than enough time to put on pants, at least,” she pointed out, covering his lower half with her hands with a giggle.

A harsh blush crept up his cheeks, and he quickly moved to his dresser as she continued to laugh at his embarrassment. He was just buttoning up his jeans when Percy noticed Annabeth was lying back on his bed, mimicking the pose he’d held just ten minutes before. In the dim light from the moon, he could just see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Where’d you get all these pictures?” she whispered out.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking over to the fountain Poseidon had gifted to him. “Uh, all over, I guess? They just kept popping up, and I’d asked Chiron if I could have a few.” He said the last part faster than the rest, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on it.

Annabeth’s head perked up to look at him sideways, her gray eyes a bit wider than they had been a moment prior. She searched his own green ones for an answer to an unasked question. It wasn’t difficult for Percy to feel as though he were being scrutinized and start to feel self conscious about the whole situation. Was she seeing right through him?

“What? I just—I just wanted the memories, I guess,” he mumbled out, crossing his arms semi-defensively.

She peered up at him for longer, her eyebrows coming down slowly yet decisively. He didn’t know if he should say something, but he didn’t even know where to start. Yeah, I’ve pretty much collected pictures of us to stare at late at night, because I kinda really like you. In fact, you caught me in the middle of doing that tonight! Ha! Great timing, by the way. Gods, that’d just be weird!

Suddenly, she was up and dragging him by the arm out the door of his cabin. “Let’s go, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy barely had enough time to snatch his blanket from the bed before they were thrust out into the chilly evening air. There was no need to worry about harpies with impending war, but Apollo and Artemis seriously needed to work something out, because it felt completely unprecedented to be this cold at the beginning of August. His teeth were chattering by the time Annabeth had plopped herself down on the sand of the beach, dragging him down with her; she took the blanket clenched in his freezing fists and worked determinedly to wrap them both within it.

After a moment of simply basking in the sudden warmth, Percy became uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Annabeth. To make matters worse, if he scooched even a little to his right, the blanket would completely relent and let in that frigid sea air. So, he sat perfectly still, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

“You okay, Perce? We can go back if you want,” she said with a slight twinge in her voice that made him look at her for what felt like the first time that night.

Her hair was glowing in the moonlight, silver as if she had joined the Hunters, yet still that bright golden ray of light Percy was so accustomed to seeing a dirty blonde after weeks on a quest. The gray streak that matched his own was tucked behind her ear, and a reminder of a time of longing that he’d rather forget. It was difficult to see in just moonlight, but he could definitely tell her cheeks were flushed, especially with all the staring he was doing at her. In all honesty, it felt as if he were studying a painting. A splash of freckles and a few stray zits were scattered across her face, like brush strokes to a canvas.

However, it was her eyes that made him see the true meaning behind the work. People may call Percy dumb, but there was no mistaking the trust Annabeth was pouring into her downturned, storm-cloud eyes. They were focused so forcedly on his own, that he couldn’t help but come back to them each time he attempted to look at the rest of her face. It took him by surprise, because how could she trust someone like him so wholeheartedly? He’d nearly gotten her killed too many times—at some points he had almost been the one to do it.

“How can you do that?” he asked, looking out to the waves crashing on shore and breaking the trance that was Annabeth.

She had been leaning in just slightly, but jerked back just as much once he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Blinking slowly, Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “What d’you mean?”

He sighed almost exasperatedly, but it was too halfhearted to get anywhere. The next set of waves crashed a little harder than before. “I mean, how can you look at me like I’ll never do anything to hurt you? Like I’m not—not about to decide the fate of the world? Not about to destroy everything just by existing? St. Helen wasn’t even me trying, Annabeth. What else am I capable of?”

There was silence. As silent as it could get with a heavily breathing boy on a beach with a girl looking at him with that kind of look so full of something that everything has to be quiet, just for the time being.

“Percy...” Annabeth started, quieter than the now-swirling sea, “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

His eyes found hers again, both of their eyebrows knit together like the sweaters they’d wished they brought. Again, Percy was so aware of her warmth seeping into him, keeping him present. “Why wouldn’t you be?” His soft voice carried itself to span the few inches between them, once more holding the weight of the world in their midst.

For a second, Annabeth looked as though she was going to laugh, but decided against it. At first, it could be brushed off as a ridiculous thought, but she knew what Percy was capable of right now—what about when he grew more fully into his powers? She shook her head, No, not even then.

“Percy.” She said his name more resolutely this time, placing her hand on his shoulder to turn him towards her. “You may have power none of us will ever know, but...you’re you. It’s not like you’re some evil mastermind plotting against us.”

A single, unsaid name hung in the air.

“How do you know, though? You’ve heard the prophecy.” Percy’s eyes were searching her own again, looking for some hint of doubt.

Annabeth sighed sadly, letting go of his shoulder and pulling him into her arms. “Because—‘Cause the Percy I know wouldn’t destroy a world with his mom in it. The Percy I know wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.” She took a cold breath, smoothing her hand on his back. “And the Percy I know wouldn’t let some stupid prophecy try to stop him from protecting the people he loves.”

Percy stayed still, frozen, but not from the midnight air. “How do you know I’m that Percy still?” The whisper was slightly muffled from Annabeth’s curly hair, but she’d heard him all the same, as signaled by her hand stopping in the middle of its up and down motion.

“I just know.” And it was said with the finality only a daughter of Athena could possess, could hold within her, and could throw back at someone whenever they questioned her.

It was no use for Percy to fight it anymore, so he finally, finally, finally relaxed into her arms, pulling his own around her. The waves slowed on the beach, taking to being pulled by the moon once again. And, for once, they simply sat there, surrounded by a now-sandy blanket that he’d probably have to wash the next morning and an unrelenting breeze that hardly bothered them. Sure, in two weeks time Percy would most likely be dying at the foot of a crumbled Olympus, but he couldn’t worry about that with the cool sea air filling his lungs and Annabeth’s calloused hand rubbing circles into his back. No, that could wait with the blanket.

[adanfourty]

Life In Neon ~ cHapters Of the dreaMing hEart

Part I: A Piece Of Mind

----------------------- I. Simple abundance in an empty life II. Stop III. Projection IV. Come To Theism V. Enter the Threshold

Part II : The Sea of Moonlight ------------------------------ White Feathers Atrium Universal Rain Shade Naissance Home

Part III: Pandora's Clock ------------------------- First. Second. Then I see you Third. Air Fourth. Trumpet of Million's child Fifth. Realitv Sixth. Water Seventh. Closure Finale. Memoire, a scene in a lifetime

Part I: A Piece Of Mind

----------------------- In A Room Without A View

When there is reason, I awake in silence

Please enter, The door is open

I. Simple abundance in an empty life ...

The scent of passion after loneliness A hope of jubilation in life Coming closer to a dream A prelude before the plot

This time, the sunset becomes sunrise in my heart

Her sway, wavering in soft motion Guarding, away from polarity

She is herself not another other than her own self Only she can dance alone without a hint of loneliness That whiff of uncommon independence without arrogance With her right palm always open to the wind, A sign of welcomed company, only if she grants

She's a prelude to a drama An overture to a rhapsody

II. Loose-skin-loose drift, truth abuse truth to mute [St*p]

A new consciousness arises from the abyssimal gap, along with the voices of the singing colours, with the company of colourful rain.

A sighs escapes her as her old consciousness deteriorates.

Though silence is golden, it can also be a sign of unbelievable pain.

Terribly one sided, the consciousness gains space only in her extreme. Though it resembles a lesser four letter word, it cannot be spelled as of yet.

To her it came, through her it goes.

It escapes with swiftness by the way of her fingers and unto the three middle strings.

Now the top.

Now the bottom.

A play of ease and enjoyment, like a teardrop of meaning. There's release and meaning in her words, spoken through the melody escaping her fingers. Weaving phrase by phrase into sentences. Line by line into paragraphs. And chapter by chapter into a story, written in the air to her listeners' ears.

She tells her tale.

A drop of colour in melody's landscape First vivid, then lucid, then luminous The story of song and emotion, of motion and sound

Hikari luminates her enticing configuration Dancing fingers, dancing harmony Another conciousness slowly takes presence...

III. Grapple dream drama and colliding day of another mind [?`jection}

She said that fate can intertwine and leave you speechless Between your eyes and mine we share the same story Especially in this corrupted world of mounting decadence Nothing can hold truth and honesty together

As I wave my hand in the air, I motion you to come closer Start this endless romance

Not between you and I But between trust and committance

Wait for silence Wait for sleep Wait for peace

Then we can touch ..in dreams..

Metropolis doesn't want us to sleep Less it let us inhabbit our dreams Only to pieces of the shattered It can only resolve in our disloyalty

Total mindcrime it says, cannot rebuke There's no rebutle, but an end of statement

Pandemonium clouds temporary judgement A short analysis of ourselves

We cannot be subjected to distinctive terms We are fictional

City of blurring lights in swaying darkness Inverse luminary overshadows heartly judgement

"Tell me more..." "Tell me about myself"

IV. Let silence fall assunder as a boundary (ome to 7heism

Escape in makna ~e%ca]>e~ Don't let it be abstract

Have we been transformed? Apostle of today's corporate culture

Would you have changed a thing ? Destruction of the left brain regime

There is a cycle, which determines life and dharma In the starlit sky of human's silver sea of madness On the seeming horizon, inately seen A lonely silver surfer, Comes to push the wheel for me.

"Gotta move" (

"Gotta move" ^

"Gotta move that wheel right round" )

"Push the wheel of dharma round"

Repeat,

Repeat until the end of perdition

This re|>etition is road to redemption

This hand, can you feel it's touch? Now don't let go.

V. Enter this threshold, where you're }afe w/ m{E

Could it be that you and I have grown to love each other, In the dense aura of this lonely city, full of bitterness? True feelings can never hide much long, For whatever covers, cannot hide from true sight

The wind carried your cries, your wishes, your tears. And when I held my hand out to the sky, I caught some of your dreams.

The misty air partialy hides the growing flowers Blooming without sunlight, to the music of the marionettes Quartet players with classical aptitude Flowing melody in rivers of song

Endless...

Love, love, love, love, beautiful life In the eyes of a lover

Love, love, love, love, merciful touch As if in another dream

Dahlia...

Yes we are, I say we are destined Nothing else but nature that guides The wind, the solstice, the leaves Le ciel's faint whispering Warm snow welcomes this gardenia

Let's enter together...

Part II : The Sea of Moonlight ------------------------------

I dream of a blue nightingale

Not a dream. a perchance SDelirium guide me through this dance

a pointer. an address SPathway leading to this glass

not a form. a code SLanguages, conversations I do not recall

From a faraway place . . . The structured becomes the harmonic, then the frail

White Feathers: ---------------

Start of a lasting imperfect feeling A blissful impression unhindered This slight cut, an apothema Sweetening the shape of a tale

More poetry than justice A judgement in a poem

The tale paints itself a caligraphy Cornering prose to naratic ballad

Few words write themselves as prelude to a dream An overture towards realization Forging a small footstep for an elegy A move towards the end of a chapter

Before planting a kiss on the cheek Take a step out of square one

Atrium Universal: -----------------

I can feel the city itself Living, pulsing through me

I can feel the city itself Breathing in my own breath

At night's first saunter Tides, affairs subtly sweeping

Affairs yielding agnomen Pastly borrowed, then lent, now buried

Not a monumentous rite, A forecourting repose of endeavor

Melfluous, degree, decimal

The wall, the crack, the breach A light, a hope, A piece of reverence A sigh, a gleam, A benevolence

Neon. again a blinding, Charges, pistol, crackpot

Rain: -----

Swaying Petals, Fluttering Sight

Resting in silence Peace in the chaos that surrounds

Hiding within metropolis' fog

Out of reach Out of touch

Lit lanterns sway westbound Path seeking seem astray

Only patience can persevere Only time can lead the way

Only a woman

"A deepened interlude as an intro to a greater truth."

In phrases she speak In riddles she keep

Feel, a longing to be Only little she has

Not much left in her palm Desperately trying to keep

Err on the side of safety

"Here belies the safety of my sanctuary."

Trusting no one Careful not to love

Metropolis. weaves her coccoon

Silence within a storm

Survival is her language Passion is her secret

"Lesser I believe in myself, so I hide."

Shade: ------

A tide to ebb, A shoreline A flow, a motion A gaze

Once, a woman Twice, a sun Thrice, a nephentes

I feel the breze A neophytic caress, innocence So much to long for So much to ebb and lose

Subliminal violence An abstract for laterality

I'll always remember The news of a fog, The songs of a deaf

No echo in the halls No lesson but in our own

A feeling, inside her Notwithstanding a fall Silence for the requiem Not now, not for awhile

This feeling, inside me A pace not too far from fiction Splitting images on one screen My futile vision embracing

His feeling, inside him Bewildering encompassion of a trilogy Another mind, a friend, a rushed exemption Coming closer to a closure, then rebirth

Naissance: ----------

The birth of a soul, Deus ex machina

I feel a distant sun caressing A slow perchance for fate and fancy intertwined

What cometh this way Grasping scars emerging from days past

What shroud cloaks this day A slow immedicine, The unsounding of my parts

My love, a mirror, a friend It needs a chance, a chokepoint degapped

Heal me, A cessation from discrepancy

[tides of Helen]

This time window we must cherish, You and I and eye of The All Seeing

There's none other, Than the mindmaze in the mirror

I became, I bethroned, I abjected Thread, my dearest thread I dearly depart myself, bidding A home for a respite

Home : ------

The walls cry of absence and whispers

A slight touch of the palm graces, The plight of the plaintiff behind the fate Cursors move up the struggles of the vein, Inconclusive ill of melancholy

This notion of separation, Reaps the heart to its dires On bended knees we sink, At this river of futile tears

The ambience of loneliness and division, Portrudes above our conscious minds Heisting the current abode, Unfathomable desire to mutually caress

Beyond this boundary exists my other half Beyond this wall lies another...

Another,

Sustain contain then stop the ambience surrounding My speechless thought echoes throughout without surpass

and another,

Oboete [remember] Never forgetting specified frame of memory First clandestine then disctinction to final separation

and another,

..

I hear this loudness from inside my ears Humming, fainting whisper, to a soft speech

and another.

...

No more can I reject my objection towards presence PLighT is a revocable sister of her brother, fate

And you.

I miss you

The corridors of fate seems to form an unwanted maze No escaping reflective clarity, images beyond seen mirrors

Such is the configuration of this longing A lamentable presence, expelled from fate

It has been two long years, It has been an eternity

Your modulating kiss fades from memory As each deafening ambience ravage me

I, to my heart : [Perhaps to silence, I have spoken for far too long.]

Now the peregrine, Now the calmative

a boundary of mist separates while the only road leads to home

I've nowhere to go But to return to the confines of my sanctuary

[pulang]

Y've reached I home

Part III: Pandora's Clock -------------------------

I have come at a crossroads A silent tantrum of mind and consciousness

Please take my hand Brace the future with me

First.

The solitude of a solitary mind At this junction of overlaping converses

A gaze, then a hand A reach from inside

The solitude of a solitary mind At the junction of overlaping converses

A gaze, then a hand A reach from inside

[E] "Would you dance with me?"

Dec, the 12th of each cycle A courtship between Soleil and Capricorn

Of your latter solstice I find my solace Under luminous frost After a day after days before a new season

[Dahlia] Rest dear Soleil Shine a lesser warmth Shine greater southbound

Then through motion and period Embrace at former solstice

A garden in winter Not far from closure Enclosed in glass And luminosity

Come dear lucidity Let us speak to warm ourselves Let us become classic

One past, presenting a future

In this garden we trust Grace a prelude to truthful fancy

In this garden we lust Skin to skin without a mindful hinderance

In this garden we bind fire and ice

A simple presence felt between us and our dance Resultante, Of motion and perceived decadence

.the second conciousness.

A girl in the mirror Yet to set her feet, Yet to step to the real

A face becoming clearer Vivid smile doubtful eyes

Is she to be welcomed?

Don't let her future mimic the past This is not a point of vacancy Don't let time's vagrancy become turmoil This is a coming whirlwind

A new stream of conciousness is the resultant There can be no regret

Sleep, breathe deep, deeper in a shallow sleep

This is a form of regression Unfolding a dream of recurrence

~Mataku From my eyes

.Mata Ku. To eyes of myself

..Ma Ta Ku.. Then my own eyes

...Mata Milik Aku... These eyes are mine

[E] A cyclic process of birth, death and rebirth Sequential teardrop from a cloudless sky Freefall to a deep mirror of factful fallacy far from fiction

More to truth full of lies and truth, then lies, and lastly truth The answer to a riddle of the sequences and the abstract

A fracture of this mindspace leaks into the open Bequeathing beautiful lies of autumn and of lust But the winter in me is still vast, far from passing Not a drop of colour but a blackless landscape of total blur

Second. Then I see you...

On a road once shared before the crossroads Gleaming with a blueish haze of tenderness Before the coming of daylight's echoing shine Take me to a world outside this shallow sleep

Walking to currentness.

Cascading deep dark blue shade follow folly Interred in my living bones, blades of blunt burden Remain in viewable secrecy, lucidly reasoning for an answer Unwritten forgiveness uttered through a wordless whisper

Reflections, There's me in my head and me in the mirror I can see me very clearly, and I don't like it

The vivid image of reflection has a mind of it's own Why do reflections answer me with such prejudice?

...

A revisitation, A reflection of light Duplicating a world Forming an inversion Making you, Not quite yourself

...

Cascade the masks of emotion to emulate prudence Infer I have, that this is a motion of incredulity

I remain

Asking The Heaven for forgive~ness My hope is now in the clarity of my written bequest

Third. Air

Interlude to preciousness

The world is only an interlude I can't wait for the night to cast it's cloak {of dreams}

A gateway to my paralel life, another conciousness Lucidly living in a shallow sleep

Fourth. Trumpet of Million's child

Dawn to daybreak with a string of trust Warm caress of loyal sunlight Distress and jubilance harbours, Away the stray

A soulful sailor's song Lamenting grace and riddance

Yearly yearning without regard Clasping for release

Melding heartplace and effect Arriving distances to encumbrance The headplace earthing Excelling to explace

Love is a peaceful embrace A feeling, most emtious Of innocence in riddles of sin and temperance A forgiveness for the plightful son

[E] I found who I am at last By a glimpse of fate, enduring A slight mention in destiny A moment alone with my dear fate

A close brush, an eventful sigh Relief, a respite to sensefulness

One last time, Take away my breath

Deliver me my chance, To exhale my last sigh

[Dahlia] I am standing on a ledge A stare to this decending fathom

Cold air sweeps behind me As I tearfully leave my presence

I cannot give you more I cannot be a fitting piece

Musing over life and precedence. Now I'm tired.

I've tried so hard to stay afloat. I'm too tired.

Goodbye now, For I am never truly gone

Fifth. Realitv

[E] A life outside of this TV screen A roundabout of moving pictures preceeding Of passion, of circumstance, of changes My faults and lies, my trials and crimes

Curious apprehension of what may yield I behold to myself, my own mindsight A view to a thrill, a dream of a dream A dull lucidity, a makeup of frigidity

My past turns present My presence sinks into the past Another besetting recurrence Another triumph lost

Sixth. Water

[E] How is my lifeline?

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. A freight train coming my way.

There is a door nearer to the right. Marking exit from a disaster.

(Not out of lifeline)

But indeed. It is I, myself who can save me. It is I, myself who conjured the door. It is I, myself who live my life. Not someone else.

And it is I, myself who choose what I believe in. Not someone else not me.

I'm still breathing, I can still exhale Without hesitation, normalcy without change A sense of endless freedom without boundaries Miracles coming at an enjoyable rate

Now here's that jazz [0}

Flood of tears don't drown me You'll never catch me again crying a flood Now that I'm holding on to my dearest hope I have to hold her gently Careful not to break her to pieces

Seventh. Closure

Strewn paleness, The setting sun colours the sky

A thousand rays bidding farewell, Bidding another rest

And I wish I am not here

Wavering clouds speak with the doves A faint sentence caught in my ears

"There's nothing left to hide."

My melodies will take me Wherever this heart is needing to set

You took away all my strength, Now please take away my pain

Leave my cold outside this shell Never let it rain inside these doors

Please lead me to your promises Then please take away my pain

I am in need of refuge

This is the final scene Before the curtain falls . .

Please, Make me believe in hope, And please take away my pain

Finale. Memoire, a scene in a lifetime

Now I must rest, I must be at peace

Hibernating from culture PlacIng membrane, a distance to bid myself

Sayonara for a moment Please do not forget, oboete my dear Remembrance is for sentient bliss

Keep me in your mind And please, bathe your memory of me in absolution

[buddyxcollyhollis]

@writervega once upon a time ago you commented on a Drabble about just how Buddy and Helene got to the aftermath of losing Colleen. This finally came to me. The ending storm came from my father’s passing, I’d like to think God sent the rain to bring him home. There’s also a side tidbit about our dear Col, she was born during a rain storm. Could be why she loves the sound so much. 

All Ends Have a Beginning { When I’m gone verse } 

“Ruth…you seen my gloves?”

Humming softly to herself behind the morning paper she thought for a moment. Stretching her legs for a moment Buddy caught a glimpse of long lean dancer’s legs and he smiled. Sitting there in the morning light, hair mussed and slightly curled and back lit by early summer sunshine his wife was a vision to his eyes. 

“They should be out in the tool shed where you left’em, Bud.”

He felt her cool green eyes all but pin him to the spot. Her mind a steel trap as she took in his attire. Chaps and protective over vest and old beat up hat. He had gotten a call from his older brother  last night about helping him to break a bronco and maybe putting his name back in the hat. One last ride as it were before closing that chapter on the book of his life. His life could be exponentially shorted  judging by the looks his beloved bride was shooting his way. She was off like a shot towards the mounted phone on the wall before Buddy could even blink. 

“Clyde Nemual Hollis I’m just about fixing to come on down there and castrate you myself. Did you get Boaz to out his name into the hat?”

Boaz. She very rarely used his given name unless they were intimate or he found himself in a whole heaping helping of trouble and seeing as there wasn’t a bed or a hay pile in sight he guessed he’d better brace himself for her wrath because it was coming. He watched as her face softened for a moment. Clyde must have told her that it was just a bronc he needed help with. It was the truth and his Ruth respected his brother and the truth. Why would Clyde lie to her? He’d never had reason to before this and she’d known damn near twenty-two years at this point. 

“He hasn’t had anything to do with broncs since I quite racin’ barrels. You promise me you’ll keep him safe. But as long as it’s just bronc busting that you need help with. He so much as even looks at that bull I’ll be on you like white on rice you hear me?”

She hung up the phone and turned to him the sleeve of her cotton night dress had slipped off one of her slender gently tanned shoulders and she studied him just as intently. 

“How badly do you want this?”

Pulling her close he smiled and didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“As bad as I want you right now. This’ll be the last time, Ruth. I swear.”

Plucking the hat from his head she kissed him gently. 

“Alright, I’ll get you a new set of gloves from Danver’s Supply. I’ve got to go into town for a few things anyway today. You’ll watch Abel today?”

It wasn’t unusual for her to venture into town on her own every now and then. It was the least he could do to keep their toddler entertained for a short amount of time. 

“ ‘Course. Cae said he’d be by with those picnic tables you wanted for the fourth. I think between the two of us along with my Clyde Abel’s going to be kept highly entertained until you get back.”

Satisfied she hugged him and took off upstairs to get ready for the day and check on a still slumbering Abel. 

The rest of the day was spent weeding the garden and repainting the chicken coop. Abel had just been fed and Colleen had just gotten off the phone with her mother when Buddy found himself with enough time to catch a second wind. 

“Looks like I’ve got to go into Wallace for a few things. Daddy’s got something going on with one of the hunting dogs and Mama can’t leave Granny at the moment. I’ve got to stop by Doc Hatcher’s the pharmacy for Granny’s medicines and then I’ll be over to Danver’s and down to the Publix. You’re sure that you’re okay to make dinner tonight? You look beat.”

It was true, all that time spent hunched over in the garden and then getting a call from their neighbor down the road to help with a calf birthing had taken it out of him but he persisted. He watched her watching the sky for any sign of rain. She had been watching weather forecasts and a drought was nearly called. Leave it his wife to worry about just about everyone and everything, even her own garden. 

“I’ll be fine ‘sides it’s only a little after one. I’ll be ready to go by the time Cae and Clyde show up and I’m just reheating what you made. I’ll make sure Abe’s cleaned up afterward. Drive safe and I’ll see you ‘bout…”

“Shouldn’t be any later than five or five thirty. Unless Mama needs help getting Granny cleaned up. I’ll call you either way.” 

In a flurry of movement she did the usual little swing dance with Abel around the kitchen before depositing a kiss on the toddler’s chubby little cheek and putting him down to scamper off in search of the family dog. The song on the radio changed and before Colleen turned he grabbed her and gave her a twirl around the kitchen floor like he used to do when they went out on Friday nights. Clint had never sounded so good to their ears. 

I never liked the rain until I walked through it with you

Every thunder cloud that came was one more I might not get through

But on the darkest day there's always light, and now I see it too

But I never liked the rain until I walked through it with you

“Even the damn radio’s mockin’ me and my poor water deprived garden. Hopefully we’ll get something.”

“Your garden’ll be fine.”

“It’s not just the garden I’m worried about. I miss the sound of it at night. There’s nothing like the sound of a summer storm to help you sleep.”

He never would understand why his wife liked the rain or summer storms so much. Maybe one day he’d figure her out. 

She kissed Buddy as gently and sweetly as she always did before snagging his hat again and she was gone with a smile. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He watched as she climbed behind the wheel of her truck. She honked her usual shave and a hair cut honk and away she went.  He didn’t know that that would be the last time he’d see her. 

Two o’clock rolled around and true to his word Buddy had gotten his second wind. Clyde came by as did Caleb and between the three of them they got the picnic tables set up for the gathering of the clans as Colleen had taken to calling their annual fourth of the July barbecue.  Clyde had forgone bringing the bronc anywhere near the Hollis farm and when asked about his he just shook his head. 

“Colleen mentioned snippin’ me so Waco can wait another day. Stop on by next week, Buddy. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

Abel had taken to situating himself atop his uncle Caleb’s shoulders while winding down for an impromptu nap. Three o’clock came and went as did four and then five.  Dinner had been warmed up and the men had eaten and just gotten Abel to eat at least three big bites until the boy had become virtually inconsolable. Buddy figured it was just a case of being overtired and got the boy into the bath and ready for bed by six forty five. By seven Helene stopped over to see Colleen and was perplexed as to why she wasn’t home yet. A phone call from Col’s mother however worried each of them as Abel was passed around from person to person each trying his or her best to get him to settle.

“What do you mean she didn’t stop by? She’s not home yet here. She said she’d be back home around 5:30 at the latest. Maybe she ran into traffic or the truck was giving her some trouble?”

An hour later a vehicle pulled up into the side driveway and footfalls could be heard on the front porch. Jim Walker, a long time friend of both Buddy and Colleen and his deputy Red Gilley were the ones to break the news before the hospital even had a chance to call. 

“There’s been a bad accident and…Buddy it’s best that you come with us.”

Clyde had offered to stay with Abel while Caleb and Helene made the drive with him to St. Gabriel’s Hospital a county over. They met her parents there and joined at her bedside.  A whirl of activity and Buddy couldn’t understand a single word spoken to him. She had been an organ donor so there were papers to sign. Her body shutting down slowly, she wouldn’t make it through the night. Her Mama and her best friend combed out her long dark hair as Caleb and her father contacted the local minister. Buddy, never left her side and instead he sang to her. Softly, quietly and without shame. 

Precious Lord, take my hand

Lead me on, help me stand

I am tired,

I am weak,

I am worn

Through the storm, through the night

Lead me on to the light

Just as he finished the first verse a thunder clap could be heard before great drops of rain pattered against the double paned glass of the hospital room. 

“You got your wish, baby. Go with the rain. I love you, Ruth.”

[james-bucky-barnackle]

Frostbite (Part 3)

Requested: can i request a fic between y/n and steve where they’re secret lovers but y/n chooses team iron man in civil war and then fast forward to infinity war she finds out about steve has moved on with nat. -@anon

Part 2 | Frostbite Masterlist

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: ANGST???

Word count: 4,623

A/N: I’m sorry it took too long! I’ve been a little busy I’m defending my thesis next Friday (wish me luck?)

There was a man in her room.

It’s been almost 15 months since the incident, and as strange as it feels, things have gotten back to normal. Months of planning and careful execution was done to alter the events through time travel, and everyone who’s blown by the wind was back in their solid physical bodies, but their lives will never be the same. Especially for the man in her room. As she laid there, her eyes closed and her breathing slow, he visited her every day, not knowing what to say but just wanting to be there when she finally woke up. Y/N’s body has crept into a deep sleep since the infinity war, her powers saved her from dying, but with her in what seemed like a never-ending slumber felt like it was all the same. Steve placed his hand on top of hers as he held it up to his cheeks, a thin layer of ice blanketing his skin. He’s gotten used to the cold. If pain was how it felt to be near her, he wouldn’t care. All he wanted was for her to wake up. He kissed her hand and left the room. He remembers that day, soldiers taking the bodies of the survivors, Y/N was picked up by the medics, taken into Shuri’s lab immediately as he looked on. He would never forget the first three days they waited for her to wake up, back then they wouldn’t have thought it would last months, thinking she would just wake up and go. Shuri did her best to treat her and it took her days to create a new device that will control her body temperature, but even so, she was still asleep. But the scars on her body were untraceable, seamless, better than they looked before, the wound on her head had disappeared. Everyone was mourning for the loss of the half that the titan wiped out, all of which were half of the reason they kept on living. When Tony found her, his heart sank, that same day he found out from Happy that Pepper was taken away by the snap. He didn’t even bother going back to the compound and went straight to where she was, Y/N was the only family he had left.

“I can take her back to the compound, I’ll monitor her health there,” Tony looked up at a surprised Shuri, his voice low. It didn’t take him long to get back from that foreign planet, a long story as to how he got back, no one will ever know, but there he was with a complicated request. His hair disheveled, face covered in dirt, clothes ripped, and his eyes we’re pleading.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. The device is already working, her body temperature has gone up and is almost in a normal level, she should wake up in a few days,” Shuri assures Tony, as she gently hands him a towel which he gladly accepts. He hasn’t bothered cleaning himself up, knowing that she’s gone through this without him around to protect her, but he couldn’t have done anything else, he’s been through so much himself. Little did they know, she wouldn’t be with them for more than a year.

And now she’s laid in the same bed ever since. Like a princess in a fairytale, with no one to kiss her to back to reality. The other avengers would walk past her room and feel a little ache in their hearts, she was alive but it felt like a funeral, for a beautiful being, gone too soon, and has taken too long to wake up.

Today it was gonna change.

The moment Steve left the room with the door lock clicking behind him as he closed it, her eyes fluttered open. She looked straight at the ceiling, breathed her first warm breath, and pulled herself up balancing her upper body on her elbows. She looked around and saw no one in the room, she looked at the bed and at her hands. There was something different about her, her heart beat faster, she was nervous. She carefully pulled the blanket away from her and stood up. A red light blinked on top her bed as a loud beep suddenly rung through her ears. Immediately, her head whipped to the direction of the door, the knob twisting and the door opening to reveal Steve. Her lips parted, but nothing came out, as he immediately ran towards her and hugged her tight. He felt like he was in a dream, Y/N felt like she was in a nightmare. Her hands stayed beside her legs.

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed to say. Steve was smoothing his hands on her back, telling her it’s gonna be okay. But he stops as soon as she continues.

“I don’t know you. C-can you tell me where I am?” she said almost a whisper.

Tony immediately runs to her room after being notified by the alarm. “Okay, who moved the body this time? I told you guys to st--- Y/N.” He stopped in his tracks, the moment he saw Y/N standing enveloped in Steve’s arms. She looked on, eyebrows furrowed, Vision was behind him, too many unfamiliar faces where registering in her brain. Her body was tensing up, Steve pulled away, violently, and when she looked to find why, she saw his shoulders covered in ice. She couldn’t understand what’s in front of her, where she was or who these people were. She stared at her hands, she was shaking, trembling in fear. The temperature in the room dropped, her body felt like it was gonna explode.

“I’m sorry, what… What is wrong with me?! Did I do that? I didn’t mean to! What is happening?!” She was backing into a wall, Tony was holding his hand out, like he was taming a wild animal. Her chest was raising up and down, tears uncontrollably falling on her cheek. “Don’t go near me! Please! I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Sweetie, you’re alright. It’s gonna be okay, you’re just shocked is all.” Tony was nervous, he didn’t want her to shut him out, but he wasn’t as scared as she was.

“I don’t- who are you? Do I live here?” She shook her head, she didn’t think this place was something she would be living in. “Am I a monster? I don’t know what to- I don’t know where I am.”

“I think my appearance would fit more for that description,” Vision remarked, he’s smile was soft.

“Come with me, I’ll help you, it’s gonna be okay.” She looked at Tony’s hand, as he nodded back to reassure her it’s gonna be fine, but she was afraid she’ll hurt him just like she did with Steve, who’s looking on, his eyes gentle not wanting her to think she’s hurt him. And when she saw this confirmation, she took it. A sigh of relief escaping her when ice didn’t appear on Tony’s hand at her touch.  

-----

The afternoon was restless, news broke out that Y/N was awake, everyone was concerned and eager to see how she was doing, but they were still waiting for updates. They didn’t want to just barge in and bombard her with inquiries, after all, she wouldn’t even have the answers to any. Dr. Helen Cho detected she had post-traumatic amnesia, after losing consciousness in the battle in Wakanda, her head injury being the cause. After that incident all they were concerned about was when she would ever wake up, this was something they had forgotten was a possibility. Finally, after hours of waiting, Helen came out of the room and handed Tony her vitals, stating she was stable and her body temperature was back to normal.

“I’ve filled in her in with basics, her name, where she is, who you guys are. Well in a general sense, I just told her you guys are people she can trust.” Steve was silent, with Nat right beside him holding his arm, she looked up at him to see how he took the news in, as he mustered up a smile. He didn’t know if he was happy to have her back, or if it was a sign to let her go. She doesn’t even remember him. “You guys can come in, one at a time, for now. Tell her about small things from her past, to try to trigger some memory. Just try to be gentle with it, we don’t want her first memory to be violent, her powers might take over her body, just like what happened earlier, and she might fall into another sleep,” her last words are with caution, “or worse.” She nods and leaves the hall.

The rest of the week has been amusing for Y/N, everyone came in once a day to check up on her, introduce themselves and tell her stories about what she was like. It was confusing at first, but she quickly warmed up to everyone, well, with the exception of Steve, who she hasn’t seen since waking up, and Bucky, who thought his presence would trigger something negative and kept his distance. He didn’t even consider the idea of visiting her, since he wouldn’t have anything to say about her. Bruce and Tony have been visiting her often, telling her jokes and cheering her up with their crazy science talk. Wanda stopped by once with Vision to bring food they’ve cooked, and Y/N couldn’t wait for them to get back and taste what meal they’ve prepared next. Natasha has dropped by and she kept very much to herself, but Y/N figured she was just as confused as she was, having to talk to a friend with them not knowing who they were, it was unnerving. Today, Y/N was reading a book when she heard the door open.

“Hey there, kiddo. How’re you feeling?”

“Are you sure you’re not my father?” She asked, a smirk on her lips. His visitor looked up and pretended to think.

“Uhm, let me think, yep, positive.” Tony replied as he sets down a tray of food for her.

“Whatever you say,” Y/N puts her book down and grabs one of the plates. “Uhm Tony,” he looks up at her as he takes a bite of the apple from the tray.

“I’m ready,” Tony slows his chewing, thinking of what to reply but she continues. “I’m ready to leave this medical room and live in a real bedroom. Besides, it might help speed things up a bit if I get to see the people I’ve lived with before, every day.” All Tony could think of was how she might react to living back in the same floor with the rest of the avengers, this has been the most peaceful she’s ever been, not thinking about the problems she’s had in the past, or the heartache she felt from Steve. But he knew better than to take that choice from her. What peace could she be in if she doesn’t even know her past? All he could do was give her a smile.

“You’re right, we’ll get you settled in the morning. After I get your room defrosted,” Y/N laughed, but those powers never really made sense to her. She couldn’t remember anything about the existence of enhanced species, it felt too fictional. She feared herself, and what she could do, but she’s never been able to freeze anything since she’s hurt Steve’s shoulders. Helen has told her it’s okay to trust her senses and let her powers slowly come out so she could learn to control it, like she’s used to, but it’s never come out no matter how hard she concentrated, she almost felt like it was a blessing, she didn’t want to risk hers or anyone else’s life. It felt like that morning where Steve’s shoulders were covered in ice didn’t even happen at all, like a practical joke. But him not visiting her became her confirmation.

“Thank you,” she replied, “it feels kind of weird talking to people I don’t remember and being told to trust them.” She immediately wanted to take the words back, but Tony knew that wasn’t what she meant. “I’m sorry, it just – feels like I’m back at zero, and I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

Tony grabbed her hand and nodded. He didn’t know the exact words to say or the things to do, but he knew that whatever she needed he’ll support her, just as she’s done for him all those years. That same night, he had the monitors taken out of her room, the medical machines and all the things that made it look like a hospital. He’s gotten used to her room filled with all those equipment that when they were taken down it felt like someone else’s room. Maybe it was, she still couldn’t remember anything from her past but at least she was still with them.

The morning she arrived back at the floor wasn’t celebratory, the avengers were out on a meeting with the council, she had the floor all to herself. She walked around and looked at the place, familiarizing herself with the surroundings. It felt so new, like she was moving in to a new loft. She wandered through the kitchen, checked every cabinet like a kid, walked around the dining table figuring where she usually sat. Who was she kidding? She was gonna have to start fresh, which seat she sat on wouldn’t matter. After thinking to herself for hours, she found herself in the balcony, hugging herself as she looked at the sunset. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, she felt alone. Not knowing who she is, where she belonged, and anyone. Sure, there were these people who’s been taking care of her, and helping her remember, but she was slowly losing faith. What if she couldn’t remember? It was too soon to be concerned about, but she felt an undermining fear hoping there was at least one thing she could wrap her head around that she wasn’t completely gone. She felt small, and indifferent, what did she live for?

“Lady Y/N,” she heard a voice call out which made her jump a bit. She turned to see a tall man wearing a suit of armor with a red cape, he’s never visited before, she tried to look at him, analyzing his features but nothing came. When he saw her bewildered expression, he walked closer. “Apologies, I was told you have a problem with your memory. I’m Thor, son of Odin.”

She put her hands in her pocket and pressed her lips tight. It was embarrassing to meet people who probably know her more than she does herself. “Hey, I uh, still can’t wrap my head around my name…” she chuckled. “But yes hello, nice to meet you again- Thor.”

“I’ve brought you these, I remember you had a lot in your room.” He handed a small bouquet of flowers, they didn’t look store-bought. They looked beautiful, and Y/N felt an urgent recognition. She didn’t know what, but something about these flowers felt familiar.

“Thank you, Thor.”

“You’re welcome, I’ve also come here to ask if you wanted to join the rest of us for dinner, if you’re ready, that is.” She looked up, surprised, but this was the plan, she reminded herself not to be too overwhelmed when she sees all of them at the same time and for a moment looked at her hand. They felt warm she let a deep breath out and bobbed her head. Here we go, she thought to herself.

The table was full of chatter, as she walked towards it, it felt like she was intruding in a family dinner. But weren’t they her family too? She could do this, she will. Everything paced slowly as she looked around looking for an unoccupied chair. It was next to Wanda, thank god it was her. Wanda’s face lights up as she sees Y/N walking towards the dining table and points to the seat next to her. Y/N gave her a shy smile, never reaching her eyes, she felt like the new kid, and maybe she was.

“Y/N! Hey, nice to see you join us.” She didn’t reply, but only sat in her chair. She didn’t know what to say, she was still taking everything in. Luckily Sam was engaging her in his stories making her feel less awkward. This was one of the few times they appreciated his talkative mouth. He was talking about one of their first missions together, how she always forgot where her post was. Great, so I was already forgetful back then, she thought. Steve was there, sitting next to Natasha as she squeezed his hand. They were still together, he’s never gotten to fully process everything after Y/N was taken by the medics that day in Wakanda. And Nat was there to help him get through things. He waited for Y/N to wake up, days became weeks and weeks became months and months became a year, and he felt tortured, like it was his punishment for all the things he did to her. Nat knew he still visited her every day when Y/N was still asleep, but trusted him enough to not think anything of it. Steve thought the opposite, he knew he was being selfish being with Nat and being in anguish waiting for Y/N to wake up, but now that she has, she doesn’t even remember him. It was a slap to his face, she’s back with no idea of what happened in the past and here he was with all of their memories, and his guilt drowning him. She was back, and Steve didn’t know what to say or do, he only ever was ready to see her again, and now that she’s here, he felt shut in the dark.

He ate slowly, ever so often stealing a glance at her. She was smiling at Sam’s and Thor’s stories. Before he raised his eyebrows and shook his head, Bucky looked at him, and without any words, understood what he felt. Dinner finished and it was his and Bucky’s schedule to clear the table and wash the dishes. He felt a little conscious when Y/N insisted on staying out to help them.

“It’s okay, I want to do this. I haven’t been here in such a long time, a little housework could- I don’t know, domesticate my brain here.” Her eyes were bright, the eyes he loved looking at every morning and every night. Steve tried so hard not to stare too long, and turned his head to the sink.

“You need to rest, we got this.” Steve proceeded to pile the plates on the sink as Bucky started washing them.

“I’ve been asleep for months, I think I can handle a few more hours.” She bit her lip, she felt guilty around him, but she had to try. “I want to apologize for what happened last week.”

“It’s okay,” I deserved it, Steve thought. “I’m fine, a little bit of ice wouldn’t hurt anybody. Besides, it was a hot day.” Y/N let a laugh out but her eyes immediately went back to concern. She thought twice before she approached him, but she mustered up the courage to reach for his shoulder. He shivered under her touch.

“I hope we can be friends, again.” He couldn’t hide his agony. Bucky looked at his friend, he didn’t know how to make the situation better for him. Steve looked back at her, faking a smile.

“Of course, doll. Like always.” She beamed at him, she was a ball of sunshine. Steve was intoxicated with her, but he thought the last thing she needed was a reminder of her heart break.

“I figured you hated me, since I didn’t see you at the medical room,” he tensed up, “I didn’t mean to sound conceited, you didn’t have to. I just, really feel bad for what I did to you.” It didn’t sound right in his ears, he’s been visiting her every day, not minding the frost she gave his skin when he made contact, but here she was apologizing for physically hurting him, when he’s hurt her so much more. He stupidly considered her amnesia to be a good thing, maybe it freed her from him.

“No one could ever hate you,” it was true, she was too precious for this world.

“I would,” she shook her head, “falling asleep for 15 months and then waking up and not remembering anything? It’s like I’ve played myself.” She knew it was dumb to smile, but it was an expression she hid beneath and felt comfort in. He wanted to hug her, tell her to stop blaming herself for everything that’s happened, but he stood frozen in his place, thinking his feelings would only confuse her, it was too soon, or maybe it didn’t really matter anymore, she’s gone. This Y/N standing in front of him has no recollection of him, telling her anything would only ruin the bliss he saw she was feeling.

“That’s not true, Y/N. None of this is your fault, it was an accident.”

“Why do I feel like I’ve heard that before?” and before she could talk about it, Bucky interrupted to tell Steve to move on to another plate. He didn’t realize he’s been drying the same plate he first started out, he didn’t even realize it until his pal pointed it out. He let a low laugh and wrinkled his nose at him.

The night ended and Y/N went back to her room, it was a small step, but at least she’s gotten to sit down with everyone all at the same time. Her worries about being left out were out of the window. Maybe she’d be okay, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe not remembering anything from her past wasn’t such a bad thing, nothing seemed to be missing, although it would always come to haunt her. She’d have to face it another time, for now, she’ll have to deal with the present, and learn what it’s like to live again, she’s been given another chance at it.

As she walked up to her bed, she saw a book on top of her nightstand, the cover wrinkled and blurred, like something melted on top of it. She smoothed her fingers on top of the covers, reminiscing on what memory it could possibly hold. A yellow shade cast over its white cover, like a flower. She felt an instantaneous rush to be at the balcony, she picked the book up and walked out of the room. Her steps were ardent. It felt like she was chasing after something that might escape as soon as she gets there. Her breathing accelerated and her chest was pounding, Y/N couldn’t understand what she was feeling, but she found herself back in the balcony with the book in her hand, seeing no one there. Her eyes flickered, and every time they would blink she would see a shadow of a man standing in the balcony, moonlight hitting his skin just right, but his back was turned and before she could call out to him the visions disappear. She coughed, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She felt physical pain in her chest, and she didn’t know why. It was sudden, she gripped the book tighter, maybe she was ready to let go of her past, but her past wasn’t done with her yet.

-

Days had gone by, she still felt a little awkward waking up in her bed. She stopped joining the others during supper, she stopped coming after the first week. It’s not that she didn’t want to be around them, she just couldn’t bear another story about her. They all kept talking about who she was, or what she liked, disliked, but it only made her feel like they all wanted someone else. She couldn’t recognize the person they described her to be. It didn’t feel like her, or at least, not anymore. She felt like she was living under the shadow of herself. She hated her. They would go on missions without Y/N because she didn’t have any skill to offer. Her powers have yet to make an appearance, and her muscle memory didn’t pick up on any hand to hand combat. She felt useless. The only reason she thought was good enough for her to stay was that even with the absence of her powers, outside factors might trigger it and she wouldn’t be able to control it. Y/N wished she just stayed asleep, she was living a life in confinement, it was prison. At night she would walk to the balcony just to cry, it felt like a blanket.

“Why did this happen to me?” she huffed as she hugged her knees, wrapping herself underneath a huge sweater. She started smacking her head, she wanted to scream. Crying almost felt like an addiction, she was comforted by torment, her self-loathing had become her refuge. Every time she would fall into another episode, she would embrace it and pour her heart out into buckets of tears. She would wake up late in the afternoon, eat by herself, and went back to her room. She survived on one meal a day, having a messed-up body clock. Wanda stopped by her room once, her kind eyes curious to find out what was going on, but Y/N insisted she was fine and that she needed time alone. The only meal she’s shared was with Tony, who’s noticed her behavior, but she still couldn’t open up to him, even though he was the only one who hasn’t spoken about anything from her past self. She appreciated that.

The rain came swiftly, Y/N was covered by raindrops, masking her tears as she kept in the same position on the rooftop. She didn’t bother standing up, the water hitting the concrete was the noise she needed to drown her thoughts out. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man from her visions. She would stay in the balcony for as long as consciousness allowed her, like he might suddenly show up. But so far, he’s only ever lived on her mind.

“Jesus, Y/N! You’re gonna catch a cold.” a figure stood in front of her and pulled her up. Rain pouring on his back. She was stoic, her gaze locked on his electric blue eyes. He was speaking but she couldn’t hear the words, she just kept staring into his eyes. She searched his face, taking his features in like she was gonna fall into another deep sleep, like the last time she’ll ever get to see them. Something about his eyes felt magnetic, it was suddenly hard to look away. Her thoughts were fuming like static. Her chest was throbbing, her eyes were washed in fear and confusion.

“Steve?” He looked at her the moment his name rolled off her tongue, his eyes now reflecting the same confusion. Something about her tone felt all too familiar. Her hand lifted to touch his face, and he just kept still. Before her skin could ever touch his, she felt frost on her fingertips and quickly pulled away, a loud gasp escaping her lips.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Y/N?”

She held her hand with tiny specks or ice settling on top of them wiped it on her sweater’s sleeves. Why did her hand frost just as she was about to touch him? Why did looking into his eyes send a sharp pang of pain? The same pain she felt that night she found that book in her room. Why did his stare look like something she knew like the back of her hand? Who was he?

______

PART 4 | Check out my other stuff too? | M A S T E R L I S T

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[littleredroseonthevalley]

St. Augustine

Or, The Realization of Truth

Summary: After Mr Sinclaire storms off his own party, Lady Susan comes to find him at the yard.

Rating: T -  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1474

Notes: I reiterate I am not a sociopath who can only take pleasure on sex and the suffering of my fellow men. To prove it, have some fluffy fluff.

“Why, then, does truth generate hatred, and why does thy servant who preaches the truth come to be an enemy to them who also love the happy life, which is nothing else than joy in the truth—unless it be that truth is loved in such a way that those who love something else besides her wish that to be the truth which they do love. Since they are unwilling to be deceived, they are unwilling to be convinced that they have been deceived. Therefore, they hate the truth for the sake of whatever it is that they love in place of the truth. They love truth when she shines on them; and hate her when she rebukes them.”

~ Confessions, Book 10, Chapter 23

Ernest felt like screaming, shouting until his voice was hoarse, but he contained himself on the grounds he had humiliated himself enough tonight. No need to feed the likes of Theresa Sutton with more babble to spread through the city.

God knows she had enough already.

He breathed heavily and tried to loosen his tie, in hopes that it would help the flow of air through his throat.

If the simple fact of upholding this travesty of a party while he would rather be doing just about literally anything else, including touring an apiary farm covered head to toe in honey, was not irritating enough, that… that… thing who the Fates had the sick pleasure of making a Duke had the damned idea to crash it.

What was the sick obsession of that man with him? It was going on years, even before the death of his wife, the Duke’s tendency to trail behind him, like a demon who could not be exorcised. The man leaving him alone might not make Ernest hate Tristan any less, but it would make the exercise less taxactive.

Perhaps if he had not came without an invitation, the esquire might have contained his temper, he might have thrown a respectable, composed, adjusted act for the night. Yes, the coup de grace had been a courtesy of Miss Sutton, whom, be stated, he also had no intention of inviting, but the Duke chirped at his patience enough before.

Though, to be fair, he had placed great expectations on tonight. He set himself for disappointment. He had hoped he could prove, to his peers, to himself, to her, that he was capable of doing this, being a standing member of polite society, to live up to the training he received as a boy.

He wanted to reinforce that first image Lady Susan had of him when they first met, on the road to Grover. Of the staunch nobleman to her county peasant. Out of spite, yes, all their encounters were in some way humiliating to him, but also because, in his head, this was the kind of man she desired and respected.

Now, would be better, he considers, to be taken as a bumbling, wimp of a man or as someone who threw tantrums and conniptions left and right? Those seemed to be his options at the moment, perhaps he ought to cut his losses and invest in one of those personas.

The season had already started, and people would soon notice Lady Susan. Not only a dashing, young, ludicrously wealthy heiress, she was also highly intelligent, sharp and the very envy of Helen of Troy. She was a wild bird, he could not cage her, he did not want it, but he could convince her to stay of free will.

He could, too, curtail at all chances her contacts with possible competitors. Ernest had to hand it to himself. Sitting her between Mr Marlcaster and Mr Chambers was resourceful of him. Marlcaster was an engaged idiot, and while the esquire held appreciation for Mr Chambers, he was hardly blind to where his preferences laid.

Hence the also very convenient invitation to Mr Konevi, the Sephardi gentleman who seemed to be quite taken with Chambers.

He could not help but think it was going all so well until he lost his nerve and fled to the gardens. God, he was pathetic.

If it was not enough, he also left Lady Susan alone with the leering Duke.

That thought brought him another wave of anxiety. Lady Susan was inside his house, surrounded by a horde of useless ninnies and a rapist disguised as a peer of the realm.

He jumps to his feet and turns to race inside once again, but as he looks towards the house once more, there stood the very same woman he intended to protect, her eyes shining from the lights of his porch.

“I never understood why we hold the social season so late in the spring. I would much rather to face the heat at the fields, where it is windy, or to wash my feet on the river, than in the stuffiness of London.” Susan says, leisurely fanning herself. “That is to say, I know in the times of old, the landowners were needed at their estates during sowing and harvest, but the idea the likes of the Duke of Karlington to labour in any way makes me laugh.”

Ernest looks deep into her eyes and tries not to disclose the dejection he felt on the corners of his heart in saying, “Is your party not to your satisfaction, Lady Susan?”

“On the contrary, Mr Sinclaire, send my regards to your cook. I am yet to find such a tasteful roasted meat.” She closes her fan and walks over to the shade of the tree, where he currently stood. “Perhaps it was the herbs. You would not know what they use, would you?”

“I do not take much attention to those details, Lady Susan, I apologize.” The esquire punctuates his apology with a nod.

She hummed, unaffected. “Of course, I did not think you would. Foolish of me to ask. Tell me, Mr Sinclaire, what do you like to eat?”

The blond man scoffed. “From our earlier exchanges, Lady Susan, I was led to believe you detested to ‘beat around the bush’, so to speak.”

Susan smiles, amused. “Indeed, I do not favour this kind of behaviour, but I am nothing if not adaptable. I did not think you would appreciate if I came running and fretted over your hysteria.”

He frowned. “I do not have hysteria, Lady Susan.”

She chuckled, sitting on a bench he had installed years prior for reading on days of intense heat. “What would you call it then? Or would you rather me believe your urgent errands consist on circling around a tree and mumble to yourself?”

The brunette tapped the seat next to her, inviting him to join her. He complies with her request, but the slight pout does not subdue.

“You see, Mr Sinclaire, only because I have been taking under my responsibility your regular releases for the past few months, does not mean I cannot be of help in other areas of your life.” She places her hands on his, and he cannot contain a shy smile to spread on his face.

“I am a very capable and, dare I say, forward woman.” The brunette continues. “I understand your wife’s death might be a delicate subject for you, especially if Miss Sutton’s word is to be taken at face value, and I also understand the Duke’s presence is particularly unpleasant for you. I will not press you into details.

“Know that, however, I am here if and when you want to talk about it. I said it before and I will say it again, I do care for your well-being, and it stands regardless of both of our desires to wed at the season’s closing.”

She caresses the sides of his face. “Much as I appreciate your callings for our… nightly activities, I would not mind to heed your way for other business.”

Ernest smiles widely at her, his eyes glinting. “I am so very sorry, Lady Susan. I am a fool.”

She chuckles. “What for, Mr Sinclaire?”

“I once thought you were beneath me, I though you to be some bold coquette who was trying to bite more she could chew.” He breaks eye contact, ashamed of himself. “The truth is you are an extraordinaire woman. I came here to brood like a petulant child, and you had the grace to come and get me, to console me, and to offer more consideration I can possibly make myself worth.”

Lady Susan smiled at the man, and boldly kisses his cheek. “It serves you not to doubt me again. Shall we return to the party?”

Ernest stood tall and offered the woman his hand. “It would be my greatest pleasure, milady.”

Susan took his hand and they walked into the house. For the remainder of the night, her hand did not leave his own, and a smile was never seen away from his features.

Taglist: @catlady0911; @choicesyouplayandmore; @cocomaxley; @llholloway; @mrsernestsinclaire; @shelivesinthewoods; @tornbetween2loves

[panticwritten]

Happy Valentine’s Day

Okay, this is a day late, lmaO.

I finished my Valentine’s thing. It’s cute. Connor’s a dumb sap.

Word count: 1290

@alextriestowritestuff @breakeven2007 @jade-island-lives @yuyi-yuyani @xanaphia

“Sawyer?”

“Hm?” I tilt my head in the direction of Connor’s voice, but I don’t look away from the screen. If I can just get through this chapter, I won’t have to stress about Breaking Furnace for a while.

He breathes a soft sigh, dropping into a chair that wasn’t there before and peering over my shoulder. “It’s not your week. I thought you’d be in the Lounge.”

I shrug, deleting another failed attempt for the start of this scene. “It’s not your time either.”

“As if that ever stopped me.”

I smile. “Aster had something out in the caves, I think.” She’s been weird lately.

He snorts. “As if you haven’t been.”

I’m doing my best, I shoot back, finally looking up from my computer. “I even had a date today. I’m dating.”

“She was cute. Almost as cute as you.” He rests a hand on my back when I turn my flushing face back to the computer, moving his thumb in soft, soothing circles. I will myself to feel it, but it remains a mere ghost of a touch. “Did you like her?”

“Yeah, duh, I liked her. She was funny and lame and all those things that balance out my anxiety.” I hunch closer to my computer, frowning at a sentence and wondering what the hell I was trying to write. “But she told Madi we’re too similar to be more than friends.” ‘Can’t date a clone of myself,’ to be exact. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Hm.”

We sit in silence save for the intermittent tap of a key or click of a mouse. His hand starts gentle arcs across my back, more easily simulated in my mind than his thumb. Soon, my focus drains away from the chapter, from editing, to Connor’s hand.

I close my eyes, exhaling slowly. His hand, back and forth. I can’t feel it.

He makes a chiding sound in the back of his throat, his hand stilling. He scoots closer, resting his chin on my shoulder. I lean into the insubstantial contact, basking in the thought of him.

“Take a break.” His breath on my neck, just an idle fancy, sends a flash of warmth over my cheeks. “Just for awhile.”

My words stick in my throat, so I only offer a minuscule shake of my head. I can’t.

He sits back in his chair, and I can feel his eyes on me though his touch has vanished. I stare at the page in front of me, now unsure where to go with the broken thought.

I get a full paragraph written, a miracle, before Connor starts humming. I take a moment to shoot him a dirty look for using a musical against me, but I turn back to my writing.

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf.”

Under my breath, I repeat the numbers back to him. His pleased smile projects itself into my thoughts, and I mirror it. By the time we finish the intro to the song, I’m no longer typing. He takes a breath.

“Come for a walk with me,” he breathes, and I turn to to see a pout pull at the corners of his lips.

“That’s not how the song goes.” Still, I give him a smile. I’m busy.

“Look, I could sit here all day and compare you to Macbeth.” I frown, and he grins. “You’re the morally ambiguous ruler, not me.”

My stomach twists, and his smile fades.

“I’m just saying you’re working too hard. Please take a break.”

I look back to the computer, the blinking cursor taunting me. Trying to remember what happened so early in this universe has me running in circles, and half the crap I remember wouldn’t make for a good narrative. Maybe a break would let all of that rest.

“Yes! Exactly!”

I sigh, snapping the computer shut. “Fine.”

He practically leaps out of his seat, which disappears, and I follow suit. I’m mildly aware of the real me settling deeper into the chair, eyes slipping closed as my dream splits further from reality.

Connor holds a hand out to me, and I don’t hesitate to take it, finally able to feel the warmth of his hand in mine. So, where are we going?

He shakes his keyring and a light door blinks into sight. He winks and unlocks the door, leading me through it. “It’s a surprise.”

~-୦-~

“No, St. Helens is my wife, too.”

Connor laughs aloud, his head thrown back, at the declaration. I’d be hurt that he thinks my love of beautiful mountains is this funny, but he looks so happy. He squeezes my hand when the thought crosses my mind, his laughter winding down.

“That’s a little selfish don’t you think?”

I shrug. “They’re beautiful and I hope they have a million lovers worshiping them alongside me.”

He ducks down to press a kiss atop my head, and I giggle, leaning into his side. “That sounds familiar.”

“Says the guy that has an aneurysm every time I meet someone new to kick it with,” I tease, nudging him with my shoulder.

“Considering your track record, I’d say I have a reason to worry,” he counters. “I still think André’s hiding something.”

Kettle, meet pot. “When were you planning on telling me about Jordan?” I ask innocently.

He laughs, but doesn’t relent. “Damien’s friends kidnapped you and held you for ransom.”

“First off,  he stopped them when he found out,” I correct him. “Second, that was in an actual dream, so it doesn’t count.”

“Anders blew up a church.”

“Chantry. Probs saved the universe by blowing up the damn thing, even if he was being an idiot.”

“Vriska,” he deadpans.

“That’s different and you know it.” I shake my head. “Besides, she’s mellowed out now that we’re all older.”

“Okay, but what about Str—oh, we’re here!”

I look up and stop in my tracks. My hand slips out of his as he walks on ahead. I stare at the door at the end of the hall. The glowing label above it bears a bright green tree. I didn’t notice where we were going, but now—

It’s the Breaking Furnace door.

Connor pauses in front of it, shifting from one foot to another. “Don’t worry. That universe is gone. This was just the easiest door to use.”

His voice strains near the end. With his words, a moment of shared anxiety sharpens the connection between us. At least I’m not the only one still recovering from our time there.

I square my shoulders and cross the last few yards to join him in front of the door. He entwines his fingers with mine and turns the handle—it’s not locked?

I don’t get a chance to ask about it before I see the scene beyond.

Warmth oozes from the familiar stretch of woods. The sky, a clear summer’s blue, promises a long day ahead. Quiet, thriving life fills the mountainside.

I step through the door and peer to the left to see a lake. The lake.

“The memories were a little fuzzy, but it sounds like V didn’t have much trouble replicating it.”

Connor closes the door behind us and it disappears.

Tears fill my eyes at the smell of the wilderness, the clear water shining in the sun, the feeling of being here. A choked laugh forces itself past my grin. I didn’t think I’d be able to see this again, not for another few years.

I turn to Connor, crushing myself to his chest. Thank you.

His embrace is warm, made even more so by the warmth of the summer, when he wraps his arms around me.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

[fanheadcanons]

Perfect (Percabeth Song-shot)

────── ⋆ • ☆ • ⋆ ──────

Percy's hand rested against the small of Annabeth’s back as they twirled around the floor. The dance had long since ended, but the pair was too in the moment to care. Music continued to swell around them as the last few people trickled out and the harpies had begun to clean up the mess.

A small song came on the sound system and Percy smiled down at Annabeth. She looked up, gray eyes meeting green ones, and she felt the corners of her lip curl up.

"What are you smiling at?" She questioned. As the melody filled the air, the answer became clear.

I found a love for me

Darling just dive right in

And follow my lead

Well I found a girl beautiful and sweet 

Percy sang the last line, loudly and out of tune, but it was music to Annabeths ears.

"This is our song." The boy replied, swaying to the beat.

"According to you." She replied snarkily, but it held no real venom. The two continued to move and she laid her head against his chest.

The silver dress wrapped around her legs, the fabric silky and smooth. Percy had a blue tie on, but the fabric around his neck wasn't what was taking his breath away.

The women in front of him was the love of his life; the moment he had seen her in that dress he knew, as he had known so many times before, that she was his soul mate. Percy never thought he would find someone that loved him the way Annabeth did; he just didn't think it possible.

I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

“We were just kids.” Annabeth reiterated. She thought back to the tousle black hair that stuck to the pillow as Percy laid in the big house, drool falling from his mouth.

She didn't know she loved him then, but now, as she looked back, she knew there was something there that she had never felt before.

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes you're holding mine

Percy thought about the moment at that dance years ago, when they were looking for two powerful children, one of which he would be unable to save. That had been the first time Percy had truly seen Annabeth; the first time he had truly seen the gorgeousness that radiated from her.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Annabeth thought about the moments under Mount St. Helens when she realized how much Percy had meant to her; the moments when she was about to burn his shrine when she knew she loved him. This son of Poseidon was meant for her. She was meant to love him, to care for him.

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday 

I'll share her home

Percy thought of all of the trials and tribulations Annabeth had had to face just to feel like she deserved love. He had told her so many times how strong she was and, next to his mother, she was the strongest women he had ever known: mentally and physically.

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Annabeth thought to those times in Tartarus when she didn't know if they were going to make it out alive. They had faced so many obstacles, but none could surpass the depths of hell they had gone through.

But they had made it, together.

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

Percy could star into those lovely eyes all night; those times when he had finally been reunited with Annabeth after being sent to camp Jupiter that he would just star into her eyes, making sure she was real.

Her eyes held the everything he could ever want; she was everything he could ever want.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

Annabeth felt a small tear trickle down her face; not from sadness, but from the true feeling of euphoria taking her over.

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

Percy wiped the tear away with no question. A couple of tears had made their way out of his sea green eyes, trickling down onto Annabeths princess curls.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

"I'm so lucky to have you." Percy began, taking Annabeth into his arms. He rested his chin on her head, crushing the up do she had created for the occasion. "The gods have taken a lot from me; more than I could forgive them for." He placed a finger under her chin, pulling her gaze to his own.

Emotions racked through him as he looked at the goddess before him; he had seen numerous goddesses before, but none of their beauty was comparable to his love. His mind saw Annabeth at her worst, when they were stuck in Tartarus. Even then she was gorgeous.

Now she looked him as she had then, like he was her lifeline. For him, that's exactly what she was; she kept him going everyday.

He placed a tender kiss to her forehead, her temple, her cheek, her nose and, finally, her lips.

"But I'm so glad they gave me you."

You look perfect tonight

────── ⋆ • ☆ • ⋆ ──────

{I hope you all enjoyed this! The song is "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran. As soon as I heard this song I thought of our beloved Percabeth. I'd like to do more song shots for some other couples/ships on the Riordan Universe. I'd love some song/ship suggestions!}

[falling-feuilles]

Chapter 1

CW/TW: Physical Abuse

1805 St Petersburg

The air outside was brisk and cool, not enough to warrant a thick coat, but enough to remind the citizens of the approaching winter. The daytime ambience of the party offered a sense of dissociation from reality, a distraction from the impending forces of Napoleon and his army. Despite the approach of such a powerful adversary, the usual fear and anxiety associated with such situations was missing from the faces of the guests. Most of the guests, that is. Two young women talked quietly in the corner, both around 20 years of age. The ladies were recognizable by those in society as the two daughters of Prince Karlov Meininov; Princess Elisabeta Bolkonskaya, the younger, and Princess Y/N Zhudova, the elder, by a year and a half.

“Sister,” began Y/N, “It will be alright, you’ll be with myself, Marya, and-”

“I know, I know, but… I worry for Andrei, N/N. You of all people know he hasn’t been himself as of late, even Pierre has-”

A small commotion interrupted the woman’s words, drawing the attention of the two, as well as the attention of the surrounding guests. A young man, no more than 20, argued with a small number of other, older men. Y/N sighed, knowing the likely cause for the debate. The man in question was Pierre Bezukhov, an old friend and stalwart companion. He was just over two and a half cubits tall, stout, and bespectacled. Lise gave her a knowing look, nudging her in his direction. She gave her sister a gentle pat on the arm, moving swiftly over to Pierre just as another man caught his attention.

“Pierre, old friend,” greeted the man.

“Andrei, it’s so good to see you here” he sighed. The two embraced, breaking apart, not aware of Y/N standing nearby, smiling softly at the two.

“Getting a taste of high society?”

“Yes, and making a fool of myself, as usual…”

Pierre turned, finally noticing the woman standing off to the side; he broke out into a wide grin, moving quickly to kiss her outstretched hand. Andrei did the same, greeting her with a small smile.

“How are you two enjoying the salon of our dearest Anna Pavlovna?” Y/N asked, smiling playfully.

Pierre chuckled, looking nervously around for the woman in question before continuing.

“She thinks me some sort of ill-mannered beast, but considering the conversation I just had she is not the only one.”

“Think nothing of it, I find it endearing.” He blushed, smiling a little, “But, you are right, you know,” she continued, seeing the confused looks on the men’s faces, “Russia is in need of a revolution of its own, although preferably one with fewer beheadings.”

Pierre smiled, making to continue before something caught his eye. That something being a beautiful, dark-haired woman in a Grecian dress; Helene Kuragina.

“She’s ravishing… No hope for me though. I see her every day and she hardly notices I’m there.”

Y/N sighed, looking upon the woman disdainfully. Helene was a cruel, snake of a woman; she had been immeasurably hateful towards Y/N in the past, calling her mother a “ruble-seeking gypsy of a woman” on more than one occasion. Y/N’s mother was a peasant girl of English descent who had fallen in love with a wealthy Prince, her father. They married in secret, but after Y/N’s grandparents discovered the union, they immediately broke it off, marrying him off to a wealthy Princess from the Capitol. Little did they know, Y/N’s mother was already with child and was forced to care for the child with no help from the Prince, who had no knowledge of his previous wife’s condition. When Y/N was 12 years old, her mother became ill with consumption and passed soon after. Before she died, she sent word to the girl’s father, begging him to take her in and care for her. Her father was more than happy to, welcoming his child with open arms.

“But your lovely wife? Is she well?” Pierre directed his and Y/N’s attention away from Helene, back to Andrei and each other.

“See for yourself,” Andrei gestured to where Lise stood, making small talk with a group of other women.

“She’s enchanting,” Y/N nodded, agreeing with Pierre.

“She brings happiness wherever she goes, you’re a lucky man Andrei, and my sister is lucky to have you.”

“You think?”

“I know, she cares for you deeply.”

~

After some time, and a number of enlightening conversations regarding the politics of modern Russia, Lise beckoned Y/N over, reminding her to be at her house at the appropriate time the following morning.

“Lise, I’ve already told you I’m attending Natasha Rostova’s name day ceremony tomorrow, I’ll arrive the day after you do.”

“Oh yes, my mistake. Wish her a happy name day for me.”

“I’ll be sure to.”

“Where are the two of you off to?” Pierre questioned, adjusting his spectacles. Y/N lifted her hand from his arm, moving to assist her sister down the stairs.

“Hasn’t he told you? He’s going off to the war and sending me away to the country to have my baby all alone. That’s the sort of husband I’ve got.”

“Are you really?” Questioned Pierre, turning to await Andrei’s answer.

“She won’t be alone,” he began, “She’ll be with my sister as well as her own.”

“But to have my baby in that bleak place, with people I hardly know?”

“Lise, we have been through all this, it’s for the best.” he continued, “Now, take the carriage home, the doctor said you should rest. We’ll walk with Pierre.”

Lise huffed, looking towards Pierre and her sister.

“You see? He treats me like a child.”

“Lise…”

“No, I don’t care if they hear. You have no pity for me; you were never like this before.” she stopped, noticing Andrei’s irritation, “You see? I don’t believe he loves me anymore.”

Y/N sighed, she could tell Andrei off and she knew he would listen to her; he had always valued her opinion very highly. Alas, they were in public, in front of a number of people. She decided against it, as there were reputations at risk; not that she herself had much of a reputation to maintain, it was more for the sake of Andrei and Lise.

Pierre tried, desperately, to comfort Lise, as was his nature. He quickly abandoned that attempt, realizing his inexperience and lack of tact would, undoubtedly, do nothing to ease her mind. Y/N could tell, however, that the attempt was appreciated by Lise, nonetheless.

“No, no, don’t. I’ll be good,” Lise chuckled, “I know Andrei wishes to speak with you. You won’t be too long?”

“No, my love.”

“Goodnight Pierre. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

Y/N moved forward, pressing a kiss to each of her sister’s cheeks before the two men began once again to walk down the final few stairs. Pierre offered Y/N his arm, her gloved hand resting upon the dark wool of his coat.

The trio walked along the street, passing beneath street lamps and small trees. The silence was comfortable, familiar. They crossed a small, cobbled bridge before any of them dared to speak.

“You’re really going to the war? You don’t think Napoleon’s the antichrist like the rest of them?” Pierre asked, looking to Andrei.

“It’s got nothing to do with Napoleon.”

“Then why, Andrei?” Y/N interjected, stopping to face him. Her face was calm and retained all the composure expected of a woman of her standing; save for her eyes. The E/C orbs were hard as iron, unafraid to stare him in the eye. Despite looking upon Andrei as a brother, her sister came first. Always. Lise had always been her first priority, since they had first met she was always responsible for her well-being, despite being older by a mere year and a half. In all honesty, she wasn’t angry at Andrei, as Lise was, or concerned for his safety, as Pierre was, although that was certainly a priority. Pierre stood beside her, looking at her face. He recognized the disappointment and confusion in her eyes. The three of them had been close long before Andrei and Lise had begun courting. It was an unconventional friendship, but it had lasted for far longer than any of them had expected.

Andrei took a moment before replying, formulating his words

“Because I can’t bear any more of this life. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, night after night.”

Y/N continued walking, shaking her head. Her hand began to tremble lightly as it rested on Pierre’s wrist. At this slight shaking, Pierre looked down, noticing the movement and the distress palpable on her face. He rested his other hand on hers, gently squeezing it. She looked up at him, gratefully. Her body pressed closer to his, as though he was a rock, anchoring her in the sea of frustration and distress that was closing in around her.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s the truth,” he continued, swiveling to face Pierre, muttering under his breath, “Never marry, Pierre. Don’t make my mistake.”

Y/N turned to face him, face distorted in anger. Never had she expected that Andrei would say such a thing in front of her, Pierre clearly felt similarly. She lifted her hand gently from beneath Pierre’s, and promptly slapped Andrei across the face.

“You will NEVER refer to my sister as a mistake!”

Pierre was shocked, he had never seen Y/N this furious before. She had always been very well-mannered and calm, even when people insulted her heritage, choices, or her appearance, but this was nothing like he had seen from her before. Andrei lifted a hand to his face, cupping the now-reddening mark upon his cheek.

“Honestly Andrei, you don’t want to fight because you can’t bear any more of your life as it is, you want to fight because you can’t bear yourself any longer. You think no one loves you, or cares for you, or gives a damn about your well-being. We do! You are stuck in such a state of self-pity and self-hatred that you no longer recognize when people, your friends and wife for a start, are concerned for you. I just…” she paused, calming herself before continuing in a quiet voice,”You have so much Andrei… more than so many will ever have, and you’re willing to throw it all away for… for nothing.”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Pierre began, but she held up a hand.

“Life’s not fair, Pierre. You and I know better than most, it’s time he knows. Until then, I must take my leave.” She turned to leave, head held high despite the sadness in her eyes. Pierre grabbed her arm, she paused for a moment. Their eyes locked, solid E/C meeting deep brown. Pierre himself knew that life wasn’t easy. He was the bastard son of a Count, but he had been raised as close to a legitimate child as a natural son could be. Y/N, on the other hand, was raised in a poor town, by a woman whose only source of income after her father’s departure was the sale of her own body; while Pierre and Andrei wanted for nothing, she wanted for everything and it had showed.

He could see it in her eyes; the anger at Andrei’s willingness to abandon his family for a cause he didn’t believe him. The envy of his early life, and the ease with which he had lived it. And finally, the sadness that he couldn’t appreciate the life and opportunities he had been given. He released her arm, allowing her to walk away.

She reached the end of the street, making her way back to the salon to retrieve her carriage. Her feet travelled the familiar streets, easily carrying her back to the event, which was winding down. Guests wandered steadily out, the women escorted by the men into their carriages. Y/N made her way through the crowd alone, searching for the familiar carriage she had arrived in.

A hand on her back distracted her from this pursuit, causing her shoulders to clench as she whirled around. A man stood behind her, tall and dark. Y/N recognized him as Prince Anatole Kuragin, standing beside him was his father, Prince Vassily Kuragin. She curtsied, offering up her hand as was customary. Both men took it, the younger Prince lingering far longer than she would’ve liked.

“Princess Y/N, you look as lovely as ever. I have been trying to get into contact with your father in the hopes that we, meaning my son and I, could visit with you and your father. Unfortunately, he hasn’t returned my letters.” He paused, allowing her the chance to respond.

“As much as I appreciate your interest in the lives of myself and of my father, we don’t often receive guests; much less guests who we haven’t personally invited. If my father was interested in meeting with you, he would have done so already. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am rather tired and would like to return home, have a lovely evening gentlemen.” She moved back to her carriage, noticing her driver standing near it, waiting to assist her.

“Dear Princess-” started Anatole, only to be cut off by his father.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t be able to squeeze us into your busy schedule? We are rather eager to visit.” she sighed, turning back to face

“Prince Vassily, forgive me, but even if I was available, I can assure you neither my father nor myself are interested in whatever proposal you may have for either of us. Good day.”

This time, she was allowed to walk uninterrupted back to her carriage, stepping in with the help of her driver.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Yes, Sergei, I am. Thank you for your concern.”

As soon as the door was shut, she placed her head in her hands. She undid the pins keeping her plaits in place, allowing them to fall past her shoulders to her lower back. As she slowly unravelled the braids, her mind began to wander; back to the argument. Had she overreacted? Probably. Had she ruined her friendship with the two men? Most likely. But, was she right? Most definitely.

She resolved to draft two letters when she returned home, addressed to Andrei and Pierre. As she neared the gates of her house, she noticed the lamps were lit in the Western-most Room of the building. Father was still awake, despite the late hour. After exiting the carriage, she began to hear the distant melody of a piano. As she approached the double doors, she recognized the familiar tune of Dussek’s Piano Sonata No.18, Op. 44. It had been a long while since she’d heard her Father play the piano.

Her Father suffered from not only the early onset of the memory loss and confusion associated with old age, but also a failing heart. Thus, he had lost much of his knowledge and ability to read music, but was physically unable to do much else. Her Father had always valued music very highly, considering it a necessary part of a child’s education. Following this ideal, he had enrolled both Lise and Y/N in piano lessons, as well as the flute and the violin, respectively. While Lise was competent at playing the flute, Y/N was considered by many to be a very talented violinist, even at a young age. This was one of her few talents deemed recognizable and praiseworthy by the upper members of society.

She entered the doors, quickly hanging her cloak and heading into the parlor. Her ailing father sat on the bench, arthritic fingers moving across the keys to the best of his ability. The sheet music in front of him was haphazardly placed on the stand in front of him, distracting him from her presence. She looked around for her violin case, noticing it sitting, open, on the sofa.

The sound of the violin was a frequent one in the Meininov household, and a welcome one at that. Very rarely, however, was it accompanied by another instrument. This was one of those rare times. While there was no true accompaniment to the piece being played, Y/N certainly made it sound like there was. Her movements were sure and precise, easily providing a more prominent melody to the piece.

This continued for the next couple minutes, until her Father, while turning the sheet music, knocked the papers onto the ground. He did not seem to recognize that fact and continued playing, if one could call it that. His piece of the music became more and more discordant; his memory of the piece having faded as quickly and abruptly as it had fallen on the floor. Y/N set her violin down quickly, moving to restrain her Father. At this rate, he was going to damage his fingers and the piano. He became still, opting to grab her wrist in his hand and stare at her, showing no recognition in his face. While the pressure started out light, it quickly became unbearable.

“Father, you’re hurting my arm… Father, let go…” she let out a hiss of pain, feeling his iron grip continue to grow tighter. “Alexei! Mikhail!”

The two men came into the room, noticing her struggling in his grip. They moved forward and grabbed his arm, attempting to pry his fingers off her. After a minute of this struggle, he calmed down, released her, and walked out of the room as if nothing had happened. Y/N cradled her arm to her chest, noticing the mark already beginning to bloom red beneath her skin.

“Are you alright, mistress?” asked Alexei, moving to her side.

“Yes, yes,” she pulled her sleeve over the marks, “Thank you for your help.”

They nodded, leaving the room. She could hear whispers emanating from behind the doors they had left from. As her footsteps drew near the door, the whispers stopped and hurried feet moved quietly away from the doors, back to their respective positions within the household.

When she reached her chambers, a young woman was waiting inside to help her prepare for bed. She made to dismiss her, but the maid, a girl named Alexandra, approached her, taking her hand gently. She pushed up the sleeve of Y/N’s dress, exposing the injury. Despite being newly made, it was already painfully red and extremely tender to the touch. Alexandra led her over to the pair of chairs residing in the corner of the room.

“What are you-?” Y/N began, but a sharp pain in her arm cut her off. She grimaced, looking to where Alexandra was carefully prodding the bruise, feeling the area around the mark.

“I think you might have sprained it, my lady,” she answered quietly, tucking her hand into the pocket of her apron, drawing out a roll of clean cotton. The two sat in silence while Alexandra deftly wrapped the bandages around the bruise, obscuring it from sight. After tucking the end of the bandage into itself, finishing the task with ease.

Y/N lifted her newly wrapped appendage to her face, noticing the skill with which it was bound.

“Who taught you medicine?”

“My mother, she was a nurse before… before she got sick.”

“I see; is that why you came to work in our household?”

“Yes she has been suffering from consumption for the past few months and we don’t-” she hesitated, voice breaking. After a moment, she continued. “We don’t have the money for her medicine so my sisters and I had to find work.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, where is she being treated?”

“At our aunt’s house, she was a nurse too, but we can only do so much without the proper medication.”

Y/N nodded, moving quickly over to the desk seated in the adjacent corner. She withdrew from one of its drawers, a sheet of paper and a small box. The box contained a quill and an inkpot, as well as a wax imprint with which to seal letters. She quickly drafted a note to her family’s doctor, instructing him to provide all necessary medications and assistance to Alexandra’s mother, and to charge all costs to her personal account.

After a few short minutes, Alexandra was given the letter, now sealed and addressed to the physician. The girl examined the letter, clearly struggling with the words on the outside.

“Can you read?”

“I… no, I can’t.”

“This letter is addressed to my physician. I’ve instructed him to provide your mother with the necessary medical care. I’ll inform the carriage driver to bring you there tomorrow morning.”

“But, I can’t afford it, we-”

“You won’t be paying, he will be charging it to my account.”

Tears brimmed at the edge of her eyes, threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

“Thank you so much, you’ve no idea how grateful I am,” she placed her arms around Y/N, hugging her tightly. She smiled softly, patting Alexandra’s back gently.

“Now,” she released the girl, wiping the tears from her face, “Run along, you should be getting to bed soon.”

Alexandra nodded, holding the letter close to her heart as she left, closing the door behind her.

Y/N brought her hand closer to her face, tracing the bandage with the tip of her finger; writing the letter had been painful, far more than she would have imagined. So, her apologies would have to wait for the time being.

A/N: If you find any spelling mistakes, please message me the part, chapter, and sentence. I’ll do my best to fix it, thank you!

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

A Highlander Walks into a Bar by Laura Trentham

Highland, Georgia #1 Laura Trentham is an author I know will deliver a great story whenever I find a book to read that she has written. Being asked to participate in the blog tour of this first book in a new series was a special treat. I read the first book quickly and am eager for the next. Isabel “Izzy” Buchanan picks her mother up from the airport and her mother says she has a surprise. Izzy was a bit taken aback that the surprise was a man her mother “picked up” in Scotland. Gareth has a charming brogue and is a nice man but he is NOT her father. When Alasdair Blackmoor arrives, to check up on his uncle, Gareth, his brogue is equally intriguing. Izzy doesn't trust either of the men and Alasdair has similar thoughts regarding Izzy and her mother, Rose. Rose and Isabel are in the midst of putting on the annual Highland Games and both Gareth and Alasdair will be there for the festivities. Throw in some romance, some secrets, a company with dastardly intentions, a small supportive community, a hunk of a farmer guy with his eye on Isabel (hope he gets a story in this series) and a few others and this book was all that I hoped it would be. I can’t wait for the next book that will probably star friends of both Alasdair and Izzy – and the couple will definitely meet in – Highland, Georgia. Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Paperbacks for the ARC – This is my honest review. 5 Stars

Buy-book link: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250315021

BLURB

The timeless romance, soaring passion—and gorgeous men—of Scotland comes to modern-day America. And the rules of love will never be the same…

Isabel Buchanan is fiery, funny, and never at a loss for words. But she is struck speechless when her mother returns from a trip to Scotland with a six-foot-tall, very handsome souvenir. Izzy’s mother is so infatuated by the fellow that Izzy has to plan their annual Highland Games all by herself. Well, not completely by herself. The Highlander’s strapping young nephew has come looking for his uncle…

Alasdair Blackmoor has never seen a place as friendly as this small Georgia town—or a girl as brilliant and beguiling as Izzy. Instead of saving his uncle, who seems to be having a lovely time, Alasdair decides he’d rather help Izzy with the Highland Games. Show her how to dance like a Highlander. Drink like a Highlander. And maybe, just maybe, fall in love with a Highlander. But when the games are over, where do they go from here?

EXCERPT

From A Highlander Walks into a Bar. Copyright © 2019 by Laura Trentham and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

Chapter One

“I brought home a surprise!” Rose Buchanan threw her arms out wide as if embracing the world. From the sto- ries she told to the way she entered the room, Rose was exuberant and entertaining and enjoyed being the center of attention.

Isabel Buchanan, who was perfectly content on the fringes, pushed her wavy hair off her sticky forehead with hands that trembled from the nightmare drive through At- lanta to the airport to pick up her mom. Her mom’s trip to Scotland had doubled as both research and vacation. The jammed stop-and-go traffic had left Izzy flustered and al- ready dreading their exit from the airport.

Rolling her stiff shoulders, Izzy stepped around the bumper of the car, popping the trunk open on the way. Her mom had a beautiful plaid scarf of greens and browns and blues tossed over her shoulder and what appeared to be new earrings. Either purchase might inspire her mother to gush, and she would expect reciprocal gushing from Izzy. Making an educated guess, Izzy asked, “Are those ear-

rings your surprise?”

Without waiting for an answer, she hauled one of her mom’s giant wheeled suitcases closer and prepared to

2 laura trentham

heave it into the back. The sooner they got out of Atlanta, the sooner she could get back to work planning the High- land festival. Or she might pour an extra-large glass of wine and escape into a book. A guilty pleasure, consider- ing how much she still had to get in order in three scant weeks.

“Allow me, please.” A bearded man who had been roll- ing cases to the curb stepped forward with a grin and an accent Izzy couldn’t place.

She checked her pockets and winced. No cash to tip the man, and no hope her mom had thought of something so inconsequential.

“Do you like them? They’re hammered silver.” Her mom flipped her bobbed matching silver hair to the side and displayed one earring with her fingers. “And as a matter of fact, I did buy them from a lovely shop in Edin- burgh, but I brought something bigger home. Something more exciting.”

“Your scarf? It’s lovely.” Izzy gave her mom limited attention while she watched the man load suitcase after suitcase into her trunk, fitting them together like a puzzle. More luggage than her mom had left with. She waved to catch the man’s attention. “Hang on. That’s not all my mom’s stuff.”

For the first time, Izzy really looked at the man. He was close to her mom in age, and good-looking in a bear- like way with a gleaming white smile highlighted by a salt-and-pepper beard. His full head of hair was a shade darker, but graying heavily at the temples. The expres- sion on the man’s face when he looked in her mom’s direction—a mix of adoration and amusement—cleared the fog of confusion.

Lord have mercy, her mother had brought back a six- foot, two-hundred-pound-plus souvenir from Scotland.

AUTHOR BIO

Laura Trentham is an award-winning author of contemporary and historical romance, including Then He Kissed Me and The Military Wife. She is a member of RWA, and has been a finalist multiple times in the Golden Heart competition. A chemical engineer by training and a lover of books by nature, she lives in South Carolina.

Q&A A HIGHLANDER WALKS INTO A BAR

What inspired you to write A Highlander Walks into a Bar?

It was actually a Buick car commercial from a couple of years ago where a grandson picks his grandmother up from the airport and she says saucily, “I did a lot of shopping in Italy.” From behind her luggage steps an Italian gentleman. Of course, my writer brain kept picturing what happened after the three of drove off and twisted it into an entire story but had to make up a town for them to return to!

Another big inspiration is a real-life place: Helen, Georgia, is a town that has transformed itself into a German village. It’s picturesque and they celebrate Octoberfest every year. I twisted that concept and made my little town of Highland, Georgia, into a Scottish village including an annual Highland Games that the Buchanan ladies put on every summer which is an important aspect of the book.

Introduce us to your main characters!

Isabel Buchanan is the daughter who picks her mother up from the airport only to be surprised by the appearance of Gareth Blackmoor, who happens to be keeping his title of Earl of Cairndow a secret from everyone in Highland, Georgia, including Rose Buchanan, Isabel’s mother.

Alasdair Blackmoor is Gareth’s nephew and heir to the title and castle in Scotland. He’s been sent to round up his wandering uncle and to make sure he isn’t being taken advantage of by some pushy American women. Complications ensue, including love (of course!)

Lots of aspiring authors out there. Any advice for them?

To become a better writer, you must write. Sounds simple, but I know so many aspiring authors who get stuck in their own head. They plot and make inspiration boards and talk about writing, but when the fingers hit the keyboard, they get mired in doubts. Just get the words down. They don’t have to be perfect; they don’t even have to be good, but you can’t fix a blank page!

How is A Highlander Walks into a Bar different from your other books?

While it’s still a Southern small town romance, it has a definite rom-com vibe. Expect low angst and lots of laughs! I love to read reviews where they reader has literally laughed out loud at several points.

I know asking someone’s all-time favorite book is a loaded question so what’s your current favorite read?

Two series I have loved lately are Katherine Arden’s Winternight Trilogy (a fantasy retelling weaving medieval Russian history and folklore) and Deanna Raybourn’s Veronica Speedwell’s mysteries (a Victorian butterfly hunter teams up with a taxidermist to solve mysteries. I mean, seriously, how can you beat that combo?!)

Alright, the ultimate question: why should we read your book?

If you need a pick-me-up, good-time, laugh-out-loud book, then read A Highlander Walks into a Bar!

Favorite quote or scene you wrote in A Highlander Walks into a Bar?

As the woman continued to stare at him as if he were the bearer of the bubonic plague, his smile faltered. He stuck out a hand. “I’m Alasdair Blackmoor.”

Although he registered a split-second hesitation on her part, she took his hand. “Isabel Buchanan.”

Her handshake was firm and no-nonsense, but her palm was soft and her hand small in his. On closer inspection, her eyes striated into all different shades of brown and amber, and freckles dusted her cheeks. He hung on to her hand for too long, but couldn’t seem to pry himself away.

Breaking the spell, she wrested her hand from his, pulling it into a fist. Was she planning on throat-punching him? He rubbed his neck and took a step back, out of the radius of her magnetic energy, and her reach. On her approach, she’d seemed birdlike, insignificant even, but up close, he was having a hard time not staring like a first-class prat.

He was punch-drunk with exhaustion. It was the only logical explanation.

She stuck her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, stretching her red V-neck T-shirt tight. His gaze dipped instinctively and then stuck around to read the print on the pocket over the soft curve of her left breast: Highland. The Heart of Scotland in the Blue Ridge.

She cleared her throat. His gaze shot to hers, and he blinked to try to refocus his thoughts. “I was admiring . . . I mean, reading your shirt.”

“It’s not a novel.”

His face heated. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed this hot and fierce.

What inspired you to become a writer?

I’ve always been (and still am) a huge reader. My youngest child started preschool and I wasn’t ready to go back to work in what I’m trained for (chemical engineering) so I sat down one morning and started writing a book. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing until I was around halfway done and loving every minute! That book became a Golden Heart finalist, got me an agent, and is published as An Indecent Invitation, a Regency historical.

What is a typical writing day like?

During the school year, I work while the kids are in school. I love the flexibility of being there to pick my kids up and drive them to soccer or gymnastics or chaperoning field trips, etc.

Do you have any interesting writing quirks or habits?

My only habit is a bad one in that I drink *way* too much coffee while I’m writing! It’s become a ritual, I suppose.

What has been one of the most surprising things you’ve learned as a published author?

How slow the industry can move, but also how quickly changes have come because of indie publishing.

Can you tell us about what’s coming up next after this for you writing wise?

For my contemporary fans, I have my second women’s fiction releasing early February 2020, An Everyday Hero. The second book in the Highland, Georgia, series, A Highlander in a Pickup, releases late February 2020.

For my historical romance fans, look out for A Wicked Wedding in the Once Upon a Christmas Wedding anthology releasing in October 2019. And two more full length books in the Spies and Lovers series, A Sinful Surrender and A Daring Deception, coming sometimes in mid to late 2020!

How can readers connect with you online?

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLauraTrentham

Or join my reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1733284316920632/

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