#sobbing loudly why did i pick up crafting

[devotedlystrangewizard]

man i still have to finish the loporrit quests

[duuhrayliegh]

unrequited bucket list

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: language, angsty, some smut, but that’s mostly it i think.

a/n: this was a request and it took me so long to write it bc i’ve been taking summer classes so i’ve been super busy so i’m so sorry abt how long this has been sitting in my inbox :) i love y’all

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!

link to my full m.list

xoxo ray

To say that you were proud of him was an understatement. You absolutely adored him , maybe more than a best friend should. You had known him since high school, being an outcast as much as he was. The two of you bonded over your differences, bonded as if you were siblings. He only saw you as a sister, yay. You hated that. You fell in love with him the first time he sat down with you at lunch. You tried to avoid it, but you fell fucking hard, face first into the pavement. Sebastian was a captivating man, and he fucking knew it too, introverted bastard.

Girl after girl after girl. He had game, you had to hand it to him, and he mostly crafted it himself. Did he ask you for advice when it came to girls? Absolutely, you were the closest person to him besides his mom. When he started acting, you went with him. Splitting the apartment with him, running lines for auditions, being the helpful sister that he thought you were. You remembered when he was auditioning for Fifty Shades of Grey. You thought you were going to melt into the floor when he fucking looked at you like that.

Now, here you were sitting on the couch of your shared apartment, downing glasses of wine, alone because he was out celebrating the release of his new movie. You were so proud of him, so, so proud. You were curled underneath a fluffy blanket, rewatching Criminal Minds episodes. Really you were just trying to get your mind off of Seb. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, making you lean forward with a groan to pick it up. Not coming home alone ;)

You dropped your phone to the couch, of fucking course he isn’t coming home alone. You texted him back quickly, okay, i’ll clear out. Every bone in your body was telling you to stay and interrupt his plans, but you just couldn’t do it. You picked up your blanket, trudging to your room and tossing it on the bed. Scrolling through your contacts on your phone you found the one you were looking for. You balanced your phone in between your shoulder and ear as you listened to the rings.

“Hello?” Chris’s velvet voice rang through your speakers.

“Hey, Chris. Can I come stay with you tonight? Seb is bringing someone home and I don’t really want to be subjected to that torture.” Chris’s sigh was heavy and disappointed.

“Again?” You let out a short laugh at his comment.

“You know how he is after a movie. I just can’t be here while that’s happening.” Chris agreed as you packed a duffel. The ride over to Chris’s house was tricky. You had been dealing with Seb’s more playboy ways for years now, but this was just harder for some reason. Chris opened the door after you knocked twice. Your shoulders were slumped over, duffel bag weighing you down physically. Chris opened his arms wide, waiting for you to initiate the hug he knew you needed.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Chris led you to his couch, dumping your duffel next to his dining table. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as you both sank down on the cushions. “Why don’t you just tell him you love him, Y/N?” You scoffed loudly at Chris’s comment.

“As if! You kidding, Chris? He only sees me as his sister. I’m not willing to go through losing him just because I have these fucking feelings.” Your voice was cracking, not wanting your sobs to escape.

“You never know, Y/N. He might surprise you.” Chris backed away from you, leaving to get a glass of water for you.

“I love Seb, but that man is so clueless. There’s absolutely no way that the love he has for me is anything other than platonic.”

******************

The door pushed inwards at the turn of the knob. Sebastian’s lips hadn’t left the girls before him, his hands roaming her torso, gripping lightly. He listened to her little moans, smiling into her mouth. He pushed her against the now closed door, hips holding her in place. Her hands traveled to his hair, pulling harshly causing a groan of pleasure to leak into her mouth.

He leaned down, gripping the back of her thighs, waiting for her to jump. He wrapped her legs around his waist. He brought his hands to her ass, kneading the flesh there. Sebastian dumped his phone and keys off on the bartop before he brought this woman into his room, plopping her on the bed. He caught his upper half with his arms, lips still locked with hers. She ground her pussy into the bulge in his jeans.

“Mmm, Sebastian.” The woman beneath him moaned in his ear. “Are you gonna fuck me good?” She leaned forward, gripping her hands at the nape of Sebastian’s neck. Her hands drifted to Sebastian’s cheeks, jerking his head to the side, biting down on his earlobe. Sebastian brought his head out of her reach, ducking lower to land sloppy kisses on her exposed chest. The woman below him moaned again, tangling her fingers in his dark tresses. Sebastian allowed his hands to roam her lower half, slowly pushing the fabric of her dress over her hips, his lips never leaving her skin. The woman pulled harshly on his hair, causing a short groan to leave his lips.

“Mhm, Y/N, baby.” The air shifted. The woman beneath him hesitated for a second. She pulled on his hair again, yanking him up to face her.

“I’m Tracy, baby.” Sebastian’s cheeks heated, but not from the actions he was committing. He decided to ignore Tracy’s comment.

“Well then Tracy, can I take this off of you?” He plucked at the fabric covering her breasts, eyes darting up to look at her through his lashes. A move that he knew would get him what he wanted.

“Oh, god. Yes. Please, yes.” Sebastian backed away, just long enough to shed the dress from Tracy’s body. He didn’t stop to admire the woman under him, that wasn’t what he was here for. Instead, Sebastian dove back in. Sliding down her body, stopping at her waistline, her pussy covered by a hot pink thong. How original, he thought. He slipped a finger in the fabric above her lower lips.

“Can I?” He smirked as the woman stuttered out a yes. Sebastian wasted no time, pushing the thin strip to the side to begin his mission. He focused on the woman’s clit, sucking harshly, then backing off, continuing this cycle until she was begging him for more. Sebastian felt a sharp sting on the crown of his head then a dull ache as the woman used her leverage to bring him closer.

“Please, Sebastian!” Sebastian moaned at her tugs, vibrating against her exposed clit. The woman threw her head back at the feeling. Sebastian smirked into her vagina, softly thrusting two fingers inside her. “Oh my god, Sebby baby, please!” Sebastian’s brows furrowed slightly, not sure how he felt hearing this woman call him your nickname for him. He ignored the knot growing in the pit of his stomach.

“You okay with this?” Sebastian’s lips were latched onto her neck, mumbling into her skin. The woman’s throat fluttered with a groan, she pulled his head back to look in his eyes.

“My name is Tracy, I want you to use it, baby.” She kissed him harshly, “And yes, fuck me now Sebby baby.” He grimaced on the inside, not letting the emotion show on his face as he removed his clothes. The woman’s hands came up to his waistband after she took off her dress. Sebastian stepped out of his pants as the woman’s hands landed on his underwear band. She looked up at him through her lashes, a smirk painting her features underneath the obvious layers of makeup. He once again ignored that nagging feeling once again. Instead, Sebastian’s head fell back as the woman’s lips wrapped around his hardened cock. His head dipped backwards before pulling her back up by her hair.

“If you do that, I’m not going to last.” He tossed her backwards, his left hand gripping his shaft preparing to guide it into the woman’s ready and wet pussy.

“Oh! Yes! Sebby baby! Fuck me hard!” She yelled as Sebastian pushed into her fully. He drowned out her moans, feeling that feeling in his stomach grow yet again. He knew it wasn’t from pleasure, but he couldn’t quite place the actual feeling. Eventually, Sebastian felt his pelvis rest against the woman beneath him. His head dropped, chin resting on his chest.

“Oh, god. Y/N.” The words just slipped out. The woman under him was apparently oblivious to what he said. Unfortunately, he figured out what the feeling was as he was balls deep in this random woman. His dick softened, his body disgusted by his actions, not letting him partake in the action he wanted to. The woman under him scoffed.

“Did you just--?” Sebastian pulled out, backing away from her. He cupped his now flaccid penis, grabbing a pair of sweatpants out of his dresser.

“Yeah, I did. Look you’ve gotta go. It’s not you, I’m just hung up on another girl, I guess.” The naked woman on his bed held a baffled facial expression.

“You’re fucking with me, right?” Sebastian tilted his head at the woman occupying his bed, biting his bottom lip.

“Trust me.” He scrunched his nose at the situation. “Normally, I would fuck you so hard that you wouldn’t be able to walk right tomorrow, but I’ve got some shit to work through.” Her jaw dropped in disbelief. She pushed herself off the bed, walking seductively towards him. Sebastian crossed his arms over his still bare chest as his eyes ran over her naked form.

“I can help you work through it, Sebby baby.” Sebastian’s brows raised as he side stepped her advances. He leaned down, picking up her discarded dress from the floor, holding out the crumpled fabric to her. The woman clenched her jaw, eye slightly twitching. She huffed as she took the dress from him, pulling it over her head. She was still huffing as she walked to her shoes, slipping them onto her feet. The woman rolled her shoulders, squaring herself before facing Sebastian again. She approached him again, walking her fingers up his still bare chest.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help with your little problem?” Her eyes flicked down to his groin, brows raised. Sebastian walked past her, opening the door.

“You need to leave, Tanya.” The woman stomped her foot like a child.

“It’s Tracy.” She stormed past him, on her way out the door. Tracy stopped once more before leaving, holding her phone up. “I’ll call you later, Sebby baby.” She winked at him as Sebastian slammed the door closed. Sebastian turned to the now empty apartment that he shared with his best friend, the only girl he’s ever really wanted in his life besides his mom. He dropped his head into his hands, groaning at how clueless he’s been.

“Fuck me, man.” He walked off to his room, stripping the bed of the sheets and comforter. He threw them in the wash before retreating to take a shower to wash off the remnants of Tracy.

*******

Meanwhile, you were curled up on Chris’s sofa, drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Not the most healthy, but you were also not really caring about being healthy at the moment. You stroked Dodger’s head as he laid next to you on the couch. He came back into the room and groaned at the sight before him.

“Oh my god. Where the hell did you find that?” He snatched the bottle from your hand, putting it out of your reach. “You’ve gotta get up, sweetheart.” You swatted at him. Your hand felt heavy as you let it flop back onto the couch without resistance.

“What’s it matter?” You glared at the ceiling as Chris sat on the coffee table in front of you. “I just want to forget Seb right now, Chris.” You let your head drift to the side to face him, still petting Dodger. “It just so happens that I want to let good ol’ Jackie help me through it.” You held your hand back out to him, opening and closing your fist. “So gimme, Christopher.” You weren’t drunk, Chris could tell that much. He could also tell that you were hurting way too much to know when to stop drinking, so he wasn’t going to provide you with anything that could hurt you in the long run.

“You don’t want to forget Sebastian, Y/N.” He leaned down, locking eyes with you. “You love him, remember?” You groaned, flopping back against the couch, disturbing the peaceful dog beside you.

“Ugh! Yes, I know that, Christopher!” You sat up quickly, hands resting on the cushions on either side of your legs. “I also know that Sebastian has absolutely no romantic feelings for me!” You stood suddenly, walking to Chris’s kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from his fridge. You took a swig of the refreshing liquid, deciding something on a whim. You stalked back over to your stuff on Chris’s dining table, rifling through your possessions for your phone. You held the object in your hands, dialing Sebastian’s number before Chris realized what you were doing. The phone was already up to your ear when Chris figured out what your plan was.

“Sebastian!” You spoke into the speaker to the man’s voicemail box because he couldn’t be bothered to stop his most recent hook-up to talk to you. “We really need to talk! I’m heading home now, so if you’ve got a bimbo there, get her out.” Chris started towards you. Your eyes widened as you continued talking into the speaker. “I don’t want to walk in on you fucking some chick because we’ve got some real important shit to talk about.” You ran away from Chris, shouting now. “Actually, I’ll just say it now. I don’t like you anymore! I don’t! I’m tired of waiting for you to feel the same way, so I’m giving up!” Chris stopped in his tracks, disbelieving as he listened to what you were saying. “Also, I’m moving out. I can’t do it anymore Sebby.” Your eyes filled with tears, as you finished  talking. You ended the call and locked eyes with Chris.

“What did you just do?”

“I can’t take it anymore, Chris. It hurts too much.” Your eyes were glassy with unshed tears and they would stay that way. You’ve spent too many nights crying to Chris about your unrequited love for Sebastian Stan. “I deserve better.”

“But you’re in love with the man!” You shrugged your shoulders as you shoved your stuff back into your duffel. “If you go through with this, you’re really going to lose him.” You hesitated, gulping harshly at his comment. You shook your head.

“That’s a risk that I’m going to have to take.” You turned to face Chris fully. “Chris, I can’t do this anymore. Every time I get those texts that he isn’t coming home alone, everytime he asks me for advice about a date, everytime that he invites me to his premieres. I. Can’t. Do. It. Anymore.” Chris tilted his head at you, understanding what you mean. He opened his arms for you like he did when you first got there. “I can go to a hotel if you don’t want me here, that’s fine.” You spoke into his neck as he held you.

“Surely you aren’t serious.” He pushed you back by your shoulders. “You’re welcome here for as long as you want. Long as you walk Dodger sometimes.” Dodger let out a bark at the mention of his name, making you and Chris laugh. You offered him a watery smile.

“Thank you Chris. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest.

************

Sebastian had just finished remaking his bed when he realized he lost his phone in the process. His newly cleaned sheets were calling for him to join them and he longed to. What he really wanted though was to wake up to you in those newly cleaned sheets. He looked around his room, picking up his jeans from earlier, checking the pockets for his jeans. His mind was scattered with all these new emotions, so he wasn’t thinking straight.

He was unsuccessful in his search of his room, so he traveled to the living room. He spotted his phone on the countertop of your shared apartment. As he picked up his phone, he thought of all the times you sat on the counter, watching him make dinner for the two of you. A small smirk crossed his features as he remembered the one time you attempted to make brownies, almost burning down the apartment building in the process. He shook his head, glancing down at the phone in his hand. The screen lit up with a new notification from you, well, new being from two hours ago. He opened the voicemail, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Sebastian!” He smiled when you said his name. “We really need to talk! I’m heading home now, so if you’ve got a bimbo there, get her out. I don’t want to walk in on you fucking some chick because we’ve got some real important shit to talk about.” He winced at your comment, guilt bubbling in his chest. He could hear Chris shouting at you in the background of your message, making him smile at your naturally funny nature. “Actually, I’ll just say it now. I don’t like you anymore!” Sebastian’s stomach dropped as he continued listening. “I don’t! I’m tired of waiting for you to feel the same way, so I’m giving up!” He listened as you inhaled sharply, he could hear the sobs you were withholding as you ended the call. Oh my god, no. His head snapped to the door as he heard a key turn in the lock.

“Y/N?” Instead of seeing your face, he saw Chris. Sebastian walked to him quickly. “Where’s Y/N?” It was a question, but he wasn’t really asking. He needed Chris to tell him.

“What does it matter to you?” Chris was immediately on the defense for you.

“Chris, come on man.” Sebastain was begging at this point. “You know how I feel about her.” Chris cocked a brow at Sebastian, settling his hands on his hips.

“Then why all the women, Seb?” He pointed to the door, “She is suffering because you can’t man up and admit that you fucking love her.” Chris walked into Sebastian’s space, backing him up. “Why should I tell you anything, Sebastian? After what you did to her?”

“Because I love her!”

“You love me?” Your voice sounded unusually small coming from the threshold of the apartment. You walked to stand slightly behind Chris, wanting a physical barrier between the two of you. Sebastian’s shoulders sagged as he took in your wrecked form.

“Yes, Y/N. I love you.” Your eyes flicked from Sebastian’s to Chris.

“You can go Chris. Sebastian and I have a lot to talk about.” Chris turned to you, hand on your forearm.

“Are you sure? You can stay at mine if you want to.” You smiled at him, hugging him quickly. A slight feeling of jealousy flared in Sebastian’s chest, which he knew he had no right to be feeling. You seemed to be whispering something in Chris’s ear, enough to reassure him that you were okay. You stayed quiet as the door shut behind Chris. Your eyes hadn’t left the spot that Chris had been standing in.

“Please say something, Y/N.” Sebastian pleaded. You shrugged, finally bringing your gaze to his. Sebastian’s heart clenched as he stared at your glossed over eyes.

“What is there to say, Sebastian?” Sebastian went to respond when you cut him off. “No, you know what, I’ll tell you what there’s to say. You love me. Too fucking late. You love me after bringing in girl after girl after girl. You love me but you asked me for help on your nightly excursions.” You stepped towards him, backing him into the counter.

“You love me but you have no shame in texting me that you’re not coming home alone. You love me but you have the audacity to think I’m deep enough in sleep to bring a girl here while I’m home.” You backed away quickly, leaning your weight against the back of the couch. “What the fuck is that Seb?” You threw your hands up, “I told you over the phone that I was done. I was serious.”

“Y/N. Please, hear me out!” Sebastian started, but you weren’t having it.

“No! I’m in love with you! You don’t have to say anything. I know you only have platonic love for me which is fine! I’m in love with you, Sebastian Stan. I just needed to say that to be able to move forward.” Sebastian’s brows furrowed at your last statement, he pushed off the counter, starting toward you.

“You needed to say that to be able to move forward?” He stopped in front of you, making you straighten up and rise to your full height. Even though you weren’t as tall as Sebastian, you refused to be too much smaller than him. “What do you mean by that?” You scoffed at him.

“You know what it means, Seb.” You swallowed a fresh batch of tears. “It means that I love you, but I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much, so I need to move on.” Sebastian’s eyes roamed your face.

“What if I don’t want you to move on?” Your brows furrowed. “What if I have more than platonic love for you?” He dipped his head closer to yours. “What if I’m in love with you too?”

“That’s a really cruel joke, Sebastian.” You pushed on his chest, but he didn’t move.

“Good thing it isn’t a joke, Y/N.” His lips met yours in a feverish kiss. You gasped as he moved his lips with yours, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. You let yourself enjoy the moment for only a few seconds before breaking it off, wiping your mouth in disgust.

“Ew, Sebastian. I know for a fact that you had one of your bimbos up here earlier. If you think I’m kissing you after that bitch then you’re fucking delusional.” You were able to shove him away from you in his shocked state. You went immediately to your bathroom, ignoring the mass of a man following you. You started brushing your teeth vigorously, glaring at him as your toothpaste foamed from your scrubbing.

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t even fuck her?” Sebastian leaned against the doorframe of your bathroom. You laughed as you rinsed out your mouth.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Sebastian brought his hand up to clutch his heart as if your comment physically hurt him. You walked past him to your dresser pulling out a pair of spandex and a random shirt. Sebastian placed himself on your bed, leaning against the headboard as you went back into the bathroom to change. When you came back out, Sebastian’s heart dropped. You were wearing one of his shirts that he’s been looking for.

“Wow.” His eyes ran over your body in his clothes. A blush spread over your cheeks, as you wring your hands into the hem of the shirt. You shuffled to the other side of the bed, not sure what to say to him. You pulled back the covers on your usual side of the bed, crawling in and getting comfortable. You shifted your body to face Sebastian who was sitting under the covers now too.

“Look, Seb. I’ve loved you since we were kids, but you’ve really hurt me with all the women that you’ve just proudly pranced in front of me.” You laid down, settling your head on your pillow. “So it’s definitely going to take time for me to trust you.”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes, Y/N. I really do love you.” Sebastian said as he leaned over, placing a kiss on your forehead. He went to leave, but stopped when your hand gripped his wrist.

“Now that I’ve confessed my love for you, do you want to help me cross something off of my bucket list?” His brows raised as he waited for you to continue. “Will you sleep here tonight?” Sebastian smiled big, what he wanted was going to happen too.

“Of course, Y/N.” He snuggled in close to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his body. He pushed his face into your hair, inhaling your shampoo. “Mmm, I’ve wanted this for a long time, Y/N.” You smiled at his action.

“I’ve wanted this too. I just wish one of us would’ve said something sooner.” You placed a soft kiss on the junction of his shoulder and neck, letting your eyes drift closed.

“Me too, Y/N. I’m not letting you go anytime soon though.” He felt you smile into his skin at his statement as he also slipped into a happy slumber.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Pickett

*bangs spoon on pot* NEW OC NEW OC i can't be tamed

CW: Magical whumpee, branding/scarification, burning, scalding metal, Whumper as caretaker, ... nice? whumper, implied nudity for a second, restraints.

(Pickett can transform into a marten but will never be whumped as an animal.)

The magician smiled as he walked through the market, taking in the sights of the bustling coastside Town. There were stands and carts, open shops and peddlers selling their wares. He could see the docks from the stone streets, could smell the foul salt in the air.

This was the last stop before the wild, before the world opened to those brave - or stupid - enough to explore it. It was a place of last chances, of hastily made decisions and half-thought through plans. Just like all the others, he was there to make his name.

One such salesman waved him over, encouraging him to spend his coins for the compasses and maps that could guide him to riches and fame. He waved him off, continuing on his walk. A girl offered him a handheld loaf of fresh bread, but he waved that off as well. The little creature sitting on his shoulder lifted it’s head to see, slowly following the girl with it’s blue eyes as the Magician kept walking. He smiled and scratched under its chin, more than happy to stop at another stand and buy the little furry thing some fruit as a treat.

~~

The moment the door was closed and bolted behind them, the creature jumped down from its perch around the man’s shoulders to the floor. He turned to busy himself with his organization, putting away his hat and bag with a dim blue light glowing behind him. When Errold turned, he threw the boy that had appeared in a wam brown robe.

Pickett wrapped it around himself quickly, hissing in a breath. His wrists - his wrists ached fiercely. Everything hurt, a dull pain that settled along his spine and across his hips. He had spent too long in his animal form, too long with bones and muscle and sinew out of alignment. He leaned side to side, trying to stretch out as quietly as he could. Something popped and his breathing hitched.

“Pickett? Are you okay?”

“Oh! No, I’m-I’m-I’m okay,” he said quickly, smiling up at Errold. He didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to catch on. If he did, he might try and fix it and he, he couldn’t handle that right now.

Errold looked down at him, brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

Pickett nodded a little too quickly, and winced. Errold raised a brow.

“I’m, it’s- I’m a little sore,” he finally admitted, pulling the robe closed tighter. He looked up apologetically to see the magician’s concerned face. “But I’m okay! It was just a long time.”

Errold hummed, walking over to the dreaded bookcase. “Not all that long, Pic. Let me see what I can do.”

“No!” Pickett tried to stand, to reach out a hand to stop the man, but his legs couldn’t hold him up and he fell forward. He hit his nose on the way down, and even though it didn’t hurt much, there was still blood on his hand when he drew it away. The Magician tutted and went down to his knees.

“Look at you, making a mess of yourself,” he muttered, examining the boy’s face. For some reason, Pickett shivered under his gaze.

“What, what, what if I, what if I just walked-” the man sighed loudly, interrupting him. Pickett cowered further into himself, avoiding eye contact. He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask, but what danger could they really be in here?

“Pic, you know better than to ask that. Again,” Errold muttered, picking up the boy and depositing him onto the low table. “You know why, you must still remember how dangerous it is out there for people like us. They’d lock me up, take you away from me.” He paused, lifting his chin gently until they finally met eyes.

“You don’t want that, now do you?”

Pickett blinked up at him and took a deep breath before he shook his head. No, no he didn’t want that. Errold laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back flat against the wood. As the man walked around, back to his book and supplies, Pickett’s heart was slowly starting to race. While he was distracted by his own fear, a hand slipped under the boy’s shirt near his stomach.

Errold cried out, jerking his hand back and shaking it to get rid of the spark of pain. Pickett sat up on his elbows, eyes wide. The older man glared at him, hand smoking faintly.

“Wait, wait wait wait, I can explain! I can!” Pickett tried, crawling backwards off the table. Errold didn’t bother to respond, striding forward and pinning him down. The boy squirmed and wiggled, but was no match in his exhausted state. Soon enough there were long strips of linen securing his wrists and ankles to the table legs, two more going over his collar bone and hips.

Gruffly and annoyed, Errold wrenched up his shirt to examine the intricate lines of gold that covered his body. Pickett tried to interrupt, to distract him, but was shushed harshly. With a sigh, the man ran his fingers along one line that had been scratched and inched and the gold picked out of the scar. He gave Pickett a disappointed side-eye.

“Pickett-”

“I’m sorry!” Pickett cried out, eyes glossy but no tears spilling out yet. “I’m sorry! I am! But, but it itched and, and Errold please it felt better when I took the rune out. I can control it this time, I really can. I know I can!”

Errold leaned down and cupped the boy’s face in both hands. Poor thing was shaking, scared of what was going to happen. He hated to see him this way, hated that this was really the best way to apply the runes.

“I know, I know Pic - and I’m sorry, Sweetheart. But you can’t just claw them out. They’re there for a reason, and you need to respect that. I know you don’t want to, but I have to put them back. Shh, don’t cry, Shh I know, I know it hurts. But you need them, Pickett.”

He brushed his hand down the boy’s dark hair, looking into light eyes as the tears spilled over and down his cheeks. Poor thing. Pickett shut his eyes and laid back against the wood, trying hard to stifle his crying. Errold was right, he was always right. But it would be okay, he could do it. He had survived the other hours upon hours it took to bind the rest of his body, he could make it through re-placing a few lines on his side.

And whatever other ones Errold would add.

When the muzzle was placed against his mouth, he didn’t buck or try to fight it. Honestly, it was almost welcome. The process hurt, and others would be disturbed by his cries of pain. Errold pet his hair back one last time with an affectionate look before he lifted the boy’s shirt all the way and went to light the small fire.

The rods of gold were long and thin, small as a delicate sprig from a rosebush. They were expensive and shined even in the leather pouch Errold kept them in. It had to be a good quality gold, one that was pure enough to handle the weight of the magic. As harmless as they were in this form, Pickett still shivered when he heard them clink together.

Errold used a bit of dusty chalk to paint the correct lines across his skin as he waited for the fire to build. This part never hurt, but the sensation of it still made his heart race. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to wait.

The magician could see how hard the boy was trying for him, and he smiled sadly. Poor thing, but it really did try and be good for him. He would of course care for it afterwards, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. Donning thick gloves, Errold picked up a rod of gold and placed it in a specially crafted pipe. He’d had to make all these tools himself, designing them to work for what he needed. This pipe would not only help him melt the gold, but also apply it in even lines.

When it was ready, he returned to the boy bound to the table. He laid a hand on Pickett’s stomach in sympathy, then began his work.

Pickett cried out the first moment the molten liquid touched his skin, back arching and struggling in his restraints. It was beyond painful, beyond words he knew to describe it. It was burning through him, searing away paths and lines to cool in his skin. He sobbed into the muzzle, tears streaming down both sides of his temple. Every line, every dash burrowed farther into his skin. The pain built and built, with no regard to how much he could withstand. It didn’t care. It had no stake in how hard his heart pounding in his chest or how his lungs heaved for air. He just had to get through it, had to survive it.

He curled his hands into fists until he could feel the bite of his nails.

Errold hushed him softly, focused on following his chalk outline. His heart ached lightly, but only lightly. Pickett knew better than to dig the runes out. Any pain from the re-working of that was his own fault. Errold was doing this for his own good, he understood that. Pickett needed these, and Errold needed them.

It was mutually beneficial, he told himself.

Right as he was on the cusp of passing out, Errold pulled the pipe away to show he was finished. The new lines of gold over the boy’s dark skin were practically still glowing red, not yet having cooled down enough to shine their signature color. The magician didn’t dare touch them, just laid a damp cloth over the area.

Pickett whined loudly at the feeling, still heaving for breath. He could barely tell if his eyes were open at this point, just feeling like the world was distant from him. A hand touched his face to remove the muzzle but he couldn’t muster the strength to respond.

“Shh, shh Pic, you’re alright. Here,” Errold started, lifting him bodily from the table. Pickett whimpered, totally unaware that he had been untied. He was gently placed in his hammock, gratefully on his unhurt side, and left there as the magician tidied the rest of the room. The boy got his eyes open a few times, but the world was still blurry. He huffed through his nose and rubbed his face against the fabric, itching at the tear tracks across his face.

“Alright then,” Errold’s voice came and Pickett raised his head up. The man gathered him back out of the hammock and laid him on the bed. With just the back of his hand to the boy’s forehead he could tell he was already getting the fever, so he laid a damp cloth across it. The other wounds were still too tender to apply anything too strong, so he just used a general salve.

Pickett remained mostly quiet through the rest of the bandaging, simply letting it happen. He was a little more aware, however, when the magician wrapped his unharmed hands in bandages as well.

“To keep you from messing with them, Pickett,” Errold chided at the boy’s confused sound. Picket hadn’t done it much, but it would have to be something he would have to keep an eye on now. Perhaps he would pick up some mitts somewhere.

By the time he was done, Pickett’s fever was raging and he had to replace the cloth. He then returned him to the hammock to rest while he turned to his real work.

A request for a spirit guide had just come in, and it was an offer Errold had no desire to resist.

~

Tagging @yet-another-heathen cause this idea actually came from a convo with them!

[writersrealmbts]

Diamond Tears and Little Wings: Part 5

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 02/11/2021

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Angst/Fluff/Angst: 3,846 words

A/N: Okay, I told you guys that I would be alternating between DTLW and Clearwater Springs, so here’s the proof. Anyway, two more parts after this!

Your fourth home in five years is what they told you this was. But you couldn’t remember any but this one.

So your heart was aching, and you always wanted to cry, but you never dared to do so. Something, someone’s, words, telling you that crying in front of strangers was dangerous kept echoing in your head. So you blinked away any tears that came, hugged your stuffed animal, and studied the area you would lived in.

It was a little cold, so you hugged your coat tighter to you. You’d been told by the other fairies that your coat was special, because it appeared to be designed exactly for your wings, which was rare. But none of them seemed to have any idea why you would have such a special coat, excepting the fact that maybe in the country you came from it was more normalized to have custom wing-slits.

It was completely normal to come away from a home with a stuffed animal, and clothing and jewelry that could shrink down. People liked dressing up fairies.

You played with your bracelet as you examined the cement floor, and the plain white walls, and the windows that weren’t quiet fully insulated but were full east and full west, respectively, and provided quite a bit of natural lighting. You had your own bathroom and kitchen area, and the laundry room was in the basement. The bed was a bit creaky, but the mattress seemed decent. You had a cute lamp on the side table, and they had a few books for you on a bookshelf that had the bottom shelf broken beside the side table.

There was shoebox bedroom on one of the shelves as well, very simple, with just a bed in it, but it was decorated carefully—though perhaps by their daughter. There was felt covering the floor and back wall, which would provide a little insulation for you. The outside was colored on, but you didn’t have a problem with that.

There was an old rug rolled off to one side that they said you could use, and a bar with some hangers already hanging on it and plastic drawers they said you could used for your clothing.

You looked at your suitcase, which was resting on the bed, then set your dog on top of it while you got the rug, unrolling it and placing it near your bed.

Your job there was to do their laundry and take care of the cat that their daughter wouldn’t let them get rid of, and to entertain their daughter now and then, and when you weren’t delivering the clean laundry or entertaining their daughter you were to stay in the basement bedroom. Simple enough.

The cat was a sweetheart and the laundry was quite simple with only three people to wash for. Laundry was tossed down the shoot daily and every Monday and Thursday you were to deliver their clean laundry before they awoke.

They weren’t cruel, or strict, just very structured and busy.

She was very kind and brought you groceries, even getting you exactly what you requested. You just had to leave a list with her laundry on Mondays, because Mondays were grocery days. She even spontaneously bought you a cake, and when you told her that the basement was a little cold for you, she found a nice heater for you that greatly improved things, and found some more blankets around the house for you. They were generally gone over the weekends, visiting a different set of grandparents each weekend, which left you and Cupcake, the cat, alone in the house to do as you pleased.

Those were the days you ventured down to the fairy market, which was a safe space for fairies and since you did get an allowance for doing the laundry, you could sometimes buy some special treats or things that you needed.

You weren’t a fan of the husband, which was fine, because he only seemed to come downstairs if he needed to check the water-heater (they were having issues with it and he was too stubborn to call whoever it was that professionally dealt with those things), or to ask you to do an emergency clean on a shirt or tie or slacks. It wasn’t that he was mean, or sleazy, or that he gave you bad vibes, he was just very grumpy and brisk. Cold.

And he hated the cat.

Plus you had the distinct feeling that if he found out about your diamond tears it would be a very bad thing. He was a greedy man, raising a greedy daughter.

But you had a CD player now, and you could find CD’s now and then at the fairy market, and the wife said you could use any CD’s you found in the basement.

Which was how you found your current favorite CD. You weren’t certain who the artists were because the disc hadn’t been in it’s proper case, but their songs were so nice. And you loved the one song.

So some days, when you had nothing to do but give the cat all the love it wanted, you just listened to that CD on repeat, singing words as though you’d known them before.

You did different crafts, and solved some of the abandoned puzzles from the storage room.

You improved your shoe-box, replacing the bed (it was a sponge, hard and weird to lay on) with a carefully arranged nest of fabrics and stuffing. Sometimes you stuck your stuffed dog into the shoebox and snuggled into that. The smells on it so familiar and foreign that it made you cry.

Which meant you had to find a place to hide your tears. Normally you just saved them and exchanged them at the fairy market—where the currency exchange fairy, Heidrun, just discretely nodded and added their value to your shopping card balance.

But one day she stopped you before you could leave, holding your hands. “You don’t look well, dear.”

“Fourth home,” You told her simply, shrugging. “It’s more of a job than a home. But I’m not…I’m not suffering. She always makes sure I have what I need and allows me a lot of freedom. I have the whole basement to myself, and I’m allowed in the side-yard at all times. She even encourages me to come here. And I have music to listen to. Actually, I found a CD I really like, but I don’t know what band they are because it doesn’t say on the disc.”

“Try Magnus, he knows everything going on in the music scene,” She told you, squeezing your hands. “And trying to hold onto whatever love you’ve got and are getting. It’s not healthy for our kind to go unloved.”

You nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Magnus did help you, granted, you had to sing a couple of the songs for him to find the right group, but once he did, he sent to you over to Frida with a request for BTS albums.

Frida nodded, pulling out several book-like things. “They’re super popular, but they’re also in a ton a magazines right now. They lost their fairy because of some scandal, and now they’re in a slump, but they’re also going on a world tour, so it can’t be that much of a slump. They’re actually coming to our stadium for a concert, which is cool. They’ve started putting up the posters already.”

You looked at the books, confused. “I thought you said they were albums?”

“They are. The CD’s are accompanied by a booklet of photos and the lyrics, photocards, and usually a poster.”

You blinked then picked up the biggest one, concerned and confused. “It’s…huge…and a box?”

She just snorted. “You want that one? It’s one of their more recent ones. Don’t have their newest yet, but I can see if I can get one for you.”

You nodded. “That’d be nice, but sure, I’ll…take this one for now.”

She nodded and swiped your card. “All yours, sweet-cheeks. Now, tell me how you get your hair that shiny.”

You grabbed your hair and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wash it.”

“Not even fair,” She muttered, then turned to a new customer.

You went home after hitting a few more stalls, getting more craft things and some stuff for the kitty, hugging the album and wondering what awaited you inside.

Cupcake was waiting for you on your bed, sitting up and meowing loudly, stretching out a paw for you to take (which you did because why else teach him that trick) and then purring and arching into your hand.

“I know, I was gone for forever,” You scooped him up after successfully setting everything else down. “I bought some new music for us. You need a better name. A masculine name. You don’t respond to Cupcake anyway—not that I blame you. It’s a rather poor choice of a name for a cat, much less a tom.”

He just purred, climbing up onto your shoulders and riding there while you put away the few food items you had purchased and hopping onto the fridge while you started cooking your dinner.

You hummed as you tried to think of a different name for him, but after a moment you paused, wondering what song it was you were humming and why it was so familiar and yet so distant. So easy, but you couldn’t remember. You couldn’t remember the moment you stopped singing what the words were or how the song went, despite having reached the chorus. You could only remember the last words you sang.

You shook your head and went over, quickly opening the box to where the disc was in the album without seeing any sign of the pictures (Maybe a poster?) and then popping it into the player.

But it was worse than the first one, because you swore you knew each song. You had vague images in your head of people performing the songs. It hurt. It hurt to hear these songs because they were too familiar. Too familiar and yet so completely foreign that it was unfair.

The first one wasn’t too bad, but the second started really getting to you.

By the third song you were in tears.

By the chorus of the fourth song you were full-on sobbing on the bed.

The fifth song clashed so much with the sentiments of the previous two that it just broke you down further, and you had to turn it off before you started screaming at the empty space where the music should have come from.

You grabbed the photos from the album box after you had calmed down enough. Not bothering to try and remove the sticker, you slide the photos out and started flipping through the pages, horrified at the fact that they looked so achingly familiar and yet you had no idea who they were.

You tossed them back in the box and slammed it shut, eyes filled with tears.

But you must not have woken when someone came into the basement, because three days later the man was demanding to know where you got so many diamonds.

And fairies can’t lie.

Five days later you were staring out the window, a place you couldn’t go until you filled the box on your small counter space with diamonds. It wasn’t too large, but it was large enough that you were worried about whether you would ever fill it.

So you turned on the disc again, and cried. Cried until you were sick, and then collapsed into your bed. Exhaustedly petting the cat until you fell asleep, only to repeat it the next day. And the next.

When you finally filled it, you went straight to the market just to get some time away from the basement.

The shopkeepers from your regular stops came rushing up when they saw you, even Heidrun, all asking where you’d been and if you were okay and before you knew it you were sitting at one of the picnic tables with some soup and some tea and a bunch of worried fairies fussing over you.

Frida sat silently across from you, looking concerned but ultimately staring at the table.

Or so you thought, because she suddenly reached across the table and grabbed your bracelet. “Where did you get this?”

You blinked and tried to recoil, but couldn’t. “I don’t remember. I just figured it was from one of my previous homes.

Magnus frowned, looking at it. “It looks a lot like the one that…”

She nodded. “There’s something etched onto them. Fairy craftsmanship. Come over to my shop. Come on.”

You followed her, curious, and not wanting to let something you had a very strong attachment to out of your sight.

First she tried a jeweler’s eye loupe, then she wrinkled her nose and grabbed a flashlight, shining it through the gems and onto the table.

You stared down at it, confused.

“Something tells me your family didn’t give you up willingly,” Magnus said, voice a little tense.

Frida looked at you, as though she couldn’t believe it. “You’re the fairy that was taken away from BTS?”

You just looked back at her. “Um…is that what all of that means?”

“How did you like that album you bought?” She asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

You shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to think about how much you had used it to make yourself cry, because if you did then you knew she was right. And if she was right, then it would be even sadder.

“Weren’t the one that said that they couldn’t have been too sad about losing their fairy to be going on a world tour? Why would I want to be her?”

“No, they talked about it…it’s because they’re trying to find her. Find you. They didn’t say it explicitly because they could get in trouble for that, but they’ve hinted at it and there are tons of reports and pictures of them visiting every fairy sanctuary they could without compromising their performances. It just took a while for it to hit the news for us. Y/n, they’re looking for you. And if this is any proof, I think they love you and you need love. You look like a skeleton with skin.”

Heidrun gently pulled you into her arms. “What changed? You were doing alright and then you were gone and you come back looking like a ghost.”

“They found my tears,” You whispered.

She inhaled sharply, not quite a gasp, and held you tighter. “You can’t stay there.”

“I can’t leave there either. Where would I go? I would just get arrested and brought back to them.”

Frida folded her arms. “Leave it to me. You go back, lay low. Maybe try to appeal to the lady of the house. I’ll have you out of there as soon as I can. In the meantime….”

“I’ve still got a backlog of your diamonds, come get them just in case he asks again.” Your arm was gently pulled toward the currency exchange station.

You took the bag, and the treats most of them packed up for you. If the love of other fairies was enough to sustain you, you never would have been in this mess. But fairies, while kind and caring, didn’t have enough love for other fairies to keep them alive, especially once exposed to the love of a family. Fairies were good, and kind, and helpful, but also emotionally unstable which made it hard to focus enough love into one another without a consistent source of outside love.

It was a miracle your species had survived as long as it had.

Cupcake greeted you, meowing pathetically and hopping into your arms.

You sat down on your bed with him. “Let’s think of a new name for you.”

Eventually you settled on Keyowo, which was close to his current name but meant friend and was just…it was better.

You then set to deep cleaning over the next week, shrinking your things and tucking them into your suitcase to keep them out of sight.

On Tuesday he beat you to tears because you weren’t producing tears fast enough.

The album caught your eye again on the next Friday.

You picked up, tracing the seven on the cover, and then opening it. You pulled out the poster and unfolded it.

They were in white, with feathers floating down and a hole in the floor. They all looked so good.

You touched the one on the far left, wearing the sweater. Slightly cat-like facial features. You felt like you knew what his hands looked like, even though you couldn’t see much of them in the picture. Slightly calloused, bony, but gentle and careful. Caring for everyone.

“Yoongi,” You whispered, choking up. Tearing up.

Your fingers traced over each of them, names a whisper in your mind. A whisper that turned into shouts, memories flooding your mind of each and every one of them. Your mind screaming for them because your throat was too tight to even whisper.

They were your boys.

They had to let you go.

You weren’t supposed to remember them.

They weren’t supposed to try and find you.

The next day you shoved everything into your bag, tucked the cat into your coat, left a note for the missus and headed straight back to the fairy market.

Frida looked surprised when she saw you. “Whoa, what happened? Is this the kitty your were telling me about?”

“They’re gone for the weekend, that means even if I stay nearby they’ll think I’ve had two days to run out on them. I need you to help me get me back to my family.” You teared up. “I need to find them.”

Frida nodded, glancing around and closing her shop. “Come on. You can stay with me.”

Frida’s family consisted of a pair of siblings.

The sister, Alena, was a fairy rights activist in her spare time, which is why Frida had so much freedom, and a huge music fan. She had a whole wall of CD’s and albums and posters. Stacks of magazines featuring musicians.

The brother, Agnar, was quiet, “just an accountant”, and very kind. And very affectionate toward Frida.

Frida was equally affectionate toward him, bringing a fake gag from Alena.

They helped you find an outfit that hid your fairy-ness, and he got you tickets to the concert, all of you hoping that it would get you close enough for them to see you and recognize that you were there. Also, it would help you health-wise to see them in person and the rush from the concert would be overwhelming, but also might revitalize you.

Then Alena forced you to sit in the bathroom with her while she applied a cloth to your face with epsom salts to try and reduce the bruising and swelling on your face. She told you about the fairy abuse responders, and how she would call them in the morning and tell them about your family.

Agnar totally stole your cat.

Frida let you sleep in her fairy-home (because it definitely wasn’t a dollhouse and it was awesome, of course).

Four days later, you were at the concert venue with Alena, taking a seat and soaking in the atmosphere. People were talking all around and some people were chanting the boys’ names. Another group was starting to sing the songs.

You listened nervously, wondering whether it was true or not that they were looking for you. What if they were just making a fuss to get back at the company a bit? What if the media was making things up? It wouldn’t be the first time a story was fabricated for magazines.

Then the concert started and you and Alena were cheering for your boys, but you wondered why you ever thought they’d be able to see you in this mess.

It wasn’t until the second half of the concert that you had hope.

The boys were in more casual outfits, having more fun.

And they were all wearing the jewelry that Namjoon had made from your diamonds.

Jimin was the one who saw you first, though he looked right over you and then seemed to try and pinpoint you again, but was unable to in the crowd. He stood there with a smile plastered on his face, acting as though he was studying each Army’s face when you knew he was searching for you.

So you stood still in the writhing mass that of the crowd, and studied him.

He had lost weight, and if it hadn’t been for the makeup, you bet he’d look fairly wrung-out.

All of them looked like they’d been sick enough to lose weight.

Taehyung came over and practically dragged him away (making it look playful).

But Jimin said something to Jin and Jungkook.

Jungkook was over there as casually as he could, totally looking at the camera and doing ‘fanservice’. But he obviously didn’t spot you.

Jin didn’t either.

But Yoongi did during the very last song and he stopped, staring, then he was crouched, hand over his mouth, just staring in your direction.

You waved, wondering if he actually was staring at you.

He smiled, but it also looked like he wanted to cry. He waved as well, then cautiously moved off, still keeping an eye on you.

You bit your lip, smiling.

Alena squealed and grabbed onto you, and the two of you did your best to fit in with the rest of the crowd.

Both of you lingered as long as you could afterward, her extremely hyped from the whole concert and talking a mile a minute, while you were feeling…exhausted? All of the emotions around you and finally seeing your boys again….

But you had no idea how you were going to get to them, or how they were going to get to you.

Until you saw Sejin, scanning the crowd.

The likelihood of him being on the side of the boys was pretty good.

You tugged on Alena’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

Sejin locked onto you and started moving, coming your way, waiting until the straggling fans that had been around you were gone before telling security to let you through.

You dipped your head to the security guards, then bowed slightly to Sejin. “Hello.”

Sejin smiled. “Hello, y/n.”

You bit your lip. “I remembered.”

He nodded. “I figured. We all figured. They’re waiting. They’re all waiting.”

You were practically vibrating.

“Come on, let’s get you back to them. Your friend can come but she needs to wait in the hallway for…security purposes.”

You nodded and relayed the information to Alena, then both of you were following back to the waiting room.

Sejin stopped by the waiting room. “Go on in.”

You nodded, putting your hand on the doorknob and then turning it and going in.

–

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[kafka-ish]

a long time coming | r.t.

when a familiar face shows itself in derry, a familiar feeling picks up in richie’s heart

word count: 8,012

warnings/included: nsfw (smut, fingering, and regular vanilla sex, first time stuff), fluff (like... a conspicuous amount of fluff), fem!reader

a/n: gL gamers

-

y/n y/l/n was coming back to Derry. 

To any other bystander, this wasn’t news. However, to Richie Tozier, it was because Richie Tozier loved y/n y/l/n.

He loved her when they were five and she had introduced herself as the girl who moved in next door. He loved her when they were ten and she made friendship bracelets for both of them (which he would later find out she made friendship bracelets for all the Losers). He loved her when they were thirteen when he should’ve spent his time running from the bullies at his toes instead. And he loved her when they were fifteen when he was writing love letters. But she’d never see them because she was away at some fancy boarding school in New York, per her parents’ request. 

“I don’t see why you gotta go,” Richie said glumly. He was looking down and kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. Even if this would be the last time he’d ever see her, it would be too hard to look her in the eyes. 

Richie was the last one y/n told about Hoosac School. But if y/n had the option, she wouldn’t have told him at all. It was hard enough for her to bid her goodbyes to Bill, Stan, Eddie, Bev, Ben, and Mike. 

Naturally, Beverly was the first one she told. She was the only other girl in the Loser’s Club and the one y/n hung out with the most aside from Richie. Beverly was a blubbering mess. The brown mascara she applied delicately was running down her cheeks in ugly streaks and her red hair would sit tangled on her head for the next few days. 

Bill was next, but Bill knew everything. He found out from Bev the next day and confronted her about it at school. And y/n would sob into his shoulder and ask him what to do. 

“Tuh-tell the others,” he said sympathetically. 

So she did. 

She told Ben, Eddie, and Stan in her next period she shared with him. Ben sadly stroked her arm and told her he could have one of his CupCakes at lunch. y/n smiled, the sweet gesture easing the pain from her mind. And she told him she would take him up on that offer only if they were orange flavored.

Eddie cried that day, but he passed it off as an allergic reaction to the different brand of air freshener Mrs. Clarke used. Stan and Ben were just kind enough to believe him.

Stan was always the voice of reason. He told her this would be a great opportunity to learn new things and make new friends, but he also made her swear she’d write him—them—every week and call every night. He thought y/n would laugh at him for being clingy and compulsive but she didn’t. She took his hand in his, squeezing it firmly when she assured him she’d call every night and write every week.

But a certain sadness washed over her when it was Mike’s turn to receive the news.

It was on an early Saturday morning when he did. She offered to help him out with the farm—partly to spend time with him and partly to get some wear in her new overalls she’d thrifted before she left.

“I know… you’ve probably already heard.” y/n swallowed harshly before continuing. She was aimlessly shoveling a hole in the ground and she stared at the soil as if it were his brown eyes because this would be harder for her to say than harder for him to hear. “I’m leaving Derry.”

The sun wasn’t even up yet, but Mike was able to comprehend her words just fine. “When?” They were both turned away from each other—her working on the hole and him working on the bean sprouts.

“A month after school lets out. Don’t worry, Mikey. There’s still time for me to help you on the farm.”

“Just so you can dig holes in my daddy’s soil? I don’t think so.” Both y/n and Mike laughed. For a moment, y/n had forgotten about the packed boxes in her empty bedroom and the plane tickets her parents kept in an envelope for June the first.

And now y/n stood in front of Richie only a few days after she’d be boarding that plane because she’d been putting off telling him the way she did with the rest of the Losers.

y/n was staring at his forehead, desperately trying to meet his eyes. She didn’t care if the last time he’d be seeing her was with smudged mascara and red eyes, but she needed to see him. “My parents are making me,” she repeated. “If it were up to me I’d..”

“Don’t go,” Richie said abruptly, cutting her off. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her—even if her lips were bitten raw and her eyes welled with salty tears that he’d kiss away in his dreams when he went to bed that night. “To hell with your parents. You can live with me, kid. It’ll be like college but without the debt.”

y/n sniffed. Even though Richie was the funny one, she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Maybe if the words were coming from Bill, Stan, or Ben, but not Richie. Not when her whole life was in front of her and there was no sign of him in it.

Richie frowned because if he couldn’t put a smile on her face, he didn’t know what would. A strong silence edged itself between the two of them. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. He pushed up his glasses lazily with his index finger to get a better look at the sad sight ahead of him who was poorly trying to contain her sobs.

“Hey, kid.” Richie took her in his lanky arms. Neither of them said anything after that, but Richie couldn’t help but think if he said those three words maybe she wouldn’t have left.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” She’d say. They’d spend their next three years together attached to the hip before college sweeps them away. But they’d find each other later in life; at a record shop or on the streets of New York. y/n would ask “Richie, is that really you?” And Richie would reply in his British-man Voice:

“’Ello, luv. Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

y/n would be left in a stunned sort of silence for a while—not because she was unsure if the person standing in front of her was him, but because she was in awe. In awe that she finally found him.

But now Richie didn’t have to wait. He didn’t have to wallow in his own pity because the girl he loved was no longer two states away, but a couple of minutes away as he paced back in forth in Stan’s room.

“Calm down, Richie.” Stan was laying on his bed, trying to ignore his friend’s loud footsteps. Even though he had forced Richie to take his shoes off before coming into his house, his feet still thumped loudly against the floor. He was uncharacteristically thrusting a baseball between his two palms. It cut through the air smoothly as it moved side to side in his soft hands.

“What do you mean calm down?” Richie stopped in his tracks so he could shoot him a cold stare. “How am I supposed to calm down?” His heavy steps had resumed. Stan sighed.

“Just don’t make such a big deal out of—”

“Don’t give me that shit, Stan.” Richie groaned and went to tug on the friendship bracelet y/n gave him from when they were in grade school. It was a habit he’d picked up when y/n left. Whenever he got nervous, or irritated, or missed her, his right hand would find his left and wind around the memento. Arguably, that friendship bracelet could be deduced to a tangle of old, ratty strings; better yet, trash. But in Richie’s magnified eyes, it was still the same bracelet made of vibrant blue and green yarn y/n had bought from the craft store and braided with her small, meticulous fingers.

“What shit?” Stan scoffed because sometimes Richie could be irrational. “It’s called honesty. And honestly, it’s just y/n. What could go wrong?”

What could go wrong? Hell, everything could go wrong. She could forget who I am. Or better yet, she would remember and hate me.

“She won’t hate you,” Stan said unconvincingly in his usual monotone voice. It was like he could Richie’s mind, but Richie was obvious when it came to this stuff. Painfully obvious.

“Wuh-what’cha guh-guh-guys talking ab-bout?” Bill let himself into the room without knocking. Neither of the two boys minded. “I br-brought my bb-b-base-ball cards. But I’m keeping the Babe Ruth—”

“We’re not trading today, Bill.” Stan put down the leathery ball which sat in his left hand and sat up exasperatedly.

“W-we’re not?” An odd sort of sadness flicked across his usually bright features and he pocketed the collectibles. “Ih-ih-if we weren’t you sh-sh… could’ve cuh-called me fuh-fifteen minutes ago.” He went down to sit on Stan’s bed with him but was met with a harsh stare and a scolding instead.

“Take your shoes off!” He screeched and Bill toed off his old, beat-up Keds.

“So, wuh-what are we doing… if wuh-we’re not trading?” Bill asked.

“Richie just wants to talk.” Bill’s nose scrunched like a child who had just been informed liver was for dinner.

“T-t-t-talk? Get a s-s-sex change while you’re at it.”

Both Stan and Bill laughed, and Richie only grumbled. “C’mon, guys.” His pacing had yet again stopped but Stan knew he wouldn’t stay still for long. “What should I do?”

Then, Bill knew what they were talking about. It wasn’t a secret that Richie liked y/n. But like was an understatement. It just remained unsaid between the Losers. Either because Richie wouldn’t hear the end of it if they did talk about it or because… what was there to talk about? There were only so many times six boys and one girl could sing ‘Richie loves y/n’ until it got old.

“Wuh-well…” The rest of Bill’s words were swallowed by a heavy build-up of saliva and replaced with new ones before either Stan or Richie could chime in. “What do yo-you wanna do?”

“Aw, man. Lots of things.” Richie took a seat next to Bill on the edge of Stan’s neatly made bed. Stan groaned and shoved a pillow over his flushed face. He was torn between wanting to hear the details and hating that Richie was taking this conversation to a sappy turn. “The first thing I’d do would probably pull her in for a hug and kiss her cheek… And then I’d—”

“Beep Beep, Richie.” Stan’s muffled voice came from under the pillow and Bill laughed in agreement.

“Kuh-kiss?” Bill asked skeptically.

“Yeah. I know that’s new vocabulary to you, Big Bill, but—”

“No,” Bill said, ignoring Richie’s previous, rude, comment. “I mm-mean, you cuh-cuh-can’t kiss y/n.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Richie said, only half-listening to what Bill was saying. But Bill’s next statement grabbed Richie’s (and Stan’s) full attention.

“I cuh-can’t. But her b-boyfriend wuh-houldn’t like it.”

“y/n has a boyfriend?” Both Stan and Richie said in unison. The pillow flew from Stan’s face and his eyes were now widened with interest.

“How’d you find out?” Stan sandwiched himself between Bill and Richie. Richie was almost falling off the bed and he wanted to scoff because if anything he was more a part of the conversation than Ol’ Stanny Boy.

“Oh-oh-over the phone. Sh-sh-she called muh-me and s-s-s-said some-thing about a guh-guy named Tr-Tr-Trevor Mmm-Martin. Nuh-Nothing s-s-serious at the tuh-time. Bb-but…”

Richie didn’t catch the bullshit spewing from Bill’s big mouth. His head was busy spinning in all different directions, and he felt as if he were going to puke. Though there were no signs of the tuna salad sandwich and salt and vinegar chips Stan and he shared trekking its way up to his throat and onto Stan’s just shampooed carpet. Was this what heartbreak felt like?

If so, it was one son of a bitch.

Richie couldn’t seem to enjoy himself for the rest of the day—or the rest of the week, for that matter. He didn’t laugh when Stan cracked a joke that Bill laughed at (something about Jews getting their dicks cut off as an alternative to hell). He didn’t race home to greet the girl next door he’d been longing to see. And he didn’t feel anything when that same girl was pressed against his chest during the scary part of the movie all of the Losers had planned to see.

It was a sort of ‘welcome back’ celebration for y/n. This whole week, actually, would be dedicated to y/n in regard to her return. Stan, Eddie, and Mike were the first ones at the theatre. They waited outside of the Aladdin Theatre, all three in a line while Stan checked his watch for what seemed to be hundredth time and Eddie counted the change in his pocket, hoping it’d be enough for snacks.

“Don’t worry about it, Eddie,” Mike reassured. He patted him on the back. It was firm but gentle at the same time. It calmed him. “If you don’t have enough for snacks, me or someone else can spot you. And don’t worry about paying back.”

Eddie visibly relaxed at his words but Mike didn’t know why he was all of the sudden anxious about something like that.

Just then, Bill and Bev came up. Beverly’s hair was held back in a blue cowboy bandana, a contrast to her red hair, as a makeshift hairband. Her white blouse almost blended against her pale skin and her blue jeans chafed because of how fast she was skipping. Bill was falling behind but he didn’t really care. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his denim board shorts and he walked—strolled—down the sidewalk as if he had all the time in the world.

“I’m so excited!” A harsh squeal erupted from Beverly’s lips and Eddie had to cup his hands over his ears.

“Jesus, Bev. You could blow out an eardrum with those lungs.” But he wasn’t too impressed with her vocal range.

Ben and Richie came up together. They were talking about some new comic issue—Ben looked really into it, but Richie just wanted to avoid the topic of y/n that he was sure was now prevalent in everyone’s minds. Beverly gave him a knowing smirk when the two finally reached the group and Richie displayed his best ‘what-the-fuck-do-you-mean’ expression when he really did know what the fuck she meant.

This left y/n to be the last of the Losers to arrive.

The rubber sole of Richie’s beat up left slip-on tapped impatiently against the hot cement. “How long does it take to get ready?”

“Do you think she got lost?” Ben asked curiously, hoping that wasn’t the case.

“We should go in. Y’know so seats don’t get taken.” Before the rest of the group could protest Richie’s lame idea in attempts to boycott seeing their long-lost friend, a familiar voice piped up.

“That’s awfully rude of you Tozier.” Richie turned around to see y/n. How could a person look the same, yet totally different at the same time? Her hair was longer from when he last saw her and there was a new glow in her eyes that Richie couldn’t help but think meant she lost her innocence. He could’ve sworn she got taller, but she was also wearing platform wedges with little white flowers on the straps which matched her baby blue sundress that came just above the knee.

“y/n!” Beverly was the first to say. She ran the not far distance between them and enraptured her into a tight hug. “I missed you so much! I can’t believe you left me here… with all boys.”

y/n didn’t miss a beat of Beverly’s sarcasm and rolled her eyes. “I know, how could I? I’m such a monster.” The two giggled for an ungodly amount of time which the boys summed up to a sort of telepathic communication between the two.

Ben was next to greet y/n. He said she and he could share a pack of Donettes this time and a nostalgic smile crinkled her eyes as she remembered how he shared his dessert with him when she left.

Mike, Eddie, and Stan were next. Mike told her that while there’s no work to be done on his father’s farm, they could still hang out. Eddie hugged her just like Bev had. And Stan scolded her for being late but then whispered a ‘thanks’ for keeping her promise of writing to him, even if it wasn’t every week.

y/n lingered behind to say hi to Bill when he opened the door for everyone.

“Luh-luh-long time no s-s-see. Stranger.” y/n didn’t realize the Losers were waiting for them.

“Nice to see you, too.” She nudged Bill’s arm with her elbow and walked in. They didn’t say much to each other because nothing had to be said. They had an unspoken connection. Bill was like her brother. Always knew what to say. Always there for her…

Richie was the last to greet y/n because unlike Bill, he didn’t know what to say. He could feel the words dancing on his tongue, but he knew they’d come out in either a stutter or gibberish. He was waiting at the candy counter, drumming his fingers on the glass while Ben ordered a large popcorn and Donettes. Mike paid for his own strawberry licorice whips—none of the Losers partook in his favorite candy. Beverly only got a soda, and Eddie bought his own personal popcorn, but if Stan asked, he could have a few kernels.

“Hi.” Richie looked like he had seen a ghost when y/n came up next to him. He shouldn’t have been startled by her, but he was.

“Hey…” He held off on calling her a cheeky nickname because she had a boyfriend and that would be wrong, and he had morals—

“Are you getting anything?”

That depends, are you for sale? Beep beep, Rich.

“Nothing really…really caught my eye.” He glanced at the menu one more time as if he hadn’t had it memorized from the thousands of other times he’s been there—alone or not.

“That’s too bad. I thought we could share a popcorn?” y/n asked hopefully. “Or a soda? If you’re trying to cut down on carbs.”

Richie laughed. “I thought you and Ben were sharing those mini nightmares.” His hand dove into his pocket anyway. You can never be too sure, right?

“It’s called balance,” y/n said all too knowingly. “Have you ever heard of salty and sweet makes the perfect combination?” She eyed him through her mascara coated lashes that he remembered from three years ago and Richie heard himself calling one of the girls at the concessions stand over for a large popcorn. Extra butter.

Was she the sweet and Trevor was the salty one of the pair? His mind was numb during the movie, except for the one persisting thought he couldn’t help but circle back to. y/n and Trevor sitting in a tree…

He felt the armrest that divided the seats fly up and a trembling body wiggle itself next to his. Her arms latched onto his torso tightly and her head buried itself into his tacky Hawaiian shirt. Slowly, Richie began to fall from his catatonic state. His eyes drifted down to her figure, squinting in the darkness of the theatre.

“Hey…” His large hand smoothed over her hair in petting motions as he cooed into her ear. “It’s all… this stuff’s all fake. It’s not real.” Her quiet, pathetic sobs continued throughout the rest of the movie. Richie still consoled her.

Only until the lights drew up and the Losers were the last to leave an empty theatre decorated with chewed up bubble gum, candy wrappers, and the remains of popcorn on the floor did y/n remove herself from his shirt.

“Sorry.” y/n cleared her throat and sat up straight as if nothing happened. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a horror movie.” She laughed, making fun of her own pitifulness.

“It was a h-h-horror movie. Not a d-d-drama.” Bill rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his lips.

“Girls, am I right?” Stan scoffed. He stood up, about to be the first of the Losers to leave the room until he stopped in front of y/n’s chair. “Don’t worry, I almost shat my pants.” Richie overheard him whisper in her hear.

y/n tried to eat the giggles trying to escape her mouth, but she couldn’t help it. Her laughter echoed in the empty theatre and the rest of her friends laughed with her. They didn’t understand what she was laughing at, they just missed the sound of her voice after so long.

Her small hand slipped into Richie’s sweaty one when the group met daylight which Mike was surprised at, even though they entered the Aladdin at one.

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, shaken up. They had officially fallen behind from the group, but it wasn’t like either of them cared. He took his hand from hers, opting to hold his own. Once his hand left hers he immediately missed the feeling. The warmth. The comfort. But his own would have to fair as a substitute for now.

“Just like old times… I thought.” y/n was flabbergasted at Richie’s antsiness. He wasn’t like this three years ago. Three years ago, he would’ve gladly accepted her hand in his. Three years ago, he would’ve scooped up her hand claiming that he doesn’t want her catching cold even though they stood in the summer heat.

Richie twirled his fingers around the end of his shirt. Old times. But the old times were different.

Richie Tozier was thirteen years old when he finally got his own bike to ride. He no longer had to ride double on Silver or walk to any of the functions that the Losers had planned. It wasn’t embarrassing, but no boy wanted to show up to the quarry or Aladdin Theatre riding on the back of Bill Denbrough’s bike, his arms actually wrapped around him. Especially if y/n would be seeing him.

So, he requested his parents buy him a bicycle of his own. Preferably green with a large bell so everyone knows when Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was coming. Pretty please.

And after a few months, his parents finally complied. It was green but it, however, did not come with a bell.

“You’ll just have to come up with the money for that one on your own, son.” His dad told him. But that was fine by Richie. And he excitedly pedaled off to the Aladdin where his friends would be soon, in hopes to impress a certain somebody.

“W-w-wow, Ruh-Ruh-Richie. You got a bike?” Bill asked. He wondered why his friend never gave him a call, asking to come pick and him up—he just assumed he was walking today.

“Yeppers.” Richie proudly rode circles around his friends with his new ET Kuwahara. He couldn’t wait until y/n saw him on it.

“Wh-wh-when?” Bill was the most curious out of the group. He would miss hitching Richie rides, but he wouldn’t miss how tight his arms seemed to wind against his chest.

“Like, yesterday.” Richie shrugged and he was the last one to park his bike. He kept riding circles around the empty Sunday street until y/n and Bev showed up. y/n didn’t have a bike and Bev always walked with her out of courtesy.

“Hey, wide ride!” Beverly called while Richie tried to pop a wheelie.

“Stop it,” y/n giggled but Richie was too lost in his own world to hear her. Eventually, he parked it; carelessly setting it down with Silver and Stan’s, Eddie’s, Ben’s, and Mike’s bike. “You got a bike?” y/n asked, coming up from behind him. Richie grinned.

“Yeah, do ya like?” y/n nodded wordlessly.

“Green’s not my color, though… Why’d you get a bike?”

“’Cause riding double is lame.” He shrugged and they entered the movie theatre together while the rest of their friends waited for them. “Anywho, how ‘bout I take you home tonight?”

“I thought you said riding double was lame,” y/n repeated his words even though she didn’t think that.

“Well—you see… What I meant was—”

“Just kidding, Tozier. Only you think riding double is lame anyway.” y/n found herself giggling while paying for her small popcorn which Richie would end up sticking his fingers into later on.

So, Richie took her home that night (and the rest of the nights the Losers met up). Her arms wrapped around his torso in the way he used to wrap his around Bill’s. At first, it felt like he couldn’t breathe, but that could’ve been because there was a pretty girl sitting behind him and he would be responsible if they got hurt.

After a while, though, he got used to it. And the arms slung around his chest were like a seatbelt. Once in awhile, y/n would rest her chin against her shoulder. And if she were tuckered out from swimming or any of the other adventures the Losers were up against that day, he would find her dozing on his back. The breeze from his ET Kuwahara ripping through the hot air felt nice and a kind of superiority swelled in Richie’s chest for being the cause of that breeze.

The same breeze swept over y/n and Richie. The group was now long gone from their eye line, but they would’ve been anyway because of the path Richie and y/n would take to get home.

Richie had been oddly silent until they reached their houses; side by side, just like how the two friends stood. y/n took it upon herself to break that silence, but his jitters were contagious.

“We’re meeting up at the quarry tomorrow.” She turned to face him as she stood on the highest step of her doorstep. He was still taller than her.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Richie tried his best to avoid her steady watch that followed him, but it was hard. He so desperately wanted to see the twinkle in her ambitious, yet caring eyes which he missed. It wasn’t looking at her that was wrong, it was his thoughts—and Richie knew that—he just couldn’t bring himself to look at her while thinking those thoughts.

“You’re coming right?” Insecurity wavered in her voice. Richie was being weird. Richie was always weird, but something was… wrong. He didn’t greet her the first day she came home. y/n eventually concluded that she was just being selfish and that Richie was probably busy that day. But now Richie was being distant. Richie was never distant.

“’Ve been thinkin’ about it. You know I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see Bev in her swimsuit—”

“Beep beep.” y/n wanted to laugh. She wanted to assume he was joking and think nothing more of it because that’s who Richie is. A jokester. Her heart couldn’t help but pang at the words and instantaneously the palms of her hands felt clammy. “Can you meet me beforehand? I thought we could go together?”

“Together?” Richie’s voice cracked.

“Yeah, goofball.” Again, her eyes searched for his under his mess of brown hair and coke bottle glasses, but they were playing a serious game of hide-and-seek. “I mean, it only makes sense.” She thought fast. “We live next door to each other.” And Richie realized this was only an act of convenience.

“Shore, shore, senhorritaa.” Richie couldn’t find the courage in himself—only in one of his Voices and y/n smiled, suddenly remembering how often he’d do impressions when they were kids.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” y/n said curtly.

“Tomorrow,” Richie replied cooly when he was anything but. Especially when he paced his own room, the same way he did in Stan’s, when he should’ve been at her door already.

He was only wearing the swim trunks (he had since he was fifteen and hadn’t bothered to replace) that resembled the shirts he wore, and he was debating on if he should put on a shirt or leave as he is. Or leave at all. It was going to be hot today. The weather forecast predicted to be in the nineties. Richie didn’t want to show up indecent, but he also didn’t want to sweat the whole walk there.

Two—that somehow felt like ten—aggravating minutes later, Richie stood at y/n’s door wearing a yellow shirt over his dark blue, tropical swim shorts. His forefinger hovered over the doorbell for a few seconds until he finally bit the bullet and took the bait. You’re gonna do it eventually, just do it now.

It swung open excitedly, revealing his favorite girl who stood behind it. “Come in!” She said and wasted no time to lead him up to her room.

Richie took a moment to catch his breath and take in his new surroundings. Her room seemed unchanged at first and he laughed at the grey, Victorian-style wallpaper that neither y/n nor her parents had taken down yet. But the longer he stood there, the more he noticed how bare it was. The room was stripped of any decorations she once had (except for her bed and desk)—replaced by brown moving boxes. It became apparent to Richie how much time she had spent away from the group. Even though she was here with them now, she had fabricated a life outside of the Losers Club. That fact hurt him, but a sort of curiosity burned inside of him. He wanted to know the new her, but they also had to get to the quarry at a certain time.

“When do we gotta be there by?” Richie asked. He was drawn out of his daydream by his own words and noticed y/n who was turned around in front of him. She was wearing a black, ruffled bikini that complimented her skin beautifully but barely covered the parts that should.

“Two-thirty… but I don’t think they’d mind if we show up early or late.” y/n shrugged as her fingers fumbled with the bikini strings that tied the top. “Can you help me with this?” She turned to him. If Richie picked any time to finally meet her eyes, he picked the worst timing. y/n’s neck craned to the side whilst she still struggled with her top. He knew this wouldn’t end well for him.

“Why’re you asking me?” Richie feigned a chuckle but walked over to her regardless. She angled her body dangerously close to his causing Richie to bite his lip, imprisoning the sharp gasp that threatened to depart from his lips. Cautiously, his hands took the strings from her and tied them into a sloppy bow with a double knot so it wouldn’t come undone anytime soon.

“’Cause you’re here, Tozier.” He made eye contact with her. “What’s been up with you lately?”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“You’ve been distant… really distant.” y/n’s honesty made it hard for Richie to catch a break. “Do you think I haven’t noticed when you pulled away from me yesterday and…”

“And what?” Richie probed. His hands rested on either sides of his hips. He tried to hide any sign of nervousness in his voice, but it was hard to fake what you were.

“It’s stupid.” Obviously, y/n didn’t want to drop the topic of conversation. She didn’t want to coerce the boy into something either.

“Nothing you say, think, or do is stupid, y/n/n.” Richie chuckled once more though this time y/n could tell he wasn’t faking anything.

“You didn’t greet me when I first came home.” She mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t hear her. But he did. “Why was that?”

“I dunno… Bill told me something.” Richie wanted to drop a brick over his head because honestly, how stupid did he sound right now? y/n didn’t have to say anything. The skepticism in her eyes and her bottom lip between her teeth was enough to prompt him further. “He said you have a boyfriend and I just—”

“You just what?” Her words were mysterious. Richie couldn’t seem to read her anymore because the only telling expression she had was a raised eyebrow and cocked head. But that could mean anything.

“I really like you, okay? And how are you supposed to greet someone you’re in love with after not seeing them for three years when you can’t hug them or-or kiss them cos they went off and got a stinkin’ high and mighty boyfriend in New York? New York, for Christ’s sake. It was hard enough to look at you before but now—” Richie’s rambling was quickly cut off when y/n’s arms wrapped around his neck and her lips pressed against his. Her fingers tangled in the loops of his hair and his glasses pushed up against her face. “What was that for?” Richie asked, completely dumbfounded.

“Stop listening to Bill,” y/n instructed. She was amused by the boy in front of her.

“What?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She brushed a strand of hair from out of his eyes and adjusted his now crooked glasses.

“But Bill said—”

“Bill’s stupid.” Her lips met his again. The kiss was longer this time. y/n’s were soft and tasted like the artificial cherry flavoring from her chapstick she had applied prior; a contradiction to the faint scent of tangerines that clung to her bare skin and the spicy bite of peppermint on her tongue.

His wet tongue traced the inside of her mouth, lingering on the inside of her cheek. y/n bit down on the fullest part of Richie’s bottom lip tentatively, making sure not to hurt him. She could feel his smile lines against her thumb when she removed her left hand from his hair, using it to cup his cheek. y/n pulled from him abruptly, leaving Richie floored and panting.

“You don’t think the crew would care if we showed up late?” Richie asked, his eyebrows wiggling with the new burst of confidence that kiss had given him.

y/n shook her head. A grin bestowed itself upon her swollen lips. Her arms re-enveloped themselves around his figure that towered over her. Richie copied her actions. Except his hands ghosted across the back of her naked torso covered in goosebumps from the spur of the moment. They created an invisible trail to her clothed butt, cueing y/n to jump up.

She did and Richie’s large hands supported her legs that wound around his waist. “Do you wanna…?”

“Yes,” y/n whispered into his ear. At that, a shiver crawled down Richie’s spine.

It became harder for Richie to contain his excitement as he walked the two of them over to y/n’s bed. He was gentle when he set her down on the mattress covered in grey sheets and stuffed pillows. The feeling of the cotton bed sleeves cooled her hot skin although she would need an icepack to completely bring her temperature down.

Richie was on top of her. His lips tickled face that he left quick, unperceivable marks on. When she got the chance, y/n took in his appearance thoughtfully. It was evident that his unruly hair was thrown in all different directions due to y/n’s hands that were knotted in it. There was a blush on his freckled cheeks that resembled a sunburn and he wore a look. It was soft and welcoming like he was an astrologist who had just found out she was responsible for putting the stars in the sky.

But the stars were her eyes as they held the same sparkle from yesterday at the theatre.

“Have you…have you?” Richie’s eyes hesitantly raked down her half nude body from behind his glasses, still held together with adhesive tape. They couldn’t help but slide down the slope of his long nose and y/n pushed them up for him.

“No,” y/n said bashfully. She ducked her head down only for it to be lifted back up with Richie’s thumb and forefinger.

“Do you want this?” He tried not to pose the question awkwardly, but how can you make a question like that not awkward?

“Of course.” y/n’s hand, still playing with the hairs on the back of his head, guided his face towards hers. The two met in a sweet kiss for a sweet second. “As long as it’s with you.” Her tone was confident and assuring, leaving Richie with no extra questions.

“You really know how to flatter a guy, y/n/n.” Richie still marveled at the sight splayed out before him and a melodious sound filled his ears. It was her laugh, but all of his senses seemed to be amplified to the max during this moment.

Both of her hands coasted down to the hem of his stupid, banana-colored shirt that served as a barrier between the two. Her light touches made his breath catch in his throat, released in a throaty gasp, and his once loose shorts now felt strained and uncomfortable. Ignoring the occasional breaths that left Richie’s perfect mouth, y/n’s fingers tugged on the end of his shirt; a signal for him to take the damn thing off.

Instantly, his shirt was off and thrown on her floor. In his head, he thanked that her room wasn’t fully unpacked yet but another part of him thought he and y/n wouldn’t even make it to the quarry. y/n ran two fingers down his smooth chest; the tips of her fingers sent a tingling sensation throughout his being. Richie seized them once they reached his abdomen, his grasp firm but tender. Slowly, he led her fingers with his to the crotch of her bikini. The black material was soaked through. Richie smirked to himself, she’d have to change again before they left for the quarry. Or they could just not go at all.

Her own touch had elicited a moan from y/n. Her head fell back on the grey cushions, exposing her pure neck that begged to be marked. The sighs of pleasure coming from the girl beneath him while he directed her hand that was now slipping into the bottoms of her bikini felt straight from one of his fantasies. He could only hope he wasn’t dreaming, and if he were, he’d just have to remember it for another lonely night in the sheets.

y/n’s fingers danced over her clit. She inhaled sharply at the teasing feeling. Richie’s hand moved to tightly hold her wrist, the contact burned against her already hot skin. His mind was drawing a blank again; lost in the moment. Lost in her. Another moan left her mouth, her breath hit his face, and Richie imagined how she touched herself when she was away at school. Did she think about him the same way he thought about her? Did she wonder what lied behind his pants like how he had on multiple occasions?

For the time being, Richie’s questions would have to be left unanswered. He felt her hand leave her bathing suit and his hand detached itself from her wrist. A blotchy red handprint was left in its place from his harsh grip and before Richie could ask if she was okay, y/n was kicking off the at once restricting clothing. Her lower half was now completely revealed, all for him. Vulnerability, a feeling y/n had only felt on the plane ride alone to New York and on her first date with Trevor, took its rightful place in her chest that lifted and fell at a rapid speed. Her thighs instinctively rubbed together, part out of insecurity, and also to relieve herself, but Richie stopped them before they could make another move.

His right palm had settled on her left thigh, gently separating it from its counterpart while his left palm kept busy as it laid flat on her mattress and held him up. Richie’s index finger toyed with her clit, much like she had done before, and then probed her entrance. Her walls generously coated his first finger with the same nucleus that slicked her now tainted swimsuit. His middle finger entered with the same proficiency and care. Richie’s fingers were long and slender, and they did well to effortlessly curl into the spot that y/n could never seem to find on her own. Richie grunted at the sound of another pretty sound leaving y/n’s pretty lips. But this sound was different.

“Richie,” she moaned breathlessly. Richie, again, came painfully aware of the tent in his shorts. But this time was for y/n, not him.

In and out. In and out. His fingers moved at the relatively same, slow, and predictable pace that didn’t fail to evoke the dirty noises coming from y/n which might suggest otherwise. He continued these movements until her pulse picked up and a coil inside snapped.

Richie Tozier was y/n’s first orgasm.

And second, as he withdrew his hand from her, swapping his fingers for him. He stripped himself of his shorts so that the two now pressed together, even—this excluded the upper half of y/n that was still covered.

Richie hovered over the girl. The girl who moved next door at the ripe age of five, not knowing the impact she’d have on his life. The girl who crafted him and the Losers Club individual friendship bracelets that were tied around his wrist to this day. The girl who moved away too soon. The girl who’d share his first time with him. The girl he loved.

“Can I?” He asked timidly. The thumb and index finger of his right hand pinched at the black strap which prevented her top from falling down—which, ironically, was exactly what Richie wanted. y/n nodded. Her eyes were still shut from the intense euphoria she was still recovering from. First, Richie unclipped the back strap. Then, his hands moved to the thinner strap he’d tied earlier. His knees were holding him up, straddling over y/n’s waist. A wave of frustration overcame him when his fingers clumsily messed with the frocking double-knotted bow. A quiet mutter, “gotcha”, unintentionally rolled off of Richie’s tongue.

y/n giggled at his antics—not to make fun of him, but because he was cute.

The constrictive article of clothing fell from her bodice, uncovering her hardened nipples and flawless breasts.

Richie ducked his head down. Instead of meeting her lips, his mouth wrapped around the still perky bud. Licking, and sucking until breaths turned to whines and whines turned to his name.

Richie. Richie. Richie.

After giving both the same amount of attention, he kissed her. His lips brushed against hers and time felt like it had somehow stopped when y/n felt him enter her.

It was daunting at first. And Richie thumbed away a tear that raced down y/n’s cheek when she had finally taken his whole length.

“Tell me when you want me to move,” Richie murmured—his nose brushing against her cheekbone as he did so.

“Rich…Richie.”

“Yes, gorgeous?” y/n could melt at the nickname, but she didn’t; the rest of her senses too carried away in his intoxicating scent of Spice… Something… and the stimulation of him filling her.

“Can you move?” y/n asked in quiet, broken words.

Richie didn’t say anything. He just slipped out from her only to push back in. The sensation of her tight walls around him was enough to be the reason of his gasps and the resounding echoes of her name that pleasantly escaped his parted lips. His thrusts were steady and gradual—much like his fingers from earlier but… different.

y/n’s back arched into Richie’s front. Both of their pants quickened, and y/n didn’t have to ask to know what this meant.

“Richie,” y/n mewled. Richie’s pace accelerated, pulling them both to their highs. y/n’s eyes rolled back from under her heavy lids. On the other hand, the boy above her had frantically removed himself from her. She would finish on his fingers like once before and he didn’t need any more ushering to find his end.

“y/n.” The moan belonged to Richie this time, and he collapsed onto the newly soiled sheets next to the girl whose name he just spoke. “I love you.” Richie didn’t intend for the words to come out. They just did. He suspected y/n was none the wiser, still trying to catch her breath from when she came.

“What?”

Richie was wrong.

“I love you,” Richie repeated, but he hadn’t intended to say it again either. He was running on autopilot now. His eyes squeezed closed, preparing for y/n to yell at him. Why would you drop the bomb like this? To kick him out.

But she didn’t.

“I love you, too.” She wasn’t facing him, so he had to trust she meant the words. He had to trust she wasn’t actually repulsed at the thought of the guy who’d just stolen her virginity and would never talk to him afterward.

“You…you do?” Richie realized he was laying butt-naked on top of y/n’s sheets and he wouldn’t be shocked if his face were mistaken for a tomato right about now.

“Yeah.” The bed shifted under her turning weight because she was now laying on her side, facing him. Her eyes roamed his milky skin and her fingers apprehensively traced an outline on his arm. Richie didn’t think he would ever get used to her silk skin and feather fingertips. “You’re supposed to lose it to the person you love, right?”

Richie’s heart was already digging its grave. “Yeah.” He swallowed dryly. His hand found hers—the one that was inking an invisible fence on his skin—and weaved his fingers with hers. He didn’t know what else to say but he didn’t have to.

“You still wear this?” y/n was incredulous and judging by the tone of her voice, Richie figured she found the friendship bracelet he still wore. Treasured.

“It’d make me a monster to trash it.” Richie faced her now and y/n laughed whilst her pink lips grazed his knuckles.

“I still have mine.” She raised her eyebrow. Was this a challenge?

“Pish, posh, dahhling. Proof or it’s not real,” he said in his god-awful British-man Voice.

y/n let go of his hand, leaving it for the coldness to slowly eat away. She leapt off her bed and dashed to her desk. She opened one of the side drawers and fished around for a dinky little yarn bracelet that would match his, only she used red and yellow string rather than blue and green.

She skipped over to him, not caring that she was undressed or that they had to be somewhere. A braided bracelet, similar to his, dangled in front of Richie’s tired face and he smiled. Unlike Richie’s, y/n’s bracelet was in perfect condition—just like it had looked from when they were ten.

“I can make you another one,” y/n said, noticing how worn Richie’s was. It was almost falling apart.

“Nah. I like the rugged look.” Richie bared his teeth to her. It must’ve been the fifth time she laughed that day.

“Do you still wanna go?” y/n asked. She didn’t meet his gaze; too focused on slipping the bracelet over her hand. It seemed she had outgrown the thing.

“Go where?” Richie hummed and snaked his arms around her once more.

“The quarry.” His eyes widened and suddenly Richie didn’t feel tired anymore.

“Do we have to?” He whined as if he were still a child.

“I guess not.” y/n gave in; relaxing into his arms. “You can help me unpack.”

“Or…” Richie’s lips pecked her forehead.

“I guess there’s a reason why they call you Trashmouth.” y/n nuzzled into the crook of his neck. His fingers drew lazy shapes on her bare back in attempts to convince her. But y/n didn’t need convincing. Now that she found a home in his arms, she would never leave.

[formerprincess]

A tale written with fangs and claws || Chapter 58

Chapters: 58/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt Characters: Liam Dunbar, Theo Raeken, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Nolan (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Alpha Liam Dunbar, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Dunbar Pack, Bisexual Liam Dunbar, Werewolf Theo Raeken, Alpha Theo Raeken, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Mates, Liam and Theo are mates, Top Theo Raeken, Bottom Theo Raeken, Top Liam, Bottom Liam Dunbar Series: Part 1 of Morning Dew Pack

Liam has to take care of a very important matter. And there is an invitation...

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Liam immensely enjoyed working for Ellie. She was happy to show him her craft, teach him things, but she was also very easygoing, and as long as she saw him trying, she loved him and was thrilled with his performance. Also, Ellie knew about the supernatural, so she completely understood when he looked at his phone after it chimed with a text, just in case his pack needed him. Not that anything had come up in the few weeks since Liam started working for her, but he liked to have this option. He didn't have to hide anything, and Liam realized how much better he felt with that.

When work was slow, they talked about a lot of things and Ellie taught Liam some things about supernatural creatures. She had laughed loudly at the story about the fairies in their garden and proceeded to elucidate the different variations of fairies and elves. There were plant fairies, water fairies, sun fairies, and almost that many elves classes. Just like there were different weres out there. Liam felt kind of silly he didn't know about any of this and one day voiced his thoughts. Was he simply ignorant or just blind?

"Neither. You're from a town where none of those things exist. Don't blame yourself for that", Carlie said. Carlie was one of Ellie's three best friends, the other two being Libby and Simone. All three were at Ellie's age and the friends had a weekly meeting at the shop where they sat together, talked about their lives, drank tea or coffee, and ate cookies. Carlie herself was a petite woman with short spiky hair and big square glasses. From what they had told Liam upon first meeting, they all were elves but Liam secretly suspected Carlie of being a pixie. She was cheeky, witty, always said what was on her mind, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. Needless to say, Liam liked her. "Yeah, but I also feel like I should know more." "You know enough. About Onis and Berserkers and Kitsunes and hell and other terrible things. You're twenty. Most guys your age know how to party and wear their base caps the wrong way." She bit into a cookie. Liam laughed. "My boyfriend likes to wear his caps the wrong way. He looks hot with it. But he also knows other things." "You have so much time to learn still. Don't worry. Even we old ladies don't know about any supernatural being out there", Simone comforted him and filled her cup with some more tea. She was the opposite of Carlie; tall, thin, and the quietest of the bunch. "I also agree with Carlie, you know about terrible things, traumatic things, things one should not know about. Especially not this early in life. But unfortunately, trauma is also experience. " Liam made a face. He sat down on the armrest of one of the chairs Ellie had placed around. "I just could have lived without some of those experiences. I mean, I could have gone without the experience of being homeless but hey. Maybe that's just me." Ellie put her arm over the backrest of her chair and turned to look at Liam. "When have you been homeless?" They talked about a lot of stuff but Liam's life story, she only knew parts of it. Good parts. He didn't want to deliver sob story after sob story. Liam had a good life, he knew some people had it worse. He cherished that. Now he exhaled loudly through his nose and then he told the four women how the hyenas came into town and caused havoc, how they finally destroyed the house and left the pack picking up the pieces. He ended with the move to the new house.

After he finished, his listeners were shocked. "You experienced all this and you still find it in yourself to be such a happy and polite young man?" Libby asked in awe. She was usually full of life and laughed loudly, her afro curls always bouncing around her round face, but now she was stunned. Liam shrugged. "What's the option? Turning bitter? It worked out in the end. Doesn't mean I will ever forgive them for what they did but no one died, at least." "You are a terrific young man, Liam", Ellie praised. He smiled softly. "Thank you."

The store door opened and Angela, Ellie's oldest daughter, stepped into the shop. She was a lawyer and used her breaks to visit sometimes. She greeted everyone happily and hugged her mother. Liam ran to get her a fresh cup and dragged another seat to their circle so he should sit and interact with the group. She squeezed his arm in a silent thank you as she sat down and accepted the cup. "What were you guys talking about? Is everything okay?" She asked good-heartedly. "Liam just told us about those horrible, horrible hyenas who destroyed his house" Libby filled her in. Angela raised both eyebrows. "I hope none of you were harmed." "Everybodys fine. We managed to get out in time before the house exploded. I'm just grateful I got my brother out of town before it happened." "Oh, you have a brother? I didn't know that." Angela loved kids and had specialized in family rights. She claimed she liked to help kids get justice. "Hm." Liam nodded. He walked to the cash register where he left his phone and while he walked back searched through his pictures. "Landon. He's almost ten." She showed her and the rest of the women the picture and they all cooed how much alike the brothers looked. "You said you brought his out of town? So I take he's usually living with you? Your parents must appreciate such a tight brother's bond." Angela was surprised but happy. Liam hesitated. "Landon's not my mother's son. We're half brothers. Same dad. Well, father. Sperm donor. My biological father is...he's a piece of shit. Alcoholic. Abuser. You get it. I didn't even know Landon existed until we met months ago by a pure coincidence. The circumstances don't matter but in the end, Theo and I took him home with us. Not a chance I would have let him stay with that man. So he lived with us in the house. Until I brought him to the lake to keep him safe. He lives there now." Liam missed Landon terribly but they were all still so young, they could not care for a child properly. Byron and Lana were perfect for that task and Landon also liked them. He blinked. "But enough of sad stories. Let's talk about something different, okay?"

****** He was cleaning up after Ellie's friends had left. After he had basically pleaded for a change of topic, the talk had revolved around lighter topics and ended on a very funny note. Now Ellie was in the back, doing some accounting, and Liam manned the front of the store. Angela was the only one still there. Now she stepped to the cash register where Liam was currently filling some jars with bagged candy. "I'm going to tell you something, not as a friend but as a lawyer, okay? And I need you to listen." She looked serious and Liam tensed. What happened? "Did I do something wrong? Is your mother mad at me?" "No. But listen." She tapped both index fingers on the counter. "You need your biological father to sign his rights over to you as fast as possible. What you said about him, having him in Landon's and your life is dangerous and not good for either of you. So you need to act fast. Have him make you Landon's legal guardian." Liam frowned. "I planned on doing so once I turned twenty-one. I wasn't aware I can do it now. Thought I had to be twenty-one." Angela shook her head strictly. "No. You need to do it now. In most states, anyone who is eighteen years old can become a guardian. Look, who tells you your father agrees to it in a year? He still holds guardianship and can make decisions for your brother. If he does not sign over his rights, he has so much time to cause harm. You said Landon's almost ten. That means another eight years of having the right to decide about medical procedures, school enrollment, the living situation. Even if Landon stays with you, all it takes is somebody checking who is the legal guardian for Landon. Could be school, could be a doctor's office, or if he gets in trouble it could be the police. If he's in the hospital. For eight years, you have to always fear for this to happen. If your father does not sign his rights over." "If he does not do it on his own, I will take him to court." Angela shook her head even more firm this time. "Honestly? They will ask you where Landon lived for the past year. Legally, what you and Theo did was kidnapping. If you manage to get a strict judge, that alone will cause you to lose the case. Landon will get sent back to his father and you're probably not even allowed to see him. I told you, I'm not telling you this as a friend. As your friend, I understand why you did it, as a lawyer I have to inform you about this likely possibility. The only chance you have is to have your father make you his guardian." It was a hard pill to swallow and Liam gulped. He had been naive, he realized now, and considered it all easier than it was. And maybe Landon had to pay the price for his neglect. "Thank you, Angela", he mumbled sadly.

****** Liam sat in his car and watched the house across the street. The sun was beating down and these barren landscapes made the air even drier. The dusty roads stirred up sand whenever a car raced by. Bleak. He cast a look at the passenger seat. All documents he needed were laying there, including a pen. Now all that Liam was left to do, was get out of the car, walk up to the door, and get a signature. Angela's stern talk from days ago had left Liam rallied. Once he was home, he had told Theo about everything and the couple had to admit them taking Landon out of the house had been a stupid move from the legal point of view. They had emotions get the better of them and now this potentially harmful situation had arisen. Theo had supported Liam in whatever was needed to ensure he would become Landon's guardian but the Beta was also not a lawyer and as much at loss as Liam.

Thank god for Angela. She had helped Liam set up the documents Emmet had to sign and those documents Liam grabbed now when he exited the car. Theo was not with him, his boyfriend didn't even know Liam was here. Nobody knew. This, Liam felt, was something he had to don his own. Maybe to find a deserving ending. Maybe to test his control. Or maybe this was stupid but then again, Liam could proudly admit he was doing stupid crap now and then. Stiles, according to his own claim, could show Liam a list.

He let out a shaky breath when he walked through the unkempt front lawn. Some new beer bottles and cans had gathered around the chair. Emmet was not there but Liam heard his heartbeat through the ajar window. You're not going to kill him, Liam. He does not deserve you getting your hands dirty. Liam knocked at the door. Inside the house, he heard some bottles falling and Emmet's slurred voice mumbling.  Then scuffling steps and the door opened. And the young Alpha had to gasp and take a step back. "God, you stink!" The stench of booze, beer, and sweat made him almost gag. Disgusting, his man. "You. What do you want?" Emmet slurred angrily and grabbed the door for support. Liam turned his head away and took a few breaths. He willed his nausea down and turned to face his father. "How long have you been drinking, alkie?" "What do you care? Why are you even here? I don't want you." "Trust me, I don't want you either. But I need something from you and that means I have to come here. I would rather be somewhere else, believe that." "What? Want money for the little gremlin? I'm not giving you a dime." Emmet swayed on his feet. "I don't need your money. Go inside, before you fall flat on your face. I'm not catching you." Liam pointed inside the house. His father made a step towards him. "I should beat the crap out of you for talking to me like that and not stop til you're whimpering. Do you know who I am?" "A sorry excuse for a worm." Liam pushed his biological father by the shoulder and he stumbled back. As drunk as he was, he didn't stand a chance against an Alpha.

Emmet was taken by surprise but managed to catch himself at the table. He spewed a few curse words in Liam's direction before he shuffled around and fell on one of the chairs with the grace of a sack filled with potatoes. Liam closed the door and followed inside. His nose twitched and he wanted to retch at the smell and how dirty everything was but he kept himself from it last minute. This was not for him, this was for Landon. "How's your mother? Still wailing about how horrible I am? The slut should be lucky an honest man wanted her." "My mother is neither a slut nor are you an honest man. Don't mention her or I break your nose." Liam felt his anger building up. This was a test for his control and he might fail it. "Piss off! She's the reason you're such a weak bastard. Wonder what happened with the other one. He's just as weak. Cried whenever I hit him. Begged me to stop. Just like you. Oh, I remember you. Your mother screamed and cried when the ambulance came. I would have left you on the ground. Would have taught you a lesson." "I didn't need a lesson, I needed a father who loved me!" Liam slammed the papers on the table. "Here! Sign this!"

Emmet grabbed it after a few tries and dragged it over the table. He narrowed his eyes at the print. "What should I sign?" "Those are the papers for you to make me Landon's legal guardian. Sign and we're out of your hair forever." Liam balled his hands and felt his fingertips itch. His claws wanted to come out, his wolf furious at the man in front of him. Years of pent-up rage welled up and dared to spill over. He could kill Emmet and probably nobody would shed a tear. Laughter disrupted his thoughts. Emmet had left the papers on the table and laughed. It boomed in Liam's ears. His blood rushed through his veins. This man was mocking him. "If you really think I'm signing this crap, you're mistaken. Know why? Because you bastard want me to and you get nothing from me!" Emmet was still laughing but decided to underline his words by spitting in Liam's direction. It landed on the carpet between them. His claws almost broke through and he was ready to lunge but a voice in his head stopped him. No. Not like this. Not him. Maybe it was his wolf who was even stronger than Liam's human side burdened with IED but it was enough to make Liam pause. If you kill him, you'll never become Landon's guardian. Keep the little one safe.

Liam exhaled loudly through his nose and closed his eyes for a second. If even the animal inside him knew better, he would follow. Had to follow. All for his little brother. Landon didn't deserve a murderer for a hero. He opened his eyes and stared at Emmet. Suddenly Liam was seven again, cowering at the floor while his father screamed at him and walked closer and closer. He had put his arms up back then, in a feeble attempt to shield his body from the hits, and pleaded for the man to stop. Fear. Panic. Pain. But this time Liam didn't feel panicked. He was not afraid of this drunkard calling himself a father. Instead, Liam felt disgust and maybe even pity. This guy had nothing to live for. It gave the young Alpha a strange sense of calm. Out of the two of them, Liam was the better man. The better person. IED or not. The condition didn't rule him as much as it ruled his father, and Liam had quite a lot more on his plate.

He sat at the opposite of the table and took the pen in his hands. "And why wouldn't you? What's in it for you? Just to be petty? Just to put one over on me?" Emmet snickered. "It will bug you forever, that's good enough for me." He reached for a bottle of booze and uncorked it to take a swig. Liam glared at him. Then he put the pen down. His glance landed on his bracelet. The bracelet he shared with Theo. Suddenly, he got an idea. Maybe it was time to see if he could take a book out of Theo's playbook. He raised his head and crossed his arms on top of the table. "Okay, fine, don't sign. We will play your game. I will send Landon back to live here." Emmet eyed him. "You're bluffing." "Not at all. He will come and live with you again. But be aware. I will be around every damn day." "And then what? What will you do? Punch me? You're no match for me", Emmet sneered. "If you lay so much as one finger on him, and we both know you will, I will call the cops on you. They will come and they will arrest you for domestic violence. And yes, Landon may be sent to foster care but I will make sure you will be sent to prison. There is no booze, no beer, no schnapps in prison. But the people there love people who abused kids. I know people and I will make sure every inmate knows what you did to two little boys. That's what will be awaiting you. No freedom to get wasted like you're doing now every day. Think about it." His biological father still eyed him suspiciously. "No way you would ever let him live here again." "To get you locked up, I would do other things. Landon too, by the way. All to make sure you will rot in hell. He's tough, he will take whatever you might to do him. Maybe I will move in as well. One happy family. With me comes my boyfriend, obviously. By the way, how's your hand?" He looked at Emmet's fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Father and son stared at each other, accessed each other until Emmet snorted. "Your mother raised you better than this. I call bluff. You don't have it in you, weak shit!" A cold, dangerous smile appeared on Liam's face and he leaned closer. "You call my mom a slut and other horrible names, yet you forget I also inherited DNA from you. We both have IED. Wanna find out how much more alike we are? If I'm as cruel as you are?" He gave his father a death glare. "You want to start a war? I'll raise you World War III. Your choice. Either don't sign and feel the whiplash or sign and you will never have to see us again." Liam placed the pen on the papers and waited. His heart was thundering inside his chest. That was not his usual way to carry on negotiations and he had no idea if it worked. Theo made it always seem so easy and pulled it off without a hitch. But Liam knew he was not that good. Emmet grabbed the pen and fiddled with it. He scribbled his signature at the marked fields, an unruly chicken scratch but his signature nonetheless. "Get the hell out of here. If I see you on my front lawn again, I will shoot you." Liam's hand shot towards and he pulled the documents towards himself after the last signature was done. "I have better people to be around than you. Give your liver a break once in a while." He got up just in time as Emmet's hand shot towards his throat. The alcoholic missed by far and his hand thumped on the table. "Fuck off, you piss baby!" The sound of the splintering bottle hitting the wall was the last thing Liam heard from his father when he now left the house without so much of a goodbye.

It only dawned on him what just had transpired when he was in his car and already on the road. Liam stopped at a red light and breathed a sigh of relief. "Holy shit!" He had faced Emmet Dunbar, that one man he hated with a burning passion, the one who had made his childhood horrible and hurt Liam, Ilona, and Landon so much. Against what he had wanted to do to him, Emmet had left the meeting completely without a cut, Liam was incredibly proud of himself. Even though now, that everything settled, his hands shook and his heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his body. That had the potential to go so, so wrong and yet Liam stood tall. He glanced at the papers safely sitting on the passenger seat. Not only had it worked out without Liam losing his temper, but it had also really worked and he was Landon's guardian. The threat of Emmet interfering with their lives and taking Landon away again was erased. Liam wanted to cry.

His phone chimed and Liam almost hit another car. "Jesus Christ!" He accepted the call over the speaker. "Hey, Theo." "Hey. Say, just out of curiosity, where the hell are you? Nobody knows where you left. It's not like you to disappear like that. What's going on." Liam bit his lip. "I was at Emmet's." "Emmet? Emmet Dunbar? Your father? What the fuck! Is he still alive?" "Shh, let me explain. I told you about what Angela said and I went to get his signature. Yes, he's still alive, I didn't touch him. Even though I wanted to." He heard Theo closing a door and birds singing in the background. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have accompanied you." Yeah, good question. Liam didn't know for sure. "I guess...I needed to burn this bridge alone? Prove to myself I can stay calm around him. I'm not like him in any capacity and while I know you and I absolutely adore you for always being there for me, this was something I had to do alone. You understand? Maybe for my own peace of mind, I dunno." Theo was silent for a few moments. "Yeah, I understand", he finally confessed. "Did it work, at least?" A smile broke out on Liam's face. "Yep. Have all the signatures I need. Thanks to you as well." "Thanks to me? What did I do?" "Well, let's say you're a good teacher, even if you don't want to be one. I'll tell you everything once I get home, okay?" Theo laughed. "Okay. Love you." "Love you too."

****** Landon's face appeared on the screen in front of Liam and as soon as he had a picture, the child waved animatedly. "Hello, Liam!" Videocalls were a good way to keep in contact even if they could not see each other in person. Liam happily waved back. "Hey, Landon, how are you?" "I'm good. Zack and I built a fort." Landon launched himself into a story of all the things his best friend and he had done. Lana and Byron appeared in the background of the call but they simply waved and let the boy talk. Liam put his chin in the palm of his hand and listened with a smile. Seeing Landon so carefree and hearing about him being a normal child was all he ever wanted. It came nine years too late and Liam knew his brother must have been affected one way or another by his upcoming but now that he was out of Emmet's claws, Landon was in for an amazing life. After he was done, Landon asked about Liam's life in Seattle. Now it was the older's turn to talk about college, his pack, the fairies (Landon loved this part and he asked thousands of questions). Theo had joined Liam for a while and laughed softly. "He's like you", he whispered into his mate's ear and kissed Liam's cheek before he disappeared out of the frame again after a wave in Landon's direction. Liam chuckled but then he finished his story. "One more thing, Landon. You know we took you away from Emmet, right?" Landon shivered at the mention of his father's name but nodded bravely. "Do I have to go back? Please, don't make me go back!" "No, no, hey, I would never. That's why I'm telling you. He signed all the papers. I am your guardian now." Lana and Byron appeared left and right from Landon. "He did? Oh, how wonderful, Liam." Lana was touched. Landon scrunched his nose. "What does guardian mean?" "It means Liam is responsible for you now and Emmet can never hurt you again. Say you want to go on a class trip, for example, the school has to ask Liam and not your father anymore", Byron patiently explained to him. Landon considered. "So, he can't get me?" "Never again. He's out of your life for good", Liam promised firmly. His brother beamed at the adults. "That's amazing!" "Yeah, it is." Lana stroked through his hair. "But, Sweetie, you have to get ready for bed now. Tomorrow's a school day." "But I want to keep talking to Liam. I'm not finished." Yes, Landon could be stubborn. "We can talk tomorrow, Laddie. After school, yeah? Now you have to get ready for bed. Sleep is important. I'm going to bed now too. Theo does too. See?" He rolled to the side and tilted his screen so Landon could see Theo brushing his teeth with the bathroom door open. Theo waved. It wasn't that he actually wanted to go to bed but he had tried some licorice Mike had brought home, not from Ellie though, and after eating it Theo claimed to have a bad taste in his mouth. Landon huffed. "But we talk tomorrow", he insisted. "Werewolf promise." Liam raised his hand solemnly to swear. "Good Night, Laddie." "Good Night, Liam. Good Night, Theo." Landon stood up. "Good Night, you two," Lana called out and then disappeared with Landon.

Byron sat on the desk chair. "I know he signed but did the meaning with your father go well?" "It did. As well as possible with this man. I was pretty surprised at my control. At a certain point, I was ready to snap but somehow my wolf made me pull back and I got more level-headed." "That's the Alpha in you. Even if our personality or our urges say otherwise, sometimes the Alpha part can balance it out to keep the peace. It is impressive how well you learned to work with your wolf." The praise was nice because Liam tried. Sometimes it felt like all he did was running in circles but then he proved to everyone (and mostly himself) he was a good person and improving. "Speaking of Alpha and peace, Liam I forwarded an email to you just now. Have a look at it, maybe Theo should do so as well."

Theo had dried his mouth and now walked over to lean on Liam's chair while Liam opened the mail Byron had forwarded. It included a word document and when Liam opened it, it turned out to be an invitation to a meeting held in a hotel in Seattle. "Liam, part of being an Alpha are pack politics." Liam whined. "I told you I'm not good at that! What is this? An Alpha congress? I can't go there." "Maybe let the man talk before you cut and run", Theo suggested and smoothly avoided the contact between Liam's elbow and his stomach by moving aside. "I know what you said, Liam, and this is no pressure but I wanted to inform you. The invitation is indeed for an Alpha meeting. No congress, just a few Alphas coming together and talking." "About what?" Liam saw himself on a stage, in front of hundreds of Alphas, a whole auditorium filled with them, and making a fool out of himself. People would laugh. It would be a degrading experience. "Life. This and that. No one is expecting a speech from you, Liam. See I've been to a few of those meetings. There are only packs living close by attending these meetings. They're mostly boring. You stand around, do some small talk, maybe eat a quick snack, and leave. But they can also help you get a better idea of which packs are around yours. In the area. It can be interesting, if only so for scouting. But, of course, that does not mean you have to attend. It's no declaration of war not to go there. Just like you cannot declare war by saying a wrong word if you go." "Those are all Alphas, experienced Alphas probably, and then I show up. Junior McJunington. What will they think?" "Screw what they think. So what if they're older or more experienced? You're you and that's awesome" Theo passionately declared. "Thank you, Dr. Seuss", Liam hissed. He frowned and scratched his cheek. "I have to think about this." "As it is your right. Don't do anything you're not comfortable with." "If I should attend, there will be no problem? I can just show up there?" "The invitation is addressed to the Alpha of the Morning Dew Pack. They seemingly didn't get the memo about the change in our pack but that doesn't matter. The invitation is for you, not for me. Actually, no Beta can attend the meeting. And no Alpha mate either unless they're specifically invited." "I have to go there alone??" Liam shrieked. In his mind, he had Theo by his side. Maybe Brett and Caden since both could be real charmers and have intellectual conversations. Corey would have also a good match despite him being as insecure as Liam in those settings. Byron rubbed his hands together. "Those are the rules. But I know, alone or not, you will be just fine. Should you go or not. This is not something I can do for you. The decision is all yours. Just one more thing, to be fair. you will be the youngest in this group. By a few decades, I suppose. That's why I don't think they will pay you much attention. They're just curious." "Great", Liam said sarcastically. "Given my track records with strange Alphas so far, this will be a marvelous experience."

****** "I don't think you should go. What if that's a trap?" Tim worried about Liam's safety. Liam had informed his pack about the invitation right the next day and after classes, they were sitting in the living room and discussing this. "I think he should go. Just to check the others out. Maybe he can make allies?" Brett opposed. "I also think Liam should go. Byron said he has been to a few of those meetings. I don't think it's a trap", Sadie tried to dissolve Tim's worry and he gave her a grateful look. "The two strange Alphas I met in the last year have both tried to kill me. You understand I'm not keen on walking in a room full of unfamiliar Alphas?" Liam questioned. "I think that should be the reason you go", Ever stated, "to show all of them you're not afraid. If they plan on messing with you, you will look them in the eye. Maybe then they won't underestimate you." "I just don't see the purpose of those meetings. From what Byron said it sounds pretentious." Corey looked peeved. "Oh, it is", Lori confirmed. "But they are not that rare. I don't think you have to be scared, Liam." She offered a genuine smile. Liem returned it cause he knew she was trying to make him feel better. "What do you mean by not rare?" "Well, they're not, if you have Alphas of the old school" Brett took over from his sister. "Modern Alphas just meet up, talk, like Scott with Satomi. They don't even call it an Alpha meeting and send out fancy invites. Those are practices of the old guard, mostly well-esteemed werewolves who love to use those meetings to gossip. Ever seen those movies with scenes in Gentlemen Clubs? Country Clubs? Those are the people to expect at those meetings. Byron's not that far off when he says they won't spare you a look. You're - and don't take this the wrong way - not their type of person, if you know what I mean." "The Alpha from my parents' pack also attends such meetings. They always gush about the delicious and expensive things they eat there. But this woman also has a rich husband and considers herself playing tennis and golf as labor. So, pretty much pompous, entitled snobs", Sadie said. Maya rolled her eyes. "I also know about those meetings but I'm so glad I never met an Alpha going there before. Eh, no offense, Liam." Liam groaned. "Okay, just the danger of becoming the new hot gossip for the elite wolves around. Yeah, I think I'll pass." "I would still go", Caden chimed in. "It's a good opportunity to get to know how many are around. Do you know that? They invited Byron so their radius must be quite large but how many packs live between Seattle and the lake? Wouldn't it be good to know in case we need help? What if the hyenas come back? Having some werewolf allies would not be that bad."

He had a point. They all did. Liam was still torn. For once because he was afraid of making a fool of himself, then for the reason not to offend another Alpha and start a war, and on top of it, he now came to the realization just how different those Alphas seemed to be. He looked at his boyfriend. "What do you say?" Theo had listened to everything and had made up his mind. "You should go. For all those reasons. Byron said there will not come anything bad from it. He would never let you go to any event if he feared something might happen to you. If he says you can go, I believe him. And yeah, it is a good way to get information. Maybe there are not that many packs around.  But you will only find out if you go." Since most of his Betas said he should go, he considered. Maybe it was a good idea indeed. Only one problem: "If it's that high class, what should I wear?"

Fifteen minutes later Liam regretted that question. He stood in his bedroom while Theo, Brett, Mason, and Sadie sat on his bed. Sadie throned between the other guys, one leg crossed over the other, and looked like she was having the time of her life. Liam was the poor victim and had to model several outfits for the self-proclaimed fashion experts of his pack (he knew Theo could dress good but at this point, Liam felt betrayed) who all had other ideas of the perfect outfit. "That dress shirt is perfect for you. Not too out there but also not too normal" Mason praised Liam's current outfit consisting of black pants and a dark grey dress shirt. Liam hated it. It was not even one of his shirts but one of Theo's Mason had just grabbed. His boyfriend had not protested (see, there was the betrayal) but now shook his head. "That's not the outfit to go." "Absolutely right. Liam, grab the one I hung there." Sadie pointed at the clothes and Liam grumbled but grabbed them and stalked into the bathroom. When he emerged again, he was wearing jeans, a blue slipover with a white button-down shirt underneath. Liam felt like he was a kindergartener dressed by mommy. "Now you look like back in Devenford. Then again, maybe this private school flair is exactly what you need", Brett snickered. Liam glared at him and Theo scoffed before he handed Liam the third outfit. Liam glared at him too for good measure and disappeared into the bathroom again.

The outfit Theo had picked for him, Liam didn't even know where he got it. He had never seen Theo wearing this particular combo. Cloth trousers, a polo shirt and a sports jacket over it. "How the hell do you get this? And why do you get this?" He asked once he emerged from the bathroom.   Interesting, Theo became a bit sheepishly. "I got it for some occasions? Maybe a job interview?" "This is so not you." Liam eyed himself in the mirror. "This is so not me either. What were you thinking, guys? None of your outfits were good." "You wanted us to help you", Mason defended himself. "I wanted to get suggestions, not become your dress-up doll", Liam replied sharply. Sadie sighed. "You're being difficult. Don't you want to make a good first impression?" "A good impression as himself, shouldn't that be the goal?" Caden had walked into the room and crossed the arms in front of his chest. He looked at Liam. "You look strange. Actually, you look like me whenever my aunt visited the family. Horrible." "How do you look when your aunt visits?" Brett had to know. Caden pulled out his cellphone and searched a bit before he handed the phone over. Brett snickered. "Okay, thanks for the laugh. So dapper, oh my. One would not think that since you're almost only ever wearing more casual clothing." Sadie giggled. "Does Ever know you can look like that?" "As a matter of fact, yeah. She doesn't like it. I can relate. But my aunt is quite old-fashioned and conservative. She came to town, we dressed like that, covered up our tattoos, the whole shebang. We just never liked it. Liam doesn't like dressing up either." "Tell me about it. That's a topic we have had since we're friends." Mason rolled his eyes. Liam wanted to glare at him but if he was honest, his best friend was right.   So he raised his shoulders. "I have dress shirts. I just happen to like t-shirts and jeans more." "Hence why I think you should wear that", Caden stated. "You are not like the type of Alpha who wears expensive clothing and the latest brands. You're Liam. We like Liam. Why do you want to be somebody you're not? Just to impress people you probably will never see again after that one time?" "That's true." Even Theo had to admit that. "I know when you're comfortable and you never are when you dressed up to a certain extend." "I still think if the occasion calls for it, you should make an effort", Sadie insisted. "It's not about what you want; it's about what our Alpha wants. Liam goes to the meeting and Liam has to represent himself and our pack. He should do it as his truest self possible", Brett retaliated. She pouted.

But then she got up from the bed and walked towards Liam's open closet. She dug around there for a while before she pulled out a pale blue t-shirt. It was a new one, Liam had only worn it twice and he loved how soft the fabric was, it felt good and comfy on his skin. Sadie handed it to him. "The color makes your eyes pop. That and that one light blue jeans you have. If you walk into a room full of strange werewolves, bright colors make you look friendlier." "That's Sadie. If you can't dress them up the way you want, at least get into chromatics", Brett praised.

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Quite a Liam-centric chapter but then again he's the Alpha and Landon's brother. And he had to make decisions. Now the question is, what will happen at the meeting? What do you guys think? All I can say is, I'm excited about the new chapter.

[mrdragonageherself]

The first time it happened it totally caught him by surprise.

Seeing her.

He didn’t want to leave the house, he wasn’t ready to be seen - to be known. But the booze had run dry and the fridge was empty and he knew he needed to at least have… Something. He didn’t feel like eating but he didn’t want to get his stomach pumped and have to face Steel.

So he put on his ugliest hoody, pulled his hood up, put on dark sunglasses and went out.

At first it was just a smell, that honey jasmine shampoo she used - just a waft - was enough to snap his head up, have him looking around. And he saw her, a glimpse of her dark brown hair as she turned the corner ahead into the sunlight. His chest broke open, set his heart alight, exposed like a raw nerve.

“Corinne!”

He couldn’t stay still, couldn’t risk losing her. No. Not again. She couldn’t slip away. Not like - not like.

He was running before he realised he was even moving, around the corner in a flash but she was gone.

He looked all around, grabbing a nearby woman with brown hair to check her face, but no she was not even similar - her hair long and straight, her nose was all wrong, her eyes a dark brown - and he spun in circles looking. 

He saw her. He saw her! She was just there! Where could she have gone? But she wasn’t there. There was no one and the passers by looked increasingly concerned - afraid. Where was she?

She was just here. She was just in his arms. He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want her to hurt herself but - but she got away from him anyways. And she - She slipped away, she fell. She jumped?

But she had just been there. He had seen her!

He felt his throat closing up, the sun felt too bright, everyone was staring. Looking at him like he was unhinged, the woman he grabbed cowering away from him like he would hurt her.

No. He’s not a villain. He’s not…

“I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out of clenched teeth. “I thought you were someone else.” 

Not her. Not her this time.

It didn’t stop him from hitting the liquor store, trembling the entire way.

The next time it happened felt natural, like she was never gone. 

She was standing in the stoop next to a cafe, leaning against the wall ankles crossed the way she always did, her smile crooked as usual as she smirked at something someone said to her, holding her cigarette between two fingers lazily as usual - it might drop. 

She always managed to drop her cigarette if she got caught up talking. ‘Oh shit!’  and she’d laugh and pick it up, pretend to brush it off, take a long hard pull to keep it lit and he’d watch how her cheeks would hollow as she pulled, the way she puckered her lips. 

Ice shot through his veins. Lightning struck. She was so close. She was here! Tears spilled before he felt the urge to cry. The desperation.

Please .

He grabbed her by the elbow.

“Cori -!” The woman - not Corinne - turned to face him and the spell was broken. Not Corinne. No, this woman’s eyes were heavy lidded and a dull blue. Not Corinne. Not her eyes that lit up like molten gold when the sun hit them, the flecks of sea glass green only noticeable when you got close. No, this muted blue absorbed the sun. Not Corinne. This woman was in a mini skirt, legs exposed to the sun - Corinne never showed her legs. No, how could he be so stupid.

Disappointment hit like a tonne of bricks, a bowling ball in his stomach weighing his whole body down. The adrenaline spike leaving his body a wasted husk.

“I - I’m so sorry, pardon me,” he felt unreal. His throat choking his words, tears falling heavily. Gently pat her arm as you go. Not Corinne. He could hear the woman’s whispers with her friends as he walked away. Wasn’t that Charge?

But it wasn’t Corinne. No, Corinne was - she was gone.

He saw her fall. He let her go. He let her slip away from him. He didn’t hold her tight. He let her come with him. Let her jump.

The trembling never stopped. Cold sweat and gnashed teeth fighting his body’s will to just give up then and there, fighting step by knee knocking step to get away from there.

Not Corinne. Not his Rinne. She was gone - he let her go.

He stumbled down the street, burning inside the whole way. There was tequila at home. Beer. He could see her in his dreams.

The worst times were the most gentle. When she didn’t disappear right away.

It wasn’t his usual haunt, Wei might find him then. Drag him back to his apartment and sober him up.

He was many things at this point in time, but one thing he could not be was sober. That was not for him. Not with Becker gone.

Ortega’s head was spinning, he was unable to keep it upright when the manager walked by and told the bar staff to cut him off. But they didn’t make him leave. So he sat at the bar, head on the dark wooden counter letting the world spin. Misery washed over him in waves, knocking him farther and farther down. The pressure was too much, the waves felt like they wouldn’t stop till he was in the dirt.

He felt movement next to him so he turned his head to see who had moved to sit next to him.

He felt his heart stop - but he was too heavy with drink to fully react.

She sat next to him. Tapping a box of her menthol smokes off the bartop, pulling one out (not the upside down, the one she turned around the second she opened a new pack, the lucky one - not that one), giving him that crooked side smile as she placed it between her teeth.

“Think they let you smoke in here?” She asked. She threw him a disparaging glance, the way she always did when he got messy. His heart felt so full. Tears spilled from his eyes though he didn’t have the strength to lift his head. He was afraid to reach for her, the second he touched her she would leave the way she always did. “You look like shit.”

He coughed out a bark of a laugh, a wet soggy sound, as the tears fell. She was swimming in his vision. The world spinning, the tears making her blurry, but it was her. Eyes just the right shade of bright hazel, skin the right pale olive, mole on her cheek, her feet not able to reach the floor from the top of the bar stool.

“Yeah.” Was all he could croak. She would come back like this. All blase. Like she was never gone.

“Didn’t take you for a wallower, old man.” She scoffed as she lit up her cigarette, regardless of whether or not she was supposed to.

“You jumped.” He explained to her, like it was news to her. God, why wouldn’t the tears stop? He just wanted to see her. Feel her warmth. Hear her voice.

“Happens.” Was all she said by way of explanation, on the exhale of her drag. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He barked out another laugh. He was so happy, his heart felt so full, so warm. He felt delirious.

“Yeah, you are.”

“You’re paying for the drinks, right? Nearly dying doesn’t do great things for your finances. Plus.” She looked him up and down, looking annoyed but there was a warmth there. She was happy to see him. “I think you’re done for the night.”

“Probably.” He had so much to say, but he couldn’t get it out. The tears wouldn’t stop coming, rolling slowly, lazily out of his eyes, soaking his sweater. She was here. She was alive.

She motioned to the bartender and had a beer off tap placed in front of her. Typical. Always happiest with the cheapest beer. Said she could taste the entitlement in craft beers. Fancy wasn’t her style.

“Gonna give me more than one word replies or are you too drunk?” She grinned at him, sharp and wicked the way she always did when she was teasing him.

“Yeah.” He hiccuped a half sob, half laugh in response and Corinne threw her head back and laughed loudly, her typical hyena cackle. An ugly laugh she called it, but there was nothing more beautiful to his ears. He found himself laughing along with her laugh through the tears.

“Why did you go?” He finally asked when the laughter faded back into sobs. He missed her. He missed her so, so much.

She looked at him sadly and opened her mouth to respond.

“Ricardo?”

Ortega’s head reactively snapped to the voice calling his name, turning to see his best friend Wei Chen, a concerned frown on his face.

Of course he’d find him.

“Who are you talking to?”

He snapped his head back to Corinne but she was gone - like she was never there, just the faint smell of menthol cigarette smoke.

A feeling of desperation clawed its way up Ortega’s throat once more, one he didn’t have the energy to stop or react to. The tears spilled out hot acid now, not warm and soft. These were thick and burning his skin.

“Where’d she go?” He whispered, as though he didn’t know. As if it wasn’t his fingers she’d slipped through. As if he wasn’t the one to lead her to her death. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to want to fight but the alcohol, the sadness weighing down his limbs prevented him and he couldn’t move, could only feel his throat close up as his head spun and his stomach lurched painfully.

Chen looked at him full of pity. He didn’t want pity. Chen couldn’t understand, he never liked Corinne and certainly never loved her. Not like Ortega loved her. Chen didn’t watch his heart put a gun in her mouth, he didn’t have to fight the love of his life to stop her from shooting herself only to slip out of his grasp at the last moment. Only to watch her plunge to her death.

“Let’s go.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command. Steel would be a better Marshall than Ortega ever was. He would’ve made the right call that day. He wouldn’t have let any more people die. Corinne would still be here. Anthema too.

“ ‘Rinne was here…” It came out as a moan as Chen pulled Ortega from his bar stool, wrapping his arm around him and carrying him out.

“Rinne was here.” He insisted through tears, unable to hold his own weight.

“I know.” Was all Wei replied, holding him gently as he took him back to his apartment to get him cleaned and sobered up.

Eventually Ortega got numb to it. She didn’t stop appearing, but he got used to it. He could live with her phantoms if it meant she never went away. That he could see her still in some form.

So when he found her in a random diner, he wasn’t too shocked. She looked different than she usually did, but that might’ve been a reflection on him. He was letting himself live again, maybe it was killing her.

But this time she didn’t disappear when she spoke to him.

She was smoking tobacco, the type you roll yourself not the pre-rolled menthol type from a carton. That was new too.

This time when she stood up to leave and he hugged her. She stayed. This time she didn’t disappear.

This time she was real.

So real it felt unreal.

She was different, angrier, sadder, older. Said she wasn’t a telepath anymore. But she was alive. He was so scared she’d disappear. He took her to see Chen under the guise of needing her advice for Angie. But really he just needed to make sure she was real. And that he hadn’t finally just snapped.

But she was there. She was real.

And when she left, went home he couldn’t stop shaking.

She was back. She was real. His heart was home.

[chb-requests]

how about leo comforting his s/o after a nightmare?

The ground shook violently beneath me before splintering open with the crack of a whip, revealing the hellish landscape awaiting underneath. The fire, the screams, it all reaches me and I feel my heart racing a hundred miles a minute. I’m falling, I’m flying, I don’t know where this is going and all I can do is scream the loudest I can. My dream fills me with emotions I cannot hold within and I find myself waking in a wild sweat that leaves me shaking.

My teary eyes pan through the darkness of my cabin. With only the torch lights gently flickering outside to illuminate the room, I sit up, still shaking and breathing like I had just lived that dream. I looked around the room to see my brothers and sisters were still sleeping soundly. Unaware of the terror I just dreamt and it made me feel all the ever lonelier. I’m about to sob when I looked out the window to see cabin nine, Leo’s cabin.

How much I’d give to feel his warm arms around me right now, I was shaking badly and having a hard time to breathe. I needed it so much that I began to cry. As I choked back my empty sobs, I saw one of the patrolling dryads pass by my cabin. She circles around the structure as respectfully as she can, her bark-like skin is much more pliable than it looks when she uses it to lean over and check every crevice. With her inspection done, she moves on to the next while I watch her in deep thought.

“I can run for it.” I whispered while tracking her movements. “I can… go there really quick, I’m sure Leo wouldn’t mind. I-I’ll bring an offering to Hephaestus so he won’t be so angry… I…”

I sounded like I was crazy! Did I want to be turned into a shrub for a whole week? Dionysus would pick elderberries off my head for his own enjoyment and I don’t even want to know what kind of insects might crawl on my branches while I’m reconstructed. I held my arms tighter, I’ll go very quickly. No one would notice a thing. I’ll be back before dawn and none of the other Hephaestus campers would realize what happened.

Packing my bags as shakily as I can, I gripped the iron nugget I had taken from arts and crafts and climbed out of my window, falling ungracefully onto the floor below. I scurried to hide behind a tree before the dryad noticed me. I was done for. I am 100% a fried nugget and I’m going to be toast for a whole week! When I was sure the dryad didn’t notice my clumsy fall, I dipped behind some of the other buildings, being sure not to touch any of them in respect to the gods. 

I was now directly across from cabin nine and all that’s left is to run across the campfire to the open window leading into the cabin. Holding my breath, I spirited as fast as I could before tripping over a rock left behind during the sing along campfire and fell face flat next to Hestia’s hearth.

I scampered as fast as I could to regain my composure and when the dryad turned around to face me, the flames suddenly grew higher. Almost like the kind hearted Hestia was shielding my view from the century old dryad, rooting for me to finish my adventure. I thanked the Goddess and ran as fast as I could to the open window of Hephaestus’ cabin. I had to be quick, I placed the iron nugget at the base of the steps to speak a low prayer in reverence to the God Hephaestus, and without any time to hesitate I jumped into the window, pulling myself up and rolling into the cabin head first.

My head lands on the hard steel floor, rewarding a groan out of my throat as I wobble back to stand. I carefully took the time to adjust to the darkness in the cabin, before sneaking my way into the bunking area to look for Leo. All the Hephaestus kids were big and burly, it was only my love who sported a thin small frame. I used this knowledge to look everywhere I could for him. But... He wasn’t here? Not sure of what to think, I headed further into the cabin and found the furnace area. It still smelled of soot and sulphur, but I saw someone laying atop a sacked makeshift bed.

My eyes began to water and I knew immediately that it was my beloved.

I ran to his sleeping form, wrapping my arms around his shoulders before letting the first of my tears stain him. Crying into the hollow of his chest, all the fear I had bottled up earlier from my dream poured into his shirt. I was making a mess but I was too far broken to care about that. He didn’t need to wake up, this was all I needed to live. Regardless however, I felt him wake to me. He made a sound of confusion, but suddenly stroked my hair with his hand.

“Y/N? What… What are you doing here?” Leo asked, still confused and trying to sit up. I released him and he immediately looked outside to see what time it was. It was still night, a total violation of the rules and I knew if he wanted to send me away... I would go.

“I had a horrible dream. There was an earthquake and the floor opened up for Tartarus, and- and-”  I was crying but he came out to stroke my tears away. Pulling my shaking body into his. I hugged him again and cried like I had been struck with grief. He kissed my hair, rubbing the back of my shoulders to calm me down, laughing about how he smelled awful compared to me.

I returned the joke pathetically in an attempt to absorb the new aura I was feeling. I was in an awful state and as soon as I took as much strength I could from him, I felt embarrassed about my midnight rendezvous. I risked his safety for a dumb nightmare, I was acting selfish and this pulled me away from him.

“I’m sorry, Leo, I should get back to my cabin. I feel so much better now.” but he came back to pull me under him.

He kissed me over and over again. I felt overwhelmed but at the same time, I sensed him taking all my insecurities away with every press of his finely crafted lips. He wasn’t going to let me go feeling like I meant nothing to him, he wanted me to know he was worried and I drank it like nectar to my wounds.

“Pollita, you’re going to stay with me tonight. So let me make the sack a little more comfortable.” He laughed, moving away and pushing together a few more crates to make the “bed” bigger.

“Why are you sleeping on this? Don’t you have a bed?” I asked brushing my swollen freshly kissed-lips, watching him craft this strange cot. He looked up to smile at me, his grin making my ears red in wonder at his incredibly crafty ways.

“I do, but my siblings snore too loudly so I sleep over here instead.” He laughed, jumping onto the new bedding and giving me the most comfortable pillow.

I laid next to him and he kissed my forehead again. It caused me to giggle but when he kissed my eyes, I felt the sting of swelling my crying had done to them. I pressed against him and he wrapped his arms around me. Asking me to tell him the dream again so he can better understand it. I did… and I no longer felt scared this time.

“If you were to fall into Tartarus, I think I would jump in after you.” He spoke nonchalantly.

“No you wouldn’t!” It sounded almost like a threat when it came out of me, but I meant it to keep him from doing anything stupid. He paused for a second, thinking more about the scenario before he looked me directly in the eyes.

“I would jump into Tartarus after you.” He wasn’t joking and I wasn’t going to dispute it this time.

I kissed his lips again and listened to all the mechanics of the smelting room we were sleeping in. His voice vibrating the hollowness of his chest, it lulled me to sleep and I cradled against him in blissful happiness. I spent all night with him like this, lost in the regale of his upcoming projects and meticular designs. But when I woke the next morning… I wasn’t myself…. LITERALLY….

I was a chipmunk and Dionysus was leaning over me with a cage in his hands. I was going to stay this way for the rest of the week, but at least he let me stay in the Hephaestus cabin for the remainder of my curse-bound sentence. I got to watch Leo smelt and work on his many projects. He talked to me nearly every second of the day and would let me sit in his bag while participating in various events.

I consider this a blessing.

[locria-writes]

Omg do you have a snippet of MCs cherry pop with lothar??

i actually do

(also the first chunk was already posted here as a different snippet, but i never posted the ending, so here’s the full thing)

For as long as he can remember, Lothar never liked other people looking at what he thought was his. It was negligible at first, for his mentor made certain to destroy anything that could be deemed his own.

Maybe that’s why he feels the need to protect and hide away his belongings – including yourself.

It was too easy to convince you to shy away from the world. It took some carefully engineered incidents to terrify you, some creative use of his magic to pretend as though there were those out to harm you, and a few words to convince you to stay at his home. From there, it only got easier and easier to persuade you to stop your visitors, then to stop all social functions, and then to simply stay within your shared quarters.

But Lothar isn’t a heartless man. It pains him to hurt you in any way, but it’s the only way to keep you safe, hidden away from all that can possibly harm you.

Even if that means hurting you himself.

To the outside world, he merely tells them you’re ill, suffering from constant fatigue and dizziness. Nobody thinks to doubt him – the perfect gentleman, the kind and well-mannered dog of the court.

“My darling, were you all right without me?” There’s a rush of relief when he sees you in your chambers, as always. He knows it’s foolish to expect you anywhere else, but the fear is still there. He still remembers the panic when you went to visit your brother and weren’t back when he was.

He thought you’d left him, just like everyone else.

You’re sitting by your vanity, brushing those lovely locks of yours, as you turn to him. Your face lights up as you rush over to him, flinging your slender arms around his waist. “My lord…”

He chuckles, running a hand through your hair. “Did you miss me, my sweet girl?”

“I did.” Your voice is muffled as you nuzzle your face into his chest. “It was scary again today.”

“My poor girl is so brave.” Lothar leans down and kisses your cheek. “I’ll make it all better.”

He picks you up, cradling you close to his chest, and sits down your shared bed, with you on his lap “You must have been so scared.”

“Not while you’re here.” Your gaze is still fractured, and it hurts him to see you like this.

It hurts him more that a part of him is thrilled to see you like this.

He smiles wanly, brushing your hair once more. “Before that, I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Mhm.” He reaches into his pocket for the small jar he bought earlier. “I heard that this is popular with the young ladies.”

You take the ornate jar, examining the floral patterns on it. “What is it?”

“Rouge.”

You take off the lid, and the aromatic fragrance of it fills the room. The colour is a rich and deep red, not the colour you normally wear. “This must have cost you a small fortune.”

“It’s nothing compared to you.” Lothar takes one of your hands – so delicate and untainted – in his gloved ones, dipping one of your fingers into the pot. “Try it on. The colour might be deep, but I think it will suit you wonderfully.”

The bashful flush that dusts your cheeks wipes away the day’s fatigue. How wonderful it would be if he could spend the rest of his life only coaxing such adorable expressions from you. Forget everything and everyone – that would be his heaven on earth.

He gently uses your finger to paint your lips with the rouge. It’s a bit too heavy for someone as fresh-faced and innocent as yourself, but it’s a good match nonetheless, at least aesthetically. He’d much rather you only wear the light and pastel colours of youth, not the dark and mature colours of the jaded.

“You look lovely, my sweet girl,” he murmurs, raising your dirtied finger to his lips. “Absolutely stunning.”

Your shy expression as he licks your finger is bliss. The trembling of your lower lip when he begins to suck on it is almost too much for him.

He really wants to push you down and take you right then and there, but he’s a man of patience. You’re the most darling girl he’ll ever know, and you deserve to be worshipped thusly.

“M-my lord…” you murmur, voice quivering ever so slightly.

He hums around the digit, dragging his tongue from the base to the tip of it, relishing the quiet whimper that escapes you. He pulls away, purposely allowing for a trail of saliva to form to see your flushed cheeks grow darker. “Nothing should ever mar your beautiful skin, my dear girl.”

“Nothing but you, my lord.” The soft smile you give him feels like it can absolve him of all his sins.

“You’re absolutely adorable.” He pushes you down onto the bed, golden eyes flashing crimson for a second. “You make me feel like both a terrible man and the most blest.”

“You’re not a bad man.” You reach up to cup his face, but he grabs your wrist, and leans down to kiss you.

It starts off soft, lips moving against each other, breaths mingling together. Lothar drags his tongue against your bottom lip, almost reverently as though he seeks permission, which he knows you’ll grant without fail. You moan when his tongue touches yours, and your free arm grabs onto his hair, lightly tugging it.

He groans into the kiss, releasing your hand to reach for something under his pillow. You heed little attention to it as the kiss grows more and more fervent. It isn’t until you feel a prick of pain that you realize he grabbed a dagger and was slowly cutting off your dress.

He breaks the kiss first, smears of rouge left on his lips as he gives you a saccharine smile. “It seems I’ve ruined your rouge.”

“It’s fine if it’s you, my lord.” Your breath hitches as he tears off your dress, thin trails of blood following his blade. “What are you doing?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful your skin is?” he whispers, dragging its tip along your stomach. “I want to keep it unblemished, but at the same time, it’s the perfect canvas.”

“I’m afraid… It hurts…”

“A love as grand as ours will always hurt.” His dagger digs into your upper thigh, your whimper of pain makes him chuckle. “How can there be love if there isn’t pain?”

“Please, my lord – “

“I understand.” He sets the blade down as he moves down to your leg. “It’s a shame for such beautiful skin to break, for such precious blood to be spilled.”

Your moan is of pain and bliss as his lips press against the cut. His tongue darts out, greedily lapping away at the blood that escapes from your wound. Your blood has always been special to him – it’s the only thing he’s ever been able to taste, and it tastes of heaven and innocence.

He wonders if it will still taste like that when he’s done with you.

Your trembling and whimpers all feed into his joy. Only he can hurt you like this, and only he can bring you such pleasure. It’s his utmost honour to be able to do so.

“My lord…! It hurts, it hurts!” He ignores your cries as his tongue digs into the cut. Your blood is just so intoxicating, so alluring…

“Please stop! Please…” You’re openly sobbing now, fingers tangled in his hands. “I can’t…it’s too painful…Lothar…”

The sound of his name leaving your sweet lips pull him out of his reverie. Lothar pulls away to see tears streaming down your face. He feels conflicted – on one hand, he wants to kiss away your tears and tell you everything will be all right, that he won’t hurt you, but on the other, he wants to hurt you. He wants to spill your blood and drink it all; he wants to wrap his hands around your dainty neck and see you struggle for breath; he wants to see your sweet face twisted in pain.

“Did it hurt?” he asks softly, licking his lips for any residual blood. “Did it scare you?”

You nod pitifully, eyes wide with fear. “That’s what I always dream of – of those shadows hurting me like that.”

“Ah, that sounds awful, my darling girl.” It’s too easy to feign a sympathetic look. He has no intentions in helping to allay the nightmares he’s so lovingly crafted.

When you’re awake, he’s there to soothe you, to play the part of the concerned lover. He’ll cradle you gently in his arms, kissing away your tears, and coaxing you to calmness with soothing nothings and by feeding you his blood, citing it as a way to keep any bad magic away from you.

When you’re asleep, he makes those dreams happen, twisting whatever pleasant ones you may have into nightmares. He longs to see you truly defiled like him, so you’ll never leave him. He longs to see the light in your eyes diminish, to see your innocence wither away by his hands so you can stand with him on equal grounds.

Lothar runs a gloved hand along your thigh. “Do you want me to make it better?”

“Please…” He loves hearing you whimper.

He smiles, lowering his head to between your legs. It’s a delicious sight, to see you already so wet for him. “You seem quite excited today, my darling. Maybe it didn’t hurt so much after all.”        

He doesn’t wait for your response, licking along your slit for your wonderful moans. It’s a shame he can’t taste for he’s certain he would love the taste of your honey. Instead, he settles for those seductive sounds you make as he pushes his tongue inside of you. Your hands are gripping his hair so tightly that it hurts, but it’s a satisfying hurt. It’s not like the pain he used to feel.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against your folds. “So wet, and just for me, darling girl.”

“Please…don’t tease….me…” You moan loudly this time as he gives you a few nips, feeling the pleasure spread throughout your body.

It only adds to his feast, luckily. He begins licking and sucking, determined not to let a single drop of you go to waste. How heavenly you must taste. “You’re…just overflowing…” He continues, ignoring the slight ache in his jaw. Your sweet moans are reward enough for him as you come for him over and over.

You’re a trembling mess by the time he pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before licking that off. The sight of you -- legs splayed out, slick with sweat and your own honey, ruined rouge, and a flushed with teary eyes brings his attention to the uncomfortable strain in his trousers.

“Are you all right?” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Was that too much?”

You shake your head, though he figures you’re lying. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“It’s…it’s not fair if only I get something…” Your eyes dart away from his, and it’s so cute he almost laughs.

“I can take care of it myself.”

“No!” You grab his arm, albeit rather weakly. “I…um…I want to help…”

He almost believes he misheard you until you reach for his trousers with a red face. “My dear rose, you needn’t do this.”

“But I want to!” You pout, and his heart melts. “We…um…we still haven’t….m-made love…”

Your sentiment is so adorable, but he shakes his head. “We just did.”

“That was just you loving me though.”

“That’s enough for me.”

“No, it isn’t.” In his lowered guard, you somehow manage to undo his trousers.

“Please, my lord, Lothar – “

That’s all it takes for him to indulge you. He tugs off his clothes hastily but loses his nerve as his length touches your entrance. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Yes, please.” Your voice is breathy as you stare up at him. “Please make love to me.”

He pushes inside you, slowly to gauge your response. You wince at first at the unfamiliarity, and your arms start to wrap around his back, but his holds your hands down instead, lacing his fingers through yours. “It hurts at first, my love. But it’ll be over soon.”

“You’re so warm.” Lothar groans once he’s fully inside, reluctant to start moving as your walls tighten around him. “So tight, so soft.”

“It…hurts a little…” You’re squeezing his hands tightly and he can see the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“It’ll hurt more if I don’t move.” He makes a few shallow thrusts, and your moans are slightly pained. “It’ll feel good later.”

You slowly nod your assent, and he slowly begins to move, getting deeper and deeper with each thrust, and your moans growing more and more pleasured.

“You feel…so good…” The words almost get caught in his throat. “I love you, my darling…. I love you so…so much…”

“I…I love you too…Lothar…”  

Somehow, that ruins him entirely. The measured pace he so painstakingly maintained is gone now, replaced by a wild and erratic one. He pulls out of you, smirking at your needy whine.

Gone now was the fear of hurting you, and now he only wishes to see you in pain.

He lets go of your hands, gripping onto your hips with bruising force as he lifts them off the bed, changing the angle so he can hit deeper inside of you.

“Does it hurt?”  

You don’t respond, instead, crying out as he re-enters you.  

“You’re…a lewd girl…aren’t you?” He pounds into you with such fervour that it almost seems angry. “The sweet…innocent girl…likes being fucked like this…”

Your arms wrap around his back, fingernails digging painfully into his back, but it feels so wonderful with your lovely sounds.

He doesn’t know how many times you come until he does. He almost forgets to pull out, and it isn’t until he feels himself over the edge. He spills himself over your stomach, and that snaps him out of his

It was close – too close. He just got you, how could he possibly lose you?

“Lothar…”  

“What is it, my darling?” He wraps his arms around, careful not to touch the cuts from before.

“Do you really love me?”

What a silly question. “Of course, I do.” He kisses your sweaty forehead. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

Your eyes tell him you don’t believe him, but before he can question you further, you snuggle up against him. Your breathing becomes even, and you’ve fallen asleep.

Lothar sits there, stroking your hair absently. If you’re questioning him like this, you must know something.

Whatever it is, he’ll destroy it and remove it from your memory. You should only remember the good things that he does, and the evil things of the world.

You should only remember that you are his, and he is yours.

The rest of the world can burn for all he cares.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 8- Discovery

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2780

Warnings: None!

7- Obedience

...

Artemis had learned that although snow is beautiful, it can turn into deadly sheets of ice when the temperature dropped low enough. She came to realize that the hard way, slipping along the streets of the city when completing her tasks. She had even fallen once, the sharp jagged edges of the ice cutting a gash above her brow.

It was superficial, but it had bled, much to her annoyance. When she had returned to the cabin with blood leaking down to her chin, Ivar didn't hesitate in laughing, mocking her for being weak. How could one who was born among hot plains become accustomed to an icy hell?

Winter appropriate boots were issued, a tiny delight in an otherwise tasteless life. They were surprisingly of high quality, the interior made of rabbit fur that kept her feet especially warm. Accroding to Ivar, it was no act of kindness. He would just tire of seeing his slave bruised up and bloody from her clumsiness.

More days passed, but the winter seemed endless. Artemis grew accustomed to her new life, though she was still struggling to accept it. In the early days she'd often cry herself to sleep, feeling an overwhelming loneliness suffocate her. Now, her emotions were blurred, and she began to view the world with apathetic eyes.

Sometimes, when she stared off past Kattegat's harbor, she'd imagine herself drifting away on a tiny boat. Her ancestors were masters of the sea, why wouldn't she be able to find her way back home? But it was just a fleeting thought.

She pushed herself to assimilate as Helga had often suggested, acquaintancing herself with other thralls and finding herself with Aria for company. The Irish girl was quite the character and would be considered a woman of loose morals in Christian lands. But she was kind, and had the skills of a homemaker, teaching Artemis mending techniques whenever she had the chance.

So far, life in Kattegat was extremely bland, cold, and uneventful.

The welts on her back healed quickly, scarring minimally with the help of the healer's salve. She supposed she had Ivar to thank for that, though she'd hate to admit it.

Whenever she thought of Ivar, she'd compared him to winter itself. His demenor was frigid, just like icy winds the seeped through the cabin at night. She had no idea what to think of him anymore. Sometimes she feared him, as most did, and other times she felt bad for him, watching him disappear into the mountains to grieve his losses.

Sometimes, she followed him, only to hear his gut wrenching sobs. In normal circumstances, she would've sympathized, but he was far too complex to simply understand his behavior. There were many instances in which he decides to ignore her, while on others he couldn't stop running his mouth, glancing at her with the curious eyes of a child, as if trying to work a puzzle.

That particular night had his curious eyes locked elsewhere, on something of extreme value. Artemis watched Ivar analyze a golden chalice, his ocean eyes admiring the craftsmanship and details of its design.

"What have I done to offend you this time, hmm? If your eyes could, they would kill me," She hadn't realized she was glaring as it was second nature to her now. She was always glaring.

Looking away from his eyes shining in the candle light, she continues to mend his breeches that had laid forgotten on her lap. Ivar was constantly destroying his clothing from dragging his body everywhere, and now she was constantly mending them, a tedious task that she hated.

Ivar sat slumped over his desk, his ale untouched to the side of him. He turned to eye Artemis, who sat by the fireplace, her mending forgotten again. Her skin glowed with the shadows of the fire and her pale eyes shone brighter than anything he'd seen before. The contrast was striking and Ivar couldn't bring himself to look away.

"That cup...it was stolen from the monestary in Crete, " Artemis finally answers quietly, turning to look at the shadows dance across his chiselled face.

"And what does it matter?" Was the boyish reply, "What is so important about this cup that your eyes wish me ill?"

She watches the fire for a moment, the embers hissing as they burn and crackle loudly against the quietness of Ivar's chambers. She wondered if Bjorn had gifted him the chalice. It was to no surprise to her that Ivar had in his possession the very chalice that was to be blessed for holy communion. Was Ivar feared so, that he recieved gifts to keep his anger at bay?

"Skilled hands made that chalice,"

"And what of it?" Not understanding, he sucks his teeth in annoyance. She wasn't a seer to be speaking in riddles. He focused his eyes on her as she laid his breeches on the fur rug, meticulous in sticking the bone needle into the thick fabric.

"I made it, Prince." She replies with equal force, holding out her calloused hands as if to prove her worth.

Ivar looks at her small hands, noting the lack of smooth skin, but it could have been due to her labors since arriving to Kattegat, and so he simply sucked his teeth unimpressed, waving his hand in the air aimlessly to dismiss her statement.

"You jest," He says, fingers gliding over the small pearls embedded perfectly into the gold, "This is fine work. Not even my people have learned to craft such delicate ornaments," Vikings made weapons of destruction, not dainty items to be viewed like a beautiful woman on display. Kattegat had only seen items such as the chalice when his father returned from his first raid in Lindensfarne. Whatever fine items they had, such as jewelry, were mostly traded or stolen from the Baltic lands.

Artemis frowns at his comment.

"My father and I were employed by the abbot. He had commissioned the gold chalice in your hands, as well as all the other gold and silver that was stolen from the monastery,"

"You lie."

"I do not." Ivar's huffs, glancing at the gold again as if he was just seeing it again for the first time. It was impressive work, even he had to admit.

"You can forge silver and gold?"

"I am the daughter of a blacksmith, I can forge any metal I please," The pride could easily be detected in her tone.

"Hmm." There was silence after that.

Artemis turns back to the mending, picking up the bone needle and staring intently at the tears the were left to mend. She couldn't focus on it, pulling the thread around as if she were actually completing the task.

"And that is why you were in the monestary," Ivar breaks the silence again, "To deliver the items." Turning the gold chalice this way and that, he put it to his smiling lips as if testing it. She grunts in reply, moving to work with the tough fabric.

"I suppose you aren't the whore we thought you to be," Ivar smirks, eyes peering at his slave who sat quietly by the hearth. He was half expecting a reaction from her, but instead she remained quiet, closing her eyes tightly and inhaling deeply. She refused to say a word. She wouldn't.

"I'm quite surprised you were allowed such an upbringing," He continues to taunt, "If women aren't allowed to fight, then how could you have learned the trade of men?" She remains quiet still, trying to ignore him as she poked the bone needle into the fabric with difficulty. She would need a lot more practice.

"You may speak freely, Artemis." To this she turns her head, shocked at her name name spilling from his lips so easily. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"I studied alongside my brother. He was to be the true heir, until he passed from plague," Artemis kept her eyes on the threading of the garment, distracting herself from Ivar's gaze, but it didn't help, "Someone had to help with the family business, even if it was a daughter." The memories of her father flashed in her mind, causing those melancholic feelings to resurface.

The man lost a wife, a son, and now a daughter. What did he have left?

Her hands begin to shake, causing her to prick a finger. She hisses, nursing her finger quickly before glancing at Ivar.

Why was he frowning?

"No mother?" He asks.

"She died when I was a girl of the side sickness,"

Ivar remains quiet, only looking at her with eyes that were less menacing and more...sympathetic. It must have been a trick of the fire. The fire makes people see what they want to see, and she had always wished for his gaze to be kinder. It was just a trick.

"I did wonder why you cannot complete the tasks a woman should," He breaks the awkward silence with a snort, "You were raised by men." He then tosses the golden cup towards her.

She catches it easily, watching the metal gleam beautifully with the colors of the roaring fire. Her reflection on it's golden surface revealed her frowning face. Ivar was right, for once. She was not the best cook or seamstress, as those tasks were expected from a woman to complete with efficiency. But her mother had passed when she was young, and Artemis didn't have the guidance that a young girl should from a mother, and there was only so much a father could provide.

"That is true," She begins, "But I can forge metals better than anyone," Well, she couldn't possibly be the best. She was still young, and with age came experience, but she was extremely skillful, and had learned so much already. She casts one last look at the chalice, thinking she'd never see it again.

Ivar eyes twinkled with mirth as a smile stretched across his pale face.

"Oh? Shall I put you to the challenge?" He was grinning now, like a mad man. Artemis ran the pad of her thumb over the rim of the chalice, her chalice, while looking at Ivar from under her lashes.

"What did you have in mind, Prince Ivar?" Ivar didn't hesitate in his answer, leaning forward in his chair as he focused all his attention on his slave.

"I am in need of a new axe, one to aid me in England. Have you ever forged one?"

The axe was the first large piece she had learned to make as it was the weapon of choice for the Emperor's soliders. Artemis hides a snicker behind her fingers, quickly gaining composure at the sudden annoyed knitting of Ivars brows.

"Of course, in the Greek fashion," Ivar hummed in approval, placing his hand under his chin in thought before replying.

"It's settled, report to me in the morning, we shall be paying the blacksmith a visit."

...

Artemis tightened her cloak around her body, hoping to shield herself from the morning chill. It seemed that the early morning and late night winds were always the harshest.

She has passed by Kattegat's blacksmith plenty of times since her duties had doubled, and she would often take a minute or two to peer inside the forge, reminiscing in the sights and sounds that tried to bring her back home. It didnt work, but she relished it, even if for a fleeting moment. But it was different arriving there with Prince Ivar, who dragged his body with gloved leather hands over the snow with determination in his eyes.

"Young Ivar, and company, what can I do for you?"

Artemis had seen this particular blacksmith before, sometimes with an older man. He was a handsome fellow, with long dark hair tied back messily, and with the typical blue eyes of the northerners. He was of strong build, broad shoulders that seemed endless and a height that made him tower over the both of them.

"Arvid," Greeted Ivar, heaving himself up onto a stool by the sharpening stone wheel, "Your father?"

"Out on business with Floki. The boats need stronger nails to support the wood," Arvid quickly answers the crippled prince, "What can I do for the prince of Kattegat?"

"My slave here is from foreign lands. She claims to be a blacksmith. I would like to put her to the test, if you can provide us with the materials needed," Ivar removes the leather from his hands, digging into the folds of his breeches to reveal a golden coin. He tosses it at Arvid who catches it in one hand with ease.

"From Ragnar's hoard?" The blacksmith asks, turning the coin over in between his fingers. It was a foreign coin for sure, but it was still gold.

"It is of no importance'" Ivar growls "Now get us what we need, she will be working on an axe," Arvid nodded, tucking the coin away in a purse before going to the back of the shop to retrieve the items.

Artemis takes in her surroundings quite vividly, as if it would be the last time she would see such a place. Not many candles were lit as the natural daylight illuminated the area just enough to work. The hearth was a familiar sight, and she absentmindedly stepped closer to it, her body shivering as it adjusted from cold to warm. It was all familiar yet so different. Everything was the same and yet nothing made it feel like home.

"Slave!" Avrid called out, "Come and help with the material."

"Her name is Artemis," Ivar shouted back with an grimace as he motioned for Artemis to remove his furs from his shoulders before taking his axe and placing it on the sharpening stone. "Go help the fool," He whispers to her. She bowed her head towards Ivar in respect before making her way towards the blacksmith, who bore the largest of smiles.

"My apologies, Artemis," Arvid had a charming smile, and she was happy to see he had all his teeth intact, "I know you," He says quietly, "You always peer in the shop. I was beginning to think it was to admire me," Arvid belted out a laugh when he saw the pink rise in her cheeks.

"I just wanted to observe your technique. It is different from what I've learned,"

"Right, well, if you say you are a smithy, then I assume you know what these items are," He had laid out on the long table familiar items to her that she had used alongside her father and brother.

"Yes." She says, running her hands over the different tools, before turning to look back at Ivar. He was sharpening his axes but his eyes were glued to the pair, the blue unmoving.

"This would take some time." Artemis says. It would take a few days, a week at most.

"Obviously," Ivar snorts, "We have time, it is not yet spring," Ivar removes the axe from the sharpening stone, testing the edge with his thumb. "We have time, but do not waste it."

"And what of my duties to you and Edda?" She wouldn't make much progress if she were expected to complete her daily duties on top of being in the forgery, it wouldn't work.

"Don't worry about the old hag, she has enough thralls to help her. But you will complete your duties to me come the morning and evening," Ivar said pointedly.

"You may begin."

Artemis flexed her fingers, removing her cloak to which Arvid took and placed away. The blacksmith then placed a small block of steel on the anvil closest to Ivar, handing her a hammer. The fires of the forge seemed to roar as Ivar's and Arvid's expectant eyes watched her for her next move.

It felt like an eternity since she had been able to touch any metals, and her hands missed the transformation of rough surfaces into smooth finishes. She placed a pair of gloves on that lay beside her with no hesitation, grabbing at the long metal tongs to grip the steel. The fire licked at the metal, turning it from its usual dark color, to a beautiful combination of bright red and orange.

Heat started to build up, and sweat began to form on Artemis' brow quickly, her curls already laying damp against her forehead. Pulling the bright yellow metal from the fire, she placed it on the anvil and took a deep breath. Gripping the hammer tightly in her hand, she raises her arm high, bringing it back down with a vicious pound.

And then she smiled.

Now it felt like home.

...

 @didiintheblog @heavenly1927

[sirsharp-a]

You Make Me so Mad. ❜

Summary:  Breathe, bunny.  You have to breathe.  Even if you don’t want to. Warnings:  Just gut-wrenching angst.

    She awoke that morning with butterflies in her stomach.  Curled up in the blankets, bare legs entwined with his, a cosy feeling radiating throughout her body as she nuzzled into him.

    He loves me.  Edgar loves me.

    Slowly, Grace opened her eyes, prepared to greet him, only to find that she was alone.  The duvet had been fed between her legs as if to simulate his sleeping body, the warmth surrounding her a product of the cocoon that had been consciously crafted for her.  Clearly, he hadn’t wanted to wake her when disappearing for the day.

    “... Eddie?”   she asked redundantly, hoping to hear his voice from the bathroom.  He showered every morning, oftentimes at six on the dot, but she’d heard the lack of running water long before she’d asked for him.  He isn’t here.  Why is he not here?

    With a huff, she threw the covers off of her and began searching for her clothes.

    “Idiot...”   she muttered ruefully, scorned by the fact that he had vanished in the midst of such an important confession.  Dragging her underwear up her legs like a stubborn child, she snatched up her dress and began to fix it into place, grumbling the whole while.   “You can’t just disappear after saying that…  you make me so mad sometimes--  stupid-head--”

    He probably has work to do, a voice in her head said.  When did he not?  If it wasn’t as an Alpha, it was as a bartender;  if it wasn’t as a bartender, it was as a political ace;  if it wasn’t in Huron, it was on Earth.  Somehow, in some way, he was always coveted.  She hated the fact that his free time was always so minimal, but she understood it.  Responsibility had a funny way of tailing him  -  and why wouldn’t it?  He was a mature man, a well put-together and responsible figure of authority;  somebody that exuded confidence and charm;  somebody that people felt they could trust to get the job done;  somebody that people  liked.

                                                                I just wish I could spend more time with him.                                                                                … maybe I’m just acting spoiled?

    About to storm out, she paused whilst grabbing her keys.  On the nightstand, a crisp white envelope stood lodged between the lamp and the clock, her name unmistakeably scrawled in cursive.  The woman hesitated, feeling guilt begin to gnaw at her conscience.

    Did I get angry too soon?      Maybe he just didn’t have the time to stay…  so he wrote a note instead?

    But why would it be  addressed to her  if such was the case?  Why would it be  closed, sealed and complete with the tavern’s address in the event that she failed to notice it?  Slowly, the pit of dread that she’d found herself in yesterday began to open back up, her heart skipping a beat.  With clear hesitation, she moved to pick it up, perching on the edge of the bed to examine it more closely

    Grace Adler.

   ( In the event that this letter is left unnoticed, please return to the sender address on the back of this envelope. )

    With her heart beating hard, she flipped it over and examined it.  The Strahvern’s address…  and a note that was clearly meant for her.

    In the event that you have noticed this, please do not open this letter until a week from now.

    Her brow furrowed slowly, confusion and apprehension only growing.  Suddenly, the paper felt heavy in her grasp, panic beginning to nibble at her ear as she pondered on what to do.  She felt torn.  In her head, she knew that she should obey the notice.  He had never failed her as a leader before, and the side of her brain that had grown used to being his inferior felt keen to abide by his instructions…  but there was a primitive feeling in her heart, one that tore at her with teeth and malice.  Much like humans could tell when they were being watched--  even when there was no particular reason to feel as such--  she could feel in her gut that disregarding his order was the right thing to do.

    If I don’t open this and read it right now, something irreversible is going to happen.  I don’t know what and I don’t know how, but that’s the way it is.  Everything about this is wrong.  Something is going on and he isn’t telling me.  That means it’s serious.

    With trembling fingers, Grace tore a small hole in the corner of the letter, one large enough for her finger to squeeze through, before she drew it cleanly along the sealed triangle.  It opened without much resistance, a sheet of paper filled with crisp black ink staring back at her.  Even without knowing what she was about to read, she knew to steel herself.

    My dearest Grace,

    If you are reading this, it is likely that I am already dead.

    Static crackled loudly in her ears, eyes dimming as she stared at the message.  What do you mean dead?  Part of her wanted to toss the note aside;  to find him and slap him for daring to write something so horrific, but she knew that doing so would only harm her.  If I don't continue, I'll never know what he's talking about.  With her heart in her throat, she forced herself to read further.

    There are a lot of things that I have been struggling with as of late.  Mounting wars.  A growing demand for my services on Earth.  My duties as an Alpha.  My developing feelings for you.  I want you to know that my disappearance has nothing to do with any of these things  -  least of all, you.  I do not believe in suicide.  It is the coward's way.  Even if I consider it sometimes, I would never go through with it.  I believe in rising to challenges and overcoming one’s own weaknesses.  I need you to know that.  It was never your fault.  It was never anybody's fault  - not even my own.

    There is no way to talk about this without being forthright, blunt even  -  whether it makes me sound insane or not.  A few days ago, I was visited by Raku.  I have met him several times and, as such, am somewhat familiar with his disposition.  He did not greet me with patience this time. He was angry and bitter, and informed me that my time was drawing to a close.  Apparently my existence ‘upsets the balance’  ( which I may consider a compliment of the highest order, even in spite of my impending death ) and I must vanish.  I do not know if this is true.  I won’t pretend to understand the universe, nor the work of deities.  I do understand what I am though, and as such, it would not surprise me if Raku is right.

    Do you know the way of hybrids, Grace?  We are brought back from the dead based on sin Over time, we are supposed to recall our transgressions, become horrified by our past choices, and seek out death as punishment.  We are supposed to be so overwhelmed by guilt that we want to do nothing but die.  But I do not feel guilty.  I did some distasteful things, but my reasons were sound.  I was a grieving man.  I was a sad, lonely, desperate man that had everything torn away from him.  God turned His back on me, even when I was devout, so I turned my back on Him.. I will never apologise for the person I turned into  -  not without my maker first admitting that it was His fault that I became them.  Until then, I am comfortable at this impasse.

    He is not.

    Soon enough, He will forcibly take my life away from me.

     How dare He try to take what He didn’t help me to get.

    I know that I should have told you.  I should have told everybody.  It isn't just you that it will hurt.  A group of lyes will be leaderless.  Murr will lose a dear friend.  Earth will lose a fearless vigilante.  All of the people that my favours have reached will lose a reliable business partner.

    But all I can think about is you.

    Believe me when I tell you that I tried, Grace.  I tried several times to come clean;  to admit that our time was limited. That our dates were numbered.  That though my passion for you was infinite, the time I had to show you it was not.  I couldn't do it.  Not only could I not break your heart like that, I couldn't accept it myself.  I kept telling myself that there was a way around it, that I could use my brain and worm my way through, but it is impossible to stand up to God once He has decided what will be done.  I'm truly sorry for keeping this from you.  It is one of the only things in my life that I regret.  You deserved more than this  -  and though it causes me great pain to say so, I hope you find the one that can make you happy;  the one that can stay.

    I can only hope that I leave this plane with you feeling loved  -  because you are.  I am certain that even in the void, my heart will ache for you.

                                                                                                       Always yours,                                                                                                              E. Strahv.

    P.S:  There are a series of letters awaiting you.  I have scheduled their delivery across the following year.

    She sat there in silence, unable to process what she had just read.  The letter was beginning to crease with how hard she was clutching it, and only after a few minutes of stagnant silence did something wet hit the page.  As soon as she became aware of the fact that she was crying, she found that she couldn’t keep herself from sniffling  -  and that snowballed into a sob so hefty that she felt it was choking her.  Before she knew it, she was struggling to breathe, tears thick and hot, panic jeering at her from the side-lines like a rigorous coach.  I want to see you break a sweat, kid!  It ain’t real unless your vision’s blurry!

    You can’t die.  You  CAN’T!  

    What about all of the happiness that there’s left to have together?  We were just getting somewhere.  You can’t leave now.  You can’t leave now.  Please don’t leave now--

    Breathe, bunny.  Just breathe.

    Somewhere amidst the pounding headrush, she heard his voice soothing her, bringing her back to reality.  She had had a number of panic attacks in front of him before, though it stung her pride to admit as such, and he had been the voice of reason that slowly drew her back down to earth.  He couldn’t cure her, but he could certainly help when the world felt as if it was caving in on her.

    Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Grace tried to will the connotations of the note from her head.

    I was supposed to see this when it was too late, but I didn’t.  There might still be time.  I did the opposite of what he told me to do and it might just save him.  I could do something.

    … but what?

    If Edgar, the most powerful lye she had ever witnessed, stood no chance against their maker, what could she realistically do?  There was no way that she’d be able to make a dent in the deity if her Alpha couldn’t.

    It doesn’t matter, she thought stubbornly, forcing herself to stand up on quaking legs.  Her heart was pounding miles too fast, face pale and hands quivering, but she rose.  She rose much like a phoenix being reborn, caked in dirt and weakness, only to emerge as something formidably jaw-dropping.  There’s no time to cry over it.  Edgar has always come through for me.  I can’t rest knowing that I didn’t at least try to do the same for him.  He’s never had an hour of need before, but his time is now.

    Quivering fingers curled around the note once more, scanning the text for clues.

    ‘Even in the void, my heart will ache for you.’

    “... I know where you’ve gone,”   she whispered to herself, haphazardly folding the note and tucking it into her skirt, flattening it down before shifting into her lye form.  Agile footwork carried her from the bed to the open window, her body a long streak of shadow as she sailed effortlessly over its ledge and onto the cobblestone path below.  She would need to move fast.  Now more than ever, her footwork was key.

    There’s only one ‘void’ I know of in this God-forsaken place, she mused as she darted across the street and into the never-ending plains.   It’s No-Man’s Bluff.

[deluxedolans]

I think you’ll write something good with 58

hi lovie! thank you so much for even sending something in :)))) i hope you’re having a good night!

this blurb goes along with my clara grace series. while you don’t necessarily need to read the other fics to understand this one, this blurb does branch off of them 💙💙💙

thank you so much again for sending a prompt in—i had so much fun writing this! (also sorry for the weird spacing!!) i’m gonna finish the rest of the blurbs throughout the next few days☺️ thank you to anyone who sent any prompts in!

58.) you’re never this quiet, what’s wrong?

never in a million years did ethan dolan think that he would be this excited for his little girl to come home. as he pushes open the front door, sandals slapping against the pavement, a little smile graces his face at the small surprise he has in store. ethan’s daughter, clara grace, had been begging for a paw patrol backpack for weeks....but not just any paw patrol backpack. clara grace wanted a hot pink paw patrol backpack with glitter on the handles and straps, ‘like the one i saw on tv daddy!’ (as clara frequently reminded him).

however, after months of searching for said paw patrol backpack ethan had turned up empty; it was constantly sold out on on amazon, and the stores only carried the pink ones without the glitter, which would certainly not be up to clara grace’s standards. thankfully, after three months of searching, ethan finally snagged one off eBay for probably more than he should’ve paid for for a kid’s backpack, but anything for his sweet girl.

ethan stands at the end of the driveway trying to contain his excitement as he rocks back and forth on his feet, arms behind his back clasping the golden ticket to clara’s happiness. as the big yellow school bus puffs to a stop ethan’s heart swells as he spots clara through the windows of the bus, the little bun on top of her head definitely messier than how you had tied it that morning but still in tact. just before clara makes her way to the end of the aisle he can see her stop as a little boy talks to her, a pout evident on her face as she slowly turns away. at this point in time, ethan thinks nothing of it; usually by the end of the school day, clara was exhausted, her little arms always wrapping around her daddy’s neck as soon as she came home from school in hopes of him carrying her into the house, which he always complied with. as clara watches her feet as she makes her way down the bus steps, her face can’t help but break out into a smile when she sees her daddy waiting there with his eyes wide open.

upon seeing clara’s face, ethan can’t help but toss the wrapped package to the side—that would have to wait.

“my daddy!” clara cries as she hops off the last step of the bus. her arms outstretched as she slams into ethan’s chest.

“hi angel,” ethan chuckles as he waves goodbye to the bus driver, scooping clara up in one arm and the wrapped backpack in the other. clara, completely distracted by the warmth and strong grip of her father, doesn’t even realize that ethan is holding another object in her hand; she was safe in her daddy’s arms and that’s all that mattered.

“missed you. you have a good day?” ethan pecks the top of clara’s head as he walks down the driveway. clara shrugs as she turns her head to look at her daddy, eyes blinking slowly.

“s’wrong, peanut? you okay?” ethan asks as he pushes some brown wisps away from clara’s forehead. again, clara shrugs, rubbing a knuckle into her eye. ethan shakes her reaction off; as a kindergartener, clara was still adjusting to the rituals and routines of getting up early, socializing throughout the day, and learning. apparently, clara was advanced in nearly every subject, which ethan was so fucking proud of, but it didn’t make the day any less tiring for the exuberant five year old.

ethan presses another kiss to the crown of clara’s head. “wanna snack?” clara’s head flops a little against his chest as she nods, her pudgy palm pressing to ethan's cheek. “yes, pwease. i missed you too today, daddy,” clara practically whispers, her arms moving to wrap around ethan’s neck once more.

ethan smiles softly at his mini me as he pushes open the front door. “missed you more, baby. so much. you want some bananas with peanut butter, that sound good?”

clara nods eagerly, her legs kicking to get down as soon as she makes her way into the kitchen, immediately running over to her arts and crafts drawer to grab her coloring supplies.

after a few minutes, the sound of crayons scribbling furiously against paper makes ethan’s ears perk up as he slices the bananas. clara grace sits at the kitchen table, eyes narrowed as she presses her blue crayon into the paper harder and harder. this was part of clara and ethan’s routine; he would always make her a snack and she would always color, but the lack of chatter was beginning to alarm him just a little, especially when in combination with her aggressive artistry.

as soon as clara breaks a crayon, that’s when ethan knows something is wrong; unlike most five-year-olds clara is incredibly protective over her art supplies, making sure to take special care of them. clara consistently made sure that all her markers, colored pencils, crayons, paints, glitters, etc. were always put back in their proper place—breaking them or mistreating them was practically out of the question.

ethan catches clara’s eye as he begins to scoop the peanut butter on the side for her (just how she likes). “what’cha coloring, peanut?” ethan inquires nonchalantly. ethan knows that clara grace will eventually tell him what’s wrong but if he presses her, she could get huffy and retreat to her room.

clara, shrugs yet again. “s’nothin’, just me and my friend tommy.” her eyes wander downwards to her feet which swing aimlessly as they hang from her chair.

“tommy? you have a friend—that’s a boy?” ethan’s mouth falls open in over-exaggeration. he walks over to sit across from her at the kitchen table, his hands clasped in front of him. “you can’t have any boyfriends, clara, you’re too little! my peanut can’t leave me yet.” ethan’s voice goes up several octaves as he tries his best to get a smile out of her. still, clara’s eyes remain glued to her feet.

“clara, baby, you okay?” clara’s lip begins to wobble at ethan’s soft tone. ethan’s heart begins to break at the first sign of tears. whoever was making his baby girl cry he’d fuck them up, even if they were six years old. “you’re never this quiet, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” ethan prompts again.

it doesn’t take more than two seconds for clara grace to break, her shoulders shaking, face falling into her hands. clara looked so, so small in her chair as her face crumpled and ethan couldn’t help but race to the other side of the table and lift her up from her chair, placing him in his lap. “hey, hey, hey, s’okay, peanut. take deep, breaths, alright?” ethan rocks her back and forth, his palm rubbing soothing circles into her back as she sobs into his shirt. clara grips onto ethan’s shirt tightly, much how she did when she was a baby and she was afraid that he was going to put her down.

eventually, clara mumbles loudly into his chest but ethan can’t quite make out the words. “what was that, angel?”

clara picks her head up, hazel eyes watering, lip wobbling, and face so, so red and puffy.

“dey’re so mean to tommy, daddy. me and tommy,” she cries, her face immediately digging itself back into her hands.

ethan looks off to the side for a minute, his jaw clenched in anger, as he smoothes more hair out of her face. “who, baby? who’s being mean to you?” ethan continues to rock the little girl back and forth, her tears soaking through his white shirt.

clara takes a deep breath, her hands rubbing tears from her eyes. “joey, and mitchell, and sarah, and, michael, and, lily and sarah, and—.” ethan’s eyes bulge at the long list of names flowing out of clara’s mouth; these were all kids that were good friends with clara, hell, kids that had been over their house for multiple play dates. they weren’t mean kids...well, they didn’t seem to be, so ethan was completely baffled.

“whoa, whoa, whoa, all of them? you sure, peanut? you sure all of them were being mean to you?” ethan always tries to flesh out clara grace’s stories before making a judgement call, after all, she did inherit his dramatics.

clara shakes her head rapidly, “no, daddy! you aren’t wistening! dey’re being mean to tommy, daddy, so, so mean,” her voice cracks at the end as the events that unfolded throughout the day replay in her head.

clara sniffles loudly, prompting ethan to pull her in even tighter. “okay, clara, okay, i’m sorry, baby, i’m listening. can you tell me why they were being mean?”

clara nods her head slowly, her bun, now messy, flopping with every movement. “tommy is new in class and didn’t have any fwends. i didn’t want tommy to be lonely so now i sit wiff him at lunch,” sniffle, “at first all my fwends sat wiff us, but—but now all my fwends laugh at us and say, and say tommy‘s weird—.” just before clara was about to go off on another sob-fest, ethan adjusts her in his arms so she’s looking at him eye to eye. “gotta take deep breaths for me, peanut, okay? in and out, alright? just like a big girl,” ethan encourages, his eyes wide as he tries to model it for her.

as soon as clara steadies her breathing, she continues, “dey said tommy‘s weird so dat means that i must be weird, t-too. tommy isn’t weird, though, daddy, and i’m not either! all we do is pway—pway dolls together at centers and—and run outside at recess and have fun.” clara’s cheeks are rosy with emotion and her hair is a wreck.

ethan takes a deep breath. clara has always been the kid to make sure that everyone feels included, whether it was the old couple next door, or the new kid on the block. in spite of her charisma and spunky nature, clara was incredibly sensitive and never wanted to let anyone down.

“you are not weird, clara grace. you are the most special little girl i know, you know that, right?” ethan says seriously, his hazel eyes boring hard into her own. clara nods, her eyes once again gluing themselves to her feet. “clara, you know you’re the best little girl in the world, right?” ethan repeats.

“yes, daddy, i know.” she nods again, this time making eye contact with him, her arms spreading out so he could pull her back into his lap.

“okay, good. because here’s the thing, there’s always gonna be mean people, but that doesn’t mean you stop being nice, okay? sometimes the people who are being mean are only being mean because other people are being mean to them.” clara’s eyes are wide open as she hangs onto her daddy’s every word; her dad could do no wrong in her eyes. he knew everything.

“when people are mean to others clara, you always stick up for them, because you’re my sweet girl. but when people are mean to you, you have to keep your chin up, peanut, because you’re the one doing the right thing and they’re only being mean because others are being mean to them, okay? when people are mean to you and tommy you just have to walk away.” clara nods seriously, her bun yet again flopping with her movements.

ethan chuckles lightly, “can i take your ponytail out? you look very silly. your bun’s floppin’ all over the place!” ethan pokes her tummy, giggles tumbling out of her mouth.

“i can do it, daddy.” she reaches into her hair to fish the small pink scrunchie out of its hold, slipping it on her wrist like she’s seen her momma do so many times.

“you’re such a big girl now, baby. i’m so proud of you for sticking up for tommy, even when other people are being mean to you for it. my sweet girl.” ethan whispers the last part out without even realizing it, his thoughts escaping his lips. “now what do we do when people are mean to us, clara grace?”

clara grace’s little brows furrowed in concentration and seriousness, “we keep our chins up and walk away,” she states firmly, hands on her hips.

ethan holds his hand out for a high-five, which she accepts. “that’s right!”

before ethan stands up, he kisses clara on the cheek. then, clara jumps up and runs back to her seat, her fingers greedily diving into the bananas with peanut butter.

as ethan turns around to clean up the counter, he spots the wrapped backpack. ethan’s eyes light up, fingers twitching as he reaches for her gift, “oh claraaaaaaa, guess what daddy found for you!” clara’s face turns to ethan’s her brownish green orbs big and curious.

ethan holds out the wrapped backpack, sliding it across the kitchen table to her. “for me?” she asks, eyes wide in disbelief.

ethan tries his best to stifle a giggle at her incredulous expression. “yup! quick, baby, open it up!” clara rips off the wrapping paper, her hands going to her mouth in surprise as soon as the backpack is revealed.

“no way, daddy! weally?!” clara’s arms hold the backpack tight to her chest, the glitter already flaking knto the kitchen table. ethan could give two shits, though as long as his sweet girl was happy.

“uh huh! i found it online and ordered it soon as i could. now, tell me, who’s the best daddy in the world?!” ethan smirks, his arms hanging out to his sides in dramatic fashion.

“you, daddy! my daddy, best daddy in the world!” clara jumps down from her chair, and runs over to ethan her little body hitting his hard, even as she mumbles a slight, ‘oof’ to herself. ethan’s heart grows 100 times in size; nothing was better than getting validation from one of his babies that he was doing a good job, even if you told him all the time.

“can’t believe i got it! look at all the sparkles, daddy. wow!” clara rambles.

ethan laughs softly, “i know! looked everywhere for it, i told all the store people, ‘hey, listen, i need a sparkly paw patrol backpack. no sparkles, no deal, alright?” clara giggles at her daddy as he tickles underneath her chin.

“hey, daddy?”

“yes, clara?”

“i think tommy would like one, too; his favorite color is pink.”

and that was how ethan got sent on a hunt for yet another sparkly pink paw patrol backpack for four months.

[pixelatedrose]

A Rose For A Valentine

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/???

Word Count: 1504

Cast:

Lochesis Lodgick (logic). Lo, Lochy, Sisi for nicknames

Pandora Morralitie (morality) Panda, Pan, Dora, Pancake for nicknames

Rose Kreativve (creativity) Ro, Princess for nicknames

Valentine Anxxiatie (anxiety) Val, Valen for nicknames

Dahlia Desceat (deceit) Dahl, Di, Dahli for nicknames

Ruby Kreativve (Remus/intrusive thoughts) Ru, Ruru for nicknames

Riley Sleapp (Sleep) Riy, Lili for nicknames

Emily Picani (Emile) Em, Emmy for nicknames

Trigger warnings: Verbally fighting, Breakdowns, mentions of sex, uncensored swearing, fake friends

Chapter 3

  Rose walked out of the classroom, knowing Pandora would be calling her later to ask why she'd lied.

  Rose didn't ride the bus home.

  She never had.

  She just didn't want that stupid emo nightmare trying to talk to her, no matter what the reason.

  "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…!" Rose muttered to herself as she stormed out of the building. So much for a good first day of school…

  What had happened at lunch was a nightmare that wouldn't be easily forgiven, regardless of the fact that Valentine wouldn't have had any way of knowing.

~~•~~

  "It's none of your business who Pandora is friends with!" Valentine shouted. "And who's to say that maybe she'd rather be friends with someone who's deeper than a puddle on the sidewalk!"

  Rose's mind jumped into action. This emo was starting to cross over the line of things Rose was willing to put up with.

  "Are you calling me shallow?!" Rose yelled, holding a hand up to her chest dramatically on instinct, having her friend's joke and tease with her about the subject in the past. This was different.

  "If by shallow you mean that I wouldn't get my feet wet if I stepped in you with no shoes on then yes."

  Rose was furious now. "Bitch!! Who the hell are you to tell me who I am?!"

  "I don't have to; it's written all over your everything!"

  "At least I try and be friendly instead of hiding in the back of the classroom and sulking like someone just killed my dog!!"

  "Well at least I know my friends want to be my friends!!!"

  Rose stopped and fell back on her fears.

  They're just sticking around out of pity.

  They're not real friends.

  They'll all leave eventually.

  They don't really want to be around you.

  Rose didn't hear the emo try and keep the fight going, she just turned and walked off, unable to get a grip on her emotions. She clenched her fists and held her breath, fighting down her bitter thoughts.

  Lochesis finally caught Rose's shoulder, snapping the redhead back to reality.

  "Rose, hold on-" Lochesis started but was cut off when she saw Rose fighting back her tears.

  "What if she's right though…!" Rose finally choked out, her voice just barely a squeak.

  Lochesis didn't hesitate in embracing the golden eyed girl, letting her friend take a few shaky and choked sobs into her shirt. The tall girl lead Rose over to the stairwell a few steps away and say her friend down on the bottom steps, soothing her long-time childhood friend with coos and quiet shushs.

  Pandora jogged up to the pair and struck Rose with a soft and tight hug, comforting the girl back into reality.

  "I'm okay now…" Rose said, swallowing down her tears.

  As her distress fell away, anger quickly rose to replace it.

  Rose clenched her fists again. "That stupid bitch is gonna get what's coming to her, just you wait. I'll-"

  Pandora quickly jumped up. "NO!!" She shouted. Seeing Rose and Lochesis startle, she calmed her voice. "No. Listen I know Val hurt your feelings, but she didn't know that, A, you have self esteem issues, and, B, that it would hurt you that much." Pandora's big blue eyes pleaded from behind her glasses. "Please give her at least a chance? She's been my best friend since I was like two years old and she's got no other friends. And if you two ended up fighting, well…" Pandora paused, thinking about the situation and shook her head as if clearing it of unkind thoughts. "It'd be sad!!" She stated plainly.

  Rose slouched her shoulders. "Did you even hear what she said?" Her eyes glared down at the tiled floor. "And I don't think she'd be one to actually even want to make up with me." Rose gestured down the hallway back to the cafeteria. "I mean look at her!! She looks like Tim Burton hand crafted her and through some satanic experiment brought her to life!!"

  Lochesis looked at Rose curiously. "Didn't you mention this morning how much you love Nightmare Before Christmas?"

  Rose waved a hand at her friend. "Shut up, just...shuuu."

  Pandora pouted. "You're not even gonna try?" She asked dejectedly.

  Rose looked down and picked at the holes in her jeans. She finally stood up, throwing her hands over her head. "Fine!" She huffed. Pandora started clapping her hands before Rose pointed at her. "But I'm still not talking to her today! It'll have to wait till tomorrow or something."

  Pandora still bounced a little. "Yay~!! I'm glad you're not giving up on my strange dark daughter!!"

  "What even-" Lochesis started to question before Rose's huffing interrupted her.

  "God what a shitty day this is turning out to be…" Rose groaned.

  Pandora gasped and stood on her tiptoes to cover her girlfriend's ears. "GASP!! Watch your language, Rose! We don't want the human computer learning it, you don't know WHO she'll start repeating it to!"

  Lochesis pulled the honey haired girl's hands off the side of her head, settling for them draping over her shoulders. "I'm not a child, Pandora, I know swear words," she leaned her head back to smile at the short girl. "But thank you for worrying, darling." She winked and Pandora nearly fell over herself.

  Rose rolled her eyes, smiling widely. "You two are sickeningly adorable." They laughed together as the bell rung and they parted ways.

  As soon as her friend's were out of sight, the bright smile faded from Rose's face entirely.

  "Well at least I know my friends want to be my friends!!!"

  Was Valentine right?

  Rose couldn't help but feel that maybe she was.

~~•~~

  Rose waited outside the school thinking about the day. Rose had only grown more upset when she'd found out that the emo was in her chemistry class as well.

  Rose shook herself and stood straighter. C'mon, I bet she's not that bad. She's just a little prickly, that’s all. We can make up tomorrow and then everything will be fine! She told herself.

  "Ro-ro!!" A girl that looked strikingly similar to Rose ran up to her. "Guess What?!"

  Rose have an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. "Please don't tell me you damaged my reputation again, Ruby…"

  Ruby giggled and shook her head. "Oh no, I do that on the daily, I don't have to try to do that!" Rose made an offended noise before Ruby had to dodge a playful battering from her sister. "I got a GIRLFRIEND!!" She shouted gleefully.

  Rose stood shocked in the middle of the walkway as she watched her sister. "You What?!" She nearly shrieked.

  Ruby nodded up and down. "Yep!! You heard me right! Duchess Trash-Bitch landed herself a date with only the most suave girl in school!!"

  Rose snorted. "Pah-lease, Ruby, I don't think that's possible seeing as we're sisters, so go check your facts."

  Ruby pushed Rose so hard she fell into a bush. "You think you're so high and mighty but whatever. Besides, Dahlia is way cuter than you'd ever hope to be, loser."

  Rose stopped. "Dahlia? As in stage director Dahlia?" Rose thought to their student director for last year's winter play. She had known that Ruby and her had become good friends after that year, but she didn't know they'd become that close.

  Ruby nodded happily. "Yep!! That's my girl!!" Ruby sighed happily. "Heheh...Imma fuck her so-"

  "GROSS, RUBY!!!" Rose shouted, shoving her sister. "I don't wanna hear about your gross fantasies!! Keep them to yourself, will ya?!"

  Ruby cackled maniacally. "I was kidding!! Mostly…" She added the last part a bit quieter.

  "In any case I still don't want to hear about your gross sex fantasies! Keep those and whatever other disgusting thoughts you have to your self!" Rose said.

  Rose and Ruby were twin sisters, the only thing telling them apart being a small mole under Ruby's left eye and Ruby's slight height difference, Rose being just a tad shorter. They were best friends- partners in crime! Ruby was always the one to mature up and console Rose after failed auditions and fights, and Rose would always sit there listening to Ruby’s bad days and grievances. They were as close as two sisters could be. A team.

  As Ruby went on and on about how wonderful Dahlia was, Rose was finding it harder and harder to keep up her smile.

  First Lochy and Panda, now Ruby and Dahlia… Rose thought. Everyone seems to have someone in their lives but me...I wonder who else will beat me to the stage of romance…

  The two girls finally got home where Ruby very excitedly and loudly announced her new girlfriend to their parents, who delightfully listened to her rant about her day till dinner was done.

  Rose picked at her food and got up before it was finished. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

  "Don't drown!!" Ruby called after her sister.

  Rose turned on the water and stepped inside before curling up and hugging her knees to her chest.

  She thought of the entire day and what Valentine had said.

  And Rose began to cry, letting the sound of the water mask her sobs as she let the day wash over her and down the drain.

  Hey y’all, sorry this is so late! It’s a short chapter I know, but I hope you liked it! I don’t really have much of an excuse for having this out so late, I just kinda had life catch up to me and lost a ton of motivation. despite that, I had fun writing this in the last hour-ish or so! Hope you liked it!!

  Okay so I just edited this and wow there were a lot of things I messed up. In my defense, I wrote and posted this at like midnight. In any case I fixed it, so I hope you find this version a bit better!

  And one last thing before I go; I drew all of the main cast for A Rose For A Valentine (Valentine, Rose, Pandora, Lochesis) Would all of you like to see them all?

  Okay that’s it, love you all byyee~!!

[rebelwriter95]

Okay its here! Chapter 2 of Rules, Memories and other Uncomfortable Things! It's not been beta-ed so dont judge me lol

Rules, Memories, and other Uncomfortable Things

Word count: 1211

Rated: t

Warnings: war scene kinda/death

Chapter 2

** “Quickly child!” screamed your mother. Even with as loudly as she yelled, you could still barely hear her over the disorienting blasts and explosions going off around you. “Wait!” your little voice called out. Right as your small fist closed around the cloak that your mother never left home without, your mother’s hand closed around your wrist. She starts to run, dragging you away from the rubble that used to be your home. You trip, landing on something soft and warm but before you could figure out what it was your mom scooped you up and ran as fast as she could toward the waiting rebel craft perched precariously in the destroyed street. She just about tosses your 9 year old form up to the waiting rebel in the craft. You watch on in horror as a trooper comes up behind your mom and raise his blaster to her back. You try to yell to your mom to warn her of the impending doom, but nothing came out. Your eyes screwed shut as you hear the blaster go off, the rebel who caught you pulling you closer to him, calling out to the pilot to take off immediately. You shake him off and sink to the floor of the craft as if all of your bones had just evaporated, still holding your mother’s deep purple cloak. An ugly sob erupts from your chest and you cry into the thick material as the ship begins to take off. 

Not even 15 seconds had passed from take-off when an incoming missile nicked the right side engine. Fire and smoke billow from the now shredded engine and the ship lurches to the left and plummets the short distance to the ground not far from where you took off. You were thrown from the wreckage and your knocked out form rolled to a stop in front of a slender figure covered in armor. He bent down gently to pick up your small crumpled form and cradled you to his chest. He turned toward the figure looming near him and at the nod of his elder, the boy carried the purple bundle to a speeder close to them. Whispering to her through his helmets modulator that everything will be okay. “I’ve got you. I’ll be your family now little one.” **

My fingers tremble slightly as I fasten the clasp of the cloak around my neck. Smoothing down the front, I take one last glimpse in the dirty little mirror hanging in what constitutes as the Razorcrest’s bathroom. I’ve  braided my hair to keep the unruly strands out of my face. My hazel eyes look tired and puffy from lack of sleep last night. I sigh and walk out of the bathroom and make my way to the cockpit where the Mandalorian is piloting his prized ship. Rather unceremoniously, I plop down in the free seat next to The Mandalorian. “I thought I’d find you here. I think we need to talk.” Mando sighed and shook his head slightly. He punched a few buttons before speaking. “ I don’t know what there is to say,” He mumbled. “So, what? It ends the way it did and we don’t see or hear from each other for 3 years wherein you randomly pop back up to ask for help with a mission that apparently only I can help you on. What gives?” When he still didn’t respond, I stood up and slammed my hands down on my hips. “Why wont you talk to me?!” I practically screamed at him, my composure slipping quickly. Then, unaware of the small bundle that snuck up behind me, I jerk my body around to storm away from the frustrating bounty hunter and trip over it. It makes a startled shriek, which in turn caused the Mandalorian to twist his entire body toward the little creature on the floor. 

Before Mando could swoop in and save the child, the latter started cooing and hobbling to me with his little hand out. I reach out back to him and the Mandalorian visibly tenses up. Three small green fingers wrap around one of mine and the hair on my body stands to attention. Pin prickles run riots on my skin and my head swirls and pounds as a flow of energy rippled through me. I felt a consciousness brush against my very soul. To say that it terrified me and thrilled me is an understatement at the very least. Shimmering auras of pale lilac and silver seem to swim around me, ebbing and flowing in time with my breathing. Curious, I mentally push outward and feel two other beings in the room with me. The first, the Mandalorian, dark and foreboding. The other, brighter than the first, was much stronger and yet it seemed to want to cuddle with my own consciousness. The feeling of connecting with this small child was oddly familiar and comfortable. Mental fingers curiously reach out and brush across my mind and into memories, ones precious to me that I keep tucked safely away. Freaked out, I jerked away, causing the child to let go of my finger, severing what little was left of the shared connection. The Mandalorian quickly bent down to grab the now happily babbling bundle that was still reaching out for me. Pointing at said bundle, I start babbling myself while staring wide-eyed at the two, panting as I try to catch my lost breath. “What.. It just. Did… Did you feel it? Dyn, it’s like... It’s.. DYN” I cut my ramblings short and turn my shaky alarmed stare at the man. “WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN ME INTO DYN JARREN?” I screech at an almost inhuman level, scaring the baby. 

     

** “Carefully, cyar'ika. That’s the way.” Her soothing voice called out to you. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, you steady the beating of your heart and focus on the task you were working on. Eyes closed, you reach out and feel the energy of the world around you. You ground yourself into the core of the planet and deep into your being. Calling forth all the power your little being could muster, you pour it all into the seed. Your body starts to tingle and the hairs on the back of your neck perk up. Meanwhile the seed began to quiver and rock back and forth and then a little green shoot popped out of the hard brown casing. The shoot wiggled and stretched up to the bright blue sky. As soon as two little leaves reached their fresh faces toward the warm sun, you slump over exhausted with your venture. “That’s it! Good job my darling!” Your mother squeals to you as she scoops you up and spins you around. When she sets you down, she grabs your shoulders and speaks softly to you. “Listen now. You can’t tell anyone about this, my love.” She cups your cheek in her hand gently and looks you in the eyes. “If anyone were to find out about us, they would take you away from me.” Your tiny hands come to rest on hers and you say, “I’ll always be right here momma.” You snuggle into her and mumble into her neck sleepily, “I’m never gonna leave you momma.”**

Chapter 2/?

[itsthegardener-blog]

A lonely night.

It always sets in when I’m alone, for being around people always chases it away before it leaks through. It’s like an oil that sticks to my skin and no matter what soap I use, it won’t come off. I could go days with not a hint of the feeling creeping back in to bring my mood down. Though it always creeps back in and makes it difficult to function.

The sun was slowly setting as I drew the blinds of shut with a feeling curling around in my stomach and chest. Soft fur brushed around my ankle causing my attention to shift from the window to look down at my cat. Bob let out a meow as I bent down and scooped him up into my arms. Walking towards the couch I carefully sat down cradling my cat in my arms before I felt my throat start to tighten up with too many emotions to describe. Taking my glasses off and setting them aside I buried my face in Bob’s fur as he let out a confused meow. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as my hands rested on Bob’s chest and felt his soothing purr rumbling loudly. A wretched feeling burrowed itself in my chest but this time there was no one around to help console it. Bringing my face away from Bob’s fur I rubbed my nose miserably and reached for my phone. A last ditch attempt to distract myself from the cold house that surrounds me.

No new message.

Tapping on the group chat I quickly type something stupid and hit send. I don’t like using my phone when I’m in these moods because I feel like I need to confess the very problem that has plagued me since upper elementary. To confess all the bad thoughts I get when it gets really bad, to confess why I don’t like it when people ask about the slight discoloration on my wrist. It often helps to make a quick lie so I don’t have to reveal any of the things I struggle with. Things that my mother doesn’t think I have anymore. A.D.D, anxiety, therapy, and depression. I couldn’t bear to do that to her again. It broke her the first time I admitted I wanted to kill myself and made me feel guilty for being the family screw up.  She went on and on about how she was a failure of a mother and why did I feel this way. I’d never admit that my depression started when she started going out every night to waste money at casinos. I’d never admit that sometimes she just makes me feel like absolute trash because I can’t pay attention in class due to the fact that I’m supposedly cured of my A.D.D.  I won’t ever admit that I’m scared to go home sometimes because I can’t take the constant lectures about why I’m getting a C in a class.

My phone pinged causing me to snap out of my thoughts and I eagerly unlocked it only to see it was notification from a game. A sigh escaped as I lock the phone and push Bob off of my lap. Bob let out an agitated meow as he jumped onto the coffee table turning to look at me. Pushing off from the couch I stood up with colorful dots dancing in my vision before it went black for a couple of seconds as I stumbled forward. My knees hit the coffee table before my vision came back and I blinked to fight off the dizziness. My feet moved away from the table and down the hall into the bathroom. Shutting the door I let out a sigh hearing Bob starting up with his evening of meowing. A calm practice I had before it became a routine for when the worst of my evening depression hit. Fill the tub with warm water and just sit. When it gets cold, turn the heater on.

Twisting the drain of the tub shut I turned on the faucet on to the second warmest setting before moving to undress. I kept my eyes away from the mirror with mother’s words echoing in my head,“You need to lose some weight, that’s why you’re so unhappy.”  I stepped into the hot water. The water caused my feet and shins began to itchy in the hot water. Slowly I lowered the rest of my body into the water causing a hiss to escape my lips when pale skin turned red. Pulling my knees to my chest I rested my forehead on them with a tight throat. The ugly feeling in my chest grew and grew.

“Do you want to be stupid the rest of your life?”  

“You’d never make it on your own.”

“I’m going out, don’t do anything stupid.”

“You aren’t depressed, you just need to lose some weight.”

A hideous sob broke through as my thoughts dominated the careful barrier I had crafted to protect my kind heart. My own thoughts were the very weapons that always hurt me the most and always destroy everything I had build. My chest heaved with each broken breath as tears cascaded down my cheeks that burned so hot from the blood filling in them. It formed an ugly blush on a face with furrowed brows above squinted eyes and a runny nose.

My throat felt like someone was squeezing it slowly as my shoulders racked with stuttering gasps for air. Hot tears mixed with cooling water  as my teeth found a perch biting into my bottom lip. My fingers curled into my thighs I could feel the tiny crescents moons being made on my pale flesh. The cold feeling returned to my stomach as a new assault of attacking myself returned with vigor. A metallic taste of iron filled my mouth causing me to release my teeth’s grip on my bottom lip. Picking my head up from my knees I brought a hand up to my mouth and rubbed my fingertips over my wet chapped lips. Bringing them back into my line of vision I stared at the bright red coating my fingers. It reminded me the color of cherries or strawberries.  A morbid memory crossed my mind as it reminded me of the scars that use to live on my wrist and how they bled the same color.

[lilcutieana]

PANACEA~ 9 (Angel AU)

A/N: Took me a whole week to write, since Bangtan hit me with too much distraction. AGAIN.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning: angst, smut, little bit of fluff

Rating: 13+

Pairing: Bea x Jungkook, Taehyung x Y/N

Genre: Angst/ drama (happy ending)

The story so far: Yoongi and Y/N try to settle the situation with Hosoek and try to keep Jimin from joining the Fae as he is too young and vulnerable to their deception. Jungkook and Bea are slowly blurring the line between friendship and lovers.

Chapter one   Chapter two    Chapter three    Chapter Four

Chapter Five    Chapter Six    Chapter Seven   Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine    Chapter Ten   Chapter Eleven         ═══════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════════════════════                                            *＊✿❀ Jungkook’s POV ❀✿＊*

         ═══════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════════════════════ 

Bea looked so peaceful when she was on the brink of falling asleep like this, with her breath slowing down, under my soft caresses on her scalp. Her brows had smoothed out with a little smile that formed on her pale pink lips. The only problem being, it was kind of painful for me, but it hurt so good, with her being so close to my crotch. Its hard to even keeping myself from squirming, thus giving myself away, resulting in me trying to sit as still as possible.  

Her head was directly on my lap, the loveseat being small and cozy enough for her to cuddle up to me. Which might have been warm and comfortable for her yet it was like a test to my sanity since I wasn't exactly in the right position to have her head resting where it was, secretly hoping she notices the situation I was in and also praying within that she doesn't.

She moved her head to the right, moving her hand directly on my stomach and getting even more comfortable on my lap, her cheek resting directly above where I ached and needed her the most...but not like this. This was torture, pure agony in its rawest form. With every warm breath, it was getting harder to not grip her hair tighter instead of just caressing it and force her to just take me to relieve this burning need for her. 

I swallowed every moan that threatened to spill from these sinful lips that were bitten to point of bleeding and throat parched of any liquid,in hopes of distracting myself from the pleasure that spiked my blood the moment she replaced the pillow on my lap, the same pillow that was wedged between her creamy thighs peeking from the flowy black skirt that she wore for the day.   

Watching closely, I saw her very subtly shift her thighs closer, clenching them to the point that her calves were bulging, veins becoming more prominent. Oh no, Bea, you're not so subtle at all. She was just as affected as I was. Her breathing had certainly got faster, hips moving over the cushion deliberately, with calculated movements and dainty fingers clenching my shirt tightly with her cheeks nuzzling onto my very apparent and prominent bulge. 

Just what does she think she's doing? 

Suddenly, Tae screamed about Jimin's presents. Jumping with a fright, we both separated from the other. Bea was practically glowing red like a traffic signal, I'm quite certain I was no different. Looking around, I saw Jiminnie holding onto noona awkwardly while standing still right outside his room adjacent to the kitchen. Huh. Taehyung really startled him, just like he did to us, from his position on the windowsill next to the back door, it seems. 

The kid looks frantic, With his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, brows furrowed and hands picking on nails, waiting for Jimin to turn around. He always gets louder when he feels he is about to lose something. Is he scared of leaving noona alone with Jimin now? He really needed to learn to keep his feelings in. When Jimin did turn around, he was beaming with a smile, eyes crinkled and cheeks looking even more squishable. Watching Jimin become happier at the prospect of a gift was a novelty. He radiated happiness and serenity, while still holding onto noona awkwardly, making her squirm to get in a comfortable position. 

When Tae left earlier, he looked devastated. With tears welling up his eyes, lips cascaded downwards in pout and chest shaking with broken sobs. He acted like her being here was wrong. As if noona had betrayed him.

Did he know her from before?

When I stumbled upon them earlier in the woods, they were kissing. Actually, it was noona sat on his lap pecking his lips softly, peppering them with little kisses until he smiled, and, here I am, unable to even touch Bea the way I wished to. They did seem to resolve whatever it was that had him upset.

He looked chipper, relieved even, back then. His smile was blindingly bright, just like the day he had found us deep in the woods ten years back. Tae looked awfully happy and dazed, with slow movements and gaze fixed on her form, scared if he looked away even for just a moment, she'll be gone like petals in the wind. 

Half registering the need to rush back, he was running behind me still with a dopey smile that vanished the moment he met my glare that ruined his love-induced state resulting in him running like he was on steroids the moment he realized she was indeed in danger.

As I looked at him again, he had regained his devastated look with brows furrowed, lips trembling, he looked about ready to cry. What had triggered his insecurities? He was always insecure since childhood, trying his best to be someone that everyone liked, yet sometimes his sadness would burst forth through the cracks in his well-crafted mask of happiness. He felt abandoned, never good enough, someone he had met one night promised to stay with him, only to never show face again. Truly, a coward move. It left him with scars that would never heal. 

And just as dramatically as before, he stumbled his way straight to the backyard going unnoticed by almost everyone, as they were too busy watching Jimin interact with noona. I hope Tae wasn't planning on escaping to the woods again. I was in no mood to go looking for him in the dark. I looked to Jin hyung for help, but he was already rushing with a determined gait, a scowl fixed on his too delicate to look tough face. When it came to noona, he was always oddly protective of her, defending her actions and choices, even when she was in the wrong.

Wait..... was the woman Tae met one time....actually noona? Was that why he felt betrayed when he realized she was right here all this time, so close, yet not with him? That makes sense why they'd kiss and be happy about it. I guess..... age doesn't matter for him. She's like, thousands of years old. Man, this sure is something to tease him about. But why would he be sad when noona was just playing around with Jimin? He wasn't jealous of that kid, was he? Tsk.... he should know better. 

Just then I felt Bea tugging me. Turning towards her, I raised my brows at her sheepish expression, "We should go, give them some privacy." While she was essentially right, now, wasn't the time. "Let Tae come back, I'm worried about him." 

With her head tilted cutely, she turned around to see the windowsill now vacant. Whirling around, almost losing her balance, she looked at me with comically wide eyes, "Did he just.......?" 

Rolling my eyes, I affirmed her suspicions with a single nod of the head. Taking her hands in my lap again while waiting for Jin hyung to come back with Tae. If someone was powerful enough to able to order us around, it was Jin hyung. His personality, while warm and caring, demanded certain respect and admiration, that nobody else I knew in this chaotic household could command. 

Just then the door slammed open, startling both Jimin and me, with him crying at being startled all over again. Noona dragged him by pulling on his pajama pants. He was lucky they didn't fall down. That happened once to me, and I was mortified when Bea saw me in my naked glory. Noona really needed to stop dragging us by our pants. Seriously, we aren't kids anymore. Cat or not, she should know better. Jin hyung stormed past us, grumbling to himself and sat on the sofa right across from us. Where was Tae? Didn't he go after him to bring him back?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Tae came rushing back in with heavy breathing and a heaving chest. Bending over, he rested his arms on his knees and took deep gulps of air through his mouth. He looked about ready to burst out his feelings, frantic eyes looking for Jin hyung, undoubtedly, they must not have resolved whatever it was. No sooner had I thought that, he straightened up and pointed a finger towards Jin hyung. 

"How could...." still breathing heavily, he gulped loudly and then with the other hand, that wasn't pointing towards hyung, he stopped Yoongi hyung in his track towards him. Just one pointed look, and Yoongi hyung stopped and nodded for Tae to continue. "How could you just say whatever and not bother to even listen? Do I not...."  his lips trembled and he bit his lower lip to hold back from choking on his own words. Yoongi hyung looked like he wanted to pummel Jin hyung, right then and there. "Don't I matter to you at all?" Scoffing at Tae, Jin hyung rolled his eyes, pushing his hair back off of his forehead, he replied in an exaggerated tone, "Wow you're a genius, Tae. Five points to Gryffindor!" And laughed at his own joke. Seeing nobody else in the room appreciate his humor, he quieted down. "No. You're in the way Taehyung. Back off before I make you." 

"You don't get to choose what I want! Or what Y/N wants. You don't control her...I respect you, no, I swear I do!", Shaking his head he wiped his eye, that betrayed him, a couple of tears escaping in rivulets. "I understand what you're telling me and why. You don't wish for any of us to hurt, but don't you get it? It'll hurt more if I don't even try---" hiccuping he fell on his knees, making Yoongi hyung glare at Jin hyung. At this point, I was feeling like an idiot for not leaving the room earlier when I had the chance to. Now I neither could leave nor interfere. 

"I don't care, Taehyung. You will not put Y/N under any risk and that's final." Rolling his shoulders , probably to intimidate Tae, Jin hyung turned his head, dismissing the entire conversation. Not that it was any conversation to begin with, merely Tae begging to be heard and Jin hyung completely disregarding him like an annoying housefly over donuts. 

"You sure have some nerve interfering, hyung. Even though you're the oldest, there's a limit to how much you can dictate rules around here." Glaring until Jin hyung was looking at him, he continued in a low voice, "As a guardian, you're meant to guide and protect, not to choose for them or threaten them around." With a ticking vein over his forehead that looked about ready to burst, Yoongi hyung walked towards Tae. "This is something you need to talk to her about. Personally. But it's too soon anyway. Give her some time." With that being said, he patted Tae's head and ruffled his hair, smiling warmly with a fond look in his eyes. 

"She means a lot to me, hyung, don't take her away from me, at least let her be the one to choose." Nodding with a sad smile, he turned around and faced me head on. I wasn't expecting him to notice us at all, let alone be the victim to his spine-chilling glare. "What're you two still doing here? Go get some rest, we have a strenuous morning ahead of us." 

I didn't need to be told twice. Nodding my head once towards him, I  dragged Bea along with me by the hand, straight to my room as if being chased by a swarm of bees. Yeah.... been there, done that. Not a pleasant story to boast about, really. 

I needed to focus. But with Bea in my room, this was going to be a Herculean task. Hopefully, I survive this trial tonight. Shit! 

Just as the door clicked shut behind us, Bea had pushed me to the wall and before I could process what was happening, she bit my lower lip, and started sucking on it, slowly prying my lips open for her tongue to swirl against my own. Frantic hands pinning down mine by the wrists next to my head to the wall behind, a knee lodged between my thighs to keep me in place. I wasn't expecting her to be so aggressive and was too stunned to even blink. Frustrated, perhaps with my lack of reaction, she bit my tongue, drawing blood to the surface and letting my hands go, she dragged her nails across my chest, over my shirt making me groan at the feeling, finally fisting the shirt over my abdomen and dragging me closer to her mouth. 

Startled by her aggression, I tried pushing her away gently by her shoulders, coaxing her to slow down, detaching our mouths for a moment. A moment long enough to see the same desperation as mine reflected in her eyes. All too soon, she started kissing marks upon the skin on my neck, little specks of colorful wildflowers blooming underneath her teeth only to be soothed with a tongue laving at them right after being encouraged with my unrestrained moans of pleasure at being marked hers. Only hers.

I didn't want to appear weak. Though I really was weak, she was my only weakness.   

Why was she suddenly so needy? She never showed any interest in me. Or did I read her wrong? I tried pushing her away once again by the shoulders, only to use more force when she didn't move an inch. Scanning my face with furrowed brows, eyes reflecting her inner turmoil. Her lips trembled and with a sidelong glance, she dropped to her knees, whatever she saw in my blank expression clearly making her upset.

I knew she would hate me for how I am. How can someone feel anything other than disgust for a coward like me? Who hides among humans, protected by angels after betraying their clan, who were preparing him to be a warrior, to protect the sole princess and heir to the throne, and guide and represent their clan. I ruined my chances, the moment I chose to run away.

Still, I reached towards her, prying her hands away from her face while bending down to her level. Her eyes were now a light red with tears welling up, ready to fall. No. No! I hurt her. I didn't ever want to hurt her or be the reason behind her tears. Letting go of her hands, I slowly backed away sitting on my haunches before her, watching tears gather in her eyes helplessly.

My heart hurt, the pain was spreading through my veins, making the blood freeze over rendering me completely immobile and rooted to the spot. I tried speaking, but only a gasp came out making a tear escape her eyes. I didn't know how to explain myself. A thousand scenarios of her leaving me flitting through my mind, each one worse than before. Nothing I could say would fix this. Yet, despite the pain of all possibilities, we kept eye contact. Searching for clues, hidden beneath the boiling desire that we kept bottled up for far too long.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep shaky breath, I was about to get up and apologize but Bea was having none of that. In one swift movement, she was upon me, her arms raised slowly not to startle me and delicately cupped my face in her palms again, much gentler this time, making me open my eyes to look into hers. I stumbled backward, falling on my ass, bringer her along closer to me. Opening my eyes wider,  I tried making her see, how much she meant to me. Why was she so blind? I wished she understood me better. 

"Why not me?" Her broken whispered words along with her defeated expression made my mind blank once again.  With her head bowed, even though she was practically straddling my thighs, tear stains marked her cheeks and her fingers trembled where they rested on my cheeks. 

What?

She must have seen my expression, for she proceeded to explain herself again. Holding onto me tighter this time, her frustrations were palpable. I could almost taste it in the air. Worrying her lips, biting it too aggressively, frantic eyes glassing over again, ready to spill its crystal-like droplets. She rested her forehead on mine as I watched her with wide eyes. "Bea?" 

My voice sounded foreign even to my own ears. So weak and hoarse. I, myself was on the verge of tears. Seeing her cry because of me was killing me inside. I needed to fix this.... but how? 

"Why not me, Gukkie?" Her voice cracked at the end, making her scrunch her face and try again with a deep breath. Sitting up straighter, she dropped her hands on her lap.  "Ever since you saw Unnie, you've been watching only her, not me. Not.... not like you used to. I... I tried t-to "  she abruptly stopped stumbling over her own words.

I was attracted to Noona? What? Was she not aware? She was everything I could think of! But how could I make her see that? She was determined to believe in my actions over my words anyway.

I removed her right hand off her lap and kissed her wrist slowly, then her fingertips all the while holding her gaze, secretly enjoying the way she blushed at the most innocent of kisses yet was the one who initiated such passionate kisses before. She truly was one of a kind. My fiery little Bea ."I'm only yours, she means the same as every other person to me, but not you", then brought her hand down towards my very prominent bulge that had yet to go down after all this time.

Seeing her stunned expression, I was satisfied. "You caused it, Bea, only you. I tried focusing on Noona, because it was a meeting." Chuckling at how she looked at it in fascination,  I pulled her gaze back towards me with my forefinger beneath her chin, "but the more I did, the more of my focus was stolen by you." Watching her look at me with an embarrassed smile, I was relieved. It was a smile after all. Okay... This was not a disaster yet. 

"I have always 'ever' only wanted you, Bea. You make me like this, not 'anybody' else." And then, I kissed her. This time, I was not going to hold back. Maybe I took her by surprise, or maybe she was testing me, but her hand that was so innocently resting on me had now squeezed me tightly, her grip punishingly making me buck my hips into her hands. 

Her lips were just as soft, albeit plumper after all that chewing. She tasted of honey and cinnamon. I let go of her hand, to hold onto her neck and keep her head steady, while my left hand wrapped around her waist,  supporting her weight. Just then, her hand had started palming me through my sweatpants, making me groan out loud, breath hitching in my throat. That felt too good. 

All too soon, she jerked back, with rounded eyes looking at me in question. Understanding dawned on me, why my reaction would scare her. "No, you didn't hurt me." Smiling in reassurance, I touched her core, my fingers trailing slowly, over her now soaked panties making her gasp out loud. "See? It's quite the opposite."   

As I was about to pull away from between her thighs, she clamped them shut, holding my hand hostage right where she wanted it. Meeting her gaze, I noticed a wicked glint in there I was all too familiar with. I was her prey now, and she would stop at nothing to make me submit. And I would let her, gladly. Pushing her damp panties to the side, my fingers discovered her warm core slick with the juices flowing, because of me. Me. I was filled with pride and without wasting a moment I tried gliding two of fingers along her heat while watching her body language carefully. 

Looking for the minute signs of discomfort and pleasure. Her every breath, every movement and whimpers saturated with neediness was making me harder. "Th-there" sighing in pleasure, she continued with her lazy motions over my length making me stifle back a moan by biting my lower lip. The more I touched her, the stronger her scent was. But this time, it was earthier, tangier with a heady musky aroma. My gums ached within to taste her, Mark her my own, to claim her as mine. 

The little whimpers that accompanied muffled moans made me want to make her choke on me. To make those delicious, now swollen red lips wrapped around me, making me cum. As if reading my mind, her nimble fingers started pulling down my sweatpants along with the boxers, revealing my very hard, veiny and peach pink member that flopped sideways once and fell on my stomach only to be held in her firm grip right after. 

Slowly she pulled back the velvety skin making me leak onto her fingers and the tightening her grip she moved upwards, with a little twist, she had collected most of the transparent liquid that had spilled from the tip. Licking her fingers clean with a coy look in her eyes. I couldn't handle this torture anymore. I needed more, why'd she stop? Oh.... maybe because I had stopped as well. I didn't even realize when my fingers had   

Removing my hand from the tight grip of her thighs, I proceeded to lick my fingers just as she had, while smirking at her. She tasted like nothing I've tasted before, slightly sour but predominantly sweet. 

She bent forward, making my stomach muscles clench in anticipation, her hot breath on me making me want to buck my hips to meet her soft lips, perhaps even go beyond them. Looking at me unsurely, she lowered her mouth, licking a tentative stripe from the base to the tip, making me shudder in pleasure and grip her thighs tighter. Gagging she got up, looking at me with her tongue out and face screwed up weirdly. Laughing at her funny face, I wheezed out brokenly, " wh- what's wrong?" 

With a fixed glare, she wiped her tongue on her sleeves, "It tastes horrible. Bitter and like... copper coins? Yeah, it's like those coins. All those porn videos were a lie, man how do they handle it? I'm never, ever, tasting you. Ever! You hear me? ...... God! That was the most regrettable thing I've ever done. Ugh, the taste doesn't fade away. Whyyyyy......." 

Smiling at how adorable she was being, I just couldn't sit still anymore. With my right hand holding onto her thighs, I lifted my left hand to the back of her neck and sat up straight to kiss her fervently, and she let me, going plaint almost immediately in my arms. 

Separating with mirrored smiles on both of our faces, I cupped her cheeks and pecked her lips one last time trailing kisses down her collarbone and then started tugging on her white top since it stopped me from discovering her skin and marking her as mine further, soon we were taking off our own shirts. 

Sooner than I'd have liked, she got up from my lap gracefully and slowly slid her skirt and panties down making me gulp with the now strong aroma of her essence permeating the room. I needed to more than just taste it. I needed it ingrained on my tongue to never forget.   

As soon as I started reaching for her, she jumped away with a wink and went towards the bed with a little skip to her steps. Half turning her body, a backward glance and a meaningful stare towards my pants, had me scrambling behind her to get to the bed, as fast as I could. 

Picking her up, then tossing her unceremoniously on the bed, I climbed in next to her, then proceeded to discard the remaining of my clothes, secretly proud at her shocked look towards my built form. I wasn't the lanky kid from before anymore.

Throwing a pillow at the foot of the bed, she crawled her way to the center, giving me a beautiful view, in all her naked glory, with no shyness at all of her nudity. She's my woman. She had nothing to be shy about anyway. Taking my eyes over her lithe form, I dragged her by the feet making her lie down on the pillows by the headboard, then, started kissing her slowly up her toes, to the ankles, shin, knees, thighs...... And back to toes of the other feet all while hearing her moan in need for more.

“You’ve got to keep quiet princess, we don’t exactly live alone.”

“Guk!”

Having tortured her enough, I scooted forward on the bed, with my mouth close to her heat, Looking up for permission. I knew it won't hurt her, but I just had to be sure. Sure, that this was what she wanted, what she needed for me to do. I didn't even need to ask when she held me by the hair and shoved my face down on her. Well, that works too, I suppose. 

I smiled against her heat. “You’re doing so good for me Bea.” Slowly tracing around her entrance, I collected some of her arousal. “Would you look at how wet you are for me, I didn’t even do much.” Blowing cool air on her, I slowly started to lick around tentatively, hearing her breath hitch and whine every time I reached the top. That one little blob made her most whiny and I focused on just that. “As if you are any better” came her whimpered reply prompting me to rub her little spot with my fingers this time with increasing pressure and speed encouraged by her whimpers and whines for more, all the while slowly thrusting my hips against the pillow that was now strategically placed between my thighs. 

Suddenly, she pushed my head away, her thighs trembling under my elbows and then, with a squeal, head tilting back, eyes were blown wide and mouth open she came for me. Watching her unravel so beautifully, the moment so raw, I came undone right after her, ruining the pillowcase that was changed earlier this morning. 

I'll have to do laundry all over again. Collapsing on her stomach, I turned sideways, being way too sensitive to have anything, even the sheets, to touch me there. 

"I--- Jungkook, you--- how..?" still breathing heavily, she had trouble speaking, gulping large bouts of air with skin vibrating with tremors, and heart racing faster than a normal human's would, she was all mine. Only mine. 

"I'm in... I'm madly in love with you Bea, you're the only one I want and somehow knowing that you want me back, I don't know what to do with myself anymore." Looking up at her with my head on my elbow, I saw her sport a huge smile on her face, glowing a faded pink with eyes closed in bliss. Did she just fall asleep on me? This girl. I needed to work on her stamina if she'll let me. 

"I love you too, loved you much longer than you know." Tilting my head, I looked at her weirdly. That's true, she knew who I was, the day she found me in the ditch, but I never knew who she was. Always assumed she might have been one of the mix breed slaves in the castle. "I'm a royal and two hundred years older than you. My lifespan is different, so are my looks and powers." 

Jumping away from her in shock, I was left speechless with mouth slacking to the point I'd think it might just hit the floor. She was a what? The only young royal alive was the princess..... was she the second heir to the throne? The one I was training to guide.....? 

Say Whaaaat?

Giggling at my horrified facial expression, she got up and cupped my cheek, "I might be the royal princess of the Daemon realm, but I mean nothing more than just my title. The throne isn't mine. But you are." Raising on her knees, she kissed me and just then, the door behind us slammed closed.

Who was that? Who saw?

Chapter one   Chapter two    Chapter three    Chapter Four

Chapter Five    Chapter Six    Chapter Seven   Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine    Chapter Ten   Chapter Eleven