#he did not suffer through lax for him to not be recognized

[goetiae]

In the Green Witch arc, Sebastian presents a rather interesting book to Sieglinde when she requests to have something to read. The book is called The Family Physician, and it is in fact replicating a real medicinal work of the Victorian era.

The Family Physician: A Manual Of Domestic Medicine was published in London, England, by Cassell & Company in the year 1883. It is one of many books of this kind as at the time family manuals of medicine were becoming more and more popular. Of course, books were still rather expensive to print and were majorly available to the rich. As many were living in estates outside of the city centers and some traveled abroad, physicians were not always readily available. With that, more and more rich Victorians would rather have a book of medicinal remedies at home to "replace" a visit from a doctor.

The book Sebastian is showing in the arc is one of the later editions by the physicians of the London hospitals. The special edition Family Physician featured in the manga consists of four volumes and includes a diverse list of treatments for many types of illnesses.

Now, Yana does include two supposed remedies used in that book but only one of them is found on the pages: opium tincture. Laudanum was prescribed for various illnesses. As for the bacon, it is a real medical practice of the Victorian era but one recorded in The Successful Housekeeper (1888), not in this manual.

Sebastian has previously stated that he would get familiar with the medicinal treatment options of the time to assist Ciel with his health problems. We can safely assume that this handbook manual is used by him rather often to help young Lord during his various instances of sickness.

This book consists of multiple categories of illnesses that would take a long time to cover fully, but here are those that Ciel canonically either goes through or is likely to go through due to his known chronic condition (asthma):

Night Terrors

Asthma

Cold

Cough

Fever

The sort of treatment that Sebastian would put Ciel through, were he to truly follow the book, is bizarre.

Do not follow these instructions. They are highly outdated and do not follow any medical requirements. Herbs, plants, and chemicals mentioned in this post are highly toxic and should not be ingested or inhaled.

Night Terrors

Night terrors are recognized by Victorians as recurrent and relatively safe, as they are "rarely precursors of fits or epilepsy", though they may be hard to handle, especially in younger children.

In case that a Victorian child was suffering from nightmares, or night terrors as they equated the two, physicians recommended rhubarb and soda also known as Gregory's powder. Combined with a light and digestible meal, this mixture, which is currently regarded as a laxative, was to ensure that the sleep of the child is undisturbed through the night.

Asthma

During the Victorian era, asthma was not recognized as an obstructive disease of lungs, but rather as a neurological condition. Physicians of the time were seemingly very well-aware that asthma was a difficult and longterm condition even if they did not precisely understand its nature; sometimes referring to it as psychosomatic.

Within the treatments that Ciel would have realistically gotten were he, as a Victorian child, to have the kind of asthma attacks that he has had in the manga are:

I. Tobacco, which was believed to relieve paroxysms - sudden asthma attacks. The book Sebastian has provided us with says that tobacco would be especially beneficial for non-smokers who have not established tolerance to cigarettes, pipes, and cigars. Even though individuals who used this method would grow "pallid" and "damp with prespiration" after the process, their asthma attack would be "prevented". It is possible to assume that with the repeated, consistent smoking pattern Victorian asthmatics tried to balance out their breathing rhythm.

II. Lobelia inflata, also known as puke weed, is another type of tobacco recommended for asthma, though this time it is to be consumed by ingestion in a form of a tincture mixed with water. It was believed that this tobacco helped with asthma "related to indigestion". The book does state that its authors are unsure whether the plant is very effective as some patients have fallen sick after the use; which is no surprise to the modern reader as lobelia inflata has been discovered to be a toxic plant.

III. Stramonium, also known as thorn-apple, is a kind of medicine recommended by the Victorian physicians when smoking tobacco was not enough. The leaves of the plant, which is highly toxic due to multiple alkaloids within it, would be crushed and smoked. Smoking stramonium before sleep for prophylactic reasons or at the beginning of an asthma attack was generally considered an effective treatment that worked "like magic".

IV. Cigares de Joy, "anti-asthma" cigarettes created by a Frenchman, are highly regarded by the authors of the book. Like many other medicinal treatments of the Victorian era, they were, of course, bad for your health as they contained stramonium and arsenic.

V. Coffee is probably the only non-toxic method of treating asthma that Victorian doctors suggest. However, even with coffee one can't hope to have much satisfaction from the treatment: it is to be given very hot, black (pure cafe noir), without any milk, and on an empty stomach in small quantities. Bigger dosages are advised against while taking coffee with a meal is cosidered to be a cause of asthma attacks.

VI. Nitre-papers are, practically, papers with potassium nitrate. The papers were meant to be burned so the fumes fill the room. The chemical compound of nitre-papers is an irritant and causes damage to the lungs, though Victorian doctors describe multiple cases of children and adults alike "peacefully" falling asleep around ten minutes into the paper burning. The latter is probably no surprise as potassium nitrate fumes have an adverse effect on the human body, causing nausea and dizziness.

VII. Nitrite of amyl is one more nitric chemical compound that is recommended by the Victorian doctors to inhale in order to treat asthma. Now, this chemical is highly toxic in all forms and especially so in direct inhalation and ingestion; it can cause blindness, brain damage, lung scarring, and death.

VIII. Chloroform is yet another questionable way of managing asthma in the Victorian era. While the authors of the book can be given credit for mentioning that overdoing chloroform is never the aim, and even provide a story of a man who died doing so, they do still praise the method greatly. According to the manual, chloroform is to be applied in a few drops on a handkerchief one can press to the nose and inhale through. It is rather clear here that Victorians truly did see asthma as a disturbance within the nervous system and provided methods of sedating the patient.

IX. Ipecacuanha, an imported plant native to Brazil, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Panama, and Colombia, is a remedy that the authors seem rather perplexed about. They do recommend it as an effective method of asthma treatment but they do not specify how it is to be applied. We are left wondering how exactly Victorians used this plant. Ipecacuanha, or ipecac as it is known within the medical field now, is highly toxic in all its forms and is especially dangerous to ingest. Brain damage and organ failure are only some side effects of ignoring safety precautions.

X. Potassium iodide is a medication recommended for ingesting directly in the amount of two tablespoons three times a day. Praised for postponing or even fully stopping asthma attacks, this medicinal treatment was highly regarded by the Victorian doctors. It is worth mentioning that potassium iodide has adverse side effects and is an allergen for many people. However, it is a recognized medical supplement that should be taken only, if ever, upon doctor's prescription.

Cold

Victorians recognized that cold was a rather complicated condition as it could either be a simple cold of a precursor to other, more serious, diseases: bronchitis, pneumonia, quinsy, consumption (tuberculosis), pleurisy, rheumatism, neuralgia, and more.

Doctors seemed to believe that the main cause of a common cold was dampness rather than anything else: a damp bed, a damp seat, a damp house or room, a damp robe, and more. Bathing for a prolonged amount of time was discouraged as it "caused colds".

The physiological nature of a cold was that it was seen as an inflammation of a mucuous membrane within the air-passages.

Victorians recommended that one who has caught a cold should stay quiet and not talk much, not eat too much food though drink plenty of water. The most jarring thing is, they recommend - within the book in Sebastian's possession - that colds are to be immediately treated with an aconite tincture. Needless to say, aconite is toxic in all forms and causes nausea and dizziness, vomiting, heart and lung problems, as well as death.

Out of safery reasons, we will abstain from providing any sort of recipes here. Aside from aconite, or when aconite was simply not enough, Victorian doctors suggest the following remedies:

Camphor

Phosphorus

Belladonna

Bryony

Nux vomica

Ipecacuanha

Bismuth

Arsenic

All of these ingredients are highly toxic and their effect on the human body greatly varies. Regardless, these should not be taken in absolutely any form.

Cough

Victorians recognize multiple varieties of a cough and state that there's no universal panacea for all of them. Still, they do recommend a few home remedies that are mixtures made of rather unusual components.

One suggests mixing a Paregoric elixir, which is a highly toxic substance containing deadly hydrogen cyanide, with oxymel, cascarilla, and chloric ether. Another proposes a method to treat dry cough: mixing morphia, hydrogen cyanide, and chloric ether together before ingestion.

Other cold treatments include:

Aconite [☠]

Alum [☠]

Asafoetida [!]

Belladonna [☠]

Chamomile oil

Chloroform [☠]

Coltsfoot [!]

Drosera

Gelsemium [!]

Ipecacuanha [☠]

Nitric acid [☠]

Sulphur [!]

Tartar emetic [☠]

☠ - toxic, deadly! - unsafe, may cause health problems for some people

Fever

The last condition that we can see Ciel canonically go through is a fever, which he seems to catch during the events of the Book of Circus arc. Now, treatment of a simple fever in Victorian times was rather unique as the doctors suggested using aconite or belladonna tincture to reduce the fever.

If it happened so that a patient's fever has not gone down after a long while, arsenic mixture is used. If nothing else helped and the fever is accompanied by shooting pain, highly toxic bryony is applied.

Thankfully, during the cases of remittent fever lasting for many days none of these mixtures were applied. Instead, the patient would be given ice to suck, cold water to drink, or some lemonade. Vomiting was to be calmed down with application of chloroform or ipecacuanha. Quinine, which has many dangerous side effects, would also be given. The most the patient would get aside from such dangerous medicine is nutritious meals and a lot of water.

Overall, it seems like using The Family Physician for treatment of many conditions that boys like Ciel would go through in real life Britain would cause more disadvantages than benefits for the patient. Over-reliance on toxic stimulants and deadly chemical substances could not possibly be good for anyone whose health was compromised.

Edits of the manga pages are made by us. Please, do not use them.

#༺♚༻ 𝕬nima e 𝕮uore ༺♞༻ #༺☤༻ 𝕸𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔞 ༺☤༻ #black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #sieglinde sullivan #victorian era #victorian history #medical history #historyblr

[lxffy]

Hi! This might be too specific but can I request Kid seeking reader out on an island or something because reader has a really huge bounty so he thinks they're super strong, and it turns out reader got their bounty from the most ridiculous thing ever and isn't actually all that strong?? Like, kicking a few marines in the balls or sneaking into a marine base to clog up all their toilets so it'd be unusable or something

❦ unprecedented reality ?!

pairing: kidd x gn!reader

note: fluff, crack, cussing, not proofread; was looking through florida man headlines for ideas and came up with something

your wanted poster was plastered on every flat surface there was on the island the kidd pirates just made landfall on. you, in the other hand, just barely escaped the hundreds of marines that were after you by stealing a small manageable boat and sailed your way out.

— the wanted poster

there was a major marine base near the island kidd and his crew landed on, but they needed to restock their supplies has soon as possible and had no choice but to stop at the nearest island. it was supposed to be quick, but when kidd saw 155,000,000 berries on the bottom of a wanted poster out the corner of his eye, there was no way he could turn a blind eye.

for a bounty so high, kidd was confused as to why he hadn’t heard your name before. he should’ve heard your name being broadcasted at least a couple of times before the price on your head soared. you must’ve been new, strong, and had done something heinous.

“killer, we have got to find this fiend.”

there was no way he was going to let this chance pass by— the chance of recruiting a strong crew member. it wasn’t long before killer got hold of information that you’ve only recently left the island and it was possible that you were hiding out somewhere nearby.

— unexpected outcome ?!

there were multiple islands to choose from, but something in kidd’s guts told him to go to an island in the opposite direction of the marines that may be following you. he knew he was right when he noticed a small boat on the shore of the quiet island that was recently deserted.

it made him question you a bit; we’re really able to shake off those marines that easily or did you have some kind of twisted luck? although the marines were fooled, he found your boat sitting on the shore with footsteps to follow. it was like you weren’t even trying to hide your location! or were you just that confident in your abilities that you didn’t care who followed?

the latter kept his hopes up, so he chose that one.

but was quickly proven wrong when you saw you falling from a tree trying to pick some bananas off a branch.

“you’re fucking kidding, right?”

“are you really y/n/n?”

embarrassed, you quickly stood up from the ground and it didn’t take you long to recognize the two pirates in front of you. there was no way kidd and killer were going to turn you in, right? or maybe there were here to kill you, or maybe even—

by the looks of it, you didn’t look strong whatsoever. you had no weapons near you and looked completely unguarded when they approached. never judge a book by it’s cover, yes, but there was no way you were actually strong enough to get a bounty that high… right?

“yes, i’m y/n/n…”

you were immediately bombarded with questions, the most common one being:

“how’d your bounty get so high?”

“have you ever accidentally dumped a shit ton of the worlds hottest hot sauce and laxatives into a marine based kitchen upon their next meal and heard them suffer throughout the night?”

kidd looked at you absolutely flabbergasted. he couldn’t even begin to imagine how horrendous that would feel. and then he heard that it wasn’t the first time you’ve “accidentally” hundreds, if not thousands of marine soldiers.

you confessed that you didn’t know where to go from here and kidd honestly thought it was none of his business, but he didn’t feel right knowing that you could get an extremely terrible punishment for something so trivial (not)

the way you got your bounty was crazy enough, and he couldn’t tell if you’re joking when you said it was an “accident” or if you wanted to be a menace to society. either way, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t the tiniest bit interested in learning about who you are…

🏷: @underscar + @thatsprettycoolbro + @blackweebtrash + @levistiddies

join my taglist here !

#kidd x reader #eustass kidd x reader #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass captain kid x reader #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece crack #one piece fluff

[autolovecraft]

Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch.

It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily? The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. The tower at length finished, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. God, what a rage! On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. This arrangement could be ascended with a minimum of awkwardness, and would furnish the desired height.

For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things.

The skull turned my stomach, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you always did go too damned far!

Armington helped Birch to the outside of a spare bed and sent his little son Edwin for Dr. Davis. Perhaps he screamed. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner.

Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. Clutching the edges of the aperture. Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. Being without superstition, he did not care to imagine. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the rejected specimen, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. Only the coffins themselves remained as potential stepping-stones, and as he considered these he speculated on the best mode of transporting them. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform.

His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about.

I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. Why did you do it, Birch? I suppose one should start in the cold December of 1880, when the ground froze and the cemetery delvers found they could dig no more graves till spring. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. Perhaps he screamed. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not heed the day at all; so that he was wise in so doing.

On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. Birch decided that he would begin the next day with little old Matthew Fenner, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th. Clutching the edges of the aperture. For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. This arrangement could be ascended with a minimum of awkwardness, and would furnish the desired height. Birch. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate. Perhaps he screamed. I saw the scars—ancient and whitened as they then were—I agreed that he was wise in so doing. Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not an evil man.

[juniorgman187]

Malchance (Reid Fic) - Part 2

Summary: The only thing reader can count on is her bad luck and what it’ll get her into. In this case, it’s the lioness’ den - the lioness being Cat Adams.

Category: Angst, Fluffy Ending Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Canon-consistent trauma, brief mention of daddy issues, blood, manipulation, yelling, deceit (Let me know if I missed anything) Playlist: Call Out My Name by The Weeknd Word Count: 5k

READ PART 1 HERE!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

“There’s going to be a key to cracking Cat,” Ms. Prentiss explained to me. 

“A key?” 

“You’ll know it when you find it.” 

That was probably the most ambiguous advice I could’ve gotten, but it’s the one she sent me into the field with and the one that loomed in the back of my head as everything unfolded.

The plan the team and I agreed upon, which ironically Dr. Reid knew no part of, was that after Cat and him went to the rink, they’d come back to his apartment, where I would be waiting. Posing as his concerned girlfriend, the unexpected presence of competition would enrage Cat. With the wrath of a woman scorned, she’ll be furious enough to slip up and make a mistake. 

I’ve heard that she’s done her best, or arguably her worst, when she’s prepared, so this curveball might just put an end to the reign of Queen Cat. 

As far as the outlined plan of events went, sure, it was simple. As for me? 

No shot in hell that I’d be able to pull this off.

There was seemingly no feasible reality where I could outsmart her until she made a mistake or keep on the facade long enough to deceive her. The entire success of the plan hinged on my abilities or her lack of propriety. Not exactly betting odds, if you ask me. 

And yet, against everything, I was still walking into the lion’s den on my own volition, making myself right at home, acting like this was exactly where I belonged. When in reality, this was the last place I should’ve been.

“You got this, okay?” Someone in my earpiece chirped. Just out of paranoia, I pressed the device further in, un-tucking the strands of hair behind my ear to better conceal it. Even that wasn’t enough to lower the specter of my doubt. I prayed that she was lax in her vetting tonight.

“Spencie!” A giggly shriek from outside the door sent one large shock wave through my entire body. It was so sharp like they were right there. The sound of heavy footsteps followed, and my stomach churned in anticipation. I already hated this.

How did I even get here? 

Oh, right - malchance. 

I contemplated cracking my knuckles to self-soothe, but then I remembered what Ms. Prentiss told me about ‘tells.’

“Bodily tells are how people can read the emotions you’re not directly expressing. A majority of what profilers use to study behavior is your body language. Unfortunately, some of the best profilers are the unsubs themselves. She’ll know what you’re feeling if you show her. So stay strong.”

Stay strong. 

Try as I might, I couldn’t keep the fear from washing over me when the pair of muffled voices outside became clearer as they entered the apartment. 

I must’ve caught them in the middle of something, but I couldn’t exactly deduce what, seeing as they stopped when they saw me, which was before I turned around.

Dr. Reid was floored by my being there, but at least, he had a look of recognition. It wasn’t enough that he merely distinguished me to settle the worry I had about the fact that the BAU hadn’t told him I would be here. If I could, I would have, but they each advised against it. They needed his raw reaction just as much as they needed her’s. 

One ghastly look up and down and I could tell she came to the exact conclusion the team anticipated she would - that I’m her new competition. 

“Spencie - who is this?” 

Her dehumanization of me made Dr. Reid viscerally guilty for having extended an opportunity to let yet another person suffer the corollaries of her cruelty. He shook his head softly at me as though to say, ‘I’m sorry.’ An interesting choice - that that was what he chose to nonverbally say to me first. He didn’t even ask me with his eyes why I was here or what I was doing - he just apologized. 

What has this poor man been through?

“I’m his girlfriend,” I answered for him before the silence could get suspiciously long. By inserting myself in the conversation, I was following what the BAU suggested I should do earlier. Stand your ground. You can’t be afraid to speak up to her. “I’m (y/n). You are?”

I held out my hand for a handshake that was never returned. Instead, all I got back was an ice cold stare. 

She’s reading your body language, an inner voice I didn’t even recognize called from within me. Soon after I realized it wasn’t my conscience speaking - it was Ms. Prentiss. I’d forgotten I had an earpiece, much less that there were micro cameras littered all over the apartment so they could have a firsthand view of this train wreck. How could anyone voluntarily watch this mess unravel? 

“And when did this happen?” Her voice went up an octave as she tilted her head with morbid curiosity, then let it roll back in Dr. Reid’s direction. “Spencer?”

“Five months ago,” he replied without missing a beat, keeping his eyes steady on mine. If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve believed him, but that stare he was giving me said something more. What’s going on? He wondered.

Oh, Dr. Reid, if only I could tell you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?” She asked through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Suddenly, the surface of her expressions liquified then melted away until I could see well beneath the anger, revealing the bodily tells of humiliation. 

I was profiling her, and I didn’t even know that I could. 

“You made me promise not to talk about anyone else except you tonight, remember?” He remarked with an uncharacteristic amount of edge behind his words. 

His outer mask was liquefying and transforming in its own right, too. As Cat became easier to read, the Doctor was slowly morphing into the man I first met - the man who was furious enough to throw an entire set of books off a table. The man who’s darkness made him impossible to read - made it impossible to think he’d ever been seen or touched by the light. 

She huffed and spun her head around so fast, it made her hair whip up and over her shoulder. The stern look upon her face fell for the briefest moment, and if it hadn’t been for everything I knew about her, I would’ve thought she looked pretty. She was pretty. But her soul, her sensibilities, they just ruined her. It was a shame really. 

She was tainted by wickedness in a way that I never would be, and for that, she had already come to the decisive determination that she hated me. 

“So how old are you, (y/n)?” Like a hawk hovering over its prey, she began to walk around me in a tight circle so she could scrutinize my every angle, discover every flaw, and poke at every button she could find. Precisely why she asked that question, too. She wanted to know where the similarities started and ended between us. She wanted to compare herself to me. Size me up, tear me down - lioness v. lioness. If she was gonna play dirty, then so be it. Two can play that game. 

“I’m 28.” A flat out lie. I’m 26. 

“Wow, I didn’t realize you had a type, Spencer,” She ruefully chuckled.

“And what’s that, Cat?” I couldn’t see him, but he sounded so unamused. 

“Jailbait.” 

There wasn’t much I could do besides move on from the subject. “Cat? Is it?” Considering she hadn’t told me her name before, I think Dr. Reid purposefully included it in his response so that I’d have a reason to know what it was. 

Smart move, Doctor. 

I wanted to smile from the way he was helping me out and working together with me, but my poker face stayed on.

“Catherine Adams,” She drew out the name to assert herself. I didn’t get to call her Cat like Dr. Reid did. That was his name for her and his name only. She made that point crystal clear. When I finally shrugged, she pounced once more.

“You really have no idea who I am? I’m hurt.” She fake pouted and put a hand to her heart to feign offense. “Spencer’s never mentioned me? Not once in your five months of dating?” Her emphasis on the timing of our ‘relationship’ showed her knowledge of the deceit, but she needed to do more than just put stress on one word. I wouldn’t back down that easily. 

“Why would he? You mean nothing to us.” Nastier words have never left my lips, and yet, I still made sure they were coated in the harshest tone I could muster up the courage to use. 

She scoffed and stopped walking around me to pull on Dr. Reid’s arm and force her mouth to make contact with his ear. Despite the closeness, he still refused to meet her eyes. He kept them locked on mine. 

“I mean nothing to you? Is that so?” Her breath was a jarring enough sensation on his neck to make his eyes shut. He was beyond uncomfortable. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell her what you told me at the rink?”

“What did you tell her, Spencer?” I was forcing him to speak, not because of the case, but because I wanted to know. Was that wrong?

“I …” The words got caught in his throat. “I told her that there’s some part of my brain, some part that she somehow inhabits.” 

A pang in my chest told me there was still more. That pang would be correct.

“No, go ahead, Spencie. Tell her the rest. Don’t be shy now.” 

He forced himself to look away from me as he said, “And no woman, no matter how good, no matter how kind, no matter how …”

“Say it,” She demanded, firmly tugging on his arm harder. 

“No matter how sexy she is, can ever get her out.” He looked repulsed by his own admission, and if I was being honest, so was I. 

“Are you in love with her?” Although I was venturing far off script, it felt like an appropriate response as his ‘girlfriend.’ It was my response. 

“No. I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you.” 

He’s such a pretty liar. 

Cat must’ve been annoyed by her lack of involvement in the conversation as she felt compelled to step in. “Prove it. Kiss her like you kissed me out there and I might believe you.”

Pretending to be hurt wasn’t hard. Not when I didn’t have to pretend. 

“You kissed her, too?” I had to ask.

Imagine if I were actually this poor guy’s girlfriend. Forget me - God help that girl. Even if this was all for the sake of the job, that wouldn’t have made it any better hearing what he’d confessed to her or what they did. 

Dr. Reid looked incredibly apologetic for someone that had nothing to apologize for. Sure, I was playing his girlfriend, but I wasn’t actually anyone of value in his life. So why did he look like he felt so goddamn guilty? 

“Ugh hurry up and kiss already!” Cat stomped her foot impatiently. 

As she released Dr. Reid, she gave him a strong shove in my direction, causing him to stumble right into me. He’d caught himself by grabbing onto my hips, while I stabilized him by clutching onto his forearms. 

His eyes were piercing through mine. I won’t kiss you unless I have your permission. His eyes read. 

Fighting against every reflex in my body that was resisting, I leaned closer. Then, right as I closed my eyes, I felt it. 

Not his lips. 

Blood.

My blood.

The coin-like taste shocked my eyes wide open so fast you would think I never even closed them in the first place. Abandoning my grip on his arm, I used my hand to block the sight of my bloody nose. 

(Y/n), what’s going on? Ms. Prentiss asked in my earpiece. 

“My nose is bleeding,” was my answer for everyone listening - Dr. Reid, Cat, and the BAU alike. 

“Are you alright?” He unhesitatingly shifted out of the role he seemed to be playing. His guard fell down to the point where it felt like nothing else mattered but to know that I was okay. It wasn’t Spencer and his fake girlfriend talking anymore, it was Dr. Reid and me again. 

“HELLO?! What’s going on?” The minute Cat’s shrilly voice hit the air, Dr. Reid shut it down with a steadfast hand. 

“Not now, Cat! Time out.” He motioned a T before he let an invisible magnetic force freely connect his hands onto my hips again. It seemed like he didn’t even touch me on his own accord but instead, it was the mere gravitational pull that brought his body back to mine. “This isn’t a game anymore.” His tone was unwavering as he walked me away from Cat and into the bathroom. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He whispered in a familiar tone after shutting the bathroom door behind himself. “You can leave now. You don’t have to keep doing this.” As though I were his grandmother’s delicate china, he hoisted me in the air momentarily to help me onto the sink with an almost unnecessarily large amount of caution. 

“I’m fine.” While I attempted to wave off his concern nonchalantly, traitorous butterflies swarmed my stomach at the feeling of his touch. 

“Don’t tell me you’re fine!” He scolded through an outpouring of laughter. “I can see the blood!” He underlined his words by pressing the toilet paper he retrieved on the spot under my nose where the blood was centralized. 

“Then don’t ask!” I just as playfully responded. 

“Alright, fine, fine,” He jokingly put his hands up in surrender. “What should I ask you then?”

I wish I was more uncomfortable than I truly was. Maybe then it would’ve been easier to lie to him. But there was something about how close he was to me or how unrelenting his stare was that made sincerity spill out from my every seam. 

“‘Why are you even here if you’re just ruining things?’” 

He looked so hurt despite the fact that the depreciation was directed at me. “Why would I ask you that?” 

“Because it’s true, isn’t it?” My eyes flashed to the door to ensure it was closed, but without the ability to guarantee that Cat wasn’t right outside listening in, I lowered my voice. “I’m way in over my head here. I have no idea what I’m doing and I feel like I’m just making things worse.” 

“None of that is true,” It sounded like a reprimand, the way he was defending me to me. “The team wouldn’t have asked you to be here if they didn’t think you could do it … and anyway, it’s kind of nice having a partner in crime.” 

He needed to watch his step before he began charting dangerous waters from which he could never escape. I was already playing with fire by allowing any real genuine emotion seep out around Cat. Except now that he’d thrown me a lifeline with his insinuation of liking my company, I knew, at least to some degree, that the feeling was mutual. I briefly calculated the risk until I ultimately decided to let my boldness rear its ugly head.

With the speed of light, I clicked off my earpiece with one hand and turned off Spencer’s with the other. He caught my wrist only after I’d successfully disabled the devices from allowing the team to hear us and us to hear them. 

“What are you doing?” “Why didn’t you kiss me?” 

Our questions came at the exact same time, and yet I didn’t repeat myself. 

I knew he heard me.

It was out of turn for me, given that I’d only briefly calculated the risk of asking this before doing it. It came out suddenly and then I couldn’t take it back. But I blame his gaze for my oversharing. It brought me so much comfort that I failed to recognize the discomfort my question had posed. 

He sort of laughed, saying, “Your nose was bleeding.” 

Under any other circumstance, I would have believed him. Unfortunately, he was exceptionally unconvincing, precisely because he didn’t look very sure of that explanation himself. 

While I’m sure my nose bleeding was a reason not to kiss me, it was most definitely not the reason. My honesty itself felt something like a nose bleed. For one thing, it annoyed me and was beyond my control. But for another, I wished I could find the source and pinch it off to make it stop. Stop it before I spilled out the words, “Oh, I get it ... you just didn’t want to kiss me.” 

“That was definitely not the problem,” He said a little too quickly and a little too adamantly that it made my head spin. In that response - he sounded very sure of himself, a complete contrast to his previous demeanor. 

“So why didn’t you?” I wish I could tell you why I was pressing the subject so hard. I’d like to think that if you were in my position, you’d want to know the answer as badly as I do now, which is the best rationale I could possibly come up with to justify what I said next.

“If you weren’t scared and if you didn’t not want to, then why didn’t you?” 

“(Y/n),” He averted my eyes by turning his head to the side, revealing a side smirk of contempt. I should’ve been mad that he was visibly frustrated because if anything - he was the one being frustrating. Instead, all I could think about was how I wanted to kiss that smirky mouth. Maybe to make the smirky-ness disappear. Or to control it.

Make it mine. 

“You’re running out of excuses, Dr. Reid. You’re going to have to kiss me eventually, so let’s just get this over with already.” Did I really just say that? 

“I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Kiss me!” Yes, I really did. 

“I’m not going to kiss you.” 

“Just kiss me!” 

“(Y/n), stop.” 

“God, Spencer, just kiss me already!”

“No!” His eyes found me again; This time they were wider. “Not like this!” 

Silence. 

Then he cleared his throat as if they’d somehow cover the confession that had already been said. 

“Not - I didn't mean - I just. We can't like that because that's not … do you know? Like it's very ... that's not what-" He continued to stammer until he mouthed one last “What?” to himself in complete disbelief of the words that had left his lips and the words that were still struggling to. 

Our brains must’ve been working at the exact same speed because while he couldn’t find the right words to say, I was still trying to process everything he already had. 

Without waiting for my response, he fled from the bathroom. When the door slammed shut, I whipped my body around to face the mirror, my fist tingling with the urge to punch the stupid girl staring back at me in the reflection. 

I knew I couldn’t take refuge in here for much longer unless I really wanted to piss Cat off. Which I totally did, but not if I couldn’t guarantee that Spencer wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. As confused and pissed off as he made me, I never wanted to hurt him.  

Once this realization dawned on me, another one had followed.

This was the key to cracking Cat. I’d found it. 

Like an overexcited bull bursting through the gates, I pushed my way out of the bathroom door seeing red. I saw Spencer first, standing in the corner of the room to monitor Cat from a distance. The aforementioned lioness herself was perched in an armchair, slouching in it comfortably as though she’d sat in that very seat a hundred times before. Not a single display of care in her conduct for the people whose lives she was actively trying to ruin. 

“So you finally ready to kiss your boyfriend yet?” If sarcasm were a liquid, it’d be dripping from her lips. She was so casually destructive when she spoke, like a loose-lipped bomb capable of going off at any minute but deliberately delaying the blow until it was guaranteed to wreak the most havoc on the most number of people. Seeing her in that light only made things easier.

“Forget the kiss, Cat. In fact, forget Spencer all together,” I waved my hand in his general direction behind me. Like him, I was standing, giving me all the power I needed to assert myself effectively. “It’s just you and me now. Exactly what you’ve wanted since the minute you stepped in here.”

She laughed ruefully, if only to make me insecure. “What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you scoped me out. You were doing that to figure out how alike we are, right?” 

She straightened a little more to sit up in her chair. She was hooked. “Why would I want to do that?” 

With my right foot, I swiped the foot rest out from underneath her legs, making her feet fall flat against the floor. Caught off guard by my swift movement, her upper body hurled forward while I took my seat on the foot rest, placing me directly across from her.

It wasn’t for a lack of dominance that I sat down. No, it was that I knew I had power over her, and I didn’t need to stand up anymore to prove it. 

“Feel free to stop me when I’m wrong,” I told her emphatically, knowing that would never happen. 

“You have always wanted Spencer. That’s just a fact. But deep down, you know he’s never truly wanted you. Sure, maybe he likes, even loves, the allure of your forbidden connection, but he doesn’t like or love you. And now that I’m here, the person he claims he loves in a way he’s never loved anyone before, you want to know just how similar we are. Because the more similarities you find between us, the more it kills you inside to wonder why he would love me over you if we’re practically the same. But you’ve only judged me from the outside, and we both know looks only go so far. So I’ll make it easier for you, Cat. I’ll tell you anything you want to know that way you can come up with an answer to the question you’ve been asking yourself the entire night: ‘Why her and not me?’”

She couldn’t pretend to be unfazed anymore. I had moved her beyond that. She was finally starting to react. 

“You would only be this confident if you already knew the answer to that question.” She concluded through gritted teeth. Her body was shaking all over, like the rage inside of her was boiling and her body was the feverish, bubbling water. “Do you know the answer?” 

I had nothing to hide. “Yes, I do.” 

“Tell me!” She threw down an iron fist against the top of her thigh. “Tell me what the answer is.” 

“You have more confidence in my answer than you’re ability to figure it out yourself? Come on, Cat. You couldn’t have gotten this far without your intelligence.”

“I don’t want to figure it out. I want you to tell me.” Her fist clamped around itself harder. 

“You don’t trust yourself to ask the right questions?”

“Just. Tell. Me.” Jaw clench.

“Alright, I’ll give you one similarity to start. We both have daddy issues-”

“I don’t care! Just give me the answer.” Foot tapping. 

“My grandma used to call my dad a ‘Bastard’ in French actually -” 

“Tell me!” Bodily tell after bodily tell, and I knew, I had done it. 

I beat the betting odds. 

“Fine, Cat. I’ll tell you what it is,” I had her undivided attention, and if I had eyes at the back of my head, I’d see I had Spencer’s, too. 

“The fundamental difference between you and me is that no matter what - I would never, ever, do anything to hurt Spencer. I have no compulsion to hurt him as a way to assert power over him or to make him fall at my feet. I can do that without ever having to go to the lengths that you’ve gone to. The power you wield over him is borne from a long-standing vendetta, whereas the power I wield, I resist using against him for revenge because that is what a morally sane person does. While I use my influence to help Spencer believe that he is a good person worthy of good treatment, you are constantly trying to prove that he is a bad person deserving of bad treatment. That he is anything like you.”

Her eyes just barely starting to water marked the last semblance of emotion I’d seen from Cat before the team swarmed the apartment and whisked her away. Then, the proverbial veneer of her mask had glazed back over her face, never to come off again. 

As Luke escorted her out in handcuffs, she gave me one last look over her shoulder. 

“How did you know about my dad?” 

You might think I slipped up when I told Cat that we were similar because of our daddy issues, therefore accidentally revealing that I knew more about Cat’s backstory than I led on, but that was purely by design. I had done that with the specific intention of setting this exact moment in motion. 

This moment where she would recognize that she’d overlooked my ‘mistake’ because of her lack of propriety. This moment where she would have to face the fact that she’d been deceived and outsmarted by me. 

This moment that she would think about until the day that needle went into her arm - the moment she realized - she let me win. 

_ _ _ 

As twisted as it may seem, the end to the reign of Queen Cat called for celebration. Penelope - she told me to call her that and not Ms. Garcia - had prepared cocktails galore in the round table room, which I’d actually been invited to enter this time. 

“You exceeded any expectations we had. The best we could’ve hoped for was no casualties, so I’m thrilled with the way things turned out tonight, and we couldn’t have done it without you,” Ms. Prentiss pulled me aside to say. “If you want it, there’s a spot waiting for you here on the team, and I really think you should consider taking it.”

To her proposal, I said I’d have to think about it, given that I’d hate to bestow my bad luck upon the team, but after tonight, I was about ready to declare my malchance a thing of the past. 

At this rate, I couldn’t distinguish whether I was dizzy from the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream or the job promotion from Secretary to Supervisory Special Agent. In any event, I knew I needed air. I slipped out of the conference room, past the glass doors of the bullpen, and waited patiently for the elevator. 

I must’ve caught Spencer after coming back from his ride with Cat to the prison because when the elevator doors opened, he was standing just on the other side of them, looking lost in thought. 

“Oh, hi!” I chirped, realizing then that he and I hadn’t said a word to each other since the “Kiss Me Bathroom Incident.” 

“Hey,” he called back, his voice already sounding unfamiliar after its lack of use towards me.

“Long time no see,” I joked to first lighten the air that seemed heavy between us. “I was just going to go down to get some fresh air.” 

“I’ll join you.” 

Because I hadn’t expected him to say that, I fumbled awkwardly into the tiny space that seemingly got smaller by the second, especially now that he was filling the space with me. 

The silence was a little too suffocating for my taste, and I couldn’t afford to have my breath be any more restricted by that than it already was being in this slender cage next to Spencer. Just to occupy the absence, I started rambling. “You know I was thinking -” 

No sooner did I start speaking than my words were cut off by the sweet, sweet shut of my mouth because of Spencer’s. His lips wholly encompassed mine just as his hands did to my face. I was surrounded by him and for that my breath had truly been taken away this time, but in the absolute best ways possible. 

There was simply no air. 

His ivy-like enclosure around me somehow made the claustrophobic elevator expand. Or maybe it felt like it had fallen away entirely. Nothing else around. Just us. 

His hands moved wherever they pleased and I followed suit, letting my hands go where they wished, never staying stationary in one place for too long. 

I had to feel him everywhere. Filling everything. 

He’d pulled away first, biting my bottom lip with blunt teeth to take me with him, and then he forced my lip in its place by kissing it back, pushing his lips impossibly closer like he wasn’t close enough. He wasn’t just trying to restore my bottom lip, but rather fuse ours together forever.

He pulled away for real this time but not far. His face and mine were centimeters apart, our breathes mixing in the microscopic air betwixt us. 

Still breathless, he rasped, “I meant something like that.” 

Now, I can say with absolute certainty that my malchance was a thing of the past. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

If you’re on this taglist, I strongly suggest commenting, reblogging, or liking!

CLICK HERE TO JOIN A TAGLIST

malchance tags: @donald4spiderman​ @urie-bowie-mercury​ @rexorangecouny​ 

tags not working: @youhaveabadconnection @gloriousmuffinempathstudent 

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid​ @spenxerslut​ @you-sunshine​​ @spencerreid9​

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #juniorgman187 #malchance #malchance pt 2

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Hello there! Can I request a Legolas x reader oneshot where the reader suffers from an injury, and Legolas being the best friend takes care of them? Fluff pleasee. Thankyou <3

Safe With Me

---

It happened during the Battle at Helms Deep. 

There was death, pain, anguish, and sorrow everywhere. No matter where you turned or where you looked, someone somewhere was suffering (either from the pain of death, grief, or fear). 

You've always been confident in your fighting skills; you know that you're good and can hold your own in a fight, but 'holding your own' paired with protecting others never seems to end well. 

Those fools thought it better to put weapons in the hands of children rather than the shield maidens who hide down below in the caverns, and though it does make sense that they would be the last line of defense, surely they could still spare some women instead of forcing the children to pick up their slack?

Even so, it's because of this decision that you're in your current state of injury. 

After the wall had been blown to bits and everyone began their retreat to the inner levels of Helms Deep, you tried to gather everyone you possibly could. 

Being as you're a rather skilled fighter, having trained from a very young age within the confines of Mirkwood, you managed to save a good deal of men and slay an excellent number of orcs, but there is a limit to your victories.

With each stroke of your short swords do orcs fall; every slash and stab reaching a mark that leaves the orc army with one less ally. Try as they might to overwhelm you, you're just too quick for them, so their blows remain useless for the most part (though you do get the occasional cuts and slices that leave you hissing in pain). 

You're in the midst of battling those nasty orcs 4 on 1 when it happens. Having been doing all you possibly could to keep the numbers off of the unskilled and dying men and young boys, you begin to focus more attention ahead than behind you, and one of those foul creatures manages to run up on you and finally get in a proper hit. 

The initial blow is easy for you to dodge, for you feel its' presence lingering behind you, but you quick duck prevents you from escaping the lower blow dealt to your right leg.

As soon as the blade makes contact with your calf you know you're done for. 

The deep slash causes your leg to give out from underneath you and you collapse to one knee, left crying out in shock and pain as your arms grow weak. 

Very vaguely do you hear someone yell your name, your sharp elf ears enhancing your hearing so that it may reach you, but you can't turn to look. 

In your downed state the enemy begins to overwhelm you, so you push your pain away and drop back as another blade comes swiping above your head, an action that would've taken your head with it had you not moved in time. 

You jab your sword up and impale the closest creature, muscles shaking and aching as it goes lax and slumps over towards you. 

Your energy wanes quickly, and the heavy, dead orc only further drains what little fight you have left in you. 

There is no time for you to reclaim your blade from the body of the dead monstrosity, so you're forced to release your beloved short sword and strategically roll away from the other oncoming attacks, and while it does prove to serve you well, you're now left injured and with only one of your weapons. 

The imbalance caused by losing one of your short swords is an alien feeling, for you always have both to fight with, and on rare occasions, neither. 

Another one of those dastardly abominations comes for you in when it sees your hasty retreat and weakening form and tries to stab you, but you role low to the ground and knock it off of its' feet, jabbing your remaining sword down into his belly as soon as he's at your level. 

Fighting so low to the ground, unable to stand is no easy task, and very quickly are you overtaken again. 

A large armored foot comes up and hits you right in the face, and you go down with it having been unable to react in time.

You fall back and land none too gently on your aching spine, and in mere moments is your left shoulder run through and pinned to the ground.

The unnatural feeling of the intruding weapon in your shoulder draws a pained cry from between your parted lips, and you find that you can no longer move that arm (if it were any bigger of a blade, you would've lost the arm altogether), so you rely on the other weaponed arm to stop the killing blow. 

With the last of your strength, you jab your sword upwards and stab it through the chest, relishing in the telling squelch and screech as metal and flesh alike are ripped to nothing, and then the wriggling creature stills and slumps heavily atop you. 

It's heavy and knocks the wind out of you completely, an unwelcome and suffocating feeling, and you'll later learn that this saves your life. 

Moments later, your world fades to black.

---

You were so sure that it was all over. That, while you tried your hardest, you failed. 

The last thing you remember was the horrible pain blooming from your shoulder and the blade protruding from your broken and battered body, and then the newly dead orc falling on top of you followed by complete and utter darkness. 

The bodies of man and orc alike littered the very ground you once stood on and the enemy was gaining more ground than you had to spare, so when you did finally wake up to see color again, you thought yourself to be dead just like all those around you. 

Only, you didn't quite anticipate that the Halls of Mandos would allow you to feel the pain and anguish of your past life. 

A quick look around tells you that you are, in fact, not actually in Valinor, for one of the very first sights you see is that of a dim wooden ceiling and your body laid out of a bed of mans creation. 

Pain is the first thing you feel once the anesthetic of unconsciousness wears off, and it's quite the pain alright. 

A quiet, agonized groan puffs past your chapped lips and your teeth clench together in tandem with your soft whimpers.  

You try to sit up, slowly raising your upper body from the bed, when a fresh pang of pain shoots through your shoulder and pins you back down to the bed. 

Instead of trying to get up this time, you just angle your head down and analyze your shoulder wound.

It's at this moment that you realize that your outer layer has been removed (probably cut away), and you're left with nothing but the gauze wrapping your shoulder and a covering for your modesty.  

When you look further down you see that your cut up calf has been treated much the same, and the only missing layer is that single leg of your trousers. 

Your vision suddenly goes blurry and you're forced to squeeze your eyes shut again, but this time when they open, there is another presence in your line of sight. 

It takes a few seconds for you to recognize the person hovering above you, but as soon as you do a small smile up turns the corners of your lips.

"Legolas..." Uttering that single name takes quite a bit of energy from your already bone dry reservoir, but you don't regret it for even a moment. 

Those sparkling pools of blue shine with relief when your whispered speech reaches his ears, and as soon as he's there does he disappear from your immediate vision. 

"I thought you were never going to awaken." He breathes, leaning over you once again with a damp towel in hand this time. "Tell me, how is the pain?" 

The towel is most likely to keep you from overheating, though you can't feel any sort of cold or hot like other mortal beings, and you appreciate it greatly. 

Your voice is barely a whisper when you reply, and it makes his elven heart throb in his chest with many emotions. "Painful?" Truthfully, it's a rather intense suffering that makes it hard for you to even think straight, but you don't wish to worry him any more than you already have. "Nothing that I cannot handle, I believe."

"That look in your eyes betrays a different story." He counters softly, reaching down to graze your too-warm cheek gently. "I will have to change your dressings soon. But I'm not so sure you will want to be awake for that." 

An alluded to promise of pain much worse than what you currently suffer, something you seldom wish to experience, though it's not like you can just pass out on command. 

"I will have one of the healers prepare for you a sleeping elixir, should you agree to have it." 

"What of the others? Surely I am not the worst of the wounded. You should conserve what you can." The words leave you even though you don't necessarily want to abide by them, but you don't take it back either. If you could prevent pain from anyone else, then you would. There's no guarantee that you'll react promisingly to it any ways. 

"There is plenty to go around. Do not worry yourself over others for the time being and allow me to help you." Those words don't make you feel any better.

If there is an abundance, then that means there haven't been enough wounded to use it (and not from a lack of injury either). 

A moment of silence washes between the two of you, and then in that same delicate whisper of yours do you ask, "How many...?" 

Hesitation rears its' ugly head and morphs his pleasant stare into a sorrowful, crestfallen frown, and it promises you nothing good. 

"Too many. But we must worry about that later when you have regained your strength and replenished your health. Please, rest." His places his hand over yours, touch as soft and careful as a feather, and he says no more on the matter. "I shall-" 

"Please, don't leave." You plea before you can engage your filter, curling your fingers around the warmth of his own, "I cannot handle the solitude right now." 

He hesitates once more but does not require further prompting, for he takes the seat next to your bedside and sits down. "Then I will stay right here with you." 

Your head tilts to the side to look over at him and the smallest of smiles brightens your pale face, "Thank you, Legolas. You've always done well by me." 

"For you, my friend, I would do anything. This is nothing." 

You're in good hands being left in his charge, and this thought lulls you into a pleasant, painless sleep. 

#ask box #ask #legolas x reader #legolas greenleaf #legolas #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings #reader insert #platonic #angst #comfort #fluff #tolkien

[anboringday]

A Morning With Lenny | Part 2

Summary: After a long, hot night of passion, Lenny and the woman he loves spend the following morning sleeping in...and things get heated again.

Pairing: Lenny Summers x f!Reader/OC

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Explicit/NSFW

Tags: Smut, lots of oral, foreplay, dirty talk, face humping, fluffy feelings sprinkled in, doing the usual kinky stuff with the cutest cowboy outlaw ever

Note: Being relatively new to the rdr2 fandom, I wrote this for myself because there just wasn’t enough Lenny fics out there and I HAD to change that. I love him so much and I hope you guys enjoy this! 

Read on ao3                                                                            

Part 1| Part 2

I woke the same way I’d fallen asleep, cuddled up to Lenny’s warm, gloriously nude body, his arm draped over me. His hazel eyes were glued to the pages of a book. My all-time favorite romance book!

“Lenny!” I snatched the novel away from him. “That’s mine!”

“Hey!” He tried to grab it back, but I rolled to the other side of the bed. “I was reading that, you know. It was getting good too, they were about to kiss—”

“Really now?” Giggling, I stretched my arms over my head. Through the sheer, linen window curtains, the gray dawn streaked the sky. “But you’re an intellectual, the harshest critic of the written word I know. I thought silly love stories were beneath you.”

“Nah, that ain’t true. Not all literature needs to be a thought-provoking masterpiece. Sometimes it’s all about the way it makes you feel, if you can relate to the context, and whatnot. Honestly though, I was just reading it ‘cause I knew you did. Can we…” He paused, a rush of red stained his cheeks. So cute. “C-can we read it together? From the beginning?”

“Yes!” Warmth flowed through me at the proposition. I handed Lenny the book and snuggled against him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, my head propped on his hard chest. “Are you going to read to me, Mr. Summers?”

“Sure. Anything for you.” He clasped my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm before opening the book, raising it to an angle suitable for the both of us to easily view the pages.

Lenny began reading aloud, his soft-spoken voice cultured, smooth, the long vowels of his words was damn near mesmerizing, sensual as sweet melted chocolate. Playing with the ends of his thick, curled locks, I drank in the beauty of his darkly stubbled face as I listened. His chest rose and fell with every breath, the crisp hair against my cheek tickled. I ran my palm down the rigid planes of his stomach, gently caressing the well-exercised muscles. His lean body was a work of art designed purely for female pleasure, and I enjoyed every moment of touching him.  

We remained connected throughout the morning, his fingers threading through my hair soothingly as he spoke such lovely sounding words. I yawned, closing my eyes, my body lax in his embrace. Through the haze of sleep, I felt his weight and heat come down on me, his full lips brushed over my cheek.

“Hey,” Lenny said. “Dozing off on me already?” His fingers brushed over my sides, tickling me.

“Lenny!” I squirmed and threw my arms around him, burying my grinning face against his shoulder. “Stop that!”

His sensuous mouth twitched with amusement. “Sorry, it’s just so tempting. You’re so ticklish, it’s cute.”

“Shut up.” I pecked the tip of his nose. “Can’t we sleep in today?”

“I wanted to take you into town, catch a show, browse some of the stores, have a nice dinner at the saloon…” He planted a quick kiss on my lips. “But I reckon that can wait if you rather stay here. A day of rest and relaxation with my favorite lady sounds like a mighty fine idea to me.”

“I’m your only lady,” I corrected, raising my hand in a proud display of the platinum promise ring he gave me.

“The one and only. Since the day we met, you were all I ever wanted. All I could think about. All I could see. It’s always been you—my everything.” He caught my hand with his, our fingers intertwined. “Sometimes I look at you and wonder how I got so damn lucky.”

My heart thumped with a tender ache in my chest. Lenny could say such sweet things, wonderful things.

“We can’t go into town,” I said. “What if someone recognizes you from Blackwater? I just got you back. I won’t lose you again.”

His amber gaze drifted over my face, searching. “Running with gang kept me away from you for a long time. We lost everything in Blackwater, and I got so caught up in Dutch’s blood feud with the O’Driscolls—lying, cheatin’, and robbin’ fools from Valentine up to Saint Denis, trying to get the crew back on their feet…I wish I came back to you sooner.” Sighing deeply, he grew silent.

“You’re here now.” I stroked his cheek. “That’s what matters.”

“Maybe so. My dad used to say dwelling on the past is something like beating on a dead horse, ain’t no good ever come from it.”

“Your father was a smart man.”

“Sure was. An educated negro like him, good and kind, ain’t long for this world. It was only a matter of time.” His eyes glittered, wet with a deep-rooted pain for a split-second before he blinked it away.

My heart clenched. My poor, sweet Leonard…

He had suffered so much tragedy throughout the course of his life. Most of the time, he seemed unfazed, strong despite the pain lingering in his heart. But I knew better. He lived in a world that didn’t want him, didn’t accept him. His color didn’t suit their fancy and the scars of rejection ran deep, the hurt and loss probably ate at his soul on the daily. Wounds like that will never fully heal, but there were ways to lessen the sting.

“Lenny Summers,” I cupped his chin. “You’re gonna stop thinking those bad, silly thoughts right this instant. Look at me.”

He complied. Our eyes locked.

“You’re a good man,” my voice were clear, and distinct, without a shred of doubt. “Do you understand me? You are good. Perfect. You have every right to be here, to live freely, to laugh, to love—no matter what anyone says, no matter what they do—you’re a goddamn human being and that’s the end of it. You’re important. And I love the hell outta you. I always will.”

Blush deepening, muscles tensed, his mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, visibly struggling to find words. He was speechless, reeling from my praise. His shaken reaction was probably the most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

“Say something,” I urged softly, brushing over his cheek with the backs of my fingers.

Lenny took my hand and held it to his chest, his heart thumping, racing. He was apprehensive and impassioned. But why? What was he thinking?

Finally regaining his composure, he asked, “Do you feel that?”

“Yes.” The speedy rhythm of his heart didn’t let up.

“This is what you do to me. You have power over me, a hold—it’s like a snare I can’t escape, like a spell I can’t break.” He chuckled dryly, bitterly. “I never felt weak a day in my life until I met you.”

“You’ve been a wanted man for a long time, struggling to survive, fighting an endless war with the world around you. But you don’t have to be on the defensive with me. It’s okay to let your guard down. There’s more to life than being an outlaw.”

His eyes brightened. “Oh yeah, of course. There’s strong whiskey, fine music, good books, an oiled gun, gold nuggets and silver bullets.”

“Lenny…”

“But regardless of all that, you’re the best part.” Sweetly, he nuzzled my nose.

I giggled. “Well now, aren’t you charming?”

“Ain’t that the reason you love me?”

“One of the many.”

His full lips curved into a slow, breathtaking smile, dazzling against his deep brown skin. Sunlight dappled over his face, illuminating that strong, flawless jawline of his. Goodness, he was so very good looking, impossible to resist, and my love for him intensified by the day. I was helplessly addicted to Lenny Summers, the hours we spent together felt like minutes. I could never get enough.

My cheeks heated. “God, how do you manage to turn from cute to sexy in a matter of seconds?”

He smirked. “It’s a gift, part of my charm.” His hand touched my waist, sliding downward along my thigh. A curse hissed out between his teeth once he reached my lace garter belt. “You’re still wearing those?”

“You didn’t take them off me last night.”

“I don’t plan to.” Lenny rose to his knees, hovering over my scantily clad body, eyes smoldering as he stared down at me. “Keep them on. You look so, so, so pretty just like that.”

“Don’t you mean fuckable?”

“Hey, language!” He mocked me with a lopsided smile. “That’s no way for a lady to speak.”

“Oh, forgive me, Mr. Summers,” I said, my tone laced with sarcasm. “For a lying, thieving outlaw, you’re quite the prude.”

His nose wrinkled in protest. “Me? A prude? No, I’m more of a hopeless romantic with a love for dialect and vocabulary.” He drew close, his tongue traced the shell of my ear. My breath caught in my chest. “If you say things—the right things—you can put anyone in the mood.”

I shivered, hot and bothered, a heated ache between my legs. It wasn’t particularly the context of Lenny’s words that turned me on, but the sound…the huskiness in his voice, the way he dragged the vowels, sensual and rich with passion. His voice was smooth as velvet, unbearably sexy in my ear, sending vibrations deep into the core of my body.

He could talk any woman out of her clothes and into his bed without much effort. Not that he would though, he was much too tenderhearted, too sympathetic to be a womanizer.

He was truly one of a kind. And all mine, by some miracle.

A distinct warmth flooding my core, I shoved my hands into his hair and kissed him. I loved how soft his lips felt against mine. His arms enveloped me as he kissed me back, his tongue glided over mine with hot, savory licks that left me breathless and yearning for more. I could only imagine how amazing that firm mouth of his would feel in other places…

I moaned, feeling the prod of his impressive erection against my thigh. I wrapped my fingers around him, and he bucked his hips on contact, thrusting into my hand.

He groaned into my mouth, still ravaging my lips. The scent of our lust was heavy in the air, the heavy weight of his tense, magnificent body pinning me down. He was hard as stone, and hot. I stroked him from root to tip, my palm slick with precum.

“Ah, damn…” he uttered between kisses, lazily fucking my hand. “That feels good.”

“It feels better inside me,” I murmured against his lips.

He broke the kiss, parting me with his finger. “Not yet. You ain’t ready for me.”

With a feeble sound of protest, I buried my face in his neck.

“Hey, no pouting,” he clasped my chin, forcing me to look into his beautiful hazel eyes. His voice softened. “You’re so tight. I’ll bruise you if we don’t take it slow, okay?”

My gaze glued to his fiercely handsome face, an abrupt gratitude filled my soul. “I love you.”

He beamed, kissing my lips one last time before his tongue seared a path down my neck to my breast. Once he caught my nipple between his teeth, I flinched.

Lenny quirked a brow. “You’re sensitive.”

“I still haven’t recovered from last night,” I said.

“Relax, Sugar. I’ll be gentle.”

I blinked, perplexed by the endearment, although I adored how sweet it sounded from his lips. “Sugar?”

He uttered a soft assent, and returned his attention to my breasts, wrapping his mouth around my nipple, sucking lightly. His finger circled the other, the tantalizing caress brought a mist of perspiration to my skin. His tongue moved slow, exquisitely tender over my swollen flesh, soothing like a healing balm. Relishing the sensation, I closed my eyes.

I combed my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Is there anything you can’t do with that tongue of yours?”

Lenny flashed a wicked smile. “That sounds like a challenge.” His palms slipped under my hips, he yanked me to the edge of the bed, and dipped low. I slapped a hand over my mouth, smothering a gasp as his tongue fluttered over my clit. Two of his fingers inched inside me and I clenched eagerly around him, my leg draped over his shoulder. Heat swept over me, my heart slammed erratically in my chest.

The delicate rhythm of his stroking, curving fingers was wonderful, but it was his mouth that drove me crazy. The tip of his tongue lapped at my throbbing clit tirelessly…relentlessly. My hips churned, a violent shiver moved through me. He knew my body so well, exactly how to please me, everywhere he touched left a blazing trail of warmth behind.

I bit back a cry at the sweltering heat and lash of his tongue, my core convulsing with every tender lick. Dizzy, drugged and near mindless with sensation, my hands ached for his touch, gliding over his sweat-damp skin, tugging at his hair. He captured my palm with his free hand, our fingers laced together.

“Yes, Lenny, like that,” I urged. “Make me come.”

And he did, with the soft suction of his lips and measured thrusts. I shuddered, tingling, pleasure pulsated through me. Lenny didn’t stop. His tongue continued to work my clit as I rode his fingers shamelessly, my limbs trembling, my climax rolling on and on. I was melting, drowning in sensation. Tears stung my eyes, the walls that kept my emotions at bay breaking at the seams. Swept away by the ongoing waves of ecstasy, I wept silently.

Licking his lips, Lenny rose, lifting my sweaty, limp body along with him. His gaze searched my face with concern. “You okay?” I heard his question just barely past the blood rushing in my ears.

I managed a nod. Carefully, he set me down on the center of the bed, my head hit the pillow. He crawled in beside me, wiping the tears from my cheeks with a light sweep of his knuckles. “Was it too much?”

“No.” Pleasantly aching, I sighed. “You were perfect.”

His eyes studied me for a few beats. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Dazed from the toe-curling, spectacular climax he gave me, I shut my heavy eyelids for a moment. “It’s your turn now.”

“We have all the time in the world to make love. Why don’t you get some rest?”

My gut kicked. I forced myself up to face him. “No, we need an equal exchange. I don’t want you to feel used—”

He pressed a finger to my lips, silencing me. “I don’t feel used. That ain’t what this is. It’s just…I don’t wanna push you—”

I swatted his hand away. “Well, I’m not going to sleep until you come.”

His brows rose. “Okay, fair enough. I got an idea.” He shifted to his knees, the blunt tip of his throbbing cock nudged my lips. With a toothy, iconic grin smeared across his face, he requested sweetly, “Lubrication please?”

I gladly drew him in until he hit the back of my throat and was rewarded with a sultry burst of more precum. A pleased murmur escaped me as I savored the taste. He swelled, growing thicker and larger under the flat of my tongue. His balls were big, heavy, a bold display of potent virility. I played with them, rolling the weighty pair in my hand, feeling them tighten.

My eyes were riveted to Lenny as he tipped his head back, muscles rigid and breathing ragged. A deep groan of delicious agony rumbled in his chest. “Goddamn, your mouth…fuck.”

Lenny was the most calm tempered, well-composed man I knew. Watching him unravel like this, face flushed with lust, cursing, the pleasure threatening his control—it was so very satisfying. And sexy.

He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. “Okay, I-I reckon…that’s good enough.” He pulled out, altering his position, his knees came down at my sides.

I stared at him quizzically as he knelt over me, his slobber-coated cock stood erect above my heart. “What are you doing?”

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Since the day I laid eyes on you.” He cupped my breasts in his hands, kneading them, rolling my nipples into tight points between his forefingers and thumb.

I whimpered, arching into his hand, unbearably sensitive. His rigid length slid between the valley of my breasts, and I gasped, squirming. Why not use my mouth for pleasure instead? “Lenny—”

“I need this.” His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire as he began moving his hips, his big cock gliding between the softness of my chest. “I love you.”

The tender words rolled off his tongue with a quiet, yet passionate intensity. A bubbly sensation struck my heart. “Feels that nice, huh?”

A wry smile pulled at his lips. “I might have an unhealthy obsession with…you know.” He smacked my breasts playfully. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me, handsome.”

His blunt crown brushed my mouth with every stroke. I kept my lips puckered, kissing the tip, loving the unique taste. The rhythmic slap of his balls against my tits had my clit aching for attention once again, but I didn’t care. Right now, nothing in the world mattered more than satisfying him. I wanted to do this for him, he deserved it for being so good to me.

The arousing sight of his sharply sculpted abdomen and lean, pumping hips was enthralling, his sweaty, beautiful brown skin shined and glistened like priceless jewels beneath the light. He was stripped bare to the primal desire where only the race to climax mattered and still, I was spellbound by his beauty. Swooning. He was divine. Heavenly. Fitting of worship.

“I’m close,” Lenny trembled, his voice was a guttural rasp.

“Give it to me.” Grasping his straining thighs, I propped myself up on my elbows and opened my mouth.

I took him in, hungrily sucking his solid length, my cheeks hollowed with the strength of my all-consuming need to pleasure him. He gripped my hair, frantically thrusting—punishing my throat with his big cock. My eyes stung and my lungs burned, but I was too turned on to give a hell. The sounds he made and the loving praises that slipped from his lips made it all worth the effort.

He emptied himself into my greedy mouth, the first spurt of his load so thick, it was a hassle to swallow. His entire body shuddered as I eagerly drained him of everything he had.

I licked him clean afterward. He curled up next to me, pressing tiny, appreciative kisses to my shoulders and neck. “I’m gonna need you to do that more often,” he uttered, and then added sweetly, softly, “Please.”

The vivid blush on his cheeks warmed my heart. “Of course I will, but first, I’m going to need some real food in my tummy.” My stomach rumbled. “As scrumptious as you may be, I can’t live off you alone, Lenny.”

“Your wish is my command, Sugar.” He pulled away and reached for his satchel on the nightstand. “Luckily for you, the last stagecoach I robbed had all kinds of goodies—”

I clutched his stubbled chin, drawing him back in. “Forget that canned slop. Wouldn’t you prefer a homecooked meal?”

“Cook?” His brows scrunched up. “Uh…I’m not—I can’t—”

“Sure you can. I’ll teach you. We can whip something up in the kitchen together.” I cupped the side of his cheek, looking into his eyes. “As long as we have each other, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

His gaze sparkled, the golden flecks wildly radiant and alluring as always.

#lenny summers #rdr2 lenny #rdr2 #smut #rdr2 fandom #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #writers on tumblr #fanfic #romance #lenny x oc #rdrwriting #fanfiction #love #self insert #rdo #rdr #rdr fandom #rdr fanfiction

[eldrylva]

“We will start small; you are not truly dead, and therefore...”

“You may speak freely, Eos. We are delicate and fragile.”

The pair shared in a knowing look, but Astrid was smirking. The Ascended in front of her merely smiled, a brief, tight-lipped expression of apology behind her luminous gaze.

“I look at you, Shield-Maiden, and I see your pain. Your suffering, your guilt... I see and feel it all as if it were my own. Your brother...” Eos began, frowning softly as she peered down to the robed and kneeling Northwoman, postured and poised on her shins as she prepared to meditate.

“.. Fjalar.” Astrid said softly. Rage subtly built beneath her veins; rage and guilt. She could have done more, should have done more to save him, but the Kvaldir was too quick and the axehead bore down--

“-- Yes. Fjalar. Close your eyes. Clear your mind as best as you are able. Your first Trial will be a battle against the guilt you cling to.” Eos explained, and Astrid obliged. Nerves pooled in her belly, and something in the back of her head told her to run, to get up and run and go home. But that wasn’t why she was here. She was here with Lord Sunshield and whomever remained to fight with him.

Incense wafted into her nostrils and immediately her body went lax, her mind cleared and fogged. She felt herself be pulled, tugged away gently by her chest. Suddenly she was ethereal, a transparent blue spirit staring at her hunched body. Her chest still moved, she was still breathing, but she was..

Her chest seized uncomfortably, panic bubbling in her belly as she whirled around to see where she was. She was still in Bastion, in fact, the Temple of Purity is where Eos had taken her for the day. She locked eyes with Eos for a moment but the Ascended Watcher said nothing, simply remained poised and waiting. Could she even see her? Of course she could. .. Right?

Astrid exhaled sharply, side-stepping away from her body. Thick globules of blackened substances wept from her mortal form, seeping from her closed eyes and bled from a gaping hole in her chest. That wasn’t real, was it? ... Was it?

“Systir!!” Came chirped from a boy’s mouth just behind her. Astrid froze. Her incorporeal form spun around faster than her brain could register and.. there he was. Just in front of her, robed in black, skin the color of a moonlit dusk and eyes a soft lavender stared up at her with the biggest of grins, wide and familiar. 

The guilt emanating off of the boy stole the breath from her lungs and formed tears in her eyes. It was staggering, deafening, the feeling of this presence and how he was dressed familiar... But he was so real... the feeling was forgotten about, for the moment.

“Systir, you finally came for me! I’ve missed you! I’ve been waiting!” Fjalar giggled, trotting over to her and wrapping his arms tightly around her legs in a hug. He was only a boy... and he was taken so soon... Astrid’s robed form dipped into a crouch, tumultuous storm greys searching as she cupped either side of the boy’s face in disbelief. 

“I know you have...” She whispered hoarsely, breathlessly, as she gazed at the boy in front of her. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, liten ulv..”(little wolf)

Fjalar giggled, throwing his arms around Astrid’s neck, next, and the woman’s arms curled protectively around his smaller frame, holding him close. Fjalar couldn’t be here.. could he? He was supposed to be in the Eternal Hunting Grounds with Fenryr and their ancestors...

Astrid buried her face in the boy’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of pack, kin, clan.. home... but he did not carry the scent on him. Suddenly the boy’s arms were tightening around her neck, with a strength she didn’t recognize.

“You abandoned me.”

Astrid was caught off guard by the snarl in the boy’s voice, the guilt and grief anchoring her to her knelt spot. She couldn’t breathe, his arms constricting around her neck like a vice.

“F-Fjalar...” Astrid wheezed, tears spilling down her cheeks in droves. She tried to pry herself off of him with a pathetic whine, but the boy’s grip was unrelenting. She was choking to death on grief and guilt, paralyzed.

“You could have saved me, Systir. But you didn’t. You left me to d i e.”

No... no she didn’t... she fought tooth and nail to try and drag him back but Tyrsten’s grip was too tight on her arms, the sound of shouting and fear from her Clan and family shrill and chaotic in her ears. All she could smell was the seaweed, the brine of the deep sea as the raid from Helya’s minions gutted her clan’s small camp before they were to venture further in the woods and settle. 

“You ran away from me and left. Me. To. Die.”

She didn’t. She did all she could. She was just a girl, she hadn’t even gotten her tattoos yet... She was just a girl. 

Astrid felt the air leaving her lungs, the guilt tearing a hole in her chest that would never close. She was struggling, fingers grasping weakly at a darkly robed arm.

“Fight, Shield-Maiden!” She heard Eos shouting from where she stood. Astrid canted her head as much as she could, spotting Eos hovering closely to Astrid’s obsidian-bleeding body. She was perfectly still in the outside world, but here? she was losing. 

I can’t fight this. I can’t do it. I can’t kill him, my brother--

Fjalar’s stone cold hands gripped either side of Astrid’s face, his own twisted into a sinister snarl, fangs of his own that hadn’t grown in yet bloody and black with rage. Violet magic glimmered around his body.

“DIE. YOU LEFT ME TO DIE.” He shouted. He was Forsworn. Mawsworn. This wasn’t her brother. An all new panic set into her bones, and she had two options; fight or die. Fight or die. Fight, or die. Astrid’s eyes burned a bright gold, feral and wary, like a cornered animal, and suddenly the shackles of guilt and grief were shattered and she shouted, tearing herself away from her brother. Astrid’s incorporeal form snapped back into her body, and the woman jolted awake.

Astrid gasped, a sharp sound, her eyes flying open and her sitting position disrupted by her launching backwards, skidding and scooting. Her trembling hands felt at her chest and the rest of her body; she was in one piece, the ichor from the Trial neither was there or stained her gossamer clothing. Her stare rose to Eos, then, who had a hand on her shoulder, the shadows swirling around her left forearm like a warm cloak, staining the woman’s azure skin a deep, near black violet hue, then it was gone.

“That... is how the Aspirants become Forsworn. We will try again when you have rested properly. I will find you; go clear your mind once again. Rest.”

Astrid swallowed tightly, her breath coming back to her in stages. She was slick with sweat, confusion and panic a lump in her throat and she couldn’t respond, all she could do was scramble to her feet with a groan. Fiery red curls stuck to the back of her neck and face and without another word, Astrid staggered and tromped out of the Temple of Purity.

He was so real...

Astrid snuffled, batting her temple with the heel of her palm with a disappointed snarl. She could have done better... how stupid was she that she couldn’t see through the illusion?

Waiting for her was Ida, the Larion from days previous. She sat atop the hill that the path she walked on crested, poised and purposeful in her stare and the way she sat. Noble arrogance and expectance. 

“Come to mock or gloat, have you?” Astrid rumbled to the creature in passing, whose feathered ears fluttered behind her head with a rumble. Ida was.. following her? Why? The large beast tailed ahead of the Shield-Maiden, casting a midnight-colored eye over her shoulder to lead. Water. She needed a shower, she was filthy and smelled of disappointment and disapproval.

Astrid sighed. She was going to be in Bastion for a while, it seemed.

#Bastion: Day Two #ic things

[saltmageelliexiv]

Disclaimer: This story contains mild mentions of physical abuse, please read with caution.

“Ellie, Greyson ran out again... it appeared, he overheard us talking about his father. Do you want to go get him, or shall I?”

“... I’ll go get him. It’s about time he knows the story.”

It had been quite some time since Ellie had been back to Ishgarde; her personal funds had been running low, and she needed to make money to bring back with her. After a rough month of taking extra clients, and even picking up odd contracts for ‘pest disposal’, she had finally made a sizable sum to bring back to her sister, and her son, back in the snow-covered city. The highlander was greeted with warm smiles, and a jubilant child, her beloved son. The boy could barely contain his excitement to see his mother again. The evening was spent in good fun; talking about what happened while she was gone, preparing dinner together. The time they were apart had felt like it had been so long, but that feeling of loneliness seemed to disappear in mere moments.

After dinner and some light-hearted fun, Greyson had been dismissed to bed; though he was already in his tenth year, he was still a young boy, and needed sleep. While he had gone to retire for the night, the adults could finally have a more private conversation, the topic of his father coming up. Dethalis had been pushing Eliceyn to finally talk to him about it, seeing that he was old enough to know the truth. But deep down, that fear was there; that Greyson would resent his father so much that he’d do something reckless. He had known too much suffering, and she couldn’t bring it upon herself to add more onto it than she already had.

During the discussion, Greyson had been roused from his sleep, wanting something to drink. Making his way to the kitchens in the large home, he had no choice but to walk past the den if it meant having suitable light to see. From there, he could hear the voice of his mother and his aunt, listening in on the conversation they had. All he could hear was scornful words of his father, how much she despised his very being, and worse; how she wished for death before she even knew his face. From there, dark thoughts began to flood his mind; had she hated his father so much, that she’d wish him gone as well? He couldn’t stop the tears from flooding in his eyes, a soft sniffle giving him away.

“--Greyson?” Eliceyn’s voice rang out softly, ceasing the spewing of her hate-fueled words, noticing that her son had been there.

Before she could try and go to him, the boy ran down the hall, making his way down a small set of stairs. At this time of night, all the house maids and servants would have been in bed, no one minding the front door. That night, Dethalis had been lax with securing the door, forgetting to lock it in the midst of Eliceyn’s arrival. Summoning all of his strength, the child managed to open the heavy door, immediately running out of it, barefoot, in light pajamas, into the dark, snowing city. By now, Ellie was certainly regretting not wearing clothes suitable for running, nearly tripping over her robes in the process of trying to catch him.

Once her sister had inquired who would fetch the boy, the answer was clear; she had to do it. He was her son, and he heard his mother say some dark words about a man he hadn’t ever known. He had seen a side of her she had wished he would never see. Grabbing the oversized shawl she arrived in, she’d run out into the night, following the lit pathway lights, looking down to the stone, seeking some sort of footprint.

‘I hope he didn’t go too far...’

She looked high and low around their home; by the Keep, The Last Vigil, she had only one place left to look: Saint Reymanaud’s Cathedral. He was always told that if he was lost in the city, or needed help, to run there, and seek sanctuary with the holy men and women within, until they could find Dethalis, or one of the manor workers. It was a stretch, but she thought at the very least, if their doors were open, they’d keep him safe and warm until she found him. Approaching the door, Eliceyn grabbed the small handle, giving a couple soft tugs, the door halting at each one.

‘Locked... where could he have gotten to?’

- ... sniffle-

Eliceyn’s ear twitched; in the absolute silence of the snowfall, the soft sound stood out. A quiet sniffle, and it was closeby. Going off to the side of the building, Ellie walked down a narrow pathway that led behind the cathedral, revealing a small garden outside, and on a nearby bench, a small, dark-haired child. His knees were pressed tightly into his chest, his face buried in his knees. Eliceyn could recognize those dark curls from anywhere. Approaching with caution, she removed her shawl, slowly wrapping it around him as she drew in closer.

“Greyson, you shouldn’t have run out like that. You had me worried sick.” Her voice was riddled with guilt. She never intended for him to find out about his father like this. She had hoped to tell him when he was older, and could understand. “Come on, talk to me. Please?”

This wasn’t going to be easy. He kept on crying even through his mother’s attempts at quelling his sadness. Bringing the shawl a bit tighter around him, Eliceyn gently began running her hand up and down his back, hoping it would help him relax.

“If you’re not going to talk to me, can you at least cover your feet so you don’t get frostbite? For me?”

Greyson was still silent; he didn’t know what to say. It was clear Eliceyn was trying to get him to open up, but what could he say? He didn’t even know how to feel; all he knew is that he felt like the hatred for his father, extended to him as well. At the very least, he did as she asked, covering his bare feet with the shawl, the warmth slowly returning to his toes. Wiping his face of the tears with the shawl, he’d scoot in closer to his mother, trying to warm himself up further.

“Do you hate me, mother?”

He didn’t mince words; he just wanted the truth. But even a question like that cut into Eliceyn’s heart deeper than any sword could. She could even feel it break under the weight of such a question.

“Greyson, that’s insane. I could never hate you.” She’d speak in a gentle voice, bringing her arm around him to pull him in closer. She could feel how cold he was; such weather was not good for a child. At least he was covered. “Why would you think I hate you? You’re my son; no mother could hate their child.”

“Then how come you were so angry when talking to Auntie about my dad?” Even with tears still slowly streaming down his face, he wanted to know more. He HAD to know the truth. About his father, and why his mother hides his identity from him.

Eliceyn let out a heavy sigh; she couldn’t talk her way out of this after all. She had secretly hoped she could get away with it, but not this time. Her heart had fell to the pit of her stomach, her throat going dry. This was going to be a challenge.

“Greyson... you know what your mother is, right?” At the very least, she had this conversation with him. He knew about how Ellie saw clients, but to his knowledge, he only knew that she met with them for business, not the deeper details of her ‘work’.

“Back when your mother was a bit older than you... your grandmother sold me to a woman, who forced me to do the work I do now. She made me into a slave, and a man had paid the debts I made her build up for taking care of me. He took me to his home, promised to take care of me, and give me a better life.”

Already she began to choke up at the retelling. She had to think of how to leave as little detail in it as possible, or at least, hide some of the darker details. There were some things he didn’t know. Regardless, Greyson was silent, listening intently to his mother.

“That man gave me a better life, but it came at a price. I had food, clothing, and a roof over my head. But he was a very angry man. He would get angry at the smallest things. One night, he got angry with me.” She had to pause, the memories of that night coming back to her. The events of that night was a source of some of her most profound nightmares. Taking a soft swallow, Eliceyn breathed deeply, easing herself to continue.

“He hurt me, Greyson. He had grabbed a knife, and held it to my throat, threatening to kill me if I disobeyed him. Look here...” Pulling her hair aside, she’d bring her finger to a small scar across her neck. Such a small thing was easily hidden, but once she pointed it out, the discoloration was obvious. “He did this to me. And he wouldn’t hesitate to do that to a child. That man... he is your father, Greyson. I ran away from him when I found out I was pregnant with you, to make sure you would be safe.”

Greyson couldn’t take his eyes off the minuscule scar on her neck. It was so small, but he couldn’t even begin to imagine the fear she felt. How she was at dangerous risk, how she took a risk, just to make sure he would be safe. Ellie let go of her hair, bringing her arm back down around him. “Now do you see why I didn’t tell you, Greyson? I may have despised your father, but you do not belong to him, you’re MY son. You’re MY own flesh and blood. And I will be damned before I let anyone put their hands on you.”

Eliceyn reached her other hand to her son’s cheek, trying to wipe away any remaining tears with her sleeve. Even after telling him what happened, she wasn’t going to stop babying him like this. “Are you angry with me?”

Greyson was still silent, only shaking his head at the question. Eliceyn pulled him in close for a hug, holding him tightly, as she brushed her hand on his back. She didn’t disclose the full story, but he didn’t need to know everything. Just that his father was a dangerous man. 

“Come, let’s go home.”

Having already been through enough that night, she picked the child up in her arms, holding him up with her left forearm, and keeping his body pressed to her own with her right arm. To help him hold on, he wrapped his arms around her neck, his crying finally stopping. By the time they had returned home, he was already falling asleep in his mother’s arms. Taking him to his room, she laid the boy down in his bed, pulling a couple plush blankets over his body, tucking him in. A soft kiss on the forehead, and gently closing the door, Eliceyn let out a heavy sigh outside his room.

‘No one is ever going to hurt you, my son. Not while I’m still around.’

#My Writing #Eliceyn Birch #Not my best but it's the first thing I wrote in months

[shattered-quartz]

Tag: Why did the good times have to end? (Champion Verse/Good end verse)

This verse takes place after Cliff loses to Cynthia the first time when he’s younger and is aptly disowned by his parents due to his failure. But doesn’t go down the path of team rocket

- He travels through many different regions as just as a passerby, Not a trainer (His parents took his first team of pokemon away from him, though he did still catch pokemon as companions) trying to find a place for himself away from the region of sinnoh, But he found while many of the regions were interesting. He simply couldn’t find it within’ himself to call any of them home. Although he spent a few years in unova to learn how to become a pokemon nurse (Essentially a nurse joy)

- It was also around this time that he found a itch to return back to sinnoh, to Try again (he’d been travelling for around four years at this point-) so with the pokemon he’d caught over his years of travelling, he returns to sinnoh and starts training them for battle. Starting small and working himself and his pokemon up to bigger challenges, This eventually led to his once again going through the gym challenge and powering through it with the same furiosity as when he was younger though with more confidence that this was indeed what he wanted for himself.

- He soon found himself in front of Cynthia once more, She recognized him as the same child who’d once walked through doors with anger in his heart, Their battle was a long one and with it. it was neck and neck though in the end, Cynthia’s reign as sinnoh’s champion came to end as her garchomp finally fell and cliff was granted the title as the new champion.

- Verse wise, He’s held the position for almost two years now and he’s known as strong, confident but soft hearted individual who tries to instill a sense of pride in any that come to challenge him, He still travels though less frequently and cares a lot for his home region.

- he still has a bond with Diancie, it happened when he was visiting Kalos and managed to stumble across the pokemon when she was weak and He nursed her back to health over the course of a few months, She’s still on the weaker side even now as such relying on her bond partner for assistance and offering what she can while he tries to figure out in his free time what ails her.

POKEMON TEAM: under readmore due to length

Species: Aerodactyl Types: Rock/Flying Name: Splinter Gender: Male Nature: Jolly Ability: Unnerve Moves: Agility, Iron head, Stone edge, Ice fang Personality/History: A snippy pokemon that acts more like a really ancient cockatoo then a fierce stone age creature, he was revived after cliff found his old amber in kanto, He’s really just grumpy and must scream, EXACTLY. at 4:00am every morning Extra info: Capable of Mega evolution

----

Species: Shuckle Types: Bug/Rock Name: Berry Gender: Male Nature: Calm Ability: Sturdy Moves: Sticky web, Stealth rock, Encore, Toxic Personality/History: He is very shy usually and will hide in his shell at the slightest hint of a unwanted provocation, He was drawn out by cliffs offer of berries and now makes berry juice for him! Extra info: He is used entirely defensively and is a son of a bitch in battle

----

Species: Aggron Types: Steel/Rock Name: Mirror Gender: Female Nature: Careful Ability: Sturdy Moves: Stealth rock, Heavy slam, Fire punch, Earthquake Personality/History: A gentle giant, Cliff found her in a terrible slump after poachers had stolen her babies, He caught her and while he tried to find where her babies were, he couldn’t. Though she’s practically adopted diancie as a daughter. Extra info: Capable of Mega evolution

----

Species: Rhyperior Types: Ground/Rock Name: Exoterra Gender: Female Nature: Adamant Ability: Solid Rock Moves: Stealth rock, Earthquake, Megahorn, Swords dance Personality/History: A large pokemon with a few anger issues, Exoterra or Terra has a decent reign on it after help from cliff, Though they still have a few iffy moments and usually work off their anger by sparring with Mirror Extra info: They nearly killed cliff after he got drilled in the gut and ended up spending quite a bit of time in the hospital

----

Species: Gigalith ✨ Types: Rock Name: Geyser Gender: Male Nature: Lax Ability: Sand force Moves: Sandstorm, Solar beam, Stone edge, Gravity Personality/History: A solitary pokemon that cliff raised up from a egg of which he received from a daycare, saying it had been abandoned, Geyser was named for it’s bluish green crystals, He’s decently friendly though prefers sleeping to socializing Extra info: he’s shiny!

----

Species: Diancie Types: Rock/Fairy Name: Alexandrite Gender: Female Nature: Gentle Ability: Clear body Moves: Stealth rock, Moonblast, Diamond storm, Rest Personality/History: A utter sweetheart, Diancie is prim, proper and hesitant in doing most things herself if solely because she doesn’t know how. She was found by cliff near the side of a lonely route few people travelled, Weak and exhausted, She suffers from a undiagnosed illness that leaves her tired most days. if not very ill others, She went with cliff who insisted that going back into the wild would not bode well for her, He is her bonded human and lives in his house, She does have a pokeball but this is only for precautionary reasons and does not use it unless required. Extra info: She can’t mega evolve due to her fragility but hopes to one day. But she’s not used in battle by cliff

----

Species: Lycanroc Types: Rock Name: Peaches Gender: Female Nature: Jolly Ability: Steadfast Moves: Swords dance, Brick break, Fire fang, Accelerock Personality/History: Mischievous and full of energy as if she was still just a puppy, Peaches was a pokemon cliff sought out when he was in alola when she was a little rockruff, Partially because he couldn’t believe there was a tiny rock type puppy and spent MANY hours playing with her when she was still wild before finally catching her. Yes he cried Extra info: She’s really excitable and can jump over a six foot tall fence, so cliff had to get a bigger one around his yard to stop her, the little escape artist

----

Species: Drednaw Types: Water/Rock Name: Snaps Gender: Male Nature: Adamant Ability: Strong Jaw Moves: Crunch, Counter, Razor shell, Ice fang Personality/History: He’s very set in his ways once he gets in his mind he wants to do something, in fact that’s how he met cliff, He decided he’d wanted to bite him so he did and refused to let go when he was just a chewtle (Thankfully) and now he’s a big ol’ drednaw. Cliff warns people about his biting habits Extra info: He will eat a small child if you aren’t watching him, big beefy baby.

#Why did the good times have to end? (Champion Verse/Good end verse) #I will not fail. This is all i have left. (Headcannons) #//AND HERE IS THE VERY GOOD BEAN

[zarcake-writes]

The Deal

PART 2! I hope you all enjoy this. I’m sorry if the smut isn’t as nasty as it could be, I got caught up in the killing scene. And I’ve been busy with school stuff. Anyways, enjoy! Happy Halloween!

Warnings: murder, blood, stabbing, mention of rape, disgusting rapist being disgusting

It’s three days later when the devil- or Lucien- returns. You’re sitting in your kitchen, eating cereal out of the box when he shows up. When he appears with a puff of smoke that smells like frankincense and vanilla, you squeal and drop the box of cereal on the floor. 

“What the- Ah! My Apple Jacks!” 

Lucien watches with a bored expression as you gather the spilled cereal off the floor. “Why don’t you use a bowl?” 

“Because I don’t want to do dishes.” When you realize that there’s too many to pick up off the floor, you sit down and begin eating them. “What do you want? Is the contract finished?”

Lucien makes a noise of disgust at the sight of you talking with food in your mouth. He pulls an envelope out of his coat pocket and presents it to you. “Yes. The terms are all listed here, but I did make some adjustments. Go over them and make sure everything is to your liking.”  

You wipe your hands on your shorts and take the sealed envelope. The deal is straightforward, but there’s been a change. Instead of Lucien killing your ex, you are to assist in the killing. Lucien will inflict the killing blow, but you need to lure your ex to a location and help make sure he won’t escape. 

You look up from the papers and at Lucien. He’s sitting at your table, looking down at his phone. “Wait, why do I need to help you? I want you to kill him and make him suffer.”

“I will kill him and ensure his soul suffers for all eternity. However, I want you to help with this.”

“Why?”

Lucien lets out a heavy breath and slips his phone into an inside pocket of this blazer. “One, because you summoned me to kill someone and I think it’s good for both parties to have blood on their hands. You can’t Pontius Pilate your way out of this. And two, because I think it will be good for you. Consider it therapy, dark, bloody therapy.”

You narrow your eyes at the man. “Fine. But if I’m helping you kill him, you will adjust payment.”

“Oh? Will I?”

“Yes. Instead of coming in fifty years, killing me, and taking my soul, you will take my soul but allow me to stay living. In return, I will do your work here on earth and do my best to convert others.”

Lucien scoffs. “How will you do that? Go door to door asking if people have time to hear the good word of our Dark Lord and Savior Lucifer?”

“No, smartass. I know people who would be interested in working with you and other demons. Making deals, gaining power, selling souls. I bet I can even throw in a virgin or two.” 

Lucien arches an eyebrow and sits back in his chair. He looks deep in thought like he’s debating what to do.

“Also,” you begin, “I’m a virgin. So, that must mean something.”

Lucien looks surprised but only shrugs. “Sexual virginity is really only a concept. I’m more interested in spiritual virginity. The first time you make a deal with myself or a demon is much more powerful than whether or not you’ve had sex.”

“Well, I am a spiritual virgin.”

“Mmm, that you are. Fine. I’ll adjust the contract and I’ll return in a few days.”

You hand him the envelope and nod. He takes it, slips it into his coat, and stands.

“Until next time, my little virgin.”

You grimace but wave. “Bye, weirdo.”

Lucien laughs then vanishes, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your Apple Jacks. 

It’s a week later when everything is ready. Lucien kept his word and changed the payment. He will take your soul in fifty years, but instead of killing you, you will stay on earth and do his work.

Once that was agreed upon, you and Lucien got to work planning on how to lure your ex, Kyle, to your house. It turned out to be really easy. All you had to do was send him a message pretending to be a sixteen-year-old girl. Kyle immediately took the bait. When you finally asked if he wanted to hang out, you were disgusted with his comments. Even Lucien was unsettled. 

Which is how you ended up in your summoning room (now sacrificial room) standing next to Lucien with your ex unconscious and tied down to a huge wooden table. Shackles hold his arms and legs spread apart like he’s an offering. Lucien was the one who handled the drugging and transporting of his body. The chains and table were also Lucien’s work. 

The room is filled with candles like before, but instead of your book, there’s a knife in your hand. Lucien handed it to you when he arrived. 

“Ok, you ready?” he asked. 

You look away from Kyle and nod. 

“I need to hear you speak.”

“Y-yes. I’m ready.”

“Good. I’ll wake him up and then we shall begin. Oh, stand back a bit sweetheart. I want it to be a surprise when you reveal yourself.”

You swallow and nod. As you take a step back into the darkness of the room, your stomach flips and you feel sick. This is it, you think, I’m gonna kill him. 

Lucien snaps his fingers and Kyle wakes with a start. He glances around the room, wide-eyed and terrified. When his gaze settles on Lucien, he looks confused, then relieved. 

“Mr. Lucien? What… what’s going on? Where am I?” 

“Kyle? Whatever happened to you? How did you end up here?” Lucien asked. He fakes his worry and begins investigating the shackles around Kyle’s ankles. 

“I-I was going to meet up with a girl. I think she attacked and drugged me. God, my head hurts. Mr. Lucien, please, get me out of here,” he sobs.  

Lucien nods and glances over his shoulder towards you. His eyes are glowing, and when he smiles, his smile is too wide. His teeth glint in the dim lighting of the room; they are unnaturally long and there’s so many. 

He turns back to the shackles. “Hmmm. Well, I can’t undo these, we’ll need a key.”

Kyle whines and pulls at the metal locks around his wrists and ankles. With a wail, he goes lax and sobs. Lucien watches him with an almost bored expression. 

“Tell me,” Lucien begins. He slowly starts to walk around the table Kyle is on. “What does it feel like?” 

Kyle looks confused and whimpers out, “What?”

“What does it feel like, to be trapped? Stuck like this? To feel so exposed and weak?”

“It fucking sucks! Please, Mr. Lucien, help me. Go get help, please!”

Lucien looks down at him and tilts his head. “It does suck. Do you think those girls felt that same way you are feeling? Helpless? Trapped? Hopeless?”

“What girls?” 

“You know what girls I’m talking about.” Lucien stops next to Kyle’s feet. “The two that we know, for certain, that you raped, and the one you tried to rape in high school. Who knows how many others you hurt?”

Kyle is watching Lucien, a look of shock on his face., a looks “I… they lied! I swear, I didn’t do anything to them! I was found innocent!”

Lucien shrugs off his blazer and tosses it across the room. He begins to circle your ex again. “The court might have found you innocent, but I don’t. I do not abide by the idea that you are innocent until proven guilty. You know why?”

“Why?”

Lucien stops and leans over Kyle. “Because I know every one of God’s precious children’s sins. And you, Kyle, have been a very, very bad man.” 

Kyle whimpers and begins to plead. “Please, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear. I just want to go home.” 

Lucien stands up and runs his hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, care to come out?”

You step out of the shadows and take your place beside Lucien. For a moment, Kyle looks confused, and then he recognizes you. His eyes are wide and the fear on his face is beautiful. You know he’s remembering what he tried to do all those years ago. You can see it on his face. 

“Kyle, do you know why you’re here?” Lucien asked. 

“No. Please, I just want to go home. I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. 

“I asked to go home. I begged for you to take me home. I was lucky enough to get away, but those other girls didn’t. Did they beg for you to stop? For you to take them home? Did they cry out for their mom’s?” you asked. 

Kyle looks between you and Lucien before he begins to speak. “Look, I’ll give you both money. As much as you want. Just… just let me go.”

Your lip curls in disgust. “Is that what you offer people to keep quiet? Money? I’m not interested in money, Kyle.”

“What do you want then?”

You lean in close to his face and whisper, “Your life.”

Kyle begins to scream and thrash against the table. The chains tighten and prevent his thrashing from getting out of hand. He screams and curses you. He calls you every terrible name he can think of, he even spits in your direction. When he’s exhausted himself, his body relaxes on the table. His heavy breathing is occasionally interrupted with a sob. 

A hand on your lower back pulls your attention from Kyle. Lucien looks down at you, a calm expression on his face. The pristine white shirt he usually wears is gone, leaving his upper bare. The slacks he’s wearing hang low on his hips. “You ready?”

“I… yeah, I think so.”

Lucien nods and helps you climb onto the table. You straddle Kyle’s body and grip the knife in your hand. 

Kyle looks up at you, a mixture of hate and fear etched on his face. “Fucking bitch.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, Kyle,” you said. 

“You doing this cause you’re jealous or something?”

You scoff and lean forward, the sharp edge of the knife pressed against his throat. “No. I’m doing this because it’s what you deserve.”

Kyle swallows and whines low his chest. You glance away from his face and towards Lucien. He’s watching you both. His face looks different, wrong somehow, and his eyes aren’t human anymore. Lucien nods for you to continue.

“You know,” you continue, “I read the police report. I saw the pictures of the bruises on the girl’s bodies. I heard their testimonies. But your parents got you off, and those girls were branded as liars and whores. They were sixteen! Fucking children! And you used your age and influence to hurt them.” 

Kyle's face is wet with tears and sweat. He looks so scared, and for a moment you feel sorry for him. But that only lasts a moment. 

“Please, they wanted it.”

“They are children! Children can’t consent to sex with an adult, dumb fuck. You took advantage of them. You’re nearly thirty years old and you took advantage of two sixteen-year-old girls.”

Kyle says nothing, just whines and shakes beneath you. You sit up and raise the knife above your head. Kyle shakes his head and begins to beg for you to stop. You glance at Lucien. He’s smiling and nods for you to continue. When you glance back down at Kyle, he’s shaking his head back and forth, whispering your name. 

The fear in his eyes and the terror in his voice makes your chest twist. He’s covered in sweat, snot, and tears. He’s human, just like you. He feels fear and pain, just like you. And like you and those other girls did, he’s begging to go home. He’s whimpering his mother’s name and saying how he wants to see his younger brother grow up. He wants to live. 

A familiar deep voice whispers in your ear. “What the matter sweetheart?”

You swallow and adjust your grip on the knife. “He… he wants to live.”

“As do those girls. Think about their lives, think about your life, sweetheart.” 

Lucien’s right. Their lives are forever marked. For the rest of their lives, they will remember what he did. His touch will always linger on their bodies and in the back of their minds. They will forever remember the smell of his cologne and the smell of the pomade in his hair. They will always remember how he forced himself onto them and the heaviness of his breathing. They will always remember and fear that he will come back. 

Kyle wants to live, but he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Do it,” the devil whispers in your ear, “Take his life. Do it, sweetheart.”

You tighten your grip on the knife and bring it down hard into Kyle’s chest. 

The first stab and Kyle screams. He nearly bucks you off his body, but the chains around his limbs tighten and hold him in place. You bring the knife down again and again. Kyle’s screams and the sickening sound of the knife plunging in and out of his body fills the room, but you don’t hear it. It’s like a fog has filled your mind and all you can see are the pictures of those girls. All you can see is Kyle hurting you. 

A firm hand grabs your wrist, stopping your attack on Kyle. You look up and see Lucien, a pleased look on him goatish face. He looks down at Kyle and you follow his gaze. Kyle is covered in blood but he’s still alive. When he breathes there’s a bubbling noise from his chest.

Lucien waves a hand over Kyle’s body and the wounds heal. Kyle gasps and coughs. When he sees you and Lucien above him, he starts sobbing again. 

“God,” Kyle whimpers, “Please, help me.”

Lucien lets out a loud laugh that sends chills down your body. He casually leans against the table. “Boy, do you really think God will help you?”

“Yes, he loves all his children. And I’ve been baptized.”

“Well, let’s see if he’ll show up.” Lucien opens his arms and looks upwards. “God! You gonna save your son?” 

The room is quiet, save for Kyle’s raspy breathing and the dripping sound of his blood hitting the floor. You’re not sure if God will really appear, or if Lucien is just joking around.

After a minute or two, Lucien closes his arms dramatically and looks down at Kyle. “Yeah, no one’s coming. One, why would God want to save you? And two,” Lucien leans in real close to Kyle’s blood-covered face. “God can’t hear you.”

Lucien takes your hand and brings it down into the center of Kyle’s chest. Kyle gasps and looks down to see the knife. He looks surprised as he watches his blood soak his shirt. You see the light dim from his eyes, and then his body goes limp. 

Lucien pulls the knife free and drops it on the floor. He pulls something wispy and see-through, from Kyle’s body. You realize it’s his soul. Lucien examines it with a critical eye, scoffs, then squeezes it until it vanishes with a pop.

“Is… is he dead?” you whispered. 

Lucien looks up at you and nods. He helps you off the table, making sure to hold you upright. Your body is shaking and you feel so cold. Everything hurts, your head is pounding, and there’s a burning sensation in the palms of your hands. 

When you look up at Lucien, he’s watching you. Everything about him is wrong, his eyes are goat-like, and there are twisting horns coming out the side of his head. Even his features are vaguely goatish. His hair is long, it’s almost like a mane that comes down to the center of his chest. And his skin is marked with intricate tattoos and scars. 

Despite his monstrous appearance, something about Lucien is strangely attractive. Maybe it’s because you and he just murdered someone or it’s the fact that you’re pressed against his bare body, but you want to kiss him.

Lucien takes your hands in his own and studies them. He wipes the blood away and frowns at the deep gashes in your palms. He covers your hands with his own, then there’s a burning sensation that nearly brings you to your knees. It goes away after a moment. Lucien turns your hands over and wipes away the blood. 

“How did that happen?” you whispered. 

“From stabbing Kyle.” His voice is low and deep like he's trying to speak softly.  

You look up at him and nod. He’s gorgeous, beautiful, and otherworldly with his eyes, the horns, and even those adorable goatish ears. Maybe it’s because of the adrenaline pumping through your veins or maybe Lucien has cast a spell on you, but you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. 

Lucien stiffens in surprise but slowly leans into the kiss. The kiss grows needy, desperate, and rough. Your hands are in his hair, fingers pulling and twisting into the soft strands. Lucien’s hands are mapping your body. A hand squeezes your ass, digging into your soft flesh. His other hand massages your breasts, pulling and squeezing your nipples through your shirt. 

He growls when you begin to undo his pants. You pull away from the kiss when his cock pops free and bumps against your lower stomach. It’s hot and heavy and its shape is inhuman. There are ridges along the shaft and small little nubs beneath the tapered head. A slightly swollen knot is at the base. But more surprising is the glowing tattoo along the shaft. 

You look up in surprise at Lucien who only smirks down at you. Slowly, you take his cock into your hand and begin to jack him off. His cock is hot and so thick. Your thumb swipes over the tapered head, smearing the bead of dark-colored precum at the tip. Lucien snarls in your ear and bucks into your hand.

Eager to please him, you drop to your knees and run your tongue over his head. Lucien bares his teeth at you but runs his fingers through your hair. He watches with wide eyes as you lick and kiss every ridge and bump along his cock. When you take the head into your mouth and begin to bob your head up and down, Lucien growls and tightens his hold on your hair. 

He’s so thick that you can’t get your mouth all the way down his cock, but you try. He grunts and groans every time his head hits the back of your throat. And when you gag, he whimpers your name. 

Tired of your teasing and needing more, Lucien pulls you off his cock. He lifts you up and presses you against a wall. He rips your clothes off your body, growling at the sight of you bare before him. As you did, he drops to his knees and rests your legs on his shoulders while your back is pressed against the wall.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he growls. 

You nod and watch as he presses his mouth to your cunt. His tongue, thick and strong, runs up and down your slit. It swirls around your clit then slips inside of you. He tongue fucks you, moaning and growling at how you taste. His tongue rubs against that perfect spot inside you while his thumb is pressed against your clit. This, combined with his moans, push you closer to the edge. And watching him, seeing the way his eyes roll and the way he looks between your legs, ends you. 

He pulls away from you, licking his lips and smiling. He’s gentle as he sets your feet to the floor. When he stands and kisses you, you moan at the taste of yourself on his lips.

“Do you want more?” he asked. 

You nod. “Yes. Give me all of you.” 

“Oh sweetheart, you’re still a virgin, and you can’t handle all of me. But I will give you a taste.” 

You want to argue with him, but he’s already lifting your leg and lining himself up with your entrance. He looks to you, waiting. When you nod, he pushes into you. He’s slow, and while the stretch is uncomfortable, it doesn’t hurt. You’re glad he ate you out and gave you an orgasm. 

Every whine or gasp you make, he stops and begins to rumble low in his chest. Lucien only starts to move again when you urge him to go on. Slowly, inch by inch, he pushes himself into you. When most of his cock rest inside you, he stops and gives you a moment to adjust.

He’s so big and thick. You’ve never felt anything like it before. You give him an experimental squeeze, and you both groan in unison.

“Please,” you beg, “Fuck me.”

Lucien nods and begins to move. His thrusts are slow and deep. The way he’s looking at you and the feel of him inside of you sends tingles throughout your body. His hands touch and caress your body, squeezing your waist and ass. 

Slowly, he speeds up. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of skin, mixed with your moans and his growls. There’s a wet noise coming from you that would leave you embarrassed, but at the moment it turns you on even more. 

One of Lucien’s hands run up your sides, nails trailing along your skin, and settles on your neck. His touch is gentle, yet his nails dig into the soft skin of your throat. And when he squeezes, barely cutting off the blood flow, your head gets a bit fuzzy, and you moan his name. 

“Sweetheart,” he growls, squeezing your throat just a bit tighter. 

“Luc- ah! Lucifer.”

Lucien growls and bares his teeth at you. In return, you tighten yourself around his cock, bare your teeth, and growl back. Lucien snarls and releases your neck. His hands wrap around your waist and he leans into you, burrowing his face into your neck.

He’s fucking you harder and faster than before. With each thrust, Lucien sends you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth latches onto to the side of your neck, the feel of his rough tongue sends chills down your spine. His hips move faster and harder, the ridges hit every wonderful spot inside you. You're lost in the bliss, not even caring that you back is scraping against the wall. When his teeth sink into where your neck and shoulder meet, you scream. The pain and the pleasure mix together, pushing you over the edge for the second time. 

You cling to Lucien’s body, not trusting yourself to be able to stand. Your legs feel like jelly and it’s hard to focus on anything but Lucien’s warm body against you. His hair is so soft, and his shoulders are so broad. You feel so safe. 

Lucien is breathing hard, his hands run up and down your sides. You smile when he nuzzles against the side of your neck and licks the bite on your shoulder. He’s rumbling low in his chest; it reminds you of a purring cat. 

He pulls away first. Despite how gentle he is as he pulls out of you, you still whimper his name. You watch as his cum slips out of you. It’s dark with a slight shimmer to it, and just like him, it’s hot. Some of it runs down your leg while the rest hits the floor.

He says your name, but you can’t look at him. 

“Sweetheart." 

You look up at him and tighten your hold on his hair. For some reason, you suddenly want to cry. As if sensing the sudden shift in emotions, Lucien smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. He hoists you up and presses you to his chest. He’s rumbling and speaking softly as he carries you to the bathroom. 

He turns on the shower and heals the bite on your shoulder. Lucien helps you stand and begins to wash you. The water is warm, but Lucien’s hands are warmer. As he washes you, he speaks to you. He tells you how wonderful you were tonight; how strong and beautiful you are. When he wipes between your legs, he’s apologies at you whimper of pain. 

“I’m sorry. I got too rough with you.” 

“Did you?”

“Yes. How do you feel?”

“I’m really tired. And sore.”

Lucien nods and turns off the water. He wraps a towel around you and lifts you out of the tub. His goat features are gone, and he looks like he did before the killing. Lucien’s usually neatly slicked back hair is messier, strands fall in his face, and there’s a slight curl at the ends. He’s still shirtless and drops of water are splattered along his body. The tattoos from before are gone. 

You say nothing as he carries you to your room, and sits you on your bed. He turns to look for some clothes, but you grab his arm. 

“Lucien.”

He looks back at you and tilts his head. “Sweetheart?”

“What happens next?”

He lets out a heavy breath and sits beside you. “After I help you dress, I was going to handle the dead body and the mess.”

You nod and look away.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I… would you like to stay after you’re done?”

Lucien smiles and takes your hand. “If you want that, then yes, I’ll stay.” 

He helps you dress and gets you into bed. As Lucien is leaving to clean up the mess downstairs, you call his name. 

“Yeah?”

You quickly pull off your shorts and panties beneath the blankets and toss the panties at him. He catches them and looks at you curiously. 

“Hurry up, Lucifer. I really, really, want to experience all of you.”

Lucien growls and his eyes darken. “Behave yourself, little one.”

“Make me.”

He narrows his eyes and gives you a sinister smile. You giggle and reach for him, not caring that the heavens are mourning the loss of their child. The sins you’ve committed, making a deal with the devil and the man you murdered, don’t cross your mind. The eternal damnation of your soul doesn’t sound like such a bad thing at the moment. Not when Lucifer himself crawls into your bed with that devilishly handsome smile on his face. No, not so bad at all.

#exophilia #lemon #you basically do the devil and kill someone #but he deserves it so don't worry

[ruthlessnessisyourdesire-archive]

Lust’s Last Dance | Demon AU | The Green Woman

Torture. Absolute torture without a brand or limb to sear off his body. Thus the demon of sin suffers this very cheap affliction. It must be cheap if this is what renders him utterly useless. Unable to see causes more chaos than he could ever bring to those around him. With Greed’s swift rescue it left him imbued with angel power. He still feels it coursing through his frame. Even now it could be no more than imagination but the very truth is seen. Figuratively considering!

Envy that prick! Bastard took glee in removing his eyes, marking him with his taint. There was power to it that prevented even his brother from healing him. There is something foul. Yes, he feels that in the following days. 

Sensing the oddness in the air, smelling a curious focal point of demonic energy within his father’s study, Lust moved casually. His head donned a blue scarf. Wrapped around tightly to cover his eyes or rather his empty sockets! Fuck! He oddly has an urge to itch, rub his eyelids but that would be quite grotesque. 

Still he finds it in him to sniff out this strange source of Hell. Something was opened here. What was Elijah doing? He - wanted to speak to him. Really speak to him and not allow those words prior to his leaving to bestow hatred against the man. So in his one moment of letting his veneer slip, Lust sat behind Elijah’s desk, reached for a pen and held it to paper. He huffs. Shit. Never mind doing this the human way. He cast a spell. Lifting the pen and paper in the air, it scribbled what he verbally spoke to it. 

Dear Father, 

I am an ass. A literal idiot. I do not express myself the way I should. Perhaps it has a lot to do with being used by Lucifer. Opening up is not my strong suit but that is something we have in common. I am glad you summoned me when you did. I never would have been able to reconcile with Greed, Wrath or find a family in you. It is odd to admit. While you may not enjoy the title, I have christened you father for a reason just as Connor before me. I would not have found a heavenly mother in Jesse. You brought me into your life, accepted me when you had no cause to trust me. Thank you, Elijah. Thank you my father. And no! I am not going to discuss this face to face with you. Just take the written note. Besides, you know it would be awkward for both of us.

Love your devilishly handsome son Lust Caleb

He smirked. There! Even Aiden would find this humorous.... He frowned. Aiden. His angel warrior. The one he swore his life to. The one he asked to marry him. They still have yet to announce this fully to everyone. Perhaps once things settle down but he despises the idea that Aiden calls himself responsible. How dare he even presume it! No one has given him such emotion or love. No one ever could. He is happy. Never has he been this happy as it is not meant for demons. 

Connor has it with Eli. As much as Lust still does not trust him, believes him to be exactly as Corvus himself... His brother is still happy. If only he could shake the feeling. That something is wrong there. That something is wrong here in this room. 

Lust rises up the chair. Lifting a hand, swiping it through the air, his nostrils flair. The waft of hellfire. It is here. “Father? Did you open hell?” No. He couldn’t have. Why would he-?

“Come oh sin of Lust. I must have a word.”

The demon froze. Twisting around towards the voice, he swiped claws out. Trying to feel out where they are! Right here! They were right behind him! But he touches nothing but thin air! “Who are you?! Where-!? Arghghh!” 

Caleb’s voice fades with his painful groan. A rush of heat licks at his skin, charring as it were Hell’s lava itself. He drops. Down upon his knees he falls. Upon the dirt and no longer the comfort of the Kamski household but somewhere nearby. Yes, he recognizes the smell, how the gravel feels underneath the palms of his hands where he braced. It is on the property. Here is an imprint of power. This. This is the path Corvus once walked. 

He shudders, rearing up with a hiss as footsteps move close. A pair of hands quickly cup his face, fingers sliding in a soothing caress. Eerily the calm settles over the raging demon. Lust almost purrs content. 

“There there my passionate demon. All will be well.” Her voice is honey. How charming but alarming in his ears. 

Those words echo profoundly. Who or what is this? If only he could fucking see! 

“Who are you?” he questions, alert despite her calming approach. Something feels wrong. Just as wrong as Elijah’s office. It reeks of Corvus. 

“I am someone who no longer slumbers.” Explaining only a little, she keeps her identity close just as she did opening up the window of Hell. Kamski could never know the truth of her words. What he must have to enter and face Legion. “I am Jade. A propheseer if you must.” 

Prophecies. He snorts. “You are one of Hell,” the demon hisses, tugging his head back. He rises to his feet, face to face with her and he tilts his head. Unable to see the face before him it makes this difficult. He does not recognize her voice at all. Perhaps he would not know her face. That  is troubling. If she is of Hell then-? “From whence do you come? If you say your slumber has ended?”

“I am a harbinger Oh Lust,” Jade strokes his cheek. Flicking a bit of the fabric attached to his head, she pities his loss of sight. Envy used powerful demonic energy to render it un-healing. Woeful it is. “My will is to help Elijah. I have already told him what must be done. He must face Legion.” 

Legion?! “No. He cannot face Legion!” Is she attempting to cast a trap? “What did you tell him?!” 

“It is the only way,” she seethes through teeth. “I do not come with lies and traps, Lust.” 

Does she read minds too?! “What are you?” 

“The one who rides upon scarlet beasts.” Jade places a hand upon his chest. “And has given Elijah a task to complete. Legion must be destroyed. A much simpler task than facing Corvus himself. Do you remember that time during the war? Facing Cerberus? You should have died then, Lust.” 

Lust. Lust. LUST! “My name - IS CALEB.” 

Oh the angel name. She sees. She reads it well upon him, senses his angelic power making a resurgence. That is why this offering will aide the turning of the tide and lead the to the fulfilled Armageddon. “I mentioned an offering being made to face Legion. Elijah knows this.” Her hand thrusts into the demon’s chest. Clenching fingers around his heart, he cries out in pain, grabbing onto her arm but she twists, forcing him slowly back down onto his knees. The emerald flames dance in her eyes. Mimicking those of a dragon, glory as she absorbs Lust’s essence, feeding on him. “It is you. You are the offering. A trade.”

“G-Greed....” Caleb’s voice fades with his brother, his twin as a last effort. No bond can call him forth as this parasite sucks everything out devouring him. 

“Corvus is alive,” she reveals what she will tell no one else. Revealing it to him? Well, dead men tell no tales. 

Corvus... no. NO! 

Lust drops. Weakly clinging onto her, his limbs become lax, energy sucking away. His infernal soul rips away from his body and leaves him a dead husk on the ground. No return to Hell does he make. There is nothing left to go back. He is entirely gone. 

Jade inhales, watching the glowing angel light dance upon her fingers. The last of the angel that was left inside of the demon melts into her. She turns it into poison, licking her lips after eating his soul. “Hail Corvus.” 

mentioned: @rk800isalive @creatorofclay @soulxism @lethalxarsenal @rxseguided @repliicantceo @detroitfortune @creation-is-chaos

other muse: @ajadedflame

#[Monologue Moods // Drabbles] #{V. Seven Devils} #ajadedflame #[code: long post] #tw: demon #tw: hell #{process > queue}

[fixxofvixx]

POSSESSION - TAEKWOON AU - CHAPTER 7

Lookie, lookie, y'all!!!! I actually finished a chapter of something!!! I kind of want to cry!

I really hope you all like it. I feel like it's been forever.

I love each and everyone one of you and I hope you have a wonderful week!

Please let me know what you think!

🏰🏰🏰🏰🏰🏰🏰

Leo took off down the hallway and you followed, concerned for Ken's injuries. Once Leo reached the room, he placed Ken on the table, took off the necklace, and opened his tunic. Burns and lacerations littered his torso. Except for the burns, the cuts looked just like what Leo had suffered from when he showed up at your house.

------------------------

"Dammit...." You quickly gathered the things from the tables that you would need. Your hands were shaking slightly so you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself. You would need steady hands to patch Ken up. Making your way back over to Ken, you put everything on a small wooden table before washing your hands.

Just as you had done with Leo, you worked quickly to disinfect and close each wound. A couple of the cuts were very deep and it took you a while to stop the bleeding. Your hands worked fast and Leo stood watch beside unless you asked to be handed something. He was silent the entire time.

Just when you were finishing the last stitch for Ken, Hakyeon came in with Ravi. The younger was still conscious but obviously in pain. Hakyeon placed Ravi in a chair on the far side of the room.

"The demons have retreated for now but we will need to keep a close watch. We'll need to heal and then see about Hongbin. What happened here?"

"Same as my injuries, long claw marks along the torso."

"Y/N?" You didn't even look at Hakyeon when he spoke. You needed to focus on the last wound you were stitching up.

"There is no poison as far as I can see but Ken would be the expert in that. The injuries are definitely the same but they should heal, just as Leo's did. W-Will Hongbin be okay?"

"He will be fine until we can get to him. He has the ability to produce a shock of electricity from his skin. So they can't touch him." Leo explained and you sighed in relief.

Once you finished with Ken's injuries, you turned to wash the blood from your hands. You then turned to Hakyeon to ask about Ravi.

"Ravi's are the same?"

"No, his are direct battle injuries."

You nodded and made your way over to Ravi. As you came closer, Ravi removed his necklace and sat it on the table next to him. He had a painful-looking gash on his cheek but it didn't look like it needed stitches. You helped him remove his tunic and saw a cut across his chest just under his collar bone and one more over his ribs on the left side. The one over his ribs would definitely need stitches. You worked quickly and quietly. You could hear Hakyeon and Leo discussing something in the background but you ignored it to focus on what you were doing. Ravi hissed a few times in pain and you muttered a quick 'sorry' here and there.

Once you were finished, both you and Ravi were exhausted. He had held himself so still in order for you to do your work and you had tried to work quickly. Once you nodded that you were finished, Ravi's body went lax in the chair and he closed his eyes.

"No sleeping here, Ravi, my friend. Let's get you to your room." Hakyeon grabbed for the younger man and helped him to his feet. Hakyeon turned to you for a moment, thanking you for helping before leaving with Ravi.

You all but collapsed into the chair next to you, exhausted mentally and physically. You jumped when a hand rested on your shoulder. You looked up to see Leo staring down at you.

"Go get some sleep. I'll watch Ken."

"That's okay. I'm not sure I could sleep, anyway."

"I can put you to sleep if you prefer. You need to rest."

"Ah, I remember you doing that the first night I stayed here. I...." You looked down and fiddled with your fingers.

"It's not harmful to you."

"I........I know."

"Do you?" His voice almost sounded amused and you returned your gaze to his face. But, he didn't looked amused.

"Yes, but I just....like to have at least some control over things."

"I'm not trying to control you."

"I know that and I do appreciate the offer." You stood from the chair and walked over to Ken to check his vitals. Once you were satisfied, you turned back to Leo. "I'm used to being awake for more hours than normal people. The more exhausted I am, the less nightmares I have. I've grown accustomed to it."

Another crash came from down the hall and you backed away from the door. You looked at Leo who was already moving to the door to investigate. He slowly made his way to the door and looked around the corner. In an instant, you saw a long black blade grow from the arm of his tunic. This blade was different than the one you'd seen before. He turned the hilt so that the blade stretched out behind him. You instinctively placed a protective hand over Ken's chest. You stayed absolutely still and quiet knowing Leo would need to concentrate if there was a threat. In a flash, Leo turned back to you, lifted his blade and struck it out towards you. You squeezed your eyes shut and waited for whatever Leo was doing. The last thing you saw was the large black blade coming towards your head.

"That's not very nice, Leo. I think you scared her." A voice you didn't recognize came from your right side. Opening your eyes, you saw Leo's blade within an inch or two from you face. What you couldn't see before was the hand reaching out towards you now being held away from you by Leo's weapon. The hand seemed to materialize from nothing but eventually the rest of the body began to take shape. Eventually, a man stood before you. He was definitely older than you but still young. His eyes were fixed on you but you couldn't maintain eye contact with him.

"You should not be in here. Leave." Leo didn't move an inch and neither did you. You had no choice but to trust Leo. In the back of your mind, you did trust him on some level. Especially with demons or anything of that nature.

"We used to be good friends.....now you're kicking me out? Shouldn't you at least give me an introduction to this young lady?"

"You're right, we used to be friends. But, not anymore. You don't belong here and you're not welcome."

"Such a pity. I could help with young Ken's healing, you know."

"She can heal him just fine."

"And just who is she? You're not known for allowing people into your world, Leo. Yet, you are awfully protective of your new friend."

"It does not concern you. I will tell you one last time to leave before I remove you myself."

The man suddenly disappeared and you immediately grabbed for Leo. You grabbed his free hand and tried to control your shaking. Leo's hand tightened over yours quickly and pulled you closer to stand next to him. You took a quick look at Ken to make sure he was okay. Nothing looked out of place, thankfully.

An invisible hand grabbed your free hand and jerked you away from Leo. You screamed as the man materialized again just as his other hand wrapped around your throat. He stood behind you, using you as a shield from Leo. You looked at Leo as he smirked at the man behind you.

"You think I can't get her back?"

"I know you can. I just wanted to say hi."

"You could have done that without touching me. Do you usually attempt to choke people you want to say hello to?" You tried to pull yourself out of his grip but he just tightened his hand further around your neck and moved his other hand to wrap around your arm. His grip on your arm was much tighter than the one around your neck thankfully.

"Not usually. But like I said, I wanted to see what Leo would do."

"Why?"

"He is usually very stoic when it comes to people. He does his job meticulously. He gets in, finishes his job, and then leaves. No conversation. No niceties. But he was chatting freely with you when I snuck in here. I was curious."

Leo inched forward but in turn, the man pulled you away.

"Well, you have made your greetings so you can release me now."

"Not yet, darling." He pulled you back again and you stumbled a bit. In the abrupt movement, the dagger that Leo had given you thumped against your leg. You looked at Leo but he was focused on the man holding you. Sweat formed on your forehead and your hands began to shake. If Leo wasn't able to get close to this guy, you would have to help him along. If you could create a distraction then Leo could have the upper hand.

You reached into your pocket as slowly as you could so the man wouldn't notice. Once you held the dagger in your hand, you gave him one more chance.

"Release me." You tried to move away again and the man roughly pulled you back and warned you to be still. Gripping the dagger tight in your hand, you drove it into the man's leg as hard as you could. The man yelled out and pushed you. You stumbled and tripped, hitting the corner of your shoulder on the table next to Ken.

Leo was next to you in an instant, pulling you to your feet and securing you behind him. You looked around Leo and tried to calm your heart. The man pulled your dagger from his leg and leveled you with a glare that promised retribution.

"That.....was a stupid thing to do." In a flash, the man launched the dagger at you and you screamed. You didn't feel any pain so you opened your eyes to see Leo holding the dagger, that had been expertly aimed at your head, in his hand. He had caught the weapon mid-air before it hit you. Relief flooded your body.

"The stupid thing was coming into our house uninvited." Hakyeon's voice came around the corner and it caused you to jump again.

"Ah.....Hakyeon....long time no see. I trust you have been well." The man turned to Hakyeon as he walked through the door.

"I was until I noticed there was an intruder in our house."

"It used to be mine too. Shouldn't SHE be more of an intruder than me? What the hell are you doing with a woman in the house anyway?"

You started to argue but Leo squeezed your hand. It was only then that you had realized your hand was still attached to his. You tried to pull it free but Leo held tight.

"Well, she's far better company than you ever were." Hakyeon's lips set in a fine line filled with annoyance.

"Oh, I bet she is." He looked at you and winked. Your free hand fisted at your side in anger. "Fine, I will leave. We will talk later."

"That won't be necessary." Leo watched the man as he calmly walked out of the room. He didn't move until he heard the door close. "Ban him from the house, Hakyeon. Do it tonight."

"But, Leo, he was....."

"Yes, he was. But he is no longer a friend. He's filled with anger now. Who knows what he is capable of." Leo pulled you around in front of him. He took a look at the bruise forming on your arm. He lifted your arm and looked at Hakyeon again. "Ban him.......now."

"Alright, alright. I understand. Y/N, I apologize on his behalf." Hakyeon bowed to you and then hurried out of the room.

Leo finally released your hand but still hovered over you. You chanced a look at his face and it was full of anger. You started to back away but Leo spoke.

"I'm sorry. I didn't notice him in the house until it was too late."

"It's alright. At least I got him pretty good, right?"

"I'm not entirely sure if I should praise you for that or yell at you."

"But....."

"I know. But in all honesty, you did well. I suppose you are finally thankful for this dagger I gave you."

"Well, it is handy." You reached up to take the now bloody dagger but pain shot through your shoulder and you hissed in pain. Leo threw the dagger onto the table and then pulled the shoulder of your blouse down. You gasped and swatted at his hand. He revealed nothing but your shoulder but the action had surprised you.

"You're bleeding."

You looked down to see the scratch caused by tripping into the table. The corner of the table must have punctured the skin on your shoulder.

"Oh." You turned to get some salve and a bandage from the table as well as a cloth to clean off the blood. You removed the blood but it was still slowly seeping out. You were struggling to apply the salve while stopping the bleeding.

Leo stepped around you and took the jar of salve from your hand. He motioned for you to remove the cloth from your shoulder. You complied and watched as he applied the salve to your shoulder. Once that was done, he quickly wrapped the clean cloth around your shoulder and secured it.

"Thank you."

"Not a problem." You looked up at Leo and he nodded. "Get some sleep and I'll answer your questions tomorrow."

You sighed and started to walk out of the room. As you got to the door, you turned back to him.

"Leo," he looked up in surprise but gestured for you to continue, "would you.....um....you know before you said you could...."

"Help you sleep?"

"Yes."

#taekwoon #taekwoon fic #vixx au #taekwoon au #vixx fic #vixx

[autolovecraft]

Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily?

Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age.

Fortunately the village was small and the death rate low, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before.

For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the rejected specimen, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. There was evidently, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus. It was just as he had recognized old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper than before. The hungry horse was neighing repeatedly and almost uncannily, and he did not care to imagine. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant.

The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the enlarged transom; but he could do better with four. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear—which Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he vaguely wished it would stop. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. He could not walk, it appeared, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. The hungry horse was neighing repeatedly and almost uncannily, and he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he planned to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. God, what a rage! Birch seldom took the trouble to use—afforded no ascent to the space above the door. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight. Birch, though dreading the bother of removal and interment, began his task of transference one disagreeable April morning, but ceased before noon because of a heavy rain that seemed to irritate his horse, after having laid but one mortal tenant to its permanent rest. Davis, an old-time village practitioner, had of course seen both at the respective funerals, as indeed he had attended both Fenner and Sawyer in their last illnesses. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever I saw vindictiveness on any face—or former face.

Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily?

Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom.

Birch, though dreading the bother of removal and interment, began his task of transference one disagreeable April morning, but ceased before noon because of a heavy rain that seemed to irritate his horse, after having laid but one mortal tenant to its permanent rest. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as Oh, my ankles! What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness.

At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before.

[fallen029]

Alone Time

Mirajane had spent the majority of her life living with someone. As a young child, she was crammed into a too small shack with her mother, father, and two younger siblings. Then, following the two former's deaths, she eventually found her way to Fairy Tail with the latter and immediately set out to buy a home for the three of them. Even during Lisanna's absence, Elfman was always hanging about. And after her return, it was the three of them once more and, given all the grief they'd suffered together, they all seemed content to carry on that way for the rest of their lives.

But the trauma and it's reckoning faded as time went on and, though they all still recognized the blessing in which they'd been bestowed, the three siblings found themselves out growing one another. Honestly, Mirajane feared at first that she'd be the last one standing in the Strauss house, as Lisanna only found more freedom and Elfman seemed to be getting closer and closer to Evergreen.

This wasn't the case, however, as she found herself calling a Strauss house meeting one afternoon to inform the two of them that, in the coming month, she'd be moving in with her boyfriend.

Not the best received news in the world, Mirajane did convince her brother, eventually, that no, Laxus did not have to come to him, man to man, before this took place and ask his permission, as well as come to an agreement with Lisanna over just how many fights Laxus owed Natsu, as repayment for her giving up her older sister to him.

And she assured both of them that they could visit whenever they wanted.

Only for Laxus to correct that they definitely couldn't and if they wanted to see her, they better memorize her schedule up at the hall.

But she was assuring them that he was just kidding.

Mostly.

While living with a man was a new experience for the barmaid, Mirajane was quick to find that the majority of the time she wasn't; living with the man that was. Laxus was always gone on his typical long, S-Class misadventures and though he spent more time hanging around in those days, completely infatuated with his current relationship, the draw to travel always came calling.

It was weird, the first time he went away for awhile, after they'd just moved in together. Mirajane awoke in the morning, just the same as she always did, to get to the hall early, and they arrived together, him hoping to snag a job before the guild even opened.

Then began a grueling day of the typical grind and by the time she tumbled into the bed at the apartment, she hardly had time to notice it was without the slayer. Through sheer coincidence, the following day was an off day and though she peeked her eyes open just before sunrise, much like she would were she headed to open the hall, it was only to lay in bed for a bit, breathing in the new day.

As the grogginess faded, Mirajane was welcomed to…

Nothing.

Recently, it was usually the snores of her sleeping dragon beside her, but even before she moved in or began staying with him so much, the sounds of the household she shared with her siblings brought a melody of sounds. Elfman always got up early in the morning, to head out to train, but he usually stumbled into many things in the cramped things along the way. And if Mira was off in the morning, that meant that Lisanna had to go in, to open up the hall, so she'd groan and moan loudly thoruhg this, until she had her first cup of coffee.

And that was assuming they didn't need something from her.

Because someone always needed something from her.

There wasn't anyone there though, that morning, as she rested on her belly and watched the time click away on the clock in silence. As the light from the sun changed from early morning oranges to the bright yellows of the coming day, she found herself not speaking or humming either, things she did frequently, even when alone, as not to ruin the current stillness.

It was a laze she never quite knew she possessed and when, eventually, she knew she had to get up, least she tempt herself back into falling asleep and wasting her day off, Mira didn't find herself rushing off to shower or even thinking about leaving the apartment. No.

She knew that she'd like to go and check-in on Lucy, who'd gotten rather shaken up on a recent job and though Erza assured them all she was in the most capable hands of herself, Natsu, and Happy, Gray had more than informed the others that maybe some other faces would raise her theoretical spirits. Then there was Levy, who she'd promised the next time they were both free, she'd head to the market with. And Elfman was still rather pitiful, in the cooking department, so she should probably head over to the house, to cook him some breakfast.

Considering she was off and all.

But Mirajane didn't want to rush to shower off. Go see anyone. No. Only yawned through making some toast and falling into Laxus' nice, sleek couch with little care as to the time.

Everything felt so...distant. Far away. Like nothing beyond the apartment door existed. And did it? Nothing was imminent or required her absolute attention. For the first time in what felt like her entire life, Mirajane was completely free to do as she pleased.

And she was finding that she really didn't want to do much of anything.

Following her tiny breakfast, Mirajane found her eyes traveling around the apartment, trying to find something to occupy her solitude. Still freshly moved in together, the apartment still had a heavy presence of Laxus and very little her, but the man did have a rather sizable bookcase and, as she rose to peruse it, she found her attention drawn somewhere else.

In the corner of the living room sat her mostly unused in those days guitar, in a stand, where it looked just as lonely and dusty as it had in the corner of her tiny bedroom back at home. A smile slowly spreading across her lips, she moved instead to snag it and, when she fell into something that time, it was Laxus' recliner. It smelt of the cigars he puffed and the cologne he wore, but this was just as big a comfort to the woman as the way she sunk right into the fabric, and she never thought it could be so nice.

To be so alone.

But oh, it was.

As her fingers easily found the frets and strings, Mirajane giggled, finally, softly, before humming along to a melody, breaking the unintended vow of silence she'd lapsed into since waking.

"I don't think I saw you at all yesterday," Lisanna remarked the following day. She came in around noon to find her older sister there, as she always was, diligently refilling drinks and taking lunch orders. "Were you feeling well?"

"Oh, I was fine," she assured her sister with a bright grin as she passed with a tray of drinks. "Just took a day off. A real day off."

"A you day," Cana corrected for her around her barrel of wine. Nodding her head over at Mirajane, she said, "Everyone deserves one sometimes."

"I'd wager you've probably had your fair share by this point," Wakaba remarked as he puffed at his cigar at a nearby table.

"Maybe she's been dipping into Mira's," Macao offered.

But Mirajane only hummed softly under her breath and could hardly wait for her, hoping she wasn't too tired, when she got home to the empty apartment that night.

Mira never knew such a thing could be so welcoming.

She enjoyed the solitude for a good two weeks until, one day when she arrived home from work, he was just there. Sitting in her guitar strumming chair, sipping on a beer with a cigar dangling from his mouth. He rose though, the second she entered the apartment, a cocky grin on his usual void face.

"You're," she remarked rather than rush to hug and make over him, like she was sure he was expecting, "home."

Laxus frowned at that. "Don't sound too thrilled."

"Oh, dragon, no, it's not that." Coming forwards then, she did go to hug him though it was much less reciprocated this time. Against his chest, she explained, "I've just kind of liked it. Living alone."

"You don't live alone," he grumbled back as he did give in and pat her gently on the back. "I was literally gone, at most, twelve days."

"It just felt that way, is all."

Grunting, he muttered, "Sorry," but Mirajane was quick to shake her head at this.

"No, Lax, don't be." Mirajane smiled up at him then as she said, "I've actually had a great time. Every night I come home, I've been playing my guitar again and one day, even, I had it off and I just… I'm so happy you're home though. Of course."

"Of course," he replied dryly back and she could tell he was doubtful.

Still, as he took his seat once more, cigar dangling from his lips once more, Mirajane was all ready for him to begin detailing his adventure to her in full detail, oohing and awing in all the right places. But just as she was about to suggest he start and offer to make him something to eat, Laxus was plucking the cigar from his mouth once more and asking instead, "Did you say something about your guitar?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "It's just so quite, with you gone, and I-"

"Did you think," he asked, "that you'd wanna play something for me?"

Her grin felt more natural that time and, as Laxus returned it, she rushed to grab it from it's stand in the corner of the room.

"But," she added her one caveat, "you have to let me sit in your recliner while I play."

Laxus only blew some smoke her way. "Don't push your luck, demon."

Giggling, she nodded her head as she said, "I'm really glad that we're living together, Lax. I love you, you know."

His cheeks seemed a bit rosy then, maybe, as he was quick to take a swig from his beer.

"Yeah," he remarked as she took her place on the edge of the couch, guitar in hand, ready to yawn through some strumming and humming. "I love you too."

#Miraxus #Mirajane #Mirajane Strauss #Laxus #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

[allinlowercase]

If I Could Tell Him - Chapter Three

Chapter Three - At the Beginning

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: Alaska hadn't intended to be slingshot back into 1960. Life doesn't always live up to our intentions. When she and her friend Jackie are supposedly hit by Paul's car, they are by chance swept into the Beatle's orbit. But while Alaska struggles to reconcile her lost future and past, Jackie is unable to contain her excitement.

A/N: Hello there *swings comically elaborate candelabra around* welcome to my fic. Thank you for reading! If you see anything that’s inaccurate in this series please don’t hesitate to let me know. I like to think I do a good job of researching my shit, but I am only human.

January 18th, 1963

I startled awake at the sound of a brisk knock on wood. Looking up from my place in a highly uncomfortable chair, I saw a nurse making her way towards Jackie's bed; I must've dozed off. After determining that I was in surprisingly exceptional shape for being hit by a car, the doctor decided that I could handle the news that Jackie was faring much worse than I. She suffered from fractures in her left clavicle and femur, and the bruises that covered her were still purpling. Although everyone thought Paul'd hit us with his car, I knew that Jackie could've been injured much worse from that semi. Whatever God had saved me from extensive injury had also saved Jackie's life.

The nurse smiled at me from the other side of Jackie, and as she started to check her vitals I untangled myself from a plastic bedside chair, pulling my legs down from their perch on the side of Jackie's bed. "How is she?" I asked when the nurse had finished. She'd been Jackie's nurse for a few days now; her name was Mary. Mary offered me another light smile.

"She's improving, little by little. She just needs to be resting and getting her strength back up. How are you this morning, is there anything I can get you?" she asked. I'd kept up a near-constant vigil for Jackie, and the hospital staff had been exceptionally lax on me. There were, of course, the factors that I didn't have anywhere else to stay, and that Jackie was in a critical condition. But I also came away with the feeling that the hospital staff in this unit were just very kind people. Mary had been amazing while she was Jackie's nurse, and all the other nurses seemed happy and eager to be just as kind. I especially liked the doctor, Dr. Taylor, who'd managed to miraculously check by for Jackie every time she happened to be awake.

I shot her back a smile, a small one. "If you could perhaps bring me some coffee? That would be great," I asked softly. There wasn't always coffee left in the nurse's office, but Mary nodded and promised to be back, passing Paul on her way through the doorway. I hadn't expected him to do as much as he had for us. He visited every other day or so; whenever he did Jackie would sometimes be up. She, of course, thought she was having fever dreams, and I didn't see much point in correcting her yet. She was still fragile.

When Paul found that I only had about forty dollars between us (which as it turns out, can get us pretty far) he offered to help pay. He also offered his couch from his living room and a few other things: would I like him to bring by dinner? The food in the hospital can't be that great. Was I sure I wasn't cold? My shirt looked awfully thin and the hospital, as a rule, was pretty chilly, besides it being the wintertime. Would Jackie and I enjoy sitting in on a session of his band, when she was out of hospital? He already knew that Jackie recognized him and was a fan; she looked at him the way Mary must have looked at Gabriel - terribly confused and maybe a little frightened, but in intense awe.

I hadn't taken up a lot of them; I knew he felt guilty for the idea of having hit us with his car, which he obviously thought caused Jackie's injuries. I don't know, maybe he was partly responsible. But I did know that he hadn't broken Jackie's femur, and that combined with her being in such a bad state had fueled me to refuse his offers of a couch and going out for food. To him, it was an offer to get my mind away for a little bit, but that didn't seem right to me.

"Hello," he started, raising his hand in a little wave. He pulled up the only other vacant chair in the room. "How is she?" he asked, crossing his legs. I shrugged.

"Well, she's been able to stay awake for longer periods now, but it's followed by almost equal bouts of sleep. I don't know if that's better or worse. Mary said she was doing better, in terms of vitals. I think she's getting more lucid too, she's remembering conversations better," I offered. He nodded and rubbed his jawline. Jackie rustled around in the bed next to us and I looked over to see her awake. I offered a small smile, which she tried to return, although the bruising on her cheek caused her obvious pain.

"Hey there Alaska." I reached out and squeezed her right hand, which had remained fairly unbruised. "Hi, fever dream Paul." He nodded, trying to hold back a nervous chuckle. He found it almost funny how little Jackie believed that it was him. "Has Taylor been by? I haven't seen him in a while."

"You saw him this morning," I reminded her; she wasn't the best at tracking time yet. She stuck her tongue out at me.

"Fuck you man, that is a while," she muttered, digging her head into her pillow, trying to make a comfier notch. In the beginning, I couldn't tell if Paul was bothered by Jackie's swearing, but I think he was just surprised. Now he snorted.

"In a manner of sorts, I suppose it's a while," he offered in defense. There was another crisp knock at the door. I turned to see Mary proudly entering with a mug of coffee. Paul raised his eyebrow as I cradled it for a second before taking a sip. "Are you sure that's a good idea Alaska? It's already six at night."

I shrugged. "I'll be up for a little while, besides I just slept. I don't want to be groggy." Paul sent me a disapproving side-eye.

"I worry, about you sleeping in that chair every night and eating mostly from the hospital. It's doing you a disservice, I think. You know I've room at home," he offered. I shrugged and felt Jackie's eyes on me.

"I don't spend every night in this chair. Sometimes, I manage to find a couch in a waiting room," I replied like that made a difference, pausing to blow on the coffee. "Besides, the food is not that bad, I'm not expecting Gordan Ramsey." Paul looked confused at my accidental pop culture slip but didn't address it. I cursed myself. Memo to work on that.

"Alaska no," Jackie piped up from her spot on the bed. I looked over at her, sheepish. I hadn't really discussed this with Paul in front of Jackie before. "I'm bedridden, not dead and I'm not going anywhere. If you're trying to tell me that I'm your excuse to not go home with Paul fucking McCartney, I will beat your ass."

I snorted. "You'll beat my ass? You'll beat my ass right from that hospital bed?" She glared at me in response.

"I'm serious. I don't want you to sacrifice your own well being because of me. I'll feel like shit for it. I want you out of this room tonight, or else I will grab you by the neck and shove you down a shower drain. Do you hear me?" Paul looked a little perturbed by the scope of the threat, but I lifted both my palms up in defeat, not exactly thrilled to be sharing a living space with a stranger. Jackie was right though; I wasn't taking care of myself.

Our conversation went on for a little longer before Mary came back with Jackie's dinner, and shooed us out at her request. I pulled on a cardigan and jacket that Paul had brought me from his house and started my exit from the hospital with him. We started on the sidewalk towards his house.

Feeling otherwise awkward, I started humming. Paul looked at me queerly. "That's quite catchy; you come up with that yourself?" he asked. I paused, panicking for a moment as I realized it was the guitar melody from Miss You.

"Um, maybe? I think I've heard it somewhere, though I can't remember where. Been driving me nuts," I offered, trying to sound as vague and honest as possible. I could lie somewhat well, but I usually needed time to prepare for it; I wasn't an on the spot type. He seemed to accept that though, and we continued walking, making some genuinely pleasant conversation. Paul expressed frustration over his commute from home to the studio, and I told him about my own hometown.

I wasn't sure how to be here without changing anything later on. That sounded silly to me, the idea that I could change the future, but I realized that I very well could. I could try to Yesterday someone's ass and steal their song or a novel. I could hand Paul the lyrics to his most beloved songs right now and go for a writing credit. Hell, I could potentially stop Revolution No. 9 from making its way out into the world if Paul's guilt kept me around that long. It was constantly hitting me, the power of time travel. But taking someone else's work seemed seedy, and I wasn't down for it, so I tried not to do stuff like that: humming songs that don't exist yet.

We reached what I supposed was his family's home. It was pretty, with brickwork and hedges around where the yard met the sidewalk. Pretty standard I supposed; admittedly, I don't know much about English architecture.  As Paul opened the door and let me in, we were met by the call of a man.

"Paul, come in the kitchen," the voice directed, stern but not unkind. Paul shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a coat rack, and offering to take his jacket back too. I followed him into a small yet cozy kitchen, where a young man was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, and an older man stood at the stove. Squinting, I could see the date on the newspaper read 18 January 1963. I kept forgetting what day it was, though I know I asked Mary more than once.

The young man looked up from his newspaper and made a grunt in surprise. He folded it loudly and stood to offer his hand. I took it and shook as he introduced himself.

"Hello there, I'm Mike, this sod's brother. Welcome to the McCartney residence."

#classic rock #paul mccartney #the beatles #fanfic #fanfiction #time travel