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delopsia · 1 year

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Flowers In November (1/4) Rhett x Reader

Word Count: 12,705 ♡‧₊˚ AO3 Cross-Post ♡⊹˚₊ Flowers In November Masterlist₊˚⊹♡ Warnings: Fem!Reader. Briefly mentioned abusive relationships (not involving reader), improper disposal of a horse's corpse, l-bombs, oral sex, physical and verbal altercations, blood, unprotected sex, inappropriate use of a firearm, lying to a police officer, multiple mentions of food and cooking. Part 2 ♡⊹˚₊

Flowers.

No matter where you go, whether it be the big, bustling concrete city or the vast, unforgiving pastures of your hometown, there have always been flowers—poking out from cracks in the sidewalk, dancing like fairies in unkempt lawns and waving daintily from their pots and planters.

But you think this is the first time you've ever seen something quite like this.

When you'd gone to bed last night, the backyard had been green grass for as far as the eye could see. All was normal, not a singular sign to be found that you would wake up to this.

"I've never seen so many flowers in my life," your mother muses from where she stands in front of the sliding door, "and yet, not a single purple flower to be found."

At first glance, you'd thought they were Autumn leaves, freshly fallen from the old Oaks along the tree line, but those trees shed their leaves weeks ago. Overnight, flowers have decorated every inch of your yard just days before December's start. Coming in all possible variations of red, orange, and yellow.

"Would you mind filling a basket of them for me?" She asks, already reaching for the wicker basket she's just put away, "I reckon we could make a beautiful Autumn wreath out of these."

"Sure," picking flowers sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than packing belongings into cardboard boxes and loading them onto a Uhaul.

You don't think you've actually seen her make a wreath out of live flowers before, but again, you can't argue with such a deal. Not when your shoulders ache from days of hauling everything your family owns from place to place.

It would have been so much easier to hire a moving company.

"Do you want the basket to be completely filled?" You question, just to be sure.

"Please," folding up an old flyer for the local raffle. If you'd guessed three-hundred forty instead of three-hundred ninety, maybe she'd have the leather necklace printed on that paper, "keep an eye out for some purple ones, too."

Can't be too hard, can it?

Sliding your headphones up over your ears, you step outside, basket in tow. For as beautiful as it looks, it sure doesn't feel like it.

Frighteningly chilly wind nips at your neck as you walk across the yard, seeking the perfect spot to settle down in. The more you think about it, the more you realize that this is really, truly, weird.

This many flowers, three days before December starts?

Even the pasture in the front yard is full of them; from the looks of it, so are the lots all around you. An endless sea of flowers with absolutely no business showing up as abruptly as this.

You wonder if they'll come back like this in the spring.

A part of you wishes that you could be here just in case that day comes, wake up to a magical sea of brightly colored flowers marking winter's end. But that won't be happening. Not if the brightly colored for sale sign at the end of the driveway has anything to do with it.

Right by the treeline, you find the old tree stump, still stained from all those times you painted it when you were a kid. It's uncomfortable sitting on, but it's better than sitting directly in the flowers themselves.

Drowning your thoughts with the music from your headphones, you get to work. Picking flowers with the longest stems and placing them neatly in your basket.

This isn't how you pictured your gap semester from college going.

The plan was to come back home and take it easy for a few months, pick up a job waitressing at the local mom-and-pop diner, something simple until you could get over your rapidly worsening burnout. But your mom has her heart set on selling your childhood home and moving closer to the city, and that's a process that has had you working for months.

You never truly realize how many things need to be fixed in a house until someone comes in to appraise it. Replace this, replace that, so you'll finally get an offer worth accepting.

But it doesn't work. You've practically renovated this entire house, and not a soul has made an offer. You don't want to see the house sell, but Lord, is it frustrating, working your ass off, only for it to add up to a whole bunch of nothing.

At the end of the day, many people want to avoid buying a property with a not-so-pleasant history. A handful of times, your mother has mentioned that all this land belonged to a single family. Their daughter, the sole inheritor, disappeared in a storm. Your folks bought this place shortly after the final member of the family passed.

"How's it going?"

The sudden appearance of your mother has you jumping out of your skin, your heart rising into your throat.

"Baskets nearly full," you chirp, sliding your headphones down until they rest around your neck, "not seeing any purple, though."

She hums, reaching down to sift through what you've collected. To be honest, you hardly remember picking half of these. How long have you been out here?

"Well, I hate to interrupt you," she muses, still rummaging through the basket, "but dinner's ready."

Alright, so you've been out here for a little while.

It starts to rain the moment you step inside the house. It feels as if the clouds had been waiting for you to get out of dodge, the storm appearing just as quickly as the flowers had. The wind howls as it whips around the corners of the house, angry and threatening to break through even the tiniest of entryways.

Storms around this part of Wyoming are common. Usually, they don't last any longer than twenty minutes, but it only worsens. The wind only grows louder, buckets upon buckets of rain coming down in thick, white sheets that seem to wrap around the house, blanketing the outside world from view.

You're washing dishes, gazing out the window just in front of the sink, when you notice something bouncing around in the lawn.

"Is that an animal?" Thinking aloud, you lean closer to the glass, squinting. No, animals don't move like that.

Shit.

Swearing, you reach for the towel, dying your hands as you rush toward the door, "I forgot the flowers outside!"

That's what it is. Your mom's favorite wicket basket is bouncing around the lawn, back and forth, being whipped around by the wind like a ball.

Without much thought, you pull the sliding door open, and immediately the cold wind starts to painfully nip at your skin with its frigid teeth. It's only worse as you step outside; the tiny raindrops feel like needles as they batter you, but you can't let that old basket be blown away.

You can hardly see, stumbling blindly as you chase the silhouette of that tumbling basket, but the wind is making a game out of keeping it from you. Whenever you think you've got it, the wind picks up, ripping it away.

But the wind slows a bit, and in a last-ditch effort, you jump on the basket the moment you've seen your chance. Your foot catches on a patch of mud, and your back hits the ground with a painful thump.

But you've got the basket. It's mostly empty now, but you've got it.

All your collected flowers are probably miles down the road by now, blowing into who knows where. So much for making a wreath with them. Swearing under your breath, you push yourself back up, fumbling for purchase on the muddy ground, some kind of leverage to help you onto your feet.

"Huh?"

There, right in front of you, lies a dainty purple flower. Remarkably short, its petals fluttering in the wind. No wonder you hadn't found any.

It should be easy to pluck from the ground, but it's not.

No, the damn thing will not so much as budge from its spot in the ground. You change hands, supposing that one is weaker than the other, but it barely moves. Come on; this can't be that hard. Using both hands, you take hold of the flower's tiny stem and pull.

Just like that, the flower plucks from the ground, leaving a dark hole in its former resting place. Strange.

With the flower safely tucked into the basket, alongside the ones that have survived the wind's torment, you try to get up.

But that hole...it's starting to...grow larger?

You think it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but no, it's—that hole is getting bigger. Beneath you, your legs become nothing but jelly, near useless, as you slip around on the muddy ground, fumbling for footing.

One foot catches traction; you've almost got it, you've almost—

the ground disappears out from under your feet,

and you

fall.

You don't know how long you fall for.

Everything around you is pitch black, a blanket of darkness wrapped around you so tightly that you can barely tell if your eyes are open or closed. The sour bubbling in your bones is the only indication you have that you're moving at all. You've become weightless, fluttering through the air like a discarded feather.

All of a sudden, a strong gust of wind hits you from behind. Now, it feels like you're moving back up, like someone's just flipped this hole upside down.

Where in the world are you? Are you halfway down to the center of the Earth, or are you somewhere else entirely?

A twinge of light appears in the distance.

It's faint, but it's there, and it's growing larger. You can't quite tell if you're moving toward it or if it's moving toward you. But it grows bigger and bigger, rapidly hurtling towards you until all you can see is a blinding light as it engulfs you.

All you see is a dark sky, but then, like a quarter, the world around you flips, and all you see is green as you come crashing down into it with a painful thunk. The impact is strong enough to knock the air from your lungs. It feels like someone's picked you up and thrown you against the ground.

Miraculously, your basket still contains its flowers, the tattered handle clenched in your weak hand. Your only sign that you just popped out of a...

...hole that has seemingly disappeared.

No, no, no, none of this is right. Where are you?

Instead of being once again surrounded by your childhood stomping grounds, all you can see is endless pasture hills. It's dark, still raining, but you can see enough to know that you've never been here before.

The ground squelches below your muddy shoes as you slowly stand. White-hot fire shoots up your right ankle as soon as you put weight on it. It doesn't look broken, but it's hard to tell when every bone in your trembling body aches.

There's movement up on the hill.

A woman. You can't see much of her, but her blonde hair is easy to spot as it flows in the wind, waving like a flag behind her. It seems she's seen you, too, because she's coming toward you.

"Hello?" You call out, shielding your eyes from the rain, "ma'am?"

She yells something back to you. Intelligible, borderline a shriek. No, that doesn't sound like the voice of someone coming to help.

"No, no, no!" She wails, "you don't belong here! You don't belong here!"

You have no time to question it. All you have time for is to turn and run.

Every step hurts. Your feet struggle to maintain traction as you race across the slick ground, left foot sputtering out from beneath you with every stride.

You don't know where you're going. You can't see anything. It's all pitch black and silvery raindrops and green grass, and you can't figure out how close this woman is getting to you. Her voice grows louder and louder with each passing step, chanting incoherently; how you don't belong here; this isn't right.

Lightning strikes the ground, lighting up the world around you.

There's a fence in front of you, the silver gate already halfway open. However, there's a black dot just beyond that. You haven't the slightest clue what it is, but you'll take anything over the woman that's rapidly gaining on you.

Come on, come on, come on, you're almost there.

Something heavy hits you from behind, and for the umpteenth time, you hit the ground with a painful thunk.

"You!" Her voice is so loud that your ears feel like they're going to bleed. Silver glints in the dark as you squirm, legs kicking out as you try to get back up. But she's faster than you, climbing up on top of you as that sharp silver glistens. Your nails find purchase on her scalp, clawing at a raised scar. It doesn't faze her. "You don't belong here!"

Black flickers across your vision, and just as quickly as she'd climbed on top of you, she's knocked off, landing flat on her back. She's still yelling, chanting the same thing over and over, but her voice is drowned out by a deeper one that booms through the dark like thunder.

Your throbbing ankle crumples out from under you as you try to stand, leaving you frantically scooting backward. Away from that girl. Away from whoever was crazy enough to go after her. No, no, no, you've just backed into the fence.

...and the fence steps out from behind you?

It's a horse. Black in color, concealed near perfectly by the blanket of the night. She steps out from behind you, feet dancing dangerously close to your face as she does so, and then she turns and...

It's enough of a sight to make you momentarily power through the pain biting at your nerves. Rising to your feet, you stumble for the open gate, each step feeling like it'll be your last.

That horse has three heads.

The man's calling after you, something that sounds like a rushed 'hey!' but you pay it no heed. Your heart hammers against your chest so loud that it drowns out everything else, beating in perfect synchrony with your racing feet. But that three-headed horse is coming after you, barely visible as she runs you down.

Something thin passes overtop of your head and cinches tight around your waist. The next thing you register is the sharp pull of rope, so strong that it stops you in your tracks.

"Hold on, hold on!" That deep voice shouts; it doesn't sound threatening, but it doesn't stop you from fighting the lasso cast upon you, squirming, pulling at the loop.

Maybe it's the rapid in and out of breath; perhaps it's the fear permanently etched into your expression, but something makes him get down from that monster of a horse. Dropping the rope in favor of kneeling and raising his open palms to the sky.

"'m not gonna hurt you," he breathes, speaking slowly, "a'ight?"

You don't know if you believe that, but as a scream echoes through the night, you realize that you don't have much choice here.

"Who..." your voice dies in your throat, "who are you?"

He's quiet like he's considering, and then, "'m Rhett."

Rhett.

You don't think you've ever met a Rhett before, surely haven't met a Rhett who smiled when you uttered your name.

Whatever moment you've just built up is shattered by the rapidly approaching yelling, the shrill voice of a woman who isn't happy about your presence. Rhett peers over his shoulder, then, turning back to you, "do you trust me?"

"Define trust," you blurt, shaking free of the lasso.

With remarkable speed, he stands and mounts that three-headed mare. "Either you play your cards with a woman wielding a handmade knife," holding out his hand, "or you let me help you."

Well, when he puts it like that.

His hand engulfs yours as you take it. There's some effort required, but he's strong and quickly pulls you up onto the horse with him. It's uncomfortable being crammed up here when this saddle was clearly not meant for two.

"Hold on to me," he tells you, peeking back at you, "don't let go until I tell you to."

Mayhaps it's because you're dripping wet, but as you wrap your arms around his waist, you learn that he's remarkably warm. And as the horse starts to move, he reaches down to tuck his arm alongside yours as if they'll slip away at any given moment. You're lucky that this isn't your first time on a horse.

As the fence line disappears from view, you begin to lose track of where you're going. Everything looks the same; everywhere you look, it's the same. It's starting to feel strangely similar to the lots for sale around your home.

There's no way that this is actually happening right now. This must be some wild, fucked up fever dream you're having. There's no way this horse has three heads, and there's not a damn logical reason behind that hole you just fell through.

Yeah. This is all just a vivid dream.

Rain begins to pick up, wind beats against you like it did before you fell into the hole. It feels a little too familiar as you cling to this strange cowboy, trembling under your wet clothes. But at least he's warm.

It's a while before a dark, rustic little cabin comes into view, looking strangely similar to the abandoned one across the street from your home. It bears the same log walls, cement filling in the gaps left between, but this one has a bite-sized front porch with a little white swing that sways in the wind.

The horse stops just in front of the porch steps, and it's only now that you realize you've just about frozen to Rhett. Muscles and bones stiff with imaginary ice, struggling to detach yourself from him.

As soon as you've let go of him, he's hopping off the horse, spinning around with outstretched arms, "God, you're fuckin' cold," he hisses from the moment he touches your numb hand, "you're lucky you still have these things attached."

Beneath you, your legs feel like sticks, completely numb as you let him guide you up the stairs. The door is partially ajar, easily kicked open with his boot, but the house is warm. Hot, even, feels like the heat that first washes over your face when opening an oven.

A little kitchen sits just to the left of the entryway, but the only thing you can focus on is the crackling fireplace directly in front of you. Rhett walks you right to it and places a thick blanket around your shoulders as you sit on the floor next to the dancing flames.

With two thick fingers, he pinches the sopping wet clothing from your shoulder, chewing on his lip as he visibly thinks. Then, he ventures off through a door on your right.

The fire is hot, and you think you can feel the coldness melting from your skin, but it's hard to warm yourself when you're practically wearing a block of ice.

"These are probably too big for ya," he remarks, remerging from what you assume to be his bedroom, "but it's better than nothing."

There are folded clothes in his arms, what looks like a shirt, a pair of flannel lounge pants, and some plain socks. He sets them on the footstool just behind you, careful not to ruin his near-perfect folding of them. The way he speaks to you makes you feel like you're a pair of old friends, like this isn't the first time you've met.

"If you want to get that mud off," pointing off toward the room he just came from, "there's a shower just around the corner; help yourself to whatever you need in there."

Then, without much else, he heads for the door and mutters something that sounds like an "I'll be back in a minute" before the door shuts behind him.

It takes you approximately half a second to decide that you'll take him up on that offer.

You were right; this is his bedroom. Looks just how you'd imagine any man's bedroom to be, plain navy blue comforter, bedside table devoid of anything but a lamp, a phone stand, and what looks like an obscenely large belt buckle.

Fluffy white towels are on the bathroom sink, neatly arranged into a stack of largest to smallest. You don't think you've ever met a cowboy that was so meticulous with arranging clothes and towels.

Thunder rolls as you step under the water, the lights briefly dimming, but they don't go out. The sound of the shower barely conceals the howling of the wind, angry, daring you to venture out and face its frigid wrath once more.

You think you spend a good fifteen minutes scrubbing the mud out from every crevice of your body. Just as you believe you are finished, you find another patch, caked to your skin like glue, refusing to budge. God, it's even in your eyelashes and behind your ears. A part of you wonders if this three-in-one wash has anything to do with how hard this is to remove.

In the light, you can see that your ankle has swelled up. Not too much to be of concern, but it's a visible difference from the other one, puffy around the joint and sore to the touch. Must have injured it during one of your many falls tonight.

Come to find out, he's given you an option of two shirts, a plain black tee, and a soft, long sleeve pajama flannel that matches the pants he's given you. The shirt you choose engulfs you, the pants a little loose in some places, but they're warm, dry, and not caked with rainwater and mud.

As you lift your dirty clothes up, something hard hits the ground.

Your phone.

Huh. How long has that been in there?

It's got no service; the battery is only at half charge, but aside from that, it hasn't been affected by your escapades in the rain. The time though...how is it eleven thirty at night? It was barely seven just earlier.

Rhett's moseying about the kitchen with a basket of laundry. Perking at the sight of you. "Y'almost look like a different person," he muses, holding the basket out for you to place your soaked clothes. You feel like a different person, to be honest.

"Now, if you don't mind me askin'," making off toward the laundry room, just past the kitchen, "how did a lady like you wind up in our west pasture?"

Well...

"I'm still figuring that out...?" Because you're still processing it all yourself. Surely this is just a horrible dream; maybe you banged your head and hallucinated all of this.

Rhett's head pokes out the laundry room door, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn't say anything. That look was enough of a statement.

Calling your mother's phone doesn't work. It doesn't ring, only displays your call screen, and does nothing more. The frustration must be evident on your face because Rhett fishes his phone from his pocket, "y'can try mine," he offers, holding it out for you to take, "service is patchy out here."

But you receive the same outcome, except his phone won't even accept the number as valid. The longer you struggle, the closer together Rhett's eyebrows knit, tongue poking around in his bottom lip. On your third try, he comes over, peering over your shoulder.

"You're still missing some digits," he says after a moment.

"No?" Lifting your phone for him to see, "I have all ten."

You don't understand why he's looking at you like that, absolutely perplexed by what you've just said. He squints at your screen, reaching out to tap and expand one of your contacts. Ten digits. But then he opens his contacts, and you see...fifteen.

What the hell?

Hesitantly, your mouth starts to move, "I can tell you how I wound up there," your voice wavering, "but I don't think you're going to believe me."

But Rhett is all ears.

And so, you tell him from the strangeness of the flowers that chose to appear toward the end of November to the flower that opened up a hole to your unceremonious arrival to his west pasture. As you tell it, you realize that you've lost your flower basket somewhere in that field; the one thing you have to back up your statement.

Somewhere during your retelling, you wind up on the couch, sitting across from one another as you recount your tale. Rhett doesn't say a lot, nodding his head every once in a while, like this happens every Tuesday.

"That may explain the strange noise from earlier," he recalls, gaze fixated on the fire as the flames twirl and lick the air.

Lifting your head up from where it was resting against the couch, "there was a noise?"

Again, his head nods, slow, "my brother sent me a video of it, hold—shit."

He recoils with a pained groan, squeezing his eyes shut as he reaches behind himself, rubbing his right shoulder blade. Is that...

The image of that silver blade flickers through the darkness of your mind.

"Did she stab you?" It's more of a statement than a question; it's hard to mistake the red stain on his jacket for much else.

"Maybe," speaking through his teeth.

Still, he doesn't fight you as you reach over, urging him to turn so that you can see it better. It's easily missable, but there's a thin cut through his jacket, maybe four or so inches long, slicing through two layers of clothing and deep into the meat of his shoulder. Most of the bleeding is concealed by a bit of mud caked onto his shirt, you suppose, from a fall.

"This needs to be cleaned," how long has he been quietly putting up with this? "It's going to get infected."

"Nah, it's alright," poorly concealing his wince as he stands up, "not like I can reach it, anyhow."

"Well, I was gonna offer to do it for you," it shoots out of your mouth before you've even had the chance to process what your reply was going to be.

Your words make Rhett stops in his tracks, arms limp at his sides. Quiet, dead silent, actually, to the point that you're just about to retract your words when he looks back at you, "...okay."

He disappears into his bedroom, and through the wall, you can hear him shuffling around in there, searching, sifting through cabinets and drawers. But eventually, he comes back with a wet cloth and a white plastic box, the little red plus sign so faded that it's barely visible. Looks vintage.

It's heavy in your lap, full of all the supplies you could ever need. Bandages, creams, sprays, tweezers, safety pins, a strange assortment of oddly shaped bandaids. Everything you can think of is in here.

Rhett's jacket hitting the floor regains your attention just in time for you to get an eyeful as he removes his shirt.

Good Lord.

Those muscles in his back could go on for days, rippling under his pale skin with every movement, a display sent straight from the heavens above. Are you drooling? You think you might be drooling.

Red soaks his right shoulder, blood dried and stuck to the skin there, and it's just about what you'd pictured the moment you laid eyes on the slice through his jacket. But damn, are you glad it's not a cut on his chest. You don't see much of it, but you catch just enough to know that you'd definitely be distracted.

He sits on the floor, back to you, granting you ample access to his injury. The wet cloth does most of the work as you gently wash away the dried blood, careful of his still-open wound.

A strange sound plays through the air, loud, like a rusty gate creaking open, only deeper, unnatural. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. "What is that?"

Rhett lifts his phone from his lap, "that's what the sound was." Did that sound come from...you traveling through the hole?

"That sounds like something straight out of a horror movie," your remark earns you a dry chuckle, a slight, easily missable noise that dances around your ears like the sweetest music.

"I was convinced we had a troll on our land again," Rhett barely winces when you touch the antiseptic wipe to his open wound. Still, you can hear the pain in his tone, words becoming tight, higher in pitch. Falls quiet as you clean it properly, removing the mud and a stray piece of grass that wound up there. "Didn't expect to run into a pretty little thing like yourself out there."

Oh.

You have no reason to smile at that, you really don't, but you find your lips twitching upward.

"I—I'm sorry," evidently, your silence is getting to him, "I didn't mean to..."

"You're fine," you can't help the laugh that leaves you; at least he's not being weird about it, "I'm just too focused on your shoulder to think of words right now."

Intentionally vague, leaving him to fill in the blank incorrectly because right now, you're only focusing on how these muscles feel under your hands. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. At least this wound of his doesn't look like it needs stitches, just a bandage.

"Thank you for doin' this," he says, after a while, "I don't think anyone's ever actually..."

"No?" Holding two bandages beside the cut, internally debating which one is big enough. Hm. Seems the one on the right is the better option. "I take it you don't get hurt very often, then."

"Naw, I wind up with a new injury every week," he drawls thickly, "that there is my bad shoulder anyway."

To add to his words, he lifts both arms above his head, and you can see exactly what he's referring to. His right arm looks normal, but his left one fails to go up all the way, falling short by an inch or so.

"How did you do that?" Inquiring while you open up the packaging. His left arm is slower, too, and takes a little more time to drop back down than its companion.

His shoulders shake with a half-hearted sound, nearly making you put a crease in the bandage, "Thought I could make a livin' bein' a bull rider," the bitterness of the memory so thick that you can taste it in the air, "dislocated it in the finals. Went from first, straight to last."

With the bandage applied, he rolls his neck back and forth, cracking the joints, shoulders doing much of the same. From here, you would have never been able to tell that his left shoulder had anything wrong with it. Those muscles twitch and flex all the same, putting on a simple little show that's got you mesmerized.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last long because he soon gets up. Disappearing with his dirty clothes and the bloody cloth, leaving you to pack the first aid kit back up. He isn't gone long, reemerging into the room, pulling the ends of a black tee down over his gently defined belly.

Selfishly, you wish that he only owned two shirts. The one you're wearing and the one that was just ruined.

"Look, I know this ain't...ideal," he mutters, scratching his neck, "but how 'bout you take my bed for the night."

Your mouth opens, protest heavy on your tongue, "I don't...you don't have to give me your—"

"—and my momma taught me never to let a lady sleep on the couch," his voice firm, but his face soft, "I washed the sheets this mornin' if that makes you feel any better."

This argument was over before it even started.

As you rise to your feet, the ache in your swollen ankle blossoms into something sharp, enough to make you wince. It's barely a reaction, a squinting of the eyes at most, but Rhett's already caught it. Eyes already trained on the way you mind your foot.

"No, no, don't you even say a word," effectively killing your protests before they've had a chance to open your mouth; Rhett heads over to his fridge, "I coulda sworn you were limpin' when I found ya."

"I'm not sure what I did to it," you admit, sheepish. You really don't have any recollection of it happening. It hadn't been hurting when you fell through the hole, but adrenaline is a deceiving mistress.

Which could explain why it hurts even worse than it did while you were showering. Putting pressure on it only makes matters worse; nerves feel like they're burning hotter than a blazing wildfire. Still, you make an effort to walk back towards Rhett's bedroom, hopping along to avoid any more usage of it than necessary.

"You sure you ain't part bunny?" Chuckling at the sight of you, Rhett slowly follows after you, armed with an ice pack.

It could be the pain and exhaustion that makes this bed feel so comfortable; even sitting on the mattress feels like a cozy dream. Rhett kneels in front of you as soon as you're off your feet, taking your foot into his large hands. One on the back of your heel, the other gently manipulating it in his grasp.

"Not broken, at least," he observes aloud, "probably hurt it when you fell, and the adrenaline kept you from feeling it until later."

At least his theory is similar to yours.

He's quick to leave you in peace, passing off the ice pack and letting you know that you can find painkillers in the second drawer of the bedside table. Before you know it, he's made off with a pillow, and even from here, you can see his feet propped up on the edge of the couch. Stacked, one on top of the other.

The sheets are warm and soft against your skin, so freshly cleaned that all you can smell is the fresh linen and vague smokiness of the fire. It's almost as good as your bed at home.

Almost.

You're still figuring out if this is all real, if this is really happening, or if it's just a vivid dream. This bed, this place all feels real; even Rhett feels too real to be a figment of your imagination. But a magic hole? And that...woman?

No, that doesn't make a damn bit of sense. None of this does. If these magic holes were natural, they would have been documented long ago. They'd be common knowledge.

But the drowsiness pulling at your eyelids, weighing them down, feels pretty real.

The next time your eyes open, you feel like you've stepped into a new body.

Eyelashes flutter, momentarily blinded by the bright morning sunshine peeking through the blinds. The air is warm enough so that you aren't burning up under this nest of sheets. You don't want to move, your head full of clouds, your body as light as the comforter nestled on top of you.

Your eyes adjust. This isn't your bedroom. This is...Rhett's.

Sitting up, it all comes flooding back to you in the form of watery memories, vague and fuzzy around the edges. The flowers, the hole, the strange woman, the cowboy, and his three-headed horse. There's a peculiar squishy material under the blankets: the ice pack.

No, no, no, this isnt—

your mom's flower basket sits on the floor next to you. Battered, strands of the material stick out, the handle crushed and deformed, but it's the basket. Flowers and all. There aren't many left, but a handful of orange and yellow have survived, accompanied by some flowers you don't recall picking. Three daffodils and a handful of daisies. Rhett must have added these.

On the very top, though, lies that purple flower.

Pale petals with a darker center, with three red stigmas standing proudly. A fourth one has been crushed, lying bent alongside its companions. The little flower that your mom would have loved.

You wonder if time has passed the same for her. Selfishly, you hope your disappearance has stopped time, wherever she is. You can't imagine how worried she'd be, knowing that her daughter disappeared in a horrible storm, leaving little to no trace of where she'd gone. There has to be a way for you to get back...but how?

Considering the horse...maybe Rhett will know. Thinking back, you don't recall a trace of disbelief as you recounted the night's events to him. If the three-headed horse you saw last night was real, surely this place can't be normal.

This time, your ankle doesn't hurt as badly when you put weight on it, but it stings and is still somewhat swollen. It hurts enough to affect your stride, limping toward the bedroom door.

"Rhett?" You croak, voice echoing about the house. No response.

You can properly take in the room with the sunshine creeping through the windows. It bears the same white horizontal wood paneling as the bedroom did. Two long brown couches on either side of the fireplace and a matching, short sofa in between them. The kitchen is tiny and feels more like a hallway than anything.

Barely any decor, aside from a tall cabinet that stands next to the bedroom door, decorated in trophies, awards, and little knick-knacks of all things Western. The golden bull wearing a cowboy hat is your favorite.

"Rhett?" You try again; maybe he didn't hear you the first time.

Nothing. Must be outside. Your shoes sit in the gap between the fridge and the front door. They've seen better days, but they're dry, slipping over your feet like they always have. The door squeaks as you open it, painfully loud compared to the silence leading up to it. It takes a little effort to shut; the door a hair too big for the frame.

There's an old wooden barn off to your left, not far from the house; everywhere you look, you find nothing but rolling green pasture. In the distance lies the same snowcapped mountains that surround your childhood home, identical. Is this the same location?

"Rhett?"

Again, nothing. But at least a bird chirps in response this time.

A little dirt path leads to the barn, worn down from years of walking the same route until the grass has died and refused to return. Beside the barn sits a GMC Sierra, looking a little worse for wear and desperate for a good scrub. So thoroughly covered in dirt that you have to wipe away some of it to see its actual color.

Blue. Like his eyes.

The barn doors are wide open on either side; it feels like a tunnel, dark inside, with light pouring in from the entrances. Horse stables line the room, maybe twelve in total, with a big back room to your right and what appears to be a feed room to your left. Something's rustling around near the doors on the other side. What that could be, you're not sure you want to know.

Three-headed badger?

A portion of you wants to investigate. Maybe it's Rhett or an adorable barn cat that deserves some head pats, but rationality reminds you that you may not like what you find. The rustling growing louder is what makes up your mind.

Not today.

Turning on your heels, you leave. You've had enough life-altering escapades for the foreseeable future. Lord only knows what else you may run into, given your current luck. But walking away from the barn means walking away from your only viable idea of where Rhett could be. Glancing at the endless fields surrounding the house, there's no telling how hard it would be to find the guy.

A strange sound resonates from behind you, metal on metal. The hair on the back of your neck stands straight.

"Make any sudden move, and I'll put a bullet right between your eyes."

That's not Rhett's voice.

"Turn around."

In your chest, your heart hammers so hard that it feels like it'll throw you off your feet as you slowly turn, raising your palms to the sky. Innocent. Mean no harm.

You find yourself in the middle of Rhett's dirt driveway, staring down the barrel of a gun.

"What are you doing here?" Growling, the man steps closer. Words fail you. Stunned stupid by the gun that bumps into your nose. "You here to take Amy too? Huh?"

Stammering, your feet tangling as you try to step back. Who is this guy? Who's Amy? He won't get the gun out of your face. The barrel pressing into your trembling flesh. You step away. He steps closer.

"Answer me, bitch!" He barks, spit hitting your cheeks.

"I—" gulping, "I was looking for Rhett."

The gun doesn't lower.

"Don't you bullshit me, girl," his words drip with so much venom that it makes him tremble, "I'd know if my brother brought one of his bitches home."

Brother.

Your tongue evaporates. Language forgot. Sweat beading on your forehead. Rhett's brother clenches his jaw, breath whistling through his teeth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I—"

"Perry!" Barking so loud that it sounds like it's come down from the heavens above.

The world goes dark.

It takes you a moment to realize that you're looking into the back of a jean jacket with a rip down the right shoulder, exposing the plain white shirt underneath. Even longer for you to catch on to the fast-paced bickering, words hurled back and forth with such malice that they burn your ears.

"How about you quit waving that gun around like it's a fuckin' toy?" Rhett's nose to nose with him, teeth bared.

"This bitch is trespassing on our land and saying she knows you," Perry's stepping back and forth, a caged dog trying to get around him.

Rhett's always a step quicker. "They have a name, Perry," he hisses, "and you'd know that if you were decent enough to ask before you put a gun in their fuckin' face."

The argument is over. Not because of a loss but because Rhett walks away from it. Whatever words Perry has to add to the pot go ignored.

"Y'alright?" He's slow to approach you, allowing you to close the space if you're comfortable. When you do, he reaches out to rub dirt from your nose using his thumb, likely from the gun.

"As alright as I can be, considering the past twenty-four hours," his touch tickles, a welcome sensation to distract from the spasming of your gut.

"Are you really pretending I'm not here right now?" Perry huffs, raising his hands up, gun-free.

Rhett tilts his hat, effectively blocking his brother out, "were you the one callin' my name earlier?"

Nodding, "I can't exactly remember why I was looking for you, though."

You're only just now recognizing that his horse is off to your left, one head idly sniffing at the sparse ground below her feet. It's hard to tell what the other two are doing.

"'ts alright," chuckling, he nods toward the house, "was about to come checkin' on you myself."

If only for a moment, the two of you step back inside. Rhett's fridge is the definition of baren as he rifles through it, but he produces two breakfast rolls, says he made them this morning. They don't taste how you expect them to. At a glance, you figured they must have been some gross concoction of ingredients, but biting into it is like biting into a dream.

"Not as bad as you thought, huh?" Rhett grins around a bite of his, "I saw that look you gave me."

Has it always been this warm in here? "Only because I don't know if the food here is different." Lie.

Glancing up from his phone, "is it?"

You pause. Now that you think about it..." it's better," you conclude, and with that, you finish it.

"Good," his chest rising and falling with a silent laugh, "don't tell my mom I stole her recipe."

Rhett doesn't have the answers you're looking for, but he suspects that his father will know something. Based on the way he phrases it, it sounds like strange things happen all the time here. What kind of place is this? The cowboys where you come from would not be as calm as Rhett is.

"Takes too long to drive," Rhett explains as he walks you to his horse, "Isabel won't mind a second passenger, though."

Isabel.

Despite her unearthly appearance, the horse isn't as scary as you expect her to be. She happily accepts the pets you offer her, leaning into your touch like any other horse. In fact, everything about her is absolutely normal, aside from the head situation and her massive size.

You've ridden horses enough times to know how to get on their backs, but Isabel is so tall that you need Rhett's assistance. It's a miracle that you fit up there last night, all things considered. Once you're up there, though, it's alright. Especially not when you're graced with the opportunity to wrap your arms around Rhett. Snuggled close, your head tucked below the brim of his cowboy hat, perfectly blocking the sun from your eyes.

You learn that there are four pastures. Rhett lives in the north, Perry in the south, and their parents reside in the south pasture. He says nothing about the east one.

There's something shiny moving in the pasture as you ride through it. Too far for you to tell what it is; its location is only given away by the way the sun glints off of it. You struggle to piece it together as you ride directly toward it.

But then it clicks. "What the hell is that?"

While you can't hear it, you feel him laugh, vibrating against your skin, "you ain't got cows where you come from?"

"Of course, we have cows, genius," you retort, "but we don't have cows with shiny gold horns!"

You can't believe what you're looking at. A herd of maybe forty cows, black in color, bearing long, golden horns. At first glance at those horns, you'd thought they were longhorns, but they're much too fuzzy. The animal equivalent of cotton balls.

The words that left your mouth are enough to make Rhett look over his shoulder, eyeing you, "no?"

What kind of world is this?

A good portion of you expects to see miniature elephants next, somewhat disappointed when you don't see them. The only other animal you pass is a singular bison relaxing in the west pasture. Just beyond lies a marvelous, towering mansion. The close you get, the bigger it becomes until you can no longer comprehend if this is a house or a stadium.

"Good lord, Rhett," choking the words out, "are you sure this is a house?"

His hand squeezes one of your arms like he's trying to make sure you're still there, "still decipherin' that myself, actually."

An older woman is sitting on the front porch, a stablehand at her side who wordlessly takes Isabel off to a paddock next to the house. For the longest time, she doesn't speak. Not when she leads you inside, not when she has to pry an adventurous kitten from your pant leg, not even when Rhett asks if she's alright.

The inside of the house is just as ridiculous as the outside. Towering white walls, vaulted ceilings, glistening chandeliers, and sculptures that cost a pretty penny. A variety of kittens scamper about, tiny, too young to be taken away from momma just yet. Paintings of cowboys and horses hang along many of the walls, accompanied by pictures of Perry with a blonde woman and an equally blonde daughter.

But try as you might, you can't find any pictures of Rhett. Even when his mother leads you into the living room, you fail to come up with anything. No embarrassing school pictures, no baby photos, no nothing.

"Rhett," her voice firm, quiet, like she's afraid of being overheard, "what have I told you about bringing women home?"

Rhett begins to speak, but an older man steps into the room before he can get the first syllable out. Dark, graying hair, an equally colored beard, and a hat nearly identical to Rhett's. This must be dear old dad.

"Rhett, can I speak to you alone?" he says, smiling, but it fails to make the statement sound any less cold.

For a moment, Rhett hesitates, gaze flickering between you and his parents, until you nod and motion for him to go ahead. Then, albeit reluctant, he leaves the room without a sound.

Friendly family.

"Listen, honey," his momma begins, "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but..."

Tilting your head to the side. "But...?" Where is she going with this?

She sighs, loud, exasperated, "I know you must like my son. He's a good man. Exactly who I raised him to be."

You have no idea what she's trying to tell you, but you force a smile, pretending that you do. Sure hope Rhett is gone for a while.

"But he's a bit of a casanova; he's darn near slept with every young woman in this town," oh, that was...not what you expected her to say, "I just want you to know that before you go and get your heart broke."

With that said, she scoops up a gray kitten from the floor and leaves the room.

You feel like you've just been slapped.

What the hell just happened?

It's probably a minute or two, but you must sit there for an hour, staring at a picture frame containing a pressed flower as you try to comprehend her words. Does she think you're Rhett's girlfriend? Did Rhett not tell her how you got here? You wish you were here all for a pretty cowboy, but you're not.

Just as quickly as they'd left, Rhett and his father return. You're thankful that Rhett sits next to you again. Even though you don't know him very well, the familiarity is much welcomed after the uncomfortable experience you just had. His dad carries a large book, the binding so old and tattered that it barely holds together.

"So, Rhett tells me that you...came out of a magic hole in my pasture last night?" His father inquires after a minute.

"Picked a flower, a hole opened up, and now I'm here," you get the feeling that you're going to become sick of recounting this.

For the longest time, he stares at you as if you've grown three heads yourself. Gaze hard, but his eyes wide with unspoken recognition. Then, carefully, he begins to flip through the book's pages. You squint, trying to read the pages, but you're too far away.

"Strange things happen on this land all the time," Rhett elaborates, "our family has been documenting it for generations. If it's happened, it's in that book."

Explains the age.

You don't like how long his father looks through it. Flipping through it once, twice, gradually becoming faster with time. Rhett looks at you. You look at him.

You're still looking at each other when his dad says, "Books got nothin'."

Your expression drops. A million and one worries flicker through your psyche. Rhett's jaw tightens, the muscles flexing under the effort. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," his dad's voice raises, "what, do you not believe me?"

"Couple of months ago, Perry said a hole just like that appeared on his land and swallowed up half his kelpies," Rhett chides, leaning forward, "now, according to him, you handled it and got them back."

So this has happened before.

Abruptly, his father stands, the book falling to the floor with a resounding thunk, "how many times have I told you to stay out of Perry's bullshit?" He howls, going from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye.

Not backing down from the fight, Rhett stands and steps off to the side, away from the couches. Leading the argument away from where you're sitting. "You only say that shit when it's convenient to you," hissing, an octave deeper, "but you involve me in his business when you want me to do his work for him."

"Because it is your job as a younger sibling to cover for him while he's grieving!" Words shouted so loud that they echo, bouncing down the towering hallways of the house, shaking the paintings and the house's very foundation.

Rhett scoffs, incredulous, "it's been nine months, pops. Nine months."

As if on cue, they both yelp, stumbling away and rubbing their ears. Rhett's mom stands between them. "That's enough!" She bellows, a completely different woman from before, "Rhett, I think it's time for you to leave."

You wish you had your phone; you could definitely use the twisting of the ear technique in future ventures.

Rhett barely waits for you to catch up to him on your way out of the hose. Winding through hallways, past rooms that you know you've passed but have no memory of, everything looks the same, but it's all different spaces. He holds the door open for you, though.

"Did my mom give you a...talk while I was gone?" He inquires as you step past him out onto the porch.

Nodding your head yes, "she practically told me you were the town whore, if that's what you're asking about."

That seems to be the statement that he's looking for because his eyes roll. "She keeps telling that to every woman I so much as glance at," shutting the door behind himself, albeit a bit too hard, "I haven't slept with anyone since I was twenty-three."

"And how old are you now...?" Please don't be a hundred years old, please don't be a hundred years old, please don't be a hundred years old.

"Twenty-six," tilting his hat downward.

Oh. Well, that's a lot more palatable than what you were afraid of.

"Wow, a whole three years without sex," melodramatic as you can manage, "how have you ever survived?"

"It's easy when you don't get nothin' out of it," you can't tell if that's bitterness or jealousy leaking through his tone, drenching it.

"Get nothing out of it?" You parrot as if it'll help you decipher what he means.

"Nope."

So much for elaborating.

On your ride home, it starts to rain.

It's hard to do much of anything. Even with the weather, Rhett still has work to do, leaving you alone in this strange, unfamiliar house. Without a working phone and hardly anything to distract you from the situation. There's a television above the fireplace, but the remote is nowhere to be found.

Chores are your only escape for a while. Washing the few dishes left in the sink, making the bed, and sweeping the floors until it's pristine, without a single flaw. But even then, it's difficult to silence your thoughts. You think about your mom, your disappearance, all over again. If time passes, the same for her, and if she saw what happened.

Your head is torn between hope and horror. If Rhett told the truth about the hole, you can find a way home. His father doesn't seem keen on helping, though. What if Rhett's wrong? And wait, what happened to that girl last night? And his brother, what's up with him?

Oh, what if there's another variant of you here, and what if she's why Perry was so hostile towards you?

This is getting out of hand.

Your only option to stop your racing mind is to make a game out of organizing the shoe rack that sits by the front door. It's a disaster; shoes piled onto its shelves with little to no care. Once you're done with it, though, it's picture-perfect. Boots, dress shoes, and sandals are carefully arranged into appropriate sections, ranging from tallest to smallest.

Come to find out, the remote was also in that mess.

You don't even realize it's a remote at first. Rather than being built vertically like the remotes where you come from, it's horizontal, like a keyboard. Fitting somewhat strangely into your hand, but it turns the television on just fine.

At least Rhett has a few streaming services, all with familiar logos but different names. Prime Pictures, Hoop, and something named...Kibble. But who would have thought that this world had the same shows and movies? There are so many things to rewatch. Are they going to be the same? Different?

It's too easy for one movie to become two, and soon you lose track of how many you've started.

"Where the hell did you find the remote?"

Words as sudden as a thunderclap send your heart into your throat.

Rhett. Dripping from head to toe with rain water, cheeks covered in a thin sheen of dirt.

"Over in the shoe rack," nodding toward the door, "not sure if I want to know why, either."

He turns, casting a long glance toward his newly organized shoes, then a sheepish grin works across his face, "I uh..." rubbing his chin, "I tend to reorganize the house when I'm drunk."

You laugh. His face blossoms into a bright cherry red. Unable to form many words all of a sudden, he fishes out his phone, telling you to order any pizza you'd like while he takes a shower.

Pizza boxes are circular here.

"The fuck you mean they're square?" Rhett sputters, so shocked by your words that he has to put his slice down.

"They just...are?" You think it's got something to do with cost-effectiveness, but you're unsure. "I'm being serious; we don't have round pizza boxes where I come from."

With how he looks at you, you're not sure he believes you.

"I need to see one to believe it," that sounds like intrigue laced around his tone.

"Well, if we can figure out how to reopen the hole," you say, leaning forward, "then I can show you all the square pizza boxes in the world." And...you know, go home.

"Deal," Rhett grins like a cat, "we need to look around the west pasture and figure out where you came out at, anyway. Mash two potatoes with one fork."

Mash two potatoes with one fork. That's different.

An aggressive slam of the front door wakes you around three in the morning. The sound startles you awake, and as you sleepily call out for Rhett, you get no response. He's not on the couch, his blanket and pillow lying in a messy heap on the floor.

You expect him to be mulling around the house when you wake up around eight. Or to at least be within the vicinity of the place. Nine o'clock is the time you've set to go and visit the west pasture because his father tends to have visitors that will get in the way if you wait until any later.

That time comes and goes with no sign of him.

You shower, hunt down a vase to place your slowly wilting flowers inside, reheat some pizza, and still, nothing. This was his time suggestion; he was the one that insisted that you go early, and now the blue-eyed bastard is late to it.

If he doesn't want to come to you, fine. You'll go to him.

The land around his home is vast and unwelcoming to those unfamiliar. His property is that it's mostly flat. You noticed it yesterday when you were riding on the back of Isabela. It's nearly impossible to lose the house if you keep its silhouette within your view.

"Rhett?" You call out, "Rhett!"

No dice.

He's not in the barn, and his truck isn't here. Asshole must have left. Not like you're stuck here against your will or anything.

Isabela knickers at you as you walk past, a harmonious synchrony of three, her own little choir over in the pasture.

"Hi, Isabela," reaching out to scratch her foreheads, "you wouldn't happen to know where your owner went, would you?" You don't know why you expect a horse to respond to you, even a three-headed one.

She looks behind herself, her ears pricking like she hears something. Is that..?

"What is he doing?" Isabela can't talk, but you're pretty sure she understood every word you said because that's Rhett's truck out in the middle of the field. In hindsight, the fresh tire tracks leading toward the gate should have been enough of a clue.

It's a longer walk than you thought it would be, but still, Rhett fails to see you coming. He's got a shovel, throwing dirt into a bottomless hole in the ground. A tarp lies in the bed of his truck, audibly rustling in the morning breeze. It's covering something, but you can't quite decipher what.

"Did you forget you had something planned for nine o'clock?"

He jumps, swearing expletives under his breath, "Jesus, how long you been fuckin' standin' there?"

"Just got here," biting your bottom lip, "you're two hours late to the plans you made because you wanted to do...this?"

"Somethin' came up last night," grunting, he lifts the shovel again, spilling dirt into the hole.

Very descriptive, Rhett. Very descriptive.

"Something?" Isabela nudges you from behind, politely demanding that you give her more pets.

The shovel hits the ground with a soft sound as he marches to his tailgate. Grabbing the edge of the tarp, he yanks it upward. Revealing two severed legs, but not to a person; no, they belong to a horse. Or, they used to belong to one, anyway.

"I don't..." looking back at the shovel, then back to the house, "I don't understand."

"Perry drove home drunker than shit last night," he elaborates, tucking the tarp back down, "moron went off the side of the road and hit one of the neighbor's horses."

You're still not computing this. "So you're hiding parts of it on your property...?" So bewildered that it simmers in your speech.

"The horse is a retired racehorse worth a couple million, at least." Rhett hisses like his neighbors can hear him from here, "if they find out Perry did it, they'll sue us and take the whole ranch."

Exciting. You hope you won't be here when the law comes knocking. "Well, can we look for the hole after you're done?"

"Probably fixin' to be out here all afternoon," he says as he lifts the shovel with his foot.

"Tomorrow?"

"Probably be busy all that day, too."

Helpful. So helpful that you can feel your blood bubble in your veins, red hot, "so when can we look, huh?" It's not even like you can go by yourself. You don't even know which direction the west pasture is in, never mind how to get there on foot.

"God, fuck, I don't know, Monday?" Throwing his hands up, Rhett drops the shovel for a second time, "look, I know you're wantin' to go home, but I have to run this ranch all by my damn self. I don't have time, woman."

You're speechless. What does he expect you to do? Lay around without a care in the world until he feels like helping? Not like you've been uprooted from your entire life and everything you've ever built!

"Alright, alright," deadpanning, your feet move, turning back for the house. Then, under your breath, "with how you talk to women, you probably had to pay all those girls to sleep with you."

A shadow casts over you. "You wanna say that again?"

"I think you heard me well enough the first time," you smile, tight-lipped.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back. The cold metal of the truck presses against your skin.

"I don't think you know what you're talking about," he says, voice lower than you've ever heard.

"What, you gonna prove me wrong?" You shouldn't be taunting him when you're backed into a corner like this. But for some reason, you still do. "Call one of them up for a testimony?"

The bastard laughs, "oh, honey," his hand coming down to plant itself next to your head, "you don't need no damn testimony when I'm standin' right here in front of ya."

Your eyebrows raise. He can't possibly be suggesting..."I thought you didn't like sex?"

"Not usually, no," his head drops down as he speaks, looking you dead in the eye, "but there ain't nothin' better than watchin' a pretty woman fall apart on my tongue."

You're unsure how you feel about the heat that sparks between your legs as he sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact with you. Here you are. In the middle of this pasture, with a cowboy on his knees...for you.

One of his hands caresses your hip, thumb teasing the brim of your—no, his sweatpants. You shouldn't be doing this. You just met this guy for crying out loud!

Logic doesn't stop your hips from twitching forward into his touch.

That's all he needs to hook his thick fingers into the waistband, "no panties, hm?"

"I didn't exactly have the luxury to pack," there's more you want to say, but it's hard to when he pulls the material down until it pools around your ankles. Cold air nips at your previously covered skin, only warmed by the hot breath that fans against you.

Rhett's hands trail up the inside of your thighs, callouses tickling the sensitive skin there. It's been so long since the last time that his simple touch alone makes you start to drip. His hands continue to rise until his fingers comfortably dip between your folds, running from your entrance to your clit.

"Cute." Before you can even process what he's just said, Rhett leans forward and—

oh.

His tongue is so unbelievably hot as it presses against you, spreading you open around him. Then, one slow, flat, broad stroke of his tongue dragging from your entrance to your clit, circling it lazily. The motion pushes his hat into your belly, and as he drops back to tease your hole once more, it ultimately falls off. Leaving nothing but messy hair, perfect for you to tangle your fingers into.

And you do just that.

"That's it," he coos, voice vibrating against your swollen clit, "pull on my hair while I eat this perfect little pussy of yours."

One little tug, and he moans directly into you, laving over your clit in sloppy figure eights, and that, that. It has no right to feel as good as it does, making your hips start to writhe.

"So squirmy," big hands settle upon your hips, forcing them to stay still as he works you, rapid, quick little licks that wrench a cry right out of your throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this guy knows what he's doing. "Still think I had to pay them, girls?"

You don't recall closing your eyes, but when you find the strength to open them, you see those blue eyes peering back up at you. He smiles at the sight of you, flits his tongue against you a little harder, the tip pointed just at the right angle.

Chest heaving, you tug on his hair a little harder; your legs are starting to shake from it all, "fuck," the tone of your own voice foreign to you, "Rhett."

"God, you make my name sound like it's a fuckin' sin," growling, he pulls you close toward him, giving you no chance of escaping the onslaught of his wicked tongue on your pussy.

The sensation of him sucking on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure, heat pooling between your thighs while he keeps fluttering his tongue over it. You're whimpering out into the open air, helpless as he downright devours you like a starved man, and you're his last meal. It's been so long since the last time you felt the subtle nudge of your gut tightening that it's almost foreign.

"R-Rhett—" struggling to formulate words, "'m close."

"I know," grinning, he doesn't stop what he's doing, loudly slurping at your cunt, "come on, darlin', cum on my tongue for me."

You barely feel it coming on.

All it takes is one more suck against your clit, and you're spiraling toward the edge with no guardrail to catch you. Too much, too fast. You yank on his hair so hard that Rhett moans around your clit, a beautifully pitchy noise that sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Like a tidal wave, your orgasm washes over you. Convulsing as he licks you through it, straddling the border of too much and just enough. Lungs burning, head spinning.

Just as quickly as it had bubbled up, it fades away, leaving you a panting, trembling mess, all for him to see.

"Damn," his scruffy cheek is pressed against your hip, lazily smiling up at you like a cat who got the cream, "you're out of this world."

You could hit him.

His chin is so drenched that it's downright glistening in the sunshine, thin lips swollen, so completely, utterly relaxed against you. A totally different man from the one a few minutes ago.

"You know," carefully running your fingers through his hair, combing out the mess you've made of him, "I can't tell who this benefitted more."

He laughs, cheeks starting to turn pink, "consider it a mutual trade-off." The end of his sentence distorts around a sleepy yawn, "'m sorry, I tend to be a real ass when I'm tired."

The way he's peering up at you is awakening something. An uncanny urge to take him back to the house and look after him until he's well-rested and that lively spark has returned to his eyes. But, for the life of you, you can't understand why.

What the hell did you just do.

Taking your silence as a reply, he opens his mouth again, "whaddya say we try and make a quick trip to that pasture?"

Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

You're lucky he offers to drive you back up to the house because your legs tremor so much that you can hardly walk straight. Rhett's quick to notice it, winking at you as you stumble past him and toward the front door.

Curse orgasms and their need to fill your bladder with half the water in the Pacific ocean.

By the time you step back outside, a little more stable on your feet, Rhett's already got Isabel ready to go. She's standing next to the small porch steps, and with the added leverage, it's much easier to climb up.

"If you can't figure out how to get you home," he chuckles as you squeeze in behind him, "we're gonna have to find you a horse."

"You gonna go hit one too?" It shoots out of your mouth before you can stop it.

Lucky for you, Rhett laughs some more, "somethin' like that, yeah."

Back to the pasture again, bypassing Rhett's little stash of evidence. Should you be concerned about that horse's owners coming knocking? Probably. Are you?

Not really.

Maybe you would be if you thought about it more, but it's hard to linger on it when fluffy cows appear in the distance. With their long black fur and glistening horns, something straight out of an art piece.

"Are their horns actually gold?" You inquire. It looks damn close to real gold to you.

"Yes, ma'am," Isabela slows as you grow closer to the herd, stopping just shy of them.

One of the cows is feeling friendly, approaching you like an old friend. She's close enough for you to touch, but as you reach out, she looks at you kind of...funny, making your hand freeze midair.

"You can pet her," demonstrating, Rhett reaches out, scratching his nails against her cheek.

You're not too sure about that one. She sure doesn't seem to like it when you brush your nails over her forehead, absolutely fixated on you, as if you've just offended her to the core. Yeah, no, you probably shouldn't...

A careful hand curls around the back of your own. Slow, Rhett guides your hand to pet her forehead, up and down, in the same fashion you would pet a dog you've met. She's so unbelievably soft.

"Are all cows this soft?" You've never felt anything quite like it. Silky, a little velvety, even.

"Nah, not all of 'em," he lets go of your hand, gives her golden horn a little tap, "these right here? Solid gold, not hollow."

Their horns are entirely and utterly mindboggling, perfectly smooth and cool to the touch, not at all like you'd expect a horn to feel. How strange.

"Do you raise them for their gold or their meat?" A part of you isn't ready for the potential answer.

Rhett chews on his bottom lip, "both." He gives the cow one last head pat before Isabela starts to move again, "the gold pays for most of the expenses 'round here."

So gold is still considered valuable here. Interesting.

"But just between you and me," he continues, "lately, I've been lyin' sayin' nobody's in the gold market no more."

You have to cling to him a little tighter now that Isabela is starting to move quicker; with every step, you fear you may fall. "How come?"

"They think they're entitled to it," he reaches down, grazing his fingertips along your arms, where they're looped around his waist, "always askin' me to slaughter my cows before their time so that they can buy stupid shit."

A memory flickers into the forefront of your head. "Is that how your parents could afford that giant house?"

"You catch on quick."

The gate to the west pasture is just up ahead. While it's hard to say, you think this is where you first met Rhett. Barely even a few days ago, and yet, it feels like a distant memory, fuzzy in your head. You can almost feel the way that lasso cinched around you, catching you with such little effort.

After you go through the gate, it takes a lot of work to come up with much of anything. You know you were close to the fence that borders the end of the west pasture, but the land looks so different during the day than it does at night.

"I've got nothing," you frown, "it all looks the same."

Rhett hums. A deep sound that vibrates through your arms and up into your chest, leaving you feeling all tingly after he stops. "Y'know, I think you landed a little further down."

"How would you...?" Unless... "Rhett, were you there when I came out of that hole?"

"Sorta." You can't see his face, but the tips of his ears tint a pretty shade of ruby red, "I watched the hole open and headed off to let my dad know," he peeks over his shoulder at you, "but then I heard Autumn start screamin' and I turned back 'round."

Autumn. So that's what that woman's name was.

Up ahead, there's a patch of dead grass. Perfectly circular, maybe ten feet in diameter, brown in color, a stark contrast to the green surrounding it. Isabela stops short of it and refuses to move any closer, even as Rhett asks her to continue. Seems you'll be going on foot.

You're unsure why you feel nervous about walking closer to the patch of grass. Ideally, if it reopened under your feet, you would wind up back at home, and all of this would be over. So why are you feeling like this?

Rhett audibly sucks in a breath as you step into the circle. Like he's expecting it to swallow you up at any given moment.

No, no, no, there should be something here. A sign, a clue, something, anything. The realization of there being absolutely fucking nothing is suffocating. Brings your heart rate up until it beats in your ears like a drum. You look and look, kicking the ground as if that will force it to open.

Nothing. Nothing happens, and the only things out of the ordinary are the few remaining flowers strewn about the grass.

"If it can open up once, it can open up again," Rhett tells you, holding out his hand to help you back up, "we'll figure this out, one way or another."

You're beginning to wonder if that's truly the case.

Rhett hums the entire way back. Some slow little tune that he doesn't have a name for. It's not much, but it's enough to distract you from the sour taste this trip has left in the back of your mouth. At least for a little while.

Something possesses you to stick around while he untacks Isabela, petting her as he busies himself with unclipping various things you don't know the name for. You're thankful she enjoys all the attention because it's the only thing keeping your hands from shaking.

For the first time, it hits you. The realization that you could be stuck here for the rest of your life. There's a very good possibility that you're never getting home. That you'll never see your mom again, your friends, your old life. They'll never know what happened to you.

"You're gonna spoil that horse," you've almost forgotten that Rhett was in here with you.

"Probably," you wish you could come up with more to say, but you can hardly think up another word.

Rhett has already caught on to your mood. Doesn't say anything else, instead communicating without words. He tells you he's ready to turn Isabela out by placing his hand between your shoulder blades and giving you the slightest nudges to get you going in the right direction. Does it again when he's done with that, wordlessly telling you to head for the house.

As you step inside, you can't help but feel like something is...off, but you don't know what it is.

"Y'alright?" It's now that you realize you've stopped dead on the threshold, leaving Rhett no choice but to idle on the porch. You start to turn, but along the way, your eyes catch a glimpse of the vase sitting on the counter.

"Someone's been in here."

Behind you, Rhett stiffens, gently taking hold of your waist and pulling you back onto the porch. Eyes wide, flickering between you and the wide open door, "what do you mean?"

"When I left," gulping, "my flowers were sitting in that vase on the counter."

It's empty.

All it takes is one long gaze into the house before Rhett reaches for the door, slamming it shut. Your mouth opens, but he's quicker, "we're goin' into town to get a doorknob that actually locks."

Part 2 ♡⊹˚₊

#flowers in november #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott imagine #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #oneshot #ao3fic #ao3 oneshot #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #x reader #self insert #reader self insert #rhett abbott outer range

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lemariee · 1 year

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Chapter 8

A consistent swooshing sound of gliding wings was all she heard during her flight. It almost put her frantic mind in a sort of tranquil state. She knew a part of her was astray or perhaps even mad from isolation for taking refuge in such a sound.

After some time she felt the sudden jolt of her cage landing. The thorny door then opened and for a second Gerda was panic-stricken about stepping out. She couldn't scrape off her unusual skittish emotions. It had been months since she endured the presence of others.

She was put at ease when she noticed Celtra patiently waiting outside for her with two guards. Gerda nervously walked out and was taken aback by her surroundings. There were creatures of all kinds in what appeared to be a village. The buildings and homes varied depending on the creature. Some lived in trees while others preferred cottages. It reminded her of what Ulstead was except this was much more mystical and fey-like.

"Shortly after your imprisonment, my people reclaimed what was once theirs before humans forced them into hiding. We now have markets, homes, and means of travel. Trade between the humans has been a peaceful transition and both kingdoms have benefited largely from it." Celtra explained with a smile on her face.

Gerda was in awe at what she was seeing before her. Never had she thought such notions would be possible or could exist. She assumed the fey creatures would forever be primitive beings. However, they managed to catch up with the humans under a short period of time. Of course, she would never admit such a thought out loud. She was far too prideful to acknowledge their impossible fast advancements.

"Come. I will show you around until we reach our destination." Celtra said, gesturing for Gerda to follow.

Gerda silently followed next to Celtra with her hands tightly clasped together at her waist. She was still trapped in a state of astonishment and shock as they walked into the village. She noticed many fairies trying to sell products and food at market stands while others strolled about minding their business. Not a single one seemed to notice her, which made her wonder if it was common for humans to visit.

"Do humans come here often? They all seem so at ease with my presence." Gerda asked as she walked through the streets next to Celtra.

"Actually quite often. After trade began many humans would come here for business while others frequently visited because they love the culture and beauty we have to offer." Celtra proudly said as they headed towards a large building made of stone and vines.

Gerda noticed many horned children with small wings flying around or sitting in the grass playing. She assumed this was the destination they were heading to judging by the children's appearance. She felt somewhat nervous when some of the children began whispering and staring at her.

"Does my presence bother them?" Gerda asked in a small voice.

"No, they actually find you beautiful. I believe the color of your hair captivates them." Celtra said as she smiled at the curious children.

"Is red hair rare? I don't understand what's so beautiful about my hair when it's such a undesirable trait for humans. My hair goes against our beauty standards." Gerda mumbled recalling how unattractive her vivid hair color was to the men in Ulstead.

"Such a color doesn't exist with my people, at least not your specific shade. It resembles fire when in the sun." Celtra informed as they now stood in front of a large, wide wooden door.

With a single push the wooden doors opened revealing a massive hall that appeared large enough to fit hundreds of fey. Gerda followed behind Celtra and was a bit puzzled when there were stairs that led down onto the main floor. She imagined perhaps it was there for creatures who were unable to fly and depended on walking just like her. Unless humans had frequently visited the hall too.

She went up to the balustrade and looked down at all the fey who gathered below either conversing or lounging around waiting for whatever news was to be announced today. The hall consisted a range of different creatures that populated the Moors. She took notice of the winged dark fey whom she had grown accustomed to seeing due to her time spent around their kind.

"This special announcement must be important for so many fairies to be gathered in one setting. Let's find a spot while we wait for the arrival of our leader." Celtra announced, causing Gerda to suddenly pale.

It had been many months since she seen Borra and their last interaction was a disaster. She remembered how repulsed he was with her and was not looking forward to facing him again. Gerda had also managed to anger him during the last gathering which resulted with her being humiliated and nearly killed in front of his people. Perhaps she could completely avoid him and hide somewhere within the crowd.

Gerda silently followed behind Celtra trying to keep her head down as they maneuvered through the medley of fairies. Despite her attempt of keeping a low profile, she noticed several of Celtra's people turning to study her and whisper which in turn fueled her anxiety.

She wasn't sure what their whispers were about but so far she didn't catch any hostility. After several long minutes of walking through the crowd they decided it would be best to wait standing against a wall that wasn't so crowded.

Gerda analyzed her surroundings and noticed a raised platform that looked somewhat like a stage where she assumed Borra and whoever else the fey were expecting would stand. Her eyes were captivated by the ethereal beauty the hall held as they roamed over the arched crystal ceiling and large illuminated windows that allowed light from outside to seep through.

The crystal ceiling was covered with thick intricate vines that had bizarre yellow glowing orbs attached to them. She wondered what type of magic was capable of creating such a glow. The windows themselves also looked like they were made of glass but the bluish glowing hue gave away that it was something much stronger than glass. So much change must've happened over the time span she spent locked away.

"It's all very beautiful isn't it? You'll be surprised at what our kind is capable of creating when given the freedom to gain access and knowledge of science and modern tools. Our previous leader lived and dreamed of such accomplishments." Celtra whispered when she noticed Gerda inspecting the hall.

"I would never know nor be a part of such innovations due to my current circumstances." Gerda blankly muttered, feeling a tug at her heart.

"I disagree. Weren't you an engineer of some sorts back when you were in service of the queen in Ulstead? Perhaps Borra may find some use of you if necessary." Celtra informed almost as if she was trying to comfort Gerda.

"I'm his prisoner. It's unlikely that he would even consider me for such tasks...he can't tolerate being around me. My presence alone sickens him." Gerda hissed with her eyes now fixated on her hands feeling troubled by the thought of returning to isolation.

"Sometimes fate has other plans even for those undeserving of fondness." Celtra commented, causing Gerda to glance up at her with confusion when she noticed the small smirk on Celtra's lips.

Gerda didn't respond but pondered over why Celtra at times made such statements. Why did she put effort into Gerda's appearance? What was the point of her wearing this dress and having her hair fixed in a way that brought out her features? Perhaps she had a hidden motive of her own and Gerda was simply a pawn in her plan.

Gerda was about to search for answers but the sudden change in the crowd stopped her. The chatter turned into voices of excitement when the sound of the large doors opening grabbed Gerda's attention. She quickly became wary almost sensing the ominous presence behind them.

She squinted her eyes in an attempt to make out the two shadowed figures at the entrance of the doors. Both figures had horns and a set of wings on them which meant they were dark fey. One specific figure looked familiar with its massive wings and long pointy horns that twisted upwards. The doors closed behind them revealing Borra and a ravishing woman who was most certainly Maleficent. They both stood proud next to each other at the top of the stairs overlooking the hall.

Gerda felt her heart speed up as she gazed up at the two unyielding creatures that both hated her equally. The sight of Borra brought back horrific memories of the times he snapped her bones and held her by the throat midair with the intent of dropping her to her death.

He now looked very much like a notable, confident ruler as he stared down at the crowd with a look of superiority. He undeniably grew into the role of being a leader. She paled at the thought of what he will do once he laid eyes on her.

Gerda found herself terrified at the possibility of being in his presence once again. The whole hall appeared swooned over the pair; especially over Maleficent who resembled a goddess with her unearthly beauty and hypnotizing smile. Her long black hair was almost like fine silk as it traveled down her perfect thin form. Despite her sharp features, she was capable of bringing any man to their knees both fey and human.

They then interlocked their arms and walked down the stairs creating more voices of excitement from the crowd. Gerda couldn't pull her eyes away from them as they both made their way through the now clear path before them. Her attention was drawn onto Borra as he proudly walked beside Maleficent.

As odd as it sounds, Gerda didn't find his appearance as repulsive like she once did when she first met him. She had grown use to his kind and their looks. Despite her newfound perspective on his appearance she was absolutely terrified of him.

"They look very fitting together, I'm surprised they're not yet a mated pair." Celtra lightly whispered to Gerda.

Gerda then turned to Celtra with a baffled expression as several questions ran through her mind. They certainly did look ideal together so it was a surprise that they weren't properly mated yet. Their ways were so different in contrast to humans. Usually those of high born status were arranged to be married.

"They aren't a mated pair? I was under the impression for some time that he had taken a mate since he is a leader." Gerda said feeling surprised that Borra had no mate despite his position of being a leader to his people.

"Maleficent is a woman who can't be tamed. Rumor has it that Borra offered to have her as his mate to help lead his people beside him but she denied such an offer. She is a true queen of her own. Though it is said she had been spotted on several occasions visiting his castle and spending the night in his chambers." Celtra informed as her eyes followed them.

Gerda felt her cheeks blush, comprehending what Celtra meant when she said Maleficent stood many nights in Borra's chambers. Such a thought was something she felt uncomfortable knowing, especially since she was not experienced in that particular subject.

She quickly shifted her repugnant thoughts towards the news of his castle. Gerda always thought his kind were not advanced enough to build large structures. Evidently she was wrong judging by the construction and features of this place.

Her thoughts were paused when she noticed the menacing pair now standing on the raised platform with several other winged fey behind them. Gerda supposed they all held a position of power within Borra's circle. The room soon grew silent when Borra raised his hand and stared at the crowd with hard eyes.

"We are all here today to celebrate a new brighter future for our people. Our union between the humans grows stronger and we have been making progress with trade and developments in our kingdom. As you can clearly see around you, we are slowly but surely thriving as we find new methods to build and protect our lands." Borra said, gesturing to the windows and ceiling, earning a round of proud chants from the crowd.

"Despite it all I believe it's time we show our appreciation to the one who was behind it all. Without her help our people would still be living in fear and hiding in the shadows. We would be hunted down and perhaps driven into extinction by those who hated our very existence." Borra continued causing Gerda to feel somewhat self-conscious knowing she was part of those who hunted his kind down.

"With the help of Maleficent, this entire kingdom has prospered and our people thrive in freedom." Borra said nodding his head towards Maleficent.

The whole room was then filled with roars of cheers making Gerda feel misplaced. She glanced around her, noticing how much his people actually admired and glorified him. While the rest of the room was standing and praising him on, Gerda decided it would be best if she remained nonexistent and attempt to avoid catching attention. The room once again calmed down when Borra proceeded to speak again.

"Not only are we here to show our appreciation but we are also here to celebrate the birth of Queen Aurora's son. We will gladly welcome her son as one of our own and look forward to the bright future he will have." Borra said finishing off his speech as the crowds chants grew.

The platform then lowered itself onto the ground before disappearing beneath them into the marble floor. A large table formed in front of them supported with vines and pastel flowers caressing it. Small fairies brought out chairs for them to sit while others brought forth an abundance of food and drinks.

Music soon filled the room while fairies fluttered around carrying trays with drinks and appetizers. Gerda had no idea what to do with herself other than stand with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She felt uncomfortable wondering if it would be best to to avoid any type of contact.

"I suppose now would be a good time for me to congratulate Maleficent on her wonderful news. This opens an opportunity for Borra to strengthen our kingdom now that Aurora successfully produced an heir with the prince." Celtra said with a bright smile on her face.

"I-I assume it would be but is it possible for me to wait here? I doubt my presence will be welcoming to...them." Gerda explained with her body already unsteady at the thought.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. Many of my people recognize you and I wouldn't want a repeat of what happened the last time you were left alone. Borra would surely be furious if I were to leave you unattended again." Celtra said with a frown.

"I understand." Gerda replied in a tight voice.

"Come, before the crowd grows thicker, there's already a line forming to greet them." Celtra insisted as she grabbed Gerda's wrist and maneuvered through the crowd of celebrating fey.

Gerda's body felt like ice as they made their way to the main section of the hall. It had been a while since she been around others and she was at her peak. She felt as if the room was closing in around her and breathing soon became impossible. Just as they reached the very end of the table she tried to focus on calming her rattled nerves. She lightly inhaled and exhaled while they patiently waited their turn greeting each member of Borra's circle.

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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

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Curiosity Killed the Cat

Dragonsploosh

Summary:

A stranger arrives at Phantomhive Manor claiming he needs the assistance of a Demon that is rumoured to reside there. Unfortunately all he finds are some servants, eager for gossip. What will they do when the Young Master and Mr.Sebastian arrive home to find such tall tales being spun? And how will they react when it seems like they might not be such tall tales after all.....

Work Text:

It was a cooks job to chop up these onions and then sauté them to put in tonight's stew, but the damn things needed to be so small it would take me ages to get through the lot. There had to be a shortcut for this sort of thing. I found some twine in a side drawer, laid four of my knives parallel to each other, and tied them together feeling smug. I was a genius. When I felt they were secure I picked them up by the handle of one of the middle ones and brought the lot crashing down over the three large onions on the chopping board.

Big mistake. The twine didn't hold quite as well as I had hoped, and the knives flew apart as well as the onions flinging themselves from the counter top and I almost severed my big toe in the process.

Mey-Rin came scurrying in as I looked about at my mess wondering what had gone wrong. More twine next time? More knives?

"Bard, you've made a right pigsty in here yes you have!" She said, not sounding at all upset. "You are lucky Mr. Sebastian and the Master aren't here or you'd be given a seeing to all right!"

Yeah that was true, the last time I'd tried to cook fairy cakes with my blow torch to speed things up a bit I'd had all my explosives confiscated and had to wash all the pans by myself for three days. There was no need for anyone to find out about this little experiment.

"It's not my fault these knives as so flimsy! They just can't take a man's strength!" Okay the knives were solid steel but maybe that just made it more impressive. At any rate, she helped me clear all the onion parts from the floor while I hid the evidence of the knives and twine. Her glasses slipped down her nose every time she leaned forward too far and she had to keep on pushing them up. It was kind of cute.

Anyway, we were making small talk about what we thought the Young Master and Mr. Sebastian were going to bring back from town when Snake came bursting through the door. His usual calm and aloof demeanour had shifted a bit and he looked quite animated for a change.

"'There's a man at the door' says Oscar" he informed us.

"What? I didn't hear anything!" said Mey-Rin standing up and wiping her onion hands in a dishcloth.

"He's approaching from the-" Snake began but was drowned out by the obvious booming of the door knocker, echoing from the front of the Manor. "Says Emily" we heard him finish as the knocks trailed off.

"Well whoever could that be? The Young Master isn't expecting anyone" said Mey-Rin as we all headed for the door. Snake trailed slightly behind.

"Hey aren't you supposed to be a footman?" I asked him. Surely he could have answered it, but it didn't matter anyway because I could hear Finny's excitable voice coming from outside and the doors were flinging open just as we reached the reception area.

He must have been trimming the grass, he left a slight trail as he walked through leading a rather strange looking young man with dishevelled clothes that obviously belonged to someone of a lower class background. His brown hair was neat but his eyes were wild and they flashed around the room quickly before he entered.

Finny seemed to think there was safety in numbers and headed towards us where we lingered in the doorway leading to the servants quarters and the kitchens. "This is George Seymour" he said, looking a bit unsure but his voice sounding just as cheerful as always. "He's insisted to meet with the Young Master. But he's not here right now....." He informed us unnecessarily.

This guy was just stood in the middle of the room looking really out of place opposite the grand staircase, and it seemed I'd have to take charge since no one else was doing anything. I moved a bit closer to him and introduced myself, explaining that the Master was seeing to a few errands in town.

"I have to see 'im! I'll wait here all day if I have to" The guy, Seymour, said a little rudely. He hadn't even made an appointment and he was acting like I was turning him away for no good reason.

I looked to the others for a little support, which was pointless. They just looked as if they were watching some play.

"Look, you can come back tomorrow maybe but I don't even know if he'll see you then. I can try and see if he'll schedule you in, but he's pretty busy..." I trailed off lamely, hoping this guy would get the hint and leave. Why had Finny actually let him in?

I was taken by surprise when George sank to his knees, utter despair on his face, and started shaking like he was about to cry or something. "You don't understand, I need to see 'im!' His voice shook and I could feel the desperation coming from him. "'E's the only one that can save 'er!"

Now this was getting weird. Another look at my colleagues revealed them to be enraptured in this little show and Mey-Rin nodded at me encouragingly, whatever that meant.

"Errr Sir.... Please get up off the floor" I managed weakly, feeling a bit embarrassed by the whole thing. He really had started openly sobbing at my feet now.

A few awkward moments of me not knowing where to put myself and the drama wasn't enough, apparently, because Mey-Rin came marching over looking all eager and knelt down right next to him.

"Did you say someone needs rescuing?" She asked him a little too brightly. That girl does have a fondness for dramatics.

George sniffled and nodded, looking at her gratefully. "My sister. She was taken a few weeks ago and I've been trying to find 'er. She were stolen away by a demon".

Mey-Rin looked more excited by the second and the others were creeping closer to hear the story better. "A demon? Really?" Finny asked. Those idiots believed everything they heard, not a trace of doubt on their faces, just plain eagerness.

"Saw 'im meself! Like a dark shadow with red glowing eyes, I came running when I heard 'er scream to see it snatchin' 'er away. Would have gone after them too but he took 'er right through the mirror".

"Mirror?" Okay that was me this time. It was a pretty unique story I had to admit.

"Oh, yeah" He told me. "Big old mirror in this guest house we was staying in up in York. Was on our way up North to visit our Mams sister and this place were pleasant enough. 'Ad this lovely big mirror behind the bar there. Anyway as I say, I ran out my own room as soon as I 'ear 'er scream and she's in the room opposite but, before I can get in, this shadow comes out into the hallway carryin' 'er somehow as it went down the stairs. I goes after them, shouting like anything when it goes straight for that mirror and disappears. Nothing left at all. I know it do sounds crazy but I can't've imagined it. Had the whole Inn looking for 'er the next day. Nothing. No way to get through that mirror either, I tried. So I've had to try elsewhere, asking all sorts for the right information what can 'elp 'er. Had to sell off a lot of me belongings to get this far. Got a few wanting to waste me time too, thinking I'm having them for a laugh. But a few days ago I got somewhere. Someone what knew stuff. Real reliable like, I'd swear on it. And this bloke, 'e told me that this is where I'll find someone what can 'elp. Phantomhive Manor."

There was an awed silence, the tale sounding eerie indeed. Finny was the one to break it.

"And you think the Young Master can help you fight a Demon?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"All as I know is this guy, 'e knew things, and 'e said the only way to fight a Demon is with a stronger Demon. A Greater Demon, 'e called it. And that I'd find what I needed 'ere.

Whoa. Mey-Rin looked beside herself with excitement. "You're saying the Young Master is a Demon??" she asked him enthusiastically.

Snake looked deep in thought, as he had through all this, and Finny was looking a little scared at the front door. Again, it looked like I would be the one to take control over this situation.

"That's quite a wild accusation, you know. You don't want to be going around saying stuff like that to everyone".

"No, no" he waved his arms quickly "I'd never tell anyone, and I'm sure your Master is a respectable........ man. I'm not 'ere to judge anyone, just to get help for me sister. I'll do anything, I swear!" He had that desperate look again. He seemed quite genuine and it didn't look like we'd be getting rid of him any time soon.

"We'll get some tea while you wait, then. But you might want to watch your words when they get back. The master has quite the temper".

The guy stood up from the floor looking all grateful but with a wariness in his eyes. He was probably picturing some terrifying Demon. Just wait till he saw the little 14 year old Lord.

George Seymour was seated in a fairly large, lesser used sitting room on the first floor sipping some green tea that Tanaka had helpfully made when Mr. Sebastian and the Young Master returned from their shopping trip. We were all gathered near to the front window waiting anxiously, and witnessed Sebastian carrying a ridiculous amount of boxes while the Young Lord looked to be complaining animatedly about something or other, a scowl on his face. We hurried to open the doors for them and something must have seemed amiss because he trailed off and gave us an enquiring expression as he strode past.

"Well?" He asked us. Mr Sebastian was setting the packages aside and also looked curious.

"There's a gentleman here to see you, Sir, goes by the name George Seymour. Needs your help with something important, he does" Mey-Rin babbled at him.

The Young Master sighed and raised a hand to his face. "And you let him in? He has no appointment for an audience with me and I'm quite busy. Please give him my apologies" He said brusquely, moving towards to stairs to retreat into his study no doubt.

"But he needs your help to fight a Demon!" Finny said at his back, and Mey-Rin nodded enthusiastically. I might have also seemed a little eager - it's not every day we get to fight the supernatural. I mean, some days sure. But not every day.

The Young Master stopped in his tracks at that, but didn't look around.

"He did seem pretty desperate" I said, as if that excused our behaviour at hosting an uninvited guest. Curiously, I saw him turn to look at Sebastian who had also stopped a few steps behind him. I couldn't see their faces but they were obviously having a moment, one of those unspoken communications they seemed to have sometimes.

"Take me to him" commanded the Young Lord, eventually turning around. This really was getting interesting, and I wondered what that look meant. I felt quite impatient to see where this was going while we lead them to where Seymour waited nervously.

When we entered, he sat rigidly in his chair with his hands screwed up in his lap. He hesitated a little too long before standing and giving a polite bow, proclaiming himself to be George Seymour in desperate need of the Earls help. Amusingly, he directed this whole thing at Sebastian instead of Ciel.

Sebastian wasted no time in making the proper introductions, embarrassing Seymour greatly, and offering to fix them a light lunch. The Young Lord was furious, and ordered an especially tall chair to sit on which Sebastian fetched immediately before disappearing off to the kitchen. I hoped the onion smell had died down a bit in there. Sitting on his tall chair, Ciel listed impassively as Seymour recounted his tale once more, being a bit more careful around the part where he had to say that a Demon resided here. The indication was still there though. He had just finished his story when Sebastian returned with a tiered plate full of sandwiches and scones, shooting us a glare as we loitered around trying to look busy. No way was I missing this.

"So you were given specific information that I, Ciel Phantomhive, am not in fact human?" he asked with a smirk. "Quite a jest, don't you think?"

"Not precisely worded that way, but it was a reliable source and I paid a great deal of money for it! They swore it was the truth that a Demon lived here and he was strong enough to get Martha back from the mirror!"

"Can you even hear yourself, Mr. Seymour? I'm sorry for the loss of your sister, truly I am, but tales of Demons and mirror worlds aren't going to bring her back".

"No I saw it, it's not a tale! And you don't understand, this guy that told me to look here, he was...."

"He was what, precisely? A jester?"

"Not human".

The revered way he'd said that, even I couldn't doubt him. Whether true or not, he really believed in what he was saying.

"In what way, Mr. Seymour" asked the Young Master quietly. He was looking over at us now, Mey-Rin with a duster in her hand doing barely anything, Finny the gardener pretending to clean some windows and me and Snake plumping cushions repeatedly on the sofa by the door. We were going to get asked to leave before we could hear anything good, I knew it. I wondered if Sebastian would be kicked out too - he was on hand to serve tea so probably not. Maybe we could ask him about it later, though he wasn't much of a gossip unfortunately.

"'E had these eyes" said Seymour quietly "the same as I'd seen from what took Martha. Bright red like you wouldn't believe with black slits like a cat. I'd recognise those Demon eyes anywhere" he shuddered.

"If this was a Demon as you claim then why could he not be the one to help your sister? Why direct you here?"

"'Cause apparently only a Greater Demon can open the portal an' have any chance of retrieving a person back out. And the only domesticated Greater Demon in England resides here. That was what the.... the guy said, at least". He looked around the room a little deflated, apparently not finding the Greater Demon he had been hoping for. I saw Sebastian mouth the words 'domesticated' at Ciel, which seemed a little peculiar to me.

Mey-Rin was looking around wildly as if she expected the Demon to just pop up from behind the curtains. She seemed disappointed when there was nothing out of the ordinary and abandoned her dusting altogether to give me a puzzled shrug. I shrugged back, when I heard the sound of a cup smash and spun around to see Seymour cowering in his chair, cup shattered at his feet with Sebastian smiling politely next to him. It seemed he had gone to refill Seymour's cup when the man had baulked, shrinking as far away from our butler as he could.

That was when the Young Master turned his attention to us. "Get out" was all he said, in this quiet voice and the atmosphere had grown so thick we were torn between needing to stay, find out what was happening and run from the room before we could get caught up in it all. Under the firm gaze of Ciel we were forced to choose the latter, with Mey-Rin giving a polite "yes Master" before we left as composed as we could.

We didn't go far though. No sooner had we shut the door behind us than we spun round fighting for space to press our ears to the door. We did this surprisingly quietly, with Snake winning the most room since no one wanted to get too close to his snakes. Dimly, we still managed to hear the voices through the wood of the door and I was grateful we had chosen this room, echoey as it was.

"What are you?" We heard Seymour ask in an timid but awestruck voice. Was he talking to Sebastian? He must be, as Sebastian's unmistakable voice replied with his usual pronouncement. He was simply one hell of a butler.

"No, you can't be, I saw it!" said Seymour, sounding a little more confident now. "Please, you 'aff to help 'er! I knew it! You're 'ere!"

"Whether I am here or not makes no matter. I am a butler, am I not?" replied Sebastian a little cryptically.

"Well yes. I mean, no-"

Ciel joined the conversation once more, his voice authoritative. "Mr. Seymour I should not have to repeat it but you can clearly see that this is my butler. Perhaps you can use your imagination and understand why it might bother me to have an uninvited guest telling tall tales to my staff and accusing a butler of Phantomhive of being something other than human. Would you not agree that is troublesome?"

Seymour seemed to have lost the ability to speak. There was the sound of some spluttering before Sebastian's strong voice filtered over it "I should be interested to hear the name of whoever recommended the name of Phantomhive to you. My masters reputation is at stake, you see, and that will not do at all".

"I never told anyone, I swear" Seymour gasped, sounding much more frightened now. Whatever was going on in there?

"The name please, Mr Seymour" intoned Ciel.

A long, tense pause ensued before, and I strained to listen as I heard Seymour say quietly "'E made me promise not to tell, said 'e'd know if I did".

"That's the least of your problems, I assure you" said Ciel dangerously.

I heard a few footsteps and the scrape of a chair before Sebastian's voice seemed to fill the room and my own head, somehow different than normal and..... unnerving. "Come now" he said. "Don't you require my assistance? I'll give you whatever you need if you simply tell me that name....."

Something was whispered in there, I looked at the others but their expressions told me that they hadn't heard it either. Suddenly I jumped as there came the bang of something heavy hitting the floor followed by a ringing jangle as if something metal were rolling around. Another quieter thud. Then silence.

I heard the sound of my own heart thudding in my ears louder than anything else. It was so loud I felt that everyone must be able to hear it. I backed away from the door quietly, feeling like the wood itself had gone cold. Something just felt wrong, a feeling in my gut that the others seemed to share. Despite the sun still shining outside, everything had gotten much darker and all colour seemed leeched from the hallway we stood in. Finny was the first to run, throwing himself down the corridor much too loudly and then we were all following, racing down towards the kitchens. I heard the door of the sitting room open just as we rounded the corner but I didn't look back.

We caught our breath leaning over the island in the middle of the kitchen. Mey-Rin went to the sink after some minutes to pour a glass of water and ended up smashing it all over the floor, right over a few chunks of onion that she'd missed picking up earlier. We all jumped at the sound, even Snake looking unnerved. We worked together to clean it up in silence, and I saw that I wasn't the only one with shaking hands.

When we were done I offered to pour the water, which I managed without further disaster, and we sat around sipping, listening to the sounds of the house around us. Nobody said a thing, but since arriving in the kitchen there had been an eerie groaning and creaking to the Manor that usually only occurred on cold, windy nights. It was a sunny and clear late afternoon right now.

We noticed just how loud it had been when everything suddenly fell silent. I listened intently, making eye contact with the others and moving just that little bit closer when the kitchen door banged open, making us jump a second time.

Sebastian stood there, though I had not heard his footsteps. He looked completely unruffled with a polite smile on his face which did nothing to comfort the sense of foreboding that had been creeping over me.

"Ah, there you all are" he said business- like "I have some changes in schedule this afternoon, though I see you weren't following it all too closely anyway". He was reprimanding us for not doing chores? "Firstly, Snake I'd like you to prepare for a short drive into town. I believe you know the directions to the local guesthouse, they will be expecting you. Mey-Rin if I could trouble you for one of your shawls and a topcoat I'd be most grateful and I assure you they will be replaced as soon as possible. Finny and Bardroy if you could see the carriage ready, I believe some different horses will need harnessing after our previous trip. That is all for now".

He left the room before we could even get out a "yes, sir" and we curiously rose to perform our duties, if a little reluctantly.

Finny and I saw to the horses, as instructed, and cleared several sweet wrappers out if the carriage itself. Snake joined us wearing his outdoor clothing and checked the reigns, ready for his excursion. I turned when I heard the Manor doors open again behind us, and saw a most unusual sight. Seymour was supporting a thin young woman with mousey brown hair and a nightdress, Mey-Rins shawl and coat wrapped around her to afford a little more decency. As she drew closer I could see a vacant look in her eyes, though she did appear able to bear most of her own weight. Sebastian assisted them in to the carriage before placing a suitcase in with them that I distinctly recognised as one of the Young Masters. It must have been heavy, as it made a loud 'thunk' when set down.

"Thank you so much, you don't know what this-" Seymour started to say in a quiet, shaky voice, but was cut off by Sebastian who leant his face in through the carriage window to whisper something that made Seymour grow pale. I tried to edge a little closer to hear what was being said but Sebastian drew back and went to speak to Snake. Finny had come to stand with me and we watched the carriage leave in silence when Sebastian gave the go ahead. When it had travelled down towards the gate a ways he turned and instructed us to continue on with our schedule, brushing past us and in through the doors. There was plenty to do, apparently.

You would expect everything to change after that, but it didn't really. Sure we were a bit shook up by the whole thing, and I did believe for a second that something evil had emerged and slaughtered a helpless stranger feet away from us. But that obviously wasn't what happened and I felt like an idiot for letting myself get all superstitious. A few noises and a scary story were enough to rattle me after all my years spent in the Military and the things I'd already done for the Earl of Phantomhive, who'd have thought it. Something had gone on in that room though, that was undeniable. That girl showing up was enough to prove that. But who was I to judge - I knew that we could be a science experiment, sniper, a circus freak and even a Demon and together, we would always be the good guys. This was Sebastian and he saved people, just like he'd saved us. No one else would ever understand what we stood for but in my heart I knew this family would always do the right thing and protect those who needed it. No matter what.

Even when the paper showed me a headline a few days later of George Seymour's body being found in the Thames. Suicide, it said, after being so distraught at the loss of his sister a few weeks earlier. It was reported that he'd become insane in the weeks after her disappearance, and had eventually leapt off of Blackfriars Bridge. There was no mention of the young woman I'd seen him leave the Manor with.

I don't know if the others read it or not. Best not to dwell too hard on these things. If I learnt anything in the army it was to focus on the positives and be thankful for what you have.

And we were a family.

#black butler fanfiction

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absynthe--minded · 3 years

Note

hey do you think the two trees had vines and lit Valinor like tiktok fairy lights? What is the suspension method, and do you think ungoliant ate them like spaghetti? (Separately, I wonder if the trees can cross aman's physical/liminal space into the Halls??)

I feel obligated to say that I am torn in two because on the one hand this is the coolest idea ever but on the other I don’t actually think it is what happened, but I mostly want to gush about how awesome I find this

the concept of vines on the Trees is actually ridiculously cool from an aesthetic perspective and I love it so much (the sheer potential of the Vanyar illuminating their homes with tendrils and vines and offshoots!!! roots running along the grass and blazing gold and silver! UGH I love it I love it.)

but from a like. logistics perspective. are we talking parasitic vines or do the Trees just exist outside our normal understanding of botany so they have both woody branches and stems and long tendril vines? this would mean a scaffolding system to carry the vines like power lines away from Ezellohar, did that get destroyed when Ungoliant came around? did people try and save the vines in their homes as their light faded? was there property damage akin to what we’d lose if somebody grabbed up a power cable and yanked it out of a window? what do the Trees actually look like in this scenario, are they really trees or are they eldritch things that only vaguely resemble trees?

fuck this concept is gonna live rent-free in my mind now

in answer to your second query! because otherwise I’ll just keep talking about big good eldritch spaghetti trees forever.

I think that it’s quite possible that the light did cross liminal spaces into Mandos. Maybe not as a bright illumination? But like. You could see where the Trees were at any point in relation to yourself, and nobody really understood why that was until they died and suddenly didn’t exist anywhere. Yavanna handles plant death but their ghosts still linger, etc.

oh ghost Trees in the Halls, just. there. not growing, not blooming, not shining, cold hollow echoes of their past selves. fuck that’s a cool image and thank you for putting it in my brain.

#tolkien #erotetica #replies #absynthe's meta

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obx-adventures · 3 years

Text

The Story

Summary: You and JJ had a moment and he blew it. Now you’re dating someone new but JJ thinks the new guy isn’t what he seems.

----

“John B! JB! Are you home?” I run up the stairs to the Chateau’s porch and barge in without knocking. When I don’t see my best friend in the living room, I run into his room, only to find it empty. I growl in frustration and run back outside to see if the HMS Pogue is there.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” I jump and clutch my heart as I spin around to the new voice.

“JJ?” His frame is still hidden in the shadow of the porch but he’s the only other person who would be here. “Where’s John B?”

“He’s with Sarah.” JJ looks concerned as I walk back to the porch. “What’s going on?”

“Ughh, shit,” I grumble as I throw myself onto the porch’s couch.

“Is everything ok?” Even with my head resting on the back of the couch and my eyes closed, I can hear the worry in his voice.

“Yea, I just needed to talk to JB.”

“Is it something you can talk to me about?” I lift my head up, peak open my eyes, and study the disheveled blonde that is suddenly sitting next me.

“Well… I guess I don’t have much choice.”

“Ouch…” I cringe at my lack of tact and feel guilty when I see the genuine pain flash across his features. “Look, I know we aren’t as close as we used to be but you can still talk to me.”

“Sorry, JJ. I didn’t mean it like that.” I tentatively reach out to pat his hand but chicken out and let my hand fall.

“Yea you did but it’s alright.” JJ shakes his head a little as if he’s trying to forget a bad memory. Before I can try to comfort him, he puts on a false smile and steers us back to the topic at hand. “What’s on your mind?”

“You know that new server at The Wreck? Tom? Well, he asked me out.” JJ has to lean closer to me to hear everything I say since my voice drops almost to a whisper as I realize how awkward this is for us.

“Oh… what does that have to with JB?”

“I wanted to see what he thought about it.”

“You ask JB for his opinion before you go out with someone?” JJ knows that John B and I are really close but he didn’t think John B was so involved in my love life.

“Yea… ever since the debacle between us…” I let my voice trail off completely and I wish I could disappear right here and now.

“Oh…” JJ’s hand goes to the back of his neck and he averts his eyes. I’ve known JJ for almost as long as I’ve known JB and I’ve never seen him look so ashamed. Is he really this embarrassed by what happened or does he feel bad? Now isn’t the time to get into this though so I decide to diffuse the tension.

“JJ, it’s ok.” This time I actually let myself grab his hand and he freezes in place. “We’re ok now. I just didn’t think through my decisions with you, so I try to talk it out with him beforehand to make sure I’m being…”

“Smart?” JJ interjects when I can’t find a diplomatic way to finish my thought.

“Yea… I’m sorry, JJ.” I offer him a half smile and hope he understands.

“Don’t be.” JJ rests his hand on top of mine and gives me a small squeeze to reassure me. He releases my hand quickly and I pull my hand back, a little bit of awkwardness still in the air. “So, do you like Tom?”

“I mean I don’t know him that well, but I think so. He’s a kook so that made me a little nervous but Kie knows his family and says they are good people.”

“If he’s a kook, why is working at The Wreck?”

“His parents don’t want him to be a spoiled asshole like Rafe and Topper. So that’s a good sign, right?”

“Sure.” JJ’s eyes screw up in concentration and I let him think for a moment. “When he asked you out, did it seem like he assumed you would say yes?”

“Uh, no. He was pretty nervous.”

“That’s good, at least he doesn’t have a big ego like most kooks. Did you like him before he asked you out?”

“What do you mean?” I can’t tell if JJ’s prying or trying to be helpful, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Well, have you been hoping he would ask you out?”

“Uh, I didn’t really think about. Why?”

“Then I guess you need to ask yourself if you want to go out with him because you like him or because you like that he wants to go out with you.”

“That’s actually pretty insightful, J…”

“No need to act so surprised.” For the first time since my arrival, he gives me real JJ smile and I can’t help but smile back at him. “So what are you going to do?”

“I think I’m going to say yes and see how the date goes. Thanks, JJ.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek, something I haven’t done since everything happened between us. He seems momentarily surprised but pulls me into a hug on instinct. I stay in his arms for a moment but pull myself away before my emotions get the best of me.

I’m glad that he and I becoming more comfortable around each other again, but I still have my guard up. I can’t let myself forget that he broke my heart.

----

It’s been three months since Tom and I went on our first date. JJ was right that I only liked Tom initially because he wanted to go out with me. But, that changed quickly as I got to know him. He’s smart and kind, driven and focused, and treats me like a princess. He also gets along with the Pogues. The first meeting at the Boneyard was a little rough but Kie scolded all the boys before inviting him back for day out on the marsh. All the guys could see how happy I was with him and decided to give him a real chance.

Our three-month anniversary just so happened to be on Pope’s birthday, so I told Tom that we needed to spend some time at the Chateau before we went out for dinner. I could tell everyone was already pretty drunk when we arrived, but I missed any signs that something was wrong with JJ until it was too late. If only I had stayed outside with everyone instead of running into the house to get a sweater.

“Hey, Y/N…” I jump and clutch my chest in surprise.

“Shit, JJ. You scared the hell out of me!”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s ok.” I move closer to him and try to make out the expression on his face. “Why are you sitting in the dark by yourself?”

“I was just thinking.”

“Dude, it’s Pope’s birthday. Stop being such a downer and come party with us before I have to go.”

“Y/N, I need to talk to you…” He reaches out and grabs my hand, stopping me before I can get back to the door. I stop and study his face before sitting down next to him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I place a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, I’m the last person who should be talking to you about this, but I can’t let this go on any longer…”

“What’s going on, J?”

“You know how I cut the Cameron’s grass?” I nod and he continues. “Well, I saw Tom there this morning.”

“What? Why? He’s not friends with Rafe.” Tom has told me multiple times how Rafe is a dick who gives all kooks a bad name.

“That’s not what it looked like. They were smoking pot and laughing like they know each other.”

“Tom doesn’t smoke, JJ.” I tease him all the time about how it could help him relax.

“I’m telling you, he was there.” JJ shakes my hand from his shoulder and stands up to pace in front of the couch. “And they were talking about you. I heard Rafe ask when Tom was going to close with you. Tom said tonight’s the night. And Rafe said ‘well it better be or the bet drops down to $50.’ Tom laughed and told him not to worry and he would have you screaming his name before the midnight deadline.”

“What the fuck, JJ?!” The full weight of what he just told me hits me like a ton of bricks.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry…” He sits next to me and places his hand over mine, trying to comfort me.

“No!” I forcefully pull my hand back and stand up to get away from him. “Look, I know you’ve never liked Tom, but you can’t just make something like this up! It’s cruel!”

“I’m not making this up, Y/N!” JJ pulls on his hair in frustration but tries to settle himself down to talk to me. “I swear, he was there, and I heard them say all that shit.”

“Fuck off, JJ!” I push away from him and storm out.

“Wait, Y/N!” JJ follows me outside and tries to catch my arm before I get down the porch stairs. “Please just listen to me!”

“Go to hell! I can’t believe you!”

“Whoa, what’s going on?” JB asks, looking between his two best friends.

“It doesn’t matter.” I look around for my boyfriend and gather up my stuff. “Tom, let’s go.”

“What happened?” John B and Tom ask at the same time.

“Y/N, wait!” JJ shouts over them as I walk to Tom’s car.

“JJ, stay the fuck away from me.” I tell him as I get into the car without looking back.

It takes every ounce of my strength to keep myself from crying. Tom quietly climbs in, starts the car, and tries to catch my eyes before he pulls out onto the road.

----

After dinner, we go back to Tom’s house and he leads me up to his room. I’ve been quiet since we left the Chateau, trying to understand why JJ would say all those things about my boyfriend.

“Y/N, can we try to get past whatever happened tonight with you and JJ and try to enjoy our three-month anniversary?” Tom asks as we walk up his stairs, pulling me from my thoughts.

“I’m sorry…”

“No need to apologize, I just don’t want you to miss my surprise for you.” Tom opens his bedroom door to reveal fairy lights and soft music. I gasp as I take in the ambience he created. “Do you like it?”

“Tom, it’s wonderful!” He grabs my hand and pulls me into the room. “You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“I just wanted everything to be perfect for tonight.” While I love the sentiment, I can’t help thinking about what JJ told me.

Before I can respond, Tom pulls me in for a kiss. His hands settle on my waist, but his fingers find my bare skin under the hem of my top right away. He deepens the kiss and my head starts spinning. Tom and I have made out before but his kisses are more desperate this time.

We’re interrupted by my phone ringing. I see that it’s JB and silence it. As I put my phone down, I see that I have 2 missed calls from Kie, 3 from Sarah, and 2 from John B. I also have 35 unread text messages.

“Whoa, something is going on.” Before I can check my messages, Tom takes my phone out of my hand and puts it in his back pocket.

“Come on, baby. Just focus on us tonight.” My eyebrows knit in confusion and I study his face. Tom has never taken my phone from me before.

“Tom, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just want you to pay attention to me tonight.”

“I am but there is clearly a problem because all my friends are calling and texting me. Give me my phone, Tom.”

“Give me a kiss.” He pulls me into his chest and crashes his lips to mine.

When I try to push him back, he holds me tighter. I finally have to bite his lip hard to get him to back up.

“Tom, what the hell is going on with you?” Then realization hits me. JJ was right. “Do you think we’re going to have sex tonight?”

“Well, it has been three months.”

“So what? Why are you rushing this?”

“I’m not rushing anything. You’re acting crazy.” He tries to bring me back in for another kiss but I turn my head away from him.

“If we have sex tonight, are you going to split your winnings with me?” I ask to see how he responds.

“What? I… uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.” Way wrong answer.

“Fuck you, Tom. Give me phone so I can leave.”

“No, just hear me out.”

“Give me my damn phone. Now!”

“No! Just fucking listen to me!”

I storm out of his house without my phone, too disgusted and embarrassed to look at him for another minute. It started to rain while we were inside, but I refuse to ask him for a ride home. Instead, I start walking towards the Chateau, too angry and humiliated to care how cold the rain is.

When I arrive at JB’s, I deflate when I see the Twinkie gone. But I figure he’ll be back soon and let myself inside.

“Y/N?” I jump again at his voice.

“Fuck, JJ. You have to stop scaring the shit out of me.”

“What are you doing here? Did you walk?” JJ’s voice is full of concern and he approaches me like a cornered animal.

“Yes. Where is everyone?” I can’t meet his gaze, so I look around the house again, even though I know it’s empty.

“They went looking for you.” He tentatively touches my chin to get me to look at him. “Why didn’t you call for a ride?”

“Tom has my phone.” I can’t handle the emotion in his eyes, so I pull away and start squeezing the rain out of my hair. “Why are they looking for me?”

“After you left, I told them what I told you. Sarah went to confront Rafe and he admitted to the bet. Everyone tried to call you, but you didn’t answer so they went to find you. Kie remembered where you guys were going to dinner, so they were starting there. Why does Tom have your phone?”

“He took it from me when John B called and wouldn’t give it back before I left.”

“Why did you leave?” JJ asks quietly.

“C’mon, JJ, you know why.” I finally meet his eyes and stare at him defiantly. “Go ahead and gloat.”

“No, I mean what happened to make you believe me?”

“He was really… single-minded once we got back to his house.” JJ anxiously looks me over, trying to find any sign of Tom’s aggression. “Then he wouldn’t let me call JB and tried to guilt me into having sex with him.”

“Are you ok?” His voice is unbelievably gentle as he cups my cheeks.

“Not even a little bit. But he didn’t physically hurt me if that’s what you were asking.”

“I’m sorry.” JJ grabs a towel and wraps me up before pulling me in for a hug.

“No, I’m sorry for not believing you.” I allow myself to lean into JJ for support as tears stream down my face. I kept my composure on the way over here, focusing intently on my rage, but his kindness after how horribly I treated him earlier is enough to finally make me break down.

We finally pull apart when JJ’s phone rings. He sees it John B and tells him that I’m there and ok but Tom has my phone. I excuse myself to get cleaned off in the bathroom. After seeing how terrible I look, I decide to take a shower. My pity party is interrupted by a soft knock.

“Y/N, it’s John B. Can I come in?”

“JB, I just need some time. I know you mean well but I just need to be alone for a little bit.”

“Ok, take your time. I’m going to bed, but you can wake me up if you need anything.”

After drying off, I realize I don’t have any clean clothes to put on. I peek my head out and call softly for JJ, hoping he didn’t go to bed when JB did.

“Yea?”

“Can you get me some dry clothes?”

“Sure, give me a minute.”

After he hands me some of his clean clothes, I close the door to get dressed. I thought he went back to what he was doing before I called for him, but I hear him softly call my name from the other side of the door.

“Uh, yea?”

“Umm… you can sleep in my room tonight. I’ll take the couch.” I open the door as he finishes his offer and get the distinct impression that this isn’t what he wanted to tell me.

“Ok… you ok, JJ?”

“Yea… I’m just going to head to bed.” He turns away from me quickly and throws himself down on the couch with his arm over his eyes.

“Ok, night…” As I climb into his bed, his smell overwhelms me, and I’m transported to a night six months ago.

“JJ, I think I’m in love with you.” His mouth stills on my neck and he moves back to look me in the eyes.

We are both a little drunk from the day on the marsh and the party but I can’t deny that I’ve been hoping this would happen for a while.

“Y/N…” JJ’s eyes show how confused he is, so I give him a moment to think. He closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath before moving to my side. “I think we should stop.”

“What? JJ, I don’t want to stop.” I try to kiss him again, but he gets out of bed and starts putting his clothes back on.

“You should go,” he says quietly, refusing to make eye contact with me.

I feel my eyes glazing over with tears as I try to put my clothes back on. JJ leaves me crying in his room. Why couldn’t I just keep my damn mouth shut?

----

“So Y/N, I need to tell you something.” I look over at Kie and frown at the worry in her voice.

“I saw Tom today.” I close my eyes in relief that I wasn’t working the lunch shift. Tom quit after everything happened with us and I haven’t seen him in almost a month. “He asked me to have you call him.”

“Did you tell that asshole that he can suck a dick?” John B yells over the waves.

“No, JB. I told him I would tell her.” Kie looks back at me and shrugs her shoulders. “He looked pretty upset. Maybe he realizes how much he fucked up?”

“So you think she should call him?” JJ asks, anger seething off him.

“No, JJ. I think she should make her own decision. I’m just telling her what he said and how he looked.”

“Kie! Come on! After what he did to her?”

“I still talked to you after what you did to her!” Kie yells.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Pope shouts as he holds out his arms. “Let’s all take a deep breath.”

The rest of the ride to the marsh is silent and tense. JJ moves to the back of the boat and sits with his head in his hands. Once we get to our swimming spot, I let everyone else jump into the water before I go over to talk to him.

“J, you ok?” I nudge his knee with mine to try to get him to look at me.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He finally looks up at me and I see tears streaming down on his face. “Oh, J. Why are you crying?”

“Because Kie’s right. What Tom did was fucked but I’m no better.”

“JJ, she’s not right,” I say with a sigh. “Those are two very different situations. Tom dated me for three months as part of a bet. He tried to get me to have sex with him so he could win money from Rafe fucking Cameron. You… you didn’t do that.”

“No, I just acted like a pussy and shut you out instead of talking to you.”

“What are you talking about?” For the first time, I’m wondering if there is something I didn’t understand about the night JJ and I almost had sex.

“That night, when you said how you felt about me, I didn’t say anything. I just shut down and made you leave.”

“Look, J, I was pissed at you for a long time but then I realized I was just embarrassed and hurt. We were drunk and I jumped about a million steps and told you I love you when we had just kissed for the first time like 20 minutes before that. That would have freaked out anyone. Did you handle it in the best way? No, not even a little bit. But you weren’t fully at fault either.”

“Y/N… I wanted to –” But he’s cut off from explaining further by John B yelling for him.

“JJ, stop being a baby and come swim with us! Kie’s sorry for crossing the line. You’re sorry for being a dick. It’s over.”

“JB, hold on.” I yell back at him, desperate to find out what JJ was about to tell me.

“No, Y/N, JB’s right. Let’s go swim.” He gives me a fake smile and moves to the front of the boat before I can ask him.

What the hell was that?

----

“Dude, let’s go!” I’m tapping my foot while I wait for JJ to finish getting changed.

“Relax!” he yells to me from his room. “Why didn’t you just go to the Boneyard with the others instead of staying here to harass me?”

“You begged me to wait for you, you jackass. Now hurry up!”

“I’m ready, I’m ready…” I grip JJ’s hand and drag him outside. “Why are you in such a hurry? You normally aren’t this jacked for a kegger.”

“I’m just ready to shake off the residual Tom energy.”

“I thought you were doing better…”

“I am and now I want to celebrate. Just want to get back out there, you know?”

I look back when JJ doesn’t respond to me and notice him looking at his feet. His body language is reminding me of how he was on the boat a couple days ago but I can’t really figure out why.

“J, you good?” I ask tentatively.

“What?” His head pops up as if just realizing I’m still there. “Oh yea, I’m totally good.”

“You are so full of shit.” I say with a nervous laugh.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know… you look… sad?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go get you back out there.” JJ throws his arm over my shoulder and leads me the rest of the way to the Boneyard with both of us lost in our heads.

When we get to party, we go straight over to our friends by the keg. Before I can finish saying hello to them, Kie hands me a cup and pulls me out to the dance area. She holds on to my free hand and spins me around to the music. Within minutes, we’re laughing non-stop and dancing like idiots.

After a couple of songs, I feel a warm set of hands settle on my waist. I spin around, thinking one of the guys has joined us, only to find Tom’s smug face.

“Get your hands off of me!” I shout as I pull out of his reach. He quickly follows me and grasps my shoulders harshly.

“Y/N, I just want to talk. Please.”

“Well, I don’t give a shit about whatever you have to say. Leave me alone.” I turn my head to look for Kie and see that she’s already run over towards the guys. “Look, Kie went to get JB and JJ. You should go before they get over here.”

“Fuck them. You’re the person I came to talk to. Just hear me out.”

“There is nothing you can say that will make what you did ok. Go away!”

As the last word is coming out of my mouth, I feel a strong set of arms wrap around me from behind and pull me away. Then a tall blur comes from the left and punches Tom in the face.

“Shh, it’s ok…” I freeze for a moment as I realize that JJ is the person holding me instead of the one throwing the punches. “John B has got this, let’s get you out of here.”

“JJ?” I search his face while he looks at me tenderly. “I thought you’d be the one throwing punches.”

“No, Y/N. You’re more important. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I’m stunned into compliance and walk with him to the edge of the party. I spare a glance back at the fight between JB and Pope and Tom and Rafe and stop moving. When JJ realizes I’ve stopped, he follows my line of sight back and again tries to move me away.

“JJ, what the hell! Why aren’t you helping them?! You know that Rafe probably has Topper and Kelce nearby!”

“Listen to me.” He places both hands gently on my cheeks, demanding my full attention. “JB and I made a deal this afternoon in case this happened. It’s my job to get you back to the Chateau, JB will take care of the rest.”

“How did John B talk you into that?” I ask as his hands drop.

“What do you mean?”

“How did he convince you to be on babysitting duty?”

“He didn’t. I volunteered.” JJ mumbles the last part as he stares at his feet and rubs the back of his neck.

“Why?” I lift JJ’s face with a gentle finger under his chin.

“I told you, you’re more important.”

“I don’t understand…” I search his face for answers but can only find confliction in his eyes. JJ never turns down a chance to fight Kooks, especially one that has treated one of his friends like shit.

“I’ll try to explain better when we get back to the Chateau.” He puts a reassuring hand on the small of my back and guides me away from the party.

Throughout the walk back to the Chateau, I am lost in my own head. Why would JJ babysit me instead of punching out Tom? Why would he leave John B and Pope when he knew they were about to be outnumbered? What emotion did I see flit over his eyes when he told me I’m more important?

“Whoa, watch your step,” JJ warns as I almost trip up the porch stairs. I didn’t even realize we were already back at John B’s.

Once we get inside, JJ immediately gets a couple of beers from the fridge. He taps my hand with mine since I’m still not paying attention.

“Are you ok?” he asks me cautiously.

“Uh… yea. I’m just really confused.”

“Why? What did he say to you?” JJ’s voice full of concern again.

“Not about Tom. I don’t give a shit what he says. I’m confused by you.”

“Why?” JJ looks at me with genuine curiosity.

“Well, I’m trying to put the jigjaw pieces together but I think I’m missing some.”

“Huh?”

“I’m missing information.” When he still looks confused, I roll my eyes and be as direct as possible. “You haven’t been open with me.”

“I’m an open book, Y/N. Ask whatever you want. But… make sure you want to know the answer.”

“Ok, that’s not cryptic at all,” I say sarcastically. “I guess let’s go back to the other day on the marsh. It seemed like you were trying to tell me something about the night we almost had sex.”

“Oh, we’re just jumping right into, huh?” I can’t help but smile at his obvious nervousness.

“You told me I could ask whatever I wanted.”

“I know… let me figure out the best way to explain it…”

“JJ, just be honest. Don’t worry about saying it right.”

“That night, do you remember what led us back to my room?”

“Uh, yea… we were dancing and a slow song came on.” I pause for a second and then add. “I told you that it reminded me of you and then you kissed me.”

“Do you remember the song?”

“It was an old one by Brandi Carlisle. Uh, The Story?”

“Yea... do you remember what you said when I asked why?” I can’t help but feel like a participant on a quiz show with all of his questions.

“Because your mom used to sing it to you.” I look at my hands, knowing his mom is a difficult topic for him.

“You’re the only person who knows that about me.”

“Really?”

“Yea, my dad doesn’t even know that. She would only sing it when he wasn’t around.” That makes sense with everything I know about their marriage, but I’m really confused about what this has to do with anything.

“Well, I’m honored that you told me, J. But I don’t understand how that gets us here…”

“In that moment, I realized that you know me better than anyone else in the world and… and you still stick around. My mom used to tell me that the point of the song was finding someone who knows all of you, the good and the bad, and wanting to share every part of your life with that person because they give it meaning. You give my life meaning.”

“JJ…” I’m overwhelmed by his openness. I never would have anticipated him being so honest about something so personal.

“No, let me finish.” I nod at him but take his hand in mine. “Kissing you was something I wanted to do since 5th grade. So, I leaned in and kissed you without thinking about what I was risking. Then things escalated and we ended up back here. It was like my dreams were coming true. When you told me you loved me, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. I didn’t think it was possible that you would ever feel that way about me. Maybe you were too drunk or confused, I wasn’t sure. But I couldn’t risk you telling me later that you didn’t mean it. So… I did what I do best and shut down.”

“JJ, I meant it.”

“I realized that a couple days later when you wouldn’t come over.” His sadness is written across his face as he explains further. “At first I thought you were just embarrassed but then JB punched me in the face and yelled at me about breaking your heart.”

“He did what?!” When John B convinced me to tell him what happened, I specifically made him promise not to address it with JJ.

“It’s ok, I deserved it. Normally when I self-destruct, I’m the only one who gets hurt. But this time, I hurt the person I love too.”

“The person you what?” I shake my head a little in disbelief.

“The person I love. I didn’t just want to kiss you because you’re smoking hot, even though you are. But because I’m in love with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out I was heartbroken?”

“Well I already hurt you, I didn’t think you’d still feel that way anymore.”

“So all this time, you’ve been in love with me?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice, causing him to look at me apologetically.

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Since John B’s 12th birthday party. Don’t laugh!” The giggle slips out on it’s own and I quickly cover my mouth.

“I’m sorry, J. But why that specific day?”

“That was the year when we all got into a huge cake fight, remember?” I nod and he offers me a shy smile. “Well, you snuck up behind me, jumped on my back, and smashed a handful of cake in my face. I grabbed your arms and pulled you off me and had to hold you up because you were laughing so hard. You got the hiccups and tears were running down your face and I remember thinking that I want to make you laugh like that forever.”

“You’re such a softie…” I whisper as I poke his side.

“Shut up…”

“No, it’s true. You’re a big softie. Why are you finally telling me now?”

“I guess I feel like I can now that you don’t love me anymore. I don’t need to worry about breaking your heart again.”

“Wha –” I’m cut off by a crash out on the porch, causing both of us to jump up.

“Hey, can one of you guys get the door for us?” Kie screams through the window.

JJ rushes to help Kie and I gasp when I see John B’s bloodied face. Pope has a swollen eye and a nose bleed but otherwise looks ok.

“JB! Oh my God, are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Y/N. Just a few cuts from Rafe’s stupid rings. Kie, you don’t need to hold me up, I can walk.” Kie ignores John B and guides him over to the couch while I run into the kitchen for some ice and paper towels.

Over the next hour, we clean up Pope and John B while they tell us about how Tom and Rafe called over Topper and Kelce (like I predicted). A few other pogues jumped in to help when they noticed JJ wasn’t there. The whole fight only lasted a couple minutes but it ended the party so they had to clean up before they came back to the house. Soon, Kie offers to drive Pope home and JB decides to head to bed, leaving me and JJ alone again.

“Are you staying here tonight or do you want me to drive you home?” JJ asks softly.

“Uh, I’ll stay here.” I hate the awkwardness between us right now.

“Ok, night.” He turns around quickly and goes into his room before I can say anything else.

After tossing and turning on the couch for a couple hours, I decide that I’m not going to be able to sleep until I talk to JJ. I jump up and tiptoe quietly into his room. Instead of knocking, I just let myself in and am surprised when I find him looking back at me.

“Y/N? What are you doing in here?”

“I couldn’t sleep…”

“Is everything ok?”

“No.”

“Oh… do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes… JJ, I need you to know someth –” Before I can finish my thought, JJ cuts me off.

“No, Y/N, listen. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I hope you know that I don’t expect –”

“Shut up, JJ.” I cover his mouth with my hand to get him to stop talking. “I need you to know that I’m still in love with you… I never stopped loving you.”

I slowly remove my hand from his mouth and study his face. At first, I’m not sure that he believes me but then he breaks into a brilliant smile. He pulls me close and kisses me fiercely. He puts every ounce of emotion into the kiss and I need to pull back sooner than I’d like to take a breath.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Well, you didn’t respond that great the first time.”

“But you were with Tom…”

“Yea, I thought dating someone else would help me get over you.” I tell him with a shrug.

“We’re both idiots,” he says as he pulls me in for another kiss. “But, God, I love you.”

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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afterdeath | lucas

title: afterdeath pairing: vampire!lucas x fairy!reader genre: angst, forbidden romance, fantasy, vampire!au request: May I request a Vampire!Lucas with a fairy!s/o (Forbidden romance perhaps?) word count: 8.6k warnings: descriptions of death and sickness, mentions of a funeral, viewing, and funerary preparations, major character death (but...with a slight twist), mentions of blood and drinking blood, smoking cigarettes, arguments/conflict, mentions of physical violence, some romeo and juliet elements? a/n: hmm this fic probably could’ve been more detailed but i was trying to avoid triggering my own damn self with so much talk of death...ha...not sure why i went this route but i wanted a forbidden romance with an actual decent ending for both characters and this was the first idea i had recommended songs: OLLA - jhené aiko

Year 1508

“We’ve felled the demon!”

“Indeed, we have!”

Cheers ring through the dawn as a large group of fairies dance around an immense bonfire, raising their shouts of celebration to the sky. Within the fire burns the body of the Primitiva Vampire, the One and Only Pureblood, haphazardly thrown over the wood pile and relieved of her head—which sits near the bottom of the burning mass of wood, her face still twisted in a mien of anger.

As the sky begins turning lighter with the onset of sunrise, the fairies continue their celebration, staying close to the fire all the while. They carry large flaming torches to guard against any of the Primitiva Vampire’s followers who might try to sneak upon them and strike in that sliver of space where the sun has yet to rise.

The Primitiva Vampire had a long reign of terrorizing fairies and turning humans and other supernatural creatures into vampires. Each transformed being became a terrible revenant, one which viciously hunted villages and stole into people’s homes for more blood, more death, and more unwilling adherents to the vampiric cult.

Mass numbers of fairies had been decimated once the vampires first tasted their blood and took a unique liking to it. For over 200 years, the carnage continued on at the hand of the Primitiva Vampire, who had one day blinked into existence in a way that could never really be explained by any conceivable means, either human or magic. And without ever giving a hint to her strange conception, she tore across cities and towns, converting others into night creatures like herself and building a loyal following of half-bedeviled beings.

When fairy populations had dwindled to nearly extinction-level quantities, they were left no other choice—fight back or be wiped completely from the universe’s ledger. So they took up arms, honed their magic skills, and did just that.

And now, all their efforts culminate in this blood-stained morning. It marks a much-anticipated moment of revelry before they have to return to their posts to watch for the night creatures inevitably waiting on the other side of the sunset, ready to avenge their slain Goddess.

Present Day

“You probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to come,” Lucas replies, taking your hand is his large one. “I wanted to see you.”

“I can figure that.” You laugh quietly, a little afraid to let your voice rise higher in case it carries too far. “But that doesn’t mean you should’ve come.”

Lucas holds your hand tightly. His skin is cold against yours due to his slow blood, and colder still from the chill permeating the air. It’s only one of many vampiric traits that the other fairies would think of as strange or barbaric, but you don’t see it that way. The chilliness just reminds you solely of him.

“Well, I missed you. And I’m here now, so you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The building you’re standing behind is damp, old, and dilapidated, and it’s not even one of your pre-designated meeting places. In front of you is a rusted chain link fence, which barricades a field of tall and unkempt grass. More aged and crumbling buildings scatter themselves across the distance, taken over by grass and climbing vines.

You don’t know what’s out here. This is one place within your district you haven’t been to before. It was Lucas’s idea to come here, after your last meeting place had nearly been discovered and he found it too risky to keep going there.

The entire city of Beijing is split up into different districts, each belonging to a different faction of supernatural beings. Some nonhuman races have close ties with each other and allow frequent cross-district mingling; others are sworn enemies, forbidden to fraternize with each other under pain of death. In these latter cases, crossing into another’s territory without express permission—or in rare situations, ties to a powerful ally (or allies) on the other side—is asking to get arrested, injured, or worse.

Lucas would be your tie to the vampire side and you his tie to the fairy side if your species weren’t centuries-long enemies. Instead, you’re relegated to having him sneak in and out of your district and hide what he is with blood-scent blockers and eye contacts to make the trickery easier to get away with. There’s only so much you can do to disguise your fae nature; stepping into vampire territory would turn you into a shining beacon.

“Hmm…” you sigh, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. You grasp Lucas’s hand so you’re now holding it with both of yours. “How long do you think we can keep this up? Going from place to place like this. Hiding like criminals.”

Lucas gives a lopsided grin—one that cannot morph into a full smile because of the sadness coloring it. “I don’t know. Forever, if we’re lucky.” He chuckles.

You stare at your intertwined hands, unaware of the sheer intensity of the longing expression on your face, though Lucas sees it clearly. It threatens to burn his heart to ash. “Unfortunately, fae don’t live forever like you do, so maybe not. Besides, your people would probably find out and come after me before we could even settle into a ‘forever.’”

He shakes his head fretfully at your words, squeezing your hand. “Do we have to talk about all that now? You know we don’t have much time together. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.” Lucas pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“That’s fine by me,” you say, and resist the urge to make some dark joke about how scandalous it is for a fairy to have their neck so close to a vampire’s mouth—or a vampire’s anything.

You both stay together in that dingy and old spot for a while, talking in the dark until he tells you he has to go. He follows you the whole way back home to ensure you’re safe, keeping to the shadows until he sees you disappear past your front door. Then, he slips away again to head back to the familiar manor in his own district.

It’s nearly morning when Lucas gets back to the large house he shares with the other six men. By this time of day, he knows they will either be in bed or getting ready to turn in.

“Still visiting that fairy, I see.”

The unexpected voice doesn’t scare Lucas, but it does make his body tense up a bit in irritation and a slight sense of anticipation. He sighs and stops in his tracks on the way to his room, though he doesn’t face the clan leader just yet.

“Is that a problem? Because you know I’m not going to stop.”

Kun makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course it is. You know what the consequences are if anyone outside of us finds out.” Lucas turns to him slightly, and the look on Kun’s face is more disappointment—maybe even slight fear?—than anger. “I clearly can’t stop you from doing what you want to, but I can’t help you if the Association gets involved.”

Lucas rocks back on his heels and sighs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the vampire organization. “Fuck the Association. They’re nothing but a bunch of old ass hags who have no purpose in their lives other than ruling over every other vampire in the world.”

Kun looks weary at his words. “You really don’t care, do you, Xuxi. They’d have your heart on a stake if they ever heard that.” He pauses and rolls his eyes. “They’re also not that much older than me, so I wonder who you’re calling an ‘old ass hag’...”

“Isn’t it a good thing that they won’t hear it, then?” Lucas laughs, but it’s not an entirely humorous sound, and he gives Kun a searching look as his chuckles die off.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no interest in telling them anything, mostly because I also have no interest in our whole clan being wiped out.”

Lucas nods, reaffirming his somewhat shaky but still present trust in Kun, needing the regular reassurances for his own calm. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a few steps like he’ll go to his room, though he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “Just don’t see what the big deal about all this is. All this over some ancient bloodsucker who died like 500 years ago...who cares.”

Kun winces again, though he doesn’t bother with reprimanding Lucas this time; he only shakes his head and sighs heavily like it’s already a lost cause. “A vampire and a fairy together is more than blasphemy—it’s ridiculous. It’s illogical. They all think we’re bloodsucking demons hellbent on killing them.”

“To be fair, there’s definitely a sect of vampire zealots or two who are trying to do exactly that despite the laws.”

Kun sighs. Lucas is right; what can he say to argue that? “Xuxi…”

“I’m telling you I’ll be fine, Kun-ge. You don’t need to worry about me and Y/N. Things have been going fine for this long.” Lucas nods, then heads off to his room for real this time. Kun watches him leave, feeling a lot less reassured than the younger man.

Ten takes Xiaojun and Lucas on one of their weekly outings to a blood lounge. Blood lounges are an easy and accessible way for vampires to get blood, though the legalities of this practice are a little muddy. Before getting with you, Lucas didn’t mind drinking straight from the source—going to one of the back rooms and sucking some willing, vulnerable being just to the point of death—but now, it feels like a type of transgression. Drinking someone else’s blood can be an intensely intimate act, on the same level as sex depending on the context, and he doesn’t want to do anything to make you think he’d be unfaithful.

To his fortune, there is no club rule about having to feed off other beings; many vampires take their blood in fancy champagne glasses, just like drinks in a human club. He does that now as the three men sit in a darkly lit booth.

Their conversation is unexciting for a while, with Lucas keeping careful not to mention you or any of his recent visits to your district to avoid any prying ears in the lounge. However, things soon get interesting. “We all know how Renjun got taken off the Association’s Registry a year ago, right?” Ten asks suddenly.

“Yes, of course.” Xiaojun answers like he’s already bored of this turn in the conversation. “That’s what happens whenever a vampire dies.”

Ten nods, but his eyes are wide like he has a secret he’s itching to tell. “But I don’t think he actually died.”

Lucas’s ears perk up at that.

“Why?” Xiaojun asks.

“He was seeing that human before he supposedly died, you know—”

“The one who lost it and drove the stake in his heart? We all know how it happened—”

“Can you let me finish? Anyway, I’ve heard some...suggestions that he faked his death—that maybe he got a magic user to set the whole crime scene up and make it look like it was real. Illusory magic, or something like that.”

Xiaojun sits forward. “A magic user. As in a fairy? Or a witch? Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone who uses magic. People are starting to think he and the human faked it all and ran away to Tianjin. I heard someone even claimed they saw somebody who resembled him when they went to Tianjin recently, though I don’t know how true that is…”

Xiaojun’s interest is thoroughly engaged now. “Think the Association will go looking for him, if it's true?”

“I don’t know if they’d care enough to hunt down an unregistered vampire who’s laying low and not creating chaos with other citizens. We all know Tianjin is way more relaxed about inter-species relationships, too. But the Association doesn’t like looking stupid. And that kind of trick definitely makes them look stupid.”

Lucas sits back, taking all of this information in. He is uncharacteristically quiet, but he doesn’t know what to make of that situation or why Ten is telling them about it. He thinks he can guess why, though, by the way Ten’s gaze lingers on him, and that scares him a little. The way this rumor piques a forbidden interest in him scares him. Lucas lifts the glass of blood to his lips and drinks from it, trying to distract himself from the current conversation.

“All this for a damn human. Only an idiot would try something like that,” Xiaojun says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a smart one. It did get him off the Registry.”

“How can you be a smart idiot?!” Ten and Xiaojun start arguing over the semantics of the term, and Lucas watches them in amusement, though his mind remains in two different places for the rest of their time in the blood lounge.

—

Later that night when they are back at the manor, Lucas pulls Ten aside, just like the older man expected him to.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asks, though his expression shows he already knows exactly what’s the matter.

“You...the stuff you said about Renjun earlier. I…” Lucas doesn’t know how to start or break his idea to him softly, so he decides to just say it. “Is it really possible?”

“I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get off the Registry…though many other attempts were way less successful.” Then Ten hesitates before saying, “You could try it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” Ten’s expression softens a little. “I know you and Y/N love each other a lot, but there’s no way the Association will ever let you stay together if they find out. Y/N’s life could actually be in danger. Both of you are, every moment you spend together while living in these districts. If you really want to stay with Y/N, then…”

“...But I wouldn’t be able to see any of you again.” You and Lucas have become so entwined with one another that he can hardly imagine a life without you, but he also finds it difficult to picture his existence without his brothers. They’ve become like blood family to him over the last couple centuries.

“Yeah.” Ten sighs deeply, and although his reply is short, Lucas knows that one word is carrying the weight of all of his stress and sorrow about the idea. “Maybe we could find a way to visit you sometimes. Get the fairies or witches to do some of their magicky shit.” Ten laughs quietly. “But...it’s still just an idea. You don’t have to do it.”

Lucas shakes his head slowly. He wants to put the idea to bed and try to continue on with his life, managing his clandestine visits to your district when he can. But now that he knows of an alternative way, no matter how unreasonable or unbelievable it is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget about it. “Kun-ge is going to kill you once he finds out this was your suggestion. You know that, right?”

Ten shrugs, and the sadness lifts momentarily in the curve of his lips. “He can try.”

The next time you and Lucas meet up, it’s in yet another different place under an ancient and mostly abandoned bridge. As a precaution, you stand together underneath the darkness of the bridge and stay out of sight, though there are few chances of anyone being around to see you in the first place.

He has to muster up the courage to tell you of his idea, unsure of how you’ll react or what you’ll think of it. It’s a lot to ask of you. Your kinships and friendships are not as extensive as his, only having a brother and two cousins left in the world, but he doesn’t know if he could ever ask you to leave them behind like this. Or if he could shake off the guilt that would remain from it.

“There might be a way for us to change things…” Lucas starts, skipping the build-up because he knows it would take him forever to think of something appropriate to say. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Change things?” You glance at him curiously. You wish you could see the deep red of his irises, but they are hidden behind his brown contacts. “As in, with us?”

“Yes. So that maybe we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. Or at least...not sneak around as much as we do now.”

“What is it?” you ask. Despite yourself, your wings flutter against your back as wonder and excitement rise in your chest. You and Lucas have waxed poetic many times before about how you wish things could be different; and neither of you have ever been able to come up with a workable plan. But now, his claim that maybe something is possible has you dangerously curious.

“Taking myself off the Registry. I could basically just...disappear. The Association can’t harm what technically no longer exists.”

You stare at him in confusion. “But you can’t do that, right? Only under special circumstances…”

Lucas sees the question in your eyes and nods. “Right. Like if I die…” You flinch, shaking your head immediately. “...or pretend I’ve died.” This makes you pause, not expecting to hear something like that come from him.

“Pretend...you’ve died. Faking your own death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but...there’s another vampire who we think has done it before. And...it worked. Supposedly.”

You shake your head again, but you turn the idea over in your mind. “How would you even do that? Someone would have to know you’re not really dead. That can’t be as easy as it sounds...”

Lucas swallows hard. “I know, it doesn’t, but maybe if we plan it right...I think we could pull this off. Some of the others...already know about it.” Only Ten, really, but that’ll inevitably change soon.

Your heart is hammering in your chest just thinking about this plan—the small, undefined plan that it is—and you’re unsure how to approach it. “If we leave under those circumstances, we can’t come back here to Beijing. Which means we won’t see anyone else again, our families and friends...”

“You understand that.” Lucas’s voice comes out strained.

You sigh, wringing your hands. “I do.”

Lucas hangs his head, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s too much to ask of you. We can just forget about this, really. I know sneaking around has been difficult, and I just—”

“I never said I wouldn’t agree to it,” you say softly, interrupting him before he can begin deriding himself about the idea.

Lucas’s head perks up again, and you both look at each other for a long moment. A cold night breeze flows through your clothes and rustles your wings, which remain tucked close against your back.

“Just think of it as leaving the nest, I guess,” you say, though there are tears welling in your eyes. “Growing up and making a life for ourselves. We can do that...right?”

Lucas bites his lip and closes his eyelids to stave off the tears trying to form in his own eyes. “Yeah. We can do that. Even if it’s a bit...unconventional.”

You nod hurriedly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands before any more tears can make their way out. “If you really want to do this, then we need to visit my brother.”

—

Your brother is predictably not thrilled about the idea. He likes Lucas well enough, but he’s never been very good at hiding his skepticism about your relationship. Though he would never say this to you directly, he never expected your relationship to make it past a few months; and yet it’s been a year and a half since you and Lucas started seeing each other. Maybe he’d be glad about your relationship’s stability if your partner was anyone other than a vampire. Alas, he instead spends all his time stressing over whether either of you will be found out at any moment’s notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” your brother says as he sits down at his desk within his apothecary office. He shakes his head the entire time, but he rifles through his collection of books on magic anyway. If there is anyone who knows a potion or spell that could work for this scheme and would actually be willing to keep it all secret, it’s your brother.

“I know that, Aldriel.” You cross your arms, sighing impatiently at your brother’s continuous reprimands since you’ve stepped through his door. “That’s why we came to you. You’re one of the best magic wielders and potionists around.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. No need to blow smoke up my ass,” Aldriel replies, never one to let a moment to brag slip away. He continues flipping through his book fast enough to make the words on the pages blur, his brow creased with focus. He is paying attention to the words and pictures on the pages, though you also know him well enough to realize this is him trying to distract himself from the many thoughts that must be crowding his brain.

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say, trying to speak against the lump that’s suddenly forming in your throat. “You’ve always complained about wanting me out of your hair, anyway.”

Aldriel pauses in flipping through his spell book to look directly at you now, his brows creased even further and his face creating a visage of bitter desperation. “Not like this.”

Sighing, you turn away from him and let him go back to his textbook, knowing you’d probably start to cry if you look at him any longer. And who knows what will happen once that begins.

You go back to Lucas, who is sitting in the other room with his face turned to the window. It is nighttime and the blinds are closed, so you know he’s not looking at anything in particular. His mind must be similarly preoccupied.

“You okay?” you ask, touching his arm.

“Fine,” he answers, though he doesn’t turn to you. He just grasps your hand where it slides down to his own, gripping your fingers tightly. “As fine as I can be in this situation, I guess.”

You sit down in front of Lucas on the floor’s intricately decorated rug, resting your head against his knee. “It’ll be okay.” You aren’t sure of the words when they leave your lips, but you have to believe in them or else all will be lost.

—

You both spend a few hours at Aldriel’s place. At one point, you try to prod Lucas into going back to his clan to avoid raising suspicions for being gone too long—you can just get the potion to him some other day—but he insists it’ll be easier for him to stay and receive the potion now.

Finally, in the hour before dawn, your brother’s door opens and he steps through. “It’s ready.”

Both you and Lucas come alert at that, and you step back into Aldriel’s apothecary to see what he’s developed.

“This is an advanced death glamor potion,” your brother says, holding up a small glass bottle. “It contains a magic incantation that will leave you dead for a week and only a week. Seven days. Your body will remain in perfect stasis, so there’s no risk of the regular side effects that come with death.”

“A week?” you repeat, nervousness coursing through your body. Lucas looks equally apprehensive, and he squeezes your hand tighter.

Aldriel nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “That should be enough time to take care of the funeral arrangements and make everyone else think you’ve passed.” He says the last bit while gesturing to Lucas. “I’m not super clear on how vampire funerary customs work, though, so—”

Lucas nods. “No, it’ll work. That’s enough time.”

Your brother’s mouth creases into a thin line. “Good.” He passes the vial to Lucas, makes an expression like he might say something else, and then shakes his head, glancing to you instead. “You plan to go to Tianjin, right?”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“You’ll need to find a place to stay, then, until you can get one of your own. And I think we both know exactly where that will be.”

The potion works just as Aldriel said it would. It’s hard to know whether to be dismayed or relieved about this, though the former emotion quickly wins out with everyone.

Lucas takes it a week after meeting with your brother and procuring all the necessary fake documents, claiming it’s best not to wait any longer for it. You feel apprehensive about doing it so soon; or maybe you just want to stall for a little while longer. By now the other five men in his clan all know, each with varying reactions to it but ultimately unable to do anything to change his mind—not even Kun.

On the night Lucas uses the potion, Kun makes one last ditch attempt at reasoning.

“You don’t need to go to this extreme,” the older man insists. Though his voice is cold and sharp and deceptively calm, his entire face is a picture of perfect anger. Everyone had already had their turns talking to Lucas alone and telling him what they needed him to hear—and now it’s just Kun left.

“It’s my decision,” Lucas says, keeping his voice steadier than he feels. “I want to be with Y/N. There is no other way.”

“You’re endangering the entire clan with this. You’d throw us all away for one person?” Kun’s eyes are red-rimmed, but not just from the rage; Lucas knows he’s been crying. Lucas shuts his own eyes, his forehead creasing as he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lucas shakes his head, knowing he is treading on very dangerous waters with what he’s about to say. As if the situation weren’t already contentious enough. “You closed yourself off to love a long time ago. After Jingyi died. You just wouldn’t know.”

The vivid red hue of anger bleeds into Kun’s irises at the mention of his late human lover, and he has to make a very concentrated effort not to reach for the younger’s neck. “How dare you speak of her.”

Lucas opens his eyes again and looks directly at his elder now. “You’ve let the Association run your life too much,” he says, though the words come out sounding a bit defeated. He’s not even sure why he invokes Kun’s lover now; maybe he is trying to make the split easier by provoking the other man into hating him. “You’ve let them beat it into you that love is not worth trying for. What did you gain from that, in the end? But more loneliness.”

Lucas gets the breath knocked from him when Kun slams him up against the wall, and the unpleasant sound of wood splintering strikes against his eardrums. A long vertical crack forms in the wood behind Lucas, but not wide enough to make the wall separate completely. Not using his full strength, then, Lucas thinks to himself.

Kun looks for all the world like he might kill Lucas then and there without the younger man ever needing to take a potion—just bite his heart right out. He crumples Lucas’s shirt in his hands, fisting the fabric tightly enough to create small rips in it. His irises are the color of newly spilled arterial blood, and alongside the red rimming of his eyes from his earlier crying, it makes for an agonizing sight—one that sears itself into the back of Lucas’s mind. It’s made even worse by the new tears spilling down the older man’s face.

He chokes out through the tears, “You cannot do this. I raised you. You would have me destroyed twice?”

Lucas wishes he could shut every one of his senses off right now, but he can only manage to shut his eyes, once again, against the pain in the other man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Kun-ge.”

—

After that, Lucas goes back to his own room and sits on the bed for a long time, replaying the events in his head and growing colder with the realization of what he’s about to do. He stares at the small vial on his dresser until he can’t stare at it anymore, and then he downs it all at once. He looks at the vial with renewed interest as it actually disappears once the fluid is gone, the glass evaporating away in the palm of his hand like water droplets under the sun. No evidence.

Lying on his side, he stares at the wall across from his bed and waits for the spell to begin working. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his vision begins to blur, almost so imperceptibly that it’s difficult to realize until he notices everything in his field of view is doubled, objects bleeding out of their lines like pictures drawn by a drunken artist—there’s a strange ringing in his ears too, a sound on the edge of his hearing but still present, and he doesn’t know what any of it means, or if this is how other beings feel when they are on the brink of death—it’s frightening, and he feels a momentary pang of sympathy for other nonhumans and humans alike who have no choice but to experience this terrible ordeal at the closing of their lives—

It’s harder to keep his eyes open now, so he closes them and lets all sounds and sensations fade out of his hearing—he only holds one last memory of you in his mind, of the soft and filmy texture of your wings underneath his fingertips, of you laughing whole-heartedly at something silly he’d said, and he joins his hands together in the universal symbol of prayer even as they grow weaker, hoping and praying even to his cursed vampire ancestor that this won’t be the very last memory of you—

—

“Yes, he has...most certainly departed from this world.”

An Association council member known as Belial announces this to the room of men after doing a thorough check of Lucas’s body. His voice is distant and saddened. The texture of it is almost tangible, dragging everyone down with it like a physical thing—akin to a rock being dropped into a thin sheet. “Such a fledgling, too. Truly tragic and strange circumstances.” Belial stands beside the bed, shaking his head and looking down at the still form of the younger man as if he might discover an answer if he stares for long enough. “Was there no indication…?”

“He was probably exposed to bad blood,” Ten replies, his voice tense and quiet. Though Kun is clan leader, he doesn’t say anything at all, leaving all the dirty work of explaining the lie to Ten.

Belial’s gaze turns to Ten. He shifts his head slightly to turn his ear towards him, as if he didn’t understand what the other man said. “Bad...blood? As in death by blood weakness?”

The room feels like it’s been sucked of air once these words are spoken, and the younger men shift uncomfortably. Sicheng never lifts his gaze to look at Belial, though Yangyang’s eyes keep darting between Belial and Lucas on the bed like he’s waiting for something to happen. Hendery is just as anxious beside Yangyang, both of them passing uneasy energy between each other. Xiaojun’s face is still fixed into the same permanent frown it had been in since Lucas first told them of the plan. His eyes remain downcast and fixed on Lucas, silently asking Why did you have to be the idiot this time?

“Yes, blood weakness. He hadn’t drank as much blood as usual in the last few days...maybe he seemed a little restless...but we didn’t think it was unusual. He...didn’t seem sick.”

“Where would he have gotten bad blood from? We vampires always take such care…” Belial’s tone turns condescending, as if he could expect no better from a young vampire—someone not even wise enough to tell bad blood from uninfected blood. How could one let themselves be taken out of this world by such a fundamental, basic mistake? Kun curls his fingers into a fist at his side, though he quickly remembers himself and tries to let them relax.

“The blood lounge,” Hendery blurts out. Every eye turns to him now, and Ten’s mouth thins into an agitated line. This isn’t what they agreed on. “M-maybe it was spoiled blood from the blood lounge. It had to be. He’s more careful than that…”

Belial’s eyes are whirling with so many emotions that it’s hard to pin any singular one down. “Serving bad blood, with or without knowledge of it, is an incredible offense within any vampire district. In that case, the establishment must be shut down—after an exhaustive investigation, of course.” This statement causes more discomfort among the gathered men, almost too much of it to be properly concealed.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Kun interjects quietly. Belial looks at him with an expression that reeks of offense, and Kun returns the stare, glaring straight into the elder vampire’s eyes. “He died of blood weakness, most likely from drinking from some disease-ridden human. Even though he used the blood lounge and blood bags, he was in the habit of getting outside blood on occasion. It was a moment of poor judgment that cost him his life...and nothing more than that.”

A tense silence stretches over the room, and Belial’s eyes still don’t leave Kun’s. The other men remain statue-still, waiting to see what will happen—if it will work—until Belial says, “Yes. Of course. I’ll file his passing with the Keepers of the Registry, as protocol states.”

The other men stay quiet and motionless until Belial departs from their house.

“You used your compulsion on a council member,” says Yangyang, and even his voice is trembling when he speaks.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Xiaojun notes, though his tone is more irritated than awed. “They’re all so much more advanced.”

That action obviously didn’t come for free, though, because Kun is holding his head like it hurts, turning away from the rest of them. “Such recklessness is not my style. Primitiva help us all. We’re all dead if we’re found out.”

“Why did you say that,” Sicheng deadpans, his words directed to Hendery. Even though Sicheng hasn’t said or done anything since stepping into the room, he looks thoroughly exhausted. “You almost gave us away.”

Hendery holds himself up on the bed as if he’ll collapse, his body bent with all the weight of their lies. He makes a motion like he might sit on the bed before remembering it’s where Lucas’s body is resting, and he straightens himself with some effort. “I...but he was thinking badly of Lucas. Like it was his fault.”

“It was,” Kun says faintly.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you right now. Just let me handle the talking.” Ten’s expression is stressed, and for a moment he starts to wonder if he should’ve ever said anything to Lucas at all.

Xiaojun shakes his head. “For now, there is a lot more we need to do than just talking.”

Vampire funerary procedures are much different from what many other supernatural races are used to—even blasphemous to some. Everything is handled at the home of the deceased instead of a funeral home or mortuary, in keeping with the tradition of honoring one’s vampire ancestors—and ultimately, the Primitiva Vampire. After the Primitiva’s gruesome death hundreds of years ago, all that had been left was her ashes once the fire burned out, but her followers still gave the remains a proper processing and burial.

The men dress Lucas in one of his nicest suits and perform all the necessary actions that would be involved at a funerary home, including preparing the casket. All of them help throughout this process as tradition dictates, though it is more difficult than any of them expected it to be. (No one even makes a dark joke about you’ll have to do this for me when I’m gone, which speaks to their inner turmoil.)

The viewing is equally challenging to get through, if not more.

Many of their vampire friends and acquaintances attend, including various members of the Association. Everyone seems to buy the blood weakness lie perfectly, which means Kun’s compulsion worked as it should have. That knowledge does very little to relax any of them in the grand scheme of things, though.

Though they know Lucas is not really gone, the sight of him lying there in that dark coffin with other vampires looking sadly down at his still face and dabbing their tears away is deeply frightening.

The night of the viewing goes by at a glacial pace, and every other night after that up until the funeral passes even more slowly, like time itself has dropped its speed to prolong the torment.

When the last few straggling visitors for the viewing are gone, the men go their separate ways to try to deal with the not-so-small trauma of the day’s events. Kun goes up to one of the manor’s several wide balconies, one that they’ve all used as a familiar hangout spot or simply a place to unwind over the years. The sun will not rise for another forty-five minutes or so, giving him enough time to sit and think before it becomes unsafe. He is not very surprised when he finds Ten already there, though he decides not to leave.

“You stopped smoking three decades ago,” Kun comments, waving his hand in a pitiful attempt to clear out the smell of smoke filling the air. There’s no hint of teasing or personality in his voice, only hollowness and exhaustion. He sits beside the other man in one of the chairs sat outside. “Where did you even get cigarettes from?”

“Don’t worry about me. This is just for the nerves.”

“Why would I worry, it’s not like you can—” Kun pauses before saying the word they both know, realizing it hits far too close to home right now. Silence falls between them until Kun asks, “Do you actually believe this will be worth it?”

“It will. We’ve worked too hard for it not to be.” Ten takes a drag from his cigarette. “We’re giving them a second chance. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

“A second chance. How interesting.”

“Everyone deserves one.” Ten glances at Kun from the corners of his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, but Kun already knows what he’s vaguely implying.

“And yet everyone doesn’t get one.”

“All the more reason to take the opportunity when it becomes possible.”

Kun doesn’t reply to that. Ten places a hand on his shoulder, but the older man meets this with little regard as he rises from his seat and walks away at a sluggish pace.

You stand in the train station ready to buy a ticket, clutching documents falsifying your identity and feeling more terrified than you possibly ever have. Today marks the seventh day, and you don’t even know if Lucas is alive right now. It was too risky to have any of the other clan members contact you—not until you and Lucas meet up in the designated place. You know Aldriel is an excellent potion master, and if he says the spell will work as intended then it will, but there’s always that seed of doubt.

Your parting with Aldriel had been typical of your relationship with him—you crumbling before him and him pretending like he was fine, lending enough strength for the both of you to survive on, though you knew he was also bleeding from the heart.

“You better not forget about me,” you’d told him, smushing your face into the sleeve of his shirt to hide your tears, though there was no stopping the flow. It was staining his shirt sleeve right through.

He’d scoffed at you, though it was a watery sound. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He’d held your head closer against his shoulder, the both of you glued together in whichever way seemed fit when you’d walked through his door one last time to say goodbye. “We’ll see each other again. Don’t worry.”

You’d lifted your head from his shoulder then, looking at him with an aggrieved expression. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Aldriel put his hand on top of your head, petting you like a small puppy. It was a thing you’d disliked since you were both children, but which only made your heart hurt even more now. “Have more faith in me than that, dear sister. You’ll see.”

When it’s your turn to get a ticket, you step up to the counter and hand over your information, trying to keep the shaking in your hands to a minimum. The teller behind the counter is also a fairy, their wings tucked against the back of their uniform but peeking out at the sides. You childishly try to take some solace in that, hoping there will be some solidarity between you two. Maybe they’ll be less critical of your legitimacy than any other being might be.

The process is scarily easier than you’d thought it would be, though you are sweating the entire time. A fake name and birth date, and no one suspected anything. All of this would have to be your new identity now if you were to live with Lucas in Tianjin without being discovered.

Getting on the train when it comes is only part of the long journey ahead. It doesn’t provide you with much relief, but you are at least thankful to have one segment of that journey complete.

—

It takes another cab to get to your destination once you’re off the train, but you soon arrive at the house of one of Aldriel’s friends and his similar-name twin—Raziel. Raziel was Aldriel’s most trusted and oldest friend, their woven history extending back to childhood. The three of you had grown up together, and you’d even been quite familiar with Raziel until they left for Tianjin some years ago. Now, you’re back in front of each other again under circumstances that you never could’ve guessed.

“You’re here. Good.” Raziel welcomes you into their house with open arms, tugging you into a jittery hug that you anxiously return.

“Have...you heard anything?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Raziel wouldn’t have gotten any more information than you have, not until Lucas was standing right on their doorstep. They shake their head and give you a sympathetic look, patting your hands.

“He’ll be alright. Everything will go well. I believe it.” Raziel guides you further into their house, presumably towards the room you’ll be staying in while you’re there. “It’s all so romantic, though—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I hope you know you’re doing a good thing, in the end.”

You force your facial muscles into a smile, though it is a ghostly and fleeting one. “Thank you.”

Either way, you will have to wait until nighttime to know if Raziel’s words come true or not; the sun is still high in the sky. It’s only midday. You’ve never before hated the sunlight, but right now you curse the sun’s rays that elongate the time between you and your lover.

—

“You all, give him some damn space,” Ten says, trying to pull the younger vampires away so they won’t crowd around the coffin. “He doesn’t need the scare of his life looking at all your faces when he wakes up.” Despite trying his best to be the voice of reason, Ten also has to refuse the urge to station himself beside the coffin and watch for the slightest movement of eyelids, the tiniest twitch of the lips. His hands shake from the frayed nerves of a week of nothing but death and gloom, and even though he doesn’t need to sleep, he thinks he will be out for at least two days after all of this is over.

There is no set time, no designated signal for when—or the dreaded if—Lucas will awaken. The waiting game feels longer than it really is, especially with the hours until the funeral commences steadily counting down. However, it is not very long before there’s a big sucking breath coming from the coffin, the sudden sound of lungs being filled after a week of complete stillness. Everyone rushes back to the bier when this happens, peering wildly inside the coffin.

Lucas’s eyelids flutter for an eternity before shooting open. He immediately seems distressed upon waking, sitting up out of the coffin so quick that it stutters on its stand, and the others have to steady it before it tips over.

“Xuxi...are you okay?” Sicheng asks, voice hushed with nervousness. Despite his unending anger and distress about the situation, Kun has also crowded in to witness Lucas’s awakening, and he visibly sags with relief to see the younger man is at last awake.

The look in Lucas’s eyes is wild. They are momentarily afraid that maybe something has gone wrong with the potion—maybe it has affected his mind somehow and he doesn’t remember any of them— but then he says,

“Y/N. Is Y/N okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sicheng replies. “I mean, hopefully. But it was safer to not have so much cross-communication going on—you’ll have to go to the meeting spot to find out…”

Though the reasons for this make sense, this does not provide consolation. Lucas fumbles his way out of the coffin with the men’s help. It’s clear he’s still disoriented, which makes them even more nervous, if that’s possible at this point.

“You should drink some blood before you leave,” Hendery suggests, and everyone else agrees. Lucas won’t argue that, so he downs one of the blood bags they have stored until he feels a little more like himself.

“You have to go soon, the funeral is set to start in another hour—we’ll have to leave—” Yangyang warns him, though the words fade at the end of his sentence. He doesn’t know how to continue his thought or how to even begin saying goodbye.

Lucas fills that gap by steeling himself and saying his farewells to each of them in turn, though his eyes are troubled and his chin crumples like he might cry at any moment.

“Don’t say I never helped you out with anything,” Ten says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. Being separated is painful, but it’ll ultimately serve its purpose of giving Lucas a chance at having a love that none of them could. After seeing Kun suffer the way he did after losing Jingyi, Ten wants to spare another one of his mates from dealing with the same fate.

When Lucas gets to Kun, there is a slight awkward silence and a swift exchange of glances—Lucas’s soft gaze butting up against Kun’s more solid one, which is simultaneously pleading to him and rebuking him for his actions. Still, Kun embraces him tightly enough that their bodies could join together.

“Xuxi…” Kun starts, “I don’t…” And then his words break, leaving an unspoken thought between them.

“One day, you’ll forgive me for this,” Lucas whispers to the older man. Kun gives him an endlessly hurt look in return, silently asking him how he could even conceive those words. When they separate from each other, it’s with much reluctance. Lucas looks at them all and nods once, his mouth tight with grief.

“Right. Time to go, then.”

—

You awake in the middle of the night to cool fingers on the side of your face, which startles you completely out of your sleep. Opening your eyes to an unfamiliar room scares you even more, and it takes you a moment to remember why your surroundings have changed. The knowledge comes back to you quickly when a large palm slips against your own, long fingers twining with yours.

“Xuxi,” you whisper quietly, the sound of his name hanging in the air like a prayer. One of the last few times you’ll be able to freely call him that, except in private.

You can’t see his figure well with all the lights turned out, but he had no problem navigating through the dark to reach your bedside. Wanting desperately to see his face, you fumble around for the bedside lamp switch before turning it on.

“Y/N…” Lucas’s face is suddenly illuminated to you in all its golden glory, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” you say breathlessly. You’re somewhat sad and wish you could’ve met him at the door, embraced him after his long trip, but it doesn’t much matter anymore because he’s here now.

“Poor Y/N. My baby must’ve been so tired.” Lucas bumps his forehead against yours, his whole body drooping with relief as he practically sinks into you, and you giggle a little as you complain about having to hold his weight up. There is a tingle behind your eyes that threatens to turn into a sudden burst of tears, but you try to hold them at bay for a while longer.

“Are we safe?” he whispers, needing your confirmation. “Raziel said so. But...are we really safe?”

“That’s frightening to even think about,” you reply quietly. “We can’t stay here too long, but for now…I think we will be.” Lucas nods without a word, still holding your hand. His blood-scent is completely absent, as it usually is when he’s around you, and you know he’s used the blockers. Soon, with the ability to go out together and not be arrested or threatened for it, that will not be necessary to disguise his vampirism anymore. “It...won’t be easy.”

“No, but the things we want out of life usually aren’t.”

You squeeze his hand. “Raziel will help take care of things for us. It won’t all be trials and tribulations. I hope.” More hesitantly, you ask him, “What was it like? Being dead?” You know that vampires, being once human, still have souls and an afterlife to go to like most other living beings.

The look on his face is worrying. He doesn’t meet your eyes; he only shakes his head and stares at your joined hands. “It was cold without you.” His lips pull into a weak and chapped smile, if only to quiet your worrying, but that doesn’t work as intended. You decide to leave it for now, figuring there will be more time to talk about it when he feels ready.

Turning the light back off, you both press your bodies together as close as they can physically get, Lucas’s head on your chest and his long legs all jumbled together with yours. You fall asleep before he does, lulled away by his comforting and safe presence. He stays awake for a while longer, staring into the dark and the dark staring back into him, before everything else falls away.

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smolcinnamonchipmunk · 3 years

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(I wrote it. I stayed up to write it, so here you go.. Tw// blood, dead bodies)

Rabbit had ventured too far from Syrus's domain, accidentally leaving the magical protection both of them had placed around his home. The vampire had described them as easily distracted in the past, but they'd defiantly denied it. They couldn't exactly deny it this time though, having followed a rather colorful looking butterfly that they'd never seen before, wondering if it was migrating or if it was just one of those things they'd never noticed before.

They certainly didn't notice how they flew out from the fairy ring boundary, and they didn't notice the eyes watching them from nearby. No, they remained mostly focused on the blue iridescent wings of the butterfly that caught the light. It wasn't until they were shot from the air that they noticed. Not by a bullet, thankfully or not, but a net that quickly tangled around them. The net fell, catching on the branches of a bush to leave them hanging.

If they could, they would have exclaimed in surprise at the turn of events from relaxing day to sudden entrapment.

Rabbit turned in the netting, quickly trying to summon any amount of magic, but nothing was working. Confused and a bit panicked, they looked over the material of the netting. The netting looked like it was made out of rope, but the only thing that could suppress their abilities was-. They fiddled with the rope, finding it oddly loose, and was able to peel away a few strands. They didn't need to touch the silver material underneath to make the assumption that it was pure iron, one of the most difficult things to get ahold of simply because if it wasn't forged to perfection with no impurities then it wouldn't have the same effect.

Uh oh.

They heard the sound of something getting closer, someone as they heard the sound of voices conversing. At least two of them, masculine sounding.

"I'm telling you, it's actually a fairy this time," one was incredibly excited at the prospect of catching a fairy, like most humans would be.

"Moron, you caught a hummingbird! The fairy was the butterfly, did you see the wings," the second voice snapped at whoever was first. "Let's just get back the net. Any lost is just another cost we can't afford."

"You didn't have the lookin' glass, I know what I saw."

Rabbit stayed still, hearing and seeing the movement of them outside the bush leaves and branches as they looked around for the fairy, hoping to not be found. They assumed the larger beings were humans, almost no other race cared about fairy magic since they had their own. But, of course, the two humans were searching every fern and bush, under every tree and tall grass, just to find the net.

They flinched when the branches on their bush were roughly parted, exposing them to the duo of hunters and nervously held onto the netting.

"Well, I'll be damned," the second voice belonged to a gruff man who definitely looked the part of a game hunter, his look one of surprise before a grin split across his face.

"See, I told you," the owner of the first voice was a bit smaller but also looked rugged.

How long the two humans had been in the forest, Rabbit had no idea, nor did they care. They only cared about what the humans planned to do with them. But, the humans didn't even care to address Rabbit, not even sparing the fairy a word or two before the larger human grabbed the net and untangled it from the branches, lifting them up to his face. It made them uncomfortable, the stare not exactly a comforting one, laced with fascination.

But more worryingly, it was laced with greed.

"Good idea covering the iron with twine, otherwise the burns would lower the value," the human said, looking at his companion. "Let's head back before any other fairies try and curse us."

The human shifted his grasp on the net, carelessly hanging the fairy at his side as both humans started walking through the trees back to where ever they had came from.

Rabbit was flabbergasted. Both at being caught, but also at how dismissive the humans were being. Sure, they couldn't exactly talk, but neither human had even attempted to try and communicate with them. And the humans had the audacity or lack of care to even discuss how much that they were worth!

Of course, they tried to shift and move in the bindings to try and see if they could wriggle out, but it didn't really work. They couldn't help but look back in the direction of home as they were carried away, as though staring would will Syrus into existence to help them from their predicament. None of it worked, making them increasingly more and more frustrated, leading to their struggles ramping up.

"Hey!" The net was shaken roughly, making them soundlessly exclaim in surprise and discomfort at the action. "Quit your squirming!"

Discouraged, Rabbit reluctantly settled in the uncomfortable net. They knew they were apparently valuable, but they didn't want to test how much the humans would be willing to 'damage the merchandise'.

The humans walked for what felt like forever, the sky darkening by the time they reached a cabin in the woods. It wasn't much to look at, but it didn't need to be, obviously a station for hunting. That much was evident by the several trophy heads inside, though all were mundane animals like deer or elk heads. The fairy's best guess was that the humans either hadn't caught anything magical before or had sold the entirety of everything they caught.

They didn't get much of a look around as the human holding them brought them over to the coffee table where a small chest sat. A rather shiny chest that had them tensing with worry that the entire thing was made of iron.

"Don't forget to check the traps, we still have to make our dinner," the human holding them said, taking out a key and unlocking the small chest. Without much care, the human tossed the fairy inside, not even giving them a second to adjust before closing the chest again.

Rabbit was left in total darkness, hearing the lock turn and receding footsteps that left them alone. At the very least, the inside of the chest wasn't coated in iron as well, otherwise any part of themself that touched anything but the twine would burn. They wondered if Syrus went out looking for them, knowing that he'd probably be awake by now and wonder why they weren't back. But they didn't know if he'd be worried yet, having gone a couple nights being late in the past.

All they could do for the next few hours was sit in relative silence, unable to even entertain or distract themselves. They slowly started to doze to pass the time, the stress making them feel exhausted. At some point, they heard two new voices along with the first, wondering how many humans were around.

Rabbit was startled awake by a sudden crash from outside, followed by some shouting. They heard a few things break, at least one human screaming. Both hope and concern flooded through them, sitting up in the chest as they waited with baited breath. And, after a minute, the chest was jostled. The sound of unlocking didn't accompany the opening of the chest, rather the sound of creaking metal and wood.

They looked up at the sudden reappearance of light, their eyes taking a moment to readjust and the sight made their heart skip a beat.

Syrus was above them, front shadowed from leaning over the chest and giving him a more ominous light. Not like he needed it. A look of pure fury was on his face, eyes glowing and covered in blood. The look of fury gave way a bit to concern, asking, "Are you okay?"

Rabbit nodded, having never seen their friend so angry before. It kind of scared them, but the concern reminded them that this was their friend.

The vampire looked relieved, murmuring "Hold on, then" before reaching in and carefully grabbing them and the net. It was definitely a stark contrast to the treatment from the humans, and he gently took them out of the net as quick as he could. While he untangled them, they could see the carnage of his ire behind him: the front door was smashed open, furniture overturned and two bodies on the ground. But they had been sure there had been at least four humans…

As if on command, they saw movement from one of the doorways, wings flaring and quickly gesturing to try and warn him before a crossbow bolt embedded itself in his shoulder.

Syrus cried out from surprise, expression quickly turning to one of anger again, though he glanced at Rabbit in worry.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to accidentally hurt you," was all the warning the fairy got before the vampire pinched their wings to their body and lifted them to his face. They barely got a second to process it before they were pitched into his maw. Including their wings, they were too large to fit entirely, but he wasted no time in starting to swallow them down.

They imagined that it couldn't really be comfortable for him, given no time to slicken the fairy up before trying to send them down. But, they were disoriented, finding themselves halfway in his throat before their mind caught up on the quick events. A few more quick gulps loudly resounded in their ears and they found themselves entirely engulfed by his esophagus, travelling down towards his stomach.

Before they even reached it, they felt Syrus moving, able to hear the muffled sounds of the other two humans screaming past the vampires growling around them.

Rabbit slipped into his stomach, feeling him pause ever so slightly. They righted themselves so that they weren't just laying on their wings, jostled around as Syrus fought. They heard something crunch outside, imagination running wild about what was happening exactly, but at least it wasn't Syrus. They heard him grunt, heard him snarl, and felt him lunge, cutting off a human scream The sudden action made them bounce in the organ before everything tensed around them, a deep growl reverberating around them.

Confused, they looked around, only becoming more confused when they heard deep gulps from above. In the darkness of the stomach, they got no warning when something joined them in the stomach, but they didn't need to see it to know what it was. The pungent smell was enough.

Blood.

Rabbit knew he survived off of it, but they'd never seen him 'eat' in front of them, unsure if it was for his benefit or theirs. But it still mortified them to be trapped with a growing pool of blood, something primal terrified. And it kept coming, rising past their ankles, their shins, their thighs, slowly coating them in the disgustingly warm and viscous liquid. They panicked the higher the blood got, backing away, and trying to get the vampires attention by hitting or kicking, wings flapping. But it wasn't working, the blood rising past their waist, reaching their collarbone quickly.

They squeezed their eyes closed as they focused in their panic, using all their unsuppressed magic to push back their curse ever so slightly, crying out as loud as they could, "S-Syrus!"

It was quiet, it was scratchy, and it was wavering in their fear.

But, it worked, feeling everything tense for a moment before the gulping immediately stopped. Of course, the blood already in his throat finished draining into his stomach, reaching their chin as they strained to not drown in it.

"I-... hold your breath."

Just as soon as the last of the blood dripped down, everything tensed again, forcing them back up his throat with a fair amount of blood. When they reached his mouth, he pinned them to the roof of his mouth and swallowed the blood back down. Probably to avoid traumatizing them more as he spat them into his hand.

They were still a little bloodstained, and he was still covered in it, but it could be worse.

"I-... sorry, Rabbit. I lost myself a bit," he apologized, looking as apologetic as someone covered in blood could look. "I didn't mean to drink, are you okay?"

The fairy nodded shakily, struggling to process everything.

"Are… Do you want to go home?"

The unasked question was obviously whether or not they felt comfortable enough to continue staying with him. Which, was debatable right now, but he'd never harmed them. He'd only done it to save them in the first place anyways. So, they pushed aside their conflicted emotions and nodded again. And the relief in his eyes made them feel even more sure of their answer.

"Let's go home then."

#cinnwrites #soft vore #safe vore #g/t vore #syrus #rabbit #medieval au

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

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❛ MY OTHER HALF ❜

✨ REQUEST: nose si voy tarde però bueno, espero que no. i would like to request (obviously if that is okay for you) a headcanon with angel x reader of the day of their wedding, like súper súper fluffy.

✨ MADE BY: @artofvamps

WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ Especial thanks to my lovely @angelreyesgirl for helping me with this wonderful masterpiece 🖤✨

❚❙ GIF credits: to the amazing @angels-reyes.

❚❙ ANGEL REYES MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

Never in your life you could think about having a most perfect wedding, Angel didn't care about it too much, being enough for him to see you happy.

The most magical place you have ever been. Especially when the sun is almost falling, around five pm.

From the window of his room, you can see the backyard perfectly decorated by Creeper and Riz. They didn't lie when they told you that would be amazing.

White and red roses everywhere, forming vines wrapping the wooden beams of the altar. Over the guests' chairs, there are six fairy lights, giving some more intimacy when the night has come; and a red carpet in the hallway, over the grass.

All your friends are there, mixed with the Mayans, waiting for you.

Your hands are trembling, alone in Taza's room, while you hear some voices and laughs outside. You can't help but take another look of yourself in the mirror.

The white dress fits your body perfectly, falling from your chest to the floor.

The girl at the shop called it ‘a-line wedding dress’. You don't care about the name, but about the fact that you look like the most beautiful girl. Your hair is tied on top of your head, behind a delicate silver tiara and small red crystals in it. Soft make-up, that Bishop's Old Lady did for you, just like your future husband likes.

Felipe is run of words when he comes to the room, but you can see what he thinks in his eyes, about to cry.

You know that he would like that Marisol could see you marrying her son. She would love to see the man Angel turned himself into since he met you three years ago.

“Hey, I’m Angel Reyes, and you know what? You’ll be my wife one day”.

He wasn’t wrong.

But he’s not going to lie. He has been the whole night having nightmares about you running away from him; about you deciding that you didn’t want a life with him.

Ezekiel and Coco have been awake too, comforting him whenever the doubts hit his mind.

Holding Felipe’s arm, he guides you downstairs to the outside, feeling your legs shaking and your heart about to explode. You have doubts too. You’re scared of him taking a step back at the last moment.

Although every bad feeling disappears from the two of you, as soon as you lay eyes with each other.

Angel is about to cry. So are you.

For you, for him, there's no one else around your orbit. Just the two of you. Him waiting at the wedding altar, watching you walk over the red carpet perfectly placed on the ground.

And, damn. You thought that Angel couldn't look better, until you have seen him wearing that suit.

A black suit, covering the immaculate white shirt under a silver waistcoat with mayan symbols tissues in it. His hair is perfectly brushed to the back of his head and his beard is giving you desires of kissing it.

Seriously, it should be illegal to look this good.

But the detail that steals all your attention is the fact that he isn't wearing his characteristics rings. That big silver cross in his right pinkie and a signet ring with the Virgin of Guadalupe in his ring finger.

Felipe kisses your cheek, to intertwine his son's hand with yours.

You can't help but use your free hand to clean the tears falling down his cheeks, making Angel chuckles softly. You are always taking care of him with the most minimal details, showing him how much you love him, before leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

“You changed me. You changed my life. You came with that smile, illuminating all the darkness around me. You've accepted me, advised me, shown me the road to happiness, put me first. You've never, ever, judged me. You've healed me, you've healed my wounds, my soul, my heart. You gave me the opportunity I always thought I would never have… You, mi reina, have loved me unconditionally without asking for anything back. I don't have enough words to express how I feel every morning when I wake up with you under my arms, when I kiss you, when I see you dancing in our kitchen, when you… look me with these beautiful eyes as if I was the fucking Big Bang happening in front of you”. Bringing your hands to his mouth, Angel kisses every knuckle of them. “I can't imagine a single day without you, without hearing your laugh, without reading your texts desiring me a good day when you wake up and I'm already gone. I don't wanna live a single day without hearing you singing in the shower, without riding my bike with you behind my back, without you smacking my ass and screaming ‘daaaamn, this is all mine’! You make me happy like no one could do. You make me feel important like no one could do. And I promise you, fuck… I swear it to God, that I'm gonna give you all of me. Every second of every minute, of every hour of every day till the end of my time. I don't want to live without you”.

Now, it's Angel who has to clean your tears, causing some laughs between the guests. And he can't help but wrap you with his arms in a tight, tight hug. The warmest and dearly hug he has ever given you.

“I didn't know what love was until I met you. I didn't know which was the meaning of life until I met you. Mi rey. My other half. It was you, and only you, since I saw you the first time sitting on your bike, smoking and with that face of grumpy idiot”. The guests laugh again, because they all know that pose. “And then you standed up and started to walk, and I thought ‘what the hell is wrong with his leg’”. More laughs. The loudest comes from your future husband. “But I would never change you for anyone else. We've been through bad days and good days. Shitty nights and funny nights. I would never change my life with you for anything else. No one has ever made me happy as you do every moment of my existence. You're the most awesome, incredible, loyal and lovely man I have ever met. You fight for me, you take care of me, you protect me. You make me smile whenever I feel insufficient, whenever I feel sad, whenever I feel that I don't belong anywhere. My home, my life, my happiness is wherever you are, Angel Reyes”.

Then, Taza as the priest looks at the two of you, before guiding his dark eyes towards you. “Would you want to take Angel Ignacio Reyes in hol—”. He can't finish, being interrupted by the man in question clicking his tongue. “Of fucking course she wants”. Gently grabbing your chin with a hand and placing the other on the back of your head, Angel kisses you by pecking your lips, making you laugh.

But Leti breaks the moment, coughing exaggeratedly. You asked her to be the flower girl and she has been practicing the last month, to don’t mess up her task. The most important one, actually.

For the next two hours, you can’t stop looking at your hand tangled with Angel’s, and the two fresh golden rings in your fingers. To other people they could be just two pieces of jewelry, but for you it’s the purest way to show him your love, your support, and your unconditional trust in him.

And for the next two hours, Angel can’t stop kissing your face all around. Going down with furtive kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your knuckles; not being able to take off from you his other arm around your waist, tightly closed to push you next to him.

Coco and Gilly are in charge of the speech, knowing that it’s going to be more funny than you thought, when they get up from their chairs drunk as fuck after too many shots of tequila. “Yo, mami… you really got the golden dick”. “Man!” Gilly punches him on the shoulder, making him strumble with his own feet and having to grab the other’s jacket to not fall. “I’m speaking the truth! Who was gonna think that he would get the girl to this point, ah?” “Not me”. “Me neither”. “You jealous, ah, motherfuckers?” Angel tosses them a napkin, causing the laugh of everyone around you. “Seriously, girl… How you do it to st—”.

“Enough?” Leti whispers to EZ, sitting by her side. The younger Reyes nods in silence, getting up, making Creeper and Riz a sign to take them off from the center of the yard; between curses in spanish and in some kind of invented language because of the alcohol.

“Hey, brother, I just want to tell you that by far this is the happiest moment of my life. You don’t deserve anything but all the love and the affection, and we all know that only her can give it to you”. You’re starting to think that EZ’s purpose is making Angel cry, because his eyes are being filled up with a bunch of tears now. “Our lives haven’t been easy, you know that… And you have put all the weight on your shoulders since ever, but I’m proud of you. Of who you are. Of calling you my brother. Mi sangre. I don’t desire you anything but happiness, Angel”.

“Yeah, and God bless your patience, sister”. Leti can’t help but add that remark, trying to not laugh when she finds you nodding energetically, before kissing your husband’s tears running down his cheek.

The big toast echoes all around the ranch, in the meantime that the prospects from Yuma and Stockton bring the cake. One of them. That’s the main, a three-story cake of black and white chocolate with your names drawn in red. Canche’s wife has made it for you. She’s an amazing pastry.

And you thought that Angel wouldn’t do it. HE PROMISED YOU ONE HUNDRED TIMES.

But that piece of shit were lying,

Stamping a piece of cake on your face, your husband quickly grabs your wrists to avoid you punch him, or do the same to him. As you sob between chuckles, keeping your eyes closed, Angel licks your lips with the tip of his tongue. “Mi dulce, mi favorito”.

“You promised me…”

“Ah, ah… I promised that I wouldn’t smash YOUR face IN the cake. And I didn't”.

After cleaning yourself and changing the heavy dress for another one that fits your silhouette to the perfection, you are ready to give your husband the last surprise of your wedding.

“Are you takin' me to a dark corner?” “Stop asking, Angel… You'll see”.

At the front yard, a baseball bat and a ball awaits. “What's that, baby?”

“Sh… I throw you the ball, and you hit it, okay?”

So there you are, watching Angel in position as in his old times, when he used to play in highschool.

You throw it.

He hits it.

And in just one second, the distance between you gets caught up by a pink powder, almost staining your clothes.

Angel is in shock. The bat falls from his hand. Eyes widened. Parted lips. His skin bristled, as his cheeks got wet again because of the tears.

“Felicidades, papi”.

He can't stop crying, embracing you with all his strength to his chest. Your husband can't believe anything that is happening today. All he has ever wanted is happening in a sight.

“The day we met, you told me that one day I would be your wife. And I told you that you looked like the father of my future children”.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ✨#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

We All Deserve a Fairy Tale Chapter 5

Warnings: Here be smut, my loves. Minors be gone, because it is explicit. First time writing smut, so I hope it works.

Frankie x female blank slate, use of first person. I think there is cursing.

Frankie ghosts you, then something happens to change it…

Thanks to @sharkbait77 and @hnt-escape If you want on my tag list, tell me. :)

I waited a week. A week and a half. And I broke down, finally, and texted.

Got the edits back for my next book. I hate this part.

After a moment, a reply. You got this.

Hope? Maybe? Or was he just being nice?

I responded anyway.

Maybe we can go out and see that movie tonight? Have dinner? A little fun before I chain myself to the computer?

No response.

I waited a day, but my stomach churned the whole time.

I texted again, after getting myself good and wound up. You don’t owe me any explanations. But please respect me enough not to ghost me. You’re not interested in me, that’s fine. But don’t leave me dangling. You’re better than that.

I hit send, regretted it immediately.

Your right. What’s your address?

“Shit. Shit. What have I done?” I whispered as I typed it to him.

About five away. K?

Yeah. Thanks.

I ran back inside the house and straightened myself up. Military minutes must be shorter than civilian minutes because I heard him pull up sooner than I was ready.

I went outside, to the back yard. I waved at him, half heartedly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and came over.

“Hey.” He gave me a soft smile. Everything about him was guarded. OK. Well, I asked him to come over and officially tell me to take a hike, so, I guess I deserved it.

“Frankie, I…”

“No. I, uh.” He looked at the ground between our feet. It was more dirt than grass. “Man, you weren’t kidding about this place being a wasteland.”

I laughed despite the rock in my gut.

He looked up at me, a little sideways. “Let me say my piece and go, OK?”

I hugged myself, and nodded.

“I like you.” He said so quietly that I had to lean closer to hear him. “Like you more than I’ve liked anyone for a long time. And I mean that. But wanting you in my life doesn’t mean I get to. I’ve killed — “

I started to object, say something about the army and of course he did and he did what he had to…

He saw it and said, firmly, “No.”

I closed my mouth and he nodded. “No. I’m talking about…less than a year ago. Some friends and I went on a mission. We said it was to help stop a major drug dealer but it was just…” He’s breathing a little heavier, now. Unable to look at me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs.

“People died.” He looks at me, then, the anguish in his eyes, the guilt. “My own fucking actions lead to one of my best friends getting killed. If I hadn’t taken that shot. If I hadn’t wrecked the fucking chopper…”

He steps forward and takes my hands in his. They’re clammy, shaking. “The mail you saw, it was a reminder. My friend’s widow, she’s angry and looking for answers and she doesn’t want any of us to be happy. And she’s right.”

I try to find words. I feel like I’m in a cave in, trying to scramble over rocks and debris.

“I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve you.” He touches my cheek for a second, a butterfly landing and running away. “I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna block your number.”

He kisses me. His lips are hot. When he steps back, I say, “So you’re not going to give me a choice?”

“Why would you want one?” His voice is incredulous. There’s an echo, under his words, I can see it in his eyes, in the frustrated way he throws his hands out. Why would you want me?

I shook my head. “You say you like me, but you want to close yourself off? Not give me a chance to get to know you, help you if I can?”

“It’s for the best. You see that, right?” There’s a desperate edge.

I shake my head. Everything that can possibly hurt does. I’m supposed to be so good at words, and I can’t find the right ones, the ones to reel him back in.

He adjusts his hat. “No, you don’t. I love your books, but they are fairy tales. You can’t make a good man out of a monster. It’s not how the world works.”

“You’re not a monster.”

He’s all twitchiness now, looking at his truck, desperate to get out of this situation. It makes me mad, how badly he wants to go. How I know I can’t fix this. “Don’t bother blocking my number.” I say, as I turn on my heel. “I won’t bother you again.”

He whispers my name and it is so pained that I almost turn around. But I don’t.

***

I don’t block his number. I can’t. I focus on work. My job that lets me eat work. My book. My hands shake on the keyboard, sometimes, as I try to make the story mine again. It’s hard to write a love story, even one with murder and mystery, when your own heart is broken.

It was ridiculous. I didn’t even know him that long, but the loss of him hurt. It made the story feel pointless. What right did I have to sell these lies? To make people believe in love and romance and happily ever after when you can meet someone so amazing and wonderful, and have to watch him walk away?

I kept working. I’d get over it. I had to. It’s not like I’d built anything with him. I was just aching for the possibilities — the things I tortured myself about. The things I imagined I m might have lost, with Frankie.

And damn it, I missed him.

But life continues. And sink faucets wear out, making you have to run to the local home improvement store, wandering the isles with an armload of new faucet, fittings, plumbers tape and everything else the YouTube videos I’d consulted said I would need.

The universe has decided that I have not suffered enough, because I can see him, Frankie Morales in the flesh, frowning at the back of a box like its his greatest enemy. He was in the home security section.

I could sneak by. He was way too interested in what he was holding in those lovely, large hands of his. I dashed by, head down, determined to just get past him, but some lady with a cart pushed past me at the same time, and my arm load of stuff got jostled. I was able to save the most expensive bit — the faucet in its box, the long flexible connection thingies — but the plumbers tape, in its plastic hard shell donut jumped out, fell onto the floor, and rolled right over to a well worn work boot. Spun like a top. Settled right against his toe. I looked up, too nervous to enjoy the view (much) and right into his eyes. His lips were parted, like he was a little surprised to see me.

“Hey.” I said, and then, because I didn’t know what else to do, I turned and fled back the way I came. I knew where the plumbers tape was, I could just go get another…

“Hey. Wait a second.”

I stopped, took a breath, smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

He held up the white plastic Judas. “Um…your faucet break?” And then he winced. “I mean, obviously. Um.” He placed the tape on top of my pile delicately. He was holding a box in both hands tight enough to warp the cardboard.

“It’s old. I thought I would try my hand at replacing it…can’t be that hard.”

“No, but plumbing can be really picky if you’ve never done it…”

“Don’t offer.” I whisper it desperately, before I can even think about it. I can tell he’s working himself up to it, and the thought of him in my house is like a punch ion the guts.

“It wouldn’t be a problem.” His dark eyes study my face. Sad. A little desperate. For a second I think, maybe he misses me, too.

“No. I got it.” I say softly, looking at the floor again.

“Do you still have my number? If you change your mind?”

I nod at the container. “Go back to your project, Frankie. I can handle this on my own.”

Did you know, plumbing is an utter bitch?

Throw in some more curse words in the last sentence. I certainly used every one I could.

Two hours later, I get a text.

Frankie: How did it go?

I want to sob. Instead, I put myself together and write a fairly moderate response:

Me: I have decided that I will now do my dishes in the bathroom sink. Who needs a sink in the kitchen? A total waste.

Frankie: The offer is still open?

Me: How did you know? Did you just look at me and think, she is too inept to be able to do this herself?

Frankie: No. I don’t think that at all.

Frankie: Let me help? Please?

Me: Since you said please, I guess I can allow you to come rescue me.

Frankie: OMW.

I looked at the time, and decided to order pizza. It was only fair.

Twenty minutes later he’s under the sink. “You did a good job. I think maybe you just cross threaded it…”

“Oh, no…did I ruin the threads?”

“It’s probably OK. I’ll just use a lot of tape…”

And he does some magical things with a wrench and the bright pink tape, which he wraps around the threads to make them more water tight. I try not to admire his long legs or the rest of him, spread out on my kitchen floor, as he half lays in the bottom of the sink.

The doorbell rings, and I go pay for the pizza, and when I come back he’s turned on the water, and he’s kneeing in front of the open sink bottom, using a paper towel to see if he can find any leaks.

“It looks OK?” I ask tentatively.

“Yep…you really did have it done mostly. Just that one spot.”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly. “I bought us dinner?”

“You are awesome.” He does a quick but of clean up so he can shut the sink doors and washes his hands in the newly repaired sink. He tosses his hat onto the end of the island, and I want to run my fingers through his hair. He does it for me, absentmindedly pushing the hair off his forehead.

We sit on either side of my kitchen island, sharing pizza. I don’t know what to say.

“It’s a nice apartment.” He said quietly, picking up another slice.

“It’s cheap, not far from my day job. It works.” I shove a hunk of crust in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else. I knew this would be bad. Here he is, sitting a few inches away. I could touch him, but I’m not allowed. It’s a rotten feeling, wanting something and not being allowed to have it. To feel his fingers wrap around mine. To have that easy, happy camaraderie again.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, when the silence gets too much.

He shakes his head. Wads up his napkin. Puts his plate in the sink. Locates the trash. Such a good guest.

“I shouldn’t have come. But I wanted to see you.” He said this quietly, as if he isn’t sure he should admit it.

“Well, if you hadn’t, I’d still be under the sink wondering why the damned fittings are still leaking.”

He gives me a gentle smile. “You would have been ok.”

“Lucky I didn’t block your number, huh?”

He smiles and kneels down, picking up tools and putting them back in the box. Sorting his from mine.

“It was nice of you to come help me? I might be a bit snarky, but I really am grateful for the help.”

“I was happy to. Where do you keep these?” I took my tools off him, put them and the plumber’s tape in my tool drawer.

“But why? Why were you happy to help? Why did you want to see me? You couldn’t leave here quickly enough the other day…” I smile to take the sting out. “Not that I blame you, the yard is a hot mess.”

He touches my face gently. “Hush.” I stop my babbling, lean into his touch.

“You asked me a question, awhile back.” I muzzle his hand. “I never got to answer it.”

“What was that?”

“You asked me if I wanted you. And I do. Very much.”

He made a huffing sound, as if he had been gut punched, and then, slowly, slowly, leaned in and kissed me. “I miss you,”. He whispers between kisses, his hands framing my face like I’m a delicate thing. “I miss you when I wake up. I miss you when I lay down to sleep. I miss you when I’m driving.” And each sentence he punctuates, gently, with a kiss, to my forehead, to my nose, to my mouth. “I barely know you, but you are already woven into my thoughts…”

I’m holding him tight, kissing him back. I bump my nose against his, sweetly, and I saw, “Then why? Why stay away?”

He pulls back as far as I’ll let him, sits down again. I see the ghosts in his eyes again, and I remember the lyrics from a song I used to love, “There’s ghosts in your eyes, they cry when you smile…”

“I shouldn’t have come…I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“No, not if you’re just going to push me away again. That’s cruel. I never thought you’d be cruel, Francisco Morales.”

He winces like I punched him.

“If it’s too soon to tell me, that’s fine. Just push it aside until you trust me. Or until it matters. I don’t care about your past, what you’ve done. I know you well enough to know you did what you had to do at the time.” I give in to the longing to touch him, I run my fingers lightly through the curls at his temple before letting my hand drop. He’s watching me like a landmine he’s stepped on. His fingers ghost over my hips. Grip them gently. Pulls me between his thighs. Now it’s my turn to be wary, as he pulls me close. His dark, liquid eyes study my face, I can almost hear him weighing and sorting. Lay your secrets on me, beautiful man. I want to tell him. But I wait. I wait until his large hands encompass me, run over my waist, the softness over my ribs, glide up the sides of my breasts so softly I am not even sure he touched me, to cup my face.

“I want to be who you think I am,” he says, and I smile gently.

A decision is made, in those fathomless eyes. And he leans close, and he kisses me again. The last kisses were loving. This kiss is passionate. Deep. So full of longing I could cry. I let my lips part and his tongue traces, licks inside. I make a little sound and grab his wrists, pushing them aside so I can wrap my arms around him, if I could meld myself to him, I would have then, melted inside of him like gold, fixing his cracks.

He stands, the stool scraping against the floor. The sound is jarring, lifts me out of the lust sodden moment. “If you want me, baby, you have me,” he says in that rough honey voice of him. “Show me the way.”

I take one of his hands in both of mine, I kiss each knuckle. I’d been playing with the idea, and now here I was. I could still say no. I could slow things down, I could be sensible.

But I’d never wanted anything so deeply, so profoundly, as I wanted him. Every time I touched his skin, I felt like something lost had been returned to me.

I smiled a little at him, and backed away, pulling him with me. “This way, sweetheart.”

His lips are on mine the second we cross into my bedroom. Once Frankie Morales makes a decision, he is all in. His hand cups the back of my head, holding me so he can kiss me, his tounge sliding against mine as his other hand slips under my shirt. I pull back and tug at his shirt. “Off.” I command, and he grins and sheds it. My shirt and my bra join it on the floor. I press my breasts to the warm smoothness of his chest. I run my hands over his ribs, his stomach, as his mouth claims mine again. His skin is soft and warm, strong muscles flexing under my hands. I kiss along his jawline, I lick and kiss the constellation of freckles on the side of his neck. He moans softly in approval as I nip and kiss my way to his shoulder.

His own hands slip up to my breasts, weighing them in his hands, squeezing gently. He runs his thumb over one nipple, then bends to lick the other into his mouth, sucking gently, his tounge flicking at the hard peak. His freehand is splayed against the small of my back, holding me in place. Pleasure shoots through me, and all I can do is cling to him. He lets me go and pushes me gently. I fall back onto my bed, tearing at the button on my pants, needing to get everything off, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, his strength and softness.

“Condoms?” He asks, one knee on the bed. “I didn’t think…”

I shook my head. “I’m on the pill?”

His eyes darken further, and he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod and hold out my arms, and he gives me the sweetest smile. He stands up again and undoes his pants, sliding them off, and he’s naked and beautiful and I just want him wrapped around me. He slips into my arms and kisses me again, his arms holding him over me. He gives me a little of his weight, grounding me. It feels so good, skin sliding against skin, warmth against warmth,

His slips a hand between us, and I clench at the thought of him touching me just as he slides two thick fingers between my folds, rubbing my clit gently, exploring me. “So wet.” He whispers, kissing my temple. “So soft.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “So hot.” And his takes my lips again, his fingers rubbing my clit, making me shake with building pleasure. “I want to taste you, sweetheart. I want to make you come on my tounge…can I, baby?”

I nod. I don’t know who can resist that voice, rough with lust and promise? He kisses his way down and I spread my legs wider, and he gently licks — a test lick, from my entrance to my clit. He licks my clit, hard, with short licks before drawing me into his mouth and sucking me. He is fervent, as he works, and I can’t think about anything but the heat of his mouth. As the pressure and pleasure builds, I’m making the most needy sounds, unable to control myself. His slips one finger in, then a second, exploring, touching, then another, stretching and reaching for that spot. The rippling explosion leaves me shamelessly arching into his mouth, crying out his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, kissing the inside of my thigh, rubbing his beard against the soft skin.

He comes up to kneel between by thighs. His eyes meet mine as I struggle to compose myself, and his hand gently comes up to very gently lay across my throat, his thumb tracing my chin.

“Are you sure? Where do you want me to come?”

I nod frantically. “Please, baby, I want you. Inside me, please…”

His hand slips away from my throat to rest on the bed above my shoulder, and I miss the warmth of it as he gently strokes my skin, settling his hand on my thigh. He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it before rubbing it against my clit, causing me to whimper. He runs the head of it up and down a few times, his eyes slipped closed, his jaw going slack, that lush lower lip parting. I wish I had a picture…he was beautiful. Skin made gold by the fading light, thighs splayed under mine. I felt the head of his cock in my entrance, and he pressed in, a slow hot stretch until he was sheathed completely.

“Oh, fuck.” He whispered. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

He lowered himself back on top of me. “You feel so huge inside me, baby,” I whisper in his ear. “You feel like heaven. Please…fuck me, honey. Please…” And he started moving, slow at first, the changing the angle and speeding up. With every thrust he pressed against something that felt so good…I was seeing the proverbial stars as he gasped in my ear, making soft sounds of pleasure every time he slammed home. I nipped at his shoulder, and he was looking down at me, dark eyes studying me.

“Frankie, I…I can’t think, I don’t know what to do…”

“Don’t think. Just let me take care of you. It’s all I want to do…” He captures my mouth in a sloppy kiss. “Just let go.”

And I do. I cry out his name as he continues to move, the friction making my high last. He speeds up, and I cup his face in shaking hands.

“You’re so beautiful. I want to feel you come, Frankie, honey, come for me.”

He moved to kiss the palm of my hand, then his eyes squeeze shut as he finds his own release. I can feel it, spilling hot inside of me. I welcome him as he lowers himself down completely, unable to stay up on his forearms any longer. He tried to shift off, but I cling to him. I welcome his weight. His strength.

I don’t want to let go. I never want to let him go.

#frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #SMUT #My Fic

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patchies · 3 years

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Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not… Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: none that I can think of

Word Count: 2.8+k

Author's note: hi, hi, hi! I bring you a new chapter after what... 1 and a half months of not uploading anything? My apologies are probably not enough, but I have been working on chapters, I promise! And, drum roll, please, I might have some art in store for this series. It isn't done, yet, but I'm trying to work on it, guys!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 4: Forming Friendship

As the sun starts off the next day, you and Nick depart from your home in search of more resources. He throws in a suggestion that you should spread out, so you could cover more ground, and you agree- not like you have anything else to do for the meantime. Unless you want to be stuck at home playing some card games Nick had found while searching for the paint buckets.

You search the places south, just outside the town. All the buildings look the same to your wondering eyes, nothing valuable piquing your interest that much, so you rather opt for wandering further. Through the greenery until a clearing reveals itself before you.

A beautiful and elegant meadow stretches across the horizon. As if a page was torn from a fairy-tale book, and rightfully so. The only thing missing is a royal castle or fairies' houses. Pollen flies in the air and swirls around you enchantingly and a surge of calmness goes through your being. An accommodation in your body along with the feeling of delight.

The nature has truly taken over most of the world.

It's not like you can complain, really. Colours, textures and elements flow with each other in a beautiful harmony, creating an almost painting-like picture that you can marvel at.

Deep down, you were always a fan of the quietness Mother nature has offered you at times in need. Whenever you felt down, really.

You slightly remember how it helped you with your anxiety, shyness and depression when you used to be socially awkward and unwilling to do something about it. It felt peaceful compared to the continuous pressure many people used to put on you. Not many people were harsh on you, but your social battery could take so much until all you were ready to do was just lie down, put on a playlist of your favourite songs and chill. They denied your want to be left alone when the only thing you needed was space and your own time. Their faces are now blurry images of faces you once used to know, but you don't know if you'll ever get back to your life or how long it might take.

I should throw away my pessimistic thoughts…

That was a part of the old you, though. You'd like to think that you're better now, but your pessimism has stayed with you nonetheless. It's about time you started working on it and who knows? You might get to form plenty friendships here who will be willing to help you.

With a shake of your messy hair, you focus back to the beauty in front of you, pushing the vines away and walking towards the flowery meadow.

Yellow grains contrast gorgeously with the sparse greenery the field has to offer here and there.

You bent down and pluck one of the many Dahlias near your feet, putting the pistil close to your nose.

Sniff, sniff, sniff

The flower alone doesn't smell alluring or sweet, like anything. The stem and leaves, on another note, smell bitter with a slight flowery undertone. It strikes a sense of serenity in you as you inspect the innocent white petals be carried away from you by the wind, flying off to the clear sky to join the fine powdery substance.

You let go of the stem and watch it be snatched, following its trace until it falls between the loads of flowers.

Just then, a gentler breeze begins and takes a handful of leaves of the ground, aiming just below a small hill to your left as if it had a mind of its own. You realize that it might actually do as it points you to a lone building sitting at the base, overflown with the finest flora you've ever faced.

A mere bookshop from what you can see from the distance. The walls are built from brick and it still seems in a decent shape, except the nature, but that gives it a special charm. A great place to get away from all this chaotic and death-threating events for even a while.

You carefully move through the grass and blossoms, trekking your way up to it.

• • •

Meanwhile, somewhere far away from you, a deer curiously, yet cautiously, examines you from a cliffside looking over the whole meadow. Its doe eyes flick from you to a small fawn by its side.

It huffs, shakes its head and turns, departing into the forest.

• • •

The inside is wondrous, despite your expectations of it being completely trashed.

Bookshelves line the walls and are all filed with all styles of literature. Slightly used, torn and unkept. It gives you an idea how no one surely visits this place. The place looks great, so it doesn't make much sense to you. You cannot help but be a little happy over the fact at that despite the telling signs of its abandonment.

Your hand automatically lifts up to slide over the spines of the books, keeping your touch light as you advance further inside. The rough, yet extremely soothing, texture extracts a small smile from you and you close your eyes. You begin dragging your other appendage across the parallel shelf until a thud makes you shoot your eyes open in alert, whipping your head behind you, but finding nothing out of ordinary.

With your now unsure footsteps, you slowly walk to the end of the aisle in front of you, peeking around the corner.

You catch sight of a short boy sitting in front of a shelf, or rather a stand, with comic books. He's sat down near the middle where the wooden stand is, flipping through each comic with haste.

A messy brown nest of hair sits atop his head while a flower crown with some scarce plastic bees thrown in reasts atop and a long green scarf messily wrapped around his neck. It strangely compliments his look that is styled with green, golden and black and despite the apocalyptic surroundings and lack of proper resources, you're surprised he's styled it very prettily.

A black stylish coat with golden accents is thrown on the floor near him along with his messenger bag, its contents peeking out. Especially the thick book with a pack of pencils. You wonder what the book contains, but maybe you'll get a chance to see it sometime.

You cautiously and carefully lean against a counter near you, observing the young boy as he shuffles through numerous comics. He huffs out a long sigh, throwing another book aside. It comes tumbling down back to him due to the amount he has already piled on top of each other. His nimble fingers pick up another one, swiping through it with precision.

He mumbles something quietly, softly putting the comic onto another pile beside him that is neat compared to the other one.

This demeanour continues for a long minute, basically choosing a book in a ratio that one is kept and twelve are thrown away. He never seems too happy with his decision, frowning at some in sadness despite having to give up on them. You don't understand why he doesn't put them onto the obvious piles of his favourites, but you stand in your place.

Having enough of watching, you whistle too loudly to get his attention.

Only to see the guy jump up in the air and slip on a paper he has previously abandoned on the ground. He pointlessly flails his arms around until his elbow hits the ground first, followed by his hip and the rest of his body.

You wince.

As if caught in the headlights, he spins his head to you. The previously left out paper now present on his head. You see confusion, fear and surprise fight against who will persevere on his face, so you lower your shoulders back down and give him an awkward smile, “Uh, sorry?”

He unsurely stumbles to his feet and dusts his clothes off, tightening the scarf around his neck with tense movement. His eyes widen and he makes a quick, though awkward, show of pulling out a stick?

He fumbles around with it for a bit before it extends into a normal looking sword, posing heroically, “I'll- uh, stab you! Yeah! I'll use this sword to stab you.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his choice of words, and at the adorable stutter he did, “Do you even know how to wield a sword?”

“Of course, I do! Wait- do I? No, no, no, you're just trying to make me look silly. I do know-”

Cue an uncoordinated swing of the sharpened weapon at his own leg, but at least his reaction time seems to be fast and he slides his foot out of harm's way just in time. One he created, and he watches as the sword penetrates the wooden boards and he struggles to pull it out.

His action makes you doubt his abilities further and a you can't help the small giggle that escapes you, raising your arms in mock defence when he sends you a defensive glare, “You- you cannot be serious. Quit the child's play, I'm not here to hurt you.”

He stays quiet, still pulling on the handle of the sword with unfortunate outcomes. It slips out of his fists multiple times and he sighs before flopping down onto the floor, defeated, “I guess I really don't know.”

You choose not to retort any sassy comeback to his gloomy self, rather analysing his figure and approaching the weapon. Arms still held above your head to show you don't plan on attacking, your features soft, “Mind me getting the weapon for you? I won't use it against you, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” he gives you an absent wave of his hand and only stares as you grip the handle.

At first, you tug and nothing happens, so you try holding it at a specific place and are delighted when you feel a small button press against your palm, giving it one more tug along with a squeeze of the switch.

An imaginary lightbulb blinks above his head as he sees the sword retract from the ground and you're left gripping the stick in your hand, “See? It isn't as hard, is it now?”

“I admit, you're right,” he accepts the handle from your outstretched hand, storing it into his hoodie pocket.

No wonder you didn't notice it before. He's had it hidden there and he had to have pulled it out when you whistled. Although you personally wouldn't own a weapon like that, it probably comes in handy for situations like these. You aren't sure if it'd be beneficial in an actual fight against a stronger and better crafted weapon, though.

A switchblade would do a better job, surely. From what you've seen, they're a lighter object, more portable and friendlier to beginners. Might even suit his style of fighting better, even if you haven't seen it in action yet, to be truthful, “I do believe I'm right.”

“I would beat you if I had my hatchet!”

You chuckle, “Well, we can always engage in hand-to-hand combat, if you're that confident in getting me. Why use weapons?”

His eyes widen and all his courage dissipates, waving his hands crazily and shaking his head, “When you say it like that, I'll pass you on that offer, thank you. Why didn't you attack me, by the way? Oh, and also, I'm Tubbo, since we seem to be okay with each other.”

Refraining from telling him your name back, you swing your arm at his head and watch him yelp, shut his eyes and flinch from you in humorous satisfaction. You stop it inches from his face, lowering it and stepping away from him, “You should've seen your face, Mr. Tubbo. I'd say we are okay, but I had to pull that on you and to answer your question of my peace towards you… You just seemed harmless.”

He stands up and looks at you in feign anger, jabbing an accusing finger into your chest “You're so cruel, what? I can't trust you now.”

Tubbo crosses his arms, turning away from you. You turn away from him and spot his collection of comics. His previous actions coming to the forefront of your mind, “Hey, why were you browsing through so many comics?”

“I was looking for something,” he shrugs, walking past you and picking up quite a big amount of comic books. He catches the incredulous glance you give the items in his hands and nods his head at them, “They aren't for me.”

“You looked quite sad when you couldn't grab one for yourself, why can't you?”

He's surprised you picked up on that, but he just shrugs, “I would. If my bag allowed me to carry so much at once and I just want to surprise my friends.”

You give a small 'aww', making his ears flush pink and cower away, “I could help you carry them. Where is your camp?”

“I don't think I should be revealing that to strangers, but I've never been the smartest with decisions and I'm sure you'd notice either way,” Tubbo stuffs the books inside his bag, barely closing it, “I could just act like I abducted you.”

“Won't that be suspicious? You actually seem like a person who's too nice to do that.”

The bee boy lightly grins at that while putting his coat on, throwing the messenger bag on his shoulder, “I'm bad at acting, too, so they'd surely notice.”

“Are any of them keeping guard on this place, by the way?”

“No,” his answer is straight-forward, without any hesitation, “It might be very shocking, but none of my friends know about this place. Although I visit quite often than not. It gets quite harsh out there, y'know?”

You hum, choosing to drop the subject and return back to an airier topic, “Which ones do you like?”

Tubbo's quick to light up at the change, dropping to his knees and shuffling through the messy mountain of comics once again. He carelessly throws ten of them at you in happiness and leaves you grasping them to your chest. You laugh at his enthusiasm, reading off few of the titles and shaking your head as he keeps on searching for more.

This was probably a crazy idea, but whatever. Tubbo seems like an adorable person to be around.

Not long after you get ready to leave, keeping the conversation loose and it's almost effortless how you get along. The themes get intertwined between you with ease, pointing to some aspects around you if you want to make a point.

He is a strange guy to get a hold of, but you can say that you like how easy-going talking is with him. The male has visibly suffered some of his own stuff, but he still has this bubbly personality around him that you can't wrap your mind around. Though, you enjoy that little perk he has.

At one point, you lose sight of the boy, looking around you in confusion only to have him appear behind you and throw a freshly made flower crown on top of your head. The question of where he got it from is lost to his ears as he babbles on how he needs to teach you the crafting of one, so you could be 'flower crown buddies'. His own words. Your reaction is to bump your shoulder with his, joking how he is too goofy for you to even want to learn. A look of betrayal is thrown at you and you chuckle.

He proceeds to skip at certain intervals during your trek through the forest, too, visibly being excited to earn a new friend who is close to his wave-length. You don't even notice when you get close, having too much fun getting to know each other and goof around, but Tubbo increasingly slows his steps near an old-looking house.

He turns to you, “Well, this is my stop. I shouldn't take you further or I'll get spanked for not listening to my peers.”

“Uh, I won't respond to that, though I hope everything's alright back at your base. You shouldn't go through child abuse anywhere,” you awkwardly scratch at your neck, handing him the comic books meant for him.

Tubbo light-heartedly laughs at your perplexed self, a jokester-like glint appearing in his eyes as he accepts the papers, “I hope we can meet again.”

“I do, too, and hey. The library can be our place, if you're comfortable enough to call it that,” you heartily smile at him, ruffling his hair and receiving a pouty 'hey! my hair, not yours!'.

He shakes his head to fix your doings, throwing a lop-sided grin, “I can allow that.”

“Well, I should go,” you look up to the sky, seeing the sun brightly shining more to the west side now. It shouldn't be that long before you'll have to get ready for the night and report your findings with Nick. Not like you have much to say to him, but there are some things worth mentioning to him, “I have a friend possibly waiting for me already. It was incredible meeting you, Tubbo!”

“Likewise.”

#technoblade #dream #sapnap #apocalypse au #reader insert #mcyt x reader #mcyt #techno #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #l'manburg #shadows #??? x reader

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tomtenadia · 3 years

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Island Dreams - Chapter 26

Hello people! Chapter 26 is finally here.

So, Aelin and Rowan go on an adventure for a while because something happens (you will found out what in the first line)

Toward the middle, they have a Harry Potter chat. I am not a fan but i inserted the dialogue because of where they are. And guess where Rowan gets sorted? Also, sorry I was nasty to Gryffindors... the little I know about them it's enough for me not to like them. Once a Slytherin always a Slytherin.

All the locations I have mentioned and the restaurant actually exists. Please google them if you are curious :)

Aelin during one part of the trip sings a song (near Loch Lomond) The song she sings is Loch Lomond by Runrig. This is a very, very sad song but is also one of those that it's almost impossible not to sing along. At least the version by Runrig. You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHu0h9XaNcg

As of this morning I officially wrote the last sentence in the fic. One chapter still has some parts that needs developing, plus my usual editing but i wrote the end this morning.

Anyway, for now I'll leave you with chapter 26.

Have fun :)

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It was the beginning of May and Aelin and Rowan were packing for a small adventure. Two months before they had received an invitation from Elide and Lorcan to attend their wedding in Glasgow. They had accepted and they were now getting ready for their little getaway. This was going to be their last chance to have a holiday before the arrival of the twins. Lysandra was going to look after Rowan’s shop. She and Aedion had arrived a bit earlier than scheduled as he had been asked to start working a bit earlier. Lysandra, on the other hand did not have as much luck on the work front. Her job had been put on hold for the foreseeable future so when she had overheard Rowan talking about hiring as assistant for the shop she had volunteered. She had admitted that she was not a book nerd like the two of them but she liked to read so she was happy to run the shop. He had given an intensive training and once he was happy he decided to leave her in charge while he was away with Aelin.

“I can’t find my hoodie.” Aelin grunted while she was finishing packing her case. Their house was now a sea of boxes. They were a few weeks away from moving to their new place. The works had taken longer than expected which in the end it turned out to be a blessing. Lys and Aedion were there and they had offered to help with the move. Aedion had joked that they were Aelin’s personal removal company. “Which one?” “Yours. The uni of Glasgow one. It’s big enough that I can fit my huge belly in it.” Rowan came back two minutes later with the hoodie in his hands “You can’t function without me.” She stuck her tongue out and donned the hoodie “It’s far too early in the morning.” “We need to leave in half an hour. Is your bag ready?” “Yes. It was ready last night but then I realised I forgot some bits.” And she placed her Scotland’s guide in her carry on backpack. “You don’t need that.” He said pointing at the book “I know Glasgow very well.” “It was mostly for the drive from Skye to Glasgow.” “I know that very well too. I have done it a million times.” He grabbed the book from her. “Fine.” And he put the book aside. Ten minutes later she announced to Rowan that she was ready to go and he sighed in relief. They had a ferry to catch and he was being his paranoid self. He grabbed her suitcase and his duffel bag and walked out to the car to load it. Once he was done he went back to the house. Aelin was already in the car and noticed him coming back with a bulky pillow that he bought her to help her for the long road trip and stay as comfortable as possible. She smiled and noticed his other hand holding a bag. A moment later she found out that bag contained snacks for their very long car ride. Since the accident with the Korean he had been even more careful with her food. “Are you ready?” He got in the car and made sure she was all set to go. Aelin smiled “Punch it.” They arrived in Tarbert with plenty of time for their ferry. Rowan had gone to buy the tickets and Aelin waited in the car all excited for this big adventure. She had driven a part of the road they were taking when she arrived a year before but she knew that with Rowan as a guide it would be much, much more different. She had a look at her phone and realised that a year ago exactly on that day she had arrived on Lewis and walked into his shop and changed their lives. She patted her belly “It’s a big day today for mum and dad.” “I am back.” Said Rowan while getting back in the car and placing a ticket on the dashboard of the car “They should start loading soon.” “Is this one of those where we can go on deck?” “Yes, we will be able to go on deck. It’s a gorgeous day. This is an amazing crossing.” Aelin took Rowan’s hand a placed it on her bump “Do you know which day is it today?” He stared at her “hmmm… I think it’s the day when my favourite menace walked into my shop looking for books and never left.” “Happy anniversary.” She whispered while leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you for coming into my shop.”

It was over an hour later when they docked in the tiny village of Uig on the Isle of Skye. And Aelin was in hyper mode already. When he told her they were going via Skye she had started reading all about it and it looked like the most magical place she had ever seen. They would stop in a few places along the road but they had planned to stop a bit more on their way back when they had more time. They got back on the road and not long after she noticed Rowan taking a very small road “Where are we going?” “There is a place I need to show you.” They arrived not long after and Aelin’s mouth fell open. The place in front of her seemed like it came out from a fairy tale book. And she could not stop staring at how green and lush it was. “Welcome to the Fairy glen.” Aelin’s head whipped to his side “You are kidding.” “No, that its name.” He got off the car and reached her side “We’ll go for a short walk. We’ll stop again in Portree and have proper lunch there, but I had to show you this place.” Slowly they walked to the small hills. Aelin spotted what looked like the remains of a castle and was annoyed that she could not climb there. Rowan held her from behind and turned her “Look over there.” And he pointed at the big hill in the distance and Aelin spotted a few waterfalls “This place is amazing.” “Why is it called Fairy glen?” “Skye has a connection with the Fairies thanks to the Fairy flag at Dunvegan castle, which will visit when we come back.” “Is Schatach’s castle far away? According to the legends she was a warrior on the Isle of Skye and there should be a place called Dun Scaith which allegedly was her home.” His arms tightened around her, he loved her interest in Celtic mythology “It’s in the south. I’ll take you there when we come back. I promise.” Then he grabbed his backpack and took a couple of sandwiches from it “Sit down and have a little snack” He helped her sit down in the grass and she took food and strawberry milkshake from him. Once their breakfast was over Rowan helped Aelin to stand and hand in hand they walked around the glen and Rowan had to restrain Aelin from climbing in places where she shouldn’t “Seriously?” And he folded his arms at his chest. “Fine, I am not climbing.” They explored a bit longer and then Rowan pressed to go back in the car and on the road. “I was planning on getting into Portree for lunch. Fancy doing a very touristy thing?” “If I can get a fridge magnet, yes.” Rowan roared with laughter. That had become their recurrent joke “I think so and you will be able to get more once we are in Portree.” “Good. Our new fridge will be fully covered.” “I have not agreed to that.” He complained, giving her a smile at the same time. “Where are you taking me?” “We can take a detour to Carbost and we can have a tour of Talisker distillery. All the tourists go to whisky distilleries when they come to Scotland.” “Yes. I know I will not be able to drink but I don’t care. I always wanted to do it. Yes, let’s be tourists.” “As you wish, Fireheart.” An hour later they had arrived at the distillery and Aelin jumped out of the car “This is so awesome and I can smell the whisky.” Rowan took her hand and they walked in. The next tour would be in half an hour so they explored the shop and Aelin bought her magnets and a bottle of whisky for Aedion, she knew he’d love it. She just had to find a nice present for Lysandra now as a thank you for covering the shop. “Let’s go and sit outside, it’s gorgeous.” The view in front of the distillery was breathtaking. The loch in front of them seemed infinite and it was framed mountains in the background. Aelin ate another sandwich while suntanning. She had shed her hoodie and was in a t-shirt, her bump pointed at the sun “The girls and I are suntanning.” Rowan sat on the bench beside her and kissed the bump “how are you three doing?” “They are quiet. They kicked a couple of times but now they are probably snoozing.” And caressed the belly. “If you get tired you let me know. I have enough breaks planned so you don’t spend too much time sitting in the car.” “We are doing fine. I promise.” She brushed his hair. After her night trip to the A&E he had been even more over protective and his fussing levels had sky rocketed. But he had been wonderful to her. He had gotten her all the food she was craving and cooked for her all the recipes she wished. He was with her at every single appointment and he had started reading a lot of books about pregnancy and parenting. She had realised a while ago that Rowan had been brooding. He had confessed to her that he had wanted a family for a very long time and she knew that Lyria was against it and Aelin had a feeling that it had been one of the things that destroyed him the most about the failed relationship. “Let’s put the bag in the car and go for our tour.” He offered his hand and she took it and followed him.

It was later when they came out of the distillery and Aelin was ecstatic. “I had no idea you guys had so many varieties of whisky and it was so fascinating.” He kissed her head “glad you loved it.” “One of the ladies in our group kept staring at you.” Rowan took her hand “Thank you for leaving her alive.” “She got some cold stares from me. Seriously woman, stop staring at another woman’s man.” “Let’s go, menace.” Aelin followed him back to the car and not long after they were on the road to Portree. Rowan had explained it was the main town and after a year on the islands she had an idea of what main town meant. Once in Portree, Rowan parked the car, Aelin grabbed her backpack and off they went. When in the main square, she noticed the tourist office and she dragged him inside explaining that that was the perfect place for another fridge magnet. Rowan sighed and followed her inside. He waited for her in a corner of the office and she came back later with a big bag. “That’s a bit of an oversized magnet.” He joked. “It’s Lys’ present. I got her a lovely bag made locally here on Skye. Lysandra loves bags and I know she will adore this one.” “It’s actually really nice.” He added, looking at the present she had bought. They dropped the bag in the car and Rowan had convinced her to put her stuff In his backpack so she didn’t have to carry anything. Once they were all sorted they walked to the marina and Aelin squealed when she saw the houses painted in pink and blue and green “That is so lovely.” For a while they followed the path along the marina until Rowan declared it was time to feed her and for her to sit down for a while. Aelin did not protest at the idea of food and followed him to his favourite seafood restaurant. The meal had been superb and Aelin leaned back on the chair with a satisfied smile on her face “I wonder if the desserts here are nice.” Rowan scoffed “How can you still have space?” “You should know that you have agreed to marry a bottomless pit.” Once lunch was over they were back in the car. Rowan had told her they were taking the ferry across to Mallaig instead of the bridge back to the mainland. They would do that on their way back. He had also explained that once across the water there were some amazing beaches they could stop to and have another break and Aelin was easy to convince. During the trip down to Armadale he had chatted away being her personal guide and she realised they might need a week just to explore Skye. She loved the islands but she realised there was so much on the mainland that a lifetime might not be enough “we should take breaks more often. There is so much to discover.” “We can definitely do that and it would be nice to travel with our two girls.” She put her hand on his knee and in that moment one of the girls or both kicked “They agree.” “Are they moving?” Aelin smiled as his hand moved to the bump. “Every singe time, it amazes me.” And she saw love in his eyes “It just the idea that there are two small human beings growing inside you. It’s just… incredible.” She took his hand and kissed it “just don’t be too in awe. You will be less impressed by the process when you will see how it happens, live.” “I will be in awe of you and what you will do.” She turned to him and blew him a kiss “You will be such a loving dad.” “I will do my best.”

They were just about to dock in Mallaig when Aelin’s phone went off and she noticed it was Lysandra. “Hi Lys, how are you doing?” “I am doing amazing and the shop is fine. I had a busy morning and I had no idea how fun it was to work in a bookstore. Tell Rowan the shop is fine and that I had good sales as well.” “He will be happy to hear that.” Aelin gave Rowan the thumbs up after she noticed the worry in his face when she said it was Lys on the phone. “How are you guys doing?” “We are about to dock on the mainland in Mallaig. The weather down here is amazing and we are having fun.” “Gotta go. Customers. Keep me posted.” Lysandra hung up and Aelin followed Rowan back to the car “Lys says the shop is fine and that she had a busy morning with good sales and that she is having a great time.” Rowan laughed “good. You can tell her that she can keep being my interim assistant until she gets a job at the hospital. It seems like she has a knack as well. She might want to keep busy and well, I need an assistant and we could not find anyone I liked so…” “You had very high standards.” “No. I just wanted someone who had a bit of interest and willingness to work.” “Time to drive, old man.” Joked Aelin when one of the car deck crew motioned them to move forward and disembark. They drove for a very short distance until Rowan pulled in, in a car park. Aelin was giddy, while they were driving past Morar bay, her face was attached to the window. There were sands everywhere, but Rowan kept driving. She was dying to get off the car. She new he was trying to get them as close as possible to their destination. Walking for long was getting very problematic for her so he was just being his thoughtful self. Once at the car park, she opened the door as soon as the car stopped and was out. “Come on, Buzzard. I need to go to the beach.” He grabbed the backpack and put a hat on her head “Now we can go.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the small path. Usually he was the guide, but when it came to beaches, she was the one leading the way. Rowan would joke saying that she would smell beaches like a bloodhound. Aelin stopped when the beach finally appeared in front of her. It was not Luskentyre but the water was still crystal blue and the sand white. “This is Camusdarach beach.” Aelin toed off her shoes and started walking to the water. Rowan picked up the shoes and followed her. By the time he got there, she was already in the water, waves gently brushing her ankles. “Come on, this is beautiful.” Rowan smiled and toed off his shoes as well, dropped his backpack on the sand and joined her in the water, right behind her with his arms folding on her bump. His smell of pine engulfed her and Aelin leaned against his chest “I am glad Elide and Lorcan are getting married and invited us, it gave us a lovely excuse for this amazing trip.” Hand in hand they walked the length of the beach and eventually Rowan dragged her back on the sand and they sat down enjoying the sun. Aelin started playing with the sand and began building a sand castle and Rowan joined her a bit later. “Aelin’s castle.” After her castle was finished, Rowan pulled her down on the sand and he rolled to the side, facing her “thank you for not giving up on me.” “You were a bit of a hopeless case,” she added, flicking his nose “but being cute saved you.” “Just cute?” He pouted. “Fine, as Lys would say, you are sex on two legs.” “Poor Aedion.” “Ach, she just looks. She loves him.” His hand caressed her face “You can look as well, but remember that I exist. I can be jealous too.” Aelin snuggled closer and five minutes later she was snoozing and Rowan let her. They had a very early start and he wanted her to relax as much as she could. He rolled back on his back but then sat up and kept playing with the sand castle she had built. When she woke up it was an hour later. “Hello, sleeping beauty.” “Did I just fell asleep on the sand?” He leaned forward to kiss her “that you did.” “And you let me?” “Yes.” Aelin fought to stand but failed miserably so Rowan helped her. “We can’t waste too much time dillydallying. We need to hit the road again.” She tried to bend over to grab her shoes but she had no such luck. Rowan stood and patted the sand away from her and squeezed her ass in the meantime. “Aye, aye captain.” He said picking up her shoes and patting the sand away from him as well. Ten minutes later they were back on the road and Aelin was happily sipping on her smoothie. “This road we are on is called the road to the isle because it’s the road that connects Fort William to Mallaig where you can get the ferry to the islands.” “Were you a Harry Potter fan?” He asked. “Not really. I have only seen the movies to keep company to Lysandra. Why?” “There is one place on our way that became quite famous in one of the movies.” “Oh, the viaduct?” She asked. Lysandra on the other hand, was obsessed with Harry Potter and they had watched the movies together. “Lys is a huge Harry Potter fan and since I haven’t read the books she convinced me to at least to watch the movie. She had told me the viaduct was in Scotland.” “We will pass Glenfinnan and if you want we can stop there.” “Yes, I need to take a picture for Lys.” They arrived at the site half an hour later and Rowan parked in a small car park and Aelin could see the viaduct in the distance. “There is a visitor centre and you can get your magnet there.” He joked and they started the walk to the viaduct and Aelin took a lot of photos and started sending them to Lys via WhatsApp. “Were you a Harry Potter fan?” She took his hand. Rowan shook his head “I read the books just to see what all the fuss was about but I never got into them. Not my kind of thing.” “You could be a Slytherin.” Added Aelin looking at him with a wicked smile. Rowan looked away for a moment “Lyria made me took a test. She was into the books. I was sorted in Slytherin.” Aelin lifted the hands they were holding to his mouth and kissed his “Let me guess, the bitch was a Gryffindor.” Rowan laughed “that she was.” “As if I needed another reason to hate her.” Rowan squeezed her hand “you don’t like them?” “I hate them. And I hate Potter. He is the most annoying, most useless and most boring character ever written.” She confessed “Lys made me take the test and I am a Slytherin too, Lys is a Ravenclaw and Aedion is alas, a Gryffindor.” “Poor Lys.” They finally arrived under the viaduct and Aelin took a picture of her holding the pylons of the viaduct. “This is quite impressive. Do train actually run on it?” Rowan nodded “The regular Scotrail trains from Glasgow to Mallaig come through here but from Fort William there is also the Jacobite steam train, which by the way was used in Harry Potter 2, and it’s a very fancy train that runs twice a day.” “That must be one heck of a gorgeous train ride.” “It is, I have done it a few times, the regular train, I mean. Probably one of the most stunning we have in Scotland.” He started walking back and took her hand again. “Lys is saying that she is so jealous right now and told me that I am lucky girls because my fiancé is not a Gryffindor.” “Come on Buzzard, I have a few tacky things to buy.” She pulled him toward the visitor centre. Slowly they got back to the car and Rowan drove the small distance back to the visitor centre. He parked there and Aelin went inside the shop and bought stuff for her and Lysandra and got back to him who was waiting for her outside. Together they walked to the monument standing in front of Loch Shiel and sat down at the table at the viewpoint “Remember the scene in the third Harry Potter movie when Harry flies on the big flying creature whose name I can’t remember?” Aelin nodded. “This is the loch in the scene.” He looked at her puzzled expression “I only know because I have a book in the shop about movie locations in Scotland and in the summer is quite popular with tourists and once I had a look through it out of curiosity.” “I need to read it next time I am in.” He sat down beside her and pulled her close “How are you feeling? Are you tired?” “Are you joking? This is amazing. I will sleep tonight. I have a feeling I will be out as soon as I hit the bed but for now I am fine. Really, Ro.” He grabbed his backpack and opened it “Are you hungry?” She nodded and Rowan offered her another sandwich and Aelin munched away while taking in the incredible view in front of her. “Did Elide tell you where they are getting married?” Aelin nodded “The cloisters at Glasgow University. I have no idea what it is, but I assume you know. But Elide told me that she loves that place so much and felt like it was a cool place where to get married. They don’t have a large numbers of people so we will fit.” Rowan had a large smile “It was and still is one of my favourite places around the University and once we are there you will know why. I will take you there tomorrow. Our accommodation is very close by to the university so got very lucky.” “She said that they are having the reception inside the centre hall at Kelvingrove art gallery.” Rowan laughed “they have amazing taste. That’s all I am saying right now.” “I googled some pictures and they are amazing sites.” Then she looked up to him “are you looking forward being back in Glasgow?” Rowan nodded “I love the islands but I have some great memories of the city.” Eventually Rowan stood “Let’s go. We still have a very long drive. I want to show you Glen Coe before we continue our drive south.” They got back in the car and on the road “sleep a bit, “said Rowan caressing her head “it will take us about an hour to reach Glen Coe.” Aelin blew him a kiss and did as was told and woke up only when Rowan nudged her awake. She opened her eyes and gasped at the beautiful view in front of her. “We are driving through Glen Coe.” “I am speechless.” “It’s quite incredible, I agree.” A few minutes later Rowan stopped the car and he got out and motioned for Aelin to follow him. They both sat on the hood of the car and he put an arm around her shoulder, “see this three ridges in front of us?” Aelin nodded. “They are called the three sisters of Glen Coe.” “That’s a cute name.” “Did they film anything in GlenCoe? It seems like such an mazing film locations,” she asked curious. “Tons of stuff, actually. Some more of the Harry Potter movies, some bits of Braveheart, one of the James Bond movies, Skyfall I think, and another one I remember is Monthy Python and the Holy Grail.” “I really need to read your book.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Rowan pushed her to go back into the car “Come on. We’ll have a last stop in Balloch and then from there we will do the last leg to Glasgow.” They got back in the car and Aelin was asleep again within minutes and he let her sleep. From time to time he brushed his hand on her bump but the twins seemed asleep as well. She woke up again much later “where are we?” She asked with a sleepy voice. “Near Tarbert, we are on Loch Lomond.” Aelin smiled “there is a song.” And she started fiddling with his mp3 player to find the song. A couple of minutes later she found it and pressed play and Rowan smiled fondly. He had created a monster in terms of music. Aelin started singing and he laughed. “You’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low road and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye. Where me and my true love will never meet again on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.” “You know this is a sad song, right?” “I know I read the meaning behind it but it’s so good. I love it so much.” Once in Balloch, Rowan took Aelin for a walk into Balloch castle country park but when he noticed her trailing behind slowly he called it a day and decided they were going back to the car and drive the last leg to Glasgow. She was getting tired and he felt as if he had pushed her enough although he was alway careful and walked always short distances. Aelin slept until Rowan woke her up announcing they were arrived at the hotel. “We are in Glasgow?” He kissed her “yes, we made it.” She gave him a big smile and slowly got out of the car, grabbed her backpack and followed him. Rowan unloaded the bags and they got inside the hotel and at the receptions. She let Rowan check them in. She was feeling tired and only wanted to take a shower and collapse in bed. Once in their bedroom Aelin sat on the bed and then lay down heavily under Rowan’s worried stare “are you sure you are okay?” “Yeah, a shower and a nap and I will be okay.” Rowan had a look in the bathroom “even better, you can take a relaxing bath and if you behave I might join you. I am pretty wiped as well.” At that statement Aelin stood and went to open the taps in the bathtub “no take backs.” Fifteen minutes later they were both in the tub, Rowan behind her and he was washing her hair and then her back “That’s not fair, I can only wash your legs.” Then she leaned back against him and he purred. “Will you manage to go out for dinner or shall we order in?” Aelin shook her head “I want to go out. Do we have to go very far?” “No, it’s a twenty minutes walk. Or we can walk five minutes and take the underground for one stop. There is a lovely area for food in Hillhead, the uni area. There is a wonderful Vietnamese restaurant that I adore and I haven’t been there in a lifetime. Or we can try something else. Whichever takes your fancy.” “Vietnamese sounds perfection. But can we do the half walk half underground option?” “I would drive but parking is a nightmare in that area.” She took his hands and placed them on her bump “half and half is perfect.” Rowan kissed her neck caressed her bump when he felt a kick. “I think we are getting close to the stage when they will be able to hear sounds. Their ears should be formed by now and they will hear muffled sounds from outside.” “I need to go back reading to them.” He asked tugging her even closer. “I’d love that. But only stories with badass females.” “Of course and I’ll make sure I will read them about their namesakes.” “Morrigan is going to hate us for her name as soon as she discovers where it comes from.” Rowan kissed her head “We can change it.” But Aelin shook her head in dissent “I adore it.” They cuddled in the bathtub a bit longer but when the water started to cool down Rowan ordered them to get out. Aelin, in her bathrobe collapsed in bed. It was still far too early to go out for dinner so they were going to chill out in bed. Rowan had driven all day and she was positive he was exhausted as well. He joined her in bed and snuggled against her “What are you doing?” Aelin took her phone “what’s the name of the restaurant?” “Hanoi bike shop.” “That’s a very random name.” Rowan chuckled “look at some photos and you will see why.” Aelin did that “oh wow. The place looks amazing. There are actually pieces of bikes hanging… and look at the lanterns.” “And their food is delicious.” “Let me see the menu.” She was too busy browsing her phone to notice that Rowan had fallen asleep in her arms. She set an alarm for half past six and cuddled against him and placed one of his hands on the bump, then kissed his head and slept a while as well.

She woke again five minutes before the alarm was meant to go off. Rowan was still fast asleep and she felt horrible at the idea of waking him up but her stomach was grumbling and she was getting hungry. She kissed him gently and brushed a hand through his hair and slowly he woke. “Hi you.” “Hey,” his voice still gruff “did I fall asleep?” “Like a baby” she kissed him “I didn’t want to wake you but I am starving.” Rowan laughed and rolled on his back. A second later he was off the bed and went to the suitcase to grab some clothes “Come on, let’s get you fed, then we can come back and relax.” Ten minutes later they were both ready and outside. Aelin had a look and in the distance she noticed a park. Rowan had told her they were near his uni. They walked for a bit along Sauchienall st. until in the distance she noticed some amazing buildings and pulled him to walk faster. Rowan stopped her and went back into guide mode. He went behind her and took her arm and pointed “that, is Glasgow university. And this amazing red building in front of us is Kelvingrove museum. Glasgow uni is the second oldest uni in Scotland dating to 1451 and the fourth oldest in the UK.” “I am jealous. I went to a modern uni. Yours looks amazing.” “We’ll have a proper look tomorrow, same for the museum.” They reached the underground and while they were waiting Rowan explained that it was a circular line and they only had the inner and outer circle. And that the only mistake you could make was to take the wrong one and having to go all the way around before reaching your destination. The whole concept puzzled her, behind used to the London tube and all. Once out of the subway the restaurant was at a minute walk and Aelin loved the place already. The restaurant was busy but they did manage to get a seat. Aelin would have killed if they told her that there was no space. She was now dead set on that restaurant and did not want to go somewhere else. She had already studied the menu in full. An hour later Aelin relaxed back satisfied. The meal had been wonderful and after her dessert she finally felt full “I think we can walk back to the hotel, I ate too much and I need to walk it off.” Rowan laughed “are you sure?” It took them forty minutes to walk back to the hotel. Aelin had decided to be brave and walk and she soon realised it had been a very bad idea. Rowan had tried to convince her to at least take the subway again but she had been stubborn. Rowan knew she was struggling but had given up when he suggested a taxi and he got a deadly glare from her. They were finally in front of the hotel and Rowan relaxed a bit. “Don’t.” She snapped. “What?” “You have a ‘I told you so face’ I know, I was stubborn and now I am paying for it. Now stop gloating.” He gave her his hand “Come on, Fireheart, I am curious to see which funny pj you have with you tonight.” Aelin took his hand and followed him to the lift. Once in the room, Aelin threw herself on the bed but Rowan grabbed her hands “get changed first.” Then he let her go and grabbed her suitcase and placed it on the bed “come on, jammies on and then bed.” “Can we cuddle? Perhaps with a back massage.” “That can be arranged, but I need you in your jammies to do that.” Aelin dragged herself up and grabbed her night clothes from her bag and got changed and Rowan did the same and both get ready for bed. Rowan was the first one under the blankets and once she joined him he pulled her to him, her belly facing him. His hands went to her back and started rubbing the sore spots. Aelin melted in his arms. “Thank you for today,” she mumbled against his chest, snuggling against him a bit more. She felt a kiss on her head and then laughed when he felt a kick “I think our girls had a great time as well.” “They did, but now they are exhausted like mum.” Rowan pulled her down to an horizontal position “Turn around,” he said to her when he noticed she was not on her left side. “But I want to face you.” “You know the left side is the recommended position. Turn around.” He helped her and once she was settled he climbed over and lay down in front of her “Sorted.” “You are such a mama hen.” She joked, running her hand through his hair. “Your hair getting longer.” “I was thinking about letting it grow. What do you think?” Aelin kissed him “very naughty thoughts right now.” Rowan laughed “I used to have them to my shoulder when I was t uni. Not practical for swimming but I loved it.” “I can braid it.” She smiled “Please let it grow back.” He leaned forward and gave her a kiss back “As you wish, my Queen.” Then he took her hand and placed it on his heart “Now sleep, please.” He told her gently, closing her eyes with her fingers. Then his arm reached out over her and pulled her as close as possible. “Goodnight,” he whispered to his favourite women.

Tag: @rowaelinismyotp

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #fanfic #Throne of Glass series #fluff

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

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Hello! Can I request a headcanon where the queen of hearts (1951), Maleficent, Cruella, Shang yu and Yzma (separated) take care of a lost (orphaned) little girl (like 5-6) and adopted her as their own. Thank!

These were sooooo fun to think of, omg XD I feel all warm inside, thanks for the request! I hope you like it as much as I do ^^

~~~

Cruella DeVille (You can imagine either animated, OUAT or live action Cruella, but I liked this gif ^^):

· Cruella, is more of a… fun, rich aunt. You know, when you can post the child back to its parents any time you like with a sugar high and new Xbox?

· But, as the capable entrepreneur and businesswoman that she is, she rises to the challenge of ‘parenting’, when the stinky orphaned girl living on the streets (You, obviously) show potential in the fashion industry.

· She takes you right to the adoption agency, picks you up and plops you on the counter like a pair of shoes and asks how much you cost. You just smile sweetly, like the most adorable munchkin ever despite the off way your new caregiver handles you, and the agent has some reservations, of course, but Cruella’s able to speed up the adoption process with her connections and her money.

· Your relationship at first is similar to Oswald Cobblepot and Martin’s. And if you haven’t watched Gotham, I’ll explain; Sort of distant, but the adult is trying at least. They’re just not used to having a pre-teen around. And, somehow, they’re making the child feel more understood and taken care of then anyone else ever has, despite both parties’ reservations.

· Slowly you bond (Over fashion, obviously) and Cruella turns into, honestly, a pretty good mum (For a villain who wants to kidnap puppies from her friend and make a coat for herself out of them, anyway). She learns to not gag when your shows are on the telly, she takes more time off work to take care of you and turn up to your school things (Like parent-teacher interviews, concerts, art exhibitions, and assemblies if you’re going to get an award- she even makes artful collages out of your work on the fridge), and you two even learn how to cook some easy dinners together.

· (Cruella can cook, I think, but I can imagine they’re more fancy stuff that a kid really isn’t interested in)

· You’re a two-person team kind of family.

· She doesn’t like you to be around Jasper and Horace because their stupidity and lack of fashion sense could be contagious.

· For the longest time, you just call her Cruella… until one day she says she loves you (Which is visibly difficult for her. Not because the words aren’t true, but because she’s not sentimental) and you finally call her ‘Mum’.

Maleficent:

· You start following her around, lost and having decide the scary green lady with a cute bird pet is the one to go to for help. She tries to scare you off, but of course you’re already scared anyway! But not of her- of being left alone.

· So you keep following her through the forest, until you reach her castle and Diablo has become attached to you and is sitting on your shoulder instead of hers, nuzzling your little face.

· She leaves out some food for you for dinner and lays a clean blanket down on an abandoned bed in a random room down a dark hallway. It’s a spooky night, in that creepy castle… but the blanket smells like grass and you find that if you close your eyes and smoosh your face into it, you don’t think about the things that could be hidden in the dark. Also, Diablo comes in and keeps you company.

· Mal is sure that you’ll be gone the next day. That’s why she was so kind. She was sure you were just a determined straggler and if she offered you a home for a night, then you would be the fickle little child that you are leave without so much as a thank you the next day.

· But you don’t leave.

· And you do say thank you, and even make her a mud pie outside the castle.

· She gives you a bit of a smile (Not soft, because Mal is still an evil fairy, but it’s a refreshing look on a face that had been pinched the whole time), resigning to you. You’re all alone like her. Maybe it won’t hurt so much to let you stay.

· Okay, as a parent, Mal isn’t so bad. She settles into the pace easier than Cruella or Yzma, at least, and her lifestyle allows for a far stabler childhood for you then Shan Yu’s. Plus, she’s outwardly very calm, which is a huge improvement from if you were living under the Red Queens roof.

· Distracts you with magic when she’s busy or just when she wants to watch the awe in your face as you watch sparkles dance around the room like real life stars.

· Keeps you away from all her villainy- you don’t need to be messed up in all that. Basically no one except her crow knows you exist and she’d like to keep it that way.

Shan Yu:

· Shan Yu finds you after he pillages your village (And you’re the only survivor) and you followed along behind his men for a while until they noticed you. Which didn’t take long, of course, they’re a group of highly skilled Huns in the ways of hunting and warfare.

· He uses his noggin (A very good noggin. Much cleverness) and identifies the favourable factors to having a little girl with them. You’re unassuming, for one, and can be trained (And moulded) to be used as a diversion for them in the kind of situations in which brute force do not apply and wouldn’t be helpful.

· He also acknowledges the need to train the next generation into their image to continue the Huns control over China even after he passes away. So, off on the quest to take over China you go, with them.

· He is so big, that you can perch on his wide shoulder and he’ll be fine still marching along.

· He gets a bit soft when interacting with you. At least, he certainly doesn’t treat you like an adult because you of course aren’t one. He encourages your childish wonder and your playing around. He’ll even play eye spy with you as you travel, or play a little tug of war if you get a piece of fabric or rope (Yes, like a puppy) and he’s just sitting down chilling somewhere on a rest break or at camp, pretending that the game is actually a contest until he smirks and tugs just a tiny bit harder and you fall forward onto your face XD (He only uses one hand the entire time)

· He’s a really chill dad, really, despite the whole… killing everyone in your village… First impressions, amiright? XD

· The rest of his men either hate you with every fibre of their huge beings or love you even more, and that’s the tea. One of them once rolled you up in a blanket and strapped you to a horse so you would stop annoying them by running around in front of the mules. You decide whether this was one who hated you or loved you. (Another came along and put a roll of bread in your mouth so you could eat, but didn’t release you)

· You’ve also been tied (Safely and comfortably, yes but still tied with your feet off the ground) to a tree as a time out and dropped in lakes (Once they knew you could swim) to calm your shit when you got hyper.

· You sleep in Shan Yu’s tent until you’re like 14 and declares that you’re able to defend yourself and can kill a man, so he can keep you safe.

Queen of Hearts:

· Goodness, who let this woman adopt? (Well, I mean, no-one could stop her) Even Hades would be better, and he tried to have a baby assassinated.

· This woman would be unintentionally manipulative towards this child (Like Norma and Norman Bates. Jesus christ). Whenever the kid doesn’t do anything that she wants them to, she’ll get p i s s e d, and that might legitimately mess with the kids psyche. She won’t behead the lil girl, of course, which I guess is bit of a saving grace (she isn’t that cruel) here? But it’s definitely a good thing the gentle King of Hearts is around, to settle the flames and calm down his wife and new daughter when games go awry.

· (And ya’ll play lots of games. Some of the time, living with her and her husband as your parental figures is a dream for a little girl like you)

· She does try her very hardest to be kind and not to lose her temper, and it is made so much easier by the fact that you’re an innocent little girl (Younger than Alice was), and she’s very fond of you. So, in a way, adopting you is helping her with her issues, and by extension, helping the rest of Wonderland.

· You get a big fancy throne-like highchair at the royal dinner table.

· Your little family is a bit or very messy, but you are never not loved. You always know that you’re loved.

Yzma:

· When Yzma takes you in, its because Kronk discovered your little form sleeping in an alleyway and ran with you in his hands back to her, and BEGGED her. This sweetheart (Kronk, not Yzma) could not handle the knowledge that a little baby girl was abandoned and all alone on the streets. And Yzma’s the most well-off, influential person he knows! Of course he’s going to go to her for help.

· When she finally gives in, its because you called her pretty. She’s just like… pause… “Seems like an intelligent enough… eugh… child... Kronk come! We have to disinfect it.”

· Kronk rushes after Yzma, still holding you and clarifies for you: “She means a bath.”

· So, now, you have your protective, psycho, affection-challenged mother and your sweet, dumb, beloved… uncle. Yeah, uncle. We’ll go with uncle.

· Yzma takes a while to get used to you, and she’s very defiant against getting called ‘Mum’ or ‘Mother’ (Mama or Mummy have a more youthful feel, according to Yzma.), but she’s pretty immature due to her psychosis so she tends to blend well with your child personality.

· You laugh so much, with her. Most of the things she says are hilarious, especially when she’s exasperated and mutters about Kronk.

· She doesn’t want you to grow up without a brain like him (Or to mix with other children- she will not be dealing with chicken pox or nits. If you did get either of those things, she would be living in a full-on hazmat suit and spray everything you touch, and you. Kronk would end up getting the sickness because he gives you lots of hugs and takes care of you while you’re sick or you have the nits) so she gets you a home school teacher.

· On your birthday (They do the day Kronk found you if you don’t know it), Kronk wakes Yzma up at the buttcrack of dawn drags her along to set up the day for you. Including a treasure hunt, where its clear that Yzma wrote the clues because its very translucent through the sentences she wrote that she didn’t have coffee before writing them. Very bitter.

· She does want to make you happy though and buys you literally the best present for a child of that time. I don’t know what it is, but it’s the equivalent for them of a little car or coloured TV (Like the Barbie or Hot Wheel ones) for us. She’s so smug about it, too, like ‘Shove that up your 4 layer cake with different flavours, Kronk.’.

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burnsopale · 3 years

Text

So back in August I ensconced myself in a cabin on a mountain to do some writing, and I decided to do a take on the classic “Volkov returns from prison”-scenario.

I got five chapters and 35 000 words in and I will never ever finish it because I have no dicipline. So I figured I could at least share some of the readable bits with you.

Working title: Ashen Characters in this clip: BBA, Russian boys, PPB, mention of the Euro-team Setting: 7 years after season one, Russia, a beyblade park in the evening Summary: Volkov has escaped from prison, attacked PPB headquarters and taken back Black Dranzer. The Russian boys have been living with the PPB, and were used and hurt in the attack. Yuriy left with Volkov for unknown reasons. Daitenji Kogoro has gathered the troops and sent them to Russia to find out what Volkov is up to. Meanwhile, Kai’s grandfather is on his deathbed, and Kai is struggling to deal with it.

The crowd swelled, until there was no way that Takao was going to get any kind of private conversation with his friends. He gave up on the notion for the present, and threw himself into matches. He played the kids who wanted to, holding back as much as he could and leaving Seiryuu simmering in the blade, but eventually they called for a match between Takao and Kai.

Takao loved blading against Kai; somehow, he could never do less than his best against Dranzer, but when Kai now took his place on the other side of the small, grounded dish, something felt off to Takao. Kai looked dull, like he was going to the dentist and just had to get it over with. He fitted Dranzer into the shooter with a look like he was miles away.

“Hey,” Takao said, having to raise his voice a little to get past the crowd. “Are you there?”

Kai looked up, a little surprised. “What sort of trash talk is that? Are you there?”

“Just checking. I’ll be in your care.”

“You’ll be under my heel,” Kai said darkly, and now Takao knew something was wrong, but a beybattle had always been Takao’s way to get through to people, so he just bent his knees and raised Dragoon in front of him.

“Tri, dva, odin! Idi strelyay!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Takao saw Emily startle, but he’d have to wonder about that some other time because Seiryuu would not be contained any longer and came out roaring.

Dranzer took Dragoon’s attack head on. Seiryuu bent over it like he was confused as to why Suzaku wasn’t joining him. For the longest moment, Kai just stood there, while Takao watched in disbelief.

Then, as if he was lifting a great weight, Kai breathed in and cried, “Suzaku!”

Even the vermillion bird herself didn’t so much soar out of the bit chip as climb laboriously out. Seiryuu hissed, offended by this poor showing, and the battle was over in less than a minute.

Kai picked up Dranzer and went to stand next to Boris and Kyouju without even commenting on the results. The audience was, thankfully, satisfied, but Takao was not.

He played Eddie and got a much better match out of him; Trypio was one of those tricky blades that you needed strategy and forward thinking to beat.

Afterwards he got a chance to say two words to Emily about Kai.

“He is going through a tough time,” she said.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t usually let it hurt his blading.”

“He can’t still be grumpy about the finals?” she wondered.

Takao shook his head. “Nah, he agreed Ralf deserved that one.”

Emily nodded, biting her lip in pleasure as she thought back. “Ralf was incredible. It was a team win, but he had the best individual result. The data output was like a laden buffet table.”

“Ooh, buffet! ... Did he lose at all?” Takao didn’t think he had, but he hadn’t been able to catch every battle.

“Hmm. Rai came close; lightning is good against such massive holy beasts, and it was close for Kai too of course, but no one can quite top the sheer mastery Ralf has over Griffolyon.”

“It’s not mastery; it’s teamwork,” Takao insisted, frowning.

“Call it synergy, then,” she said, shrugging. “Ralf knows his business, that’s all I’m saying. They all do, those European bladers.” She chuckled. “You know, Ivan calls them Earthquaker, Wingshaker and Heartbreaker, from back before he learned their names.”

Takao matched the nicknames to their right bladers in his head. “... What does he call Johnny?”

“The hedgehog.”

“What about you?” he asked, nodding to the dish where Max was getting ready to battle Steve. “Are you going to play?”

She shook her head, a look of pain crossing her sharp features. “Trygator is ... missing. He was taken in the attack. Volkov has it.”

For a moment, Takao found nothing to say. Inside he was boiling. “We’ll get him back, Emily,” he vowed, clenching his fist. “I swear it.”

She smiled a dangerous smile, not unlike a crocodile’s. “Yes, we will.”

Eventually the group detangled themselves from the crowd and began to journey home. The world was growing dark, but the sky was still pale above. Long stretched of road lay without light, which came in handy when they had to escape from a few fans who apparently wanted to know where they were staying.

They stopped on the lawn outside the hotel where Emily and company were staying, and Takao finally got to ask his question.

“What happened?”

The others looked at each other, except Boris who looked down, and Kai, who now said a brief goodnight, reminded them where to meet in the morning, and walked away. Max made a soft sound, but didn’t try to stop him. Kyouju seemed torn between not wanting to pry and dying to know.

Emily made it easier by briefly telling them of her encounter with Peter Trotty. “Turns out his real name is Trotsky. He’s one of three Borg spies that have been undercover in the PPB for years. Or rather, one of the three we’ve found so far.”

“What did he mean by that thing he said? Baba who?”

The Russian boys shifted their feet. Sergei’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl.

Kyouju could, as usual, not help doing a bit of teaching. “Baba Yaga is the name of a witch in Russian fairy tales. She is an old woman who rides through the woods on a mortar, and lives in a house that stands on four chicken legs.”

“Chicken legs?” Max echoed doubtfully.

“She is sometimes an enemy, but can also help the hero or heroine, if they do the tasks she sets them.”

“In this case,” Sergei said, “she is a real woman. She was in the abbey. She trained us, Ivan and me, and sometimes Yuriy.”

“Don’t ask about her,” Ivan said, putting his hands over his ears. “I hear the creaking in my head all the time. I thought I was rid of it. I thought it was over!”

“She is dead,” Sergei said with conviction. It sounded like something he needed to believe. “She was old when I came to the abbey; she must be dead. But they had her voice on a tape recorder and ... it’s hard to disobey.”

“Fuck her!” Ivan exclaimed, and then grew suddenly pale as if he had said something dangerous. “No more,” he said, more lowly. “She’s a fairy tale now. Only fit for scaring children.”

For a while they stood in silence, and then Kyouju asked the other question, the one that had been hanging over them all day. “Why did Yuriy go?”

“Because he’s an idiot!” Boris said, holding up clawed hands like he would like to wrap them around Yuriy’s throat. He turned away and roared behind his teeth up at the darkening sky. “He’s a stupid mudak! Fuck!” He kicked a turf of grass so dirt sprayed up. “Fuck, fuck fuck!”

They watched him stomp repeatedly on the uprooted bit of turf, and then move on to a flower that was unlucky enough to stand nearby.

“What Borya said,” Sergei agreed.

“But we’re to blame too,” Eddie added, pulling his jeans jacket around himself like he was cold. “We thought we were doing a good job making them feel at home.”

“We thought Michael was taking care of Yuriy,” Steve said, stern with himself. “But Michael and Yuriy are nothing alike. It didn’t work out.”

“And we didn’t notice,” Eddie finished.

“Don’t talk like that,” Ivan hissed. “Like we were your homework!”

“But you were,” Emily said in her factual, merciless way. “At first. Then you became our friends. Now you are ours, whether you like it or not. You won’t rest until Yuriy is liberated, but neither will we. He’s coming back home with us.”

“We’re with you too,” Max said quickly.

Takao and Kyouju nodded determinedly.

“The first step is to figure out where Volkov is and what he is planning,” Kyouju said.

“And that means getting to bed, so we are ready for tomorrow,” Emily added. “Come on, boys. I promised Judy I’d tuck you all in by ... well not this hour, but she doesn’t need to know that.”

Takao, Max and Kyouju watched them go, Sergei grabbing Boris by the lapel and pulling him away from the flowers he was chewing up. Then they turned and headed for their own hotel and their beds.

“What do you think we’ll find tomorrow?” Max wondered.

“We’re going back to the abbey,” Takao answered. “We could find anything.” A feeling of foreboding was growing in his stomach.

Takao surprised everyone by being the first to get up that morning. He was too keyed up to sleep any longer. He was digging into his second round of breakfast when the others arrived, but politely stuck around to keep them company until they too were finished. It gave him time for round three anyway.

“You’d think I don’t feed you,” Dad said as he brought his plate to the table.

“You’d think Grandpa doesn’t feed you,” Takao retorted, looking at the mountain of food on his dad’s plate.

Kyouju sipped his tea, two slices of toast with honey lying neatly on a plate in front of him. “Like father like son, I suppose.”

“They snore like father and son too,” Max said, yawning as he took a seat between Kyouju and Kai.

Kai smiled. He had his own room.

Their friends arrived from the other hotel a little before ten o’clock, and at ten precisely, two large black cars came to a halt in front of the hotel doors. A huge man stepped out of the first car. He had bushy moustaches and bushy eyebrows, and a great big belly, and he wore shorts, sneakers and a yellow Hawaii shirt that looked deeply out of place in the middle of the city. He shook hands with Takao’s dad, and with Kai and Emily.

“Hello hello, everywan,” he said, sounding exactly as jolly as you’d expect, like a big Russian santa. “My name is Gregor Gregorovitsj. You can call me Gregor. I will be your guide today. I understand that some of you will be coming with me to look at the papers and other inventory that we cleared out of the abbey, while some others of you,” He looked to Takao’s dad. “Want to go see the abbey for yourself.”

He looked at them expectantly. Then his eyes alighted on Sergei, and travelled to Boris, and down to Ivan.

“Oh.” He said. He scratched his head. “... They didn’t tell me why you wanted to go there. Why would you want to?”

“You haven’t heard about Vladimir Volkov escaping from prison?” Emily asked.

Gregor looked surprised, and then a little embarrassed. “To be honest, nobody tells me anything. I am only archivist, but I speak English, so they sent me. I have never been guide before.” He frowned. “But if that man has escaped ... hmm ... that explains some things. I may not be told anything, but I do hear things.” He frowned a little more. Kai cleared his throat, startling him out of his thoughts. “But we should get going! Okay, those who want to go to abbey go in the first car; the driver knows way, and someone will meet you there to show you around. Everyone else, in second car with me.”

“Who is going where?” Takao wondered. “I’m coming with you, Dad.”

“As am I,” Kai said.

“And me.” Boris took a step away from his own group towards theirs. “You won’t find anything without one of us going with you.”

Kai turned to him. “Then it should be Ivan or Sergei.”

“No,” Boris said simply. “It will be me.”

Emily pushed her glasses up and surveyed her troops. “Sergei is taking point on the textual evidence, and Steve and I read enough Russian to aid him. Daitenji Kogoro mentioned a warehouse with inventory, so Eddie and Ivan are going there.”

Kai rolled his eyes in disgust. “And how do we know you won’t have another episode?” he asked Boris bluntly. “You think going back to that place won’t trigger any memories?”

Boris lifted his head stubbornly. “There will not be an episode. I am going.”

“You are not safe,” Kai growled.

“Stop it!” Takao placed himself between them, facing Kai. “If Boris says he will be fine, then he will be.”

“Why?” Kai sneered. “Because you believe in him?”

“Because I trust him,” Takao answered.

Dad put a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kai; we’ll be together the whole time. If anything should happen, we can handle it, but I think Boris knows best if he will be alright or not.”

Kai shrugged off the hand. “I agree,” he spat. “I just also think he would lie about it.”

Emily, Eddie and Steve were looking on in confusion and shock, while Ivan and Sergei’s faces were growing dark.

Boris said something in Russian that was clearly an offer to throw hands, and Kai turned back to him like he absolutely meant to take that offer and go through Takao if he had to, until Max suddenly stepped in front of Kai and drove him backwards.

“That’s enough, Kai!”

Takao exhaled in relief as he saw Kai’s attention snap to Max with the irresistible awareness that Max always commanded of him.

“This isn’t about Boris,” Max said, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward like he was at work and lecturing one of his kindergardeners. “It’s about you. If you don’t want to go to the abbey, then you don’t have to! But don’t take it out on Boris!”

Kai’s face got all red and pinched.

Max straightened up and exhaled. “Kai.” He shook his head. “I’ll come too, and like Kinomiya-san says, we’ll go together, and if you’re scared I can hold your hand and then it will be fine-”

“Just get in the car,” Kai said in a strangled voice and immediately followed his own advice.

“Guess I’m coming with you,” Max said, nodding to himself like he thought he had done a good job, and Takao thought so too.

Max had a way of diffusing – or confusing – Kai that sometimes came in handy.

Takao just wished they could get to the heart of the problem. This was not about the abbey, he didn’t think so, though it was about going together, and about being lonely even when you were surrounded by friends.

“Well,” Gregor said, swinging his hands back and forth by his sides. “That was awkward. Would you like to go now?”

Kyouju decided to go with Ivan and Eddie to the warehouse, and so the teams were agreed upon.

Takao didn’t know what Daitenji-san wanted them to find in that black stone labyrinth, but as they left the city centre and began to near the desolate edges where Volkov had picked up so many of Moscow’s orphaned and abandoned boys, his feeling of foreboding grew stronger. Something was waiting for them. Something they were not prepared for.

#Beyblade #Judin writes #Ashen #I wish I had dicipline #Anyway enjoy #KaiTakao #just a little bit

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