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#i was supposed to run an errand for my other sister but ill be asking her if i could do it tomorrow instead
zekizei-ichii · 5 months
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~Taboo main (Gojo Satoru x Gojo Sakura) 13~
Sister Goodwill Competition (2)
"It can't be help if that's the case. I can help them out if you'll allow me to, Satoru-nii" Using her puppy eyes, my doll look at me, eyes pleading that I'll agree at the thought.
Although Father already lifted her house arrest, I dont feel like letting her go to school just by herself. I was assigned to work at the country side and might even need to be out of the country, and the kids wont have any guidance for the upcomming competition, so right now she's presenting herself to do so.
"Im not a little kid anymore, Satoru-nii, I can take care of myself, you know. I might have lower down my guard at 'that' time but I promise, that wont happen anymore, Okay? besides, isnt it the reason why you assigned Kento-kun to Yuuji instead of me? i really want to see him though"
were just hangin on the couch while watching some movie after my long day, consisting of half an hour, talking to the oldies at school and surveying areas that's been reported having more curses occurence than the usual.
I also did not forget to buy her favorite chicken and beer since she's craving for it in a while. She always welcome me with warm dinner, specially after she'd been put under house arrest, but i preffer cuddling with her tonight so why not. she fits perfertly in between my thighs, both of her arms drapped over it while sitting at the cushion that is on the floor, enjoying the beer and the movie.
Im discuss her 'our' supposed to be agenda, since I always bring her with me in any of my mission as much as possible, not unless we are needed seperatly like what happen to her errand at China. It really boils my blood when those f*cking oldies ask for some help, the audacity. However, she just calmly accept her tasks saying that she's doing it for the future generation and not for them, Earning scowls from the higher ups but nothing more than that cause she already warns them that she wont sit back and bare her fangs at them if needed. That's my girl, serves them right.
I was againts the thought, but with the student without any teacher aside from the assistant manager, I doubt they'll be getting enough guidance while Im away. Dont get me wrong, I do not think they lack the ability to come up with plan but still, having them trained by someone has more chances of improving their individual abilities.
"You'll allow me right, Satoru-nii~" looking up to me, she's now kneeling in between my thighs facing me, her arms automatically clinging to my neck while still holding a can of beer. i can smell her sweet breath, herface just inches away from mine smilling sweetly as she try to use her puppy eyes looking directly at mine. she did try use the same thing when she's asking to see Yuuji a couple of weeks ago but I cant give her what she wants at that time, making her cry. So Im currently pondering whether to say no. Her eyes shinning and luring me in. Those eyes are so addicting, as if I am always falling even further inlove with my doll everytime, my feelings for her is basically a bottomless pit. I just cant get enough of her. Not that I mind, Ill even loved it if I am to drown even further.
Sighing to myself, looks like I wont be able to held her here furthermore.
"Dammit, always doing stuffs I love while asking permission are considered cheating you know?" however, contradicting to my tone, my hands starts moving as I pull her waist closer, while the other is reaching her neck as I comb my hand through her hair and bringing her head closer to mine.
"still, you love it right~?" her eyes twinkling while her lips invaded mine. Her free, soft, cold fingers slowly massaging my scalp, giving me small bolts running up and down my spine.
The kissed lasted for a while as I try to imprint every moment of it on my mind.
'I'll miss this while Im away'
her sweet taste linger in my lips as she pull away, her eyes glinting dangerously as she wore this lustfull smile.
little did i know is that she already unbutton my shirt. her fingertips slowly drawing a straight line on my chest all the way down to my abs and now slowly hooking itself to my boxers. My breath hitched sharply as she lower her head just centimeters above my now hard member underneath the thin fabric. her eyes looking back at me making sure that Im enjoying it while she slowly pull down the fabric revealing my hard cock, whose now standing to its glory as if trying to impress her with its lenght and thickness.
"So its a yes, right?~" her lips still wearing that devilish smile asking me before she continue teasing me with that little mouth of hers. Oh I fucking love that litte cavern.
"Yes~" and she starts blowing me out of my mind.
------------
"where are the first year students?" Panda ask as he cant see them anywhere
" i have them run an errand" maki said as they head towards the field
"bonito flakes" telling him that its probally okay
"they are not 3years old who dont know how to run errands you know"
"thats not what i meant. isn't it today that meeting for the goodwill event, the pricipal of kyoto should be arriving today, right? and you know that case where the first year was dispatch, thats made by higher ups that has a tense relationship with Satoru, and the principal of kyoto is part of higer ups right" panda is really worried about Megumi and Nobara
"even an old man wont do anything to cause trouble atleast in the surface" maki reply
"salmon" inumaki is agreeing as to they have no means to do anything to either Megumi or Nobara as the target they have which is Yuuji is already dead
"the teachers have their own standpoint, but not necessarily the students" panda thought as he's afraid that they may run to each other
"are you saying that Mai is here?" Maki look back at him
"the meeting has nothing to do with the students however, its just my guess, but dont they like to harrass people"
~~~
Having Satoru gave her permission to go to school, the doll dress up as its been a while when she set foot outside their owned house, not that she's complaining cos its really her fault why her twin brother and even her father grounded her for almost 3 weeks.
Satoru, her twin brother/lover were fetch by ichiji this morning for him to drop by to the school before departing for his errand outside the country, and he did not partways with her peacefully as he clings to her and even got mad at Ichiji whose only following Principal yaga's instruction. Not only for her kisses and words of promises that she'll do whatever he ask her once he got home that the tall man let go of her and sulking as he enters the car waving her goodbye.
Humming to herself, she drove her car towards the school, happy that she can atleast not be bored alone in the house and see her brothers lovely students, not until...
Sounds of fighting can be heard from the distance as she saw one of the building inside the school collapse. Not really caring much as she though that it may have been due to their training for the upcomming Goodwill event, Tengen-Sama's barrier are working perfectly good so there should be no issue about outsider or curse user breaking in.
She even brought some homemade food she did for the kids and even skips as she headed towards the direction where the building collapse only to find Megumi all beat up and bleeding on his head while Panda and Inumaki is shielding him from the perpetrator, All the while Nobara looks wasted and even had a bullet shot mark on her gym dress but atleast standing without visible wound, mostly thanks for Maki who held her twin sister to the ground, Mai.
Her happy go lucky demeanor shift, as the air around her changes to something demonic.
"What the 'Fuck' is going on here?"
her eyes, although covered with blindfold feels like thousands of dagger that's digging onto Mai's body.
"Ohh Doll...Sensei?" Nobara called out to her but with the Doll's aura which that can kill someone with faint heart, even though no sign of curse energy are leaking from her, makes her shiver down her spine and unable to move from her position.
Mai, whose the subject of such killer aura cant take it as she looks down to the ground, she can't breath, feeling like being confined into a tiny space that is too tight for her.
"T-that's.... uhhh" breathing heavely as she looks for an excuse until Todo whom the one who beat Megumi spoke.
"Its... just a little greeting, a man to man talk should I say also I want to see whose going to replace Okkotsu for these year, well I need to bring Mai with me" he spoke to the Doll as if its a natural thing with him. Not that he does not fear the Doll whose currently fumming in anger, her aura alone are to almost kill anyone right now. But he knows her well that she wont kill a student, but not that she cant harm them. He even sees it as a chance to fight her, someone whose at 'almost' equal footing with Satoru Gojo, her twin brother, whose deemed, the strongest.
The Doll's gaze landed at Aoi Todo, whom she recognize as one of the great future of the Jujutsu Society, specially with his performace from last years 'Night Parade' - a painfull memory arose as her demonic aura heighten.
"uhm Sakura-sensei.." Maki called onto her, trying to already end the argument.
Having distracted by her line of thoughts, Maki, called onto her looking concered, she snaps back to reality as she sighs and rub her temple as she lowers down her aura,
"The Goodwill event havent even started yet Aoi, I hope this is the last time you'll do something reckless like this, or else..." She looked into him as she composes her demeanor again. Its very rare for her to loose composure, but times like this, where kids that her brother takes care are involve, makes her agitated, knowing he wont like it, although he dont really shows it, and cos he loves to be the one who bullies them sometimes. And now she specifically even volunteer to help them before the Goodwill Event and then this happened.
Lowering down her killer aura, Aoi did not push the chance of having a fight with her, plus he have other important things to do.
"yes yes, plus I need to go somewhere, there is....... an individual handshake event with TAKADA!!! If i wont be able to reach the venue on time, there's no telling what Im going to do. Come with me, Mai! "
Dead silence fall into the group as Aoi Todo shows the ticket for the event he is dying to go to. This made the Doll sigh and let go of the issue.
"You are both excuse then" the Doll said as she rub her temple.
Maki let go of Mai as she catch up on Aoi.
"So the principlal of kyoto high is already here huh?"
The doll ask Maki as she looked at the back of the two students going away from them.
"yes. they probably tag along."
"hmm so that's why Sato-nii sama went out early, probably to greet him before he leaves, plus that thing last night. oh well, not that i care if he'll get highblood after talking to nii-sama"
She nonchalantly drop the topic and went back to her care free attitude.
"i better go check on Megumi, Maki and Nobara you can go back to the field"
the two student nodded as they looked at the Doll, move with swiftness, going to where inumaki, panda and megumi are, only to halt hafway before going back to the two female students.
"by the way, I made some sushi roll and Strawberry cheescake. go ahead and eat it but make sure to save for the boys later"
and she handed a whole box of a cake plus the bento box that consist the sushi roll before she hops back to where the boys are, now completely back to her carefree demeanor like nothing happened
"does Doll sensei have split personality?" nobara ask particularly no one but as maki heard the question she answer with a slight frown.
"im not sure if you can call it split personality, but let's just say she tends to snap sometimes" maki answered her.
"huh? she does?" nobara
"yup, why dont we go back and eat that. im hungry already" maki said as she is now heading back to the field. nobara just raised a brow but follow nonetheless.
~~~
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Of Monsters and Men
Chapter 6- Betrayer Moon
Summary: Temeria holds a beast that has been said to have slaughtered many. With the sweet sound of coins offered you’re ready for another wild hunt.
Warnings: lil smut we starting out with, gore and blood as per usual, fluff 
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Outside the winds are cold and snowy as the night cascades its great darkness over the land of the Continent. But none of that holds any kind of significance as you lay in the warm bed of a village tavern, Geralt's muscular body pressing flush against your heated skin. You hold tightly onto the tousled bed sheets as he thrusts into you over and over again, nothing but the sweet sounds of his grunts and your pleasant moaning filling the darkly lit room but for a simple fire in the hearth.
He deliciously rocks you into the mattress as he gently kisses your sweaty temple, sending bolts of electricity coursing throughout your entire being as you await your building climax. With each new thrust of Geralt's manhood into your entrance, you try and hold back a scream but to no avail. He quickly silences you with a heated kiss, both of your tongues dancing in the dark with one another as he pushes your legs apart even more, his large body taking you all in.
He's a lot to handle but you can take it, no matter what he throws at you. Soon he's a moaning mess as he dumps his load into your clenching walls, hitting your own high just the same, you suddenly claw at his back as he pumps himself into you a couple more times before slowly leaning up to take a good look at your blissfully beautiful face. He gently pulls out of you, falling onto the bed at your side as the both of lay in silence, the only viable sounds coming from your heavy breaths and the crackling of the fireplace.
"So, I heard something interesting today." You begin, turning on your side to lean yourself into his chest as he stares at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome features.
"Do tell." He quietly mumbles.
"I was conversing with some of the whores by the market today, asking about what interesting creatures have met their eyes and whatnot. When wouldn't you know it, another Witcher had come through this very village." He raises an eyebrow, curiosity catching his interest quick, "Said he fled Temeria with some miners coin when his ass was supposed to be killing their monster. I think foul play." You inquire, absentmindedly running your fingers over his battle scars, Geralt's intrigued by your words but is honestly enjoying himself too much to care about anything else at the moment.
Sighing in deep content he shifts his golden gaze onto you, "Tonight I will blissfully ignore my problems." He muses, closing his eyes as you continue to lightly trail your fingers against his skin, "Just uh...keeping doing that." A drunken smile gracing his sweaty face, as you break out into a grin while your eyes fully take in his glistening muscular form that's laying butt-ass naked right next to you. Oh, how did you get so lucky with a man like him?
The rest of the night is spent inside one another here and there, until you both fall asleep in an exhausted heap of tangled limbs and messy blankets. The next morning you two get dressed and head for Temeria, Geralt wisely leaving Roach with the stable boy until you both come back to retrieve her, whenever that may be.
The hike to Temeria went rather smoothly, no one to bother you and the cold of the winter weather doing nothing to freeze you, considering you're practically immune to feeling cold, another wondrous perk of being half vampire.
As you walk out of the shadowy woodland you look up to see a large abandoned castle stout upon the top of a rocky hill, thick forest surrounding it. Looking ahead you notice as the trail suddenly dives into the earth, lamps held up by steel poles guiding the way in, but before this you stop to read over a poster pinned to a wooden pole.
"Temeria, realm of monsters and cowardly kings." You turn to Geralt with an amused smirk upon your face, "Well it's nice to know they don't hold anything back." You laugh before turning to walk down the descending trail, Geralt smiling as he watches you go.
Your time in the mines was a quick one, the miners and the kings men on the verge of a tiny battle that was stopped by Geralt's calm inquisition. The high guard or whoever the fuck, lead you and your Witcher out of the mines and into the shadowy snow covered woods, you're guessing with interior motives but nonetheless you follow.
As you're walking next to Geralt, with the kingsmen on their steeds to either side of you; all of a sudden you catch the scent of another being lurking in the shadows. Another heartbeat thudding in the night, then not even ten seconds later do the guards fall from their horses, enchanted by some sleeping spell. Geralt quickly pulls out his silver sword as you bare your opened hands, emitting crackling purple lighting from your fingertips, this is sorcery at play and you know just how to fight it if need be.
"You can put down your sword...and calm your lightning. I'm not here to hurt you." Speaks a woman's calm voice, her shadowed silhouette walking into view.
"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Mutters Geralt defensively, sword still held out in front of him as you slowly lower your hands, dissipating away the lightning. You can tell this mage has come with no ill intent, even if you don't adherently feel very fond of such beings, you're wise enough to understand that not all are terrible.
"Sorceress." Corrects the curly haired woman.
"Witch." He growls darkly, you lightly touch him on the shoulder, silently asking him to calm is unneeded anger, he slowly brings his sword to his side.
"Triss Merigold. I serve King Foltest." She serenely replies. A simple mage.
"So he makes a show of kicking us out...then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so we kill his monster." Proclaims Geralt smartly, believing he's just figured her out.
"Not a very original plan for a king." You add, your brows furrowing in thought.
"It's my plan. My coin. And I don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it." Assures Triss.
"Save it?" You ask.
Wanting to hear more she takes you both into her area within the castle where she goes into more detail about the happenings in the woods. Geralt leans against a counter as you sit on a wooden table, the both of you facing Triss who stands by a desk and chair directly in front of you.
"Six years ago, stable hands statred vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long, citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."
oh the drama, you wanted to laugh when she said that but wisely chose against that.
"Was she pregnant?" You finally ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. Maybe that's why this beast is killing people?
"If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne as Foltest never married." Explains Triss as her expression changes to a thoughtful one, "The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the Brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they sent me here three months ago to cure the creature."
"Vukodlaks are freak mutations." Says Geralt, mind reeling with what this creature truly is.
"They can't be cured." You add as Triss' brows furrow, "A vukodlak is a type of mutated werewolf, its a beast that conceptualizes in the womb of a dead woman, this woman however must be pregnant. It's rare, but it happens."
"How strange, maybe if I take you to the creatures latest victim then you might have some understanding as to what it actually is."
"Worth a try."
Triss leads you and Geralt through the pre-burial section under the castle where all the dead lay awaiting their final home in the ground. The place reeks of death, spices to mask the dead smell, and too many salts and herbs doing their part to delay the decomposition process.
"Two thousand orens if either of you can tell me what exactly killed these people." Says Triss as all three of you scan over the cloaked bodies laying on wooden tables.
"You didn't want the people to know that it bested a Witcher. And you let them believe that he fled with their coin." Mutters Geralt.
"You two clearly weren't acquainted." At the end of the long cavernous room does she stop at a stone tub of white salt and sand, you can smell the dead man underneath. You walk past both of them before standing in front of the tub.
Taking a breath, you reach down to wipe away the white sand until the caved in chest of the fallen Witcher is revealed. You stick your hand inside the opened chest cavity to gather a mental image of what could be missing. You look over at a curious Geralt, "His hearts missing along with his liver."
"Only one creature I know is that picky an eater. A striga." Explains Geralt while you remove your wandering hand from within the broken rib cage to wipe it off on your pants. You then turn back around to face Triss and Geralt, noting how the mages face begins morphing into that of befuddlement.
"Strigas are old wives' tales." She replies, not completely sure of herself.
You shrug, "They're very rare as are the vukodlak, but they can happen. However the only way to make one is through a curse." You add, crimson eyes trailing over the mutilated body of the dark haired Witcher. So this is really what became of that other Witcher, better him then Geralt, nonetheless he fought bravely.
"Someone wanted Adda dead." Realizes Triss as Geralt hums in agreement.
"But the curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster." Triss' head tilts in surprised puzzlement at your troubling knowledge.
"Her daughter?"
"Strigas are female. This striga's a princess." Concludes Geralt with a sigh, his gaze searching for your own perplexed expression as you turn around to face him and Triss who still looks rather disturbed.
"Well then, lets see if this king of yours is willing to let us help." You quip at Triss as you begin leading the way out of the large burial room. "Can't be that difficult now can it?"
——
"Miss Merigold, you were dispatched to settle a family affair, not to enlist a mutant mercenary and a rouge hybrid for a game of sleuthing." Argues one of the kings guardsmen as King Foltest hungrily rips apart a turkey leg, rather disgustingly if you're being honest. He even smells of meat and sweat.
"This is no game, Captain. Tonight is a full moon, Geralt and Y/N have already proved themselves to be invaluable. We believe we can cure the creature." Implores Triss urgently as she vouches for you, Geralt, and her pertinent point at hand. You just lean yourself against the rooms wallpaper as Geralt stands next to you, feeling a bit doubtful that she'll be able to convince any of them.
"You say she's a girl. Then you will refer to her as Her Royal Highness." Directs the kings guard before his other man, who instructed for you and Geralt to leave Temeria only yesterday, walks over to give his two cents.
"Segelin." He says introducing himself before continuing, "I believe urgency warrants flexibility in a court decorum. The Witcher's theory is nonsense. Princess Adda was the people's angel. Who'd wish to murder her?" Implores the man Segelin as his eyes wander over to you and then to Geralt, eyeing you both suspiciously.
"What about her lover?" You inquire, folding your arms over your leather armored chest.
"Seditious rumors. Idle courtesans trading out boredom for jealousy." Quickly replies the kings guardsman giving you a distasteful look.
"Perhaps if you'd call off your guards, if we were able to search the abandoned castle, we could find clues as to who cursed her." Explains Triss, attempting to convince the king. That's not a bad idea.
"Except, these two monster hunters would kill the princess as she sleeps, and collect the miners' coin." Argues Segelin as you simply roll your crimson eyes at the grey bearded man. What's got water up his breeches?
"Call her a princess. Call her a unicorn if you'd like to." Begins Geralt, "She grew inside Adda, feeding on her petrified womb."
"Have you no respect?!" Shouts the guardsmen defensively, the king just continues his gruesome assault on his turkey leg as he listens.
"Mutating. Growing for years till she got so hungry..." Geralt steps closer, the guardsmen laying a quick hand upon the hilt of his sheathed sword as Geralt continues unfazed, "she was forced to slither out. Rotten muscle, bent bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt." You watch in satisfaction as the kings eyes flash with disgust. You've got him.
"An overgrown abortion." You add shrewdly, pushing yourself off of the wall as you walk next to the long table, the kings face cast down in deep thought as the other men throw you nasty glares.
"Enough." He snaps, setting down his half eaten leg of turkey.
"Your Highness?" Begins the loyal concerned guardsmen.
"Leave." Growls the king menacingly, his men nodding before making their way for the door, Triss, Geralt, and you following.
Opening up the door first, Geralt politely opens it, offering his hand for the others to follow out, you giving him a wink as you tail the guardsmen who's last to leave. As soon as you reach the doors entrance you quickly shove the guardsmen into the hallway before Geralt quickly shuts the doors on all of them, making sure to lock it as they shout their angry protests.
You listen to the pounding on the wood as you calmly walk past Geralt to the right side of the long table, leaning your hand onto the clothed wood as he casually rests an arm over a great oaken chair, opposite of the king.
"Who's the princess' father?" Immediately asks Geralt with a curious tilt of his head, the king glaring bitterly.
"My men will kill you two, bastards." He warns darkly, Geralt pulls his arm away from the chair to slowly approach him, you standing your ground while he walks past you.
Eyeing up the plump king, you slowly drag your fingers over the wood while taking small steps closer, "Your threats don't shake me, but it's funny...you learn your sister was murdered, and you didn't even flinch." Your sly remark has the king's eyes staring daggers at his roast turkey, while Geralt hums in agreement, walking himself towards a window before turning around to lean himself on a wooden cabinet as he faces the king.
"But the moment I mention the girl's father.." King Foltest purses his lips together, his eyes downcast onto the floor, "Why were you never married?" Questions Geralt smoothly, the king lets out a sigh as he leans back into his chair.
"You are speaking to a king." He proclaims with no heat is in his words, other then something else that he seems to be hiding from you both.
"That's exactly my point. Why not produce your own heir? Why not kill the striga and avoid this revolt? Why drag this all out?" Suggests Geralt, his brows furrowing together at the strange reason for everything that's happened. You walk over closer to the king, his beady eyes following you the whole time, you've already figured out the possible truth. And why must it be so disgusting too?
Raising an eyebrow, you reveal a small smirk to the glaring king, "Between the three of us, and I would dare not tell...who is the striga's father?" King Foltest appears to want to say something, almost willing to answer your question. But instead he looks to the window as he slowly rises from his seat, bringing his gaze back over to Geralt.
"I remember hearing stories about Witcher's when I was a child." He says, voice low and gravely while eying up Geralt, turning his sullen gaze upon you now, "And that of dhampirs. Is it true what they say? That you're neither living nor dead, unkillable but for silver?" Sneers the sweaty king, anger emitting from his every word, "That the mutations that grant Witcher's their...abilities. Also erase your emotions? Must be." He criticizes sharply eyeing the two of you with hate, "Cause only a person devoid of all heart could accuse a brother of bedding his murdered sister while urging him to kill her." Suddenly the doors burst open, a small handful of yelling guards racing in with their weapons bared, you don't even flinch as a second later the king throws a hand into the air, silently commanding them to halt.
He turns to you then back to Geralt, "Leave Temeria. Never return." His command is noted as Geralt gives him a nod before turning to walk out the door. You follow suit and smile at a nervous guard who looks like he might have just shit himself. The both of you silently walk out of the castle, deciding to make a new plan of attack.
——
Crouching on the roof of the abandoned castle as the wind and snow blows past your face, you slowly crawl closer to the front gates. Where two incredibly anxious guards converse about how much longer their post is until they may leave. Quietly you pull out a loose piece of the castles roofing, before chucking it into the direction of a crow where the bird and the ceiling make a loud rackety noise as they take off elsewhere. To your utter satisfaction the two nervous guards yell and book it down the cobblestone pathway and away from the castle.
Well that was easy enough.
Pleased with your harmless mischievousness, you decide to find your own way into the castle while Geralt takes the front entrance. You find a broken rotting part in the roofs wooden beamed structure where you then purposefully slip through, falling down to the floor, catching yourself at the very last moment as you levitate your body the rest of the way for a silent and painless landing.
The castle smells of mystery and dead rats as you walk quietly throughout the gloomy thing, suddenly your ears pricking to the sounds of Geralt and Triss rummaging around in someone's room down the hall. With a smirk upon your lips you stalk closer, listening to them speak about letters from Adda's mother as they both begin walking for the door.
As soon as you catch sight of Triss' oblivious face do you finally make yourself known, turning your skin the color of bluish pale grey, the whites of your eyes turning to black as your scarlet irises practically glow red. You hiss, baring your pearly white fangs, her face contorts into pure dreadful fear as she lets out a surprised scream. Geralt suddenly rushing to her side, his magic at the ready before his concerned face slackens to throw you an amused glare.
Cackling you turn back into your more presentable self, "You two find anything?" You wheeze as Triss gathers her bearings.
Breathing heavily she practically stares daggers at you, "Oh yes, just a fucking heart attack!" She breathlessly retorts, throwing you a harsh glare as Geralt walks past her. The corners of his lips pulling up into a smirk as he catches your entertained gaze, you smiling back at him like a fool in love.
"You're an ass." She mutters, shaking her head at you while she follows Geralt down the dreary shadowed hallway. An enthralled grin upon your beaming features as you tail behind them.
——
Once back inside Triss' lair of sorts within the castle walls, unbeknownst to King Foltest, the three of you let Segelin in on what they found in the ruined castle. He stands, eyes cast onto the letters, "A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair." He plops the old papers onto a table, "This could destroy the throne." He says dismally while leaning, both hands pressed to the wooden table.
"Sancia wanted Adda to get rid of the child." Says Geralt, concluding all that appears to be written down in those letters between Adda and her Queen Mother.
"It seems she refused. Repeatedly." Adds Triss while you all stare at the back of the man.
Segelin sighs, "And now she's taken that curse with her to the grave."
Triss clasps her hands together, "You've served the family for decades. Was Sancia involved in dark sorcery of any kind?"
He turns to look at her, "No. Of course not." His expression reveals no faults, yet you feel something is not right here. He's not nearly surprised enough about all of this.
Touching a dangling green plant that hangs out over a wooden cupboard, you raise a brow at him, "What was your relationship to Adda?"
He rests his hands casually against the long desk behind him, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant." He smiles, "And a protector, even. We used to talk at great length about her troubles. She could be very naïve."
"She ever mention her brother?" Asks Geralt from his place by the wall, a foot or so away from you and Triss' plants.
Segelin looks down at the letters, "Certainly not like this."
"She was ashamed." Says Triss as Segelin turns to face her.
"Or she was frightened. What if the relationship was not.." He pauses a moment like he can't even bring himself to say it, his eyes trail over the three of you, "..consensual?"
Geralt hums in thought at this indeed interesting bout of information, he looks to Segelin, "You think he raped Adda, then cursed the child to cover it up?"
"Well, kings have done more for less."
Geralt's eyes fall elsewhere, "True." He mutters as you mull over everything previously said. This doesn't sit right with you at all.
You take a step away from the plants, "There's only one wrinkle, though." Both Triss and Geralt watch as you stand almost threateningly in front of Segelin, they have not a clue what you're doing. The greying man eyes you nervously, you narrow your eyes at him, "Your scent was on her sheets."
Triss takes a step foreward, "Y/N?"
Your crimson eyes never leave him once, "Old ones...and new ones."
He leans away from you, "What would I be doing in a dead girl's bed?" He accuses, face shifted into a repulsed grimace. You lean in closer so that your mouth remains mere inches from his ear, he's visibly uncomfortable.
"I smelt what you were doing."
You move backwards to stand in from of the conflicted man, he says not a single word as you patiently wait for him to break. The moment lasts a couple seconds more, you can hear how loud his heart is pounding within his chest. His lip quivers, breathing increasing with anxiousness, "Foltest had no right!" Shouts the angered man while you scowl and step away, "He seduced Adda! Abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging! But he didn't love her....I did."
"You cursed the woman you loved?" Denounces Triss like a disappointed mother.
Segelin shakes his head, "I cursed Foltest, not her."
"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."
"Countless are dead because of Foltest!" Protests Segelin, "He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag your finger in my face."
"If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair." Counters Triss while the three of you stare down the heated man.
"And hurt Adda?" He says softly, "Never. Her memory will not be sullied, not while I'm alive to protect it." Geralt glances from you to him.
"Tell us how to lift the curse."
Segelin pauses a moment before looking defiantly up at your Witcher, "No. Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me." Geralt hums in response.
Fed up with his excuses you walk up to him, he slightly cowers back before keeping straight again, a snobby expression upon his greying features before you crack him across the temple. Sending him falling to the ground in an instant as he plunges into unconsciousness.
"Y/N." You turn to face Triss.
"What? You were all thinking it."
——
Waiting atop the crumbling castle roof where this striga is soon to be, you watch from above as Geralt and King Foltest speak about how you and him will handle the princess. He gives the king Renfri's brooch as a gift for the princess incase Geralt does not live to see the light of day. You watch the king and his men finally leave, letting Geralt enter the dying castle as he looks up towards the roof for a second before turning his gaze for the wooden doors.
Taking the same route as earlier in the day, you soon find yourself in Adda's room. Segelin tied pathetically to the wooden beams of the dead princess' bed as your unwilling captive. Geralt brooding by the window as he thinks of what to do next, none of you truly having a solid clue as to what should be done about this royal striga. You watch when the greying man glares at you, blood smeared across his lips from your abrupt assault not even an hour ago.
"The both of you! This is madness!" He cries angrily, tugging at his cloth restraints, "What are we doing here? What's happening?" He wonders while searching desperately around the room for a nonexistent answer.
"How can we lift the curse." Mutters Geralt, his leather armored back to you and Segelin.
Segelin shakes his head, "No! This is not right. Foltest must pay for what he did." Whines Segelin once more, you simply fold your arms in irritation as the man looks to you for a sign that you care, which you most defiantly don't.
Rolling your eyes, you scowl at him, "You're already too blind to even comprehend your own faults. This is what you get for your childish actions." You mutter bitterly as he glares hopelessly at you, frustration clearly evident on his dirty face.
"Carry me out. I order you." Demands Segelin as Geralt turns around to face the desperate man. "Tell us how to lift the curse." He orders, Segelin huffs in frustration, avoiding Geralt's intimidating gaze.
In a blur of black and grey your hand is suddenly around his neck as his eyes go wide in stunned alarm, your squeeze isn't enough to choke him, but you're hopeful it's enough to change his mind. "I'd advise you to listen well, your life is already standing on the edge of a knife." You hiss maliciously in his ear before releasing him, he lets out a dramatic gasp as his wide eyes follow your every movement.
He turns his attention from you to Geralt as his mouth opens to finally answer, "Sh-She was hiding from the Brotherhood. She sold me a lamb....Sh-She told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it." He stammers, Geralt crouching down to meet his eye level, "And then I recited some silly chant. And then I bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times. And that is all. I swear. I swear. Now please let us leave." Begs Segelin desperately as he fruitlessly pulls against his constraints, your face falling into a frown, understanding immediately what this idiot has done.
"What was the chant?" Wonders Geralt, his brows furrowing in thought while he stares daggers at Segelin who looks down in frustration.
"Uh..It was years ago." Protests Segelin as he tries to think up the chant, "It was Elven. Um..." Suddenly he begins reciting an Elven curse, your eyes going wide in realization as Geralt shares a quick wary glance with you before racing over to his bag of potions, earning a confused expression from the bound man.
"Wh-what is it? The..I...I've done what's been asked. What more can I do?" He wonders in blissful ignorance as you let out a pissed off huff of air.
"You've done more than enough you perverted fool, unless you can keep a fucking striga out of her crypt until a fucking rooster crows three times." You snap while unsheathing your dagger, his face falling in frightened understanding as Geralt fumbles around with his potions, trying to find the right one to take before the action starts.
Segelin's eyes go downcast, his whole aurora turning to pure dread, "You're gonna have to fight it till dawn." He murmurs softly, staring at the far wall as Geralt downs a potion, his eyeballs turning into two pools of inky darkness. You turn, hastily walking for the door as Geralt quickly follows behind you.
"No. No. Come back here! Please. Please! You'd leave a man bound to die in such indignity?" He cries desperately, pulling on his restraints but to no avail.
"You're not a man." Growls Geralt as he takes his place by your side, the two of you walking down the dreary hallway as the snow falls lightly from outside the nearby broken windows, you catching the scent of the beast on the cool night air.
"Remember not to kill the princess, Y/N" Implores your Witcher with a smirk, you simply roll your eyes.
"We'll see if you can last till dawn my love, I don't doubt it." You retort, a suggestive tone hidden in your voice that's most definitely caught by Geralt.
The hallway breaks off into another section of the abandoned castle, you giving him a nod before turning in that direction, deciding it best to take on the royal beast from two sides if he gets caught up in some trouble. You silently walk down the dusty corridor past rotting wood and broken glass, cracked pieces of stone and the occasional human bones.
The enthralling shriek of the striga bellows throughout the castle walls, it's high pitched scratchy scream sounding like a knife that's stabbed you in the ears. Without another thought you race down the entrance-way towards the sounds of a great messy struggle, the princess has found Geralt, and she doesn't seem too pleased.
Turning round another stony corner, you halt dead in your tracks as your scarlet eyes zero in on the striga who's completely manhandling your Witcher, throwing him this way and that, deflecting every punch he's throwing at her. He suddenly rips a lamp from the wall and uses it to crack her across the side of her grotesque wrinkly head. She stumbles back at the violent impact, pain running throughout her body before she quickly recovers, hurling him backwards with a fiercely strong blow.
As Geralt falls onto his back you swiftly race down the hallway as the striga climbs on top of his armored body. She doesn't hear you coming, or when you electrocute her without warning, sending her flying into the nearby wall as she screeches in pain. You stop to help Geralt up, your right hand crackling with energy as he stands and glances down at the light emitting from it, then over to the pissed off princess. Who almost immediately recovers from her abrupt assault, she stands, her umbilical cord dragging as she stalks over towards the two of you.
In an instant she charges, a piercing scream sending your ears into agony at the frantic noise as Geralt lunges for her, grabbing her shoulders as he throws her against the brick wall.
For the next couple hours would you and Geralt take turns beating on the striga, down this hallway and that, into doors and wooden walls, crashing into cabinets and breaking more cracked windows through the struggle. Every fucking time she would recover and throw it back at you ten fold, like nothing had even happened in the first place.
Racing across the hall to Geralt's aid, you electrocute the royal beast just before she's about to bite into his exposed jugular, she falls back as you get closer, preparing to hopefully knock her ugly face unconscious for a while. You're slowly getting more and more fatigued with every couple minutes that fly by, this fucking striga giving you a real run for your money. No matter how much stamina you have.
But as you get within a few feet from her, she whips around, slashing you across the face with her razor sharp claws. Sending you flying into the wall as a hot stream of blood pours out of your freshly opened wounds. Dazed, you try and raise yourself from the ground and watch as Geralt gets pinned down by the striga once again. You blink back your blurry vision, painfully raising your hand as lightning brightly emits from your opened palm and fingertips just as Geralt uses his magic to break the stone flooring from right out under him.
Himself and the striga immediately falling through the broken floor and straight to the crypts below. Rising to your feet, you can feel as your facial wounds begin to fuse the skin back together again, your injury a thing of the past except for the strips of blood that mark it's path.
You hastily limp over to the hole in the ground, looking down to find Geralt laying in the rubble before slowly getting up. Without another thought, you jump down, landing hard on a pile of rocks as the unconscious striga lays motionless next to you. Pulling yourself up from the wreckage, you tiredly shuffle over to the center of the room as Geralt puts an enchantment onto the doorways so that the creature cannot escape.
"I don't know about you but I could think of ten different ways we could have spent tonight." You jest, breathing heavily as you hold onto your aching side, Geralt hums in reply before turning around and freezing, his face morphing into wariness as he gives you a concerned look. You turn around to see what's bothering him, only to find absolutely nothing, which is most definitely the problem.
"Oh fuck." You whisper as Geralt cautiously walks over to you, the both of you looking around the room as you stand back to back.
You hear a dull rapid thudding of a heartbeat before suddenly the striga jumps down from the crumbling ceiling to pounce at Geralt, she lands, whipping her hand across your chest as she picks him up, throwing him into the nearby stone pillar. You stumble back at the abrupt impact, watching as Geralt gets his ass beat by the pissed off striga, it throws him into another pillar, quickly turning around to race for the open doorway. But before it can get through, the white force field knocks her back, she snaps around once more shrieking in rage, bolting on all fours towards Geralt.
You pull your bruised and tired body onto your feet, reaching your hands out to send volts of hot white lightning into the vessel of the striga, sending her into a cruel stone pillar as she screeches in misery. When you look to your left a beautiful streak of orange sunrise emits from an opened spot in the roof, you breath heavily as the striga and Geralt take notice of the sunlight. Your eyes go wide as the creature races for the safety of her dirty crypt, you trailing behind her as Geralt jumps to his feet to follow.
Your boots pound against the gravely stone of the abandoned crypts as you valiantly throw yourself onto the furious princess while she attempts to launch herself into her resting place, she falls into the wall as your hands smack onto the cracked floor.
"Get in the fucking crypt!" You scream at Geralt as he makes a mad dash for the opened tomb, heeding to your rushed words without a second thought.
You watch as he falls into the stony coffin and shutting it just as the striga launches herself onto the thing, her cries and horrid wails sounding noisily throughout the large drafty room. Picking up a fist sized rock you chuck it at her, cracking her perfectly across the back of her grotesque head.
"Your royal pain-in-the-ass, come and get me." You taunt, lightning crackling from your fingertips as the angry princess snaps her attention to you.
She jumps down and immediately pummels you into the rocks as you send harrowing sparks of electricity into her body that thankfully throws her backwards, your vision going blurry once again. Gods your head hurts. Dark spots cloud your sight as you rest on the rocks in exhaustion, your side most definitely hurting as your eyes flutter closed.
You awaken to the sounds of Geralt as he opens up the tomb and steps out to walk over towards the princess, a concerned and astonished expression crossing over his dirty features. Pushing some ruble from your legs you finally stand and slowly walk down the small stairway as Geralt leans down to see if the princess is actually okay, considering her naked mud covered self is facing away from you both.
You can hear as her heartbeat picks up in pace, but before you're able to warn him, the princess turns around and in a confused rage pins him to the ground just as she sinks her teeth into the side of his neck. She falls back in fear as Geralt's pained gaze finds your own bloody face while you race to his side. Your eyes going wide as he lays upon the stony ground, blood seeping out from his mouth and ripped neck as you try and put pressure on it.
Tears slowly begin building up in your shimmering irises, "No. No. No...Geralt, look at me...look at me." You desperately plea as his golden eyes try and stay open for you, but he's slipping as more blood spurts out from his wounds, "Don't you fucking leave me you prick, not now of all times, or places. Geralt!" You cry as his eyelids flutter shut, his breathing slowing down as you try and cover his bleeding neck the best you can, not sure what to do. If you leave and try to get help he'll bleed to death, but if you stay then his chances are less grim but still uncertain.
Your mind swirls with what's the best course of action when suddenly you hear the rushed steps of Triss coming to your aid, and just in the nick of time.
——
Leaning yourself into the welcoming comfort of Triss' plush lounge chair, you watch as she mixes some more healing ingredients into a marble bowl at her work counter. You touch the side of your torso where a white linen wrap tightly hugs around your aching side where you fell on Geralt's silver sword. It throbs under your soft touch, but due to your immaculate healing capabilities your wounds will not bother you in a couple days time.
Turning your head lazily to the right to find a sleeping Geralt laying on the bed, recovering from his own injuries, you idly smile at his peaceful yet considerably less dirty form. Suddenly his eyes fly open, a puzzled expression upon his handsome features as Triss calmly turns around.
She smiles fondly at him, "Your scars. You heal quite nicely, if not for Y/N's blood you would most certainly be dead." She concludes knowingly as Geralt gives her a confused look, "She dropped some of her blood into your wounds to speed up the healing process. It was more effective then I had first realized." He turns to face you, a relieved sigh escaping from his parted lips.
You smile back at him, "Don't worry about the princess, she'll be fine, Triss has arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele." You chime in with a shrug, "Also she had her first bath."
"You should know Foltest issued a statement. The honorable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. Miners are gathering ore for a statue." Adds Triss with a grin as Geralt attempts to get up, "Anyone else would've killed the princess. You both chose not to." She finishes as Geralt painfully rises into a sitting position, a grimace upon his sweaty face.
"We'll take our coin now. I need to get back to my horse." Grunts your eager Witcher as he sits on the side of the bed, pressing his hand against his wrapped torso. Triss only grins in reply, walking over to hand him the leather sack of coins. He quickly takes it with a nod, Triss turning to flash you a knowing smile before excusing herself from the area.
Turning to Geralt with a frown, you search for his eyes as they glance around the room before landing on you, "Lay down you idiot, I watched you bleed out and go as pale as a ghost." You lightly argue, he sets the coins onto the makeshift bed as he finds your frowning gaze once more, "If I hadn't been there to give you some of my blood...fuck...you'd be dead. So don't you dare try and get up or I'll give you a reason to be in pain."
His stern face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin, "I'd rather not face your wrath my dear, although I wouldn't mind a couple more hours here if you decide to lay next to me." He suggests with pleading eyes, ones that know exactly how to win you over.
Leaning into the soft back of your seat, you cross your arms over your chest, "You're sweating, honestly still smell a bit, and your sheets are stained with blood..." You add with an inquiring raise of your brow, "How could I ever say no to such an alluring offer?" He breaks out into a beaming smile at your humored words, his heart just about fluttering in his muscular chest as you suddenly rise to your feet, walking over to him before crawling over to his other side near the wall. You turn to face him, a hand propped up against your head while you watch him lay down once again. His back touches the mattress as he turns his head to face you, a blissful smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
"Yes. That's the face right there, the suave steely golden eyes that I've fallen in love with. No matter how beat up you get...you still make me feel things."
"What kind of things, hmm?" He wonders with a lazy smirk as he watches your face break out into a small smile.
Trailing your delicate touch over his old scars, you look over to him with tired eyes, "Things I wouldn't even dare share with the very stars in the sky, nor the moon herself. And I tell her everything." You muse before leaning over to kiss his exposed shoulder. You listen as he hums in delight while you scoot yourself close enough that your whole body is flush against his, "Just sleep for now, love. You've had quite the rough night...and that's putting it lightly. I honestly thought for a moment that...that uh...I might have lost you." He searches for your hand, holding it tightly as a small way to comfort you while he locks eyes with your own downcast ones.
"I wouldn't dare think of ever leaving you alone in this world, not for a second. Y/N you mean more to me then all the coins and jewels combined, more then...uh..."
Laughing you shift your face to gently kiss his bare shoulder before looking up at him once again, "Geralt, there's not a lot of things that you love. That's honestly some short list you've got there...but it matters not, I'm your favorite person in the world and that's all I need to know."
He smiles adoringly at your closing eyes, sleep tenderly calling to you by the second as you hug him closer. He stays silent, wanting to listen to the calming thumps of your relaxed heart beat as your mind drifts into slumber. Closing his own tired eyes, he finally lets sleep take him into darkness where no monsters of any kind wait to hurt him. He's safe in your arms as you're safe in his, the two of you blissfully enjoying one another's company after a taxing hunt.
-
Tagged: @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)
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misscampacyn · 3 years
Text
Imagine Geralt meets (you) Jaskier’s sister for the first time.
Geralt was sitting in the farthest booth away from the other patrons watching who entered the tavern and who left. You enter the tavern glancing around until you spot who you are looking for, the witcher. Determined you walk towards his booth, not afraid of him whatsoever.
“Are you Geralt of Rivia?”
Geralt look up at you and frowns only confirming your question. “I am looking for my brother, he’s a bard,” Geralt stiffens wondering if you are looking Jaskier. Not getting an answer for the man you assume he might be a mute.
“His name is Jaskier.”  
Geralt look you over inspecting you, finding that you do look like Jaskier. “You look like him.”
You pause surprised that the witcher had finally spoken. “Have you seen him?” “He is at the brothel,” he says causing you to frown, “typical spending his coin in useless things.”
Geralt holds a smirk, and you sit across from him. “I’ll wait for him here if you don’t mind,” Geralt only nods knowing that since you are related to the bard you would probably be stubborn and persistent.  You glance over the witcher’s handsome face.
“You don’t speak much do you?”
Geralt looks into your eyes sensing the amusing undertone of your voice, but he just grunts. Causing you to grin, “Jaskier said you were rough around the edges.”
Geralt frowns not knowing that Jaskier was in contact with you, or even if he had a sister. Without knowing Geralt smiles at you, finding you quite endearing. You on the other hand look back to find Jaskier entering the tavern, you rapidly stand up and approach your brother. You two hug and you scold him for going to the brothel. Jaskier glances to his friend who is staring at the two of you.
“Why did you tell her I was at the brothel?”
Geralt shrugs. You let go of your brother and sit back on the seat across form Geralt. Jaskier pushes you to scoot over sitting across form his friend now.  
“This is (Y/N) my dear baby sister.”
You reach you hand out to Geralt and shake his hand. He holds your hand for a few seconds after the handshake and stare into your eyes.
“You have beautiful eyes.”
Jaskier looks to his friend to his sister, sensing some romantic tension. You look into the witcher’s golden eyes, you blush.
“Thank you, so do you.”
Jaskier clears his throat to call for both your attention, “(Y/N) it is nice of you to come see me.”
“I heard a witcher and a bard had arrived in town and I came in search of you,” you say simply.
“Does mother know you came to the tavern?” asks Jaskier.
You raise your eyebrow and look at your brother, “no she would have tied me to a chair if she had known.”
Jaskier nods knowing that you were telling the truth. Geralt sits and listens to the siblings.
“When will you be leaving again? Are you here to hunt a monster?” you ask.
“Just passing through,” says Jaskier.
You nod, “you’re leaving tomorrow?”
Jaskier looks over at Geralt, “yes,” he answers clearly.
You nod understanding, “mother send me to run some errands, she would love to see you Jaskier,”
Jaskier shakes his head, “no, nope not going to visit that woman.”
You purse your lips but say nothing. She looks over at the witcher who is looking at her brother. You let out a breath and nudge Jaskier to get out of the booth.
“I must go, I’ll see whenever you come back in town.”
Jaskier get out of the booth and helps you do that same. Once you stand Jaskier pulls you into a hug, Geralt looks at them as they embrace.
“She will not be coming with us?” ask Geralt without thinking.
Jaskier frowns and looks at the man as if he had grown another head. “You don’t like me traveling with you now you want her to travel with us?” he asks incredulously.
“I cannot I have to stay with my mother, she is ill, and I need to look out for her,” you defend.
Geralt lowers his head embarrassed for speaking out loud now the bard was going to be pocking fun of him. You said your goodbye and left the tavern to complete the errands you were supposed to be doing. Once you were gone Jaskier turn to Geralt and grins.
“You like her,”
Geralt rolls his eyes but ignores the bard. Yup, he was smitten by you, hopelessly.
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mikauzoran · 3 years
Text
Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Six
Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Six: Home
For the first week after the wedding, Luka and Adrien didn’t leave the house, let alone their bedroom, much.
They got out more the second week, visiting the clearing by Luka’s bend in the river several days and going into town to run errands for the family as well as to show Adrien around to help him get his bearings and introduce him to people.
Even still, Luka didn’t let Adrien out of his sight while they were out and about, sticking close by and keeping a sharp eye on the people around them when they were in public places.
“Do you think I need to start wearing my knife out?” Adrien inquired one evening at the beginning of the third week.
Luka gave a start, cocking his head in confusion. “Why? Do you feel unsafe?”
Adrien gave his head a shake. “Not at all. Everyone’s either civil or avoids me. More often than not, people are friendly. No one’s been hostile,” Adrien assured, giving his husband’s bicep a light squeeze. “It’s just that you’re always so tense when we go out, like you’re afraid someone’s going to jump out of the bushes and attack.”
Luka averted his eyes, cheeks taking on a salmon hue in his embarrassment. “I’m sorry if my behavior has given you the wrong idea. I just…worry too much.”
Adrien leaned in to give Luka’s cheek a bolstering lick. “Would it make you feel better if I was armed?”
Luka frowned, his expression turning skeptical. “My Love…I don’t want to sound patronizing, but what would you realistically do with a weapon, if you wore one?”
Adrien shrugged. “Not much if someone used magic on me, but, if it were a physical attack, I could defend myself.”
Luka’s skepticism morphed into indulgent affection as he reached up and stroked Adrien’s hair. “Adrien, that’s a nice idea, but…”
Adrien’s eyebrow quirked. “But what? You don’t think I could?”
“I didn’t say that,” Luka replied gently with that same glint in his eye, that of a parent humoring a child.
Adrien frowned. “Luka, I realize that I’m a comparatively fragile being to you, but I’m not defenseless. I’m an accomplished swordsman, and I’ve been trained in hand-to-hand combat. I can protect myself, so please stop babying me. I don’t appreciate it.”
Luka’s pale blue eyes widened in surprise, and he rushed to repair the damage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I was looking down on you. I’m sure you’re right that you’re very capable, but my world is a dangerous place, and you’re not accustomed to it, so I worry about you.”
Adrien fixed his husband with a gaze brimming with determination. “Well, it’s my world now too, so I’m going to have to get accustomed to it, don’t you think?”
Luka grimaced, biting at the inside of his cheek. “I suppose that’s true, but…Adrien, I love you, and the thought of something happening to you makes me feel physically ill.”
Adrien’s expression softened as he reached up to cup Luka’s cheek. “Orpheus, I understand that I’m never going to be as strong as your people. I know that I seem ‘breakable’ to you, but I really need you to start trusting me.”
“Adrien—” Luka began to protest, but Adrien placed his thumb over Luka’s lips and shook his head.
“Shh. Yes, I know you trust me, but…maybe what I mean is that I need you to believe in me,” he clarified, eyes pleading with his mate. “Back at court, no one ever believed in me. They treated me like a child and always looked down on me. They spent all that time educating and training me, but no one actually believed I could do anything with all that knowledge. No one ever gave me the chance to prove myself.”
Luka’s eyes widened in understanding, and he began to nod.
Adrien took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. “…I guess what I’m asking you is to give me a chance. We’re supposed to be partners, right?”
“Absolutely,” Luka confirmed, taking Adrien’s hands in his own and giving them a squeeze of solidarity.
“Then treat me as your equal,” Adrien entreated. “I don’t want to be babied and coddled and protected from everything anymore. I want you to treat me like a competent human being. I’m pretty sure I could be one if someone gave me the opportunity.”
“…Okay,” Luka breathed, resolving to do his best to take a step back and let go. “I…” He swallowed hard. “I believe in you.”
“Thank you,” Adrien whispered, eyes going damp with gratitude as he leaned in to press his lips to Luka’s. “That’s the best gift anyone could ever give me.”
 Step one of learning to believe in Adrien took the form of sparring matches where the young prince completely took Luka by surprise.
“You’re…” Luka struggled to find the word from his position on the ground where Adrien had laid him out flat by blocking Luka’s swing and then sweeping Luka’s legs out from under him.
“…Phenomenal?” Adrien suggested smugly as he pulled his shirt back on. “Inspiring? Incredibly good looking?”
“Definitely that last one,” Luka chuckled, accepting Adrien’s hand up only to tug his husband down to the ground with him.
“Cheating,” Adrien pouted, leaning in to nip Luka’s earlobe.
“You’re actually quite proficient at unarmed combat,” Luka remarked, pleasantly surprised.
Adrien gave a snort. “I mean, I told you so.”
“Yes,” Luka agreed, “but I’m used to mortals bragging and overselling their skills.”
“Do I seem like a braggard to you?” Adrien clicked his tongue, feigning offense as he quietly relished Luka’s impressed approval.
“Never,” Luka assured, tussling Adrien’s hair and massaging his scalp.
Adrien luxuriated in the attention for almost a full minute before cracking his eyes open and grinning impishly. “Wanna get your butt kicked by a mortal again?”
“Yes please,” Luka whimpered. “It’s unbelievably attractive when you kick my butt.”
 The next step in learning to believe in Adrien came when Max, Alix, Kim, and Ondine started paying him regular visits.
At first, it made Luka extremely nervous to watch his mate roughhousing with the others. Kim in particular made Luka uneasy because Kim didn’t treat Adrien any differently from a fae whereas the others were a little more cautious around the mortal.
The discomfort gradually faded, however, as Luka watched Adrien goof around with his new friends without some tragedy transpiring.
Slowly, Luka learned that he didn’t have to worry so much. Things were okay. Nothing bad was going to happen to Adrien, and even if Adrien weren’t strictly “safe”, he could still take care of himself.
Luka had gotten to know Adrien’s vulnerable side when the weeping prince had come to Luka’s clearing for refuge and shared his fears, sorrows, and insecurities with the kelpie. What Luka hadn’t seen before was Adrien’s strength, Adrien’s resilience, and Adrien’s courage.
It was breathtaking getting to know this new side of his mate, and Luka found himself falling all over again for this spunky, capable, mischievous Adrien—and just as hard as he had for the sensitive, compassionate, thoughtful boy he’d become enraptured with three months before.
Eventually, Luka got comfortable enough that Adrien could venture out on his own or with others without Luka fretting too much.
 Adrien quickly found his place within the Couffaine family.
Rose continued to adore her new brother and patiently taught him everything he needed to know about cooking and cleaning and basic home upkeep.
They often went into town together and hung out in Rose’s favourite clearing by a charming bend in the river where the tributary turned into more of a trickling brook.
Rose introduced Adrien to her friends, and, soon enough, Adrien had a devoted little following among the naiads, dryads, and other nymphs.
Unfortunately, Rose and Adrien’s sudden close friendship made Juleka feel threatened because of all the time Rose was spending with the mortal. This tension, on top of the resentment Juleka already felt towards Adrien for supposedly taking her brother away from her, did not make things any smoother between Adrien and his mate’s sister.
Anarka quickly warmed to Adrien, though. As she got to know him better and saw how Luka and Adrien were together, it was easier for her to set aside her earlier misgivings about the relationship.
Adrien soon found his place in fae society by serving as Anarka’s intern as she went about her clan leader duties.
Since Adrien had been raised and educated to one day become ruler of his kingdom, he knew a fair deal about government and policy. He found it fascinating to study the ways in which a democracy differed from a monarchy, and he discovered that he really enjoyed following Anarka around, observing how she interacted with her constituents, and acting as a sounding board to help her come up with creative solutions to the various problems the community faced.
“I can’t tell you how nice it is that one of my kids is finally taking an interest in my work,” Anarka guffawed over dinner one night, clapping Adrien proudly on the back. “Dri has a real knack for government!”
“Of course he does,” Luka readily agreed, smiling in satisfaction at his mother’s praise of his mate. “He’s intelligent, a fast learner, kind-hearted, and resourceful. It’s not surprising that he’s a natural.”
Rose gave Adrien’s hair a playful tussle, cooing, “That’s our boy!”
Adrien looked to Anarka, tentatively inquiring, “I wouldn’t be eligible to someday run for a government position, would I? There isn’t some way I could get…like…fae citizenship or something?”
Anarka bit her lip, considering. “I don’t recall anything like this ever coming up, so I’m not sure, but…if this is something you’re interested in pursuing long-term, stick with me. I’ll help you get your feet wet. Maybe then, in a few years, people will recognize you and be familiar with the kind of work you do. If enough people support you and want you to represent them, I don’t see why you being mortal should be a problem. We’ll get them to accept you into the community before too long, Mon Poisson,” she assured, resting a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry.”
“Thank you, Capitaine.” Adrien beamed, overflowing with delight at feeling like he had finally found a place where he belonged.
The sensation left him when Juleka spoke up.
“If you want to work in government so much, why don’t you just go home?” she asked, tone honestly curious and devoid of any of the usual spite. “I mean, you’ve got a whole kingdom to run, don’t you?”
Adrien’s gaze dropped to his plate. He could still feel Juleka’s inquiring eyes on him, and it made his cheeks burn as he bashfully mumbled, “That place isn’t my home.”
“His home is with us,” Anarka confirmed, shooting a reproving look her daughter’s way.
Juleka put her hands up in surrender and dropped the topic, not pressing any further.
“Who wants blackberry cobbler?” Rose interjected, trying to restore peace and balance. “Dri and I just made it this afternoon, and it’s scrumptious.”
Under the table, Luka gave Adrien’s knee a supportive squeeze, eliciting a tired smile from Adrien who placed his hand on top of Luka’s and squeezed back.
 Time gradually slipped by, and the leaves morphed from vibrant green to blood red, burnt orange, and saffron yellow before fading to mottled brown and drifting down to coat the forest floor in a crunchy layer of debris.
Winter snuck in, putting a prickly chill into the air as it entered Adrien’s lungs.
Small clumps of ice began to form in the water, and Adrien started to worry about the lake freezing, trapping him underneath.
“Little Prince, you’re not going to drown,” Luka coaxed, pulling his mate in closer one night when Adrien awoke from the recurring nightmare.
“I feel like I can’t breathe,” Adrien whimpered.
“Here. Let me share some of my air,” Luka offered, pressing his lips to Adrien’s.
“…S-Sorry,” Adrien panted when they broke apart. “I feel like such a baby for freaking out like this.”
“No, Adrien,” Luka cooed, smoothing his husband’s hair. “It’s okay. It’s a perfectly understandable fear. Nothing to be ashamed of…but there’s no need to worry. The lake never freezes solid, and my powers protect you. You’re perfectly safe.”
Adrien snuggled back into Luka’s chest and exhaled an enormous sigh. “…My mother drowned.”
Luka craned his neck to try to get a glimpse of Adrien’s expression as he whispered a stunned, “What?”
“Almost seven years ago. When I was thirteen,” Adrien added softly. “I was terrified of taking a bath for a couple months afterwards.”
“You never said anything,” Luka accused, thinking back with dread to all the times he’d joked about drowning Adrien the first two months of their friendship.
Adrien shrugged. “It didn’t seem relevant. I wasn’t scared until I started worrying about the lake freezing over and being stuck down here. I wasn’t scared after the first time you pulled me into the river and kissed me so I could breathe. It’s just the thought of being trapped that’s freaking me out.”
Luka placed a whisper of a kiss to the top of Adrien’s head. “You will never be trapped ever again,” he promised. “I know you’ve felt that way your whole life and that freedom is still new for you, but this is permanent. Things will never go back to the way they were…and I will never let you drown.”
“Thanks, Orpheus,” Adrien mumbled into Luka’s chest, holding his husband tighter as he drifted back to sleep.
 Adrien was in the kitchen, helping Rose to prepare the New Year’s feast when Juleka came down the steps from the deck and poked her head in, resting her elbows on the countertop.
“Sweetie, do you think you could spare Dri for fifteen minutes, or do you need him?” she inquired of Rose, tipping her head to the side.
“We just got everything in the oven, so I should be able to manage,” Rose replied, taking off her oven mitts and turning to quirk a suspicious eyebrow at her mate. “Why do you ask?”
Juleka shrugged. “I just wanted his help with something.” She shifted her gaze to Adrien. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Adrien readily agreed, eager to help his sister-in-law and hopefully win brownie points.
In the three months since marrying into the family, Adrien didn’t feel like he’d made much progress with Juleka, and he was keen to improve the situation any way that he could.
“Great. Get your coat and meet me on the shore,” Juleka instructed with what passed for the hint of a smile.
Three minutes later, Adrien found his sister-in-law sitting by the lakeshore, skipping stones absentmindedly.
“Here I am,” he announced his presence so as not to startle her. “What did you need help with, Juleka?”
Her auburn eyes lazily came to rest on him, and she stood and motioned for him to follow. “Walk with me. I wanted to talk with you.”
“What about?” Adrien inquired nervously, his stomach starting to tie itself into pretzels as she led him into the woods.
She kept walking, not bothering to answer until the lake was out of sight, swallowed up by the enchanted trees.
Only when they’d reached a clearing did Juleka turn to face him, breathing out a long sigh and crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m going to be straight with you,” she informed wearily. “I’ve actively tried to dislike you, but I just don’t. You’re polite and kind, and you do a good job helping out around the house. You’re a good cook. You’re fairly quiet, and you stay out of my way,” she verbally ticked off, and Adrien briefly dared to hope that this was going to be a positive conversation.
“I’ve tried to hate you,” Juleka stressed, “but I just don’t, so what I’m about to say is nothing personal.”
Adrien’s chest tightened, and he mentally braced himself for whatever hurtful thing his sister-in-law was getting ready to say next.
“What would it take to get you to leave?” she earnestly inquired and then waited expectantly for his response.
Adrien’s brow began to crinkle in confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“What’s your price?” Juleka rephrased, asserting, “I know you have a price. All humans do.”
Adrien staggered backward as if physically assaulted by the declaration. “Price?” he repeated, stunned and still trying to process her words.
“What would I have to give you to get you to leave my brother alone and go back to your castle where you belong?” she snorted indignantly, losing patience as he seemed to try to play innocent.
Adrien’s ears started to ring.
“I thought Luc would have lost interest in you by now,” she grumbled with a shake of her head. “His infatuations usually pass within a month, but this is getting dangerously serious. He’s obsessed with you, and I’m starting to get scared,” she confessed, the fear evident in her flame-like eyes.
“He’s completely lost his mind. He’s talking about dying with you,” Juleka hissed, wrapping her arms around herself tighter, trying to hold in her anxiety and terror. “He says he can’t live without you. Do you know how insane that is?”
Adrien did not know, because what Juleka was describing summed up his feelings for Luka pretty well, so the sentiment was mutual.
“Our people live centuries,” Juleka stressed, trying to get her point across. “At best, you’ll live maybe another sixty or seventy years. You say you love him. If you really loved him, would you steal hundreds of years from him? Would you take away all of that time, all of those experiences he could have?” she pleaded.
Adrien averted his gaze, unable to find his voice to answer as he stared at the blades of grass carpeting the forest floor, still magically flourishing despite the bitter cold.
“I guess what I’m really asking is: Do you love him? …Or are you selfish?” she challenged.
At the beginning of the year, Adrien would have slunk away with his tail between his legs, but, in the five months he had known Luka, the three months that they had been married, Adrien had changed. He’d begun to understand an important truth: the fact that he was worth something, the fact that he was likeable and deserving of love.
Adrien took a slow inhale and swallowed hard, looking up to meet his sister-in-law’s eyes as he declared, “I love him…so the thing I want more than anything is for him to be happy…and it sounds like the thing that makes him happy more than anything is me.”
Juleka’s eyes went wide in surprise.
She had expected the normally meek Adrien to fold and give in when confronted. She had never anticipated this kind of response.
“So, I’m going to stay by his side as long as I live,” Adrien decreed with all the authority of a nobleman certain of being heeded. “I’ll do my best to persuade him to live on without me, but what he does after I’m gone is up to him and you and Rose and Anarka. If he already feels like he can’t live without me, how would it help matters to deprive him of me even sooner by leaving?”
Juleka didn’t reply. She hadn’t considered this. She’d just been thinking that, if Adrien left, things would go back to the way they were before. She’d get her brother back, and Luka would no longer be in danger.
“Besides,” Adrien added more softly. “There’s nothing you could give me to make me leave. I gave up wealth and power and comfort to be with him so that I could have freedom and love and a feeling of belonging. I already have everything I want, Juleka. I’m sorry that my happiness is making things hard for you.”
She blinked, opening and closing her mouth several times, trying to form some kind of retort but completely at a loss.
“Well,” Adrien exhaled. “If there’s nothing else you need, I should really get back to helping Rose in the kitchen. Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention.”
With a polite nod, Adrien turned on his heel and headed back home.
 Later that night, after the New Year’s feast, Juleka and Adrien were in the kitchen washing dishes when Juleka muttered, “You didn’t tattle on me,” in honest surprise.
Adrien blinked, looking up from the plate he was rinsing in confusion. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You didn’t tell the others what I talked to you about earlier,” she elaborated, peering up at him curiously from the cup she was drying.
He shrugged, looking away. “What good would that do? It would only cause discord and get you in trouble, and I don’t want that. For my mate’s sake as well as my own, I just want to live here in peace and get along with everyone.”
Juleka hummed pensively, considering Adrien’s reasons.
“Besides,” he continued in a whisper. “I sort of get why you’re acting this way. You love your brother, and you think I’m a threat. You’re just trying to protect him. Honestly, we both want the same thing; we just have different ideas about how the goal should be achieved. I can’t fault you for doing what you think is right.”
Juleka gave a snort of a laugh. “No, Your Highness, you really, really could if you tried. The problem is you’re too good. Alya’s right about you. You’re a total cupcake.”
“I know that you’re making fun of me, but I’m choosing to take it as a compliment,” Adrien replied with a charming smile that Juleka had to exert a lot of effort in order to pretend that she was immune to.
“Suit yourself…Cupcake,” Juleka snickered.
 Adrien had been with the Couffaines for six months when winter’s grip on the land began to loosen, and the trees stretched their limbs, yawning into bloom.
One day, Juleka came back from town early, flying down the stairs as if pursued, her basket almost empty of the items she had been sent to purchase.
“Adrien!” she shouted, stumbling into the main cabin, eyes wide in alarm.
Adrien gave a start, looking up from the strings of Luka’s lyre where his husband was positioning Adrien’s fingers as Luka taught Adrien to play.
Anarka looked up from her magazine to glare at her daughter, scolding, “Juleka, not so loud. Anyone could hear you, shouting like that. Even the fish have ears.”
Rose stood from her place on the couch, going to her wife. “Juju, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Juleka shook her head, holding up a hand to assure Rose that she was fine as she hurried over to Adrien. “Prince Adrien of the Kingdom of Agreste…right?” she inquired cautiously, as if afraid of cutting the wrong wire of a ticking bomb.
“How do you know that?” Luka growled in warning, wrapping his arms around Adrien more tightly in protection.
“You two are loud, and the walls aren’t that thick,” Anarka scoffed, half-amused.
Juleka kept shaking her head. “In town. I ran into Alya. She’s always going to the human city. She said King Gabriel…” Juleka gulped, struggling to compose herself as she tried again, “…Your father is dead.”
13 notes · View notes
merakiaes · 4 years
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Best Friend’s Brother - John Shelby
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Pairing: John Shelby x reader
Requested: Yes.
Prompts: None. 
Warnings/notes: This is pretty shit, I’ve been distracted today so sorry for that. The title is also shit, I couldn’t come up with anything else xD Hope you like it though! (NOT PROOFREAD)
Wordcount: 3437
Summary: You’re Ada’s best friend. After meeting her family and taking care of John and his kids for so long, he finally pops the big question. 
The year was 1919 when you first met Ada Shelby.
She was twenty-two and pregnant with her first child, and you had recently turned twenty and just gotten your job as a midwife at the hospital.
The first time she came to visit you to check up on the baby, she was very grumpy and reserved. You could admit it frightened you a bit, as you were very well aware of who her family was.
But the second time she came by, she was in a better mood, and ended up opening up to you about the reasons for her foul spirits the first time around. And once you knew, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame her; you wouldn’t be happy either if you were stuck in between your one true love and your birthgiven family.
You were supposed to be strictly professional with all of your patients, but the two of you just clicked so quickly and so well once you actually got to talking that you couldn’t help but accept when she invited you out to a night out on the town the third time she came around.
You didn’t live far from Watery Lane, but still, you hadn’t ever been down that particular street. You weren’t really someone who widened your boundaries and explored. You were too careful.
And either way, you didn’t get much time to spare anyway, between work and taking care of the two boys you had taken in after the war. They were twin brothers, nine years of age and left parentless by the war.
Before the war, you had spent many days and nights babysitting them, and so you had when their mother had passed away in the influenza while their dad was away fighting.
You knew them and they were comfortable with you, which was why it was a given to take them in permanently when their dad never came back.
That night was the first one since you were eighteen that you had gone out on the town to have fun, having your neighbors – a couple in their fifties who lived with infertility and jumped at every chance they got to watch your boys – babysit for you.
Ada took you to the Garrison, really forcing you to go outside of your comfort zone. It took a while, but eventually you managed to let loose after getting a few drinks into your system.
The two of you were laughing and singing at the bar, entertaining pretty much the entire pub, when the Shelby brothers joined you after having dealt with some business.
To say they were shocked when they walked in and found their sister, who had never kept any female company in her life, singing at the top of her lungs with you at her side, was a big understatement.
You were introduced to them, and with the alcohol controlling your body, you were nowhere near your usual shyness, shaking their hands with a firm grip and enthusiastic smile.
Arthur, as the party-animal he was himself, loved you immediately, and Tommy was strangely fascinated by your kind nature. But John didn’t really care much.
Until the morning after when you came by the Shelby household with your two boys and ended up offering yourself to help his Katie clean up after she’s weed the bed so that he could head back into the betting shop.
After seeing you handle his kids, with such grace and so much kindness, having them calmer than he’d ever seen them before, he was sold.
There were countless of things he found attractive in women, but nothing could ever even compare to seeing you with his kids; that was the kind of sexy that could have any man whipped for the rest of his life.
And that’s just what happened.
You started babysitting his kids whenever he needed the extra help. He would drop them off at your house whenever Tommy had him running errands, and some mornings, you and the boys would even come by his house, where you would get his kids out of bed and feed them breakfast just so that he could get some extra sleep.
Only a few weeks after you’d met the entire family, you were adored to bits by each and every one of them.
Polly loved you for always helping John out, and for keeping her company whenever the boys were out on business. And Tommy and Arthur grew fiercely protective over you, even more so than they were Ada.
Ada was a Shelby and they knew that she could handle her own if it ever came to it, but you were just so innocent. Soft as a flower, just generally bright and bubbly with not even a smudge of darkness in your heart.
The amount of kindness you held in you often clouded your judgement. You always tried to see the good in people, which in Small Heath, could get you into a lot of trouble, hadn’t it been for the Peaky Blinders having your back.
But while Tommy and Arthur were protective over you, John was absolutely possessive. Not to your face of course; he would never, in a million years, want to give off the impression that he was trying to control you.
But if someone as much as mentioned your name with ill-meaning, his blade would be at their throat and their faces pushed into the mud in the next 0.01 seconds.    
He heard you at the Garrison when you would talk to Ada about the perfect romance and your dream man, how you wanted him to have strong morals, a kind heart, be loyal and committed to a fault and not fool around with other women behind your back.
You didn’t have high demands, but for the male population in Birmingham? It was pretty much impossible to stay faithful, and that was why you had yet to find someone right for you, as most men were sleazebags that would jump at every opportunity to get their cocks sucked.
John tried with all his might to change himself to fit your standards. He stopped visiting the whorehouse, he stopped reciprocating the women who would try to seduce him at the pub, sending them into Arthur’s lap instead.
He had already had good manners towards women, but for you, he took it to an entirely different level, excessively opening doors for you, pulling out chairs whenever you would go to sit down, and asking you if you needed anything wherever you went, whatever you did.
He did everything he could to get you to notice him, and you did. You didn’t think much of the increase of politeness, being used to the Shelby brothers’ unusually good manners, but you did notice the way he was distancing himself from women.
But you never could’ve guessed it was because of you, you just guessed it was because he missed Martha, so you stepped back and didn’t mention it.
It had been a long day. You had been working a shift at the hospital between six in the morning and three in the afternoon, and then you had gone straight to the Shelby household where Polly was watching the boys.
You helped around for a bit before you had to take the boys home to get them ready for bed. You hadn’t seen John all day, but you didn’t dwell much on it, used to him being out on business.
But you also hadn’t seen Ada all day, which was strange.
You had just put the boys to sleep when there was a knock on your front door. Your head whipped around to the doorway of the kitchen at the sound of the door opening, and you instantly knew it was either Polly, Ada or Arthur, as they were the only ones who didn’t bother waiting for you to open the door.
And you were proven correct when Arthur stomped into the kitchen only a second later, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants.
“Evening, love.” He greeted as he approached you, kissing your cheeks upon reaching you like he always did.
You kissed his cheeks back with a wide smile, drying your wet hands on your apron meanwhile.
“Arthur.” You greeted back, smiling widely. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Ah, you know.” He shrugged, the corners of his eyes crinkled with a mischievous smile. “Just here to relieve you of your housewife duties for the evening.”
You narrowed your eyes in suspicion at that, even further so when he reached around your back to undo the string of your apron.
“Is that so?” You asked, watching with careful eyes as he carelessly threw the fabric to the kitchen bench. “And why would that be?”
He took no care to your distrusting stare, grabbing you by the shoulders and starting to steer you out of the kitchen and to the front door, where he grabbed your coat from the rack.
“Because,” He began, opening your coat and holding it up for you, the suspicious smile not once leaving his aged face. “Johnny boy is expecting you.”
Your squinting eyes instantly went back to their normal size at the sound of John’s name, and you wasted no time in starting to put your arms into the coat, but you were still puzzled.
“What could he possibly need help with at this hour? Are the kids running circles around him barefoot again?” You questioned with a sigh, hoping that wasn’t the case as John already had so much on his plate.
But luckily, Arthur shook his head. “Nah, the kids are over at Polly’s tonight. It’s just the two of ya. Now, no more questions. Don’t want to keep my little brother waiting, do we?”
You gave him a long look, trying to figure out why in the world he was looking so smug. He always did, on second thought, but never this much.
But nevertheless, you didn’t put up much of a fight, ready to come running at John’s every call like you had been for the past months.
You wordlessly stepped outside after Arthur had opened the door for you, sparing his satisfied face one more look, before beginning down the stairs and onto the street, hearing the front door slam shut behind you only a second later.
Your brain was running crazy with thoughts.
You had been there for John a lot during the short period of time you had known each other, helping him get the kids up and ready in the mornings, ready to go to bed in the evenings, and many times afterwards taking care of him, talking to him and being there for him when he mourned the man he had been before the war.
But this was well past the children’s bedtime, and you had never been called over this late, especially not when the kids weren’t even there. So to say you were confused was a huge understatement, and admittedly, it made you quite anxious.
But you guessed you’d see soon what this entire thing was about, as the walk to his house wasn’t very long.
You reached your destination in only five minutes, and didn’t even bother knocking on the front door before entering John’s home, only kicking your boots free of the mud while calling out.
“John?”
There was a bang from the lounge, followed by a curse, but when John didn’t come and greet you at the door, you rid yourself of your own coat and ventured into the house yourself.
Upon entering the lounge, you were surprised to find the room lit up by countless of candles, and a table full of delicious-looking food.
You were surprised, and confused, and even more so when John finally revealed himself, coming out from the kitchen with a bottle of wine in his hands.
His hair was pushed back neatly, almost looking as if it had been groomed that very same day, and the grey suit he was wearing looked a tad more expensive than the ones he usually wore, causing a lift of your eyebrow.
“What’s all this?” You smiled teasingly, walking closer to the set-up with slow steps. “What’s the occasion?”
A smile to match your own rose to his lips as he walked around the table, putting the bottle down and coming over to you.
“I wanted to do something special to show my appreciation.” He told you, gingerly grabbing your arms and starting to lead you towards the table. “For everything you’ve done for me and the kids. I just thought you deserved to be pampered too, for a change.”
Once you reached the table, he pulled out the chair for you to sit down on, making sure you were comfortable before walking around and sitting down on the opposite side.
“Well…” You chuckled, letting your eyes gaze at the food. “I know for certain you’re not the one who cooked, or else half of this would’ve been burnt.”
An effortless chuckle left his lips at that. “You know me well, don’t you?”
You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet sound, and you were incredibly lucky for the warm hue of the candles, or he would’ve for certain been able to see the blush tinting your entire face.
“Probably better than you know yourself.” You answered with a nervous laugh, looking around some more before looking up at him, only to find he was already looking at you.
And of course, that only made you blush harder.
“What are you staring at?” You asked, getting only a lovestruck smile in return.
“You.”
But in all your flustered glory, you didn’t catch the feelings behind his baby blues. “Why? Is there something on my face?”
You reached your hands up to your face, starting to feel around for an eyelash or something. Your actions drew a laugh from his lips, which only resulted in you getting even more flustered.
“No.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing on your face.”
You opened your mouth to ask if something was the matter, feeling anxious with how strange he was acting, but had to cut yourself short when he suddenly stood up.
Out of instinct, thinking he had just forgotten something from the kitchen, you instantly began standing up too. “Can I help with anything?”
John quickly shot you down, gently pushing you back into your seat by your shoulders and shaking his head. “No. For once in your life, don’t help and just sit down.”
He let out a small laugh, the sound causing your lips to tug into a smile, but quickly turned serious again, forcing you to become so, as well.
You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting to happen when he cleared his throat and started digging around in the inside pocket of his suit, but it sure as hell wasn’t what happened next.
From his pocket, he fished out a small, white velvet box. Your eyes grew wide at the sight, and you couldn’t stop your hands from going to your mouth in shock when he then proceeded to go down on one knee.
“I was supposed to save this ‘til after dinner, but I just can’t wait that long.” He told you, trying his hardest to catch your eye, but your eyes were stuck on the box in his hand. “I’m sorry if this is weird for you to hear, but I am in love with you. I have been for some time now, and I would be the happiest man alive if you would do me the utmost honor of letting me take you as my wife.”
He opened the box, and your entire body froze at the sight of the ring inside.
It was a silver ring, with a twisted band with tiny diamonds all the way around, and in the middle, a big Alexandrite stone, twinkling with the perfect mixture of purple and aqua blue.
It was absolutely beautiful and looked more expensive than everything you had ever owned all together.
“I…”
You could barely form words.
“No, wait. Just listen for a second, please.” He pleaded, almost desperately, scooting closer to you and taking one of your hands in his. “I know I’m older than you, and that you could get someone younger, someone more honorable and someone with a cleaner lifestyle. But I see you with my kids and I just… They see you as their mother, they love you. Seeing you in general makes my heart beat as if I was seventeen all over again, and seeing you with them makes me go crazy. I want you, need you- we need you in our lives, (Y/N). If you’ll have us.”
Finally, you were able to tear your wide eyes away from the stunning piece of jewelry to meet his.
You could feel the tears starting to build up. “John, I don’t-“
Panic instantly struck his face. “You don’t want to marry me?” He interrupted you before you could finish your sentence, and you instantly started shaking your head violently.  
“No!” You protested. “I do! I do. I just… I’m a bit shocked is all.”
His disappointed face turned into one of hope. “You do want to marry me?”
“Of course.” You nodded, your face breaking into a smile so big it actually hurt your cheeks as you finally broke free of the shock. “Of course I do!”
A loud, relieved laugh left his lips and he wasted no time in standing up, taking you with him. He dropped your hand for a brief moment to be able to remove the ring from the box, closing it and putting it down on the table before picking your hand back up and slipping the ring onto your finger.
You let out a teary laugh at the feeling of the perfect fit, your entire body trembling with excitement, and before he could even think of make the first move you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him down to crash your lips to his.
His hands came up to cradle your jaw and pull you even closer, while yours went to the back of his head, your entire body just curving into his.
When you broke apart again you were both breathing heavily, out of breath. Your foreheads leaned together and John let out a nervous laugh as he stared into your eyes. “I think that’s the most scared I’ve ever been in my entire life.”
You laughed, closing your eyes briefly before looking back into his. “I’m sorry.” You apologized in a whisper, smiling. “I just… I really didn’t expect this.”
“Why?” He wondered with a shake of his head. “I’ve been doing everything in my power to show how much I care for you, I thought you noticed.”
You snorted. “Of course I’ve noticed. I notice everything.” Your smile fell slightly, turning into one of compassion, your thumb rubbing at his cheek gingerly. “But I thought that was because you missed Martha.”
Much like yours had, his smile also simmered down into a smaller one, his eyes growing sad. “I do, and I’ll always love her.” He confirmed quietly. “But I’m not in love with her. Not anymore.”
You looked deeply into his eyes, showing him you understood, before the thought suddenly struck you.
“Does Ada know?”
She was your best friend, and you knew she would have both yours and John’s heads for not telling her about your feelings for one another. The reaction would, however, be a bit milder if John had asked her permission beforehand.
And luckily, he had.
“She’s the one who helped me pick out the ring.” He confessed, his eyes leaving yours to focus on your hand as he brought it up between you, his fingers running over the ring lightly.
“Of course.” You smiled, shaking your head. “I should have guessed.”
How else would he have known what your favourite gemstone was and what to look for?
“God, I love you.” He said suddenly, taking you slightly by surprise.
But you quickly regained your composure, smiling widely and putting your arms back around his neck.
“I love you, too.” You said. “And even though you might not think so yourself, you really are the most honorable man I’ve ever met, and I know for a certain that I will never meet anyone who will be able to top that.”
A bright smile overtook his boyish features and only a second later, you were pulled into another kiss, no more words being spoken. But you didn’t need to say anything else, the ring resting on your fingers saying it all.
Who would’ve thought you would end up with your best friend’s brother.
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honestlyhufflepuff · 4 years
Text
Here are 20 reasons I am leaving the caregiver job with the client I've had since 2008: a list of unprofessional behavior and abuse by my client's guardian.
1. She said I wasn't Christian anymore, and said I was disrespecting my mother, for leaving the church I was raised in.
2. During the first year of employment, she would yell at me multiple times a week over things like leaving a lamp on (this is while I was caring for her medically fragile, high needs adult daughter). She would accuse me of being incompetent or trying to get fired for unemployment.
3. She told me I was not approved off for my honeymoon, less than a month beforehand, when I gave her over 5 months notice with consistent reminders. She harassed me over several texts while I was on my honeymoon saying I would be fired if I did not return a week earlier than I was supposed to.
4. She told me I still had to come in when I was sick and vomiting because she did not believe me. I became dehydrated and was vomiting so much that I had uncontrollable dry heaving and was unable to drive home. She refused to come home early when I told her of my symptoms, and when she did come home to see me retching into her trash can, she started handing me cleaning supplies to disinfect the trash can and the entire bathroom before I went to the emergency room...
5. ...there was no apology or ownership in forcing a sick employee to work to the point of needing to be hospitalized. She would not accept that I could not come into work for the next 3 days until my husband delivered the doctor's note.
6. I worked there throughout college, and would present my new school schedule each semester. For one class, I made the mistake of scheduling it after work. She said the schedule worked with her, but then consistently got home 30 min to and hour late. I missed so many classes that I had to withdraw.
7. Even after the hospitalization mentioned in #3, she would continue to be skeptical of any time I called in sick over the years (which wasn't often). I had no PTO or sick leave to use even when I was full time, so when I took off I didn't get paid. I was never approved to take off for any reason, and when I did take off it was accompanied by a massive guilt trip about how I was putting her family in a bind. It did not matter if it was a vacation, an illness, a doctor's appointment, or a family emergency. It also did not matter how much or little notice I gave; the guilt trips and emotional manipulation still accompanied any time I needed off. To this day, with every job I've had, I am always incredibly anxious about asking off, but it's never been a problem anywhere else I've worked.
8. Emotionally manipulative things she has said to get me to stay:
-"We don't have anyone else. I have to go to my job in order to care for [client's name]. You would be jeopardizing my job by leaving, and her well being." (If pressed she eventually admits to not looking for anyone else)
-"[Client's name] loves you like a sister, and her quality of life would go down significantly without you..." continues to tell me that if I don't do what she wants then I don't love or care for the client, even if it is because I need a job with higher pay and benefits to support my own family.
-"I thought the two of us were friends. This is very selfish of you." (Any time I don't do what she wants, like continuing to go to school full time).
-"God has put her in your life for a reason. You are called as spiritual sisters. It's your responsibility to care for her."
-"In the real world-the business world- other people won't be ok with you just taking off without approval. It's insubordinate and unprofessional." I was only 18 when she told me this, and young enough to believe her. Once again, I've literally never had a problem taking off with any other client or job because I often had PTO, and was always able to obtain leave approval easily. Even when it meant the client parent had to take off from work, they understood that the onus was on them to find the needed staff to account for people needing sick days and vacation.
9. She puts me in the middle of personal drama, constantly bad-mouthing the client's father and other attendants (who all inevitably leave after a year or two at most).
10. Told me, after a decade of infertility, that God told her I would become pregnant and have a son I was to name Amos. She said it would only become true if I prayed about it, so now when I most likely don't become pregnant, I feel it will be blamed on my lack of faith- or the fact that I am a different faith from her. I feel this instance was truly out of good intention, but ultimately unprofessional and something I would have preferred she keep to herself.
11. For years, she never got home when she said she would. I could never make plans after work because she would agree to come home at 7 and sometimes not make it home until 8:30. She always blamed traffic, needing to run an errand, or her boss keeping her. Then, when I had my own child I had to pick up from an after school program, she consitently got home on time. This showed me that she did have the executive functioning skills to be on time, but did not respect my personal time or work with other clients enough to do so before I was a parent.
12. I bent over backwards trying to help her. I scheduled less time with higher paying clients that were lower need. I sometimes worked 60 hour weeks while I was also in school. It never felt like it was enough. Even for the time I was working there 6 hours a week it was always "Why can't you stay later? Where do you have to be?" The more I gave, the more was expected, and then I was guilted for not meeting that higher expectation.
13. She refused to take the time to have team meetings with other service providers and caregivers, despite the fact all my other client families do this, and keep staff much more consistently as a result. Because of this, information and instructions were always inconsistent. With the client being significantly behaviorally challenged and medically fragile, this was at everyone's detriment.
14. Over the years, I referred 3 friends to work for her because she insisted she could not find caregivers on her own. All 3 of them lasted less than a year due to her behavior. She would then blame them and trash talk them to me, despite knowing I was still friends with them.
15. She expected caregivers to also deep clean the house. We are talking hours worth of work, that there just was not time for within the shift while also meeting the needs of the client.
16. She is openly homophobic, xenophobic, and although she thinks of herself as "not racist," she was extremely weird towards my besf friend's African fiancé. She refused to shake his hand and told me she didn't think he was with her for the "right reasons." Maybe thought he was in it for a green card? She seemed skeptical when I told her that he became a citizen 2 years prior, and that they'd been dating 6 years.
17. She has systematically isolated my adult client more and more over the years. We used to share many interests in things like Harry Potter, early 2000's pop, anime, Harajuku fashion, Adventure Time, Steven Universe, etc. One by one, everything we bonded over was off limits, due to being a "bad influence" or "demonic." She is no longer allowed to engage in any age-expected media unless it is explicitly Christian, and it breaks my heart to see how sad she gets about that.
18. When I was in college, and completely broke after just paying for books and classes, she said that she wanted me to go to the water park with her and the client. Admission was $50. I assumed she was paying since I was being required to go for work, and this was always what was done in the past. In the car, I asked if I could ride a roller coaster that the client wouldn't be able to go on while they ate ice cream. She said "Sure! You can ride whatever you like!"
So, I start getting excited. We're chatting pleasantly until the moment when she says "OK, when we get out of the car, you can go pay for your ticket first, and then I will bring..."
My stomach dropped. I told her there was a misunderstanding, and that I could not afford my ticket. She acted like it wasn't right that she should have to pay for mine. I told her that if she didn't want to, then I could study at the Starbucks across the street while they attended the park. She said no, because obviously she still wanted my help with her daughter. She paid for my ticket, making passive aggressive comments the whole time about everything I did, from how I pushed the wheelchair to how long I took to go to the bathroom despite the line.
I was no longer permitted to go ride the roller coaster, and I sat in silence while they ate their ice cream.
19. Recently, due to Covid, I do not have child care for my own daughter on Fridays. I have been bringing her to work with me, which my client's mom was supportive of. Then the client had drastic behavioral changes that I won't detail, but that O can say was significantly stressful on my daughter, and made it stressful for me to manage both of them at the same time. I told the mother, 2 weeks in advance, that I could not come in on Fridays until the behavior was consistently resolved. I do not want to get a sitter outside of maybe my aunt, due to covid, and I wouldn't expect her to do that every week. My client's mom was very understanding of this at first, seeing as we both now have special needs children, but the night before the next Friday I was scheduled to come in she berated me for not finding babysitting to the point that I started to panic. I firmly told her that I gave her plenty of notice, and then blocked her number up until the day I was scheduled to come back in.
20. When she is home at the same time I am helping her daughter, she micromanages everything. I think she is incapable of just letting me do the same work I've been doing for over a decade without standing over my shoulder and looking for something wrong.
Some background info:
I wanted to write this, first of all, to document all the reasons that I am justified in leaving, so that I can refer back to it no matter how hard she tries to get me to stay. This is like my anonymous way of getting it off my chest since no one who follows me on here knows me irl. Second of all, I want all the young professionals on here to know that, if they are treated like this in the work place, it is ok to leave!
I started working for this family when I was 18, and I am now 31. I have worked as many as 60 hour weeks, and as little as twice a month when I was full time with the state, but I have always cared for her in some capacity since 2008. I am currently working 15-20 hours a week with her.
You may wonder why I've stayed so long, and in regards to that I will say first of all that abusive relationships are hard to leave. The abuser may convince you that you are bad and won't find anywhere else good enough to take you. This can pertain to any type of relationship, be it romantic, professional, parental, or friends.
Another factor is that I love my client deeply, and my employer takes advantage of that. We grew up childhood friends, which is one reason maintaining professional boundaries with this family has been so hard.
The last reason I have stayed may be the hardest to explain, but I will try.
Sometimes she is good. My employer has made improvements over the years. Most of the worst things on here happened when I was in college. I don't know if her improvement is due to a genuine change in heart, or because she knows deep down that her behavior is why all the other caregivers left.
Whatever the reason, we do actually care for each other. We do actually connect and have a good time. She is kind to my husband and my daughter. She often tells me that I am a godsend to her family, a loyal and talented caregiver, and the best friend her daughter has ever had (although she will contradict this the moment I am not doing what she wants).
What I want people in similar situations to know is that the good moments do not erase the trauma of the bad ones. It is not my responsibility to "get over it" because she is trying to do better. A lot of the stuff she has said and done run too deep, and when she lapses into her old ways, I find myself reacting in a panic-driven, irritable way that's not really me. It's a reaction to trauma. I am not required to continue to stay at an underpaid job with an environment that evokes such emotions.
So please, if you are being treated like this in your job, then leave. You will find something else. For me, I intend to have another job lined up before leaving, but I'm on my way. For the first time in years, I've revamped my resumé, and it felt so empowering to work on a document that highlights my strengths!
For anyone in a similar position, you've got this. There are a lot of great jobs out there. There are a lot of humane employers. If you are treated like this, then label it for what it is. It is abuse. It is unhealthy. It is not ok. It is not erased by the times they are nice. And you deserve better.
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Text
Cinderella AU - Dean x fem!reader
There once was a man, a good man. He loved his family very much, his wife and young daughter, (Y/N). Father and daughter were inseperable, they were the best of friends. After a mysterious illness, his wife died and the man remarried. The woman, Druscilla Tremaine, and her daughters, Anastasia and Drizella, moved into their home. And just as before, the man followed his wife to the grave. This left (Y/N) at the hands of three witches who forced her to clean house and run errands for spell ingredients. What the witches didn't know what that the girl had been learning all these years and had found some magic abilities of her own. There was a meeting of the coven soon, a fabulous party for powerful witches.
-------------------------------------------------
In the darkness of my tiny room I practiced. I practiced and practiced. I practiced by candle light to hide what I was doing. Druzilla, my actual evil stepmother, would literally kill me if she found me doing magic. At any opportunity, I would write down spells of little bits of paper and hide them in a notebook I kept under my bed.
It was early, I could be caught at any moment now. But it wasn't fair. The spell that my step mother was going to use required a life, she was going to be using a field mouse from the backyard. The little thing didn't deserve to suffer. From it's tiny cage, I lifted him out with one hand and fed him a tiny piece of cheese. He held it in his little paws and ate away, not a care in the world.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, gently petting the top of its head. From the table next to me, I grabbed a pinch of chamomile and blew it into the mouse's face.
I took a deep breath and sounded out the spell I heard, "bah rah gah doh." The mouse halted and fell limp. My eyes widened and I panicked. Did I kill it? Do I do something wrong? Pronounce something wrong? I held the little mouse close to my ear, hearing its tiny heart beat. My shoulders relaxed and I put the little mouse back in it's little plastic prison.
"There you go... Sleep now." I whispered. Suddenly loud footsteps thundered down the hall. I quickly took my notebook and shoved it under my bed and blew out the candle. My door opened, blinding me with the light from the hallway.
"Ah, you're awake. Decided to sleep in, did you?" Druscilla looked down at me with her pointed eyes.
"I was up late cleaning up... From your ritual." The ritual where she literally drained a person of their blood to keep her young. The victim was a college girl passing through town. The locals would blame an animal, just like they were spelled to do.
"Well that's no excuse, is it?" She said, putting her hands on her hips.
"No." I said, not looking her in the eyes.
"No, what?"
"No, ma'am."
She humpfed, "That's what I thought. Now get ready. I need that mouse. There are hunters in town and I'll be damned if they find me. Especially before the party." She left the room, slamming the door behind her. I winced at the sound, looking back at the little mouse, still sound asleep.
"What I wouldn't do, little mouse, what I wouldn't do." I sighed and got ready for the day. Hair in a messy bun, t-shirt, jeans, socks, shoes, nothing special. My step monster spent my dad's money on clothes and riches for her and her daughters. Anastasia and Drizella. Anastasia wasn't so bad, she mostly followed the crowd. It was Drizella I had to watch out for. Drizella liked to play with fire, I had the scars on my legs to prove that her spells worked. Nothing like having your pants set on fire in the middle of dinner. I made my way down to the main floor of the house, the little cage in hand. I set the cage down on the alter table and took a deep breath.
"Hey!" A shrill voice made me jump, there in the doorway to the living room was Drizella.
"I thought I told you to iron my dress." She held up the dress that I ironed the previous night, "It's all wrinkled!"
"I did iron it." I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
"Not good enough. Need I remind you of what I can do?" She glared. Soon after Anastasia appeared, plate in hand.
"(Y/N), I'm hungry. Why isn't breakfast ready?" She asked.
"Because she's going to reiron my dress." Drizella snapped at her sister.
"No, she's making breakfast first!" Anastasia whined back. They both started yelling at each other back and forth until their mouths snapped shut with a snap of Druscilla's fingers.
"Now, now, girls, what is all this ruckus?" She eyed me, "(Y/N), what have you done now?"
I shook my head, "I didn't do anything-"
"I see. That explains it then. Well do something. Make breakfast, iron her dress, and then run to the apothecary. I need more ashwood." She grabbed my arm, pushing up my sleeve to show the scar on my arm where she placed a hex bag, "If the shop keep gives you any trouble you know what will happen. And you wouldn't want to hurt him, would you?" I shook my head.
"Good." She dropped my arm and with a flick of her wrist, I was sent towards the kitchen.
-
The streets were crowded, it was pretty unusual for this tiny town but with the meeting of the coven the town was buzzing. They were also buzzing because of the idea of hunters. Druscilla said hunters were bad, but I didn't think anyone could be as bad as her. I entered the apothecary, just like I did every week. The little bell chimed and I felt safe for the time being. The shopkeep was understanding of my situation and knew what Druscilla could do. The shopkeep was a friendly man. His smile was warm and welcoming. He was tall and usually wore a grey sweater, probably to hide all of his warding tattoos. His business was a dangerous one. I made my way up to the register and smiled.
"I can't find the ashwood, did you move it?" I asked.
He shook his head, "No, I'm afraid that someone put my stock on reserve, they got a big harvest day ritual coming up."
My heart sunk, "But, She need ashwood. I can't go back without it."
He shrugged, "I'm sorry. The client already paid for all of it."
My arm started to burn and so did my eyes, "Please." I gasped in pain, "There has to be something left."
His eyes widened, "Hey now, I told you I don't have any to give Druscilla and you can go tell her that."
My blood started to boil with rage and my breathing became ragged, "Please." I said through gritted teeth.
"I told you no." He said. My rage took over and I snarled, lunging at him over the counter. I took him to the ground, wrapped my hands around his throat. He grabbed my wrists, looking up at me with bulging eyes.
"Stop!" He managed to say.
"I can't!" I growled, pressing harder. His eyes rolled back and his fighting stopped. I found the will to let go and scrambled away from the man, taking off out of the shop.
I made my way to the hardware store, stopping outside to watch as old black Chevy park in front of the Apothecary.
-
"Tempered ashwood?!" Druscilla screamed and threw the wood planks at me after I presented her with a bag of it from the hardware store. I shielded my head with my arms as they fell down on me.
"You come back here with tempered ashwood?! What am I supposed to do with this?!" She screamed.
"It's all I could find! The apothecary was out!" I shouted back over the sound of her destroying plates that I would have to clean up later.
"Excuses! Always with the excuses, (Y/N)! I have raised you and fed you, kept you off the streets and you give me tempered ashwood?! How ungrateful." She spat. She walked away and went back to her stone alter where Drizella and Anastasia had been watching. She took the little mouse from his cage and shook him a bit with a confused look on his face.
"Why is it sleeping?" She looked down her nose at me.
"I-I don't know." I stuttered.
Druscilla rolled her eyes, "It doesn't matter." She took a sharp knife from the alter and I looked away while she ended the little life in her hand. I looked back after the last of it's blood was drained into a silver bowl. She then, pricked her finger with the knife. Anastasia and Drizella followed, they each let a drop of blood fall into a bowl.
"Cloaking flame, I ignite you. The fire born from blood leaves behind no witch. Now vanish me from the danger's sight. O fire of power and concealment." Druscilla threw some herbs into the bowl and it ignited into a red flame.
"Cloaking flame. That will keep us safe from any hunter that we should come into contact with. As long as this flame burns, they can't see us." Where was that spell when I was hiding from that damn cat, Lucifer.
On cue, the devil cat that I'm sure was spawned from Druscilla appeared. It was a large black cat with unsettling yellow eyes. It strutted past me and towards the alter. Drizella tossed the corpse of the mouse to the cat who caught it in its mouth.
"There's mommy's little helper." Druscilla sighed fondly at him. Lucifer, who didn't meow, but growled back at her.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Druscilla looked at me with a finger pressed to her lips.
"You know what to do." She said. I closed my eyes and stood up. When I opened them I walked towards the door and opened it. On the porch were two tall men, one taller than the other. They were dressed in dress pants and white button downs.
"Is this the Tremaine residence?" The taller one asked.
"Yes." I avoided eye contact, pulling my sleeves down to hide the scar.
"Well, this is Brother Samuel and I'm Brother Dean. We're here from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day saints. May we come in?" The other man with bright green eyes gave me a million dollar smile.
"No." I said.
"Are you sure?" Brother Samuel asked. He had saggy brown hair and hazel eyes that were kind and welcoming, "From what we heard in town the family used to be avid church goers."
"That was before my mother died. My father lost faith. So did I." I quickly looked over my shoulder at the witches then back at the Mormons, "This really isn't a good time." I tried to close the door but the green eyed man stepped forward and held the door open with his foot.
"Ma'am, is everything alright. Are you in some sort of danger?" Brother Dean asked, his eyes scanning over my face like a lazer. I winced when I felt the spell beginning to take it's hold on me.
"Please go." I whimpered, the burning began to take effect in my eyes. Which he seemed to notice because he backed off and smiled.
"Perhaps another time." Brother Samuel said, "Have a nice day." I quickly closed the door, leaning against it and breathing heavily.
"Those must be the hunters." Anastasia said, "They didn't notice us at all."
Drizella smirked, "Mother, may I keep one. The green eyed one got my blood pumping."
"No, no, Drizella. I have a plan for them. Involving..." She looked at me with a smirk, "Our guard dog."
-------------------------------------------------
Tis the beginning of a story based Loosely off of Cinderella, I'm trying my best.
Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!
Read part two here!
If you would like to be tagged in this series, send me an ask!
General tag:
@happy-little-winchester
@hobby27
@somebodyto-love
@beanie-beebo
@vicmc624
@ria132love
@lilulo-12
@teenwaywardasgardian
@tloveswriting
@samros95
@calaofnoldor
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multicouple-lover · 3 years
Text
M= Torres mom D= Torres dad S= Sage ( family friend)
G= Gibbs B= bishop T or N = Nick Torres
It was an average day for Bishop and Torres they didn't have a case so they were just doing paperwork they were all at their desks well except for Gibbs he was probably at the diner or who knows where but out of the blue Torres mom dad sister niece and family friend show up and when Nick looks up he is in shock to see his family there he then says
T: what are y'all doing here
D: to see if you can go to lunch we were out shopping and in the neighborhood
T: um yeah I guess we don't have a case we are just doing paperwork
*bishop walks in and her phone rings* *bishop has a worried look on her face*
T: hey bishop you ok
B: yeah I have to run an errand call me if we get a case please.
*Torres is now worried*
S: ok I'm hungry how bout we go eat
*The rest say yes*
G: grab your gear where's bishop
T we don't know she got a phone and looked worried then she left she said to call her if we got a case
G well call her
*turns to his family with a sorry look on his face*
T raincheck
M: yeah
*leaves and calls bishop gets worried she don't answer* Gibbs phone rings he answers
Turns out it was bishop she is taking some time off because of family matters says Gibbs Torres automatically gets worried because it seems like she would have told him then he remembered there conversation last night where he let it slip he don't trust her like he used to because of case where she asked a question if it was possible he killed the guy and he was upset because he thought she trusted him more than that to even think that but I guess not so when he let it slip she said well I only asked because you were drugged and when he heard that he felt bad because he then realized she didn't want to ask the question but the team pushed her to because she was the closest to him so when he remembered that he also realized that since he didn't really trust her she didn't trust him only when needed which means he ruined a friendship that meant the most to him because over something that wasn't her fault at all. So after he realized all that he called her but she didn't answer he was worried she also answered his calls even if he hurt her she would answer that's just Ellie so he went to talk to Gibbs about it all. So after Nick explained everything he told nick where she was and that she had told him that last night along with some other things going on and to next time be careful what you say to her because next time I'm not going help you ok and to wait and till after we solved the case to talk to her. So after the solved the turns out the wife did it because he was cheating and was threatening to kill her. So nick quickly left as soon as possible but when he got out of the building he was met by Sage
S: hey I was just going to text you to see if you wanted to grab dinner
N: uhh maybe next time I have something I need to do
S: well let's go ill help you
N: uhh this is something I have to do alone
S: what is it
N: repairing a friendship that ruined
S: well let's grab dinner and you can tell me what happened and how you ruined the friendship and I can help you come up with a way to repair
She didn't even give him time to respond she started walking towards her car
N: maybe next time but I want to go fix it now
S: dang you must really love this friendship if you want to do it now and not just push it off till later or is this friendship with a coworker and it's just awkward at work
N: both she is my best friend who I can talk to about anything and I know she will always have my back
S: ok but you do know I'm always here to talk and will always have your back
N: thanks and yeah I know I will text you later and we can grab that dinner ok
S: yeah
Nick leaves and heads to Ellies house. Nick arrives at bishops house he gets out of the car and knocks on her door.
B: uhh nick what are you doing here
N: I came to apologize about what I said the other day
B: why are you apologize it was the truth wasn't it
N: well at that yes but then I came to realize that the others pushed you to do it
B: so instead of asking me why I asked you just get mad and stop trusting me and pull away and just think that you can come back and apologize and everything will be dandy right?
N: uhh yes
B: you know when you did all that it hurt right the one person who was supposed to be my best friend just pushes me away for something that the others made me do and stop trusting me Nick in our line of work we have to trust each other.
N: it was numb El I should have never done it and I only stopped trusting you because I thought you didn't trust me
B: come talk to me if think that I have always trusted that's not something I say that often you see nick I don't trust people right away it takes time for me to trust you the reason for it is because when I do I end up getting hurt you were the one person I trusted automatically I should have known better but I thought you were different I guess not
N: El I am different this wasn't on purpose I got caught up in my own self I didn't think of how it might affect you
B: yeah it always happens Nick I get when you were undercover you had to always watch your back and if one person hurts you then don't trust them ever again but Nick you aren't undercover anymore and we have known each other for 3 years and in them 3 years I opened up to you about things I never told anyone and in return when I hurt you not meaning to you push me out. I have one question though?
N: ok
B: why not just come ask me about because I thought you knew me better than that I mean when have I ever hurt on purpose?
N: never
B: exactly so why did you think I would start now
N: I don't know I was just mad I wasn't thinking straight it's just I'm scared because I know that there is chance that one of the guys I put away can come back and my brother-in-laws death anniversary was yesterday so I was in a bad spot then it made me realizes how much of a target you could be so when I thought you didn't trust me I thought perfect your less of a target now I just didn't think how much it could hurt you
B: I can protect my own self Nick I've done it before I have been through a lot kidnapped tortured that's happened to before nick I don't need protecting
N: I'm always going to try and protect the ones I love and that includes you. So are we good
B: yeah just promise me one thing come and talk to me next time
N: I promise
B: want to watch a movie
N: yeah
Nicks phone rings
N: hello
S: hey you make up with her yet
N: yeah
S: ok since you made up with her want to go to dinner that you owe me
N: uhh I'm pretty tired maybe tomorrow
S: ok then goodnight
N: good night
Nick hangs up the phone
B: who was that
N: just a family friend she wanted to go out to dinner early but I said no because I wanted to come and apologize
B: you know you don't have to stay you can go have dinner with her right I'll be fine
N: yeah I know I just don't feel like going out and plus I dint have anyone to criticize or criticize me today and to be honest I kind of missed in so I'm going to make up for tonight *he laughs*
B: ohh ok that's how it going be huh *laughing while she says it*
N: oh what have I done *chuckles*
*they are both laughing* someone knocks on the door
B: ill be right back
Opens the door
B: uhh hi how can help you
S: is Nick here
B: uhh why
S: well we were supposed to have dinner but he said he to come and apologize to you then I called him a couple minutes ago and he said he was tired but I knew he was lying
B: uhh how did you know where I live
S: nicks mom told me when I aksed where he was because we were supposed to grab dinner then he blew me off so she told me where you lived so I could see if he was here
Nick comes up behind bishop
S: I knew you it you blew me off for her
N: I didn't blow you off we never had plans for tonight i said tomorrow night but how did you find know I would be here and where Ellie lives
S: nick im not an idiot I see the way you look at her you love her and you also said you were coming to aploigize I figured you would stay nad your mom told me where she lives
N: why did you come by though
S: to see if my suspicions were true and they were
B: what were your suspicions
S: was I talking to you no
B: your rightbut you were talking about me and that gives me the right to join ok honey
S: who do think your talking to sweetie
B: you who else would I be talking to
N: ok you need to leave sage
S: why
B: because we say so
S: ughh bye
They walk back over to the couch
B: I have a question
N: ok what is it
B: was she right
N: about
B: you loving me
N: uhhhh yes she was right
B: since when
N: I don't know a while ago but its ok if you don't feel the same way
She leans in and kisses him
B: who said I don't feel the same way
The End
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agentwallflower · 4 years
Text
Supernova: Chapter 3
Nothing can hurt me, I got Raymond in Animal Crossing.
Anyway... updates. Back to work. I hate everything and everyone. My dice didn’t cure properly, but my friend liked her birthday present! I need to work on my art projects and... yeah. I’m frustrated.
Also it’s like 90 freaking degrees out... ugh.
Anyway, nobody wants to hear about my failed attempts to get published. I’m just going to submit the chapter and go to bed. Next chapter comes out on May 30th, so get excited.
Laters.
“Just a few more seconds and we'll be done.”
That was a relief, because it felt like her back was about to break in two.
Andy grimaced as she continued the fool's errand of trying to touch the floor while standing. Maybe it was because she was just too damn tall to pull it off, or all of her height came from her legs, but she still had quite a ways to go. Until she got the all clear, all she could do was glare at the floor and hope nothing broke along the way.
Up above, someone was measuring the length of her back with a way too cold tape measure. They never really told her what they were looking for, or what their readings meant after they finished up.  She chalked it up to them trying to measure her growth and never asked more questions. Even if she had, Andy doubted she would get any real answers out of the white coats. They took data, she gave it – that was how they worked at this point.
“Are we done yet?”
“One more measurement and... done. You can relax now.”
The tech stepped back – old hand at this, no doubt. Andy's body didn't react kindly to having to hold the position for as long as they needed. Instead of straightening up, it snapped. She wound up on the floor face-down, resisting the urge to groan as her vision swam. It never got any easier, no matter how many times she went through this.
If they were testing her flexibility, those readings had to be abysmal.
“Do you need a hand?” a softer voice came from her side. New person, had to be. They were close enough that they could've offered a hand, but judging from how they stepped back that it had been out of habit.
Definitely a new person. They were always scared of her.
She eventually sat up, still feeling the pulling sensation of tension in her back. “It's cool. A linoleum floor isn't going to take me out that easily.”
They didn't argue with her as she stood, feeling her body go rigid at points.  It took a few seconds of feeling like shit for it to stop hurting so much. Well, hurt was relative – they weren't quite sure she could feel that kind of thing. Uncomfortable worked just fine for the official records. What she felt didn't really matter as much.
That was odd in her opinion, but she was just the test subject. It wasn't her ass dealing with the world's worst IRB.
“How's our favorite subject today?”
A familiar voice caused Andy to turn her head. There was a woman in the doorway, tablet in hand. She knew her as Dr. Sakamoto, the scientist in charge of the study. They had known each other for years, since Andy was five. In all those years, she hadn't seemed to age much. Then again, she was a pretty bad judge of age.
At least she didn't have pliers this time.
“All the subject readings are - “ the tech was ignored as Sakamoto strode into the room, heading for her subject instead. Oh, definitely a newer scientist – they weren't used to their subjects being able to talk back. They would learn in time.
Andy shrugged her shoulders as best she could. “I don't like bending over.”
“You never do.” The woman chuckled good-naturedly – Andy always doubted whether that was true or not – as she approached. “Do you mind if we get a count on your teeth? I see your jaw is sitting a little differently this month.”
Before she could say anything, the scientist added “No pliers, just a count.”
Good. The last time they put pliers in her mouth, it was impossible to get rid of the taste. For this, Andy was more than happy to open her mouth. By now, everyone there was smart enough not to stick anything squishy inside if they wanted it back in one piece. Instead, she felt the cold tap of metal against her teeth as they were methodically counted.
One of the great parts of this was that she had no gag reflex to speak of – they could go all the way back and never get a reaction out of her.
“42... 43...” One final tap. “Looks like you have 46. That's 2 more than last time. Have you found you're eating any differently?”
Another shrug of her shoulders. “The front ones really do all the work, I don't pay much attention to my back row.”
“We'll have to observe you next snack time.” All the data was entered into her pad. Sakamoto nodded at the findings. “Looks like that's all we need for you today. Is your mother picking you up this time-”
Andy snorted as she headed back over to the table in order to get dressed. Conversations were always easier like this when she had something on her. The worn denim and cotton was something like her mental armor.
“You know she hasn't picked me up in years, doc. Besides, pretty sure one of her clients shit the bed this morning.” She settled her shirt back into place, rotating her shoulder to make sure everything was sitting right. “It's Aunt Miri again.”
Sakamoto nodded as she continued to type. “Right, Aunt Miri. Has she given any thought to letting me get a sample-”
Another snort as Andy pulled her necklace back into place. “You know her answer, doc:  you can jam your sample tube up your ass.”
Well, her aunt had said way worse than that the day they had spoken about it, but it would have been rude to repeat those words. Besides, she didn't have nearly as strong a control on Russian as the older woman did. Her accent just never came out right; maybe it was how her mouth was shaped?
At least the doctor didn't look too disappointed in the prospect that she wasn't going to get what she wanted. “I can at least dream she'll change her mind one day, yes?”
“Keep dreaming, doc, Aunt Miri has a definite no contact order with doctors who want to study her. Pretty sure she's got acid on her nerve endings just thinking about it.”
Andy left the room as soon as the door opened and before Sakamoto could try to explain to her that acid didn't work that way. She could still hear talk of denaturing proteins being sub-optimal for nerve endings as it slid shut behind her. Now she was alone in the hallway, but not really alone. After all, there were cameras everywhere.
Besides, anywhere she went in the lab was a double wall. She could see them watching her now behind the wall that was supposed to be a stretch of blank hallway.
Andy walked along, hands in the pockets of her well-worn jeans. By now, she was long used to the calculating stares and eternal scratching of notepads or keying of information. It didn't take a genius to realize she was their prize research project. To them, she was probably nothing more than points of data on a graph or the byline to getting a new research grant. It probably should have bothered her, but she just didn't have the energy to care anymore.
Besides, they didn't know their data was faulty. After all, wasn't the point of watching a subject covertly to see how they reacted that you weren't caught with the binoculars?
“Wonder if I can grab a snack before I go.” The room she wanted was close by anyway. A glowing sign pointed the way, but she was going off muscle memory at that point. One of the fun facts about being her was that her vision was... off. Things needed to be flipped and oriented from bottom to top for her to be able to read. Most places obviously didn't bother with that, so... she was kind of functionally illiterate.
That didn't matter much, though. It wasn't like she went anywhere that reading was required.
It was fun to watch a few people flinch as she poked her head in. “Hey, is there any leftovers for me today?”
One of the older techs, one who was long used to her, pointed to a nearby bowl with a practiced gesture. “We have some blue ones, and I think Ray from the night shift snuck in a purple. Something about you being a growing kid and needing all the nutrition you can get.”
Indeed, there was a delicious little treat sticking out of the top of a plastic bowl labeled ' for Andromeda'. At one point, she had scratched out the other half of her name with an ill-gotten sharpie, but the fact remained the bowl was for her. And as such, she was more than happy to take a few samples and go off happy, munching.
Technically, she should have been sitting while she ate – less crumbs. But they needed all the data they could get on her, right?
Andy was soon in her designated waiting area, polishing off the last of her snack. From her seat, she could see out the path that would let her leave the lab. It was through a metal-detector, a full body scanner, and a place where few nasty looking guards sat. One of them nodded to her, but said nothing. They never did.
Once, when she was younger, she had tried to run out on her own when she'd seen her mother. Almost getting shot had taught her the hard way to wait until she got signed out.
“Wonder where Aunt Miri is?” Andy licked the last bit of residue off one of her fingers as she watched for familiar signs of her aunt. “Hope she didn't get stuck cleaning up the mess this morning.”
She had gotten to see a bit of it when her sister had let her use her phone. Even a few hours later, they were probably still defrosting the pipes and getting downtown moving. It was no doubt making traffic a nightmare.
Lucky for her, Bear Paw Labs wasn't anywhere near that. It paid to be set on the edge of a massive explosion that required defcon-five levels of security to get into, she guessed. Of course, that meant getting internet was a nightmare, but it wasn't like she had a phone to play on anyway.
Some might call her analog. Others would consider the fact she was 20 and under constant house arrest somewhat troubling. She tended to agree with the latter.
“Oh, come on. We do this every time I come to pick her up. I'm pretty sure you know who I am now!”
“I'm sorry, ma'am. Rules are rules.”
The sound of an annoyed Russian lesbian carried over the soft beeps of a metal detector. Andy stood up from her seat and traveled the small distance to where she would meet the woman. At the moment, she was going through the full body scan, glowering at the guard who was mostly used to it by now.
Mostly – they still flinched when she set her gaze on them.
“Having fun, Aunt Miri?” Andy slung her bag over her shoulder as she waited for the all clear sign. Her aunt may not have been the biggest woman physically, but something about her ice white skin and pale blue eyes set people on edge. Add in she looked like she walked straight out of a punk rock concert in the 70's, and well... people tended to not want to mess with her. Mostly. There were still some security guards who didn't know better.
They were so not paid enough for dealing with her.
The woman flashed her a smirk. “Oh, always. Just catching up with Bob here as he deigns to ignore the cavity search.”
“Ma'am, we don't-”
“It's a joke, kid. Don't take it so hard.”
She stomped forward, heels of her thick boots squeaking against the metal floor. Better for disinfecting, but it wasn't like they had much to do there. Andy was glad to meet her in the middle, under the watchful eyes of the guards. Together, they walked through the gate and officially stood on the other side.
Another successful custody hand off between the United States government and her family.
“So, grow anything new since the last time I picked you up?” Miri had dark circles under her eyes that suggested she wasn't getting all the sleep she needed. Given the fact she was awake in the daytime, that was no surprise. When it came to cycles, her aunt preferred the night. Something about it hurt her sensitive eyes less. Of course, she was always there to pick her up... so she had a lot of really cool aunt points to say the least.
Andy nodded as they exited the lab. On the outside, it looked so damn normal that it was hard to believe she spent so much of her time there. Of course, she wasn't sure what it should have looked like. Maybe it should have had a permanent dark cloud hanging over it? Lightning in the background with eerie music?
Maybe she watched too many B horror movies. She had a short list of approved media, ok?
“Couple more teeth, but they were focused on my back again.” Andy slid into the passenger seat and watched as her aunt soon joined her. “I don't know what they're looking for, do you?”
Normally, she didn't expect people to answer her when it came to her future – things were weird there. But if anyone knew, it would be Aunt Miri. After all, she had... well, known the one who came before her.
It was hard, thinking about Cass sometimes. Clearly she wasn't the only one who felt that way – Miri's white knuckles got even more ghostly as she gripped the steering wheel. Her entire body looked tense as she started the car to drive off.
Whoops – tactical error.
“Sorry, kid. I can't say I ever saw them without their clothes on.” At a red light she reached over to nudge Andy's shoulder. “Maybe they're expecting you to grow wings or something. Then maybe you could get home yourself one of these days.”
Her shoulders shook with mirth as she playfully waved the woman's hand away. “I'm already weird enough, I don't need wings. Sakamoto would never let me rest if it turns out I can fly. She's still tying to get your spit, by the way.”
Miri smirked as she kept driving. “Well, looks like I'll have to break her heart again. My darling will just have to be disappointed.”
And then she let out a harsh bark of laughter that made her entire body shake. Andy joined her, shoulders twitching as her body moved. She couldn't laugh, but she has long since figured out this was her version of it. While she wasn't sure what actual laughter felt like, this wasn't so bad – almost pleasant even.
The ride calmed down after that as they waded through afternoon traffic out of the city. The summer camps and clubs were out, and the summer college session was right behind them. The streets were alive with people, all of them buzzing with activity. Just watching them made Andy feel light headed. One thing she would never get over was just how many people there were.
So many... and they just went about their day.
At the sight of a girl who could have been her sister's age, she turned to her aunt. “Jen's got a dance thing coming up.”
“I know. It's Friday.” Miri frowned. “I'm not going to be able to make it, kid, I-”
Andy finished for her. “I know, you've got temple. Hopefully Mom or Sara can go for her. Wish I could...”
She leaned against the glass, feeling the vibration through her skull. “Aunt Miri, am I ever going to be let out on my own?”
With her eyes to the glass, Andy didn't get to see her aunt's expression. She did, however, hear an all too familiar beeping coming from the woman's jacket. Miri swore under her breath in Russian as they approached the next red light, and then she started to dig in her pocket.
Two beeps – work was calling.
For the next few moments, Andy didn't move. She couldn't even look at the woman next to her as she grumbled into her communication device. It was a mix of Russian and what sounded like Hebrew, though it might have been something else. After all, Miri had gotten around places before she had settled down in Bear Paw.
“I can't come, Scanner. I have my niece with me and I have to get her home!”
Andy felt her insides jump.
“Seriously, you can't....” Miri grumbled and ran a hand through her short white hair, mussing it so it stuck up in the back. “Shit, are you sure you can't get Richter?”
A few more moments of awkward conversation, before she sighed. “Alright. I'll drive there now. I better get paid double for this.”
And then she shut the communicator off. Andy was aware there was a pair of eyes drilling into the back of her head, but she didn't move. It was the hardest thing she had ever done, including trying to touch her toes.
If she could have, she would have been grinning.
“Before you get any ideas, you're staying in the damn car.” Miri punched in coordinates on her phone and turned onto a new road. “You're not even supposed to be with me when I'm working.”
Andy nodded, feeling like she could float. “Stay in the car, got it.”
Even if it was in the car, she was going. For the first time in her life, she was going to get to watch her aunt work in person. Somehow, her shitty day had just gotten a whole lot better as they continued down the road.
Now... just what were they going to find there?
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flightfoot · 5 years
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A Convergence of Apollos Chapter 4
Percy’s POV
We caught the subway to the Empire State Building.
I know, I know. We could’ve just walked, it wasn’t THAT far. But none of us felt like hauling an upset metal bird around farther than we had to. Plus, while I felt great (that rain did wonders for my energy), and Grover and Meg looked reasonably energetic, Apollo was BEAT. He’d been so excited about the new clothes he’d crafted... and had crashed a few minutes later. I’d thought I’d have to carry him to the subway, which would’ve been hard since I was already carrying the birdcage. I guess summoning all those things took a lot out of him.
Some other passengers looked at us disapprovingly as we hauled our bird cage around. I guess they didn’t like how rough we were being with our ‘pet’, but after what the Celedon had put us through, I REALLY didn’t care.
Apollo collapsed on a nearby seat, breathing hard. He didn’t look sleepy at least, just exhausted.
Was all of this tiredness just from playing the lyre?
Then again, I didn’t know what he’d been doing BEFORE he materialized in the park...
Now seemed as good a time as any to find out.
“Hey Apollo?”
He looked up at me wearily. “Yeah?”
“How DID you wind up time traveling anyways?”
He let out a long sigh. “Meg and I were looking through Tarquin’s Tomb-”
“Who’s Tarquin?”
“The last Roman Emperor. He was SO bad, he was overthrown and the Roman Republic was instated.”
Apollo continued, “Anyways, we were looking through his tomb for the Sibylline books, which contain a lot of ancient prophecies. I always thought they’d been burned, but apparently not. At least, not all of them. We didn’t really know where to look, so Meg and I just kinda wandered around trying not to die.”
I nodded sagely. “Always the best plan. Dying sucks. No blue food in Elysium.”
Ok, so I didn’t actually know whether that last one was true. But considering how happy the dead were with simple Happy Meals, I figured that they didn’t have very good food down there.
Apollo laughed, a bit more life returning to his face. I grinned back at him. Was this really the same person who’d proclaimed that heroes were for running the god’s errands? He just seemed like another kid, like another demigod, fighting beside us and trying not to let anyone he cared about die, or die himself.
I still didn’t get how a god could change so drastically, but maybe... maybe they really weren’t that different?
This kind, dorky teen... maybe this side of Apollo was hidden away in the present Apollo too.
I hoped so.
Apollo chuckled, “Well, I don’t know about THAT, but I agree about dying. Pretty sure my sister would charge into the Underworld herself, drag me back, then kill me again for dying on her.”
Yes, that did sound like Artemis.
“ANYWAY, getting back on track here, we searched the tomb for awhile with no success.”
“Unless you call ‘getting chased by your nose moss’ a success,” Meg cut in.
“Eurynomos,” Apollo corrected.
“Whatever.”
“So I asked my magic prophetic arrow where I needed to go-”
I knew I shouldn’t interrupt, but I HAD to ask. “Magic prophetic arrow?”
“The Arrow of Dodona. It talks in a fake Shakespearean accent and insults me constantly. It’s quite annoying. Plus I’m the only one who can hear it, so I look like a crazy person when I consult it.”
Well, not the weirdest thing I’d heard of. Heck, not the weirdest thing I’d heard of TODAY.
“The arrow told me to go to a particular room and find a cloth woven from Fate’s threads. We searched around for awhile and found it tucked away in a chest. Then SOMEONE-” Apollo glared at Meg, who looked back, completely unperturbed, “-thought it was a brilliant idea to grab hold of something woven by the Fates themselves. I grabbed onto Meg, we vanished, then fell onto the ground with a bad case of motion sickness. And, well, you know the rest.”
I frowned. “Do you know how to get back to your time? WHETHER you can get back?”
Apollo closed his eyes, his brows furrowing. “I- I hope we can get back. No, we MUST get back. Our friends need us! I have to believe that the Arrow set us on this path for a reason.”
“Wow, you have a lot of faith in that Arrow,” I observed.
Apollo laughed wryly. “Nope. But if I allow myself to believe that we’ll never get home and that all our friends and family will die, I’m going to panic.”
Oh. Fair enough.
I decided to change subjects.
“So anything you can tell me about what’s gonna happen? Anything that will help?”
Apollo was quiet for a moment, thinking. Finally he spoke.
“First of all, you should know that I’m only from two years into the future. It’s going to be a BUSY two years. And I don’t remember that much. I wasn’t paying much attention to the world around me all of the time. Also, shoving four thousand years of memories into a mortal brain REALLY doesn’t work well. I’ve forgotten a lot, and what I DO remember isn’t always useful. But I’ll try to help.”
“Typhon was freed, and we gods left to fight him - well most of us, anyway. We didn’t succeed against him until Poseidon joined the fight.”
Apollo looked at me thoughtfully. “I believe that you were the one to convince him to intervene. I don’t remember how you persuaded him, unfortunately.”
He continued while I mulled that over, “Typhon was a distraction. While he kept us gods busy, you demigods defended Mount Olympus from Kronos’s forces.” 
He frowned, looking at me, “I don’t remember a lot of details, but I remember this much: the fight started a few days before your birthday, and ended ON your birthday. You’re the child who reached sixteen, but NOT the Hero of the Prophecy. LUKE was the hero. He chose to save Olympus at the last second.”
Wait, what? “Uh, Apollo, you realize that I’ve never actually heard the full prophecy, right?”
He blinked.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You should probably learn it then. If I remember right, it goes:
A half-blood of the Eldest gods
Shall reach sixteen, against all odds.
And see the world in endless sleep.
Hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.
A single choice shall end his days,
Olympus to preserve or raze.
Well that didn’t sound great. Then again, prophecies rarely did. 
I pressed Apollo for details, wanting every bit of foreknowledge I could get. “What choice did Luke make? What endless sleep? What’s the cursed blade?”
Apollo shook his head. “I’m sorry Percy. I don’t remember.”
Looking at his mournful face, I believed him.
“So what else CAN you tell me?”
He hesitated for a moment. Carefully, he asked, “Percy? Do you remember how I mentioned Thalia’s brother?”
I nodded. How could I forget?
“Well, the reason he and Thalia were separated, the reason she was led to believe he was dead... is because he’s ROMAN, not Greek.”
What?
The confusion must have been clear on my face. Apollo elaborated, “We gods change to fit the culture we’re in. The longer and deeper the impact of that culture on us and the more different that image is, the more we differ. For most of us gods we default to Greek as our sort of ‘base’ form, but we have Roman forms as well who can look act differently. We sometimes have kids while we’re in Roman form. Those kids don’t go to Camp Half-Blood. Instead they travel to the Wolf House, where Lupa decides whether they’re strong enough to train. If she accepts them, then she’ll train them off and send them towards Camp Jupiter. If not... well... let’s just say that Lupa isn’t kind to the weak. And she doesn’t mind the taste of demigod flesh.”
I felt slightly ill. “How many does she... erm... usually fail?”
Apollo thought for a moment. “You know, I can’t actually remember her failing anyone in recent decades. I wasn’t paying much attention to Camp Jupiter though, so I can’t say for sure.”
Well that was comforting.
“Anyway, Hera was FURIOUS when Jason was born. Bad enough Zeus cheated on her with that mortal, but to then go back a few years later and have ANOTHER child with the same woman? He went too far. Jupiter, Zeus’s Roman form, gave Hera - or rather Juno - Jason’s life, even naming him after her favorite mortal as an attempt to appease her. Because naming one of his kids in her honor went SO WELL with Heracles. Luckily she took a liking to Jason. By ‘taking a liking’ I mean that she told his mother to hand him over to the wolves when he was two years old. Both she and Thalia assumed the wolves had killed him. No one corrected them. Greek and Roman demigods were supposed to be kept separate.
“But why?” I asked. “Wouldn’t we be stronger together?”
He tilted his head towards me, giving me a small smile. “Indeed you would be - if you could stop fighting.”
I frowned. “Why would we fight each other?”
“Greeks and Romans have a long-standing grudge against each other,” Apollo explained. “It didn’t help that some gods and goddesses did NOT take the Greek-to-Roman transition well. Most notably Athena.”
Annabeth’s mom?
I leaned forwards slightly. Annabeth would DEFINITELY want to know about this, if she didn’t already. “What happened to Athena?”
“The Romans stripped her of her status as a war goddess, reduced her to a goddess of crafts and wisdom, and stole her most sacred statue. They tried to break Greece’s spirit by stealing the Athena Parthenos. They succeeded, but they made a powerful enemy. Athena has NEVER forgiven the Romans for disrespecting her like that. She’s pushed the two sides to fight ever since, hoping that the Greeks would crush the Romans. There’s already a natural animosity between the two sides, it doesn’t take much of a push to get them fighting. After the Civil War, which had Greeks and Romans fighting and killing each other, we gods decided to interfere to stop our children from murdering each other. Athena disapproved of course, but she was outvoted. We increased the level of Mist around your groups, erasing all memories of the others existence from your minds. We kept an eye on any quests where you guy were likely to pass close by, increasing the Mist whenever you almost stumbled across each other. It worked! ... For a while.”
“What changed?”
Apollo grimaced. “Great-grandma started waking up.”
“Who?”
Apollo shook his head. “I don’t want to say her name. Best not to attract her attention. Ask Annabeth. She should know.”
I filed that info away for later. “What’s so terrible about your great-grandmother waking up?”
“She wants to destroy all of humanity and all the Olympian gods. She actually had some kids, the Giants, who she made for the sole purpose of destroying each of the Olympians.”
“She had kids JUST to use as an army?”
“Yep.”
“That’s messed up.”
“I’m not going to disagree with that.”
“Anything special about these Giants? Are they just like the Titans, but bigger?”
Apollo looked pained and... guilty? “It’s worse than that. The Giants can’t be defeated by a mortal or a god working alone. They can only be killed by a god and a mortal working together.”
My heart sank. “So the gods obviously teamed up with all of us demigods and helped us send them packing, right?”
“Well...” Apollo rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed and ashamed. “You see... Father thought that maybe if we gods holed up and didn’t interact with the mortal world, that great-grandma might settle down. She didn’t.”
“Gods disobey Z- your father all the time, though! They helped, right?”
“I... guess so?”
“You guess?”
“I was kinda hiding for most of the war, so I was out of the loop.”
I frowned. “Why were you hiding? Shouldn’t you have been helping fight the Giants?”
Now he REALLY looked ashamed. “I... may have had a role in making things more difficult. Unintentionally, of course.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to continue. After a moment, he did. “One of the Campers at Camp Jupiter was a descendant of mine named Octavian. He told me that he’d make Rome strong, like it was back in the old days. That he’d make sure I was honored as one of the most important gods, above even Zeus! I liked the sound of that. I gave him my blessing. I ignored his hatred of the Greeks and his growing instability. He told me what I wanted to hear, so I ignored the warning signs.”
Apollo avoided my eyes, but kept on talking. “When Camp Half-Blood sent an envoy to Camp Jupiter, it looked like things would go well... at first. Then an Eidolon, a spirit, possessed one of the Greek demigods and forced him to fire on the Camp. The Romans assumed that the diplomatic envoy was a trick and promptly declared war on the Greeks. Luckily they didn’t know exactly where Camp Half-blood was. All of the Seven had to get out of there in a hurry.”
I frowned. “The Seven?”
Apollo blinked. “Oh yeah. You guys don’t have that prophecy yet. It went like this:
Seven half-bloods shall answer the call,
To storm or fire, the world must fall,
An oath to keep with a final breath,
And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death
“The ‘world falling’ sounds pretty bad,” I observed.
Apollo rolled his eyes. “It’s not, actually. This is one of those cases where the prophecy is PURPOSELY deceptive. ‘The world’ is great-grandma, it’s foretelling her defeat. As for the Seven, they are you, Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Leo Valdez, Frank Zhang, Hazel Lavesque, and Jason Grace. Frank, Hazel, and Jason are Roman.”
I wasn’t thrilled about being part of ANOTHER prophecy, but at least I’d survive past sixteen. 
Apollo continued his story. “We gods are reflections of the culture we come from. When our two groups of children started fighting, the Greek and Roman sides of ourselves started fighting too. Gave most of us SPLITTING headaches, incapacitating us. Well, except for those of us who were either exclusively Greek or Roman, or who were pretty much the same in both forms. So most of us couldn’t help even if we wanted to. But I had an additional problem.”
Apollo stared at his feet. “One of the Praetors, Reyna, was pretty reasonable. She tried to rein in the Legion. But then she had to leave, and OCTAVIAN took control of the Legion. He took my blessing as a sign that whatever he had planned had my full support. He thought that the best way to ‘solve’ the gods’ headache problem and ‘save’ New Rome, was to wipe out the Greeks entirely. Father blamed me for Octavian’s poor decision, and decided to blame me for basically the entire war.”
He smiled bitterly. “I think he just wanted to scapegoat someone, pin the blame on anyone who wasn’t him. Him sticking his head in the sand had made things way more difficult than they needed to be, and he didn’t want to look weak or stupid. Not after the embarrassment of the Second Titan War. He was SO angry with me. But he couldn’t harm me on Delos, mine and Artemis’s birthplace. Being on Delos also protected Artemis and I from the incapacitating headaches. We sat out the whole war there, until the Greeks and Romans made up. That united us gods’ essences, allowing us to FINALLY recover enough to fight back. All of us gods rushed in to fight off the Giants with you Seven, defeating them easily. Then Father called me forwards, blamed me for the war, and sent me to Olympus. I can’t remember anything else until six months later, when I awoke, mortal, hurtling out of the sky, and landed in a dumpster.”
I winced. Sounded like gods weren’t necessarily any more caring towards their divine children than their demigod ones. 
Apollo’s voice cracked, self-loathing seeping in. “I discovered just how BLIND we gods had been! Some Roman Emperors managed to make themselves immortal. They’ve been plotting their takeover for MILLENNIA. They helped fund Kronos’s army and Octavian’s attack on Camp Half-blood. They’ve been kidnapping young demigods and raising them to serve in their army.”
The subway started to slow down. “What do I need to know?” I asked hurriedly. I had a nagging sensation that I wouldn’t get to talk to Apollo much longer after this.
Evidently Apollo felt the same way, as he spoke hurriedly while the four of us (plus the bird) departed the subway and headed towards our rendevous with the current Apollo.
“If campers start to go missing a few months after the Second Giant War ends, it’s probably due to the Grove of Dodona regrowing itself in Camp Half-blood and calling for help. Nero tries to burn the grove and attacks Camp Half-Blood with the Colossus Nero. The Cave of Trophonious is in Indianapolis. Georgina was being held prisoner by Commodus. If that happens in this timeline as well, you’ll need to break into Commodus’s palace to rescue her. She also might be my daughter, not sure on that one. And- and then there’s-”
His voice cracked, ”There’s Caligula. His forces attacked Camp Jupiter shortly after I consulted Trophonious. Leo flew away to warn them. Meanwhile, Meg, Grover, and I left to rescue Herophile, another one of my Oracles, who Caligula had locked up. But we needed to retrieve his sandals in order to navigate the Labyrinth - that’s where she was being kept, yes it came back, no, I don’t know how. That’s when everything went wrong.”
A small sob escaped Apollo’s throat. “Jason, he- he’d gotten a prophecy MONTHS ago, saying that we’d only succeed if he and Piper came with Meg and I on our quest, but that either he or Piper would die. He decided right then that it WOULDN’T be Piper. He fought off Caligula long enough for us to get away, but died in the process. Crest - he’s a Pandos - he helped us get away. He helped us the next day too. He held off Medea, stopped her from destroying me, at the cost of his own life. We would’ve been finished if not for-”
Apollo startled, wide-eyed. “The Silver Wives! The Meliai! If we had just waited until they’d woken up, Crest would still be alive!”
He grabbed me urgently. “Percy. There are several special seeds that Meg’s family had been working on for MILLENNIA. They’re at her childhood home, Aeithales. Meg MUST be the one to plant them. Only she can make them grow. Wait to attack until those dryads are awake if possible. They’ll be invaluable.”
I nodded. “I will.”
Apollo let out a breath of relief and let go. 
The four of us rounded the corner. I saw the god Apollo pacing around by the Empire State Building, waiting for us. And beside him...
Mortal Apollo stood still for a moment, slack-jawed. Then he came to his surges and surged towards the second figure desperately, the three of us following in his wake.
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Cries of Thunder
Chapter One
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Summary: (Post Ragnarok, No Thanos) Asgard is gone, and the Asgardians are living as refugees on the uninhabited portion of land Odin had shown Thor and Loki before his death. Shorn of his hair and missing an eye, Thor finds solace with his friends at the Tower in New York where he meets her. A woman of quiet poise, beauty, and grace.
Fallon. Receptionist for the Tower, she worked hard, drank too much coffee, and seemed to run everywhere. A friend of Pepper’s, Thor longed to get closer, but for every step he took toward her, she took two in reverse. The fear in her eyes broke his heart.
What horrible thing happened in her past to have her looking at him with such eyes? Where was she always rushing off too? And when he learns of her past, can the disillusioned King teach Fallon to trust again, or will his own insecurities after the loss of his home keep him from being there for her when her world comes crashing down.
Pairing: Thor Odinson x OFC  |  Word Count: 3538 Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, hard themes, small angst
He was smitten. That was the only excuse for his long, rather sullen sigh. Truly, completely, down to the bones, smitten. Thor was certain he'd never seen such pretty hair. A deep, glossy brown shot through with golds and blondes. It gleamed like faceted topaz, but he couldn't understand why she wore it up in the ugly knot at the back of her head all the time.
Her name was Fallon Smith, receptionist for Stark Tower, and lovely dragoness at the gate when it came to people enquiring after the Avengers.
Every morning he stood on the second-floor landing, watched her rush in, put her purse under the desk, smooth out her rather plain jacket and skirt, and make ready to face the day. She'd smile for Geoff and Mark, the security officers on duty, and get to work.
Thor couldn't help but notice she was a voluptuous woman, wider of hip and fuller of breast than most Midgardian women found acceptable. If her food choices were anything to go by, he suspected she felt the same. Always picking at a salad while peering covetously at the sweets in the display case of the coffee shop within the lobby of the Tower.
Coffee was another thing he noticed she drank with startling frequency. He was surprised she didn't drown in the quantities she downed or slosh when she walked.
At the end of the day, she would gather her things and run out again. Always in a hurry.
He wondered where she went in such a rush. There was no ring on her finger, and frankly, after a weekend, she often looked more exhausted than she had before it. Thor would have asked, but he was uncertain when it came to approaching women of Earth, something which surprised him.
With Jane, the introduction had been easy as she'd hit him with her car. Twice. But how did one go about announcing their interest and ascertaining if it was reciprocated with a woman who seemed never to take a spare breath let alone an extra minute?
On Asgard, it had been as easy as sending a smile in the direction of the lady who'd caught his fancy, but Asgard was no more, as his hammer was no more.
And now, on Earth, the fair Fallon never even looked his way. It was frustrating and a blow to his ego.
“Why don't you just go talk to her?” Bruce asked as he came to lean against the second-floor railing at Thor’s side.
“I do not know how to start,” Thor admitted.
“How about with, “Hi, I'm Thor. Nice to meet you,” and go from there.”
“Would that work on this world?”
Bruce eyed him with exasperation. “Did you never talk to the women of Asgard?”
“When I wanted a woman, I simply smiled, and she fell at my feet,” he professed, shrugging as it wasn't a big deal.
“Yeah… you're gonna want a different game plan here, buddy.” Bruce shook his head and patted Thor’s shoulder.
“Hm. I will think on it.” Turning away from his daily dose of Fallon, Thor headed off to train with Steve.
***
Fallon breathed a sigh of relief when the big blond walked away. She had no idea what she'd done to gain Thor’s attention, but she wished he'd stop staring at her.
Years ago when he'd first appeared in all that armour with all that hair, she'd had a moment of heartstopping hello before Jay had come in and-
She slammed the door on thoughts of her ex. That was not a road of memories she wished to travel down. Not today. Not ever. She was safe. She was hidden. There was no way he was ever coming back into her life.
When the phone before her rang, she pasted on a smile and went to work, but thoughts of Thor would not leave her be. The King of Asgard filled her mind with too much regularity. She had to admit she liked the shorter hair he now wore and found the golden eye patch to be, well, rakish. Like a pirate in one of her guiltily read romance novels, the ones she kept in her purse to enjoy while on lunch.
They had outlandish covers and words like heaving bosoms which made her giggle, and the women in them were not the rail-thin ones of today. They were broad of hip and soft of breast, voluptuous and thick, more in keeping with her own body’s shape. Reading them didn't give her a complex like some of the modern magazines did. They were so damn cheesy, but she loved them, and there wasn't much time for the things she loved in her life anymore.
Except for them. Her babies.
Fallon glanced at her phone and quickly pressed the home button to light up the front. There on the screen appeared Dylan all of four with his baby brother nestled in his arms and his sister in the carrier beside him. Having a four-year-old and eighteen-month-old twins didn't allow Fallon much time for anything but them.
Weekdays they went to a secure daycare, one which required logins and passwords and had strict rules about who picked up her children, and weekends were spent being a single mom. Running errands with three babies, laundry, cooking, and playtime to make up for leaving them all day during the week. She didn't have the time or the energy for giant Asgardians with hair like sunshine and a smile just as bright.
Her job paid exceptionally well, thank heaven, for everything was expensive in New York. Raising three kids in the big city afforded her the anonymity she needed, but it came with an enormous price tag.
The phone on the desk rang, distracting her from her musings. “Yes, Miss Potts?”
“Fallon, it's just me. You can use my name.”
“I know, Pep. It feels weird when you're my boss.”
“Tony is your boss. I just work here.”
“You're so full of crap,” Fallon muttered.
Pepper giggled. “I need you to come up. Is Kenneth there yet?”
She looked up in time to watch the man rush in the door. “Of course.” Fallon gave him the stink eye as he mouthed I'm sorry and hurried over.
“Mm, I'm sure,” Pepper grumbled. “Rushing in the door is he?”
“Been here at least ten minutes.” She mouthed back, you so owe me, and Kenneth nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
“Well, as he is there, grab the box waiting at the coffee shop and head on up.”
“Be right there,” she murmured and hung up to glare at her co-worker. “What was it this time?”
Kenneth didn’t even bother to look contrite, only smiled as he unwrapped his emerald green scarf from around his neck and ran a hand through his short crop of slicked back hair. It was always immaculate, a rich buttery caramel she'd kill for, and he had such beautiful skin. It was as if the dermatology Gods had blessed him. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement and his lips spread to reveal his perfect chicklet teeth. At five foot ten, fit, fun, and fabulous described Kenneth to a T. He was wonderfully comfortable in his flesh, unapologetically gay, and someone she counted a friend when she didn't have many.
“Not what, beautiful! Who,” he purred as he folded his jacket and slipped it and his bag in a drawer. “Girl, let me tell you. I met a fine piece of beef last night I just couldn’t say no too. We ended up back at his place, and one thing led to another...” He grinned wickedly while waggling his eyebrows.
“Let me guess. You had to rush home and change, cause lord knows you couldn’t possibly wear the same outfit to work twice in a row?” she teased.
Kenneth shot her a pair of finger guns. “Honey, some of us take pride in our appearance.” His eyes widened in horror before he slapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh, damn, Fallon! I didn’t mean to imply…”
She didn’t let the hurt show. “Hey, it’s fine. I know you didn’t.” With a wave, she walked away, heading toward the coffee shop, feeling fat and frumpy and horrible about herself all over again.
Her serviceable black shoes with their thick heel clunked along against the marble. It felt like every eye turned her way, drawing attention to her when that was the last thing Fallon wanted. Her plain, ill-fitting suit - too tight in the hips and wrinkled - was one of two she owned. The other one, the one which fit her slightly better, was the one she preferred, but Emma had successfully spit up all over her five minutes before they were supposed to leave for daycare, leaving Fallon with no other option but to wear the one she hated.
“Fallon.” Cindy, the barista smiled. “Here. Miss Potts called down for these.” She handed over a pink pastry box.
“Thanks. Chocolate Danish?”
“And bear claws!” she said, her perky attitude grating on Fallon’s already foul mood.
“Fabulous,” Fallon muttered, pasting on a smile as she walked away and headed for the elevator.
She reached out and pushed the button, stepped inside when the doors opened and leaned against the wall after pushing the button for the upper floors. The box smelled incredible. It made her mouth water even as she called herself twelve kinds of names, all of which had some connotation as fat to them.
Getting off on the thirty-seventh floor, she headed for Pepper’s office, smiled at Nancy her heavily pregnant assistant, and walked through the open door. “What did you need, Pep… per...” Fallon's voice trailed off as she stared wide-eyed at the three men in the room.
“Fallon! Great, just the woman I needed.” Pepper turned and smiled, her sleek hair tied back in a low tail which swung against her spine over a beautifully fitted pale green dress.
She looked incredible and sleek and made Fallon feel like a frumpy old granny. But it was the three men who made her want to hide in a corner.
Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Thor.
Immediately her pulse spiked and spots coloured her vision. Her hands went clammy, and she broke out in a cold sweat. Darting her eyes toward Pepper, she had to force herself not to crush the box of pastries.
Pepper’s eyes widened in understanding, and she swiftly crossed the room to link her arm through Fallon’s. “If you gentlemen will excuse us, Fallon and I have many things to discuss.”
Steve smiled and nodded, but his eyes betrayed his concern. He knew something. Fallon wasn't sure what or how much, but he suspected. Bucky was even worse. He watched her with those cold blue-eyed. Piercing. They appeared to see to the deepest darkest corners of her soul and had her shrinking toward Pepper. But it was Thor who made her heart pound when he stepped closer.
“Lady Fallon.” He reached toward her but she jerked back, and Pepper stepped smoothly between them.
“Thor, have a pastry.” She took the pink box from Fallon’s trembling fingers and thrust it at the blond with force.
It caused him to frown. Then something like sorrow crossed Thor’s features when he carefully lifted the lid on the box, selected a sweet, and walked out without another word. The other two men both nodded goodbye and left with Steve shutting the door behind him.
Fallon sat down hard on the coffee table behind her and shook all over. “Just give me a second,” she whispered to Pepper as she hugged herself and rocked back and forth.
“Fallon, I am so sorry. I wasn't thinking,” Pepper apologized, sinking down to hug her.
“Not your fault. Not your fault at all,” Fallon muttered, fighting the tears and rising panic attack.
It wasn't Pepper’s fault Fallon had fallen for the lies of a handsome man. It wasn't her fault he’d been a monster in disguise. And it was hardly Pepper’s fault it had taken Fallon nine long years to get away from the man who’d used and abused her to the point she'd nearly died.
No, Pepper was the one Fallon had turned to, for help to escape her prison. The only person Jay never knew about being in her life. The only person Fallon knew she could reach out to who would believe her when no one else could see past Jay’s mask and the web of lies.
Pepper had helped her escape, run with her children, document the abuse, and file for divorce. The big surprise had come when the investigators discovered Fallon and Jay had never legally married. It had all been a lie, right from the word go. Even her wedding had been a sham.
Jay had been livid, spewing threats and ultimatums at the lawyers they'd used to keep him from finding her. But between Pepper, and then Tony who Fallon was slowly growing more comfortable with, they'd managed to see Fallon granted full custody of her children, and a restraining order slapped on Jay.
As far as Fallon knew, Jay still lived in California and had no idea where she'd gone. But now she lived with an underlying fear of big men. She knew intimately just how hard they could hit, and just how badly they could hurt her.
Walking into Pepper's office to find three of the biggest Fallon had ever met scared the damn pants off her.
“I know I've told you this before, but you need to start believing it. No one here, especially one of those three, would ever lay a hand on you,” Pepper stated, running soothing circles over Fallon’s back.
“Knowing it and knowing it, are two totally different experiences, Pep,” Fallon sighed.
“Eat a Danish. Sugar makes everything better,” Pepper urged.
“And adds more fat to my ass. Thanks, but I'll pass. What did you need, Pepper?”
“An assistant.”
“You have an assistant,” Fallon frowned.
“Who’s ready to pop at any moment!” Pepper huffed. “I've insisted Nancy take a year off minimum so the position will be open at least that long. It comes with a pay bump, a big one, as well as a clothing allowance to refit your wardrobe. You’d have access to company vehicles, the good gym, and whatever perks I can think of later. You would have to be slightly more available.”
Fallon made to decline, but Pepper held up her hand.
“I'm not talking twenty-four seven. Just an evening now and then to attend a fundraiser or party. Which, of course, you'll be compensated for as well as have whatever you need for childcare.”
“Pepper! That's outrageous! You can't offer someone who has zero experience those kinds of perks!”
She huffed and waved a hand. “Of course I can! And don't give me that bull about no experience. I know damn well you could run this company better than I do. We went to school together, remember? I know exactly what your degrees are.”
“Pepper, come on!” Fallon sighed. “I'm not… I can't… I'm not right for this.”
“Yes, you are. I refuse to let you hide away the rest of your life because of him! There are plenty of good guys out there. It's time to stop hiding.”
“I'm not hiding! I'm surviving!” Fallon barked.
“Surviving isn't living, Fallon. Wouldn't it be nice to start living again?”
“I have three kids, Pepper. Right now, surviving is all I can hope for,” Fallon sighed. “They are what matters. Not me. Not my happiness.”
Pepper sighed and patted her knee. “Take the job. I promise it will be worth it. In the long run, it will help get you ahead so you can spend more time with your kids. Or put them in the building daycare. You know it's free for employees.”
“You've done more than enough, Pepper. I need to do some of this on my own.” And she needed to keep her work and home life separate.
“Please take the job,” Pepper said. “I need you, Fallon.”
She narrowed her eyes at the redhead when Pepper looked at her pleadingly. “That's dirty pool, and you know it, Pepper.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes, dammit. I'll take the job.”
“Excellent!” Pepper laughed and hugged her again. “Now, we're going shopping to spend that clothing allowance. I love you, Fallon, but your suits are hideous.”
“Yeah, well, not all of us are rail thin and six feet tall, Pep,” she grumbled. “And three children haven't exactly been kind to my body.” Nor had Jay been kind to her body, but Fallon didn't want to think about that.
“And if you buy clothes that fit your body, you'll feel better about it,” Pepper said sternly and dragged her to her feet. “I'm giving Nancy the rest of the day off. Tomorrow, you start up here with her, going over my schedule and getting familiar with things, but today, we can all use a day off.”
Pepper dragged Fallon toward the door. “And Kenneth better be on time because he’ll be training the new girl tomorrow.”
Fallon sighed a little behind Pepper's back. What she wouldn't give to have that type of spunk and confidence.
***
Thor pouted as he munched his Danish, only half listening to Barnes and the Captain as they walked away from Lady Pepper’s office.
“Must have been bad,” Steve murmured, “to make her that skittish.”
“You think Stark would know? Seeing as how she's friends with Pepper?”
“Probably. But whether Tony would be willing to tell us anything? I don’t know,” Steve sighed.
“Don't need to know everything,” Bucky grumbled. “Just enough to make sure the asshole won't be coming after Fallon.”
“Lady Fallon dislikes me,” Thor murmured. “And I don't know why. Did I do something wrong?”
Steve and Bucky stopped so fast Thor nearly walked into them both.
“No, Thor. You didn't do anything, but someone has.”
He frowned at Steve. “I do not understand.”
“Fallon doesn't dislike you, big guy,” Bucky sighed. “She’s afraid of us.”
Thor gasped. “But… we've barely exchanged a handful of words! I have done nothing for which she should be afraid!”
“No, Thor. Not you, us. She's scared of all of us. Either men in general, or just big guys,” Steve explained.
“Someone abused her,” Bucky said bluntly. “And bad enough to make her want to rabbit every time one of us enters the room.”
“She… someone hurt her?” He crushed the pastry in his hand. “I will speak with her. He must not go unpunished. She will tell me his name, and then she will never have to worry about him again!” Thor turned on his heel to head back toward Pepper's office when Steve grabbed one arm and Bucky grabbed the other.
“No!” they shouted.
“Think, Thor! If you go barging in there with threats and raised fists, you'll only scare her and be no better than the man she left!” Steve said.
“You like her, don’t you?” Bucky asked, a smile spreading.
Thor saw no harm in admitting it. “Yes. I find her intriguing and wish to know her better.”
“Then you can't rush her. She started here about a six months ago. That's not much time if she was abused and just managed to escape him. You're going to have to go slow. Earn her trust before you can win her heart.”
“I asked Banner about such things. I am.. uncertain in the ways of human interaction.  How do I express interest without…”
“Coming on too strong?” Bucky smirked and patted Thor’s shoulder. “I think we’d best skip the gym and go get a beer. If we're talking women, this could take a while.” Then he grinned at Steve. “Besides, the punk there could use some pointers too.”
“Kiss off, Buck,” Steve grumbled, red darkening his cheeks.
Thor clapped the Captain on the shoulder. "Thank you, my friends. I appreciate your assistance." The last thing he wanted to do was upset the fair Fallon or ever make her uncomfortable.
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thomasblanky-moved · 5 years
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day 10: in hot water
@12daysofcarnivale
rating: g characters: harry goodsir, henry collins, jane goodsir pairing: goodsir/collins word count: 3096 read on ao3
buy me a coffee!
harry had always been the type to bring home strays. the goodsir household was large and loud and even as a child, he’d scamper home with crayfish or crabs in buckets, or holding a big orange barn cat, or a baby bird. once he had even come home, a triumphant grin on his face, clutching a live grouse in his hands.
(his mother had nearly had a conniption over it being loose in the house, and then it was caught and butchered and harry had cried for days)
he supposed in a way he felt responsible for collins. he cared for him, of course, admired his gentleness even as the man himself shook to pieces, enjoyed the way his voice curled sweetly around harry’s name, had marveled in the way that collins had been able to point out every star and constellation and name each and every one of them. 
(”they’re different this far north,” collins had said, looking almost bashful about it, but something inside of him had seemed to settle and harry had smiled for it)
collins had been caught with a glancing blow from that monster out there on the ice- tuunbaq, blanky had once translated for them, and lady silence had looked small and mutinous- the impact of its great large paw cracking his ribs, claws rending flesh. the wounds were large and ugly, but survivable, and it had been lucky that collins hadn’t gone into shock or caught an infection; harry suspected that the latter at least was due to the coca wine that collins had pilfered, a mixed blessing.
harry had done his best to stitch him up and had felt guilty that out of all the men he could save, he was glad that collins was one of them.
and after, after, when they were swathed in wool blankets that weren’t threadbare and had bellies full of hot food that wasn’t ridden with lead, when the bandages that were wrapped ‘round collins’s middle were fresh and clean instead of tattered, the man will look so small and miserable that harry near aches with sympathy.
“do you have any family?” harry had asked him in his kindest voice, but collins’s shoulders had drawn up about his ears with a wince. “i could write them, if you wish, tell them that you’re safe. i’ll send the letter out with my own.”
“don’t.” he doesn’t know if collins had meant for the word to come out a whisper but it had, a rasping, sad sort of breath. “i don’t... i’m not well, doctor. in the head. don’t want them to see me like this, billy and harry and the girls. it’s not- i’d rather be dead, than come back to them like this.”
harry draws in a sharp breath at that; he had known that collins had been hurting, horribly so, but he hadn’t thought it had gone so deep to make collins value his life so little. he lays his hand over the other man’s, says, “do you have anywhere to go, once we return?”
collins shakes his head no, just the slightest movement.
“then you’ll come with me,” he decides. “nearly all my brothers have left for homes of their own, so there will be room enough at rosebank.”
that was how harry ended up walking down one of anstruther’s streets, collins near enough at his side that their arms brushed. they both looked rather ragged and disreputable, he was sure, but the streets around him felt familiar and close, inundated with childhood memories. he noticed different things, now, whether by separation or experience, and it fits strange on him like an old coat.
“that’s the baker’s shop,” harry says, pointing out the building as they pass; has  done this time and time again, bringing collins’s attention to some landmark and giving a childhood anecdote. “my younger brother robert- bob, really- was sweet on one of the daughters. he’d spend all his money on pastries he didn’t like just to talk to her, and he’d blush and stutter his way through every time.”
later he gestures at the beach as they climb the hill, says,  “i used to spend days out there in the sand. i would bring things back to the house- crabs, mostly- and be scolded for it, but it never stopped me. that’s what i did before, you know; i studied crabs.”
the before what didn’t need to be specified.
collins smiles a little, small, and something lightens in his face as he pauses to look out over the water. “my sister maggie, margaret,” he says, “she loved birds. she’d point out every one we saw, but i couldn’t ever remember all the names.”
harry smiles, too, and just barely touches their fingers together before they continue up the hill.
rosebank was a decently sized house, tiled roof and white-washed walls, and a fixture in harry’s life for as long as he could remember it. this was what he thought of when he had buoyed himself dreaming of home: this house, his parents, his siblings. the big garden that his mother and jane had loved; the work lab that he and john had constructed in the attic; the foul words that robert had carved into tree trunks when they were children.
“that’s it there?” collins asks, and harry nods. he is filled with equal parts trepidation and anxiety, a wanting to be there already while also wary of what he might find. “you’ve got a big house, doctor goodsir.”
he’s long given up any sense of humility regarding his titles; he is a doctor, an anatomist by education if not a surgeon by practice. a doctor goodsir in a family of doctor goodsirs. “i’ve a big family, too.”
the cobble road that lead to the house was the same as he remembered it, the bushes and flowers his mother had loved tenderly, the faded paint on the gate to the carriage house. a part of him had almost expected it to all be gone, to be changed with the way he had changed, these past long years.
“are you alright?” collins’s voice was soft, as if often seemed this days, but now out of compassion more than anything. harry runs a hand down his face, through the beard he’d grown during those months on the long march. he was sure he looked a fright, unshaven and framed by riotous dark curls, but he’d scarcely had time to look at himself in a mirror let alone make himself presentable.
they’d just have to take him as he was, then.
the flat stones that marked the way to the door were the same, grass a bit more overgrown between the cracks without a constant and steady stream of traffic to keep it trampled. the door was the same, the white wash on the walls, the creeping ivy that his mother had tried so hard for years to get rid of. he raises his hand to knock on the door, then decides to try the knob. 
it was his home, after all, no matter how long he’d been gone. he shouldn’t have to knock to enter his own home.
the door was unlocked and so he pushes it open and the house is quiet, too quiet even for only two people. harry frowns and he hears collins shift closer, just the barest rustle of fabric, and he reaches back for the other man’s hand, reassured slightly when warm fingers tangle with his own. perhaps it was his experiences that had made him so paranoid and distrustful of silence, his neck prickling with awareness; he’d spent so long surrounded by a crush (and then a lessening, lessening number) of men that quiet had become foreign to him. 
harry closes the door behind him because he was raised, well, here, and not in a barn, meaning that he had some sense of decency. collins is peering about, his face pinched in that perpetual expression of vague despair that has seemingly come to be his norm.
“you’re sure you lived here, doctor?” collins’s voice is pitched low, and harry would have thought it was a joke had he not known the man as well as he did. he opens his mouth to respond, perhaps a bit put out, but a creak on the stairs makes him look up, the nearly spiral staircase that always squeaked no matter the step.
harry feels something lodge in his throat. “jane?”
“harry?”
they stay at rosebank some few weeks, a season or maybe more. harry is glad for it; anstruther is a sleepy, quiet town, contained and familiar and free of painful reminders. collins, too, seems more settled, something lighter in his eyes, the set of his shoulders. he has been thinking of things to write to his family, to tell them that he is not well but that he is getting better, and that he hopes to see them all soon; harry helps him, sometimes, when the words get caught somewhere between his brain and his pen.
but there was grief here, too, empty spaces where people should have been. he would walk into the sitting room and expect to see his father sitting in front of the fireplace, or at his desk in the study; if he listened close enough, he swore that he could hear archie’s laughter. jane was the only one here, now, and he felt almost bad for her, all alone in the house.
the others visit by turn, john and robert and joseph. harry is glad for it, pathetically so. the first time harry is alone with john he clings to him and sobs like a child, while his brother combs his fingers through his hair, only a little bit awkward. robert, on his own, ribs harry gleefully about it all, but there’s relief in his voice when he says that he had sailed, twice, to find him and came home wanting.
(it is joseph that harry worries for, joseph who comes home and looks thin and sad and ill but so very glad that harry has returned, who holds his face in shaking hands as if he couldn’t believe that this was all real and pulls him into a tight, crushing embrace. harry reminds himself to ask john his thoughts in his next letter.)
he is getting better. they are getting better.
jane seemed taken with collins, which harry was grateful for, but even more than that he was relieved to see that collins rather liked her, as well. she gave him tasks, harry knew, to keep him busy: running errands or washing dishes or chopping wood or pulling up whatever crop she had decided was good enough to harvest. and then they would all sit down together for dinner and it would be cozy, and domestic, and everything that harry had been almost certain he would never see again.
so harry enjoys the little things he had previously put aside or never had time for. he goes back to studying crabs; he collects seashells. some shaggy tortoiseshell with a cropped tail follows collins home from the grocer one morning, and instead of chasing her off they decide to keep her; he names her apollonia (“polly, for short.”) and feeds her scraps off the table, to jane’s eternal vexation.
they go to the beach, sometimes, he and collins. they take off their shoes and socks and roll up their trousers to wade around in the tide pools, laughing and shouting as the cold waves lap over their ankles and sand seeps between their toes. collins says to him, “we used to do this when we lived in hartlepool, george and i.”
“george?”
“my brother,” collins says, and there’s something sad in his voice. “my twin, really.”
harry makes a surprised noise at that, glances over curiously. “i didn’t know you were a twin.”
the barest shrug of shoulders answers him. “i’m not, anymore.”
he backtracks, then, says, “you don’t sound as if you were from hartlepool.”
“never stayed in one place for more than a few years.” collins plucks a stone out of the sand, deep black and smooth, edges rounded; he tries to skip it but it falls flat into the water with a plop. “my father was navy, and we followed his postings. sussex is where me and george were born. hal and billy in hartlepool; maggie, some place in ireland; tamsin, decima, and lizzy were all popped out in liverpool, but by that time i was already sailing.”
“my family have all been doctors,” harry offers. he plants his hands on his hips and stretches his back, cracks his neck. “my father, my grandfather. john, bob, archie, and myself all studied medicine. we were all born here, too, along with jane and baby agnes, except for joseph. he was born in lower largo, but that’s only a few hours’ walk from here, so i’m not sure it counts.”
it’s the most harry’s ever heard collins talk about his family; occasionally there would be some throw away comment, something one of his siblings had said, or that his sister like this kind of chocolate or his brother broke an arm while climbing a tree. little, inconsequential things, but he’d never had names to go with them. he decided that having a brood of siblings rather suited a man like Collins.
“you’ve a good family, doctor goodsir,” collins tells him, and harry smiles. “you all seem very close.”
“we are. were.” it’s tinged with grief; archie’s loss still hurt, sometimes, like a healing wound. “and please, call me harry. i’ve told you this before, mister collins.”
“you have,” collins cedes, “but you’ve never called me henry, either.”
it is winter the first time harry kisses collins, a bit over a year since they had first stumbled up the hill to rosebank, ragged and tired and battered. and it’s very much that way, harry kissing collins, because harry is the one that fair falls forward while collins’s hands hover, surprised and unsure, and harry is the one that breaks it, too.
there is snow on the ground outside, falling in fat, crystalline flakes, and harry finds that he hates going out into it, but not nearly as much as collins, who takes up a near permanent position in the kitchen, wrapped up in a tartan by the stove as he tries to learn how to knit. the cold was in them, now, deep in their bones and dredging up old nightmares.
they stay indoors. harry sends john his papers to be published, collins tries to knit, and a boy from down the lane chops their wood.
the kiss itself is neither coordinated nor particularly good. harry doesn’t know why he dies it, really; perhaps some latent impulse. he was terribly fond of collins, though, and at this point the man knew him better than anyone else; not his past, perhaps, but his thoughts.
so, harry kisses him.
collins is watching him wide-eyed when he rocks away, fingers clutched in a half-woven glove, his mouth slightly parted. he looked utterly gob smacked and harry swallows down the hysterical laugh that crawls up his throat.
“i’m sorry, henry,” he babbles, “i don’t know what- that is, i didn’t. i’m not. i’m sorry-“
“harry,” collins says, and though his voice is small, harry stops talking immediately. it’s a rare moment when collins uses his name.
“…yes?”
collins’s hand is shaking slightly as he reaches out to brush his fingertips across harry’s cheek, light as a feather, and harry’s eyes flutter shut. his palms are rough, callouses that had cracked in the cold catching on harry’s beard, but the gesture is tender nonetheless. harry covers collins’s hand with his own.
“did you mean it?” collins asks, seriously.
“of course,” harry says.
collins smiles at that, something small and shy and unsure, but it’s a start.
“you’re as bad as john,” jane scolds harry, “and not even half as subtle.”
she has him cornered after dinner, having requested his help with cleaning up. collins had given them both a quizzical look- often he was the one cleaning up, always volunteering- but jane shoos him off and he goes, polly cradled in his arms.
“pardon?” he says. he tells himself he’s not intimidated- that he’s seen worse, done worse- but jane had always had something of their mother in her, and her ability to loom over him despite her height was one of them.
“i don’t care what you do to henry in your spare time,” she says hotly, and she has a finger pressed to his chest, a scowl upon her face. there is the just tiniest beginnings of bags beneath her eyes, and harry swallows. “or what he does to you. but you could at least be quiet about it, else your wailing is like to wake the neighbors and send me to an early grave with exhaustion.”
harry remembers, suddenly, that their rooms share a wall.
“it’s not like that, jane,” he protests, a hot flush crawling up his neck, even though it plainly was. “it’s-“
“i don’t care!”
his mouth snaps shut, cowed into quiet for a moment, and then frowns. “what does john have to do with anything?”
the look that jane gives him is pure disbelief paired with a noise of disgust, and she turns on her heel and strides from the room, leaving harry to clean up dinner alone.
collins sends a letter to his family in late spring of ’53, nearly two full years since they had escaped the arctic.
he was happier than he had been before, harry knew, smiled more and had nightmares less. he was still quiet, still shy and sometimes drifting, but he was leaps and bounds better than the miserable, haunted creature that had first followed harry to anstruther. there were things that had come back with them and things that they had left behind, harry knew, and they would never be the same as they were before it all, before all the death and fear and horror.
(he thought, sometimes, of lady silence, whether she had survived it all and what she was doing if she had, and his heart will swell and collapse inwards under the weight of it all and harry knows that this, too, will never leave him.)
collins writes only one letter, to his mother, and it takes him nearly two weeks to do so. harry walks with him to post it, and they walk close enough side by side that their fingers brush on the way home.
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bangtaninfiresmee · 5 years
Text
Kim Taehyung angst
“Him and I.
It was us against the world.
This world offered me great things in life, and he was one of them. I was young when the eclipse opened up a new world for me; that day was the day I took my first breath. The days I cried in my mother’s arms to me drinking from her. The days going faster as I grew up from the palace grounds, slowly reaching the doors. My height at quite an age grew as I began to transform into a young girl. A girl who learned the crooks and crannies of the entire palace and village. Besides the naughty mind that developed in me was also the young and sweet girl who helped around every chance she get. At a young age I knew what I wanted to be, what I had to be. My life consisted of a golden path that was made for me to prosper. My household was known throughout the entire nation. My father who was known as the king in the Midwest region, my mother the queen. Hong was my oldest brother and he would soon take my father’s place. Yuna, the loved daughter. And then there was me.
I remembered everything as my young days crumbled beneath me. From my father and mother arguing about the same topic over and over again to my brother taking me out of the room. It was a repeating process. But like an apple falling, soon my young days were over. I became a grown woman. A woman who met eye to eye with him the day he came into my palace.
The sun was bright and the weather was warm that afternoon. I wore a red silk outfit with my hair up in style while he on the other hand in white. The look on his face when he found me was fascinating. I on the other hand, astounded. We met and exchanged a quick smile before I had to leave in order to blush in private. That day was the best day of my life; that was also the day we both fell in love. Everyday since then him and I would talk for hours, even up until the sun began to set. I remembered it was weird at first because we barely knew each other, but once we became comfortable, it was as if I had known him forever. He was my missing piece to my incomplete life. He pulled me together and made me whole. We would talk about the darndest things yet still make a full conversation out of it. Some days we’ll have serious talks or even moments. Like that time he and I locked eyes while talking about the sun and the moon and just like that, like the Lunar eclipse, our lips met. That day was one I’ll never ever forget. It was like a dream. A dream I wish to never end.
Meeting him was never a problem. I got to see him everyday. I remember my father asked me of him one day while I was running an errand for my mother.
“Is that the prince from the South province?”
“Yes father.”
“I see you both have been spending a great amount of time together.”
I couldn’t answer him. I was too flustered and in love to answer my own father.
“Well,” he starts, “carry on with whatever your mother wants you to do.”
I couldn’t believe he let me off that easy. I was a happy mess. I remembered bowing and running off in a hurry, smiling like crazy. A few nights passed since I last saw Taehyung. I was aching.
I wanted to see him and hug him but he was too busy with the ongoing war. Then one night, he came back out of the blue. It was the night he pulled me in for a long kiss, saying the ancient words, ‘I love you.’ We vowed to one another that we would plead our fathers to arrange a marriage for the both of us and that we would love each other no matter what. No matter what happened, no matter the outcome of it, our love would keep us going. He would keep me going. I would keep him going.
but I never did keep him going.
“why father..”
“it is not your job to marry him.”
“i love him!”
“he doesn’t love you!”
“yes he does!”
“he never loved you!”
“how would you know?!”
“he never would’ve told me to marry him to yuna if it wasn’t for you!”
The day of the wedding, I didn’t attend.
I sat out back on the bench in loneliness. I was crying. A teared mess. I could hear the explosive laughters and cheers ring from both sides of my ears.
‘If it wasn’t for me.’
I don't know what these words meant. He just.. he just.. vanished.. like we never existed. I don’t know how long I sat on that bench. By the time I got off, the moon was already out. Everyone was coming back to the palace and I knew I had to leave or else everyone would question my whereabouts. Luckily I went to bed just in time before I heard my name running through the entire palace. It wasn’t long before one of the maids opened up my room door and found out I was sleeping before going back to tell the others. The next day was Yuna’s departure day. I watched from afar as she got into the carriage with him. They both looked happy. He looked happy.
“Don’t forget to say goodbye to your older sister.”
I never did say goodbye to Yuna. After hours later, they finally left and I was finally at ease. Maybe it was because I would never see him ever again. Maybe that was why I was happy. Maybe that was why I hid myself in my room and cried for days because the thought of him caused me to ache. What we had in such a short amount of time.. was it even real? Was I just.. there? He was the cause of my heartache, but I was the cause of my illness. It wasn't long before I fell mentally ill over him. Instead of picking myself back up, I let myself hurt until I couldn't see. I can't remember how long it took me to heal and become healthy again, but I know that I would never be able to see the world again. Not my father. Not my sister. Not him.
Because of my confusion I took something away from me and now, I regret it. Love is dangerous and confusing. It’s a mysterious labyrinth that can cause one or all to fall. You either can escape it, or fall under it’s compulsion before your entire life is ruined right before your eyes. Like mine. I’m still confused and hurt over the past, but the past is the past and it cannot be undone. I’ve escaped the maze, and though i’ve hurt myself along the way, I’ve learned to live and to leave the past. I learned to live the present.” -- From Yuen (Y/n), princess of the midwest region; written by Lee Jin.
“Daddy! Daddy look what I found!”
A tiny little boy in white, ran past his father who was shouting his name.
“Byeol-ah! Please don’t run!”
Byeol ran until he reached the end of the hallway, picking up something. “Is this Aunt (Y/n)’s letters that she has been documenting?”
Kim Taehyung reached his son, picking him up rather confused with what he just said. Examining the letter, he noticed the red insignia stamped at the corner of the letter, signifying that it was her belonging. “Ah, she probably dropped it,” said Taehyung, taking the folded letter away from him. “It’s okay father! I’ll bring it to her!” he cackled with a grin. Taehyung put his son down as they began walking hand in hand. Somewhere along the road, he often questioned if his son inherited most of his genes or his wife, Yuna’s. Taking the corner turn, Taehyung and Byeol walk out of the palace and into the open area. “What did you mean when you said your aunt was writing letters?” They both stopped at the big maroon doors that led them outside the palace where Byeol’s mother was waiting for him. “I went to go visit aunt the other day and I overheard her talking to her servant, Lee Jin. Didn’t aunt tell you?” asked Byeol as they both made their way to Yuna. “Mommy!!” exclaims Byeol as Yuna spread her arms out wide for a hug.
“Oh I missed you! Are you ready to go to the village?” Taehyung watched as Byeol nodded.
Yuna grabbed Taehyung’s hand and caressed them. “I miss you,” she beams, giving him a peck on his cheeks. “ Oh- what’s that?” She pointed at the letter in his hand as he hid it behind him.
“It’s an important letter that was dropped. I should probably go return it to Eunuch Hong so he could give it back to the person.”
Yuna didn’t believe him. Not one bit.
“It has a red insignia on it..” She looks away from him. “Go give it to her..”
“Look I didn’t want you to feel-“
“It’s fine.. it’s hers. You have the right to give it back to her.. don’t tell me she tried blackmailing you!”
Taehyung shook his head. “You have it all wrong! It’s just a letter she dropped-“
“I’ll talk to you later,” Yuna hisses, grabbing Byeol by his hand. She then turns away and starts making her way towards the village. Taehyung lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes before going back inside. The palace was still as big as before with only a few changes. Though it took awhile for him to find her room, he stood outside of her door with the letter in his hand. A feeling of guilt and uneasiness grew in his heart and mind. The letter that was supposed to be kept a secret until her death, was out. Instead of knocking on her door, Taehyung barged right in. There was (Y/n), blindfolded, laying down on her bed. Taehyung walked over her belongings and handed her the open letter.
“You dropped your letter.”
“Why do you have it..”
“You can’t see..”
“I said leave.”
“Why did you do this to yourself?!”
“WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?!”
(Y/n) sat up. Her lips were trembling. The tears from beneath her blindfold was showing through the cloth. Taehyung couldn’t bare to look at her. The more he did, the more the painful memories came back.
“I loved you too much..”
“Lies.”
“That’s why I couldn’t marry you..”
“I meant nothing to you.”
“You did mean something to me.”
“What did I mean to you then?!”
“Love..”
“Lies.”
“Hurt.”
“Stop.”
“Weak.”
“Get out!”
His arms wrapped around her as he pulls her into his chest. “Let me go,” She weakly pushes him away but he stayed. “Get out..” she cries. Taehyung caressed her hair, down to her face.
“You made me feel all three things. I loved you so much, too much to the point where it began to hurt. I couldn’t focus on anything else but you. You were my source of weakness, you made me too weak that on the battlefield I couldn’t focus and almost killed one of my own soldiers. Because of my love for you, it caused my father and I to have a rift. I began to hurt. I began to pain. You were the cause of this. I had to put it to a stop. I had to put us to a stop..”
“Enough..”
(Y/n) didn’t want to push him away. In fact, she wanted to stay like this with him forever. But the past was the past, and it was time to move on.
“Get out..”
“(Y/n)-“
“I am no longer your lover. We never happened. I am now, your sister in law.”
“Please listen to me!”
“If this happens again, I will tell Yuna.”
And she let him go. Facing the other direction, her blinded action gave him the word. Taehyung slowly nodded and suddenly bows.
“This never happened.” His voice began to tremble just from saying the three words. “I’ll be on my way now.”
“Just go..”
And so he did.
<end>
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chokememrstark · 5 years
Text
Birthday Surprise // Assistant Verse Thorki
Words: 3,6k
Summary: Thor is confused when he overhears a phone call Loki makes and even more so when he later transfers a call from his bosses mother. After a bit of snooping around, he finds out that it’s actually Loki’s birthday and feels awful for not knowing and for making such an important day bad for his boss. He decides to do something to lift Loki’s mood, which doesn’t go quite as planned.
Warnings: bottom!thor, sub!thor, top!loki, dom!loki, blowjobs, smut, pwp (though actually it has plot this time!), drinking, aging (i guess?)
Notes: This was such a fun thing to write! It’s set in @thequeenoffish ‘s Assistant Verse, which seriously gives me so many thoughts and ideas that I had to write this scene. If you’re in need for some sub!bimbo Thor you have to read this, it’s absolutely beautiful!!
When Thor walks up to Loki’s office he can already see that his boss is on the phone, but he needs to pick up those papers for the new product line the marketing manager asked him to get, so he makes sure to be extra quiet to not disturb him. Loki barely acknowledged Thor’s presence, just nods at the pile of paper on the table, and continues to speak.
“No, Hela, I told you to not call me today, didn’t I? I don’t care about these things, I never did. What? Yes, thank you for reminding me I’m wasting my life. Of course I know. Do me a favor and skip the call next year, okay? Sure, you too.”
Thor doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s inevitable while he sorts through the papers to find what he needs. When he looks up Loki is massaging his temples, eyes closed and visibly annoyed. He knows better than to ask dumb questions, so he just leaves with what he came to get and doesn’t give into his curiosity.
Two hours later though, it’s sparked once more when he gets an unusual call on Loki’s line. He puts the woman on hold, pressing the button on his desk to speak to Loki.
“What now?” Loki groans frustrated and Thor frowns. “I’m busy.”
“Sir, I have a call for you on hold, from your mother?” Thor feels kind of awkward saying this because he knows literally nothing about his bosses family or private life, even more so when the first reaction he gets is another groan. “Do you want to speak to her or should I tell her you are in a meeting?”
“No, don’t do that,” Loki sighs after a few moments. “Put her through. God, this day just gets worse and worse.”
Thor does as he’s told, but he doesn’t know how to feel about it. After merely two minutes Loki rings for Thor to come to his office, which he does immediately of course. Loki sits at his desk just like before, fingers on his temples and even more annoyed than the last time.
“I don’t want any more calls today, Thor,” he says as soon as the door opens and looks up. “Tell them I’m in a meeting, tell them I’m dead, I don’t care. Unless it’s someone from the top management, I don’t want to talk to them.”
“O-of course, sir,” Thor mumbles surprised, but nods anyway. This is rare, Loki never rejects calls like this and he doesn’t remember seeing him so frustrated before either. “I can do that.”
“Good, now get out of here, I’m getting a headache and need silence.”
Thor makes sure Loki is not disturbed by any calls for the next few hours, slightly worrying about the whole situation. It gets even worse when Loki exits his office around four in the afternoon, announcing that he would leave for the rest of the day. Thor jumps up and asks if he wants him to do something, but Loki just waves his hand, saying: “Go home or wherever, I don’t need you anymore today.” He leaves without even so much as a goodbye, which is unusual even at his worst days.
Despite being told to leave, Thor stays for half an hour more. He feels kind of bad for following his nosiness by logging into the company’s personal files, but he needs to know if his assumption about Loki’s mood is right or not. Eventually, he finds the answer he expected, and it all starts making much more sense. It’s Loki’s birthday, his 30th to be precise, and apparently, it doesn’t go at all as he wanted it to go. Thor feels bad when he closes the files again and asks himself if he should do something about it.
Birthdays aren’t something everyone celebrates of course, but he does think this is a rather special one and he doesn’t like that Loki seems to have a miserable day. When he packs his things and makes his way out of the office, he wonders if Loki expected him to know and do something special, which is a thought that sends a cold shiver down his spine.
“Shit.”
He’s Loki’s secretary, he is supposed to know such things! How could he be so careless and not even think about this before? No, this is bad. Thor decides he needs to fix this mistake, even if it will end with Loki yelling at him for being so dumb to forget it in the first place. So, instead of going home, Thor calls a taxi to run some errands in order to make up for his lack of competence.
It’s already starting to get dark when the taxi pulls up in front of Loki’s place and when Thor gets out, he’s immediately greeted with ice cold rain right in his face. He quickly pays the driver and picks his stuff up from the back seat, before hurrying to the door. Ringing the doorbell turns out to be quite difficult, so eventually, Thor has to do it with his nose because his hands are full and he doesn’t want to put anything down into the mud.
Loki groans when the doorbell rings and actually flinches for a moment. Seriously, a visitor? Out of all days, this is surely the worst one to pick. Not only did both his sister and his mother had to call and remind him of his birthday, of course with Hela mocking him and calling him ‘middle-aged’ and ‘slowly running out of time’, he also had to come home just to find a damn gray hair on his head. He didn’t plan to get drunk originally, but this was the last straw. He’s down to his second bottle of wine within one hour and the effect finally starts showing when the doorbell disturbs his peace.
With a low growl, Loki puts down the half-empty bottle and stalks over to the door, ripping it open without even trying to hide his annoyance when he barks: “What?”
Thor didn’t expect such a harsh welcoming and is visibly startled, actually taking a step back. The two look at each other for a few seconds - Loki’s face slowly losing most of his anger and Thor drenched and still being rained on, awkwardly smiling and very uncomfortable.
“Thor?” Loki asks, blinking confused as he lets go of the door handle. “What the hell are you doing here? Did I forget to pay you or what?”
“I… well…” Thor stumbles over his own words, suddenly feeling really dumb for coming here. Loki clearly wants to be left alone, no wonder he’s mad. “I just… thought…”
“For God’s sake, Thor, speak!” Loki snaps and Thor flinches at the harsh tone of his voice.
“I… I got you some cake and wine,” Thor mumbles ashamed, stepping from one foot to the other. “For your birthday, I mean. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just leave again, but you can still have them if you want to.” He holds out the box and bottle in his hands, avoiding any and all eye contact.
Loki is silent for a full minute, completely baffled by Thor’s explanation. He has no idea why Thor knows about his birthday or why on earth he would think this was a good idea, but he can’t deny that he’s kind of flattered.
Thor eventually steps back, lowering his head because Loki doesn’t react. Not that he blames him, he understands, he just hoped that he might appreciate the gifts at least. He’s about to leave, looking at his feet when Loki suddenly speaks and he stops in his tracks.
“Wait, I can’t let you leave like that. You’ll get ill.”
Thor looks up confused. He totally forgot that he’s soaked from head to toes, but with the way Loki looks at him, he remembers again.
“Come inside, you’re gonna freeze to death out here,” Loki says and takes the cake out of Thor’s hands finally. He turns around, jerking his head to signal Thor to come, and after a moment of contemplating, Thor follows him.
Thor fears he might leave dirty footprints on Loki’s floor and quickly gets out of his shoes before following Loki into the living room. He immediately notices the bottles on the table, no glasses, and wonders if those are all from today, but the way Loki signals him to sit down kind of speaks for itself.
“Take your jacket off though, it’s leather, but it’s sensitive.” Loki turns and leaves the room without anything else, but Thor does as he’s told because the last thing he wants is to ruin Loki’s chair. After sitting down he doesn’t really know what else to do though, so he listens to Loki work in the kitchen and looks around a bit. He has been here before, but never actually inside, only picked up a few things every now and then.
Loki’s apartment is quite big and the interior is simple and clean, but it has something comfy to it at the same time. Thor likes Loki’s taste, which mostly consists of black and white with several gold accents. It suits him somehow, he doesn’t really know why. He’s actually so fascinated by what he sees that he only notices Loki returned when he hears a noise behind him. He turns around and realizes Loki brought plates and forks from the kitchen, as well as two glasses, and for some reason, he blushes slightly at this and shifts in his seat.
“If you come here unannounced, I’m sure you don’t mind staying for some cake and wine, right?” Loki asks and Thor quickly shakes his head.
“O-of course not,” he mumbles.
Loki smirks and opens the wine Thor brought, filling both glasses with it. Thor isn’t used to Loki doing such things - not that they ever had wine together, but usually he is the one who prepares things for his boss, not the other way around - and it makes him slightly nervous when he even cuts the cake and hands him a place with his piece.
As awkward as it is, the cake tastes very good, just like the wine, and while they eat, Thor slowly begins to relax a little again. Loki is obviously tipsy and empties his wine faster than Loki can process before getting a second, but he doesn’t seem to be as annoyed as when Thor arrived anymore. By the time the cake is gone, Loki is slumping on the couch, eyes slightly hooded and lingering on Thor in a way the other can’t quite identify. He tries to ignore it for some time, but it’s impossible to not be affected by it. Not in an uncomfortable way though, which is what confuses him.
Suddenly, Loki smirks and rolls his head to the side. There is something predatory in the way he looks at Thor and it makes the blond’s loins flare up.
“Did you really just come here to bring me cake and wine?” Loki asks, curious and slightly suspicious.
“You looked really angry when you left work, so I thought it might cheer you up a bit,” Thor explains his behavior, which surely comes off strange now that he thinks about it. “That’s all I wanted, really.”
“That’s too bad, really.” Loki shifts to sit more comfortably, spreading his legs a little while watching the other’s face closely. Thor gulps inaudibly, trying to keep his eyes directed at Loki’s face instead of allowing them to wander. “I hoped you had a different reason for your late visit.”
“A… a different one?” Thor mumbles, clearing his throat that suddenly feels dry and tight. “I… I don’t know what other reason I should have. I just… think birthdays should be nice, not sad.”
“They should be, yes,” Loki says slowly, arching his back with a low grunt. “And I know something that would make this birthday a lot better than it started out.”
Thor knows where this is going and he can barely hide the fact that he wants Loki to continue. Something inside of him woke up when Loki looked at him like that as if he is nothing but his prey. He shouldn’t be aroused by this thought, but he is, there’s no arguing about it. When Loki suddenly squints his eyes at him, Thor knows he needs whatever is coming next. It doesn’t matter what it is, but he needs it badly.
At first, Loki just signals Thor to come closer by crooking one of his fingers. Confused, but still curious, Thor follows the gesture until he stands between Loki’s legs. For a moment, his boss simply looks at him like this - tongue slowly licking over his bottom lip and his eyes dark and dangerous. Then, he speaks a single word with a dark, husky voice that breaks all of Thor’s defenses immediately.
“Kneel.”
By God, this one word alone creates a firework in Thor’s head and stomach that makes him obey embarrassingly fast. It almost hurts when he hits the floor, but Thor doesn’t care, not even a bit. He looks up at Loki, cheeks flushing and eyes full of need, and he doesn’t have any words to explain how incredible he feels in this moment. The tightness in his pants that came so suddenly only adds to his internal wildfire that now burns brightly.
“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” Loki asks, bringing a hand up and burying it deep in Thor’s blond locks. Thor can’t hold back a quiet moan at this and leans into his touch, hardly able to keep his eyes open. “Tell me, Thor, how badly did you want to touch me when I had you on your knees the last time?”
“Badly,” Thor gasps, gulping down hard when his eyes brush over the bulge in Loki’s pants. “So badly it hurt.”
Loki tucks on his hair, forcing Thor to look back into his eyes. They are hungry in a way that makes Thor’s head spin. “Show me,” he orders, coaxing another moan from Thor. “Now.”
Thor’s hands are shaking when he brings them up, so much he can barely open Loki’s pants when he tries. He can feel how hard he is under the fabric and he never wanted anything more than he wants this. It takes him almost a minute before he’s able to free Loki’s cock, a sight that makes him gasp and almost drool immediately. He licks his lips when he wraps one of his hands around it, heart stammering in his chest as if he just ran a marathon.
It feels like time has slowed down when Thor closes his eyes and leans forward, licking the drop of precum off the tip of Loki’s cock like the sweetest treat in existence. He can’t help but hum at just how perfect it tastes and when he closes his lips around him, Loki lets out a loud, utterly lustful moan. Thor’s head feels beautifully light, leaving nothing but the feeling of Loki’s perfect cock in his mouth, of his tongue tasting what he longed for for so long and of the intense heat that spreads throughout his whole body.
There is nothing about this that isn’t absolutely sinful and desperate, but Thor doesn’t care. He loves trailing his tongue along the shaft of Loki’s cock, feeling it twitch under his touch and to take him in deeper slowly, just a bit more every time he bobs his head. Not even when he begins to gag Thor stops, no matter than breathing becomes difficult like this. He wants all of him, wants to choke on Loki’s cock until he passes out if he can. It’s everything he imagined it would be and so much more, he just can’t get enough.
Loki does nothing to stop Thor, he is letting him do as he pleases, moaning deeply at his eager. When Thor finally takes him in completely, he lets out a quiet ‘Fuck’ that makes the blond shudder and suck him off hard, almost sending him over the edge immediately. He doesn’t want it to end already, but damn, Thor is incredible with his mouth, he’s making it difficult for Loki to keep it together.
Thor is absolutely lost in sucking Loki off. He gives everything he has, swallows him down to the point tears build up in his eyes before letting go just long enough to take a breath before going down on him again. There is something so intense about this, about the sounds he coaxes from Loki and about the thrill of pushing himself to his limits. He doesn’t even realize when he starts rutting against the floor, searching for friction to relief his painfully hard erection somehow.
Suddenly, Loki’s hand is back on Thor, trying to push him away. Thor can feel Loki’s cock twitch harder and his hips buck, but he doesn’t want to be stopped. He digs his fingers into Loki’s thighs, hollowing his cheeks as he takes him in all the way again, humming in delight when Loki gasps and groans beneath him. There is nothing he doesn’t want and he is determined to go all the way, sucking Loki off as skillfully and hard as he possibly can.
“Fuck, Thor!” Loki moans, nails digging deep into Thor’s shoulder when he finally loses it and cums deep down the blond’s throat. Thor almost cums on the spot himself, the overwhelming salty taste all that exists anymore and causing his loins to tense up so perfectly. He swallows down every last drop, unable to stop milking Loki dry even when tears roll down his cheeks and he can see black dots bloom before his eyes. Only when he is forced to get air he pulls back, head falling against Loki’s thigh and breath hitching and shallow.
Several minutes pass like this, with Thor trying to catch his breath and yet being unable to do it. He lets out a displeased grunt when Loki suddenly moves, followed by a clicking noise and, shortly after, Loki exhaling slowly and leaning back. Thor is still so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t dare to touch himself and in a way, it’s a sweet torture because none of his arousal has disappeared. Eventually, he can bring himself to look up, eyes glossy and lips slightly parted, with nothing but bliss on his face.
Loki’s arms are spread over the back of the couch, his hands holding a glass of wine in one and a gleaming cigarette in the other. He just looks at Thor for a moment before taking a drag. Thor’s eyes are fixated on Loki’s lips, on the way his jaw moves as he inhales, of his throat muscles tensing and relaxing again and even though he is completely against smoking, it’s the hottest thing he has ever seen.
“Get up,” Loki says after blowing out the smoke. He takes a sip from his glass when Thor follows his command, eyes not once leaving his. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Loki puts the cigarette out by dropping it into the glass and leans forward to out it onto the table. As he does, his face comes so close to Thor’s crotch that his cheek is brushing over his hard on and Thor lets out a cry of agony. He is desperate for release and Loki knows that all too well.
“Sir, please, I…”
“Shh, come here,” Loki hushs Thor when he leans back, pulling him close by his wrist. “You did so well, Thor, you deserve a reward.”
Thor shudders when Loki pulls him down, making him straddle his lap. He can barely hold himself up on his own, his legs trembling too much to support him in any way, but Loki takes care of that by holding him in place. One of Loki’s hands rubs over the bulge in his pants carefully, building up pressure slow enough to be both painful and amazing, and Thor can’t help but drop his head against the other’s shoulder. He forgot how to speak, he forgot how to do anything but moan like a needy bitch.
“Cum, baby,” Loki purrs into Thor’s ear, so close that his lips brush over his skin. “Show me that pretty face of yours when you’re moaning.”
As if he had waited for approval, Thor’s orgasm begins to build up under nothing but Loki’s demanding touch, without more than the friction created by fabric rubbing against his cock. Thor moans; he moans embarrassingly loud while cumming in his pants harder than he ever came before. It feels like forever and it’s just so good, he could pass out if Loki wouldn’t hold him so tightly and breathe down his neck.
“Such a pretty little whore for me,” Loki purrs, coaxing a soft whine from Thor, who leans even more into his touch. There is nothing about Loki’s words that would hurt him, not at all. He wants to be his whore, he wants to be his pet, fuck, he wants to be everything Loki asks him to be. Until now it was nothing but a fantasy, but now Thor knows this is what he craves.
“Only yours…” Thor whispers, almost too quiet for Loki to hear him. He does though and brushes a hand through the blond’s hair gently.
“That’s right, you are,” he murmurs, brushing his cheek against Thor’s slowly. “You’re mine.”
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beguilewritesstuff · 5 years
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Whumptober 30, 31: Caregiver Showdown
I misread the last two prompts for Whumptober as one prompt, so instead of two separate entries - one for Caregiver and one for Showdown - I wrote a Caregiver Showdown. 
This ficlet also fills earlier prompts for broken ribs and severe illness. 
Fandom: Daredevil (TV)  Characters: Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, Karen Page, Sister Maggie, Frank Castle Timeline: Post-season 3 Additional Tags: broken ribs, pneumonia, fever, Matt is stubborn and does not know how to deal with basic human kindness
The broken ribs give rise to pneumonia in what everyone agrees is through no fault of Matt’s own. He’s broken his ribs so many times that aftercare is second nature: he breathes normally, coughs regularly; his steady diet of Aspirin is actually commendable because he doesn’t suppress any inclinations to clear his lungs. He stays off the streets, sleeps, eats well.
           It’s a shock, then, when Matt stops dead in his track and takes hold of the door frame of his new office, his shoulders hunched and head hung low, breath coming in short, wet bursts. His light coughs quickly turn into hacks; he tries to stop, but the hits keep coming, his diaphragm thrusting so hard against his packed lungs he ends up at the corner of his desk nearly doubled over. A trail of lime-green slime gleams on the back of his hand.
           He tries the usual litany of thing: I’m fine, it’s nothing, I’ll go to the clinic after work, but Foggy and Karen won’t hear any of it. Karen’s already grabbing her jacket; Foggy’s calling their appointments this afternoon, letting people know they will only be meeting with Nelson. At that point, Matt clams up, plants himself at his desk, and resumes working, refusing to move. Karen stands in his office doorway in her jacket for a full three minutes before she says, “We’ll go after work,” and storms back to her own office.
           End of day comes. Karen pops into Foggy’s office and hasn’t even greeted him when they both hear the office door close. Matt’s footsteps disappear down the hallway, vanishing when they reach the stairwell.
           “God damn it, Matt,” Karen says. She catches Foggy’s sigh, the look on his face. “What?”
           “You said, ‘we.’” Foggy rubs his eyes, drops his head into his hand. “’We’ll go after work.’”            “And?”
           “You don’t say ‘we,’ Karen. You don’t even say that he’s going to the clinic. You let him think that you buy his crap about everything being fine, and then you ambush him on his way out the door.”
           “No, no, we did that before. Let him Devil his way through everything, and he ended up living in a church basement trying to get himself killed.”              “Oh, and this is better? He’s got pneumonia, Karen, and he just stormed out into the cold. He’s probably not going to the clinic, especially with you trying to escort him there.”
           “What are we supposed to do? What we did before didn’t work.”
           “What you’re trying now didn’t either.”
           “So we stop trying?”
           Foggy groans. “Nope, that’s not what I said.” He grabs his jacket. “You’re one hell of an investigator, Karen Page, but arguments like that are why you’re not a lawyer.”              “So what are you going to do?” Karen demands.
           “I’m going to ambush Matt at his apartment and make sure he goes to the clinic,” Foggy says. “Because that’s what a good friend does.”              Karen laughs lightly, but she lets him go before grabbing her own coat. She gets on her phone and starts burning through her contacts, phoning in favours, as she runs errands through Hell’s Kitchen.
           Matt arrives at his building and finally realizes that it’s not a trick of his muffled hearing making his footsteps echo; he’s being followed.
           “What do you want, Foggy?” he asks from the top of his stoop, refusing to come down a step in his friend’s direction lest he be seen conceding.
           “Just in the neighbourhood, buddy,” Foggy lies. Badly.
           Matt unlocks his front door and steps inside. “I’m fine.” He prays for the strength to swing the door shut before Foggy can get there, but damn it, Foggy’s got a hand on the door and is holding it open, and the blood rushes into Matt’s head so fast it blots out his senses. He’s lost in his own lobby.
           “…have been quiet.”
           Matt shakes his head to clear out his ears. They’re muffled, scratchy; Foggy sounds a little like a scratched record. “What?”
           “I said the clinic must have been quiet for you to make it home so fast.”
           “I didn’t go,” Matt growls. He stalks into his building. “Congratulations - you caught me.”
           Foggy trails after him. “You want to go now? I can land us a cab, and I’ve still got some strings to pull over at –“            “Not now.” 
           “Yes, now,” Foggy says, grabbing Matt before he can climb any more of his narrow staircase. “You’re coughing up shit from a sci-fi movie.”
           “I know,” Matt says, “I was there. I tasted it. I can still taste it.”
           “So why are you putting this off? I’m telling you I can get us in fast. Grab you a script for antibiotics and be right back here.”              Matt shakes his head, his lips pursing. “You want to say something!” Foggy declares, pointing at him. “See! You’re not the only one who can read tells, Murdock!”              “I need a minute,” Matt admits.
           “A minute for your lung jelly to respawn?”
           “No, a minute from everyone. I was listening all afternoon, Foggy. Your heartbeat, Karen’s. Your respiration. You were both just waiting for me to leave my office, to lecture me or drag me to the clinic.”              “We’re worried about you.”  
           “I’m fine.” Matt marches up the rest of the stairs to his apartment, resolving that statement with every step. He is fine. “I’m going to take some Aspirin, and I’ll go to the clinic when I damn well feel like it.”              Foggy stays hot on his heels. “You’re never going to feel like it.”
           Matt reaches his apartment door. He puts the key in the lock and draws a steadying breath. Crap gets knocked loose in his lungs; he suppresses the urge to cough. “I need you to leave this alone,” he tells Foggy. He hopes his threat of locking Foggy out is sufficiently implied.
           It is: “Fine. Okay. I won’t say another word about the clinic or pneumonia or anything.”
           But Foggy’s heartbeat has a whole lot to say about all of those things.
           The Aspirin does nothing, not with Foggy there. Matt retreats to bed; he lies with his back to the living room in what he considers to be an obvious dismissal. Still, Foggy stays, his heartbeat thumping away as he works at the dining table, ratcheting up Matt’s headache to migraine proportions. Occasionally, Foggy tries to sneak over to the bedroom, and Matt has to say, “I’m fine,” to get him to back off.
           Matt’s on the verge of resigning himself to a supervised, practically hand-held trip to the after-hours clinic for a sputum test and antibiotics when there’s a knock on the door. Karen lets herself in with a quiet but cheerful greeting. She’s carrying food – soup and sandwiches from that deli they like – and a smaller bag that crinkles as she walks.
           She whispers to Foggy: “Is he asleep?” The timbre of her voice is grating. Matt’s ears are pounding with his heart and Foggy’s heart and her heart. He sits up in bed, ignoring the wave of dizziness that crashes over him, and he forces himself to stand. “You here to check on me, too?” he asks, hands fumbling at the door frame. Both Karen and Foggy notice, and Matt’s reaction is torn between good, I’m glad you notice, because this is your fault and God damn it, I’m not a child. He’s fumbled for things before. He’s had broken ribs before. He’s had pneumonia before. He’s survived worse than this before. Why are they here?
           “I’m not here to check on you,” Foggy says. “I agreed that wasn’t what I was going to be doing.”
           “I brought dinner,” Karen says.
           “Thank you,” Matt replies.
           She clutches the paper bag in her hand, allowing Matt to locate it through his muzzy senses. She tosses it to him; he catches. “Appetizer?”
           “Antibiotics.” Karen shrugs and strides back to the counter to start unwrapping the food. “I did a piece about the new clinic on Forty-Second when it opened. The doctor there wrote me a script. She said she’ll run your sputum test for you, too, whenever you want.”              Matt holds the bottle dumbly in his hands, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For them to trick him into an Uber or have called this doctor to his apartment on a house call. Karen continues unpacking the food. Foggy makes some light-hearted comment about how great it is to have favours to cash.
           “Thank you,” Matt says.
           “You’re welcome,” Karen replies.
           Her heart rate picks up a little. Warm, happy: a little victory dance around the disappointed tremor of Foggy’s pulse.
           Matt nods. There it is: the other shoe. He pops one of the capsules dry and walks slowly towards the battle that’s been declared in the kitchen.
           At first, it’s fine. Aside for the chatter of heartbeats, it’s another evening for the three of them: dinner, conversation. Matt’s headache starts to subside. The shaky, febrile feeling he nursed earlier seems to dissipate, too. Karen and Foggy don’t hover, they don’t bother.
           Until the coughing comes back.
           Foggy tries to hand him a rag. Karen tries to get him to the sink.
           Matt bucks them both off and staggers to the washroom.
           He slams the door behind him and makes it to the sink just in time to retch a wad of foul-tasting slime into the basin. He grips the counter, blood boiling under his skin, perspiration dripping out of his pores; headache back, fever rising, hands shaking, legs limpening. “You okay?” Karen and Foggy asks from the living room, and Matt raises a hand in their direction, needing them to stop. He sinks to his haunches, head between his knees, the deluge of crap in his chest rising back into his throat. Another cough coming on, and him, powerless to stop it, powerless to stop Foggy and Karen from hearing and doing things about it.
           Matt breathes until he no longer feels the urge to cough. He breathes until he can stand. He splashes some water on his face to hide the tear streaks, the chill shocking against his overheating skin. He walks casually back into the living room, past Karen and Foggy – who are both very much hovering now – and straight into the bedroom.
           “I’m gonna lie down,” Matt says, pulling at the door.
           Karen stops him. “Maybe you should –“
           He yanks the door out of her hand. “Get some rest? Yeah, I’m about to.”
           “- go to the hospital.”              “Good night,” Matt says dismissively. He shuts the door.
           The cough rips itself out of his lungs. Karen reaches for the bedroom door; Foggy stops her. Their heartbeats crash against the drywall. Matt clutches his ears, groaning. His knees shake underneath him; his head spins. This wave of red washes through the world on fire, and it’s a bad sign, one that isn’t at all helped by Foggy reassuring him that they’re right outside if he needs anything. “We can’t charge in there,” Foggy hisses at Karen, dragging her back into the living room. She hisses back at him that yes, they can, and they should.
           “I can hear you,” Matt says, his voice choked on phlegm.
           “Matt, stop being stubborn –“              “I said good night, Karen. I said…” Matt loses his voice to a wheeze. He grips the wall and guides himself back to standing. He’s dizzy. The tips of his fingers are tingling and his lips have gone numb like he’s about to pass out.  
           He grabs a coat from the closet. Slips on his ragged pair of gym shoes. A pair of sunglasses are on his nightstand. He doesn’t have his scarf, hat, or mitts, but he is not going out to the living room and the whisper-fest about how best to deal with him. Besides, he’s going to need his hands free and his senses clear for what he’s about to do.
           Matt slides open the window. He slips out, bracing himself against the wall. Winter nips at his exposed skin, so cold it’s hot against his fevered skin. The blaze inside him makes the wall hard to read, but Matt manages to slink down, landing on the window of the floor below.
           He lands on the pavement roughly, chest burning and head aching. A cough building inside him, clawing at his throat, but he has to move. Matt buries his hands in his pockets and listens, getting his bearings. No ruckus from inside his building, so Foggy and Karen must not know he’s gone. Pedestrians help paint a portrait of the sidewalk that he can navigate without his cane. Matt puts one foot in front of the other, aiming himself in the direction of Clinton Church.
           The door to the basement is easy to pick. Matt trundles down the steps. He drops onto the last one, sitting, unable to catch his breath. That cough finally rips its way out, mucous spattering onto the pavement smelling faintly of blood and infection and his insides.
           He rubs at his chest, his face, his hair. Fever’s up. His blood runs hot, melting his bones and muscles into jelly. Sending his thoughts into spirals and his perception into a ever-receding circle that begins and ends with his skull. The racks are the only reason he doesn’t fall on his face when he rises. They’re also the only thing guiding him to the back corner where the cot still resides, made up with fresh linens, awaiting his return.
           Matt drops onto the bed and curls up, coughing some more. Being in a ball helps his diaphragm clear the crap out of his lungs, easing some of the pressure on his still-mending ribs.
           The emptiness of the church swirls around him. Echoes in vacant corners. The hallowed hum of rock and timbers gentle and cushioning around his aching body, sending him off to sleep.
           Maggie shakes him, says his name, but Matt’s still under the weather. Filled with storm clouds and warm fronts, damp humidity clinging to his bones. He rises as if in slow motion. Takes forever to realize that Maggie is touching him, that she’s asking him if he can hear her. Matt can’t find the words to answer. He tries to take her by the hand but he can’t track her movements. He’s oscillating between hot and cold; breath coming in short bursts or long drags. Senses clear and then submerged.
           “Matthew.”
           Maggie’s hand is on his chin, and every one of Matt’s senses hone on her in glaring, brilliant detail. She tells him she’s going to take his temperature, and Matt holds very still when the thermometer stabs under his tongue.
           The beeping hurts his ears. Maggie is quick to take it from him. Her sigh sounds like Karen wanting him to go to the hospital. He tells her as much. “Can’t imagine why your friend things you should got to the hospital,” she shakes the thermometer and sets it aside, “when your temperature is pushing 104.”
           “They didn’t take my temperature.” Matt folds his hands between his thighs and shivers, his teeth chattering. “That’s about all they didn’t do. Would’ve tucked me into bed if I hadn’t stopped them.”
           She drapes a blanket over his shoulders. “Thank you,” Matt says. He speaks to her retreating form as she goes to the sink. “I don’t know why they’re doing this.”              The tap runs. Stops. Pills rattle in the bottle. Maggie brings him back a glass. “Taking care of you?”
           “Smothering me.” He takes the glass and the pills, more Aspirin, and finishes both in one smooth movement.
           Maggie runs a hand over his head, patting him on the shoulder. “Sounds like they’re worried about you.”              “You sound like them.”
           She retreats from him, and all of sudden, the blanket on his shoulders is oppressively heavy. Matt tugs it off. Stands, shaking.
           “Sit down, Matthew.”              That tone: it should be aloof, but Matt hears the pulse behind it, and he can’t take that severity as anything other than parental. Authoritative. As oppressive as the God damn blanket.
           “Matthew –“
           “I’m not a child,” he says.
           “I’m aware of that.”
           “Then why are you doing this? You, Foggy, and Karen.”              “Making sure you don’t kill yourself?”              “It’s pneumonia. I’m on antibiotics.”              “For one night.”            Matt glowers at her, too angry to say anything. Too hot and too tired to keep the expression up for long. “Which one of them called you?”
           “Does it matter?”              He scoffs. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” He staggers away from the alcove, breezing past her. “Should have been more careful, Sister.”
           “About what?” Maggie asks, trailing after him.
           “Going soft. I didn’t think it was possible, but –“
           Maggie trails after him. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be even more self-destructive.”              “I’m not –“ Matt speaks so hard, he knocks something else loose in his chest. He walks through the itch in the back of his throat, straight towards the stairs.
           She trails after him: “Accepting help is not a sign of weakness, Matthew.”
           “I don’t need help!”
           “Now you’re acting like a child!”
           She says more, unleashing that acerbic wit of hers on him, cutting him down, reminding him that this is ridiculous. But Matt doesn’t listen to her. He escapes into the winter nighttime.
           His overheated brain plays through the next steps: Maggie calls Karen; they take to the streets. They find him sitting here, drag him to the hospital or home and stay with him, coddling him, catching his sputum on rags and forcing medication into his mouth. And it’s like the early days after Midland Circle all over again. He’s helpless, broken. A burden. A body in a bed.
           Matt huddles under his jacket, shivering. His throat is raw and lungs are packed, and the chill stabs into his skin. With them looking out for him, he supposed he could go home. Slip back into his warm apartment and sleep for the next eighteen hours, waking occasionally to force crap out of his lungs and make sure he’s still alone.
          The sound of boot buckles rouses Matt from his thoughts. He knows those footfalls. If he could smell, there’d be the scent of stale coffee and gun powder.  
           Matt gets up, the Devil taking over, rallying the last of his strength. He follows the footsteps down the street, into an alley, to a basement apartment where the smell of gun metal and bullets is strong enough to penetrate his congestion.
           He rounds the building and finds a window he can slip through.
           A dog barks and rushes him. Matt tumbles, hits a wall. He’s rising when Frank grabs him by the collar of his jacket.
           The Devil takes over. It’s like old times. Matt lands the first blow, but Frank comes back at him harder, and it takes all his focus to find where the next attack is going to come. He tries kicking Frank’s legs out from under him, but Frank punches him in the chest, and the coughing comes back. Matt pitches forward so violently he lands on his knees, noses brushing against the floor as a glob of mucous comes out his mouth to land on the floor.
           He keeps coughing, keeps spewing. Heat drains off him in rivers, and Matt sinks the rest of the way, his forehead coming to rest on the tile.
           “Jesus, Red,” Frank says.
           Matt raises a fist. “We’re not finished!” He hacks, spitting the last of his lung-garbage onto the floor. He pushes himself back onto his knees, and then pitches forward again, coughing some more.
           Frank speaks over his hacking. “We’re finishing this?”
           “YES!” Matt shouts. He gets back on his feet, shaking so badly that the whole house might come down on top of him. “We’re finishing this!”
           Frank walks away from him.
           Matt stands there dumbly, unable to orient himself for a pursuit. The dog comes over, barks, sniffs at Matt’s hands, his legs. Matt waits for the launch of a canine heartbeat before a bite but nothing comes. The dog licks at his fingers, jumps up and puts its paws on Matt’s chest.
           “Max! Get down!” Frank says.
           The dog – Max – licks Matt’s cheek before he gets down. He trots a short distance in Frank’s direction, but then, noticing Matt isn’t following, grabs Matt by the sleeve of his jacket and pulls him along.
           Matt almost lands on the floor again. He leans against the doorway and stays there, where it’s safer, where he won’t drop in front of Frank.
           “What are you doing here, Frank?” Matt asks.
           “You broke into my place,” Frank replies.              “Why do you have a place?”              “Why wouldn’t I have a place?”
           The conversation makes Matt dizzier. He puts his weight onto the door frame, reeling. Frank looming somewhere in the darkness, his heartbeat loud enough to show that there are thin walls in this place, but not where they are.
           Max comes back and tugs on his cuff some more. Matt pulls his hands back, waving the dog along.
           “Max,” Frank orders.
           The dog’s collar jangles when he looks from Matt to Frank back to Matt. He gives a small whine and goes back to yanking Matt by the sleeve.
           “Looks like you both have the same charming personality,” Matt says.
           Frank slams the drawer he’s been digging around in. Then, casually: “You sick, Red?”  
           “I’m fine.”
           “Looks like you’ve come down with something.”
           “I’m fine.” And then, to prove it, Matt yanks his coat from Max’s eager mouth and staggers into the thoroughly unknowable torpor of Frank’s apartment. “I’m leaving. See you round, Frank.”
           He came in from the opposite side of the front door, so it he walks straight ahead -  
           Frank coughs. Gesturing, somehow, or maybe that’s Matt’s spinning head playing tricks on him again. “Door’s that way.”
           Matt pretends that he has an idea of what Frank’s talking about. He twists on the spot, leg brushing against a threadbare couch. He takes a step and ends up walking into Max, who appears as if from nowhere. “Would you call off your damn dog?”              “What do you think I’ve been doing? Must like you or something.” Frank scoffs. “Terrible taste.”
           Matt’s attempts to dignify that with a comeback land him back in a coughing fit. He pitches forward, shoulder coming to rest on the couch. Just as well, since Matt doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up.
           Max comes and joins him, nuzzling him as the coughing fit ends. Matt pats him but the dog breath spins his stomach and his perception. He rolls back, out of the way, and ends up sitting on the couch, head in his hands.
           Frank’s heart is an exercise in disappointment. Makes two of them, since Matt’s heart, when it finally calms down, couldn’t be less enthused with his current circumstances. He goes to stand but it doesn’t work. None of it works. Not his legs, not his arms, not his torso. His neck goes slack. He falls into the couch back, limp and boneless from the fever that’s skyrocketing.
           Frank grabs him, shakes him. Matt takes him by the wrists and they tussle like that, with Frank peppering him in hey-s, wake up-s, you with me-s. It’s verbal machine gun fire with Frank’s hands acting like explosives. One of his neck, another on his forehead, another on his wrist taking his pulse.
           “You’re burning up,” Frank says.
           “Oh, Jesus, not you too,” Matt says. “I’m leaving. Let me leave.”
           Frank grabs Max by the collar and takes a step back. “You want to leave? Go.”
           Matt’s face breaks. There’s another cough building inside him. He grabs the couch with sweat-slicked hands and pushes but he isn’t going anywhere. He’s stuck.
           Frank releases Max. The dog comes and sits next to Matt on the couch, his bulky pit bull head a cinderblock on Matt’s overheated leg. “You take anything tonight?” Frank asks, retreating. “Antibiotics?”
           “Yeah,” Matt says, the thought are we doing this getting lost immediately in the fever haze. He gives a small cough, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. “And Aspirin.” But who the hell knows how long ago that was?              Frank fumbles around in a kit nearby. He comes back and thrusts something into his hand. A pack of gel caps. Matt shakes his head, but Frank isn’t listening. He’s gone back to what is probably a kitchen and grabbed a mug, filled it with water.
           Matt sighs. Yes, they are, in fact, doing this. Spend all night trying to avoid people mothering him, and here goes the Punisher with cough medicine and water.
           He tries to refuse; Frank doesn’t let him. “You take that, you take fifteen minutes to get your shit together, and then you get the hell out.”
           God, he’s never been more grateful to be told to fuck off. Matt rips open the meds and pops them, downing the whole glass of water as he does. “Thanks, Frank.”
           “And don’t come back,” Frank adds, walking away. He disappears into the back room of the apartment, behind a closed door.
           Matt listens, tries to smell. He can’t get anything. The space is virtually empty except for the cloud of gun metal and ammo that seems oddly absent now that he’s inside. Maybe it was here and isn’t anymore? But that doesn’t make sense, since Frank’s here.
           Max sits up on the couch and starts licking at his face again. Matt resists at first, but he’s working on fumes. The fever’s burnt him up, turned him into smoke, and eventually he strokes Max’s head and back, gets the dog to lie down next to him, this comforting bulk of a stable heartbeat and fur.
           Max disappears off the couch, Frank reappears, and Matt tries to communicate that he gets it: his fifteen minutes are up. He’s leaving. He turns and tries to move, but his legs are coming apart at the joints. His arms flop uselessly. He grabs hold of the armrest and tries to pull himself to the side, at least, but there’s no use. He’s slipping, draining out of himself. Straight down his spinal chord, through his legs, into the floor, all to the tune of Frank’s heart beating like a drum, the anger audible right up until the moment that it isn’t. Right up until the moment it dissipates and is replaced with…something else. Irritation?
           Matt’s shoes come off. He tries to speak, and the itch in his throat pounces. He hacks and coughs and sputters, and Frank is there for the whole thing, saying nothing, his heartbeat looking on in resignation. And Matt wants to know why, but the word gets lost in a rasp. He lands on his side, melts into the couch, and hides his worthless mouth behind one of his hands.
           His sunglasses come off. He half-expects them to get crushed under Frank’s foot, to get punched in the face afterwards, but all Frank does is check is temperature one more time.
           Matt tries to duck away. He squirms, confused as to why he can’t run, why won’t his legs move. “It’s because you’re sick,” Frank says. “Quit squirming. Wormy little shit...” 
           The rest of Frank’s diatribe gets lost under the swell of blood rushing into his head. Matt rolls over toward the plush back of the couch, nose filling with the ghost of cigarette smoke as another coughing fit starts.
           He doesn’t stick around to know how it ends; he passes out instead, Frank Castle looming behind him.
           They’ve made several passes of the neighbourhood and are sitting in Foggy’s car sipping coffees, their argument still ringing on the air between them, when Karen gets the text message.
           “Unlisted,” she explains to Foggy, who is demanding to know if it’s Matt. Karen opens the message. A photo greets her: Matt lying on a shitty looking sofa, slack-limbed and sleeping, covered in a fraying quilt with a cold compress on his forehead; a blue-gray pit bull lies next to him and stares defensively into the camera, triple-dog daring anyone to come touch one hair on Matt’s precious head.
           “What is that? Where is that?” Foggy demands, seeing the photo.
           “It’s uh…” Karen isn’t sure how to explain. Her contact with Frank has been so limited. She only called him after they found Matt had disappeared from the apartment, when she needed some eyes on the street who could keep an eye out for Matt and the Devil. But her voicemail had been so long and rambling – so frustrated with Foggy, with Maggie, with Matt; with this stupid competition for Matt’s health – that she didn’t expect him to get back to her, let alone find actually find and subdue Matt.
           She rights herself and is finally about to answer Foggy’s question when another messages arrives. Five words. All Frank Castle needs to get under her skin:
           Guess this means I win.
           The stupid competition for Matt’s health. 
           Karen closes the text window.
           “Who is that, Karen?”
           One last text message arrives; Karen jumps from the chime like a bullet’s been fired, and really, one has. Staring up at her from her notifications bar is a single message containing nothing but a skull emoji.
           Foggy groans, rolling his eyes. “Is that…?”
           Karen sighs. “Yeah.”
           “God damn Frank Castle.”
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vaguelyrotten · 3 years
Text
Like a Lily in a Flood
Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary:  Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver
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Chapter Four
Isabelle’s ingredients turned out to be a handful of seeds, spices, and spirits that they hadn’t had in the storeroom at the manor. Alec knew that he could pick up a majority of the ingredients at the general store. The others he would have to ask around for...and hope he got lucky. He tied Flame to the hitching post out front and went inside.
A bell jingled gently as he pushed open the door. The store was owned by Lucian Greymark — the step-father of the girl that Jace was absolutely smitten with. Lucian had been in his father’s army until an injury had forced him to retire early. Luke had always been kind to Alec and his siblings and had always paid them more attention than Robert had when the kids had visited or accompanied their father on routine patrols where they didn’t expect to see any action. He still helped out around town where he could — even if most days he was found working at Greymark's General Mart.
Luke was nowhere to be seen today, apparently, as it was Clary’s mother Jocelyn behind the counter. “Alec? Is that you? By the angel, look how much you’ve grown. You were barely eighteen when you left us!” She stepped around the counter to pull him into a tight hug. “How long has it been? Two years? Three?”
“Five, actually,” Alec replied. “Next year will be my last year of school.”
“My gosh, how time flies. What can I help you with today. I hear your mother is out of town — are you here for your household’s weekly order?”
Alec shrugged; he hadn’t known that there was a weekly order but if he was here, he might as well pick it up. His mother had left him in charge of running the manor in her absence, after all. “Well, I wasn’t, but I can certainly pick it up while I’m here. Izzy wanted me to grab a few things for her while she was preoccupied.” He pulled the list out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Do you have all this or know where I could get it?”
She scanned the small piece of parchment before nodding. “I think I’ve got most of it. It will take me a few minutes to put it together. Do you want to wait or would you like to come back? Shouldn’t take me long...maybe twenty, thirty minutes tops. If you’ve got other errands to run, now would be a good time.”
“I’ll come back, thank you,” Alec replied with a smile. “I want to stop by the Dough-Re-Me Bakery and pick Max up a treat. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to be spoiled by his big brother.”
“I’m sure he will most certainly appreciate it. This will be ready for you by the time you return.”
----------
The bakery was owned by the older sister of one of Alec’s old classmates. He and Andrew had been good friends growing up and they had often been the guinea pigs for Ava’s recipes before she’d finally been able to buy the bakery of her dreams. It may be the only actual bakery in town but Alec knew that she would be willing to whip him up a sweet treat for his younger brother if she didn’t already have any available.
The store was empty when he first entered, but a set of sleigh bells hanging on the door handle announced his arrival. Alec waited patiently, knowing that Ava was likely up to her elbows in dough in the back room. When the door behind the counter finally swung open, it was Andrew who stepped through.
“Alec? My gosh, when did you get back? I thought you’d gotten too good for us out there in the big city!”
“I haven’t been back long,” he laughed, extending his hand to Andrew. “Two weeks or so — my mother called me back to keep an eye on things while she went to Alicante to petition the king for help to find a cure. I had some errands to run so I thought I’d stop by and pick up something for Max while I was in town. Is your sister around? I was hoping to get some of her famous caramel cookies.”
Andrew’s smile faltered and Alec knew that he’d said something wrong. “Unfortunately, Ava has fallen to the stone sickness.”
“I’m so sorry,” Alec replied, grasping Andrew’s hand tighter and pulling the other man into a hug. “I didn’t know.”
“This illness isn’t your fault...and your father was one of the first to succumb. It seems no one is safe,” The other man sighed and stepped away from the hug. “In the meantime, I’m doing what I can to keep this place going. I can bake but I can’t work the wonders in the kitchen that my sister can. I hope your mother and the council are successful in Alicante. A cure for this cannot come soon enough.”
Alec wanted desperately to reassure Andrew that one way or another — whether his mother gained the King’s support or not — that he was determined to find a cure. How do you tell someone who was raised to be terrified of the magic that the woods hold that you’d gone to that very place looking for the monsters who live there in hopes that they could offer help that could save the town? He was fairly certain that the other man wouldn’t judge him for attempting to go to the goblins for help, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up regardless.
“Something will come, I’m sure of it. Everything happens for a reason,does it not? ‘After the storm, the sun will shine again’ as the saying goes…Now, I’ve got some time before Jocelyn has my order ready. Is there something I can help you with while I wait? We can catch up.”
----------
Helping Andrew around the store took longer than Alec had expected, but it had been nice to catch up with him despite the rather unfortunate circumstances surrounding it. By the time he made it back to Greymark’s General Mart, the sun was high in the afternoon sky. The bell over the door caught Jocelyn’s attention and she looked up from the counter. “Ah, there you are. You get tied up at the bakery?”
“Just catching up with Andrew,” he replied, stepping up to the counter and removing his coin purse from his pocket. “I haven’t spoken with anyone outside of my siblings since I moved to Alicante. We used to go to school together.”
“That’s right, I forgot that you’re a few years older than Clary. Such a shame about Ava — we’ve lost too many good people to this blasted illness.”
“Speaking of...Luke — is he…?
“Oh no!” She replied quickly. “Lucian is absolutely fine. We’ve had a lot of the guard fall victim however, so he was asked to go to the border to assist with strategy. Apparently there have been some skirmishes with the locals and being down so many men right now has the Captain worried. Lucian might not be able to fight any longer but he still has his tactical mind.” She handed him his change and patted his hand reassuringly. “I’ll tell him you said hello though. Hopefully, he’ll be here before you head back to the city. I know that he’d like to see you.”
----------
By the time Alec returned home, the sun had long since dipped below the treeline and Jace had apparently returned from the job that he had taken.
“Did you forget how to get to town since you’ve been gone?” His sister asked, barely looking up from a piece of parchment in her hand.
“No, I spent the afternoon helping Andrew out and catching up with him,” Alec replied, placing the bags that he had been carrying on the table next to her and fishing around in one for a small, white box. “I was hoping to pick up some of Ava’s caramel cookies but I didn’t realize that she’d fallen ill. You’ll have to settle for chocolate chip instead.”
Jace jumped off the corner of the table that he’d been perching on and made a desperate grab for the white cardboard box.
“I thought you were full,” Isabelle stated, leveling a glare in her brother’s direction. “That’s specifically what you said when I offered to make dinner.”
Jace winced all too aware of the lie that he’d just been caught in. “That was then and this is now. Besides, am I just supposed to say no to free cookies?” He replied, stuffing one in his mouth and holding the box out in her general direction as a peace offering. She hesitated for only a moment before she sighed and accepted a cookie.
“If I remember correctly, Ava was one of the first people outside of the soldiers who got sick.” She flipped the paper that she was holding over and pointed. “See: Ava Underhill - May 1st. She’s at the top of the list right underneath father’s men.”
“This is a list of everyone that’s gotten sick?” Alec asked, taking the parchment from her and paling as he realized just how many names were there.
“Since the beginning,” Isabelle replied sadly. “We just added three more names today. Trust me, a cure cannot come soon enough.”
“Speaking of — any luck with the paste? Or did we hit another dead end?”
“I haven’t been back upstairs yet...let’s go take a look.”
----------
Their father lay unconscious and unmoving and exactly how they had left him earlier that morning. The disgusting green goo that they’d rubbed on his arms had dried, leaving a slightly less disgusting flakey mess in its place. “Well, the clean up will certainly be easier than the application,” Alec muttered, scrapping at some of the residue that had been left behind. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the green out of my skin.”
“Oh, quit complaining,” His sister replied, following suit with their father’s over arm. She poked at the skin that had been revealed and then frowned. “Alec...I think it did something. He doesn’t feel as cold...and his skin isn’t exactly as hard? I mean, it’s definitely not entirely a cure but it’s definitely something.”
Alec finished flaking the rest of the paste off and tapped his father’s arm, repeating the process on an area of skin that they hadn’t applied the poultice to earlier. “It’s… I don’t know. You’re right...somehow. Magnus did say treat the symptoms and maybe they would lead to a cure. It’s a start...but I wouldn’t be getting my hopes up that we’ve managed to do what the various physicians couldn’t.”
“Those physicians didn’t have my stubborn older brother and his determination to take care of his family. We should make some more of that paste… and it can’t hurt to try some of the tea I whipped up earlier too…” Alec could already see his sister’s mind going a thousand miles a minute with all the possibilities that had now opened up with the first start of...hope.
“Izzy,” He grabbed her shoulders gently and forced her to stand still for just a moment. “Iz, just remember...this is a start, alright? It’s not the cure but it could lead there.” She nodded her understanding and Alec couldn’t help but pull her into a hug. “Alright, now… you want to make some more, you said? What can I do to help?”
----------
Long after his sister had finally finished ordering him around, by some miracle, he’d been able to herd her off to bed. He closed his bedroom door behind himself and sighed, glancing briefly at the clock as he did. If he managed to fall asleep within the next half an hour, he could get a few hours of rest before he had to be up to rein his sister in before she worked herself half to death trying something that may or may not work.
He began the arduous process of getting himself ready for sleep, realizing for the first time since he’d gotten home from his trip to town earlier that day just how exhausted he was. He laid down and closed his eyes when a sudden frantic buzzing had him jolt away. He sat up in time to see a small piece of paper fall to his bed and ignite the end of his quilt as it landed. He jumped out of bed, throwing the quilt onto the floor and beating at the small fire with his pillow until it was fully extinguished before slowly picking it up to get a closer look.
He couldn’t keep the small smile from his face as he read.
My darling Alexander —
I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize if I gave you a fright… it only occurred to me once I’d already made up my mind to send it that most non-magically inclined people may never have seen a fire message before. Ragnor assures me that I’m being a blind and besotted idiot but alas, there are some parts of our souls that we just cannot change.
I hope you are having much better luck than I am in finding a cure for the people of Idris. My poor friend Raphael remains very much allergic to sunlight. We’ve spent the day pouring over all of Ragnor’s books but between my innate magical ability, Ragnor’s tendency to be a packrat, and Catarina’s healing, we’ve yet to find something that actually works.
Though we only had three short nights together, I cherished the time that we were able to spend together. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Alexander, and I do hope that one day our paths will cross once again. (Preferably sooner rather than later.)
Until then,
Magnus Bane
PS - I just now realize that this might be a little awkward with leaving you no way to return the letter. I forget that not everyone has access to magic. Until I find a solution, I’ll just have to imagine your responses.
Magnus had included a sketch below his signature of a sprig of what looked like rosemary (though Alec had to admit that he was certainly no expert.) He knew that Magnus had gone over the plant’s meaning and medical use during the few days that they had spent together but without going back downstairs to cross reference the pages of handwritten notes that he’d left in the workshop, he knew that the meaning of the plant was would remain a mystery until the morning.
He set the letter aside, hiding it under some letters from family in the drawer of his end table, and let himself drift to sleep with a content smile on his face.
----------
Two weeks later, he and his siblings were no closer to finding a cure outside of their mild success with the disgusting green paste. His father’s skin had remained hard but the paste had helped by returning some of the natural color, replacing the greyness that they had come to associate with the illness.
Unfortunately, his father remained unconscious.
“I hate to say it, Alec, but we might need you to go see if Magnus could offer any more assistance,” his sister stated with a sigh, wiping the remnants of their latest attempt at some sort of tea off on a towel that he had passed her. “I’ve tried everything I can think of here...I just don’t have the knowledge that someone who grew up in the woods would have. Our ancestors weren’t exactly close with the goblins...there’s probably a ton that the books haven’t included.”
Alec had known that eventually he’d be asked to venture into Edom Forest once again and he’d been anxiously counting down the number of recipes that were left in the little journal that his sister had been keeping. They’d crossed the last one off the list early the previous day and he’d been waiting for his sister to broach the topic of needing more knowledge or ingredients ever since.
Truth be told, there was another reason that Alec wanted to go try to find Magnus but that he’d never admit to Isabelle and Jace. Ever since Magnus’ first letter — fire message, he reminded himself — had come the day after he had returned home, he’d received at least a short message every night. Three nights ago, however, the letters had stopped and Alec had grown increasingly worried each night that passed without one.
His instincts told him that something had happened and that Magnus was in trouble and Alec had learned early on to listen to those instincts when they were trying to tell him something.
“Well, the plus side is that at least this time I have a way to find him,” Alec replied, trying not to seem too eager as he patted the chest pocket where he’d kept the magical coin since his return. “Do you have a list for me? Or do you want me to see what Magnus comes up with?”
His sister looked him over with a judgemental eye and Alec was certain for a moment that she could see right through him. “I’ve got a list, but I also wouldn’t be opposed to you picking your goblin’s brain for any other information that he can offer us.”
“I can leave shortly — just let me pack enough for a couple of days just in case and I can head right out.”
----------
By the time Alec finally set out to head to Edom Forest, he was an ever growing bundle of nerves. He couldn’t get to the woods fast enough. He spurred his horse down the dirt path without even hesitating at the entrance as he had each of the prior times he’d come before. Once he was past the entrance and where he was certain the wards that Magnus had mentioned before began, only then did he finally bring Flame to a stop so he could fish the coin out from his pocket without risking losing it.
Magnus had only given him the barest instructions on how to use the coin so he would just have to trust in the magic that apparently made it work.
He held the coin cat side down in his hand and waited a few tense moments where nothing appeared to happen. Finally, the coin spun slowly before pointing down a trail that Alec was fairly certain he hadn’t taken before. He closed his hand over the coin and continued to ride, pausing every so often to check the direction that the arrow was pointing.
He rode hard for the remainder of the day, wishing that Magnus had included some sort of spell to tell him just how close he was getting to his target. As night fell and Alec’s horse began to breathe heavily from the day’s exertion, he was starting to worry that he wouldn’t stumble across Magnus before the darkness completely took over the woods.
There was an unnatural scream from straight ahead and Alec was instantly on guard. Flame reared and Alec lost his balance and fell from his horse’s back in a way that he hadn’t since he’d first learned to ride. The gelding took off back the direction that they’d come from, leaving Alec sitting in the mud alone. “Hey! Flame! Get back here!”
There was another roar — this time louder and closer — and all the natural sounds from the woods came to a complete halt. The birds had stopped singing, the frogs had stopped croaking, and the crickets had stopped chirping.
A silent woods was a dangerous woods and Alec realized very quickly that he had made a grave mistake.
He dared not move hoping that whatever predator was in the woods somewhere in the darkness ahead chose not to come this way and investigate further.
He held his breath knowing that he’d have no such luck. That’s not the way things worked for Alec Lightwood.
There was no further shriek that came, but the crashing through the undergrowth grew louder and closer. He glanced up at the trees around him wondering if he could scale them as quickly and as quietly as his little brother could. Finally the movement stopped and Alec...couldn’t breathe. “Sire! Over here — we found somethin’!” A voice half-screamed, half-mewled from somewhere off to Alec’s left. He could only sit there frozen as the voices grew closer, and Alec found himself about to face the Goblin King himself.
A man stepped out of the undergrowth wearing a tattered suit of red and black that appeared to have mushrooms growing out of each shoulder. His feet were bare and he was wearing a hat that sported a gold and white feather that belonged to no bird that Alec had ever seen. “Well, well, well…” The man started, holding up the lantern and allowing Alec to finally notice his eyes.
Familiar cat eyes stared down at him with a mocking expression on the unfamiliar face.
“What do we have here?” The man asked, bending down to get a closer look at Alec. “A human, how strange. You’ve somehow managed to make it past my son’s protective wards and found yourself this far into the forest, without running into any of the beasts that lurk in the shadows waiting for their unsuspecting prey. What shall I do with you?”
He inched closer and Alec tried to scoot backwards, running smack into a set of legs that ended in clawed bird feet. The man grinned, his smile a little too large and his teeth a little too pointed for Alec’s comfort as he took a tentative sniff of the air in front of Alec. “Well isn’t that interesting. You smell of that stupid brat that wandered into the woods not too long that didn’t realize the danger that he walked right into...and there’s something else.” He took another sniff and the wolfish smile was replaced with a scowl. “And my son’s magic. You reek of him.”
There was only one person with magic that Alec had any sort of regular, well irregular, contact with in the last few weeks...at least to his knowledge.
That meant...Magnus.
Magnus was the son of the Goblin King himself.
Magnus was a prince.
“We’ve found hoofprints,” the goblin with the bird feet spoke up, his voice a whistling trill that was painful to Alec’s ears. “Not ones that belong to that damn vicious beast that he rides around on. These are shod — the horse was wearing shoes.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?!” Asmodeus screamed, his anger materializing in a flare of angry red magical flames behind him. The goblins took a few hasty steps back, terrified of their king’s power. The bird-footed one waited until the flames had subsided before he took half a step forward, his hands raised in peace.
“We were hoping to catch ‘im, they were often traveling together. We thought you would enjoy being gifted your son and his new toy.”
Asmodeus took a deep breath, apparently calming his nerves in a way that Alec was sure wasn’t actually working. “A little bit of warning when my son is involved is always preferred, especially after the brat stole something that was rightfully mine.” He glanced down at Alec, the disgust clearly written on his face. “Perhaps…”
He snapped his fingers and a mole-like goblin with large teeth and long toes scurried forward. “Yes, sire?”
“My son stole from me, so I shall take something that belongs to him. Take him back to camp; it looks like our dinner came to us today.”
Alec found himself roughly shoved backwards. Two goblins held him down, with a third coming up behind them and quickly began wrapping thick rope-like vines around his hands and feet. He thrashed about, trying to free himself from the goblin’s grasp, but one of the creatures holding him sent a quick jolt of magic through his body, effectively freezing his limbs. Alec opened his mouth to scream, hoping at least to be able to shout for Magnus and hope that the half-goblin was close enough to hear, but found that no words would leave his mouth.
Asmodeus grinned slyly at Alec’s bound state before turning and disappearing back into the forest, expecting his crew to follow after him. The bird-like goblin waved a hand in Alec’s direction and Alec found himself slowly lifting into the air and floating after the troop of creatures.
As the group moved back to whence they came, Alec could hear the screams and squeals turn to song. It was the same tune from the first night he’d spent in the woods — the one that Magnus had used magic to prevent him from hearing so he wouldn’t be called to the goblin’s camp. Just like before, he could feel the song call to him, promising him things that he knew it could not deliver. It was electric and inviting; but this time, Alec found himself not drawn to the mystery, magic, and danger that the goblin song contained.
Maybe it was something that Magnus had done or maybe the forest was having some sort of effect on him, but all Alec knew was that the song that had once lured maidens into the woods and lone travelers into their camp wasn’t working.
Their trek to camp lasted an hour. He begged and pleaded to whatever god would listen that Magnus would suddenly pop out from behind the trees and save him, but in his heart he realized that was wishful thinking. The woods were vast and full of dangers. Magnus accidentally coming across the goblins when he normally went so far out of his way to avoid them and protect himself from being found and hunted was little more than a dream.
When they finally reached the camp with the caravans that Alec had seen the night that Magnus had taken the medallion, the bird-footed goblin snapped his fingers and Alec fell quickly to the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him and causing him to grunt in pain. “Where would you like the horrible creature?” The goblin asked Asmodeus as the king removed his hat and tossed it inside the red caravan with the black roof (the very one, Alec noted, that Magnus had gone into that night.)
“Well, I said dinner, so dinner he shall be,” The goblin king replied with a shrug, glancing over the crowd of assembled beasts. “Would you like stew or roast tonight?”
The creatures screamed and squawked in a language that was unintelligible to Alec but must have meant something to Asmodeus. The goblin grinned with that same unsettling smile he’d worn earlier. “Roast it is then. Get the fire going and get him ready. We’ll eat well tonight — a reward for all your hard work.”
The creatures left Alec lying in the dirt as they dispersed to take care of their assigned tasks. He rolled to his side and tried to push himself to his feet as he struggled against the thick vines wrapped around his limbs. “Now, now, little human. Where do you think you’re going? We can’t have a feast without the main course now, can we?”
An electric and biting wave of angry red settled over him like a small bubble, and Alec found himself even further trapped. “Good boy. Stay there until we’re ready for you.”
Alec’s bubble was too small for him to truly push himself up into a sitting position so he could only watch from his prone position on the ground as the goblins prepped for their meal. Meal. Asmodeus’ words were finally registering in his mind and Alec felt his blood run cold. They were going to eat him. He watched as two goblins finished piling up some firewood and called magic to their fingers, starting the large cooking fire with none of the ease that Magnus did.
They were going to roast him.
He needed to get out of here because this was not how he dreamed of meeting his end. He’d hoped that one day he’d grow old and die peacefully in his sleep as so many of his ancestors had. He refused to be eaten.
He tried to scream, but the words got stuck on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t sure if that was from the bubble or the magic that had been used on him earlier but even if he had been able to speak, it would likely have been a lost cause. What’s the point of screaming when there was no one around to hear him except the very creatures that were currently preparing to cook him?
He tentatively probed at the bubble with his foot and hissed in pain as a sharp jolt of electricity shot up his leg. Okay, so touching that thing was definitely not an option. He had to find another way out of here…
What would Jace do right now? He knew for a fact that his brother had his fair share of squabbles that have ended with him tied up, in chains, or in jail (and sometimes all of the above.) He was sure that Jace had needed to get himself out of seemingly impossible situations before.
So what would Jace do now?
He could almost hear his brother mocking him in his head. ‘How did you manage to make such a stupid mistake, Alec? Dad taught us to be more aware when danger could be afoot...but right now, you’re in a damn fucking mess and you need to get out of it. So...what do you have?’
What did he have? And what could he access with his arms bound the way that they were?
He had the clothes on his back - not useful. At some point, they’d divested him of his hunting knife so that was no longer in his pocket. He had the list from his sister, a crushed flower from the last time he’d been in the woods, and…
The coin.
He still had Magnus’ coin.
He knew that the coin’s main purpose was to lead him to Magnus’ location, but to do that, it used magic.
Alec didn’t know a lot about magic. Hell, he pretty much knew nothing about magic outside of what he had learned from Magnus, but there was one book that he’d come across in the manor’s library (which he’d been spending more time in than his own bedroom these days) that had focused on spells and enchantments that could be used by non-magical people. He hadn’t had a chance to do more than flip through it since they’d been so busy with trying to find a cure that he hadn’t wanted to waste time.
There was one thing he did remember from the few pages that he’d perused however. The book seemed to mention on each page that there was a special kind of magic in blood…
And that Alec did have.
Maybe there was a way to use his blood to reverse engineer the magic in Magnus’ spell. Instead of the coin showing Alec to Magnus, it would lead Magnus to him instead. It sounded like an absolutely impossible and improbable idea but it was the only idea that he had right now and he was very quickly running out of time.
Based on the cheering that was coming from the center of camp, Alec had a feeling that the goblin’s dinner preparations were close to complete. He wiggled as best as he could to get his arms in a position where they could secret the coin from his pocket. Once that was safely in his hand, he glanced around his cramped prison. He could bite himself, if necessary, but that was both tedious and way too obvious. He was hoping that there would be something he could use…
There.
Half-hidden under leaf litter and moss was a rock with what appeared to be an edge that was sharp enough to slice through his skin. Unfortunately, that rock was up by his head, and with no way to twist his body to get his arms closer within the confines of his bubble, that left Alec with no choice but to draw blood from the only part of his body that could reach.
His face.
He scooted a few inches closer, all the movement that the bubble afforded him, and placed his cheek on the edge of the rock. He paused only a fraction of a second to take a deep breath and steel his nerves before he pressed his cheek into the stone and drug it across quickly. He felt the blood start to dribble from the fresh cut and he sighed in relief. Now, to find a way to get some to the coin and pray that he could work some magic of his own.
He couldn’t lift his hands and move it closer to his head, but he could tilt his head and move it a little closer to his hands. With more flexibility than he realized that he had, he was able to smear a few drops of blood across the surface of the coin. Now, to pray for a miracle.
Alec closed his eyes tightly, remembering that Magnus had said that magic often worked through intent, and poured every ounce of his willpower and belief into accomplishing what he hoped he could — leading Magnus to him the same way Magnus had told him that the coin would lead Alec to him.
Please, Magnus, I need you. Be my knight in shining armor. I can’t get out of this one alone.
He felt the air pressure change and opened his eyes to find that the bubble was gone. He hoped to be staring into Magnus’ eyes but was sorely disappointed. Cat eyes indeed stared down at him, but they were unfortunately set in Asmodeus’ face and not his son’s. The goblin king had a hungry expression on his face. “Praying won’t help you, human. Your gods have no power in these woods. This is my domain. My rules. My decisions. And I’ve decided that you’re going to be dinner for my court.” He snapped his fingers and two of the more animalistic creatures rushed forward. “Get him up and ready.”
The rat-like creatures dragged Alec up into a sitting position and began tearing at his shirt with their sharp claws, the tips brushing his skin and leaving angry red welts. He closed his eyes, knowing that fighting would get him nowhere, and continued his silent mantra with the coin still pressed tightly into his palm.
Please Magnus, find me, please.
Suddenly the goblins froze, listening as there was a shout from somewhere behind Alec that followed by the sound of crashing and screams as creatures scrambled out of the way of whatever beast was heading towards them. Alec twisted his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of the monster before he met his untimely (but still better option than being cooked alive) end.
The noise came to a slow stop just a few feet from him, and he could hear the heavy breathing of an exhausted horse.
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