#those are edelweiss on his clothes

[anormaladn]

little winter Siahm

Siahm himself is of mixed fantasy non-descript asian ethnicity but I created him after watching a couple fantasy costume c-dramas so his clothes ended up looking like those and I don't always know what to do with it

[rebellenlied]

@hxbiris + @reiiishii asked // ☤ - a memory of death/loss (for lenore)

memory meme. // accepting.

"kid, i'm only telling you this once. run. run as far away as you can, and don't you EVER look back. do you hear me? RUN!"

those were the final words she ever heard from florence wheth, the woman who was the closest thing she had to a mother. despite her body trembling with fear, she listened with whatever rationality she had left and ran as far as her legs could carry her. lenore was still young, and yet she never looked back as she ran for the woods. the brunette could faintly hear florence shout to sabirah, her wife, to look for help. if fate was kind to the fleur la vie troupe, edelweiss would come to the rescue... right?

lenore practically dives into a bush, making herself as small as she could - she couldn't bear to never know the fate of the troupe.

her dark eyes watch with fear in her veins as she watches one of her best friends - noah gringoire, the front woman of the traveling performers, be taken by the people in white uniforms. she could faintly hear their voices as noah seemingly negotiated and agreed to go with them. they almost seemed so.... miniscule from this distance, but she could still make out their forms and actions. both the troupe and the people in white.

... it felt like time stopped when florence raised her arms and shouted.

"... ARE YOU GONNA PUNISH ME NOW!?"

lenore knew little of what happened next, but at the same time it would be forever etched into her memory, like flames to wood. james darcy, a brother she never had, was the first to be gunned down, sacrificing his life in hopes florence would survive. it felt like the world stood still before one by one, the troupe members were picked off like ants.

her hands covered her mouth, forcing herself to stay quiet, as much as she wanted to scream bloody murder. lenore could feel the tears welling over her eyes as she watched each and every remaining troupe member die. james darcy. florence wheth. even gale march, who wouldn't even hurt a fly.

... why them?

she didn't know if rose was amongst the casualties, and noah was long gone by now. she waited for the men in white to leave the area for good before running back to the ruins of the troupe's wagon, the flames long gone along with her hope of finding survivors.

... as far as she could see, there were none.

the tears finally flooded her senses, an agonized wail escaping her larynx as the brunette ran to the ruins of the wagon and dug for any sign of life. broken and charred pieces of wood and cloth were shoved and thrown aside, avoiding the cadavers as that flicker of hope was snuffed out the longer she searched for survivors. and as her sobs racked all over her trembling body, lenore salvaged a shovel from the destroyed wagon - they killed everyone she loved as far as she knew. at the very least, they deserved to be laid to rest as properly as her limited supplies could let her.

she dug through the dirt with the charred shovel, sniffling as tears continued coming before she heard more voices. lenore could only hope it wasn't the people in white coming back.

[leaderintitleonly]

The Long Trip Home Doc goes home on the advice of his new employer. He might never get a chance to visit the village again if he doesn't. Besides, he needs closure. His wife needs closure. (Mun is giving you a treat before she goes on vacation and doesn't write for a while.) cw mildly suggestive, it's all fluff in here

---

It's a trip home. The explanation. The visit. It's that very long walk home as he tries to sort through his thoughts.

It's miserable business being Death's envoy, but there's something merciful in being allowed to be the last chance. He's simply doing what he's always done for eternity. He's keeping her job interesting or so he's telling himself. Doc tugged at his collar while walking beneath the blossoming trees and felt his throat tightening with anxiety and anticipation, though there's that horrible, nonexistent claws of dread digging into his shoulders. He's supposed to say goodbye. He truly said goodbye years ago so it feels like he's just dragging out the inevitable. Months ago he still believed she was dead. Now she was alive. Now she was destined to live a separate life from him. Some Greek tragedy. His eyes traveled down to his hands with the sad acknowledgment of how ancient they truly were. Time marched on for him. It had stopped for the village. They were a snapshot of a life he had grown from. He was too different now. He at least needed to see her. If it was for one last time then that's what he needed. They both needed closure. His eyes darted to the trees lining the path. The familiar sight of lanterns greeted him. Yet this time, they were lit. Little candles were aglow and welcoming the dusk while guiding travelers to safety. The thaw had begun and the mountain was going to be bustling with activity. They'd be rebuilding. They'd be celebrating. He should be there. He should be celebrating each of them. Yet now, more than ever, he felt like an outsider. Each step he took felt different despite that he was the same person. They were heavier steps filled with experience and age. At one point, they had even held a bit of pain. Death had caused that to fade once he had come into her employ, though it didn't erase the memory of pain. Each step was gingerly placed against the trail as if to respect an ache, yet that ache never began.

He'd just have to get used to that. The climb was as he remembered it; it encircled the hill and revealed the mountain that seemed to pull apart into the clouds. No dwarf lived so far up but it was a nice option. There were flowers up there. Only a foolish dwarf would test his courage to retrieve the flowers on those ledge. That was a lost memory for Doc. The very day of his wedding had been spent tearing out the elbows of his clothes so that Maladroit could have enough edelweiss to decorate her braids. A foolish lover, but a dedicated one. Perhaps that was one of the few reasons he couldn't just pretend she wasn't there. She was always waiting patiently for him. If it hadn't been their wedding day then it was waiting for his shuffling home from work. It might even be waiting for him asking her to dance and enduring sore feet. Maladroit spent most of her time waiting for Doc and deep down, he knew it. Even now, he was making her wait.

The wind tousled her curls while she looked on in concern. It was as he guessed; he was making her wait again. Doc stood on the path and felt his breath hold as his eyes followed the lantern in her hands. She was waiting for someone. Good for her. Maybe she'd move on. She could have a second chance with a younger dwarf. At least it wouldn't be him. His glasses slid down as he studied his gnarled hands again. “Is it you? Is it really you?” He hadn't heard her start down the path while he was reflecting. Doc allowed his breath to release as his eyes met with her's. “It's really me.” His voice crackled warmly. Her face fell. So it was true. A few hundred years had passed between them. “Yâsûn,” Maladroit's voice cracked. “Yâsith,” Doc acknowledged sadly and tilted his head forward. Dropping the lantern, she raced forward and tripped. Clumsy. Of course, she was clumsy. Like a fawn taking its first steps and not quite standing up. That was her. Doc rushed to meet her with his arms open and brought her in for an embrace. “They told me this is your doing.” The woman reached up to cup Doc's face in her hands. Immediately she began to run her thumbs over the wrinkles with concern. Her eyes were dimming. Any hope that this was going to be a normal reunion was fading and Doc could practically hear her heart breaking. “I don't remember getting older.” “You didn't. Only I did.”

He wasn't an elder. He was an ancient. These beings of legend simply didn't exist. They were stories to scare little beards and little braids with. They were dwarfs cursed with duty but blessed with the chance to protect others. History would eventually forget their name as they wandered. Doc kept his arms firmly around Maladroit. “M'sorry it took so long. Weren't floor- uh, sure 'ow to-” Maladroit harshly shushed Doc and pressed a finger to his lips. “You make me this long to see you... you have our grandson bring me back- A grandson, I have a grandson! We have a grandson!” His voice sputtered and faded. All the dwarf could do was nod. A grandson. Their daughter was grown. “I missed so much,” Maladroit spoke in a hushed, pained tone. “I missed so much with you. With our family. And look at you now! Look at me! Look at our village!” If Doc turned around, he knew he'd shatter on the spot. They were rebuilding. They could have their people and culture back. Just not with him. “Mallie.” He tried to be stern but the tone immediately shattered into pieces. That wasn't who he was. To Dopey, maybe. To the rest of the men, he'd certainly try. That wasn't who he was to her. Even with the years having separated them, he still remembered the parts they played so well. “Mal,” He urged softly again, this time more tenderly and pleading. “Ain't fer them. Fer ya. Came 'ere fer ya.” His hands slipped to take hers in his own, grasping them and pulling them to his chest for a moment. “You an' me. We gotta talk. Death-” He pressed his tongue against his teeth for an abrupt pause. Was he even allowed to talk about his work? Considering the ominous warnings he had about leaving this first life behind, maybe it wasn't so wise. “I wanna see ya. Spent so much time 'way. Kinda took us fer granted. Then...” Then that day happened. They had lost it all. Maladroit tugged gently at his hands. “How much time do you have, Doc?” He stiffened and felt his stomach shift. There was never a time limit. He wasn't told a number of hours he could spend. He stayed rooted in the spot and started at his feet, feeling his breath grow slightly panicked. Maladroit tugged again, trying to bring Doc's attention back to her. “I ask for one night for us. Our daughter grew up... We've got a grandson! I don't look like a grandmother!” Maladroit gave a third tug and nearly fell forward, causing Doc to dip forward and wrap an arm around her waist. He trembled. If he dropped her...! Clumsy fawn. Nervous rabbit. Or two reject piglets from different boar farrows huddling together. Both had been uttered by the elders before. “One night.” Doc repeated. Surely the Purple Butterfly wouldn't begrudge him a single night. “One night fer us... I can give us one las' night.” She was visibly bothered, but it seemed inevitable. His life had gone down a very different path. Her daughter was a stranger. Her grandson was a delight, but life had changed so drastically. “Tell me everything. Give me one night with you.”

---

The morning was foggy and a bit chilly. Doc rolled over in bed. It was a familiar bed, though one he hadn't slept in for over a hundred years. It was the same lumpy mattress and he recognized each little discomfort as he shifted beneath the covers. His hands absentmindedly searched for his glasses on the side table as he often used to. It was a return to an old routine he hadn't been in the habit of for a century. He yawned and sat up, then realized his clothes were strewn about on the floor of his old home. He glanced over and watched Maladroit sleeping comfortably. With a frown, Doc started to quietly get dressed. He slipped one leg through his pants and then the other. Somehow, he never managed to disturb her. The ginger beside him was lost in her dreams. Doc could only smile wistfully and hope it was something happier than this. One night. It was one night to understand... And say goodbye. As Doc slowly made his way to the door, he paused by Maladroit's side to place a soft kiss against her lips, then turn to leave the hovel as if it was an ordinary day of work. Maybe they'd never see each other again. Maybe he'd come back to the village to help someone. He couldn't go back home. He had lived far too long and didn't fit in anymore. But she'd have a part of him.

[minniescape]

so, I realized something while rewatching ofmd for the millionth time. This post is an analysis about the song that plays in the pilot, and what it means for Ed’s sad baby cow eyes. IN hoity toity party episode. The flowers edward wore in his hair are edelweiss flowers.

At the end of the pilot episode when homeboy Stede is trying to convince himself that his new family is the revenge crew. (the crew actively trying to mutiny against him obvi obvi) The song High on a Rocky Ledge plays and its lyrics are:

who wears lace? Who feels like he’s climbing up to paradise? This we know. OKAY. Then.

Stede IS the Edelweiss. And Ed “fell” for Stede. Ed associates stede’s ability to express unconventional masculinity with the fancy clothes and fine fabrics. He associates the parts of himself with Stede that he was forced to repress. (also Stede literally gave Ed those edelweiss flowers to wear along with the whole fit. It’s like an imprint.) When Ed thinks that Stede rejected him, he let that confirm his insecurities (don’t we all babe), and he “killed” that part of himself.

This has been said before with the fine fabric, but apparently his heart is also the flower?? a++ costuming ahhhhh!! Did they read the songs lyrics like??

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter One: Shelter Pt. 4 

Back at the homestead, Dolly had gone to pack a week's worth of clothing, knowing well that it’d likely just be one week or even less before Joel and Talia would feel safe with Freddy being on his own. Tanya was there to watch as some of the things were packed since Dolly had been around for a very long time and it was like a museum trip. On the dresser was an odd round silver locket brooch with carefully etched details of an edelweiss flower. Tanya’s eyed the brooch, she’s seen it plenty of times on Dolly if not always, but never knew the story to it. “Dolly, what’s the story about the shiny thing?” Tanya asked as she pointed to the brooch on the dresser. Dolly looked at the brooch as she picked it up gently before sitting next to Tanya to tell her a story. “It’s a pretty old piece of jewelry, isn’t it? I’ve had it around with me for I would guess almost for the past four hundred years.” Tanya nodded as she listened in on the story as Dolly continued. “Now I had a friend back then who had given this to me to remember him by. Back in those days, it was common to have small jewelry pieces with mini portraits of their eyes painted inside.” Dolly explained as she opened the pendent to reveal a set of warm golden eyes looking right back at both Dolly and Tanya. “No fair! We make bracelets for our friends and you get to have eye paintings? I want an eye painting of my friends too!” Tanya stated, realizing she got ripped off on a cooler friendship tradition. Dolly chuckled softly after hearing the complaint, though she may have caused a new strain of headaches for the parents with Tanya’s newfound love for eye paintings. While Tanya talked about her plans to make eye portraits of her own, Dolly carefully went to clip the pendant onto the collar of her burgundy colored dress before slipping on a red wine colored jacket. The time was drawing near for the departure, much to Freddy’s displeasure. Freddy was alone in the dining hall when Dolly arrived, all packed and ready. Freddy, looking defeated, took a deep long gulp of coffee. “I got sold out for some kirsche.” Freddy murmured in disappointment.

“You know the contract well Freddy, the moment I get a sacrificial offering, I am obliged to complete the request. That request is keeping your buns safe and not six feet under.” Dolly calmly stated freely seeing as the Major and the totally not a fake First Lieutenant weren't in the area.

 Dolly paused for a moment to collect herself before asking, “I need to ask, are you planning on being in a separate car or will we be staying close with your friends?” Freddy, looking confused at such a question he had stopped sulking into his coffee, “Well I’d be sharing it of course, it's cheaper and easier to be together rather than do a full on manhunt.” “Damn it, I don’t know what your friend, Sawyer, is like after work, but he smells absolutely like a corpse.” Dolly said, not too happy at the idea of having to share a car space with the creep.

“Seriously? That’s his scent? Maybe he does taxidermy or something after work as a hobby?” Freddy reasoned as the thought of a friend being corpse scented is not a happy image in the least.

“Unless it's human taxidermy, I have my sincere doubts about it.” Dolly responded as she glanced a bit to make sure there won’t be surprise visitors.

[physicalturian]

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 9

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 7156 Archive of our own

Warning : Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Control / Stranger / Flirting / Fluff / Awkwardness / Shibari / Angst / Anxiety / Panic attack If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

– Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

It felt like a cold shower, my fast-beating heart only quickened its pace as I stared at his chest, maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe they went to the same tattoo artist, maybe… He’s a doctor, I never asked him what his specialization was. He’s definitely a surgeon, fuck I’m stupid. I quickly grabbed the sheets and tried to cover my form, his eyes filled with worry as he looked down at himself, confused. I did not have the words, what was I supposed to tell him? If I asked him if he was HandSurgeon and it wasn’t him, he’d be even more confused and would ask me what was going on with me.

I didn’t feel at ease, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Those two worlds, they weren’t supposed to collide. I watched him with wide eyes as he got off the bed and handed me his bathrobe to cover myself, “Here, I don’t know what happened but you’re clearly not comfortable right now,” With shaky hands, I grabbed it from his and wrapped myself in it. I looked at his tattooed hands, thinking it made sense why HandSurgeon wore the gloves. “Do you want to talk?” he asked softly, placing a hand on mine. I recoiled and moved higher on the pillows, earning a shocked look from Law.

 I started breathing heavily, testing if I was able to speak, “You- I-“ I couldn’t find the words, instead I shuffled to my feet, almost tripping, and grabbed my phone. Law didn’t move from the bed, only looking at me in utter bewilderment. I stood there and unlocked my phone, opening the Discord app and tapping on the ‘call’ button on my conversation with HandSurgeon. I didn’t want to hear anything, but I did. I did not want to admit this was happening, but it was.

 The phone on the dresser lit up.

 Law squinted his eyes at me as if thinking then stood up and looked at his phone.

 His hand stopped mid-air as he looked at the screen intently. He understood, he swore under his breath, locking his phone and letting me hang up instead. I let my phone hit my clothes on the ground but didn’t move, “This shouldn’t be happening, oh dear- oh fuck-“ I let out a nervous laugh, placing a hand on the bed before sitting down. He had seen me submitting completely, he had received all my pictures, he was the one who had told me to keep that stupid egg inside me, and he was the one who must have enjoyed it greatly. Looking up, I met his solemn look, each breath was louder than the previous one and I was starting to panic.

 “Did you know- did you fucking know? This whole time- be honest with me, was I a fucking fool the entire time?” I didn’t wait for his answer, instead I broke down and started hyperventilating, swearing under my breath, telling myself to calm down. This was not supposed to happen, I tried arguing to myself that they were the same, and since I got along with both, it should be alright. But I couldn’t listen to reason, I felt vulnerable, caught by surprise, stupid, humiliated, an idiot. I placed a hand on my mouth to stop myself from breathing so loudly, feeling the tears roll down my cheeks in the process. I muttered a muffled “Sorry”, I wanted to calm down, but I couldn’t.

 Joining me on the bed, Law put his shirt back on and reached out for me, only to stop once again when he saw my hesitant eyes. “Hey, hey,” I let him grab my hand to move it from my mouth, looking at him with tear-stained eyes, probably blood-shot ones too. “Look at me, breathe with me,” he took a slow intake of breath, “in,” then exhaled just as slowly, “out, again,” I tried to follow, but hiccupped along the way and felt like throwing up. The nausea was strong, but I tried to focus on Law’s breathing, looking at him he felt like a stranger and yet, I also felt closer to him. It was strange, and I hated it, I hated being this confused and lost. Looking away, I wiped my tears but realized how useless it was with how many more I had left.

 He hesitantly let his hands trail up my arms to hold me still, “Look at me,” I didn’t. He gripped my chin and made me look at him, my mouth puckered up by his hold, I glared at him, my breathing still uneven, “I need you to be clear with me, I know it’s hard but try, can I hold you?” I was surprised by his question, my crying stopping for a moment before resuming as I nodded, mumbling a yes under my breath. I don’t know if it was the best idea, but even though he felt like a stranger, I couldn’t ignore the familiarity of his presence.

 “Good,” he sat tailor-style on the bed and helped me on his lap before holding me tight. He didn’t say anything else. I hesitantly moved my hands to wrap them around his waist, clenching his shirt in my hands; With just as much conviction, which was close to none, I laid my head on his shoulder. Law’s hand gently rubbed my back, his hold was just as tight as before, trying his best to bring me comfort. We stayed like this a few minutes until I calmed down, I then pulled away from him and mirrored his sitting position.

 “I didn’t mean to break down…” I mumbled, wiping the remaining tears from my face, “It’s alright, you’re alright,” He told me. It was weird, seeing him like that. He looked so small, he was beating himself up for something and I was afraid to ask what it was. But I did, “Did you know? About… me, about… Edelweiss,”

 Saying it out loud made it much more real than it felt living it. Pulling the bathrobe closer to my form, I felt a shiver ran down my spine at how long it took him to answer. I was about to ask him again when he sighed, “I did not know, no. I should have guessed-“

“How could you have? Don’t talk nonsense,” I whispered, we both were. This was a conversation better kept in the confine of the bedroom, it was a conversation worth having but neiver did not know where to start.

 “I don’t know how, but I should have,” He ran his hands over his face then through his hair, the frown never leaving his stern expression. Bringing my knees to my chest, I scoffed, “If anything, I should have. It makes sense, older, a surgeon, the tattoos, the gloves! To hide them,” I paused, looking off to the side, “The voice,” I trailed off. With Law I always kept an image of a woman ready to fight, strong, not backing down and with as much wit as I could muster even when he pushed my buttons right and got me flustered.

 But now, it wasn’t just him in front of me. It was also the stranger I submitted to, the man who had me following his instructions, who had me come undone from simple words and nothing else. The same man who I knew could have complete control over me if he only implied it, the one who promised oh so many great things. Those two men were just one, and I knew if he gave me one look, one smile, I’d be ready to keel.

 Giving me a once over, his eyes settled on my legs. He placed a hand on my knee, “I should have too, we’ve talked a few nights now, I should have recognized your voice,” He pull my legs away from my chest, I held the bathrobe right around my chest and watched his every moves, “The way your thighs looked, even without marks,” He breathed, slithering a hand under the robe to hold my thighs with his cold hands, I looked at him intently, not reacting. I did not know how to react, should I flirt? Ask more questions? Shut myself down and ignore all his advances?

 I thought against it, I enjoyed his touch, the proximity… the intimacy of knowing what he could do, what we both could gain from this. Before I could speak, he let go of my thighs and took hold of one of my hand, bringing to his lips as he kissed my knuckles, “We should talk more about this, but I think you need to let out all that stress,”

 I gave him an incredulous look, snatching my hand from his and glaring at him in astonishment, “Right now, I’m not really in the mood to fuck, I still don’t know what to do about this-“ He chuckled and shook his head, I mumbled an apology when he explained himself, “I was going to suggest you’d rest until the food arrived, we’ll talk then,” He then stood up and was about to leave when I grabbed his hand. A genuine surprised expression crossed his face for a moment before turning around to face me, asking me what I wanted.

 “I don’t know how I feel, but… you’re like a stranger, but a familiar one… I know so much about you, but…” I trailed off, letting go of his hands as I groaned, “I don’t know where I’m going with this, to be honest I don’t want to be left alone. I know you’re him and he’s you, I know that, it’s just… I have a hard time accepting it,” I continued, my tone even lower than before. I didn’t know if it made sense, if he felt the same way, I knew so much about him but how could anyone guess the reaction of someone in such situation?

 I heard him hum as he sat back down, “I’m just as nervous,” he started, leaning back on his hands. “I hadn’t planned on… Talking about that side of me right away, I’m not ashamed or anything, I simply prefer to do it with someone who’s worth my time.” I scoffed at his words, I wasn’t going to get offended, we had after all only planned to fuck. We flirted, and teased, but it was all in preparation of this very moment, the one that had been interrupted so abruptly. “I am glad a stranger on the internet is worthy of your time,” I said with a teasing smile.

 He turned to look at me, gauging his words a moment before saying, “You were surprisingly very obedient, I was intrigued,” this time he had the teasing smile, and I was left with warm cheeks. I furrowed my brows, about to deny it but thought against it. I would have fought Law, but now that I knew he was also HandSurgeon, I couldn’t really lie about my… tastes in bed. “And maybe those two little sessions of ours made me realize that there’s only so much meaningless fucking I can do until it gets boring,” He sighed, as if it was a fatality. I was a bit confused as of what he meant, and asked him.

 “I told you I didn’t have a sub because I didn’t have time and was bitter, which is true,” He paused and leaned forward, his elbows now resting on his knees. “I also don’t want to spend time explaining it to all the people I fuck, it’s easier to just have sex, make sure they’re good, and bring them back to their place. I don’t mind explaining to someone if I’ll be dealing with them on the long-term, but one-night stands? I’ll give them a great night, memorable for them sure but I tend to mix them all up in the end.” He finished by dropping his hands on his lap and gripping his pants. I was surprised by what he said.

 Not shocked, but it brought a few questions up. However, seeing how anxious he seemed, I had another idea and nudged his hip with my foot, “I have questions, but I think you need to busy yourself while answering…” He quirked a brow, confused. Thinking of how to word it, I chose not to beat around the bush and just go for it, if he wanted to refuse, he could, nothing was holding him back. “Last night, you did something relaxing right…” I was hinting at the moment he took time to tie some rope around his leg to show me. If that relaxed him, then, “If you want, you can do that… with me, not fully but…” I trailed off, starting to become unsure.

 Wrapping the bathrobe tighter around my form, I felt my heart beat faster, it was maybe a stupid suggestion but I continued, “I’ll need to be able to move, is what I’m saying, because we still need to eat… but I feel like, it’s a cool ice-breaker, for people who know each other pretty well- I mean, we wouldn’t need an ice-breaker then but it still feels like one-“ My rant was interrupted as he stood up and looked at me with a genuine smile that turned into a smug grin, “Yes, let’s do that. I did say I’d tie you up, might as well start somewhere.”

 I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, “I was trying to help you here,”

“Because you’re not gaining anything from this? From being…” He opened his drawer before grabbing two bundles of red rope and throwing them on the bed, “…naked, and tied up I mean. Or perhaps is it for science? It must be it,” I felt my chest tighten at his taunts, of course I gained from it, but I also did not know what else to do to have him relax and talk to me. And that got him a lot more composed than he was moments ago.

 “Maybe I simply want you to tie ties around my leg?” I suggest, only half-believing it. With this, the awkward tension from earlier seemed to dissipate a little bit, it felt nice to go back to the bantering. I watched him as he knelt one knee on the bed to grab the ropes before scooting closer and sitting in front of me. “Then I’ll do the leg, you’re the one in power here. You simply give me the control, remember that.” He said as he loosened the ropes and reached for my leg before I stopped him. I then met his gaze, my hands clutching the lapel of the bathrobe.

 Law did not move and waited for me to speak, before widening his eyes when I shrugged off the bathrobe. I used it as a blanket to cover my lower parts but stayed put a moment, “I don’t know where you usually start but… let’s go,” He stared a bit longer, then smiled, almost timidly, before starting by putting the rope almost like a boa on my shoulder, around my neck. I kept my chin raised as he began tying, not saying anything at first. So, I spoke, “I still have questions,”

“Yes, go ahead,” He breathed, very close to my neck.

 I tried to not react at each graze of his fingers on my skin and found it hard to stop my body from reacting. Goosebumps all over my body along warmth, and fast beating heart, Law did not remark, neither did I. “You talked about long-term, so… you meant to do that on the long-term with Edelweiss but not with… me- not that I’m blaming you or anything, I’m trying to get things clear!” I said quickly. If I wanted to hide, I couldn’t, I couldn’t really move or it’d make Law stop or maybe I’d mess things up. Law did, however, pause to look at me, “I think I wanted to take things slow with you, you seemed eager to fuck but I think… No, I know I’d have asked you what you wanted after we fucked,”

 I quirked a brow, asking him to explain, “You’re not deterred by my personality, and it’s enjoyable. I like your company, and Luffy might be right, I should take more time for myself. What better way to do that than by seeing someone? I would have brought you on other dates, to see how well we got along. So yes, Edelweiss was on the long-term, just sexual, although I’d care for her because she, well you… were my sub. The screen made it easier to not have any romantic connection, let’s say.”

 I nodded, understanding what he meant. He asked me the same question in return, but I first jumped on his answer as he resumed his activity, “You can still take me on dates, if you’d like. I suppose we did things in a messy way, and clearly not in the right order- and very fast, but I never said I wanted to stop seeing you-“ I stopped when I heard him sigh in what I believe was relief. A short smile drew itself on my lips when I saw the cute one on his when he whispered “Good.”.

 “You really thought I was like that? Come on doc, it’s just a hard pill to swallow that you and HandSurgeon are the same, when we’ve cleared things up, I’m sure- well, I hope, we’ll be ok,” Law’s eyes that were riveted on the rope, turned to look at my eyes before he pulled the rope to get me closer to him. It wasn’t a strong, painful pull, it was a gentle one and I went along. The ties weren’t all done yet, but the rope traveled from my neck to part of my chest, under my arm pit and behind my back. Almost like a harness, but it wasn’t finished. I gave him a startled look, then felt the tension.

 “It makes sense that you’re Edelweiss, there is only two people who call me ‘doc’ and it looks like they’re one and the same, clearly you can now call me by my name since my username is not an option anymore.” He looked down at where his hand was holding the rope, the other one moving to caress my arm before resting on my jaw. “I did say you’d look good with a collar, the leash is a bonus,” He whispered before letting go and continuing the tying. I was left hot and bothered, speechless. I took a moment before starting fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he busied himself.

 “I still think doc is a funny name, but sure, I’ll call you Trafalgar if you want-“ “Just Law, or in the bedroom you can call me sir,” I chuckled and nodded.

“How about Doctor Law?” The look he gave me when I asked him sent shivers down my spine, he gave me a strained smile, “Not tonight, another time.” Seeing how he reacted, I couldn’t help but gasp, elated. “Oh, you do- oh you absolutely do, you have the doctor kink! You avoided the topic, but you do, this is very funny, this is gold because you kept teasing me about it,” He placed a hand on my mouth gently to shut me up, giving me an intense look that I returned with more joy than anything.

 Leaning in close, he let go of my mouth and smirked, “If I recall, you got off on me wearing my scrubs, and on every picture of my hands with my gloves, correct?” I was taken aback and felt my face heat up, biting the inside of my cheek. I was trying to come up with an excuse, but he was right. However, I was not about to have a whole conversation about this, I was about to reply when he leaned back, and I felt his nails scrapped against my skin as he slid his finger between the rope and my skin.

 Gasping, I looked at his hand and he chuckled beautifully, telling me he was checking if it wasn’t too tight because I still had to eat and needed to be able to breathe properly. I told him it was alright, it made him laugh again. “Oh, I know it’s alright, you’re practically begging to be touched. You already react so well to any of my touches,” He looked at me proudly before bending slightly as he pressed a kiss on my chest, then he trailed down kisses down to my breasts, his hands holding my sides.

 My breath hitched as I met his intense look, not breaking it. I could almost feel how strong my pulse was getting, how much my blood was pumping. With as much composure, I gulped, “I still have questions,” he breathed out a laugh against my skin before grazing his teeth against my nipples, then straightening his back and abandoning all actions. “Go ahead,”

 While I’ve been naked in front of him for a moment, I felt more exposed after having received attention from him and wanted to cover up. But the way his hands were traveling over my body, the feeling of the rope pressing my skin, the focused look he had as he worked on the ties, it was enough to make me relaxed a bit more. “You’re staring,” he stated, not looking up. “Am I not allowed to?” I asked him softly.

“Oh, you can, there is nothing to see, I’m still fully dressed, that’s all,”

 I caught him off guard by replying, “I can still see your pretty face, and beautiful hands, and how cute it is to see you focused like that,” If I wasn’t being tied, I would have left the room at how ‘too much’ it was, I could have said he should strip but instead I said that. He seemed to think for moment, then ran a hand through his hair almost timidly. “Your questions, ask them,” This time I was the one to chuckle as I did as he said,

 “Now that you know I am Edelweiss, how do you feel about the night we met?” I don’t know why, I wanted to get him hot and bothered. Having him this close made me want to have him needy, like he had me. I did not want to run away, but I knew once this proximity was gone, I’d probably feel weird for some reason. I saw his hands clenching the red rope before he looked up and with a serious expression he said, “Is my girl trying to get me worked up?”

 My eyes widened and I tried to pull away in surprised but was pulled closer by the rope. “Don’t try to run, I’ll tell you, that’s what you want, right? So curious,” He let go of the rope and instead placed his hands on my hips, slowly letting them venture under the bathrobe only a little, to stay there at first, “It makes me truly realize how badly you want to get fucked. You did run off after all, not being able to stay put,” he looked down at the bathrobe, running his hands on my stomach only slightly, his touch close to a feather. “I was teasing you to get you riled up, but fuck, I did not know you were actually getting off-“ he slipped his thumb under the rope that was now tied under my breasts for now.

 I took a sharp intake of air, my eyes riveted on his beautiful hands as he gently caressed my body while speaking, “If I had known, I would have gone harder, maybe brought you on my lap and have you grind desperately on my thigh to get off,” He continued, this time as he had a hand on each side of my ribcage, he pulled me closer before leaning over and kissing between my breasts before trailing his tongue from there to one of my nipple where he stopped, I almost whined, wanting more of it. But I also wanted to make this as slow as possible, test his restraint, so he continued,

 “But as I said, you ran off and like a good girl to ask for permission to touch yourself. I’ll admit, I had to go to the bathroom to reply, and calm down a bit. But then,” he tilted his head to the side and let go of me entirely, pushing me gently to have me laying on the bed. He grabbed my legs and uncrossed them to have them parted as he positioned himself sitting between them, smiling threateningly as he clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Then you had to disobey, do you remember that?” He made sure to have the bathrobe covering me, placing it between my legs. I think he purposedly brushed his hands between my legs too, but I ignored it and kept observing each of his actions.

 When I didn’t answer, he reiterated his question, I answered exactly how he wanted which made him smile. “You enjoyed receiving your punishment too,” he emphasized his words by caressing my thighs over the bathrobe, making me close my legs around him which made him laugh as he opened them again and stopped touching me. “I wonder if you’ll still like it if I gave it to you, but let’s not see right now, I’m sure you still have questions, right? Go ahead, I need to finish this,” He said softly, grabbing my hands from my stomach to put them over my head to get them out of the way.

 I let him do as he pleases and only stared at him in awe, I thought I was getting to him. I thought I’d get him to be more on edge, but he was still so composed and once again taking control of the situation, making me want more instead of the other way around. “You’re breathing so heavily, dear. Do we need to stop?” He asked with a smirk, he was asking to make sure I was alright, but he definitely knew he had me wrapped around his fingers. Clearing my throat, I shook my head, “No, green, sir.”

 His eyes widened for a second before resuming his tying in silence.

 I may have had other questions regarding the whole dynamic, but I couldn’t find them with how all over the place my mind was, right now. My mind and body were enthralled by his very being. “You know… I don’t know why I reacted like that, earlier…” I trailed off.

 Law stopped everything, I could see a change in his demeanor as he placed a hand on my cheek, “Don’t blame yourself, if that’s what you’re doing-“ Grabbing his hand to place it back on my stomach where the untied rope-end was, I chuckled at how endearing it was and shook my head, “Thank you, but no I meant it as,” I paused a moment, running a hand over my face before covering my eyes and smiling nervously.

 “I imagined you, Law, behind the screen and knew it wasn’t a good thing to do, because back then I was just mixing personal and… whatever it was with HandSurgeon, but fuck… it made everything hotter…” I hated admitting it out loud, I don’t know if it was strange or not to tell him that.

“It, being?” He knew what ‘it’ was, but he wanted me to tell him what I clearly did.

 With a scoff, I kept my hand over my eyes and mumbled, “It, being: imagining you were the one… giving me the instructions instead of a stranger, is that clearer? Do I need to spell it out or?” I heard him laugh this time as tried to get my hand off my eyes, but I kept them there and he did not try again right away, “So you touched yourself thinking of me,” It was more a statement than a question, to which I sighed in response.

 “I’m just coming clean of all that happened, I don’t know if it’s weird or anything,”

“I am flattered you fantasized about me, I do love knowing I have that effect on you,” He whispered right next to my ear, I was startled and moved my hand to look at him, only to see his earrings very close to my face. When he pulled away, he looked at me with something I couldn’t describe in his eyes, “It’d be hypocritical of me to shame you when I did exactly the same thing,” he started, pausing as he gauged my reaction. I sat up, having to wrap my legs around his form to not fall back.

 I could feel the rope around my abdomen as I was sitting halfway, looking at him in surprise. He helped me sit up properly, chuckling. “I like to replay a little scene, that happened the night we met,” He started, grabbing my legs as he stood up to have them throw over side of the bed as I sat there. He was standing right in front of me, towering over me, “Now, you were sitting on the floor and looking at me exactly like that,” He placed a finger under my chin to have me look up at him, and smirked down at me,

 “That night, you were just the right height, and I from what I remember, you were eager that same night when I asked you to suck your toy-“ “Oh, god, you meant- I was still confused, I never understood what you meant that night,” I placed a hand on my mouth, but smiled at how cocky he had been since the start. Cocky, vulgar, I don’t know just yet. It depends on the mood, clearly it could have easily tipped to vulgar, I thought.

 Looking up at him, I took a deep breath and licked my lips on purpose before letting my eyes trail down to look at the bulge in his pants. I smirked and looked up at him once again, this time his expression was strained, his jaw tensed. With a curt smile, he asked me if I had any other question and if I didn’t, he had some. I told him to go on.

 “What did you expect from me, and HandSurgeon,” He asked. I toned down my cockiness as I looked away and sat back on the bed properly; I turned around, my back facing him as I put the bathrobe back on. I heard him say he wasn’t done, but I told him I was feeling cold. Once he joined me back on the bed, I faced him anew. “We had talked about it, I would have stopped with HandSurgeon if I found someone which… part of me was thinking- no, thinks maybe it’s you. No pressure, I’m not confessing or anything, it’s more…”

 While I thought of the words to use, Law whispered for me to just drape the bathrobe over my form so that he could continue. Smiling slightly, I agreed and did just that, “I like the thrill with the whole, stranger thing… and maybe the fact that I knew he was- you were so much into it you were ready to have a call with me to… have a session at the most inconvenient of places-“ “You liked it when I said I’d watch your show even if I was at work, is that it?”

 “Yes, but then again, I really enjoyed talking to him too! I don’t know if it was in a fascination kind of way or just a good pal, with whom I would send nudes,” He chuckled and told me to go on, that it was interesting to hear my side of the situation.

 “Then there’s you, who’s a little shithead, always teasing me, and I liked how you weren’t deterred by my attitude either, I thought maybe you’d stop being like that if I kept playing hard to get but I feel like it only motivated you more,” He hummed, to make me understand he was listening. He then paused his tying and said, “You haven’t answered my question,” his tone was flat, but I knew he was just focused. I realized I was giving everything but what he wanted, I cleared my throat and thought back on the question.

 “I think I wanted, want, to date you, with time of course, but I also really wanted to have sex with you. I’m not immune to your charms, you are after all very attractive and- you know I think you might have gotten the wrong impression when I stared at your hands the first night?”

“I do recall you seemed obsessed, I did not know if it was good or bad,” He scoffed, his fingers still working diligently on the knots. He was almost done, I think, but was taking his time.

 “Well, I was just staring at them because it was very hot, so…” Smacking my lips, I looked around the room and let him work his magic, as I continued, “As for HandSurgeon, I guess… just like what you’d expected from Edelweiss, a dynamic that I enjoy and wanted to learn more about,”

His answer was a simple “I see,” which made the whole thing ominous, a few moments passed until he spoke again. Running his hands over the knots, he checked everything was good, I tensed at the sudden touch but let him, perhaps even wanting to lean in for more.

 “I’m done,” He was still looking at my body as he continued, “Now that we’ve talked, we need to know what to do next,” I felt a knot in my stomach and started playing with the rope around my body, what did I want? I wasn’t feeling as scared, or vulnerable as before. I was starting to get used to the idea of them being one and the same, and if I was ready to try with Law before knowing why wouldn’t I want it after learning he was into the same thing I was, right? “What are the options?” I asked him.

 He smiled, but I could see he was getting nervous at the thought of us making a decision. The situation was strange, we both knew it, but I’m sure we also both knew something good could come out of it. “Three choices; One: this becomes something just for sex, we can still talk on discord and keep that thing there… meeting when we’re both free for fun,” I urged him to continue, not wanting to pick that one. “Second, I bring you back to your place and we never talk about it-“ “Hey, hey, what would you suggest that? I thought we both agreed we we’re into one another?” I said quickly.

 Looking to the side, I think he tried to hide his blush as he continued, “We did, but I do not want to pressure you,” He paused, looking at me a moment before continuing, “Three: we give this a try. Like you said, we did things the messy way but it’s not a bad thing.”

 Biting the inside of my cheek, I considered it. And while I did, he added, “It’s up to you how the night goes, we can take things slow. We’re not in a rush, we can simply get the food and enjoy the rest of the evening, or follow the plans we had for tonight.” He kept his tone as neutral as possible, probably trying to not coo me into going with his preference. I noticed how he kept his gaze somewhere around the room or specifically somewhere on my face. He avoided looking at his work, I did not know if it’s because he did not like it or if he enjoyed it a little too much.

 Not giving it a deeper thought, I focused on the pros and cons of giving it a try. Except our shitty schedule, I could only see pros. Sure, Nami would constantly shame me for choosing him, but I know Robin would support it. I spent the last few days talking to him, all throughout the day, asking him questions, getting to know him. I’m certain there was still a lot more I needed to learn about him, but I was persuaded it could work. But you’ve known each other for such a short time, you’re rushing it, I told myself.

 Ignoring that little voice inside my head, I called his name, “I am willing to give it a try, and… follow our plans for the night,” I said softly, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it towards me. He held my hand right there, asking me if I was sure, I nodded, asking him what he wanted to do. “I’ve invested a lot of money in you, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste- and to let go of such a good girl, I will give it a try,” I could hear both of them in that sentence, the attitude of the Law I knew, and the tenderness of HandSurgeon. It did not leave me indifferent.

 We looked at each other a moment, not knowing what to do next. So, I took the first step and shrugged off the bathrobe before reaching out for him. He quirked a brow at my initiative and let me do as I pleased, once my hands were on his shoulders, I pushed him down on the bed and crawled up to sit on his crotch. “Can I kiss you, then?” I asked him with a grin. He splayed his hands on my hips and pulled me closer to him, making me roll my hips against his, he was grinning back a lot more dauntingly. “You’re already asking for permission; you really are so obedient.” I hadn’t realized I had asked him for permission, but he was very aware of it.

 Rolling my hips on his pants, I pressed for an answer, “That needy already? Stop rolling your hips and behave first.” His tone changed drastically, as he slid his hands under my knees before turning the position around and having me on my back, under him. “There, that’s better, wouldn’t you say?” I nodded and cradled his face in my hands, he smiled lazily and leaned in, pressing a simple kiss on my lips at first. But I pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, making him groan when I wrapped my legs around his waist.

 Our breaths intertwining, he was balancing his weight on one of his elbows that was resting next to my head as his other hand traveled the length of my body before stopping at the rope work on my chest. Law pulled away and took a good look at it, his wicked smile only widening. “You are gorgeous, I knew ropes would suit you. Look at that,” He pointed at the skin that was being constricted as I took deep breaths. It would leave marks the heavier my breathing would get as my skin would press against the rope, and that was the beauty of it. I did not know what to say, so I nodded.

 “I don’t think you realize how much of a sight you are, dear Edelweiss,” My eyes widened at the mention of my username, it felt so strange, like in that dream except this time it made sense that he knew. “Let’s show you, mm?” Before I could reply, he pulled the rope he had slid in one of the holes of the work he had done, like a leash, and pulled me with him to sit up. I felt how sturdy the knots were around my body and enjoyed the feeling of the pressure it put around my body.

 Giving me a once over, he got off the bed to stand in front of a full-length mirror I hadn’t noticed was there. Beckoning me to come closer, he opened an arm for me to join him, which I did hesitantly. He was still fully dressed while I was only covered in ropes in my top half. Pulling me closer by the hand, he pressed my back against his chest and told me to look at the mirror. Slowly, he let his hand travel from my arm to my hand then he started letting it roam my body while the other held me in place. As he did so, he told me to keep looking at my reactions, commenting each of them.

 His breath caressing my ear as he spoke in the sultriest voice, “See how I got you shivering just from touching you? My, my, you are touch-starved, this is going to be fun,” He pressed his knee between my legs and chuckled when I gasp, gripping his side to balance myself. “Don’t look away, here, I’ll give you an even better sight,” With his lips pressed against the side of my throat, he looked up at the mirror and we both observed as his hand slid down my stomach to dive between my legs. I gasped his name, which only made him chuckle, “Do you want me to stop?” He had a faux pleading look on his face that made me want to fight him, but I didn’t.

 “No, sir. Keep going, please,” He closed his eyes a moment, exhaling loudly against my skin as his fingers started their works. I felt my body warm up, seeing my face react from his actions and words only made it worse, but he was enjoying every bit of it. “Here, when I do that,” He was now using his thumb to play with my clit, I let out a throaty moan and met his gaze in the reflection, “…you give the most enjoyable of faces, don’t you think it’s cute? I think those are adorable noises coming from such a needy little thing like you, even more so-“

 He stopped talking when we heard a knock on the main door, he let go of me, making sure I was steady before grabbing the bathrobe and telling me to put it on. “I can stay here, it’s probably the person who’s delivering-“ “Exactly, so you put on the bathrobe, there, good girl, just-” He moved the lapel a bit so that we could see the ropes and they weren’t entirely covered by the item. “You’ll stay by my side, after all you like it, don’t you? When people look at you. We’ll give them a reason to look,” Before leaving the room, he asked me if I was ok with it, and I agreed. The night was only beginning, and I was thrilled and embarrassed at the same time.

 When Law opened the door, my heart sped up and I nudged Law’s side to get a reaction out of him. His entire demeanor changed, “Do you need something?” This was unexpected.

[Part 10]

[puckwritesstuff]

♡ for loki and sigyn together because i want to see them happy and lovey-dovey pls 🥺

♡ - romantic headcanon

I've got a few of those. ;)

Every time Sigyn dresses up for a formal event, it takes Loki's breath away. Sigyn feels the same whenever she sees Loki in Midgardian formal wear.

Sigyn's favorite flower is actually edelweiss, and Loki lets her braid blooms of it into his hair when they need to unwind.

Loki's favorite flower, meanwhile, is mistletoe, and Sigyn makes certain to keep decorative bundles of it around at all times.

The first snow after they married, the two of them spent the whole evening on the rug in front of the hearth in Loki's room, sharing a blanket and a cauldron of mulled wine.

They both steal each other's clothing. They both think the other looks far better than they do in them.

Post-TVA, Loki does as much as he can to spend as much time with Sigyn as he can. The tempad is used often to get the most out of whatever scraps of time she has , and he hangs on to every moment.

Sigyn sends letters via Loki to Old Loki and Kid Loki in the Void, as well as gifts and treats for Kid Loki, Alligator Loki, and Harley-gyn when she learns that her Variant is travelling with them. She loves all of her Lokis and does her best to make sure they know she remembers them.

Sorry if that got a little sad at the end. Thank you for the ask!

[ketchup-monthly]

Night Talks - Chapter 2 Bonus

Loceit (post-relationship)

TWs: self-deprecation, flower mention

They were having a quiet night in, laying together in Janus’ bed, reading, when Logan remembered something he had been meaning to ask Janus for months. He and Janus were in their night clothes, Logan in a pair of shorts and t-shirt, and Janus in a set of gold silk pajamas, with the shorter one laying on Logan’s chest, head turned to the side, looking at his e-reader. Putting a bookmark in his book to mark his page and setting the book down on the nightstand, he placed his hands around Janus’ waist.

“Are you prepared to sleep?” Janus looked up from his book, glancing at him, mismatched eyes sparkling behind blue light glasses.

He shook his head. “I have a question for you, my dear.”

While Logan felt that it may have been underhanded, asking him a personal question in the one room where he can’t lie, it was something that had been weighing on him in the back of his mind.

Janus turned off the e-reader and removed his glasses, leaning further over Logan to place them on top of the book on the side table. He settled back down on his chest, smiling at him. “Of course, love. Ask away.”

“Do you still have that deck of cards that we played gin with?”

“Yes.” He snapped his fingers, materializing the cards in his hand.

Logan took the deck and shuffled through it, taking out the jokers, and one of every face card and an ace. He looked over them again, checking to see if they were the same as they were on that day.

“Why do you ask?” Janus set his chin onto his folded hands, eyebrow cocked.

Logan showed him which cards he had taken from the rest. “I recognize the flowers on these cards, but I am afraid I’m not sure what the meaning of each of them is. Could you tell me, dearest?”

“Of course. Which card would you like me to explain first?”

Logan held up the jokers. “This one has Roman holding a red rose and Remus holding a rhododendron. I know that red roses signify romance, but what do rhododendrons symbolize? And this one has amaryllis and angelica.”

Janus smiled a bit before talking. “Roman is Thomas’ romantic, fanciful side, hence the rose, however he is also Thomas’ ego. Amaryllis means pride. Remus, as goofy as he may act, still poses a threat. Despite that, he also shares the mantle of creativity. Rhododendrons mean danger or beware and angelica mean inspiration.”

“You think Roman is prideful.”

“You do as well, love. I also think that Remus is inspirational. He deserves to hear that more, and not just from me.”

Logan caressed his scaled cheek. “He would believe you, no matter what any of the rest of us say to him.”

“I guess. Shall I explain Patton’s next?”

He excitedly switched the cards in his hand. “White camellia, blue hydrangea, white jasmine, and forget me nots. A very beautiful mix; you have a very good eye.”

“You flatter me. I am colorblind in my left eye.”

Gaze sweeping across Janus’ face, he smiled. “Fascinating.”

He cleared his throat. “White camellias mean you’re adorable, hydrangeas mean gratitude for being understood, while blue ones signify frigidity and heartlessness. White jasmine is sweet love and amiability, and forget-me-nots are, quite aptly, do not forget me.”

Logan thought for a second, placing together what Janus and Patton had gone through together. “He was one of the first to truly accept you in front of Thomas, and is widely considered the sweetest of us. However, he is not always like that, shown through his interactions with Remus. You are thankful that he understood you, and want him to remember that. You are also on good terms with him, but feel hurt that he cannot accept Remus as he has you, and still hold that grudge.”

“Brilliant as always, love.”

He pointed to the jack. “What about Virgil? White clover, red columbine, edelweiss, and coriander.”

“Think of me, anxious and trembling, course and devotion, and hidden worth. What do you think that means when put together?”

“This was just after Virgil had joined us on the other side, so you were missing him. You think very highly of Virgil, and believe that he is more than just ‘Anxiety’, you believe him to be strong, able to stand up, if not for himself, for Thomas, at the very least. You understand that separation from you was for the best for him, but you don’t want him to ignore and block you out forever.”

Janus nodded. “He had good times here as well as bad. I don’t want him to live for the rest of his life remembering me as what he thought I was when he left.”

“And my card? The king? Why am I the king? Not that I’m complaining, my dear, I’m just curious because we were not together at the time.”

“You deserve to be someone’s king, both then and now.”

Logan leaned up and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

Janus pushed the blush off of his right cheek. “Blue hyacinth means constancy, violet means watchfulness, modesty, and faithfulness, clematis means mental beauty, rosemary means remembrance, and savory means interest.”

This time, Logan blushed. The cards were created long before he and Janus had chosen to pursue romantic endeavors, and yet this was still what Janus thought of him.

“And—ahem—and this means…?”

The man on his chest reached a hand out to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. “I find you to be exquisite, inside and out, not only your brain. Your memory is uncanny, you are so very loyal, even to those who may not always deserve that faith that you place in them, and while you see and know so much, you remain humbled. You’re stable, never changing for the negative, remaining by Thomas’ side even when he doesn’t believe he needs you there. And I find myself very interested in you, my love.”

“That’s beautiful, Janus.” He took Janus’ hand and pressed it to his lips. “And yours, my queen? Snapdragon, anemone, belladonna, black-eyes susan, lavender, and bittersweet?”

At this, he went from looking into Logan’s eyes, as he had been since they started talking, to looking to the side, a frown on his face. “Deception and graciousness, forsaken, silence, justice, distrust, and truth.”

His words were barely audible, shame clinging to every syllable.

“Darling, that can’t be what you think of yourself.” Logan’s brow furrowed and he squeezed Janus’ hand softly.

He still didn’t look up. “It’s all I’m good for. I lie, I silence others for my own gain, while I pursue justice, I don’t do it in a way that will help others. The rest of you still don’t trust me fully, after all, I am just a liar. I know the truth, I am the truth, but I am stuck in a gray area between that and deception, never fully filling either. I can act as polite as I please, but Roman and Virgil, and even Patton, still cannot look me in the face and believe what I mean. Thomas still doesn’t trust me. I’m stuck.”

Logan reached up and placed his hands on the sides of Janus’ face, gently turning him back to face him, wiping away tears. “That’s illogical and it’s not true. It may be true to you because you could say it in here, but it certainly isn’t true to me, or Virgil, or Thomas, or anyone else. Yes, you represent deception, but you also represent some facet of truth. Thomas needs you as much as he needs Patton, Roman, or myself. I believe you, I know when you’re telling the truth or lying, and understand the meaning behind what you say. So can Remus, and Virgil.”

Janus sniffed. “Virgil doesn’t, that’s why he left me.”

He shook his head, making sure Janus could see into his eyes, and could see that he was being truthful. “Virgil does know. He was hitting his rebellious phase, he was filling his role more. He got caught up in his own head, tricking himself into believing the opposite of what you meant, and that was making him more anxious than usual. That caused him to lash out in anger or isolate himself to give him a chance to calm down. You are not responsible for what happened to Virgil. He made his own choices. He still cares for you, all of us do, even Roman, but they don’t know you well enough now to be able to show you that they care.”

“But my powers—”

“Your powers are meant to protect Thomas. Yes, at times they can be used to cover up the truth, but the truth can often be ugly and harmful. The mission you have given yourself, keeping Thomas honest to himself, while the others cannot see it, I can. Thomas can. Your pursuit of justice within Thomas, it keeps him going, keeps him from breaking down over things that build up. You are as perfect as you can be, in fulfilling your role, in handling your relationships with us, in almost everything you do and are. You may not believe that about yourself now, but I will spend every day for the rest of our lives making sure you know what I believe.”

More tears spilled out of Janus’ eye, and he hiccuped quietly, rubbing at his face over Logan’s hand, trying to dry his wet cheeks. “You really believe that.”

“I do. And you believe so much about the others, in their strengths. Let yourself believe in you too.” Logan caressed Janus’ cheek with his thumb.

He buried his face in Logan’s neck, wiggling forward before relaxing more than he was. Taking a deep breath, he spoke again, in a small, cracking voice. “Can we sleep now?”

“Of course.” Logan took his glasses off and placed them next to the book, turning off the light. He wrapped his arms around the still trembling form of his partner and settled in.

He was going to make sure that Janus knew how much he meant to everyone, and even if that meant actually talking to the others about speaking to him, showing him that he wasn’t just meant for one single thing, then that’s what Logan would do. In the morning, though, because now he had someone dozing on him, someone who needed sleep as much as he did.

[yungidreamer]

Fae

The second one shot in my Kinktober fantasy series

Summary: A lonely fairy in the woods catches sight of an intriguing visitor who seems to love his forest as much as he does. He invites her in, but will she decide to stay?

Wordcount: 4k

Content warnings: mild sexual content, making out, kissing, more reference to sex than description of it, and some magic.

Suggested music: Capercaillie Eastern Reel and Price of Fire and The Seed by AURORA

If you ever meet a fairy, do not accept their food or drink, it is how they draw you into their world... 

She was here, Felix grinned to himself. He had watched her passing near his fairy circle for months, admiring her beauty and the way she always seemed to be so happy when she walked through the forest. He loved the wonder that came into her eyes when she spotted a pretty flower or a cute little bird flitting by.

“Please come in,” he said hopefully. “I promise not to keep you forever if you just come, just for a little while.” He just had to do something to catch her attention, to draw her inside. Felix put his hand on the ground near the edge of his circle letting out small tendrils of magic through his fingertips. The glowing vines of magic crawled over the forest floor bringing forth bursts of spring flowers where they touched.

The movement and bright colors caught her attention in the corner of her eye and she turned to see what was there. A curling carpet of spring blooms covered a short distance up a little incline to a ring of mushrooms growing in the forest floor. She would have sworn it wasn’t there a moment ago.

“How are these growing now?” She asked quietly, directing the question at no one in particular. “Lily of the Valley, crocus, and Siberian squill...you all bloom in spring. How are you here?”

Careful not to step on the flowers, she made her way up the incline to see what was there, what could make those flowers bloom. Stepping into the circle of light brown mushrooms, she turned in a little circle to take in the view of the forest from that point. Somehow it looked brighter, more vivid from that place where she stood. A slight rustling drew her attention to a tree stump a few meters behind her.

“Who are you?” She asked the boy who seemed to be suddenly sitting there, cross legged, his chin resting on the palms of his hands as he looked at her.

“I’m Felix,” he replied, standing up. “Welcome to my forest.”

“Your…” her voice drifted off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t think this was private property.”

“No, please, don’t apologize,” he assured her, standing up and moving to join her. “I don’t mind having you here. It’s nice to see someone appreciate my forest.”

“Have...have you been watching me?�� She asked, taking a half step back.

“A little,” he admitted shyly, smiling up at her through his lashes. “Your sketches of the birds were so pretty. Most people don’t pay enough attention to capture them so well.”

“Thank you, I suppose,” she replied. He made her feel funny. It was some sensation she couldn’t place when she looked at him. He was handsome and young looking, with sparkling eyes and a dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks. A mischief danced in his eyes when he looked at her with an adoring intensity. It should have made her uncomfortable, after all, he was a stranger she knew nothing about. Not to mention the strange way he was dressed. Why was he here by himself? How had he seen her and her sketches in the forest without her noticing?

“Did you like my flowers?” He asked, drawing closer.

“How did you get them to bloom so late in the year?” She asked, turning to look at the carpet of flowers again.

“Oh that’s easy,” he explained, taking her hand and pulling her along to an open part of the forest floor. “Like this,” he knelt down and placed his palm on the ground and let out a small burst of his powers. Around his hand golden ripples pushed out, leaving blooms that pushed up through the leaf litter in their wake. Her eyes went wide and she moved down to her knees to get closer to the sudden burst of flowers.

“Edelweiss,” she breathed quietly. “What are you?”

“I’m a fairy,” he answered, as if it should be obvious. “I live in the forest, care for the plants and the creatures here. Would you like to see my home?”

“Yes,” she said before she could think better of it. It seemed likely this was a dream, or maybe that she had lost her mind, and if that was the case where was the harm in going to see it? Taking her by the hand he led her to an old thick oak that grew near the edge of a small stream. It looked like an ordinary old tree until he put his hand on it and the front of the tree melted into an old door that opened inward. It didn’t look possible, the door seeming to be as large as one side of the tree, but he stepped inside, drawing her in behind him.

“Welcome,” he said as he closed the door behind her. She couldn’t respond as she tried to take in where she was. Through the door was a little world that seemed to defy definition as either a room or a forest. Somehow it was both and neither at the same time. The walls and ceiling were a dome of warm golden wood, shiny and smooth from years of being polished and cared for with gentle hands. Windows looked out through the notches left by knots that had been cleared and set with rippling glazing that sparkled in the low light. Shelf-like mushrooms grew in areas along the walls holding everything from little figures, to cups and plates. Off to one side sat a person sized nest on a little nook that came out from the wall. The mess of blankets that covered it, as well as the cushy looking pillows buried off to one side, looked like they were made of the softest silk in shades of green and brown. On the opposite side sat a table made from the top of a stump that extended from the wall, floating just the right height above the floor. Two small stumps sat, one on each side, providing seats for anyone who wanted to sit for some tea or food, if the mood struck. Spheres dangled here and there, bringing a glowing warm light to the space. It smelled fresh and woody, like rosemary and pine with just a hint of sandalwood, completing the sense of fantasy about the place.

“Wow,” was all she managed to say after taking it all in for a moment or two.

“Do you like it?” Felix asked, drawing up beside her and taking one of her hands in his. “I don’t really get visitors very often.”

“It’s wonderful,” she assured him, turning to look at him and finding his face far closer than she thought it was. A blush rose onto her cheeks and he gave her a warm grin as he took notice.

“I’m so glad you found my forest,” he sighed, taking a hand and brushing his fingers over her cheek. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“No,” she said, her gaze dropping down to his perfectly shaped pink lips. It was just a dream after all, she told herself. If it was a dream, there was no harm. It couldn’t be real. Fairies didn’t exist, nothing could make flowers spring from nowhere, houses couldn’t appear inside trees.

Felix leaned in, brushing his lips against hers as gently as if he were kissing the fluff of a dandelion. His lips tasted like sweet clover and summer strawberries. His delicate hands held her face, tilting it just right so he could nuzzle his lips closer to hers. He filled her senses, with the sweet flavor of his lips and the gentle touch of his hands as they wandered from her face down to her shoulders and arms.

She was as wonderful as he had imagined, soft and giving under his touch. She was so alive and so warm in a way he had missed for so long. Humans usually held little attraction for him. They were short lived, selfish, and obsessed with their world of concrete and steel, missing the wonder and beauty of the nature so close to them. But she was sweet like a summer dawn and took joy in all the little details of the world around her. In her art she had captured the way the chickadee spread its wings as it turned in flight, the gloss of the leaves after the rain, and the glint of the spiderwebs in dawn mist.

“Let me touch you,” he asked quietly against the corner of her mouth.

“You already are,” she pointed out with a breathy laugh, her hands coming to rest on his waist.

“I meant like this,” he chuckled as his hand slipped over her clothed breast.

“Ah, right,” her cheeks went pinker as she pulled his hips closer to hers. 

“Is this alright?” Felix slid a hand up under her sweater, still staying over the soft cotton of her t-shirt. She nodded, getting a closer look at his face as he explored her gently. Near the corners of his eyes he had little marks that looked like tiny silver crescent moons, glowing lightly from within. Over the bridge of his nose and cheeks were freckles of bronze and gold along with those that looked like regular ones. His eyes were brown like the fertile soil of the forest, but had flecks of red and gold, like leaves in fall.

He brought his lips back to hers, guiding her backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the nest like bed. She let herself sink backwards into the softness of the bed and its blankets as he moved to lie beside her. Felix coaxed her into the center of the bed and curled up along her side.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her, brushing a little hair out of her face.

“I…thank you,” she said shyly. Reaching up, she pulled his face back down to hers, capturing his lips. She kissed him with passion and desperation. He was beautiful, he was delicious, and he made her feel like she was coming alive after a long winter.

He slipped her sweater off and tossed it to the floor. He kissed his way over her cheek and down her neck as he snuck his hand under her shirt to touch the skin of her stomach for the first time. He sent out tendrils of magic over her skin, making her gasp at the feel.

“What did you do?” She panted.

“Just a little magic,” he explained timidly. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” she nodded, desperate for him to do it again.

“Here,” he helped her pull off her shirt and her pants, leaving her only in her bra and underwear in the soft nest of the bed. He stretched out beside her, running his knuckles over her stomach lightly.

“What about you?” She asked, running her hand over the clothing that still covered him. “Can I see you?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he gave a musical laugh and his clothes melted away.

“Easy indeed,” she gave a nervous giggle as she looked down the line of his naked body. “That shouldn’t be possible.” She said softly, running her fingers along his shoulder, touching the soft skin there.  His body was long and lean, muscular but not the sort one got from strength training, it was the body of a runner, a swimmer, a dancer. He was beautiful as he smiled down at her. Splaying a hand over her stomach he sent out a small ripple of magic over her skin and she saw little golden waves move across her skin, bringing pleasure with them. She let out a ragged breath and gripped his bicep to steady herself. 

“Keep going,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. Felix leaned down and put his lips to hers and let a trickle of his magic into her through them. It amplified the cozy warmth of his lips and the taste of strawberries that washed through her. She urged him to deepen the kiss and helped him shift until he lay half on top of her as he did. When she touched him, she felt like she couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get close enough. He ran his fingers through her hair, holding her head as he explored her mouth.

A shiver went through her as his tongue tangled with hers and he slid a knee between her thighs. Her hands pressed against his back, feeling his muscles move under his soft skin. Somehow he managed to feel warm and hard and soft all at once under her touch. His magic intoxicated her, leaving her mind slowed and making the world have a pull and drag like water around her. She wanted more.

“Can we…,” she fidgeted, squeezing her thighs around his and hoping that would get her desire across.

“Are you sure you want to?” He ran a hand down her side to her waist. “I can make you feel good even if we don’t go all the way.” 

“But I want to,” she nodded emphatically. If this was a dream she wanted to have this moment. If it wasn’t a dream, she wanted to feel like this, take as much of this moment with her for as long as she could remember it. “Please touch me.”

“Of course,” he giggled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll touch you as much as you desire.” His fingers played at the edge of her bra strap and he moved it slowly off her shoulder. He kissed along where it had been as his hand went to cup the soft mound of her breast. Everywhere his skin touched hers, golden sparkles followed behind.

Felix loved watching her reaction, the way goosebumps prickled along her skin when he touched her. The way his magic could flow and tickle along her skin was intriguing. Even with other fairies it hadn’t been like this. Sometimes their powers clashed, sometimes it fizzled, something that was always a great disappointment when you were otherwise compatible. But even with the best of experiences he had had before, they didn’t compare to how it felt to share it with her.

He reached behind her and undid the contraption that was her bra, discarding it off the side of the bed with a toss. Running the tips of two fingers over her from the notch in her collarbone down between her breasts and to the dip of her belly button. Her back arched and her muscles twitched under his touch. She looked so pretty like this.

“Can I take these off too?” He asked as he fingered the waistband of her panties. She nodded, lifting her hips to help him do it. Felix slid them down her hips and thighs, tossing them vaguely in the direction her bra had gone. With her now as naked as he was, he straddled her legs, sitting on his heels near her knees.

“If I said you were the prettiest thing in my forest would you believe me?” He asked, letting his eyes rake over her beneath him.

“No,” she admitted, moving her hands to cover herself.

“No, little one,” he leaned forward and entwined his fingers with hers and brought them to his lips. “Don’t hide. You are so beautiful to my eyes.”

“You’re too pretty to be believed,” she shook her head, pulling at him to ask him to lie down with her. He obliged and covered her body with his. A tingle went through him as so much of their bodies came into contact and he let out a gasp, as did she.

“Does it always feel this good for a fairy?” She asked as she moved her legs to cradle his hips.

“No, my magic seems to like you as much as I do,” He smiled. She smiled back and brushed his lavender bangs off his forehead. His lips returned to hers, giving them ravenous kisses as his hunger filled his skin. He moved his lips over her cheek and down her throat, making a slow sojourn down her body. He sucked and licked along her collarbone, enjoying the thin and sensitive skin there. Next he moved to her breast, sucking one nipple into his mouth as his fingers pinched the other lightly.

“Felix,” she gasped, her hands gripping his hair lightly. “You feel like heaven.”

“My love, you are heaven,” he replied, kissing along the underside of her breast and down her ribs. Eventually he found himself stretched out between her thighs, eager to explore her there. He placed little kisses on the inside of her thigh, enjoying the sparks he left in his wake. She was endlessly entertaining to touch and watch and enjoy for him.

He ran his tongue up her length tasting the moisture that had gathered there. She was sweet and salty to his taste buds, the perfect mix of intoxicating flavors. Her back arched under his touch and he spread her thighs wider. He watched her as he licked and sucked at her, loving how she reacted to him. She looked beautiful squirming under his ministrations. 

Warm sensations enveloped her as her pleasure increased. It built inside her like a slowly lapping tide, curling against the inside of her body. Her hands reached for his as she could feel it rising and threatening to drown her with desire. He held her, a touch stone in a storm as she came apart underneath him. Moving up to lie beside her again, he admired her expression and how much she looked like she belonged here like this.

“I want to keep you,” he sighed, tracing the line of her features with his eyes. “But I can’t make that choice for you.”

“What if I decide to stay?” She asked, ready to say she would already.

“Don’t decide now,” he shook his head gently, cocooning them both in the soft blankets as he moved on top of her. “For now, just be with me.” He kissed her and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Let’s just have this now.”

She nodded and said nothing else as he slid himself inside her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, taking in the scent of her. It was as perfect a moment as he had ever had, sharing the warmth of their bodies, a mingling of their souls. They made love until they were both exhausted, falling into a contented slumber in the secret of his tree.

Hours later when they awoke, Felix helped her dress and walked with her to the edge of his circle. He wanted to keep her, to share the joys of his forest with her and perhaps he still would, but he would not do it by trickery. He could, and many of his kind did, but he loved the kindness of her soul too much to win it through deceit.

“Here,” he took one of her hands in his, pressing it between his two and sending a bit of magic through it. “Take some time to think, but if you choose to return, this will let you find me again.” When he drew his hand back, there was a mark on her palm that looked like a faint gray crescent moon. “If you choose to come back to me, I will share all I have with you; my forest, my magic, my heart. But if you come there is no going back, if you become part of my world you cannot go back to what you were, so think carefully on this choice. I would understand if you chose not to come back.”

“I don’t want to go,” She sighed. “If I go, I’m afraid this will all have been a dream. Or if it isn’t, what if I forget?”

“You won’t forget,” Felix promised, pointing to the mark on her hand. “This will stay on you, at least for a little while and I promise I’m not a dream.”

“Can I come back tomorrow?” She asked hopefully.

“Perhaps wait a little longer,” he laughed, cupping her cheek. “Come back in a week, find me then. Be careful going home, it's starting to get dark.” She nodded, stepping out of the circle of mushrooms to suddenly find herself alone in a forest that felt different than it had just a few moments before. She scurried down the path that led back home, leaving a piece of herself behind.

It had been a week and waiting so long had been a daily fight. The face of Felix haunted her dreams and her waking hours. She had spent much of the first few days sketching it in the hopes that it would give her some peace; exorcise it from her mind. But somehow she couldn’t capture just the right sparkle in his gaze, or the glint of his freckles in the glow of the light. She spent pages and pages sketching it, painting it, but could not get the memories on the paper. The results were beautiful, some of the best she had ever done of a person, her friends assured her, but she knew it wasn’t right.

At night she lay in bed, touching the mark he had left on her, willing him to hear her thoughts so that he would remember her too. What if he forgets me? She wondered to herself. What if he doesn’t want me back? I never should have gone. She sighed and turned over in her bed, struggling for sleep to take her.

Just three more days…

Just two now…

Tomorrow!

In the morning she had sat at her desk, penning a few notes to her friends and family in the hopes that it would at least make them worry less. She laid the envelopes on her bed, under the edge of her pillow, partially hiding them from sight. If she couldn’t find him again she would have time to destroy them before anyone would take note of them or even that she had been gone. She took with her a few photos, the necklace she had inherited from her grandmother, and the little music box her father had given her as a child.

She closed the door and locked it, slipping her keys into her pocket. Her feet walked her back to that place without a thought. She found the woods and the little half hidden trail that had teased her mind for last week. The wind blew through the mostly empty branches of the fall trees as milky light filtered down to the forest floor. The sound of her footsteps grew more faint as the visible path disappeared, becoming moss and the litter of fallen leaves.

She knew she must be getting closer as the forest began to grow quieter around her. She looked for the incline and the circle of mushrooms she knew must be near as she rubbed the mark on the palm of her hand.

“Felix,” she whispered under her breath, the fear she would not find him again welling up in her chest. She closed her eyes and said his name quietly, half a prayer, half a question. When she opened her eyes, before her floated a small orange ball of light that pulsed slowly as it floated just a little ahead of her. Her feet followed it without a second thought, slowly making her way through the last tangle of branches before she finally saw it.

“Felix, are you here?” She asked, carefully getting nearer his fairy circle.

“You came back,” his voice floated out to her a moment before he stepped out in front of her. “I had hoped you would, but…”

“Of course,” she extended her hand with the little crescent to him, taking those last few steps up to the line of mushrooms.

“Come inside, let me give you a little something to eat,” Felix offered with a smile.

Masterlist

[astraeagreengrass]

The Queen's Husband [4/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 4.909

Warnings: There's smut on the second half - don't read if you're under 18! English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: Grab your dresses and your tiaras - we're going to a royal wedding! This is my first time writing smut and it took me such a long time to make it somewhat decent (if anyone has any tips on how to write better smut, please help a friend out). And although it's pretty tame and lame, keep away from the last part if you're under 18. As always, thank you to every one who's been following this story - it turned out to be so much more than I was expecting and I am forever grateful to anyone who takes some time off their day to let me know their thoughts ♡

Chapter four moodboard

Series masterlist

My masterlist

You and Captain Rogers were married on the first Sunday of October.

The bright summer months - mystical days when your relationship bloomed like flowers under warm sunlight - made way for fall. The air was growing colder and, early in the morning, you could see a white fog settling over Albeon, until the last remnants of the mid-year sun chased it away.

October’s arrival and the eminence of your wedding brought chills to your spine that had nothing to do with autumn. Everything was changing - your life, your kingdom, your heart. Outside the Keep’s walls, the streets were decorated with colorful flags, ribbons and balloons. Overnight, a group of street artists painted Main Street’s cobblestones with beautiful intricate chalk drawings of the most important moments of your reign. You’d never seen the capital - or Ergona, actually - in such high spirits.

To Lord Fury’s outrage, you ordered the Keep’s gates to be open on the wedding day. You simply turned your back on him as he berated about the dangers of letting the common folk in. Fury couldn’t change your mind - these people were your family. You may have growing affections for your groom, but you were walking down the aisle for them.

If they couldn’t see your sacrifices, may them at least know your love.

In the throne room, where the ceremony would take place, another chair sat on the dais. It was made of mahogany wood with gold accents, red velvet cushions and precious gems encrusted in it’s legs, armrests and back. The new throne was identical to the old one, albeit some five hundred years younger. It was a joint present from Lord Stark, the richest man in Ergona and your former guardian, and the Duke of Arvenia, Steve’s father: twin thrones to symbolize equal rulers, a first in your country’s history.

Steve himself said nothing when he first laid eyes on his throne. He kept a blank, neutral expression as his gaze quickly assessed the furniture, as if making mental inventory. He stiffly thanked Lord Stark and his father, before bowing to you and taking his leave, Sir Barnes hot on his heels.

Later that night, wrapped in the safe embrace of his arms, you asked him:

“Did you not like your throne?”

Steve sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You were in your usual spot outside your chambers, three nights before the wedding and his coronation. Your moments alone were even more sacred now that you had found the courage to kiss him. It was physically painful to be apart from him during the day, counting down the seconds until you could shed the heavy cloak of duty and just be young and enamored. Steve’s courtship was bolder, more passionate. He’d kiss you back with such devotion it’d leave your head spinning.

“It’s not that” he replied. “I’m just afraid I can’t be what you need. And what Ergona needs.”

You were so worried overthinking the endless possibilities regarding your union that you never stopped to wonder how Steve was faring. He was quick to accept your proposal - more concerned about the legitimacy of your request than the weight of it. And sure, he was no ordinary man, but maybe the prospect of becoming king was taking its toll on him. You’d been trained for your role for eighteen years, while Steve barely had four months to prepare.

“Do you regret our engagement?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “Of course not! I would never. It’s just… Overwhelming, I guess.”

He bit his lip, as if the pain of teeth on skin could bring him the right words.

“I don’t want to say I was never scared while in battle, because I was. I’ve felt the fear of dying, but I embraced it. I embraced the possibility of not coming back from war, of perishing at the enemy’s hand. I supposed that what made me a good soldier - embracing your fears makes it look as if you don’t have them, even if you’re terrified. But what I’m feeling now… I can hardly understand it.”

“If I failed in battle, it would mean my death and that was it. But if I fail as a king, my mistake will live on and on in the lives of all of those in Ergona who will suffer it’s consequences. It’s terrifying.”

“How do you do it?” he begged. “Please help me be the king you and our country deserve.”

Steve Rogers was a good man. And you were falling desperately in love with him.

You saw him very little after that. You aunt Virginia, Duchess of Foghar, and your cousin Morgan arrived from the East, taking up most of your free time. Morgan insisted on sleeping with you, which prevented Steve from lingering at you door, but you didn’t have it in your to break the little girl’s heart. Instead, on your last evening as a maiden, the two of you built a pillow fort and cast shadows in the wall, spinning a fantastic tale of lovers and dragons and a king and queen who ruled Ergona.

Your bridal gown was a magnificent alabaster piece made of thick fabric, with long sleeves, elongated neck and a train. Mother-of-pearl buttons fastened it to your front and silver embroidery drew intricate patterns from hem to shoulders, which were covered by thick a fur shawl. It was a garment made for heavy winter, not autumn, but you insisted on it since it was your mother’s wedding dress. The only addition were the mother-of-pearl clasps, shaped like stars - a nod to Steve’s shield.

It was sweltering hot inside the antechamber where you waited. A set of double doors kept you from the throne room, your future husband and what appeared to be the entire kingdom. You were never one to be nervous with large crowds - you couldn’t - a mask of nonchalance couldn't hold stop Sir Samuel Wilson, Captain of the Queen’s Guard, who stood by the entryway, from noticing your fingers twitching.

“Are you having second thoughts, Your Grace?” he joked. “I can’t get you out of here, just say the word.”

You snickered. Captain Wilson was one the nicest, most genuine people you knew. Your first act as a queen was to knight him - your childhood best friend from Foghar, who followed you all the way to Albeon because “someone has to look after your royal ass.”

“You can’t help me this time, Sam” you sighed.

“Don’t be dramatic. Steve’s a good guy, Y/N” he reasoned. “You chose well.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

Sam raised one eyebrow.

“I thought you shouldn’t lie when you’re wearing that” he pointed to the crown atop your head, a heavy adornment made of white gold and diamonds. “You have feelings for Steve, which makes you anxious because you hate it when you can't control things."

Before you could come up with a witty response to Sam's very accurate conjecture, Lord Stark arrived, your bouquet in hands - edelweiss for courage, baby’s breath for purity and myrtle for good luck and love in your marriage. Sam excused himself to give you and your uncle some privacy, as well as announce to the grand hall the bride’s upcoming entrance.

Lord Stark cleared his throat.

“You look beautiful, kid” he praised, brown eyes glistening with the tears he was trying to hold back. “Are you ready to do this?”

“Not if you cry” you cooed, gently swiping your thumb on his under eye. His skin was thinning, marked by some wrinkles that weren’t there when you first found yourself in this antechamber. Albeon had taken a heavy toll on your uncle, but not once had he complained.

“I can’t help it” Uncle Tony shrugged. “You’re my oldest daughter, it doesn’t matter what biology says. And I’m happy for you - I’m just crying because that’s what dads do, I suppose.”

Very carefully, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was hard to move your head around with the crown. It’s weight forced you to stand still and look ahead in perfectly regal posture. Which was how you walked down the Dragon’s Keep throne room, left arm linked to your uncle’s, as soon as the double doors opened.

On nights you couldn’t sleep you’d often find yourself here, in this wide room built by your ancestors to celebrate their victories and reinforce their rule. It was fairly simple for a throne room - Asgard’s throne room, for instance, was much more opulent - with few ornaments apart from the regular flags and traditional marble arches. It’s grandeur was in the sheer size of it and the glass dome that reflected sunlight in thousands of colors, all of which painted your gown as you made your way to Steve, who stood broad-shouldered at the foot of the dais.

He was wearing his military garb, composed of dark blue jacket and white breeches. The jacket was adorned with all the medals he'd received during his relatively short but immensely successful career. Sir Barnes was on his left as the best man, wearing red, watching with a satisfied, happy smirk as Uncle Tony placed your hand in Steve’s.

Presiding the ceremony was The Ancient One, a tall, bald woman of unknown age who was the leader of the Church of Ergona. The only occasion she left the sacred city of Kamar-Taj was to celebrate royal weddings and coronations in Albeon. Beside her were Master Wong, Master Mordo and Lord Strange, himself a master of the unseen arts too.

She married you first. Took your joined hands and laced them together in golden cloth, as you and Steve recited vows of love, trust and respect. It was fairly simple, not much different that it would’ve been if you were a commoner couple. After brief twenty minutes or so, The Ancient One declared you husband and wife.

There was no kiss - your first duty as a wife held precedence over it. From behind Steve, Lord Strange came with the crown and Master Wong with the State Sword.

Steve knelt before you, his gaze locked on yours. With clammy palms, you took the State Sword, gently placing it on his right shoulder.

“Do you solemnly promise to govern the people of the Kingdom of Ergona, according to its respective laws and customs?”

“I do.”

“Do you solemnly promise to be guided by justice and mercy in all of your tasks and doings, placing your people’s need before your own even in the darkest hours?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to protect your people from their enemies, even if it means waging war?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to be fair in your decisions and respectful in your actions, making no distinctions between citizens?”

“I do.”

The tip of the sword weighed like thousand of bricks on Steve’s shoulder, but nothing compared to the golden crown you placed on his head. It was burdensome, soul-crushing - and he'd never felt closer to you.

No one but him noticed the way your hands lingered on the sides of his face or your soft smile when you announced:

“Rise, Steven, King of Ergona.”

The throne room erupted in cheers.

After the feast, Natasha and Wanda prepared you for your wedding night. Your corset was loosened, your skirts removed, your jewelry stored away. Natasha delicately rubbed lavender scented oil on your pulse points while Wanda brushed your hair. A new nightgown was laid on the bed: made of the purest white linen, with lace trimmings and buttons down the front. The perfect look for a virgin queen on her nuptials.

The wedding feast had been a success. Guests from lands near and far enjoyed a decadent dinner of the likes your halls hadn’t seen in a long time, courtesy of Anthony Stark, the Duke of Foghar, to celebrate the nuptials of his beloved niece. Talented musicians entertained the guests, which included the Wakandan royal family and Steve’s cousins, the Princes of Asgard. You and the new King were lavished with the most incredible gifts - gems, tapestries and even horses. All the while, your hand clasped his tightly. His wedding band dug into your palm, but the sharp sting of it was reassuring.

Whatever happened from now on, you were not alone anymore.

There was a brief knock on the door before your aunt Virginia swiftly walked in.

“The King is on his way” she announced as she made her way to you. “Are you ready for this?”

Worry creased her eyebrows, hardening her beautiful face. Here was the woman who raised you as her own - when your mother perished and your father sent you away, Virginia Stark gave you all the love her heart could muster. While your uncle was your advisor and therefore had a duty to aid your rule, your aunt was the hand on your back, ready to offer you her comforts when the weight of the crown was too much.

She couldn’t help your carry it, but now, with the arrival of a man that could, she worried not for the Queen, but for the young woman at the verge of consummating her marriage.

“Please say something” Natasha pleaded as she tugged on your sleeve. She was wearing a beautiful ball gown of forest green which complimented her hair perfectly.

“This must happen” you answered as if you were speaking to your subjects and not the people who knew you best. “I’m sure he will be… Kind.”

Natasha snorted but before she could say anything another knock echoed in the room, louder and more persistent this time. You nodded at Wanda, who opened it, revealing Steve.

“Ladies. My Queen” he greeted at the threshold. From behind him you could see the silhouette of your uncle Tony.

None of the women moved until you commanded:

“Please leave us.”

Bowing to you and then to Steve, the women left the room. When Wanda closed the door behind the King, she sent you a reassuring smile.

You remained still in front of the huge four-poster bed, watching as your new husband slowly made his way inside your room. The windows were closed with pale pink velvet drapes matching the seating in the furniture. During the day they offered the most beautiful view of the gardens, but tonight no one but you and Steve would be witness to whatever took place.

The soft yellow glow of the candles cast shadows on his beautiful face. He’d always been incredibly handsome and yet you were amazed by how striking he looked now: clothes a little rumpled, lips wine stained and eyes blown wide and dark. A fading red line on his forehead from where his crown had been all now.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight” he said and you knew he meant it.

He was standing right in front of you now, although five feet apart. The distance between you felt as big as the distance between the Earth and the Moon, nothing but gravitational pull holding you still.

“I’m not scared” your voice declared, chin held high.

Steve laughed, so softly it felt like a breeze rustling the petals of the rose courtyard.

“I don’t think anything could scare you” he smiled. “But I’d hate for you to regret this.”

Steve loved you. He truly did loved you.

You’d believed his words when he said them. Knowing him to be truthful and honest, you believed his declaration, even if the meaning of it was incomprehensible for you then.  You’d know the love of family and the love of friends, but never the sweet, selfless love of a lover, and you honestly never thought you would. But then Steve came like a hurricane, unabashedly storming into your life. Your feelings - neat organized boxes you kept in a imaginary shelf - were scrambled and confused, drowning you in a cerulean sea of bewilderment.

You trusted your body: the aguish you felt when he was away, the incessant fluttering in your stomach when he was near.  The heat that took over your veins and crumbled your defenses.

You felt his care in your skin. You saw it, in the green shades of his blue eyes. It was there, visible for only you in candlelight. When morning came maybe you wouldn’t see it again and you’d wonder if it was even real or just your young mind playing tricks. But tonight maybe, maybe, you could let him love you properly.

“Then I guess you should make me not regret it.”

His steps towards you were slow and measured. His boots made little sound on the wooden floor, but the wait was so agonizing you swore they thumped to the rhythm of your heartbeat. When he finally reached you, chest to chest and feet to feet, Steve took your chin in his hands, tilting your head so your eyes could meet.

The move was just like the first time, but the kiss was anything but. Steve’s lips were familiar now, safe territory where you could get lost in for hours. Your tongue had traced its shape and your teeth had pulled on it’s skin. You learned that a kiss was so much more than a press of mouths. There was a lot that could be soundlessly said: “I need you”, “Thank you for being here”, “I’m scared”, “I adore you”.

Your husband’s hands were on your hips, holding and squeezing with fervor. You threw you head back when he started kissing your neck, lips and beard trailing fire on the column of your throat. You barely held your gasp when he squeezed your bum.

“No,” he gruffed. “Let me hear you.”

Tentative fingers tangled in Steve’s hair, their grip tightening as his hands wandered further. Kissing him was the most divine delirium. The otherwise soft fabric of your nightdress now felt scratchy as it shielded your nudity. Even the rich velvet of his waistcoat couldn’t compare to the stroke of his skin.

You were panting heavily when Steve touched your foreheads, eyes glazed and lips plumped. You thought you’d gotten pretty good at reading him these past months - how the hues on his irises hinted at a thousand words he sometimes wouldn't say. He was a quiet one, your husband. He saved his voice for when it was necessary, not just to join the superfluous stream of words you sometimes were victim to. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, hoarse and breathless and tantalizing.

You answered unbuttoning the first button on his waistcoat, then the second and third. He didn’t stop it when you pushed it off his broad shoulders and to the floor and then moved on to his tunic. Steve’s torso was a masterpiece of solid muscles under tanned skin. Some faded scars littered the expanse of it, souvenirs from battles past, but you thought they worked on reminding you he was real.

Carefully, you placed a kiss in the center on his left shoulder blade. His skin was warm and tasted salty, but you liked it. Under your palm, Steve’s heart raced.

“Y/N?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Can I remove your nightdress?”

You nodded, cheeks pressed to his chest so you could ground yourself in his heartbeat. Steve pecked you softly before kneeling.

“You have me on my knees, my Queen” he professed. “I will cherish you and love you until the end of my days.”

You shivered when he gently took your left foot in his hands, laying a kiss to your ankle. Slowly, his hands and lips moved upwards, trailing your calf, knee and thigh. Out of all of Natasha’s explanations about eroticism, she never mentioned the delirious feeling of a man’s beard touching skin - but then again, you were very fond of Steve’s beard.

When he reached your hip, the nightdress was sitting sideways in your body, covering everything but your leg. A hand went to Steve’s shoulder to steady yourself as he bit your hip bone. Everything was hot, as if the whole room was aflame. Blue eyes locked with yours before he lifted the rest of the fabric, rising as he revealed your body.

It was a strange sensation, sharing your nudity with someone. Of course you’d been nude in Wanda’s presence as she bathed you, or your aunt’s, or even as doctor’s, but it never felt so vulnerable. You wanted your body to be appreciated and desired - for Steve to bask in it the same way your were basking in his, but you couldn't help the shame and insecurity.

He saw the change in your demeanor, how your shoulders tensed and your arms moved to cover your middle section. Steve was hard as a rock, his erection straining his trousers in a terribly uncomfortable way. It wasn't his first time, but no past experience could compare to the reality of finally being with you, his beloved, whom he loved from afar for so long.

He hugged you, just like you did that night when he confessed his fears of ascending to the throne, and you relaxed. Your chest against his was heavenly, and your heartbeats harmonized as if all they ever needed was to touch each other through the skin.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered. “I’m so happy. Thank you for marrying me.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” you joked.

He laughed and it was irresistible, so you kissed him again.

Cautiously, his fingers caressed your spine, sensually gazing over your bum and reached the back of your thigh. Sometime during the night - while you were fervently kissing him or trying not to faint, perhaps - you failed to notice how your intimacy was progressively getting wetter. Steve’s touch startled you, making you jump in his arms. He immediately removed his hand and apologized.

“I’m sorry, is this too much? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, no, no” you stuttered. “It was just sudden. But it felt… Good.”

Gods, what a shame. If only there was a guide on how to lose your virginity without making a complete mess of yourself!

“Should we lay down?” Steve suggested, an amused smirk on the corner of his mouth.

“Please.”

You swiftly sat on the bed, pulling on some furs to cover your modesty. Steve stood, hands on his waist as he watched his bride try to hide her inexperience. He wasn’t surprised - you were taught any kind of imperfection was a sign of weakness. Over the years, you learned of hundreds of different ways to hide your inabilities until you eventually overcame them. It was the way of your world. He had hoped to break down these barriers during your courtship, but time wasn’t on his side. It would be his lifelong mission to cherish you and your imperfections, no matter how big they may seem to you.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to disappoint you, I’ll try to…”

“Take off my trousers” he interrupted your rambling.

“What?”

“Take off my trousers, Y/N.”

Attentively, as if fondling a bird, your hands moved to the front of his breeches. He look regal, almost imperial, even with chest bare of and hair mussed - and you, his disconcerted queen who could barely undo the fastings. It was comical, really, how you gawked at his cock when it sprung free. There was no way that would fit inside you.

“Now, could you please lay down?” Steve asked softly. It was a bit odd to guide you - he was used to you holding the power and making the decisions, not the other way around. Yet his manhood twitched at the sight of you obeying him and his heart soared knowing you trusted him enough to follow his lead.

You lowered your head on the pillows, body stiff as a board stretched on the rest of the bed. Steve laid on his elbows by your side and gravity made the front strands of his hair hang by his forehead - your angel on Earth.

“Will you let me touch you?” he murmured. “I promise I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

You nodded, hypnotized by him, naked in your bed. Steve pecked your lips, your chin, your jaw and moved to your neck. Your feet started dragging the comforter on their own accord as he showered your throat with tiny bites and teasing licks, as if you were a delicacy he was just dying to taste. Your breath hitched when he reached you collarbone and sternum. His right hand took one breast as he would a petal, caressing it with the pad of his thumb.

You lost it when he took a nipple in his mouth, the soft skin peddling as he licked it. Steve decided he’d fight a thousand wars just to hear your moan like that.

His member was pressed to your stomach and you tentatively reached for it. It felt like iron and velvet at the same time. Your husband hissed at your touch, pulling your nipple from his mouth as he groaned your name.

“Did that hurt?” you asked.

“In the best possible way” he was so disheveled and it was glorious. Before you could let go of his cock, Steve wrapped his hand around yours and his member, his wrist tugging them up and down the hardness.

His sounds urged you on as he resumed his assault on your chest. He grunted particularly teasingly when the hand that was on not caressing him tugged his blonde strands.

Gingerly, his fingers found the apex of your thighs again. Slowly he dragged them across your labia, as if memorizing your intimacy with his digits. His thumb found your clit and he rubbed figure eights on it, making your body go lax on the mattress.

“Steve…” you whined, and he drunk from your desperate sounds.

It didn’t take long for you to come with two of his fingers inside you. You felt so full and so good and so intoxicated by his smell and presence. It was an out of body experience - reaching higher and higher until you just soared, Steve as your guide. As for him, he had the smuggest smile on his face as he watched you fall apart.

Your vision was blurry as he hovered over you, the picture of perfection, and kissed you again. Involuntarily, as if they knew that’s what they should do, your legs opened to him, and his hips locked to yours.

“May I?” he whispered right as you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance.

“Yes.”

It hurt like hell. As slow and gentle as Steve was, you couldn’t help the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes and the colorful expletives you yelled at him.

You both breathed in relief when he was fully sheathed in. His shoulders were red and dotted with half-moon marks from your nails and the muscles on his arms and back were tensed from sheer pleasure. It left a bad taste in his mouth - fucking you shouldn’t feel as divine as it did when you couldn’t feel it. But God almighty, the way your cunt squeezed him…

Slowly, he started moving, taking the salt of your tears with his lips and turning them into delight. Gradually, your whimpers turned to moans as you lost yourself to this new, euphoric feeling. Your right leg, the one he so fervently adored just moments prior, was hooked around his hips. A bead of sweat made its way down his forehead and you wanted to lick it and taste it, take it from him the way he was taking from you.

But it felt so much more than that. He was taking just as much as he was giving - your hands clasped together in the mattress was an anchor, a portal channeling your souls. His became yours and yours became his.

Steve came exclaiming your name, his semen leaking from your body to the mattress. It was a strange victory, to have him sweating and struggling to breathe, but you rejoiced in it anyway. Despite the ache between in your legs, you longed to do it again.

Your husband rolled over, collapsing next to you on the bed. He took your palm, still entwined with his, and kissed it. Dozens of kisses had been shared tonight, but mayhaps that was the most meaningful.

“Are you well?” he asked. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine” you assured him, and you were. The discomfort would fade, but this newfound happiness would stay. Not from sex, but from sharing. He was in your blood now - your husband, King and partner.

You tugged his forearm when he rose.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you a warm cloth” he explained.

“Stay” you pleaded. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulled you to his embrace, limbs tangling and hearts meeting under the canopy.

“I love you, Y/N” he said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Your mouth opened on instinct, but your throat was raw. You wanted him to know that you knew and you believed. You wanted him to be sure that you'd meet him there, even if your steps were slow and sometimes unsure. The need to assure him that you were not on the same page yet, but yours was turning was vital - however unnecessary. Before you could utter anything, his thumb was on your lips, shushing you.

“I know you can’t say it back yet, but it’s fine. We have time.”

On the first Sunday of October, Captain Rogers became the Queen’s husband - and Steve became the keeper of your heart.

[imjustalonesomewriteblr]

Prologue

Word Count: 2,071

Warnings: Mild cursing, I forgot to take people’s advice so this chapter is sort of wordy and rambles on.

Half a week behind schedule, Chapter One is finally here and it has not been proofread! It’s basically just the volunteers having conversation by the lake, but there is some information and foreshadowing/symbolism (maybe? I’m bad at foreshadowing/symbolism) that’s worth knowing!

If a stranger had looked at the former guesthouse’s back porch that Tuesday evening, they would have thought they were looking at a 1900s costume party.

Léonie was in her usual spot atop the tree branch that hung over the porch. She had the best view of the lake from the tree and her sketchpad laid perfectly against the main trunk. Her yellow dress was worn down from the hours she spent perched in the tree and the white dots were barely distinguishable from the yellow fabric.

“I don’t see why you don’t just wear pants,” Florette mumbled, taking a sip of the weak beer Mr. Steinberg had bought her. Florette was the only one that was not dressed as if she was back home. Instead of the dainty dresses of the 1940s, she wore black leggings, a flannel shirt, and tennis shoes with worn-out soles. Sunglasses failed to cover the scar on her left eye. She had had it for a while now, but she never failed to be self-conscious of it. Florette was situated on an old foldout chair under Léonie’s tree. Danilo had found the chair in the lake one day and they had cleaned it as best they could. They weren’t very good upholsterers, though, so the chair could not support anyone but Florette.

“I like dresses,” Léonie said, “They are more comfortable.”

“You look like a sissy, Leo,” Florette chuckled to herself.

“Thank you, Florette,” Léonie said, “You look nice, too.”

“I never said you don’t look nice. I said you look like a sissy.”

“This is why no boys liked you,” Léonie returned to her drawing.

“The boys didn’t like me cause I didn’t like them,” Florette took a swig of her beer and leaned back in her chair. She looked over to Danilo and Reese, who were sitting on the edge of the patio talking, “What are they speaking this time?”

Léonie listened for a moment before responding, “Chinese.”

“Huh,” Florette said.

Danilo and Reese were the youngest out of the group at 54 and 57, respectively. This created a unique bond between them, one Léonie and Florette didn’t have, so they spent most of their time together. The only problem with their friendship was that Danilo hardly spoke English and Reese didn’t speak Italian. In the end, Danilo resorted to learning Chinese, but Reese eventually picked up Italian.

“Why can’t they just speak English and let us into their conversations?” Florette watched them talk, jealous of their uncanny ability to get along. Léonie never agreed with her unless they were talking about how terrible their lives were. All four of them agreed on that.

“Well, do they want us hearing their conversations?”

“I don’t know, I can’t understand them, Leo!” Florette exclaimed, “If I can learn English, and you can learn English, then they can, too.”

“Reese already spoke English.”

“Danilo, then! He’s smart, I guess, smarter than me.”

“That’s not a very high bar to reach,” Léonie chuckled to herself.

“Not a very high bar to r- Hey!” Florette tossed her now empty bottle to the side.

There was a moment of silence, besides for Danilo and Reese’s chatter. Léonie liked the silence, especially when she was on the patio. It reminded her of her home with Marcel, where they would sit in their own garden, watching the sun go down as their dogs ran around in the grass. Léonie had forgotten the sound of Marcel’s voice and the feeling of his hand in hers over the years, but she had never forgotten the memories that they shared. 

Florette, on the other hand, hated silence. Every time it was quiet, it consumed her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Recently, her thoughts weren’t very friendly to her. When she was sleeping, her thoughts showered her with nightmares about William and the other volunteers who had met their demise. During the day, they were hardly any better. It seemed like everything reminded her of her friends. 

“Stupid Danilo and his coats,” Florette crossed her arms, “Why does he always have to wear those dumb long coats?”

“Why do you judge him?” Léonie didn’t take her focus off her drawing. It was coming together now and she thought she might be able to color it tomorrow. If only she had something to color it in with.

“It’s at least twenty degrees out, he doesn’t need it.”

“Celcius?”

“No, Kelvin,” Florette rolled her eyes, “Of course Celsius!”

“I was simply asking.”

They stopped talking for a moment before Florette called out, “Danilo!”

The man turned his head to look at Florette. When Danilo had first come to the Assembly, Florette had had a hard time believing he was 54. Unlike Léonie, William, and Joona, who Florette was able to guess how old they were pretty well, Danilo’s face was almost timeless. His face was free of blemishes, which Florette envied more than anything else, and his eyes sparkled like cassiterite. The long, brown coat complimented 

“Sì?”

“Why do you always wear that coat?”

Danilo looked back at Reese, who provided a translation, “Hanno chiesto perché indossi sempre quel cappotto.”

“Oh,” Danilo said, “It’s.. nice? Sì, nice.”

Florette scoffed, “It’s, like, twenty degrees. You don’t need such a long coat.”

“Florette, stop,” Léonie whispered, but Florette ignored her.

“Florette ha detto che ci sono circa venti gradi. Non ne hai bisogno. Che stronza,” Reese glared at Florette as she repeated it.

“It looks nice,” Danilo stated, “and.. confortevole.”

“-and comfortable.” Reese nodded.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Rude.” Reese said and then she turned around and continued their conversation.

“She says I’m rude when all I did was ask him, not even her, a question.”

“Uh-huh.” Léonie started to draw the last branch on the tree in her drawing. Léonie had learned that, sometimes, it was better to let Florette talk then try to reason with her. She continued drawing as Florette ranted about little, unimportant things. Léonie tuned her out as best she could and returned to her own thoughts.

This would be her one hundred and eighty-second drawing since she had “volunteered” for the Assembly. She would hardly call it volunteering: she was lied to, taken without warning, and brought into a new and unusual world, but despite this, she tried not to dwell on it. Léonie had seen more people, more friends, die than Florette, but she handled it much better.

Today she was trying to draw her old yard from memory. It was hard. The trees tended to blend together into green mush and she had forgotten the color of her dogs. Léonie had tried to sketch Marcel and her in the foreground, but failed and drew poppies in their place. She had Danilo to thank for that, who had taught her all about the colors and shapes of flowers. One thing Léonie did remember was that they had the ugliest Edelweiss in their garden, so she usually replaced them with other flowers.

“Hey, Léonie,” Florette said suddenly.

“Yes?”

“You do the talking.”

“What are you t-” Léonie understood why Florette didn’t want to talk when she looked in the same direction as her. Walking towards them, manilla folders in hand, was Mr. Johnson himself. Mr. Johnson rarely made an appearance at their little home anymore (if you could even call it that), so Léonie understood why Reese looked so shocked.

“Good evening, Ms. Thälmann!” Mr. Johnson smiled, nodding politely at Léonie and readjusting his blonde hair, “Hello Reese, Danilo, Florette.”

The former three smiled back at him. Florette merely grunted in response.

“How can we help you, Mr. Johnson?” Léonie put her pencil down and positioned herself so that she faced him.

“I’ve come to tell you that the meeting tomorrow has been rescheduled so that it’s an hour earlier. I was able to grab your notes so you could prepare.”

Florette scoffed as Mr. Johnson handed her her manilla folder, “So you guys have finally decided to take away our one day to sleep in an hour.”

“We sleep in on weekends,” Reese replied, then mumbled a small “thank you” as Mr. Johnson handed her a folder.

“Besides those!” Florette exclaimed, “What is so important that you need to take away our hour of sleep anyways?!”

“That’s for the Assembly to know. You don’t need to, Miss. Travere,” Mr. Johnson responded calmly.

“Oh, so we’re not part of the Assembly now?”

“Florette, be quiet,” Reese flipped through her own folder. There were at least twelve pages explaining her assignment, which she moved over to view the other things. Instead, she examined the photos and fake identification in the folder. One was a family photo of an older couple, their daughter, and younger son, who was exactly Reese’s age. There was little note on the mother, but a whole page was dedicated to the father, whom she assumed was her target.

“Shut up, Reese,” Florette said, “Lemme guess, Xavier-”

“Mr. Johnson,” Léonie corrected her, “Be polite.”

“Who cares, Leo. Anyways, Xavier, what is it this time? World War III? Cause I don’t care if it is. I really don’t.”

Mr. Johnson sighed, “You’ll be informed sometime within the next couple days. Mr. Steinberg expects you all to be on your best behaviour tomorrow so the Assembly is not embarrassed.”

“You know us, Mr. Johnson, we’d never want to embarrass the Assembly,” Florette said, “That’d be horrible.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, Miss. Travere.”

“And I don’t appreciate you,” Florette stuck out her tongue at Mr. Johnson.

“Miss. Travere, do you realize that for the past five years the Assembly has fed, clothed, and housed you from our own pockets? Mr. Steinberg has graciously given you his former poolhouse, which he renovated to the highest standards,” Florette opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Johnson continued, “Don’t pull that ‘we were lied to and taken from our homes’ bullcrap with me, Miss. Travere. You volunteered to work for the Assembly. You signed a contract that stated that you will be working with government and military officials, traveling-”

“Not time traveling!” Reese interrupted. Mr. Johnson shot her a dirty glare.

“It said traveling as in general traveling. Anything could be included under that. Now, Miss. Travere, I suggest you be thankful for what we have given you in the past years. You’d be dead without us,” Mr. Johnson paused for a moment as if contemplating his next words, “just like your dear friend, William.”

Florette stayed situated in her chair, arms crossed, eyes beginning to water.

“Why did you say that, Mr. Johnson?” Léonie whispered. Reese stared daggers at him. Danilo, oblivious to most of the conversation, copied Reese’s glare.

“Because it’s true,” he responded quickly, “Good evening, everyone.”

Mr. Johnson turned around and left, leaving the group of volunteers in silence. No one moved except Danilo, who mindlessly flipped through his papers.

“I’m going to bed,” Florette mumbled, standing from her chair.

“Do not let Mr. Johnson get you down,” Léonie dropped from her spot in the tree.

“It’s Xavier.”

“Hm?”

“He’s younger than all of us, so we don’t have to call him ‘Mr. Johnson.’” Florette walked to the back door, empty bottle in hand.

“I understand that, Florette, but you need t-”

“I don’t need to do anything!” Florette’s voice cracked in the middle. Several tears were freely rolling down her face, reflecting the pale moonlight that was streaming through the trees, “He has no authority over me! I survived World War II, we both survived the Great Depression, you survived World War I! That absolute, ugly-ass loser barely survived the Coast Guard!”

A small chuckle came out of Reese. Léonie sighed for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Go to bed and sleep,” Léonie collected her supplies from the tree, “It will help.”

“I hope so,” Florette mumbled before disappearing behind the double doors.

“Mi sento male per lei,” Danilo stood from his place on the porch and brushed the stray leaves off of his lap.

“Siamo tutti nella stessa situazione. Non dispiacerti solo per lei .”

“What are you saying?” Léonie asked.

“Danilo said that he felt sorry for her,” Reese shrugged, “I just said that we’re all in the same, so it’s stupid to feel sorry only for her.”

Léonie shook her head. She couldn’t handle this anymore. She would kill for some food that wasn’t cheap or for a better bed, but now, all she wanted was silence.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 6

<- Chapter 5 | Chapter 7 ->

Summary:  First your mom’s a jerk. Then the Creature’s a jerk. You always try to be supportive and strong, because you know he was created in a lab 2 years ago and has never had any human contact except for physical beatings, but… You have your own emotional insecurities, too, and there’s only so much you can take.

The rooster crows, and you spring out of bed, rushing downstairs to do your chores with a vigor that alarmed, but pleased, your parents. Pulling on your coat in the frosty grey air, you hurry out to the barn before dawn breaks.

The dilapidated old structure looms like a ghost at the end of the pasture in the dark morning fog. The wooden door creaks as you push it open and slip inside. You discover the terrifying, ghoulish monster sleeping peacefully in the cow pen, curled up on the hay with Edelweiss and her newborn calf. A handful of barn cats have joined them, sharing the warmth.

A feeling builds up inside you like air filling a balloon, and escapes your mouth as a high-pitched squeal.

He jerks awake in an uncoordinated flailing of startled limbs, putting himself protectively between the calf and the noise. “S-sorry! You’re just so cute,” you gush, lowering your voice to a whisper. His eyes meet yours, the confusion leaves them, and he smiles.

As the previous night, he watches intently as you set about your chores. This time he asks you questions, and follows along with what you’re doing. You show him how to collect eggs, milk cows, distribute feed, and pull up water from the well—the latter he watches from a window, so he won’t be seen.

When finally you are done, you turn your attention to the creature. Your early start means there should be some extra time before you’ll be expected for breakfast, so you tend to his wound, and lay down in the hay with him. The animals graze peacefully outside in the purple-orange sunrise. He puts his arms around you, and you rest your head on his broad chest, watching them through the barn door, safe in the shadows.

“You are a gentle creature,” you yawn lazily, running your fingers through his hair, and tracing them over the uneven skin of his chest. For all he may look like a monster, he has the gentlest soul. But the comment makes his jaw clench, and shift uncomfortably.

“You don't know that,” he growls. “I am not. The power of death is in these hands.” He holds them out and turns them over. Each pale knuckle protrudes like the pommel of a dagger, attached to long, skeletal fingers. Like everything about him, they are macabre in appearance, but looking past that to the person they belong to, you can’t imagine them capable of any wrongdoing.

“No it's not—” you begin to protest, snatching his hands out of the air and clutching them to your chest. But then, you don’t really know anything about his past, and begin to wonder. “Have you...? Killed?”

He shakes his head, to your relief. “To take a life is to waste the most precious gift. But I have contemplated it, and I believe myself capable. Before we met, I was determined to wreak misery upon he who made me. Humanity hated and scorned me, and so I decided…” He trails off, breathing deeply. “I am certain, had you not found me, I would have committed unforgivable evils; such was the state I was in. I have already committed acts of destruction: I set fire to a cottage where my friends once lived. I destroyed out of spite that place where they abandoned me.”

“There’s no point worrying about what could have happened. You haven’t done anything wrong, that’s what matters. All you’ve done is... burn an empty cottage?” Wait, what? “I didn’t realize you had friends before. You always spoke as if you had been alone until now...” A dagger of jealousy pierces your heart. You push the feeling away, a pit of shame knotting your stomach—how dare you be upset you’re not his first and only friend?

His chest heaves a sharp laugh, but his eyes are sad. “I called them thus… In truth, I was their friend, but they were never mine” He tells you a story of how he took shelter in a low hovel attached to a cottage, from whence he could observe the lives of its occupants through the year, undetected. He learned to speak and read from watching them, and in return he secretly aided them however he could. They called him a good spirit, and he called them his protectors. The patriarch was a blind man, and after he had mastered speech, he sought to introduce himself when he was alone, that he might supplicate himself before him for aid, and earn his sympathy. “My plan nearly succeeded, but his family returned and drove me away. Despite all my efforts to help them, they could not stomach a ‘good spirit’ as hideous as I, and they fled in horror, never to return. Such is the fate of one wretched as I. In my life, only you have been able to tolerate me—I must assume by some anomaly in the shape of your skull which makes you immune to horror.”

His tale is just as sorrowful as you had expected, and you spent its telling squeezing and nuzzling him comfortingly. But there was one little thing that kept bothering you about it.

“Hang on—so you were spying on them for a whole year?! That’s kind of creepy, mon coeur.”

“What do you mean? I would be delighted to discover a secret friend had been watching over me this whole time.”

Your head hangs, shaking side to side. “Oh, my sweet innocent daemon.” You swivel around and squeeze both his cheeks between your hands. “Of course you would. All you’ve ever wanted is to not be alone. How could you understand what stalking means?”

“Stalking?”

“Most people find it disturbing—threatening—to be watched by a stranger without their knowledge. And for an entire year! They must have realized the mysterious spirit doing them favors was you the whole time! I’d have been creeped out too if that was how we met! They would have run away even if you were handsome as a prince!”

His face is a mask of confusion, frozen with mouth agape. After a moment of shocked silence, it falls in despair. “Then there is more than my appearance that drives my fellow-beings from me? I always believed, if not for my twisted form, I might be accepted—but there is more? My sensibilities, my utter ignorance of the simplest conventions of social existence will keep me from ever experiencing it!”

“Oh, no! Please don’t… I didn’t mean…!” Good job, you broke him. “That isn’t what I meant,” you plead, desperately stroking the side of his face, but his eyes are frozen in a faraway look, sinking under the weight of a new failure. “What I mean is, maybe it’s not as hopeless as you think! Maybe people aren’t afraid of you because of your immutable physical traits, but because of how you present yourself. And you can change that. I can teach you!”

His unfocused eyes refocus on you, silently curious about what you’re saying.

“So much of how we perceive others is based on presentation. Dress a man in rags and he will be suspected as a criminal, or in the finest silks and he is trusted as a gentleman, though he is the same man with the same soul.” You play with his hair, combing the tangles out of it with your fingers. “Perhaps if we can obtain clothing tailored to your size, if we can groom your hair to a gentlemanly fashion, and most importantly, find some way to introduce you which explains your odd figure… perhaps then, you would not arouse fear in those who see you.”

“Do you think so?” he asks, hopefully.

“We can try.”

He smiles, shaking off his melancholy. Two massive hands pull you firmly onto his lap. “You are all I want, anyway. I don’t care about anyone else.” His hand runs down the small of your back, and lower, teasing you. A heat rises in your core. Something in the way his eyes smile when they look at you… suddenly, you need him. You lean up to kiss him, pulling on his neck for support, and his lips lower to meet yours, merging with sudden fury. He pulls the back of your head toward him, deepening the kiss, while his other hand takes advantage of your hips lifting off his lap to slide between your thighs. He moans, muffled against your mouth. The sound of his arousal ignites your own, and you writhe your hips into the fingers exploring you there, directing them over your clothes to your heat. You could get lost in him.

Your mother’s shrill voice carries down to the barn, calling your name. The hens cluck a greeting, rushing to the fence to beg for food. She’s not just calling you in to breakfast, she’s coming to the barn!

You fall off him with a yelp, frantically righting your clothing and hair, while he scrambles to get out of sight, massive erection outlined clearly even through his thick cloak.

“What is taking you so long?” your mother scolds, charging into the barn. She’s in a foul mood, but at least is too wrapped up in her anger to notice anything amiss. She snatches up the milk pail by the door. “I’ve been waiting on this for breakfast!”

“Sorry. I got an early start so I could take my time this morning—it’s no later than user!”

“Don’t talk back to me, child,” she huffs. “I worried about you. I keep expecting you to disappear again.”

“Oh, mom…” you feel sorry for all you’ve put her through for a moment, but she doesn’t let you complete your thought.

“Do you know how this has been on me? Our family is the gossip of the town. But at least we had that nice service for you. How did you like the service?”

It wasn’t a real question. You open your mouth to answer, and she is already delivering a lengthy sermon on how lovely the hymns were, and how she had the best voice, because she wanted to be an opera singer when she was your age, you know.

“Anyway, I came to fetch you for breakfast, and after breakfast, I want you to go into town and apologize to that boy Ferdinand right away and get him to take you back.”

“What? I told you, I broke things off with him!”

“You can explain that the accident made you hysterical, and you weren’t thinking straight.”

“But I was thinking straight. I don’t love him!”

“You fool!” she raises her voice. “Can’t you see he’s your best prospect? Who else will have you? Do you want to grow old alone, a spinster?”

“Maybe I do!” You’ve had about enough of this. “There’s good money in textiles, and then I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone! You think I want to end up like you and dad?”

“HOW DARE YOU?” She slaps you across the face. It wasn’t a hard blow, but it stings like needles under your skin. An angry snarl emanates from where the creature is hiding. Your mother stands bolt upright. “What was that?”

“That was you hitting me,” you hiss between clenched teeth, playing dumb.

“Let us return to the house. Something unholy has fallen on this place.”

“No, I still have chores to finish.”

“Now! I will not leave my daughter alone to be preyed upon by a demonic spirit. Dear lord, what if the devil is following you? When you had your accident, you came too close to the gates of death, and now some devil has its claws in your soul… Come!”

“It was only a cow, you’re imagining things,” you plead, but she grabs you hard around the wrist and drags you back to the house.

*****

Something is wrong. You can tell the moment you enter the barn. After spending a long, miserable day under your mother’s supervision, you long for the comfort of your macabre companion’s arms, but he does not greet you at the door. It is silent. He could be asleep again, but it is not the warm, comfortable silence of rest. It is a cold feeling, as if something had sucked all sound from the air.

You climb up to the hay loft, a knot of dread rising in your stomach, and find him stewing in a shadowed corner facing the wall.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Who is Ferdinand?” he growls, not turning around.

The knot tightens.

He whips around and repeats his demand, this time a roar. “Who is Ferdinand?!” His eyes are dark. He may have been crying.

“The boy I was with when I tripped and fell in the river... the one who shot you.”

“And who is he to you, exactly?” He asks, attempting to seem indifferent to the answer, though his voice is strained and constricted in his throat.

“He was... we were courting. He comes from a wealthy family, and my parents pushed the match. Of course I ended all preludes the moment I awoke from the accident to learn what he had done to you. Then I went to find you.”

This explanation does nothing to satisfy him, or to relieve the tension in his shoulders and the heaving of his breath. He paces.

“You never told me.”

“I… I’m sorry; he’s in the past, it didn’t seem important…” But not even mentioning it was a deliberate oversight. It was to protect his feelings, you tell yourself. Or was it to protect yourself from your own shame? Girls in your town are taught to be faithful, to never rush between men. One must wait at least a year between suitors, to be proper. To do otherwise is to be called a whore. Not that you care about what is proper. Not that he ought to care.

“Did you lay with him?” he cringes. “And how many others before him?!”

“Th-that’s none of your business!”

“But you’re mine!” he roars. “I thought you were mine… I should have known you belonged to another!”

“I belong to nobody!” you cry indignantly, trying to convince yourself as much as him. The anger rising within you is overshadowed by a stronger feeling—guilt. You never lied exactly, but you omitted the truth to let him think you were better than you are. “I may have been with another in the past, but I chose to be with you now. Please...” Your appeal falls on unhearing ears as he continues to pace in a jerky, agitated manner.

“And you… you debase yourself with me! What madness would cause you to break with your own kind and seek companionship with a wretched fiend? You could be wife to a normal, handsome fellow-being, yet you debauch in the sordid embrace of monsters? You are a greater freak than I! Given the choice, I would take a normal life! You make an outcast of yourself willingly. What in the world could drive you to such self-destruction? I forbid it! Be not an adulteress to a corpse. Take my leave and rejoin your own!”

There are a million things you could tell him. You could shout at him for being cruel. For pushing you away again. You could calmly comfort him, explain to him why it’s all okay… Except you’re struggling to see how it can be okay. Your lip quivers. He’s right. A voice like a knife dipped in honey whispers in your ear, draining all your strength to fight back. You’re too much of a freak even for him. You’re an unfaithful whore jumping from man to man. Your knees go weak. You could never do the proper things a lady is supposed to do. You didn’t think he would notice? Everyone notices. Your mother is right—there’s a devil in you.

You turn to run, to escape the voice. Legs like lead, barn blurry with tears, you trip and stumble and feel your way to the ladder.

“Why are you crying?” he asks as you go, at first with cold curiosity, then softer, in a shaking voice. “Why are you crying?”

  *****

You run into the woods, to your secret place to think and get away. It’s not far from home—a place you’ve come since you were a child—but hidden from view behind a few large boulders, standing out on the otherwise flat forest floor as if dropped from the sky. They are covered with moss, set in a tiny clearing where an old tree blew down years ago, letting just enough light in for a soft circle of grass to grow.

You scramble between the rocks, falling to your knees on the snow still hiding, like you, in the solace of shadows. Tears fall down hot against your cheeks, but you shiver, skin clammy with goosebumps.

It doesn’t take him long to find you.

“No, oh no…” he gasps, “what have I done?” He kneels beside you, and wraps himself around your shaking form. “No, no, no... Please no, don't cry,” he begins to sob. “I am sorry... I am a fiend! A wicked, villainous fiend to hurt you... Forgive me, please forgive me, I am sorry…”

It feels good to cry with him, the way a funeral feels good. Miserable, yet not alone. But you should be alone. When he knows the truth, he won’t want to stay. He’ll leave you alone with your lies.

“You’re right. You’re right about everything,” you sniff. “I didn’t tell you so many things I should have, because… this magical creature wandered out of the woods and thought the world of me. I didn’t want you to know. I’m a freak. I’m rotten. A disappointment. And I'm poor. I'm just a poor farmer. You think I am sacrificing my social standing by affiliating with you, yet in truth, I have no such standing. No merit. I am nothing. Even among the poor farmers of this town, I have never been accepted. Ha—and I said I could help you fit in! Who am I to teach anyone about social etiquette? Ferdinand was my only prospect; that's why mother is so worried that if he won't have me, no one will. But I thought I could at least seem normal in your eyes… but even a monster can see I am worthless.”

He flinches when you call him a monster, but it is only a blip against the look of horror and sadness in his eyes as you speak of yourself that way. “No. No, please forget those jealous words I spoke,” he croaks, voice breaking. He’s clinging to you like a drowning man, his weight against you crushing, but warm. He rubs heat back into your arms. “They were spoken in a fit of madness—vitriolic raving, fueled by envy, deprived of all logic or reason. Do not forgive me: hate me and curse my being, but do not allow my reckless malice to tarnish your own estimation of your worth. Here I speak the truth: You are everything. You are all I could ever want, and more than I dare ever hope for. You are kind, and wonderful, and strong. You are perfect, and I do not deserve to bask in your radiance. Destroy my wretched life now, if it will undo the harm I have done, and I shall submit myself to your revenge.”

It’s too late. The voice isn’t satisfied, and you can only helplessly parrot what it whispers to you. “I’m not any of those things. If you only looked normal, you would fit in better than I ever could. I wish I could trade bodies with you, so that you could be happy, and I could be the one hiding in the wilderness all alone.”

“I COULD NEVER BE HAPPY LIKE THAT!” he shouts, holding your gaze with such intensity it snaps you out of your fog. “Not without you beside me! I will never be content while you are miserable.”

“But you held me in such high esteem. I let you believe you were getting more than you were—that I was a prize of high station, with powers to lift you up in society. Aren't you disappointed?”

“I never overestimated your position. Though I am kept apart from it, I am not so ignorant of human society as to be blind to your place in its cruel hierarchy.”

“But you always say things like, I’m an angel, I’m noble, the barn is heaven, our food is lavish...”

“Compared against my own experiences, these are true. I have nothing, not even humanity. My life has been spent in wilderness, and you have been gracious in sharing what little you have. You are the noblest being I have encountered, yet it is plain in your residence, dress, and occupation that you are you are of the lower class. And to seek me out, unafraid… I easily inferred you were unusual amongst your peers. Your mere willingness to tolerate me is proof.”

“Oh.” You shake your head, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

He takes your hand, kneeling in front of you. “Did you believe I would think less of you? How could one so wonderful as you ever put value on the opinion of a wretch such as I? Could it truly be that you feel wretched, too, at times?” His eyes widen with realization. “That is why my words hurt you. You have borne the pain of rejection; you share, to an extent, my feeling of isolation. From my vantage, you seem so grand, like the walls of a castle that I am merely the wind howling against. I could not imagine myself capable of damaging you.”

“Do you really think I don’t care? I am not a castle. I’m not above you, or your reprobations. You really hurt me this time...”

“I know,” he says, voice cracking with agonizing understanding. He is certain you are leaving him. “I know.”

You breathe out a long sigh. Brushing a strand of loose hair from his despairing face, you give a lopsided smile. “You know... You're cute when you're sad.”

“I am never cute,” he says, staring severely at the ground. “I am hideous.”

“Stop it, you're even cuter when you're self-pitying!”

He looks up from his stupor, and sees the teasing glimmer in your eyes. “You... are forgiving me?”

“Do you forgive me about Ferdinand? You don’t think I’m a harlot?”

“I don’t care about that anymore. It is far worse to see you in pain because of my foolish jealousy. You may bed a different man each night, and I will count myself fortunate to have you return home to me. Just return to me. I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

Your lips crash against his, catching him off balance. You pull him down into you, practically hanging on the back of his neck.

“Well,” you break the kiss, breathless, “I’m not going to abandon you. But I… hope this gets easier. I don’t want us to fight all the time. You lash out at me like you can’t trust me. But you're only two years old, I suppose, so tantrums must be expected; and you’ve never had anyone else to talk to.”

He buries you in his chest with a sob, protectively scooping you off the frozen ground. He feels so warm, with his cloak draped over you, rocking back and forth. Everything is okay now.

“I am so sorry. I swear to you, I will never hurt you again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whisper. “Just keep getting better. We’ll both just keep getting better, together.”

His mess of hair nods against your cheek, still gripping you tight.

  *****

At length, you rise, finally ready to return. He takes off his wool cloak and wraps it around your shoulders. The storm between you is over.

You walk back to the barn to do the evening chores. Though it’s an unheated barn, it’s amazing how much warmer it feels compared to the chilling wind outside. The creature helps you with a few of the tasks you showed him earlier. He is slow and unsure, and must rest frequently for his shoulder, but he tries hard to be useful, pushing past the pain, as if helping with this will make up for everything earlier.

He sets a milk pail by the door, ready for you to bring back to the house for the dinner. His eyes linger over the spot balefully, where you had argued with your mother that morning.

“I should have protected you when you returned, after the way that woman struck you, I should have been there to lessen your strife…”

“You growled so loud, you nearly gave us away!” you laugh, throwing grains into the mule’s trough, eager to change the subject. “It’s a lucky thing father makes sport of dismissing mother’s fears as feeble-minded superstition.”

“How awful.”

“She’s awful.”

“But they are married. Do they not love each other, as my dear Felix and Safie?”

You snort at his naivete. “Marriage has nothing to do with love. It didn’t for my parents, and it wouldn’t if I had married Ferdinand.” You secure the lid back on the store of feed. “I have no money in my own name. The only way out of this farm is to wait until my parents die, or take a husband. That’s the choice all women here must make.”

“I never understood these laws of men, which seem contrived to force those under them to live in misery. One should not have to spend their life with another they do not love. It seems better to break with civilization entirely, if only it were not so bitterly lonely…”

“Well… I agree with you there. If it were possible, I’d run away into the forest and never look back. Except I would starve to death, or freeze. If I was like you… we could just disappear together.”

He smiles at you, wiping your hands off on your dress now that chores are finished, a strange look on his face. “I dreamed of that once. Having a companion who was like me, and spending our lives in the remote jungles of South America.”

“That sounds nice.”

You sit down with him against the barn wall. A small calico pads over and rubs her head against the both of you with a purr, before rushing off to hunt mice.

“It was my greatest hope… but then I met you. Now all of my dreams are of you. I would live anywhere, do anything, to be with you. I am so eager to devote my life to you… I am ashamed that I am equally eager to believe you would betray me…”

He’s never going to forgive himself for that. You sigh, and shake your head. “It's funny... Others look at you and see a monster. They run away or hurt you thinking you’ll attack them, or eat their skin, or steal the souls from their goats or something!” You laugh quietly. He stares at you a little horrified. When did you get so morbid? “What I mean is—If only they knew your most monstrous quality is a mundane, human thing like jealousy.”

He breathes out a single, silent laugh, and hangs his head.

“You know, thanks for saying you don’t care who else I’m with, but… The moment I laid eyes on you, it was over with Ferdinand. From that moment, you were all I could think about. You were all I wanted, even before we met.”

He picks his head up. “You really chose me? You could have had that handsome boy, but you chose me?” This time, his voice is full of wonder, not fear. A victorious smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

“I did.”

He takes your hand and holds it to his thin lips, each word a kiss against your knuckles. “It is incomprehensible that any rational being would make such a selection, but… it makes me unimaginably happy.”

[enchanted-prose]

if you write any mott content, I'll love you forever. maybe exploring his backstory & what his life was like before being in conner's service :)

here you go anon, it’s not quite past!mott, but it does mention a few moments of reminiscence. . . Also I couldn’t resist a tiny one shot happening in the Streets of Drylliad-verse

takes place 3 months after #23

Enjoy! NO editing! We die like men!

The truth was, he didn’t want to continue being looked at with sorry eyes. Pity poor Mott, struck with a sword before his time. Pity poor Mott, can’t quite move as fast as he used to. 

“It’s alright to slow down, Mott, don’t strain yourself.”

“Are you sure you should be holding a sword, Mott?”

“Here, let me help you carry that. Really, it’s no trouble. Maybe you should sit down.”

It was always Mott this and Mott that. Always ‘how are you feeling?’ and ‘doesn’t that hurt you?’, always warnings against doing something he’d regret.

By the Saints, he wasn’t even that old. Kerwyn had more freedom than Mott did.

Each time he was caught in the training arena, Mott was sent out, or at least sent away from the practice dummies. All he could do was watch as Roden and Jaron sparred. Watch as Roden began sparring with anyone he could until he beat them. Watch as Jaron was able to fight with his old injury.

And it wasn’t fair.

The only time the arena was ever completely empty was during the earliest hours of the morning. Nobody in their right mind would be awake of their own free will, which meant Mott was free to hack at practice dummies until the sun rose and Roden came for his morning training session. 

Summer had faded, leaving Drylliad trapped in an interlude between warmth and the coming cold. Mott could see his breath each time he exhaled. He wore a warm shirt and trousers, items that would be useless once the afternoon came.

A row of swords beckoned to him, left out by practicing soldiers from the previous evening. There was a series of humanoid targets lining the far end of the round arena. 

Children used those. Little girls like Nila hacked away at the practice dummies with their silvery fencing swords.

Mott was reduced to using practice dummies. 

He’d bitten back his pride for several weeks. After he, Tobias, Renlyn Karise, and lord Feall Cormeach had been attacked by a group of masked bandits, Mott had wanted to regain his ability to use a blade. The desire for painless mobility wasn’t new, the fierce determination to achieve that goal was.

Selecting a sword, Mott made his way to the practice dummies.

Though he’d never regret what he did to get the ghost wound that still haunted him, he’d always wonder what would’ve happened if he’d just been a little bit faster. 

Just a little bit better than the man who’d delivered the blow.

The past couldn’t be changed, Mott knew that better than anyone, but everybody pondered about what would’ve happened if they’d just made a different choice. 

If fate was just a little different.

Sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been able to figure out that Jaron was the real prince. What would’ve happened if he’d helped Conner put Roden on the throne instead. 

Definitely would’ve been a disaster. 

Mott probably wouldn’t have ever seen the light of day again.

He lifted the sword above his head, and brought it back down slowly. The pain in his side was tight and sharp. 

Empty hand up; empty hand down. Sword hand up; sword hand down. 

Trust in yourself not to split your skin in half. 

After repeating the motion a countless amount of times, Mott held up his elbows, and twisted side to side. His spine popped in several places, and he smiled. Swing out the legs, rotate the arms, twist from side to side again. The stretching in his side never left, but it wasn’t so bad.

Mott raised the sword above his head, and brought it down slowly. His routine was always the same. Always slow, careful not to rip something beyond repair. 

But today was different. He was ready to swing his sword a little faster. He was ready to push past the stretching ache in his side. 

He stepped away from the dummy, and held his sword in both hands. Envisioning one of the masked bandits from weeks and weeks ago, Mott swung at the dummy. The skin near his wound tightened again. 

A sharp voice in the back of his head was convinced that he was going to tear himself into two pieces. 

Not real, not real. He was made of sinew and muscle and bones and lungs, not of fabric. Please don’t tear in half. 

Again! Hit the dummy again! 

Heaving the sword over his shoulder, Mott hacked at the cloth dummy’s shoulder, exposing insides made of straw. Ever so slowly, he brought the sword across the dummy, slashing from left to right. 

More straw burst from the dummy’s split middle. 

Something new was pulsing through his veins. 

New, but oddly familiar.

It reminded him of when he wasn’t stitched together. When he wasn’t a patchwork person. 

Ignoring the energy was wrong. Mott gave in, no longer caring if the pesky voice in the back of his head was right. If he tore himself in half, that was obviously how he was meant to leave this world. 

With a grunt, Mott swung the sword up, burying the blade deep into the dummy’s side. Downward blow, upward blow. Slash from left to right, a cutting swing at the neck. 

Mott stepped back, and spun around himself as he charged the dummy.

It wouldn’t be much longer until the dummy was no longer usable. 

Straw was bursting from the ripped fabric. Bursting from the illusory wounds Mott caused. A small smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Weeks of practice and early rising was proving a little more useful.

He stepped back, inspecting where each of his blows had landed. The ghost wound in his side began to ache. He didn’t have the energy to hide it from himself. Mott grabbed at his side with his free hand, but forced himself to remain on his feet.

Imogen’s cat, Beanstalk Edelweiss, had a bad habit of shredding curtains when she was bored.

Mott now knew what the curtains were subjected to.

He’d do a little better at keeping Beanstalk Edelweiss from ripping the curtains.

“So you’re the one shredding up the targets.”

“I can’t lie while the evidence is in front of both of us,” Mott confessed. He turned to Roden, “You’re early.”

Roden waved his hand, a speckle of dried blood just below his nose, “Can’t sleep.”

“Because you knew somebody was abusing the practice dummies or something else entirely?”

A tiny frown flickered across Roden’s face, but it vanished. “Both, I suppose. There’s activity in the Vaults, I didn’t realize how much our, ah, mutual challenger was doing more than we thought.”

The name didn’t need to be mentioned. Mott knew Roden was discussing the Faola, specifically the disgraced Mireldis Thay. She’d worn a mask, stolen from the nobility, attacked the king, and still managed to escape without showing her face. 

Mott cleared his throat, “Doesn’t Feall help you?”

“Not exactly,” Roden shook his head. “He’s been tasked with keeping the forests clear. I have, ah, help in a special way.”

Feall Cormeach, a promising Bymarian lord, had become much more helpful than Mott had expected when he first arrived in Carthya.

Apparently even Feall’s help didn’t stop the cesspool buried below Drylliad, hidden in the dark tunnels known as the Vaults. 

“What do you mean?” Mott asked. 

He didn’t mean to frown as he pawed through the names of various soldiers he and Roden often talked about. The most promising men had been sent to Isel upon the request of an Avenian lord, and dozens others were stationed in Libeth for quick mobilization.

There was always the chance that Mireldis came back. 

Or that somebody was copying her. 

“Doesn’t matter. It looks like you’ll be able to accompany me, though,” Roden scratched the back of his neck, and then gestured to the bursting dummy.

Heat flooded Mott’s face. Usually, he wasn’t so rough with his exercises. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away,” he said.

Roden smirked, “I don’t mind. There’s a new move I’ve seen and I want to practice, are you up to the challenge?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to spar? It wouldn’t be much of a spar, more of a way to understand how to catch saber blades.”

Mott blinked. 

Was this a form of deception? Was he dreaming?

He’d gotten so used to being dismissed when trying to use a sword, he’d forgotten how to react when somebody asked him to spar. 

“Have you got a saber?” Mott asked. He was nodding too fiercely, he knew he looked like a schoolgirl begging for a flower tiara. “I can do it, I promise.”

The stretching in his side dulled, he could ignore it for now. 

Roden returned with a saber and a longsword, “Thank you, Mott.”

“I should be thanking you,” said Mott. The saber was light in his hand. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll try my best.”

He’d be able to get past the tight stretching in his side. 

He wouldn’t have returned to the arena to practice if he wasn’t ready to regain his agility.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d get back up to speed, and move past the dull ache that never really left him alone.

[a-really-bi-girl]

Edelweiss - Chapter 4

Twins

Chapter 4 - Twins

The old man waved at the family of six as they exited the store. The door closed itself after the marked one. When the door closed itself behind you he picked up the telephone horn while selecting a telephone number. 

The phone rang for just a view second before the woman on the other side picked it up.

¨What!¨ she hissed into the phone

The older men sighed at her tone, afraid to tell her the news he had for her.

¨I told you to only call me when it is done¨ The woman continued.

¨It is, It is done, miss. But there is more¨ The old men told her while opening a drawer. 

¨Well then, tell me¨ The woman asked curiously

The men looked on the picture he held in his hand and then over at you. While you took one look at the small town before entering the car.

The men swallowed and placed the picture back into the drawer. While closing the drawer he spoke.

¨Its her¨

————

¨FUCKING HELL¨ John cursed as the cold water hit his body. While cursing at the cold shower he rid himself of his clothes, not noticing that his tie was missing. Every piece of his bloody clothing he removes and then he tossed it into a corner on the ground.  

When the water turned warmer he started replaying what happened on site. A metal flower exploding and leaving everything covered in blood. 

‘Sara was bloody right this is freaky. But how is this connected to the missing families, nothing makes sense.’ John taught.

When he removed the final sock, he started scrubbing his body clean of the blood. ¨Missing families, no records, no body’s, metal edelweiss flower, blood, a lot of blood, pure, latin¨ John mumbled. He continued to mumble these words while cleaning the blood of his body. 

When most of the blood was of his body, he decided to write the words onto the glass wall of the shower, ¨Missing families, no records, no body’s, metal edelweiss flower, blood, lots of blood, pure, Latin.¨ he wrote on the wall with his fingers.

While washing his hair he looked at the words he just wrote on the wall. While staring at the words and thinking about them he saw something interesting. Some moisture formed a water droplet and it slowly slid over the glass. 

The drop traced itself over the words missing families, then the words no record it skipped the words no body’s to lots of blood and it connected itself with the word pure and at last the word Latin.

¨Bloody h… ¨ John wanted to say before another drop formed itself, connecting the words metal edelweiss flower, blood and Latin together. This must be someone trying to trick him or hint him.

He quickly removed the shampoo and the blood out of his hair and the rest of his body. he turned the shower off before picking his clothes up and tossing them into the sink.

He dries himself off before walking out of the bathroom only wearing a towel. 

He walked over to the desk and on the back of the now bloody folder, he penned down the two-word connections.

                   Missing families                       

                   No records                     Metal edelweiss flower

                            Pure                              Blood

                                             LATIN

John started circling words out, but before he could think about the connections he just made he was interrupted by a warm voice.

¨I think this is yours¨

——————————

After listening in the car to do a deer from the time of music for a way to many times. You ran out of the car as soon as it stopped. ¨FINALLY¨ You said while stretching your body. The (TERROR) Twins have been singing it ever since we left.

You didn’t hate those two they are like family to you. But in a moment like this, you wish you had duck tape to shut them up.

¨DO, A DEER¨ Tim began ¨ A FEMALE DEER¨ Tara finished. 

‘Here we go again’

¨RAY!¨ Alex joined.

¨A DROP OF GOLDEN SUN¨ Their parents joined. 

¨You are all plotting against me!!¨ you laugh out while picking up your backpack and walking towards the hotel. 

¨Aila join us, I know you know the lyrics¨ Alex yelled at you while you turned around to face them.

¨ME¨ the twins said while running at you. You tried to run away but it was too late. “Sing with us” Tara begged. “Then we will let go of your legs” Tim added.

¨A name I call myself.” you started singing and then the twins and Alex joined.

 “Far, a long, long way to run.

Sew, a needle pulling thread.

La, a note to follow sew. 

Tea, I drink with jam and bread. 

That will bring us back to Do do do do¨ you sang while the twins clung onto your legs.

¨KARMA¨ Alex laughed at you while you slowly entered the Hotel.

“Please, Alex remind me, Why did I agree to support you during this vacation” you laugh out while you leaned against a wall.

¨Guys lets leave Aila her legs alone¨ Carlos laughed out loud.

The twins let go of your legs and ran up the stairs towards their room. While walking upstairs we decided to meet at 19:00 for dinner, so everyone had two hours for themself.

When arriving at the third floor your eyes fell on a red bloody tie. ¨What the…?¨ you mumbled while picking the tie up with one finger. 

You studied the tie and the trail of blood drops which made a path past your door towards room 312. 

You followed the blood towards 312 while Alex opened your door. A smile appeared on your face when you realised that the tie in your hand, was John’s. 

¨U coming?¨ Alex askes

¨Yeah in I an minute, got to return this¨ you respond while holding the tie up.

Alex entered your room smirking while you knocked onto the door, accidentally opening it. 

You looked into the room and saw John writing something down while only wearing a towel. ¨I think this is yours¨

John turned around and you checked him out while smiling. John smiled back at you while walking over at you.

“ Here to tell me your name, Lass?” He asks while he stretched his body in front of you while he leans against the doorpost.

You smirk at john while holding his tie up. ¨I’m here to return your tie.¨

¨How thoughtful?¨ John said while gently grabbing the tie from your hand. Your hands touched and you locked eyes. His eyes were dark but so warm at the same time. While pulling the tie towards his body he smirked at you. ¨Here to give me something else love¨

¨You wish¨ You say to John while you let go of the bloody tie. You felt your cheeks turning pink so you quickly change the subject.

¨So what’s up with the blood?¨ You ask while looking at your hand blood-covered hand.

John’s smile fades

¨Do not worry your pretty little head about it, luv¨ he said while he enters his room again.

¨Whatever you say detective¨ you reply while smiling at him while turning around to walk back to your room.

¨Where did you get that¨ John asked while stepping back into the hallway. 

You turned around to face him. “Get what?” 

“Your Jacket” 

¨A small store in a town over up north, the man in the store gave it to me. Said that it would protect me or something, Why?¨ You asked while opening the door.

¨Nothing Lass,¨ John replies when walking back into his room and closing the door.

´Weird´ you think to yourself before you shut the door behind you.

——————

Time flew by when John and Chas were researching the possible leads.

“ The families are I think some kind of sacrifice, but for what?” John mumbled as he flipped through the pages of a dusty book.

“Maybe something of roman origin, Austria was part of the roman empire,” Chas suggested as he opened his laptop.

John nodded as he grabbed a book about the roman gods out of his backpack. “Chas do you have more off those facts for me Mate?” John asked while he opened the book to a painting of the gods and their relatives.

“Sure,” Chas said while looking on the internet for some facts.

“Okay here we go; The name Austria derives from a Germanic word ‘Austro’ which means ‘east’, The Austrian flag is one of the oldest national flags in the world, Approximately one quarter of the population of Austria lives in Vienna, Austria is known for its mountain railways and trains such as the Giselabahn, The people of Austria are masters in creating objects with iron, Former Hollywood actor Arnold Schwarzenegger grew up in Austria, 62% of Austria is covered by the Austrian Alps.”

“Stop,” John said while pointing to one of the gods.

“What, o John your not saying that the terminator is involved are you?” Chas jokes.

“No of course not you idiot, the iron, the metal,” John said while walking towards him. “Also known as Hephaestus in Greek mythology, Vulcan came to be considered as the manufacturer of art, arms, iron, jewellery, and armour for various gods and heroes, including the lightning bolts of Jupiter. He was the son of Jupiter (Zeus) and Juno(Hera), and the husband of Maia, Aphrodite (Venus) and Aglaia.”

“So you are saying that is must be connected to this ugly fellow, explains the flower,” Chas said while he entered the names of the names gods and deities into google. 

John looked back at his notes “ So we know about everyone who is probably involved, we might also have to look into diverse rituals” John said while placing a cigarette in his mouth.

“Outside,” Chas said, to which John replied“Yes Mum” 

John steps outside to clear his head while smoking one of his cigarettes. “Bottoms up you idiot, your in the bus” John heard you laugh. “Alright Alright,” a male voice replies. For a second the two of you were silent before you burst out in laughter. 

———–

“Good Morning Sunshine!” You say as you open the windows. The summer sun shined into the room and on Alex’s face. He slowly sat up before he ran towards the bathroom. 

You wanted to check on him, but the noises he was making told you exactly what was happening.

You grabbed your bottle of water and your medicine strip. When Alex exited the bathroom you handed it to him. 

“Two pills and the whole bottle, and hurry up. We are late for breakfast” you tell him teasingly. 

You quickly washed and changed into your clothes. While pinning your hair back with some Bobby pins you walked over to the balcony. You took a picture of the view and sent it to your Dad. 

“ Hi Dad, lots of love” you mumbled while typing in the words into your phone and sending him the text.

“I need food” Alex mumbled which caused you to turn around.

 "Well let’s get some!“ You reply while walking through the room towards the door. 

You opened the door and locked it with your card when you and Alex left the room. 

While walking downstairs you heard Alex mumbling about wanting to go back to bed. 

‘That boy can’t handle his liquor’ You laughed to yourself.

While entering the restaurant you noticed that the twins were not already at the table. 

"Good Morning,” You said to his parents.

His parents responded with morning and the two of you sat down at the table.

 "Have you seen the twins? They are never late for breakfast.“ Jane asked you two.

"No, we haven’t, if you want we can check their room?” You suggested while wondering why the twins were not at the table. 

Jane nodded “ I would like that, I will make you something to eat while you get those two. We don’t want to be late for the tour”

You quickly grabbed two pretzels on your way out and you handed one to Alex. 

While walking up the stairs to the twins their room you ate the pretzels.

When arriving at their door you knocked on it. “Guys wake up you are late for breakfast!" 

No noise. 

"Tara, Tim wake up” Alex added while banging harder on the door. 

Still no noise. Nothing. You could see Alex getting worried. 

“Aila, what if?” Alex asked desperately and your eyes got bigger.

“You are not suggesting..?” You reply. 

“ I am,” He told you. 

“No not on my watch,” You said while squatting down to pick the lock to there room.

You slid two of your Bobby pins into the manual lock on the door. 

“Alex when I say now I want you to kick against the electric lock”

Alex nodded and stepped back. 

“What’s going on here,” An angry Manager said as he walked over to us. 

You ignored the manager and simply spoke “3” as you unlocked the first tumbler.

“Just getting to my siblings” Alex said while getting into position to kick the door open.

“2,” You said when another one opened itself.

The manager looked at the two of you.

“Why?” He asked.

“1,” You said while hearing the last click of the lock.

“They were late for breakfast, their never late for breakfast” Alex replied.

“Now,” you said as you ducked, still holding the Bobby pins in place. 

Alex kicked the door open and stormed into the room. You ran in after Alex into the Twins their room.

Alex dropped down onto his knees and looked at you.

You just froze.

“Get his Parents” 

————

Taglist: @sirkekselord

[babysgarage]

How many questions from an ask post can you send at once without being embarrassing? Whatever the answer please pretend I've sent that number of questions and ignore whatever you don't want to answer! That said: Azalea, Cherry Blossom, Edelweiss, Lilac, Orange Blossom, Nyacinth for the flower asks, please and thank you!! :)

thank YOU!! and there’s no such things as an embarrassing number of asks in this house :D

Cherry Blossom:Tell us about an average morning for you, on a day you have to work, and a day you have no plans. i usually have breakfast as soon as i wake up and then i lay in bed for several more hours checking my phone. i set up alarms to give myself more time to do nothing in bed when i have plans that day

Edelweiss: If you could be in a fantasy novel, what would you be like? Would you be a mythical creature? A hero? A mentor? Where would you live? What would the world be like? i’d love to just travel across different magical realms and take tourist-y photos. also please no impending or ongoing wars in my fantasy novel!

Lilac: Tell us about a place you love. there’s a forest near my house back in my hometown, it’s a deciduous forest, but it turns into a pine forest the higher you climb (since it’s on a hill). once my friend and i were walking around and a fawn jumped infront of us. there’s a place there with giant stone statues where lizards hang out on hot days. what more could you need tbh

Orange Blossom: Describe your favourite item of clothing. a pair of metallic blue basketball shorts i bought 5th grade and was somehow still able to wear all these years

Hyacinth: What’s the most unusual thing you do in your spare time? i sometimes have late night workout sessions that include me turning off all the lights, closing my eyes and doing exercises or just dancing around the room like a maniac

And finally Azalea: Is there something you need to get off your chest? If you feel safe and comfortable telling us, do so? there’s literally only one more thing related to banana fish that i haven’t gotten off my chest in yesterdays’s vent post so here we go!! Tw: eating disorders, abuse, bf so we know ash developed/got diagnosed with anorexia nervosa when he was trapped at d***’s, but before that point in the story people notice he eats in small portions and he makes several remarks abt not wanting to get fat and i think that’s an interesting topic for a meta writer to take on. were those signs of an e/d? people sometimes develop e/ds bc they feel they lack control in their life and they see that as a way they can gain control, could that be why? is it because he associates ‘fat’ with some of his abusers? maybe it has nothing to do with the psychology of the character itself and it’s just the author expressing her personal preferences through him? Or maybe the author took inspiration for that from someone/something? or maybe i’m looking into it too much and it has no deeper meaning? my chest is officially free of banana fish bullshit for now, thank u for this opportunity!

[pp183314]

The sound of music

The sound of music takes place just before World War II, when the free-spirited hero Maria goes to the house of Colonel Trapp to tutor.

He has seven children and is under the strict discipline of his father. Clothes, such as uniforms, are also worn. Maria let those seven outfit herself by repairing her clothes, putting her daughter who wasn't in time for her curfew out of a window, and gathering her in a room during a thunderstorm to sing a song. Maria fell in love and returned to the monastery once, but the scene that came back with a chorus again was very impressive.

In this musical movie, I heard Edelweiss and I felt nostalgic. I wanted to enjoy the movie again and listen to the chorus.