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goldenponcho · 11 months

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You Can Lead a Castellan to Water…

Not a ton of Salazar in this chapter, but the next will have plenty!

Chapter 3: Reconnaissance

The servants had been only minutes after Ramon had left in filling the ornate brass tub with steaming water. They were there and gone with barely a word or two of Spanish between them, none of them even sparing a glance toward Gail. Though, there had been two clearly guarding the door.

One had taken her dirty clothes as he left, and she had called after him to make sure she got them back, but there was no telling whether that was going to happen. That was her good work suit!

Now, she stretched out in the long, deep tub of luxuriously warm water. They had also poured some kind of oil in as well that smelled of lavender and did not go unappreciated. It was certainly an upgrade from her previous situation.

She examined her bandaged arm as she carefully washed her hand, making sure not to wet the wraps. There wasn’t even a speck of blood seeping through.

Turning the arm over, she checked the back of her hand. No black veins. Hopefully she was right in thinking the parasite wouldn’t be able to take hold of her. Not that it was THAT much of a plus. She was still stuck here, and when they realized that their plan hadn’t worked, what good would she be to them then?

No good alive.

Scrubbing the filth from her, she thought back to the little castellan. She couldn’t say the man was exactly stable, far from it. But he had shown signs of being capable of human decency. He had actually felt like the most human creature she had been in contact with through this whole ordeal. Hopefully he had the type of sway he thought he did, so if she played her cards right, he could at the very least keep her living.

Gail yawned, looking to the large canopy bed. When was the last time she had slept on anything but concrete or an exam table? She was gonna sleep like a baby tonight, plaga or no.

When the water had started to cool and her hair was halfway dry, she stepped out of the tub. Looking at the doors at both sides of the room, she realized someone could walk in on her at any time. Whatever… If they did, that was their own fault for not knocking.

Once dried, she wrapped the towel around her and went to the wardrobe in the side room. It creaked as she opened it and was met with what looked like several QUITE expensive dresses. They must have belonged to Ramon’s mother at one point. Or maybe an ex-lover? She doubted it, what with the current state of things.

She found what looked to be the most comfortable: a relatively simple, white shift, pleated around the shoulders and bunched around the upper arms, ending around the elbows. Some toiletries had also been set on the dresser, which she used at her own discretion. This included a perfume bottle that she took a whiff of and found to be quite nice. She didn’t usually wear perfume, but it was pleasant enough. And even if it hadn’t been, she imagined it would be an offense to her host if she declined it. Best to go ahead and put that on.

There was also a small tube of toothpaste, the brand name reading “Corpore Sano”, with a fresh bamboo toothbrush next to it. She squeezed some of the paste onto the brush, thankful that despite how old fashioned everything was around here, Ramon was up to date on oral hygiene.

After brushing her teeth, she pulled down the covers on the bed and snuggled in. She found a comfortable position quickly, and she was out in what would later seem like seconds.

~*~*~*~

Gail roused very slowly from sleep. The bed was heavenly, and as wakefulness seeped into her consciousness she found herself not at all wanting to move.

“Levántate, hermosa mia.”

Gail barrel rolled at lightning speed with a shriek of “What the shit!”, and she found herself face to smirking face with Ramon Salazar.

His mischievous chuckle told her he had gotten the exact response he had wanted, and she rubbed her eyes with a tired groan, “CHRIST! You trying to put me in cardiac arrest!”

“Only keeping you on your toes, as it were…” The toothy grin didn’t leave his face.

“Ya don’t think that could be bad for a growing plaga?” She sat up, suddenly thankful she had awoken earlier to use the chamber pot so she hadn’t accidentally pissed herself.

“Not at all!” He leaned forward slightly, hands linked behind his back, “A growing plaga needs a bit of excitement on occasion…in preparation for excitement to come.”

Gail wasn’t one hundred percent sure what that meant, but she was still too drowsy to care too much.

“Do sit on the side of the bed, por favor.”

She sighed, knowing his intentions and wondering if he would find what she thought he would. Other than the fog of just having woken, she felt fine. She hoped it was early enough to not arouse too much suspicion should he find no signs of her having accepted her plaga.

She draped her legs over the side of the bed and sat still as he reached up to examine her iris again. She forced herself to keep eye contact as the subtle shift in his expression was apparent.

“Hmm…” he remained there for a painfully long few seconds before finally releasing her and beckoning with a flick of his fingers, “Your hand…”

He was motioning for her good arm, and being sure not to hesitate, she placed her palm in his.

Ramon examined her hand thoroughly, scanning for any hint of black veins at all. Just one. His teeth clinched ever so slightly in his delicate jaw, and he quelled his nerves as he placed his other hand on top of hers, running fingers over the soft ridges there, pressing lightly for any sign of anything.

Nothing…

He flipped her hand in his and pressed fingers into the smooth skin of her wrist and forearm.

Nothing…

“My doctors always told me I’ve got deep veins…” she attempted to sooth his suspicions, “They always have to poke me a million times to draw blood…”

Ramon’s brows furrowed in frustration, “You should be showing by now…” he said this more to himself than to her.

Gail scoffed, “Is this a plaga or a pregnancy?”

Ramon’s glare raised to her as his grip on her tightened, and she thought fast.

“Honestly, though, I’ve always been a late bloomer,” she shrugged a shoulder, “It’s only been maybe half a day anyway. Some of the ones back in the labs seemed to take a long time too.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he still kept a firm grip on her arm, “The labs? Why would you have been kept in the labs.”

Gail’s stomach sank as she realized she may have let too much slip, and she quickly scrambled to recover, “I…think they were monitoring me for some reason. I guess…whatever they found made Saddler decide to give me that special plaga?”

“LORD Saddler,” he corrected her in a snippy tone.

“RIGHT!” She bowed her head in an outward show of reverence, “Lord Saddler…”

Ramon’s suspicious look didn’t waver, but it did soften, “Perhaps this class of plaga DOES require a longer incubation period. It WAS the first one I’ve implanted myself.” He nodded toward her with an authoritative stare, “You will remain in bed for the day, Miss Crain. And I would like for you to try to get as much sleep as possible.”

Gail only nodded, thinking it best to not press her luck by speaking further.

The black cloaked Verdugo approached them, presenting Ramon with the medical kit, and Ramon held out a hand again, “Allow me to provide you a fresh bandage.”

Gail raised her head as her features brightened, and she let him do just that. When her old bandage was removed, Ramon’s mouth turned up in a much more satisfied expression.

“Here is a good sign! You are nearly healed!”

Gail gave a soft gasp as he traced where the wound had previously been, and she only felt a faint sensitivity there, “Really?!”

“See for yourself,” he pushed her arm back to her, with no need to redress it, and sure enough, there was nothing but a raised scar.

“Perhaps my plagas manifest differently than the other tiers,” he mused happily, “Hm! I shall discuss it with Lord Saddler soon.”

Ramon then joined his Verdugos again at the door, “The servants will be checking in to make sure you are obeying my prescribed order for sleep and will alert me should your transformation progress further.” He seemed quite satisfied as he clasped his hands together, “And with that, I will leave you, señorita.”

She nodded again as the door lowered shut. Sleeping was all she felt like doing now anyway. And she had time. So she obliged in getting as much sleep as she could for the rest of the day.

Servants came through the smaller door on the left every hour for the first four hours, then the fifth came three hours after that, then the sixth three hours after that. The fourth had brought her a tray of water, a small glass of white wine, and a perfectly flaky salmon filet, well seasoned with the definite taste of garlic.

After another long nap, the sixth zealot brought another tray with water and wine, red this time, and a cut of steak she didn’t recognize that was really only seared on the outside. She didn’t mind, as she usually enjoyed her meat practically still moving on the plate, and JESUS, was it a good steak! It must have been something only someone as rich as Ramon could have gotten his hands on.

She took a few sips of the wine, appreciating the indulgence, but not taking too much. Wine in general wasn’t exactly to her taste, and there wasn’t enough to get even a bit tipsy on, so she stuck mostly to her water.

Once Gail had finished off her steak, she was feeling quite alert. She stood from the bed for the first time since the night before and stretched with a yawn. It was time to explore her surroundings.

She turned to the dresser next to the bed where a lamp, a clock, and a decorative plate sat. She noted that the clock showed five thirty seven, fairly close to the time she suspected. In the middle of summer in Spain, there would be about four more hours of daylight, give or take.

With a glance back around the corner to the smaller wooden door, then to the larger metal one, she quietly slid open the top drawer. It was full of lightly laced, white, linen shirts. Men’s undershirts, she guessed, and pulling one out, her suspicions were confirmed. These were definitely Ramon’s. They would have fit him a bit loosely, but on Gail, they would have been bordering on skin tight.

She folded it back up and tucked it away, checking the remaining drawers. All Ramon’s clothes. She realized that she recognized the scent on them as his cologne, a mixture of floral and wood scents that wasn’t at all unpleasant. The man had amazing taste, she was learning that quickly.

She moved on to the rest of the room. The fireplace across from the bed she had gotten most familiar with already, as it had been in her direct line of sight when she was awake. There was a vanity next to that, but instead of a mirror there were cabinets with various bottles and combs and brushes inside. The drawers below weren’t much different.

Noting a table with an old typewriter not far from the wooden door, she turned back to search the side room next to the bed. Knowing already what the right wardrobe held, she went to the left one. All more of Ramon’s clothes. There were several more blue and gold coats, waistcoats, and breeches all with slightly different detailing. One set was in all gold, and she couldn’t help think of how dapper the little castellan probably looked in it.

In the far wardrobe, there were a few old shoeboxes and a small, bejeweled mirror. Nothing of real use to her now… She turned back to the threshold to the bed, and her eyes spotted the clock again. She didn’t really need to know the EXACT time, did she? No, she decided, and she scooted across to the other side of the bed to grab it.

Gail quickly flipped it over and opened the back. There was what she needed: the thin, hooked metal piece that held the pendulum. The perfect lock pick.

She removed the piece, wasting no time in taking it to the wooden door. Pressing an ear to it, she heard nothing. Good.

It took about fifteen minutes, including rechecking for movement on the other side of the door a few times, to get it unlocked. Slowly, she opened the door. There was a short hallway that turned left into the rest of the room. With no shoes, she tramped quietly to the bend, gown trailing behind her like a cape before she stopped to peek around the corner.

It was the dining room. There were two large tables, and the places were all set as if Ramon had been expecting many guests soon. She had no time to examine further as a small group of zealots entered from the other side. But she did get a long enough look to see Ramon himself enter the room behind the others to take a seat at the head of the far table.

Guess it’s HIS supper time now.

Her gaze landed on the silverware at the nearest table, and she formulated a new plan.

She risked another peek, and saw that one of the zealots was headed her direction.

Quickly but quietly, she padded back to her wooden door opening then sliding it shut, thankful for its well oiled hinges. She scrambled to relock the door with the small metal piece. It didn’t take long, luckily, and she went back to her bed to wait out for a bit in case anyone got suspicious and came to check on her. Before that, though, she grabbed for the dirty silverware on the plate she had left on one of the chairs, and shoved them under the pillow.

And she would be glad she had, as she heard the sound of the cylinders clicking, and she went limp onto the pillow as the door opened. She watched as the shadow of a female zealot approached and closed her eyes as she rounded the corner and took her tray with the dirty plate and glasses, apparently not noticing the absence of the fork and knife.

When Gail’s eyes opened, she realized that there was a third figure present. The unmistakable shadow of a tricorn hat ghosted onto the wall facing her.

Had he seen her?

He lingered there far longer than it had taken the zealot to leave with the dishes and her stomach sank. There would be hell to pay if he knew she had gotten out. Maybe she should have waited longer. She still needed to gain his trust. She knew she wasn’t escaping here just by breaking out.

Her thumping heart calmed as his shadow was eclipsed by the door as it slowly slid shut and was locked. He might have been suspicious, but he hadn’t SEEN her.

Gail decided to rest for a while longer. She hoped he wouldn’t make her sleep the whole day tomorrow; she wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep through the night.

She starred at the wall where Ramon’s shadow had been. She couldn’t get caught next time. He had to think she wasn’t trying to run, or she would never make it out of here. Charm would only take her so far in gaining his good favor.

For the coming hours, she contemplated her options until another servant came to check on her. Once gone, she rose again, wasting no time in retrieving her makeshift tools and coming to the metal door.

She pressed her cheek against it to look up into the gap between the door and the inside of the inner wall. She could barely make out the cogs inside, perfectly within reach of her knife and fork. And with that information, she got to work.

#ramon salazar #re4 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #you can lead a castellan to water…

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queencvbra · 1 year

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the most random compilation of headcanons ranging from little Tory trivia things to things that are actually kind of important

She uses “strawberry pound cake” spray from B&BW and her shampoo is peach scented so she generally smells like a mixture of the two.

Since she started dyeing her hair blonde again, she’s worried about damaging it too much, so she spends roughly an hour and a half every Saturday or Sunday going through a full haircare routine to make sure it stays healthy. It’s why there’s such a drastic difference in how her hair looks from around season 2 to midway through season 4. That’s the point where she started caring more about herself, or at least about her appearance at the time.

She always has green apple gum in her bag. She’s obsessed with anything green apple flavored in general but gum is also a ✨sensory✨ thing for her so it’s her go-to.

Absolutely draws silly faces on fruits and veggies after grocery shopping.

If she’s driving, it’s karaoke time. Put up with her singing or find another ride.

Her fight or flight is triggered incredibly easily and does not subside quickly, and while Tory is definitely a fighter, you should never underestimate her ability to run away at any given moment and drop off of the face of the earth until she *wants* to be found. It can be minor like finding somewhere to cool off for a bit or major like going halfway across the state so like ... she’s really trying not to do anything like that anymore but sometimes she has The Urge.

Her childhood crush was Jesse McCartney. For a small period of time when she actually had a stable home life, she had posters of him all over her bedroom wall, and 8 year old Tory was fully convinced that somehow she was going to get married to him.

Her bi awakening was Michelle Pfeiffer as Selina Kyle in Batman Returns. Michelle is also the reason she started dyeing her hair in the first place. She really said I must emulate this woman in every way possible.

Yellow, red, and black are the most dominant colors in her wardrobe. Yellow is probably the color that is most associated with her, but her personal favorite color is actually pink. This shade, specifically.

Almost always wearing either Vans or Converse. Nikes make her cringe now but that’s because now she thinks of Kyler every time she sees a pair of Nikes.

She owns too many crop tops and half of the hoodies in her closet are not hers.

Definitely collects the weirdest shirts possible. Also sunglasses she deems “funky” (she loves that word idk).

She can’t do much with her nails because 1. long manicures are impractical for karate (and unsafe) and 2. work makes it hard to get them to last anyway so usually she keeps them short and paints them black and that’s about it. If there’s any deviation from that, then someone else probably did her nails for her.

Tory has a habit of misinterpreting things and being unsure about people’s intentions. First of all, she’s neurodivergent, and she also has a ton of trauma; a lot of the time she doesn’t have a way to gauge someone’s intentions unless she already has a history with them. Especially any attempts to get close to her or befriend her in any way, or genuine gestures of affection or care unless she’s particularly trusting of you already. She thinks every action must have an ulterior motive by default and everyone is always looking out for themselves first and foremost (because it’s safer to just assume that from the start than to get blindsided) so it’s hard for her to process the idea that there are people willing to put her first at times. She can be unnecessarily defensive, awkward, or super apologetic when she realizes there’s a misunderstanding, and again, it depends on how close she is to you. She’s probably not going to own up to it if you’re not on friendly terms.

Tory hates Taco Bell with a burning passion. It started as a running joke but it’s canon, she has threatened crunchwrap violence multiple times over people trying to get her to eat it.

Genuinely obsessed with those white opals that have multicolor flecks. She will stare at them anywhere.

Her absolute favorite song is “Take on Me” by A-ha.

Yes, her mother got her middle name from the Dolly Parton song.

“Waterloo” by Abba and “Heaven is a Place on Earth” by Belinda Carlisle both hit different for her because they were her mom’s favorite songs.

Yeah she still blames herself for everything that happened during the school fight, even if she never intended for things to get that out of control and just wanted to fight Sam. idk what it’s going to take to convince her otherwise and I’m not entirely sure that’s even possible; I feel like that’s something she’s going to carry around for a long time.

Tory has nightmares a lot, always about life-related things like stuff from her past or things that she’s scared will happen. Not every night, and it’s gotten to the point where they don’t phase her that much anymore because they’re so normal for her, but every so often she will have really bad ones that leave her a little shaken after she wakes up (or sometimes wake her up early).

She can be either a very light sleeper or will sleep so deeply you literally have to shake her to wake her up, it all depends on how safe she feels wherever she’s sleeping at the time. And she can get comfortable enough to fall asleep pretty much anywhere; it’s an acquired skill after so many years of having an unstable home life, to the point where she’s had to sleep in alleyways before.

Calla lilies are important to her because they were her mom’s favorite flower.

There’s a place around Venice Beach that’s special to her because her mother would take her and Brandon there all the time. It was (and still is) her happy place, and that’s where she goes usually goes when she wants to disappear for a bit. The only person she’s ever taken there outside of her family is Robby.

The Japanese Garden in Fresno is also special to her for a similar reason; it was the place that her mom would take her and Brandon to when they lived there.

She wears the same shade of red lipstick pretty much every day because it’s her “lucky” lipstick. She doesn’t actually think it’s “lucky”, it’s just an easier thing to say than having to explain to people that it’s a comfort object to her and having something consistent that she can put on the same way every day without it changing is a small routine that helps with her emotional regulation. (And yes, she started using that kind of red lipstick because it looks like the exact shade that Michelle Pfeiffer wore in specific scenes lmao)

Tory does have a strong maternal instinct when it comes to younger kids because she’s been parentified from a young age, basically since the day her brother was born, so she’s just used to taking on that kind of role.

She did not go to her own victory celebration. She also never told her mom the truth about the tournament because Eliza looked so proud of her and happy and Tory couldn’t bear to ruin that for her.

Tory has absolutely figured out how to cheat every single game in the arcade since she started working there and also the maximum amount of tickets she can take in a week without her boss giving a damn (it’s 400). If she likes you enough she will give them to you.

Tory didn’t care about the vodka at the country club or really want to steal at all, but she did it anyway because she was trying to show out in front of the other girls and establish a tough girl reputation so she wouldn’t get bullied like she had been at every other school she’d been to.

She’s clingy and needs regular contact / reassurance from pretty much everyone that’s important to her or else she will spiral and start to question her place in everyone’s lives again because she’s had to deal with a childhood full of people constantly walking in and out of her life and she’s scared of it happening again now that she finally has some stability. She really does go through intense bouts of “are my friends really my friends or am I just there” and “I could so very easily be replaced by everyone” and it’s no one’s fault, no one makes her feel that way, it’s literally just the ✨mental illness✨ doing it’s thing. If she’s in a bad headspace, she has a habit of seeking negative attention, too, hence her history of starting fights / instigating things / escalating other people’s conflicts in the past, but that something she’s been working really hard on in therapy and she’s largely moved past that (though the urge is still there from time to time).

I still stand by my headcanon that sai are her best weapons and I will take that to my fucking grave. Not only do they compliment her fighting style perfectly, they are also symbolic of her entire character. Katana is her second best, nunchaku is her third. And she’s not really great with a staff; she’s passable but it’s definitely not meant for her.

The reason Tory reacts so vividly to seeing her loved ones hurt is because she’s actually had people close to her die in sudden and horrible ways so she lost that “it won’t happen to them” feeling of security a long time ago. And sometimes she can overreact because she knows how fast a little thing can turn into a big problem and how quickly things can go wrong with even a “minor” injury.

She cries really easily during emotional scenes in television shows / movies. Even if it’s only vaguely emotional, idk she’s just an emotional person. Most of the time she’s not comfortable with people seeing her cry so she gets embarrassed and gets fake mad to hide it, but she’ll let it go if she feels okay around you.

Likes rain, but she hates thunderstorms because it fucks with her ptsd tbh. She’s good at hiding it for a while but she always retreats if it’s storming bad enough because she knows it’s going to put her on edge.

She likes In-N-Out because you can fold the boxes into cute little sailor hats.

Cannot be left alone for too long for multiple reasons. One, the ✨mental illness✨ kicks in more if she’s alone for long enough. Two, she cannot stand being bored and will come up with horrible ideas to get attention or pass the time. Usually if she’s trying to pull off some dumb prank or scheme it’s because she was, in fact, left alone for way too long.

#all of these are old headcanons but they're still relevant #there's a lot and I didn't want to reblog all the posts because they're small #⚡ about. ── ❝ 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. ❞

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finelinevogue · 3 years

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he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his.

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?"

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid.

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry.

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You notice a sudden change in Lord Barnes.

Note: This is just me being self-indulgent. I start a new job on Monday and yesterday, someone close to me passed. I’m trying to distract myself but I’m too stressed to work on an standing series. This will have at least one other part.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You scattered fresh herbs over the rushes carefully as you backed down the hall. The woven mats would absorb the scent and keep the floors tidy until the next sweep. When you reached the corner, you tied up the sachet and gathered up your bucket and broom. The corridors were already smelling fresher though the task had kept you well past the evening meal.

Your usual chores you assigned to Marjorie. As the years piled on her crooked back, she wasn’t as suited to the more physical tasks. Sweeping would have been too hard on her and you didn’t mind the solitary of the work.

You turned past the kitchens and stopped. Your footsteps seemed to echo behind you. You looked back but saw nothing in the shadows. It was late and most of the castle was asleep already, the torches were snuffed but for a few and you could find you way through the dark easily in the familiar castle.

You went to the rear door of the castle on the lower green, just beside the stables, and dumped the dirt. You heard the horses snoring and nicking as the moon shone down on the wood roofs. You basked for a moment in the silver light and the brisk night air. The harvest season was coming to an end and it would soon be cold.

You dropped the bar as you went back inside and returned your broom and bucket to the cellar. Again you heard a step that did not quite align with your own as you came into the corridor. You spun slowly and glanced around. Some of the younger servants were known to sneak around after hours and there was the odd mouse that skittered over the stone. You saw nothing and went on, more than ready to retire to your straw mattress beside Elsa.

“You sent the old lady,” the voice had your heart in your throat and you stopped short to bow to your liege.

“My lord, I was occupied elsewhere. Harold approved the reassignment,” you said shakily. It was unlike him to traverse the lower floors.

“She spilled wine on my tunic,” Lord Barnes said, “and she can barely see her own crooked nose.”

“My lord, she is old, we did not want her to tax herself--”

“She is a servant. Like you. You have your work and she has hers,” he stepped forward out of the dark shadows though there was no lantern or torch to limn his features, “I bid you to bring my meals and tidy my chambers, no one else. There are far too many covetous servants.”

You were put off by his confrontation. You replaced his former chambermaid several years back but Lord Barnes hardly seemed to warm to the change. He never offered more than an obligatory courtesy and when he was present during your tasks, he rarely spoke at all. Your service had been one of complacency on both sides, so you wondered why he would come to the lower floors to search you out after dark.

“I will be there tomorrow, my lord,” you said, “I apologise for my negligence.”

“And every day thus,” he demanded as he got closer.

“Yes, my lord,” you lowered your chin, “as you wish.”

He stopped only an inch from you and you felt him staring down at you. You didn’t dare look back, that would be an affront to any noble. He let out a long breath and slowly backed away.

“Go, you must be worn out from your hard work,” he retreated, “and there is as much to do on the morrow.”

“My lord,” you bent again and listened to his footsteps fade.

When you dared to look up, he was gone. The man was always particular, even those of his own standing were not guaranteed an audience, even as they visited his estate. He stayed far from court since his injury and on those occasions he did travel to the capital, it was not for more than a fortnight.

You did not take the encounter lightly. He had dismissed labour for less and you did not relish a job outside the castle, there wasn’t much to be had in the village. As dull as the work was, it provided you a place to sleep and comforts not known to many others of your breeding.

🏰

When you went to the lord’s chambers the next morning, he was away. His horse had been saddled for an early ride and you did not expect him until his evening meal. After your tasks, you kept busy until you were due with his supper. When you arrived with the tray, he was not there. You waited but he did not appear. You left the tray covered to keep the food warm and went to attend the last of your nightly duties.

You retired without seeing the lord once. The next day passed in kind, and the next, and the next. You wondered for a moment if it was due to his ire with you but quickly shrugged away the notion. Lord Barnes did not think so much of you and his absence was not so unusual. He was a reticent man even if he was willful.

The first you saw him again was with his supper. He sat at his large carved desk as you entered with the tray and you crossed to the round painted table. He raised a hand and tutted as he didn’t look up from the parchment before him.

“Bring it here,” he ordered.

You went to him and set down the tray on the left flank of his desk. You filled his goblet and he blindly reached over to take it. He gulped and kept his head down as he picked the chicken to pieces and chewed over the inky words.

You retraced your steps to the door, usually he ate alone, as he did most things. You only returned to clear his scraps.

“Do you not see the mess?” he asked without looking up. You turned and followed his sharp point to the shelves along the wall. “It is difficult to focus in the chaos.”

“My lord,” you nodded and went to the oaken shelves. You rearranged the crooked spines and tidied the stack of loose leaves. You took the cloth from your apron and wiped down the line of inkwells. You could hear him chewing quietly behind you as he shifted in his chair.

“And you will ready my bed for the night,” he demanded as you finished up, “pull back the covers, it’s been a tiresome day.”

He lifted the parchment and leaned back as he wiped his fingers on his breeches. You acquiesced with a “yes, my lord,” and went to his bedchamber.

You folded down the heavy blankets and linen and fluffed the pillows. You took the brick from the foot of the bed and set it in the hearth. The fall slipped in through the windows and the chill of the castle was no longer so welcomed.

“I won’t need that,” Barnes said as he entered. He was so quiet, you jumped and stood straight. You spun and bowed your head.

“Will that be all, my lord?” you asked as he unbuttoned his overcoat with one hand.

“My footman has been stricken with an ague after we were caught in the rain,” he said evenly, “you can aid with my wardrobe.”

“My lord?”

“Here,” he pointed in front of him and pulled his jacket free of his left arm, “you will take these,” he handed you the garment as you neared, “to the laundries.”

You kept your eyes on the plain grey fabric as he shoved his boots aside and added his socks to your armful, then lifted his tunic as you peered at the floor. He pulled of the leather glove that hid his iron hand, the metal forged to the mirror of his real extremity. You resisted the yen to look higher up the artificial appendage.

You were unprepared to act as his footman and as he stripped away his layers it made you squirm. He rolled down his breeches and slung them over the rest of his clothes.

He stood in only in his undershorts and bent your head lower, “my lord.” You backed away and he caught your elbow. He stopped you and you hugged the pile of clothes with your other arm.

“Didn’t you miss me?” he asked.

The question struck you. You were unsure how to answer. You were used to the silent, brooding lord, not this pensive, prodding master.

“My lord?” you frowned.

“You didn’t?” he urged, “do you not enjoy your duties?”

“I am only… uncertain of what you mean, my lord. I apologise for my displeasing response but I do not know how to answer.”

You looked at his hand still on your elbow. He squeezed and slowly his palm glided up your sleeve. You shivered as he pushed his hand against your neck and his thumb tickled under your chin.

“I must confess I missed you,” he said, “I did stay away because I was upset at your absence and thought to punish you in kind but it seems, it hasn’t had the same effect.”

“What do-- my lord?” you kept your eyes down as his hand moved higher and he brushed along your lower lip.

“I know I shouldn’t let these… feelings persist but there are many lords who indulge without emotion. I assure you, I do not touch you in a meaningless manner.”

“My lord,” you took a step back and he stopped you again. This time his hand gripped your jaw. He pulled you flush to him.

“Look at me,” he hissed. Your lip trembled and you raised your eyes reluctantly, “you continue to deflect me; your lord.”

You stared at him, searched his deep blue eyes desperately, and shivered, “I only seek to fulfill my duties as your chambermaid.”

“And I offer you more. Offer you… privilege over duty,” he rasped, “I would not mistreat you.”

Your heart raced and you wiggled in his grasp. You peeked down at your armful, “I should get these to the laundries, as you bid, my lord.”

He was silent, just for a moment, then he let go of you and tore his clothes from your arm. “You would deny me?”

You stumbled back and watched him fearfully, “my lord, I only-- I am only a maid--”

“I have a dozen maids,” he growled, “I would have you as more. I would take care of you.”

He bore down on you again and you backed up until you were at the hearth, the mantle jutting out against your head. You turned your head as he loomed over you and his hot breath washed over you. His hand was again at your throat as his lips trailed along your cheek.

“A lord does not ask,” he sneered, “a servant obeys.”

“My lord--”

“Shhh,” he hushed as he turned your head and pressed his lips to yours. He parted, his nose rubbing against yours as his hand stretched over your neck, “I can be kind or I can be cruel. Thus far, I’ve spent most of my patience on you.”

You quivered as he kissed you again. You were too afraid to resist as his hand descended to your bodice and he squeezed. You gasped into his mouth and he smiled against you. He grasped your waist and pressed himself to you.

Your blood went cold as the panic rose up your spine. As he tugged at your skirts, you were blinded by fear. You reached up along the mantle as he dipped his head to kiss your neck. You couldn’t think through your shock, your body seemed to move off instinct.

You grasped the beaten metal vase and swung it down on Lord Barnes’ head. He grunted and stumbled back as he touched his head and tried to shake away the pain of the impact. You tossed the vase and it bounced over the stone as you scurried for the door. You tripped as you reached the receiving chamber and heard him behind you, his steps slowly gaining strength.

“You little bitch,” his tone turned to fire.

You struggled to get the heavy door open and raced into the hall. You lifted your skirts as you barreled ahead of him on the stone. Your thin soles slapped the mats and you hurdled down the stairs as you heard his pants coupled with your own. Down and down and down and down.

You led him through the mazed corridors and flitted out through the lower doors behind the stables. You fell into the dirt and quickly climbed back to your feet. You tore off across the yard as he swore into the air and his steps came to a halt.

“I will find you!” he shouted as you head for the wall, your only hope was the tree winding up the east corner, “You won’t get far!” You reached the trunk of the towering oak and your hands scraped against the bark as you hopped and latched onto the lowest branch. You heard him calling to others, “saddle my horse! Rise and ready my horse, boy!”

You reached the top of the wall, weak and worn and hooked your leg over the stone. You carefully scaled the uneven brickwork and the tangled vines. As your feet met the dirt, you turned and fled towards the tree line, darkened with the myths of vengeful wraiths and wicked witches, driven by the threat of a worse monster behind you, the voices and hooves an omen of his intent.

#Bucky Barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #medieval #medieval au #medieval!au #fic #miniseries #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #au #winter soldier

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byorder-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Finn’s Lost Loves

Summary: Finn’s lost more than anyone else knew because of the war, and every stupid thing his family have done afterwards to keep themselves in charge.

Word count: 2019

Warnings: Mentions war and blood, talks about eating disorder, self harm and self-esteem, and homophobia (only a little bit, period accurate), a lot of toxic masculinity

Author’s note: This is a lot of angst with little bits of fluff and a sad ending. Sorry. It’s basically an overview of Finn’s character, backstory and his relationships with the family that we’ve never gotten to see! It’s based off a piece of prose in my drafts, so if you guys like this, I might post that as well. Hope you enjoy, and please comment, I love hearing your opinions and any constructive criticism you might have xx

Finn loved books. Once upon a time, he really did. He loved the way Tommy did the voices, and Arthur made those wild motions with his hands, and John could always make him laugh as he told him about that thing that happened in the pub last week. He loved how Ada and Polly would tuck him up in bed, place a kiss on his temple and read the letters from the boys. Then they came back, and he didn’t need to read letters. Or books. Or anything really. Soon, he didn’t even go to school. He just wanted to be with his brothers. Now they tell him to piss off more than they beg him to stay. Tommy and Polly scold him for not being able to read off the betting boards, and John makes everyone else laugh when he holds a big volume under Finn’s nose, so that everyone knew that Finn was still illiterate. Finn hates books.

Finn loved Church. He didn’t need Polly to drag him by the heels as he sobbed under the Virgin Mary’s stare like his brothers when he hopped, skipped and a jumped all his way down the road. He always sat by Isaiah, the two boys out-screaming each other in the hymns and seeing who Polly would scold first. He wore the crucifix everyday, and treated his rosary with all the sacred carefulness a six year old could manage. He loved the psalms and Jeremiah’s voice ringing through the streets and the way everyone was always together (even Charlie) on Sunday. Then he had to light candles, praying for his brothers’ safety that was only answered with their damnation as they dragged back blood and French mud into Watery Lane. Now he cries through the paper thin pages of a Bible and his only prayers are that the boys never see his tears. What did he have to cry about after all? He was never a soldier, but he should learn to be a man. Finn hates Church.

Finn loved healing. Ada dragged him along to her nursing classes and soon his only reason to come to Church was to learn how to tie bandages and fix up cuts and bruises. No one noticed his long absences- they either assumed he went to school still, or they were far too busy with the race tracks to care for the whereabouts of their youngest brother. But then he'd slipped up, and he'd never seen his brothers laugh so hard when he proudly told Polly he was going to be a nurse one day. Even his aunt and sister, usually the ones on his side, had to purse their lips together as Arthur roared out: "Hear that, Tom? We got ourselves a Nurse Shelby here! Want a dress and hat to go with it?" He told them all to fuck off and stamped out, but he didn't understand what he said that was so funny. When he asked Isaiah, who had just turned fourteen and starting to see Finn less and less, he just said that being a nurse was a woman's job. He didn't like being laughed at for being a girl, but he didn't know why. He still hoarded textbooks about anatomy and the like under his bed, tracing over the detailed pictures with his skeleton finger as he wished. And wished. And wished. And almost prayed that he could read the little ink words. When he found Arthur with another red line on his neck, he offered him some medicine to cure his big brother's blues, thinking just a bit of Tokyo would keep his brother here with him. No one asked why Finn was sad. Oh well, at least he could protect his brothers now. Finn hates healing. Finn loved food. Always the big eater in the Shelby household, he managed to always have a full stomach despite the poverty that reigned. He was a stickler for sweets, though, and as soon as he mastered the art of sneaking rings and wallets from unsuspecting strangers, he soon graduated to thieving lollipops and boiled sweets and even some toffees that he proudly deposited into his aunt's hand with a toothy grin. But the boys would look into his empty plate and his skinny frame and tell him he'd better watch out, soon he might actually have a shape under those bulky clothes. They always laughed, and he felt himself completely embarrassed at the dinner table. He dumped more sugar than milk into his tea and stole chips when they went to the seaside. He'd always offer to share, wanting to provide for them for once, but they'd tell him he was the one who needed it. He sees his ribs and the little vertebrae of his spine and wonders why can't he just be strong like his brothers. Even though he despises it, he picks up boxing to fill out his form. Maybe training with Isaiah was an extra benefit, but the older boy had long since talked to Finn on the regular, and made a point to laugh at him when he fell onto the floor. So, Finn graduated from second helpings of lunch and too-sweet tea to the sour delights of whiskey and cigarettes. Just like his brothers. Finn hates food. Finn loves his family. He loves Polly, the mother he never had, and will never feel like he does enough to repay her for his entire childhood. Then Michael came back, and soon there wasn't any chore lists on the downstairs table for someone to read out for him, or little check ups throughout the day as she makes sure he's okay. That was when he realised exactly why Polly raised him in her empty arms. He loves Arthur: his eldest brother, who used to lift him up on his shoulders and teach him to draw. Finn still has faded old pictures of galloping stallions (signed in block letters: A.W.S) slipped between the filled out pages of the sketchbooks he hides in his wardrobe. Then Arthur came back, with what everyone calls Flanders Blues, but no one explains, and Finn feels like he's losing his brother everyday when he comes back smelling like a brewery with blood on his fists. Finn loves Tommy. A father figure to him, the kind of man he wants to be when he grows up. But then Greta died and Tommy went to war, and the man who took him horse riding every weekend was gone, and this Tommy was colder. Finn loves John as the best friend he's ever had, always laughing together, giving sometimes useful advice and finding days to just spend time with each other. Despite John's bazillion kids, widowerhood, and then his new wife, he's always had time to spare for his little brother. John was the one who told him what bisexual was when he found Finn sobbing in his room, he was the one that took him to the doctor when he passed out from malnutrition, and he's the one that made him swear to never use razor blades on himself again. Finn loves Ada. He sees why Freddie calls her an angel, and used to love it when she pretended to take Finn to the library when in fact they were both slipping away to a Communist meeting, which would usually end up in Ada and Freddie slipping away and leaving Finn in the trusted supervision of leftist radicals that he happily chatted away to. Ada always took care of him, making sure he was never involved in the business (on either side) and telling him that being a soldier is a life sentence, not an honour. He lives because Ada keeps him safe and sane. Then Ada leaves. Finn hates the Shelby name that everyone screams at him like a condemnation, that invites slurs and hatred that only he gets because he doesn't look like a proper Shelby man. Finn hates his family. Finn loved Isaiah. A childhood crush that brought butterflies to his stomach and blushes to his freckled face. He sketched the boy's face so many times, he knew it by memory. They held hands when they were chased down the streets, laughing and sprinting as their spoils stayed securely in their pockets. But Isaiah was older than him. Soon after adolescence hit the Jesus boy and Peaky Blinders offered him a role, without the constant of Church, the two greatest of friends became almost strangers to one another. But Finn still loved him. He never told anyone, of course. He knew he wasn't a real homosexual, because he most certainly did enjoy holding hands and kissing the cheeks of girls his age (poor boy was flustered to ever do more!) but his heart still belonged to the preacher's boy. With more faithful women in the family than ever before, Finn knew he would be crucified if he ever told anyone. John was the only one who knew, and that was based on the fact he paid more attention to his brother than anyone else combined. He said he should just go for it, but Finn knew Isaiah couldn't be like him. And even if Jeremiah was always the kindest man that Finn ever met, he still didn't trust that the cross on his neck wouldn't shame him or laugh at him for the fact he was completely enamoured with his son. Then Finn got drunk, and when he woke up, his entire family knew exactly how he felt and Isaiah wouldn't look at him in the eye. He ran away to the stables, crying on Uncle Charlie's shoulder who told it would be alright. He made sure to keep an eye on Finn ever since, keeping an eye on his wrists and fists. The incident was soon forgot by everyone but him. Finn couldn't find it in him to hate Isaiah, but he knew he didn't love him any more. Finn has never loved Michael. He thought he could, at first, when he saw the tweed suit and a face more innocent than his. But then Tommy promoted him almost on the spot, and Finn had never at once felt so much rage bubble inside him. Everything he has done for his brothers, every passion he sacrificed, every humiliation he shouldered, just so they could see him as an equal. But no, there are only three Shelby brothers as far as anyone else is concerned, and Finn carries on as errand boy. He ignores all Ada's good advice, and swear that he will make his brothers proud of him one day. So, he puts on the thorn crown of a Peaky cap and wears the waistcoat and wool coat of his brother's likeness, and parades about Small Heath like he actually was apart of the makeshift royal family. Then Finn found Michael and Isaiah kissing in the alleyway. Even though Finn had made a point to announce that his brothers had started giving him more work, Isaiah still fucked off to the pub with Michael every night, devoting his time and attention to only him, and Finn couldn't understand why. Now he did. If Finn had been violent like Arthur, he certainly wouldn't have thought twice about taking the cup on his curls and cutting the smirk off of his cousin. He had stolen his brothers' respect, his surrogate mother's attention, his place in the business, the affections of the one boy Finn had ever loved. He had stolen Finn's everything, and Finn hated him. They both froze and stuttered. Excuses about just being friends, just experimenting, but he saw the way they held each others shaking hands just as he and Isaiah used to hold onto each other as they raced through the streets. "I'm glad you're together." He shocked them both with a forced smile. "You both deserve to be happy." The two were kinder to him after that, almost back to the old friendship he had missed, and Finn knew he didn't hate Michael. Or Isaiah. Or any of his family, really. No, Finn hated himself.

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justice4harwin · 3 years

Text

Light’s Corruption-Chapter II

Pairing: DarklingxAlina

Summary:With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.It won’t be pretty.

Part 1 here

TW: Mentions of/referenced sexual assault

Tags: Like last time, I’m taking the liberty of tagging the people who commented/liked/rebloged my post where I asked if anybody would wanna read a story like this, but ill do it in the comment section cause a friend told me tumblr doesn’t forget to notify that.

Again, if you don’t want to be on the tag list, please let me know, or if you’re new and wanna be added, let me know too.

Hope you like this :D

Chapter 2: Queen Tatiana

Alina allowed the light to caress her, embrace her, gentle, phantasmagories touches that seemed to be thanking her for finally accepting it.

Her eyes opened, and all she could see was gold. Looking down, she noticed the power came from her palms, which were facing forward at her sides. A dome of light had formed around her, at least five meters in diameter.

She laughed in disbelief. She felt so strong, as if nothing could ever come her way.

She felt truly alive for the very first time.

So, this is what is like, uh?

“Miss Starkov?” she heard a distant voice, and turned to see The Darkling approaching her dome, eyes squinted.

She wasn’t sure what would happen if he touched the light, but she wanted him to see it, she wanted him inside with her.

She stretched out a hand, and slowly, the man stretched his own. After a tense moment of resistance, she felt his fingers grasping hers as he passed through, and then the rest of him.

He looked around, a new gleam to his eyes that lit up his features almost as much as her power lit her.

“Very impressive for a first time, Miss Starkov.” He congratulated her, his tone almost admiring. He looked her in the eye. “Very impressive, indeed.”

“Alina,” she found herself saying, elated at both her flowing light and his praise. “please, call me Alina.”

Smiling gently, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his hand softly travelling down her neck, leaving goosebumps on its way, until it came to rest on her shoulder.

“You and I are going to change the world, Alina.” He said, with such passion is made her knees week, before turning serious again and squeezing her shoulder for a moment. “Now, make it shrink.”

“How?”

“Call it to you, as if receding the day into night, until only two small orbs remain in your hands.”

She nodded, focusing. Gently, like a mother soothing a scared child, she called the light back inside of her.

She felt like she was petting it, hushing it, telling it was time to rest.

Slowly, the dome began to shrink, and then more, and then more, and then she had to blink several times to get adjusted to the natural light of day.

She lifted her hands, one small orb of light in each, and smiled as brightly, looking up at The Darkling, who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes away from hers. His chest moved up and down in rapid motions, his gaze so wide there was almost no grey in there. There was a frenzy in his gaze, something primal yet profound, and Alina felt like he could be the one to burn her instead of the other way around.

Finally, she closed her hands into fists and the lights disappeared. She felt almost drunk, the satisfactory hum of her power now coursing through her body, giving her a new sense of confidence so foreign to her.

“You are magnificent.” The Darkling breathed out, startling her, making her cheeks burn.

“It was just my first try on my own.”

“And look around you. Look at what you can do.” He gestured with his arms.

She did, and found the grass turned black, the water of the lake smoking, some steam coming up and forth. She was definitely not putting her hand in there.

“The gardeners will hate me.”

He chuckled quietly, taking a step closer, until their chests almost brushed with their breaths.

“Maybe.” He said, taking her hand again. “But all of Ravka will love you.”

Slowly, he lifted her hand, still way too warm due do the use of her powers and bought it up to his cold lips. Alina held her breath before releasing it again, heart hammering in a way she didn’t fully comprehend.

“I don’t need all of Ravka.” She said, without thinking; a new habit around this particular man, apparently.

“Oh?”

Kiss me.

She thought, and he seemed to have guessed it, for he began to lean forward.

“ALINA STARKOV! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU ALL OVER THE PLACE! I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK AN—SAINTS!” Genya, who had been marching towards her with a big scowl, her white kefta willowing behind her like a snowstorm, came to an abrupt stop. “What have you done to this place?”

“I can summon now!” she exclaimed, beaming at her. Genya was the only one who knew of her little,…problem.

The tailor looked around, evidently impressed.

“Remind me to stay on your good side.” She took notice of The Darkling and immediately straightened, bowing slightly. “Forgive me, Moi Soverennyi, but the queen has extended an invitation for the Sun Summoner to have tea with her and her ladies.”

The Darkling nodded once, casually dropping Alina’s hand. By the way Genya’s eyes barely flickered, Alina knew she now suspected something.

“Of course, Miss Safin. Who am I to keep the queen waiting?”

They smirked at each other, and Genya held out her arm for Alina to entwine with. On her way, she quickly snatched the forgotten letter.

Alina didn’t look back to see the damage she had caused, but to see if he was still there, but The Darkling was already marching up to the stables without a second look in her direction.

“Here.” Alina offered the paper to Genya, who gave her an apprehensive look. “It’s the last one; I swear.”

Hesitant, Genya took it and hid it inside one of her many pockets as they continued their path towards the Little Palace.

“You stink, you know?” she said as they entered and began to walk through the corridors that led to the stairs.

Alina was aware. Her face felt hot and wet, and she couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes.

“Does the queen really want to have tea with me?”

“Unfortunately.” Genya sighed as they began their eternal ascension towards Alina’s bedroom. “It’s mostly so she can show you off to her friends as if you were a shiny ornament, and to get some intel for the king. So, be careful of what you say.”

“Will you be there?”

“Fortunately for you, yes. But I’ll be mostly by the bitch’s side.” She gave her friend a sideways look. “Do you know tea etiquette?”

“You… take the cup and drink from it?”

“Saints.”

“What? Why? It’s just tea.”

Genya opened the door and pushed her inside, slamming it shut and shooing her towards the waiting bathtub.

“Maybe she’s also expecting that. She does love to have a laugh at people regarding those things. HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE LATE!” she yelled, clapping her hands and taking out a blue dress from her wardrobe.

Alina did her best with the insufferable little buttons, almost ripping them off and exhaling in relief when it fell to the floor. She took off her boots next and the pleasure was even grander. How she hated to be sweaty.

Soon, she was naked and inside the bath, which smelled of lavender. She scrubbed her legs with the sponge.

“Can I come in?” Genya asked from the other side of the curtain.

“Yep.”

The woman, as usual, wasted no time.

“Did you wash your face already?”

“Yep.”

She knelt by the tub, behind Alina, and began to disentangle her mass of her with hard yanks.

“Hey!”

“Oh, I’m sorry; but if you had been where you were supposed to be we wouldn’t be going against the clock.”

It was true that she was meant to spend some time in the library learning grisha theory, but she had forgotten all about that as soon as her eyes shot open in the morning and decided to become what she was meant to.

“Sorry; I wanted to try something on my own.”

“You weren’t really on your own, were you?” the redhead asked carefully, twisting Alina’s hair from one place to the other.

“General Kirigan found me.” She hesitated for a moment. “He was actually the one who helped me summon.”

“I thought you had done it by yourself.” Her friend sounded confused.

“I did! He just,…gave me some words of encouragement.”

“Words of encouragement?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.”

“What?

“Nothing.”

“What?!”

“Up.” Genya held a towel for Alina to wrap herself in, and quickly took her back into the bedroom and sat her at her dressing table, getting to work on her face.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” She said as she ran her expert fingers over her face, fixing and making her look presentable. “Now, I’ll run you over the etiquette really quick. So, keep up, Starkov.”

“Yes, Miss Safin.”

After a moment of severe silence, they both laughed.

Much to Genya’s apprehension, Alina refused to wear a dress, and insisted on taking a clean, silken kefta instead.

“If she wants me to dress pretty only to make my ignorance funnier, she’ll be disappointed.” Alina said as she took a belt. “The kefta will remind her who I am.”

“I don’t think she’ll care either way.”

“I can accidently blind her as a reminder.”

Genya laughed at that, shaking her head and taking her friend’s arm and leading her towards the Grand Palace.

They took some corridors which avoided the throne room Alina had seen only the first time she had arrived, which, come to think about it, she realized it was the only time she was inside that place at all.

They soon arrived at a grand double set door; the handles made of pure gold. Alina frowned. One could feed all the orphans at Keramzin for a few weeks with that.

Two guards opened the doors for them, and the young women entered, heads high and shoulders back. Alina had refused to relent her hold of Genya. She didn’t care if the queen felt insulted by it.

The woman in question sat upon a ridiculous golden chair, resembling of her own throne. There were two servants in white on either side holding trays. Down the steps of the queen’s chair-because of course she had to be set up on a dais- there was a small, round table almost full.

There were seven or eight women of various ages, all dressed finely and speaking faintly to each other.

When Alina entered, the room became silent. The queen shifted her blue eyes to her and raised an eyebrow, quickly taking in her clothing and her arm around Genya’s.

Letting go of her friend, Alina took a step forward and bent respectfully.

“Moya Tsaritsa. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course, Miss Starkov. I have been waiting for some time with our Sun Summoner for quite some time,” she spoke, her voice forcibly airy, as if she wanted to try and be some sort of ethereal creature. “alas, the general has kept you busy with all kinds of training.”

“He has, Your Highness. But it’s all for the good of Ravka.”

“It is so good to know you care so much about your country, Miss Starkov.” She said the last two words with a special accentuation, as if to belittle her due to her lack of title.

Alina did her best to smile.

“Don’t we all, Your Highness?”

“Of course, dear, of course.” She gestured towards an empty seat at the table, almost directly underneath her, between two middle aged women. “Please, have a seat.”

Alina could feel Genya moving in a different direction behind her as she approached the queen.

She sat down as gracefully as she could and smiled at the women around her.

An older woman clad in green smiled back.

“Tell me, Miss Starkov, how do you find Os Alta so far?”

Before Alina could answer, the queen spoke up:

“Well, that is quite rude of you, Lady Popovich. You have yet to let me introduce yourself.”

Lady Popovich looked down; face flushed as she uttered an apology.

As Genya conducted some male servants towards them, they shared a look.

“Miss Starkov; allow me to introduce you to Lady Tanya Popovich, to her right…” Alina did her best to remember their names, but as the queen introduced each of the ladies, she also launched into a small monologue about each of them. Alina couldn’t help but notice how she liked to talk highly of them, only to put in a small jab in the middle before finishing with some apologetic, merciful tone and moving on to the next one.

The servants placed a small plate filled with water in front of each woman, and the Sun Summoner couldn’t help but notice how all the women at the table and the queen had shifted their eyes towards her.

With a blank expression, Alina dipped her fingers delicately into the water and then used the cloth set to her left to dry them. Standing against a wall, Genya hid a smile as some of the ladies’ disappointment became evident.

The door busted open, and a young woman in pink rushed in. Her cheeks were flushed, her blond hair just a little bit messy.

She curtsied.

“Moya Tsaritsa, my deepest apologies.” She had a nice, gentle voice.

“Lady Anastasia, for a moment I thought you might desert us. It is unseemly to be late.”

“It will not happen again, Your Highness.”

“No. It will not.” She said, curtly, then nodded to the only chair available. “Sit.”

Lady Anastasia hurried towards the table and sat, quickly washing her hands. She looked up, and Alina thought she knew her from somewhere.

Then it hit her. She had run into her just days before in the maze, fooling around with Nadia.

Discreetly, Alina swiped her finger across the corner of her mouth. Lady Anastasia’s eyes grew large for the briefest moment before she wiped her mouth casually. Then, she sent the other woman a minuscule smile.

They all waited in silence as one of the servants handed the queen her cup of tea, and only after she took her first sip did the other servants approach the table.

Alina took in the smell. Was that peaches? She had never had peach tea. She was used to herbs and such, but fresh fruits were too rare in Keramzin and The First Army to use it for tea.

The servants laid out silver platters with sweets of all kinds, most of which she had never seen, and shot a look at Genya, who made an almost imperceptible sign with her hand.

Wait.

Everyone looked up at the queen as she took her first sip and contemplated the cup with fake, dramatic anticipation. Finally, she looked at her audience.

“Please, help yourselves. The tea is delicious, and the pies smell divine.”

Only then did the other women began to eat. Some had more water poured into their cups, but Alina always preferred a strong drink, no matter the taste.

She noticed how all the hands reached out for the pies instead of the biscuits or cookies, just like Genya had warned her. Apparently, the guests would preferably eat whatever the queen felt like it that day, and the rest tended to remain untouched and later thrown away.

“Miss Starkov,” the queen spoke, finishing a small slice of pie and handing the plate to the other servant behind her. Her eyes were slightly narrowed. “how have you been adjusting to life at the Little Palace? I imagine it must be quite the difference compared to an army camp.”

“Or an orphanage.” Snickered a woman across the table to Lady Anastasia, who frowned but then smiled slightly, not saying anything.

“I’m still settling, Your Highness.” Alina sat straight and looked her in the eyes to address her. “It’s quite the big change of scenario, but so far I’ve been adapting well enough.”

“I heard that you had a small incident with one of the Squallers about a month ago.” She said, with fake innocence. “What was her name, Genya?”

“Zoya Nazyalensky, Your Highness.”

“Oh, yes, I remember her from the last Winter Fete. So talented, so beautiful.” She said, looking pointedly at Alina at the last part.

She resisted the urge to tell her she wasn’t the one with a Tailor working on her stupid face day and night.

“Yes, Zoya and I were training with Botkin.” Alina admitted, wanting to smile at the memory of Zoya coming out of The Darkling’s chambers in tears. “It was hand to hand combat; she’s got far more experience than me, and I got hurt; but it was nothing.”

“I was sure I heard she had used her power on you.” The queen placed her fingers underneath her chin. “I believed that to be prohibited during combat training.”

Alina didn’t know what to say; she wasn’t sure what the woman sitting to her left and above her wanted to get at.

“It was an accident on her part. Sometimes, our powers just,” she flickered her fingers, a steam of light rolling over them and disappearing, startling the other guests. “come out on their own.”

She wanted to turn back so she could see Genya’s face, to know if she had given the right answer or not; but breaking eye contact while talking to the queen of Ravka was considered rude.

“And yet your general saw it fit to send her away.” She said, pretending to be confused.

Alina kept on hesitating. Something told her that, not matter how much she disliked Zoya, this was not the right time and place to give an honest opinion.

“She’s part of The Second Army, Your Highness. A lot of us are always being re-assigned somewhere or called back.”

“But you have not.”

“I—I’ve only been training for a few months. Zoya’s had years.”

“Besides,” a soft voice spoke up, and everyone turned to Lady Anastasia. “there is only one Sun Summoner; sending her out without sufficient training would put all of Ravka at risk, would it not?”

“Indeed, Lady Anastasia.” The queen had to concede. “You are very smart, are you not?”

Lady Anastasia bowed her head humbly.

“I simply enjoy all kind of knowledge, Your Highness.”

“So well educated, so modest and pretty, such an extraordinary lineage.” At this, queen Tatiana turned back to Alina. “The House Gusev extends back to the days before The Fold was formed; they even had a few monarchs on the throne.”

“A long time ago, yes.” Replied the blonde, hurriedly.

“And yet,” the queen squinted her eyes, and Alina already felt sorry for the young woman. “you remain unmarried. It is such an odd situation for you, dear. The years do go by,” she touched her face and smiled. “well, for some of us at least.” She laughed airily, and Alina really, really wanted to tell her that she couldn’t pull that off. She sounded ridiculous. “So, I assume you must have at least one prospect. What could possibly be wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong, Your Highness.” She replied, her cheeks red. From the distance, Alina thought she saw her eyes glistening with tears. “My father is very strict. He will not let just anyone wed his youngest daughter. And to be quite honest, I do not believe he wants to give away his youngest one yet. Seeing Zasha wed Galina and move out of our home was hard for him.” She finished with affection, earning several soft smiles.

As far as Alina knew, it was rare to see same sex marriages in the nobility, and it required a long process which involved plenty of paperwork. Regarding the royal family, it was prohibited.

The queen leaned back on her chair and stretched out her right hand. A small plate with the cup of tea was set upon it, and she took her time with the second, small sip.

“Well, I imagine you must be eager to start your new life. Marriage is such a bliss. I shall talk to your father about it soon.”

Lady Anastasia opened her mouth, but the queen was faster.

“Lady Yelena, would you please grace us with another one of your arias? You have the voice of an angel, my dear.” The woman sitting on her left stood up. "A moment. Genya, please take care of that ugly mole above her lip; it is most distracting."

Well, it seemed as if Alina were safe now, at the cost of that poor woman.

She didn’t dare to look at Genya for the rest of the event, for she could feel the queen’s eyes on her, analysing her every move.

Each lady bowed to the queen, uttering a respectful "Moya Tsaritsa", and the summoner did the same, aching to get out of that place.

The sun was setting when the queen finally decided she had had enough company for the afternoon. Alina was more than relieved to stand up; her butt hurt, her legs protested and her back cried.

"I should escort miss Starkov back to the Little Palace, Your Highness." Genya stepped forward.

"I am sure she can find her way back on her own." Interrupted a new voice.

Everyone turned to face the king and bowed, giving the expected greeting. His sleazy eyes drifted to the redhead, who stood stiff with both hands clasped behind her back. Alina looked at the queen, who didn't seem too happy either.

"If I may, Your Highness?" Alina took a step forward, not even knowing what she was gonna say. She felt sweatier than she did earlier in the gardens. "General Kirigan insisted that Miss Safin remain with me for this night. My training today was most …aggravating, and he saw it fit that someone helps me recover."

"Aggravating?" he asked, seemingly suspicious.

"In a good sense, Your Highness. I've shown quite the improvement today, but I'm afraid it's taken it's toll on me." Alina wasn't sure where all that came from, but she had a feeling The Darkling just might be a tad amused by her, and that only made her want to smile and reveal her charade.

"You do look plainer than usual."

You're one to talk.

She smiled humbly, and the king grunted.

"Very well, then. If General Kirigan insists."

"He does, …Moi Tsar."

How she hoped the king didn't bring the subject up with The Darkling.

"You are both dismissed then, but Miss Safin will return to her duties at dawn."

Both women bowed and left the room.

Alina casually held on to Genya's elbow as they hurried out of the Grand Palace, looking around at all the ugly paintings of Lantsov ancestors.

Once outside, the chilly air hit them both, but Genya continued to pull her along across the dark.

"You didn't have to do that." she said quietly.

Alina shrugged.

"It's nothing, really." she swallowed, giving her closest friend a sideways glance. "I've, uh, heard some rumours about the king and-"

"The queen usually keeps me too busy during the day, so his attention won't drift during the night." said the redhead, as if talking about the weather. "But sometimes it's inevitable." She looked at Alina, both now at the entrance to the Little Palace, illuminated by lanterns. "Thank you." she said, softly, looking into Alina's dark eyes with sincere, deep gratitude.

"It's nothing, really." the brunette felt uncomfortable. On the one side, she wanted to jump at the king and claw her way into his heart and rip it out for doing what he did; on the other, she knew there was nothing to do to help her friend. "It's just one night."

Genya sighed and drew her into a hug.

"One single night free can be a marvellous gift."

Alina smiled, returning the embrace.

"So, …I'm guessing we're having a sleepover? I never had one back at Keramzin! All the other girls were older than me and wouldn't let me join in!" she tried to cheer the mood.

Genya parted, quickly wiping her eyes.

"Neither have I, and I would love that." she turned serious again. "But first, we need to talk."

A/N: Hope you liked it!

Click here for part III

#shadow and bone #alina starkov #the darkling #aleksander morozova #alina x darkling #alina x aleksander #genya safin #my love is your time to shine #fuck the queen shes a bitch #lets kill the king #fanfic #shadow & bone trilogy #shadow and bone fanfic

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shintorikhazumi · 3 years

Text

I Hate You.

A/N: I guess this is thanks for the warm welcome to your server? Akko-centric angst? @blee-bleep I saw one of your posts, haha.

Wait… doesn’t Akko get bullied in canon?

Also, to everyone else in the server who sees this, I don’t quite know your preferences for a fic, but hmu some time haha

Sorry for feeding you some subpar writing owo

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

[I hate you.]

You mentally say to the girl in the mirror. Her hair is tussled, deep brown stained with the same bitter red on her fresh white shirt.

[I hate you.]

You tell the short teen, bags under her eyes, maybe from the lack of sleep. She looks pale, ugly. So ugly.

[I hate you.]

She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days, even though she binged full tubs of ice-cream, and stuffed a few cakes in barely three hours ago. All of them had gone to waste anyway. Trash bins, toilets, sometimes the woods. Perfect for throwing away stuff you don’t need. Or well… throwing up stuff you don’t need. In your body.

[I hate you.]

Through the reflective material allows her glimpses of stacks of papers marred red with E’s and F’s, and some barely passing grades, and that single A from language class.

At least professor Pisces seemed to appreciate her, that girl. Someone had to. Because you hated the girl in the mirror.

What a fool, what an idiot. How stupid, how dumb.

[I hate you.]

Her and her slow mind, incapable of comprehending the simplest things, disabled from casting the most basic magic-

Oh, but that isn’t her fault, now is it?

It was hers. Chariot du nord. The person she so idolizes, the witch who gave her her dream- and subsequently crushed it to dust.

The mentor she admires.

The mother she needed within the academy.

The one who betrayed her the most.

[I hate you.]

Hate the one who trusts blindly, the one who trusts in all the wrong things.

Hands reach up to a slim neck, almost hesitant to touch it. They wrap themselves around it. It’s cold, but there’s a pulse. It’s cold, yet she feels drenched in sweat. It’s cold… like her gaze.

She just needs to squeeze-

“Akko? We’re back and- what… happened to your arm?”

Lotte. You love her. You love her a lot. She’s sweet, smells like butterscotch and honey-lemon tea. She’s holding a plastic bag, school supplies? Yes. Looks like it.

“I was cutting open a package from home. The cutter slipped.” Lotte looks like she wants to believe you. But she doesn’t.

“Right, of course.”

“I’m telling the truth, Lotte. Look.” You point to the half-opened box on the floor that’s surprisingly actually there. Maybe you weren’t lying after all.

“I see, okay. I believe you Akko.”

You hate the fact that she may think you’re a liar. You love her, but you hate that.

Sucy walks into the room right after Lotte does. She says nothing other than the usual dull greeting, handing you a random mushroom.

Strange.

But that’s normal. Strange is normal for Sucy.

And you love that about her.

She doesn’t pry, she doesn’t act out of line, she only does what she’s supposed to… alongside other things.

But she never pushes it with you.

And you love that. You love the freedom and the space she gives you. The lack of interrogation.

Lotte bandages you up soon after, the antiseptic is supposed to sting, but… it doesn’t. Maybe it’s the many times you’ve been through this. You’ve grown numb. Immune to little stings. They’re nothing but ant bites.

They’re nothing compared to…

Lotte’s hand on your cheek pulls you out of your thoughts. She’s smiling kindly, no questions, no interrogations- well maybe one question.

“Are you hungry? Let’s grab some dinner.”

You nod. You tell her you’ll just get changed, and she and Sucy reluctantly leave you to your devices.

You say reluctantly because Lotte won’t stop throwing glances at you on her way out.

Sheesh. You’ll be fine.

You say that as you change out of your bloodied clothes.

You head to the wardrobe, you open it and find the mess that you call your… well, clothes. You need to do a bit of digging to find the perfect wear. Something thick, something dark, something long.

A long black hoody sounds perfect.

You wear it over matching joggers and face the mirror once more. You feel bile climb up your throat at the site of her. You hate her.

[I hate you.]

Her and her messy ass.

Her and her disgruntled look, and unkempt hair.

[I hate you.]

Red eyes. Bloody. So bloody. Bloodshot? Her eyes look like they would murder someone. That’s not very nice. You hate that. You hate her.

She’s not very nice.

There’s a breeze that wafts into your room. It’s chilly. It tells you that the window is open.

Ah.

The curtain is fluttering, it’s outstretching its hand, inviting you in.

Come now.

It’s alluring, white as snow.

The sun is gone, it’s left you like everyone else. You’re not likeable enough to have someone stay by your side.

You look back to the mirror. You see her, she looks lifeless, emotionless.

But wait- there’s… there’s fear in her eyes.

She’s afraid. You hate that. You hate her. She doesn’t deserve to feel fear, to have it reflected in her soul.

Ah.

You punched her. You didn’t mean to, but you did. But she fights back, it seems. Your hands… they’re… bleeding hands. There are cracked fragments of glass at your feet, and shards in your knuckles.

She’s evil.

She’s very much evil and you hate her.

She hurts you.

She hurts you all the time and you hate her because she hurts you so.

But she’s gone now.

You’ve punched her.

You no longer see her.

Her ugly face.

Her pale demeanor.

Her dying pallor.

Her idiotic expressions.

Nothing.

That makes you happy.

You can go to dinner now, yes.

Which… which way was it?

Oh, the curtain tells you it’s this way.

Here. Come here.

It’s cool, it’s fresh… it’s…

That’s deep.

The ground is far. Quite far.

It’s perfect.

You stand on the ledge.

It’s hard, stable.

Great.

You think of her one last time.

You hated her, but she deserves some parting words.

Maybe then her spirit wouldn’t be bound should she be dead as of now.

“I hate you.” You whisper once to the wind.

The wind carries it back.

That’s right.

“I hate you.”

The moon smiles.

You smile back.

I hate you.

I hate you just like everyone else does. The girls who threw away your drinking water after PE, the ones who put tacks in your shoes. The ones who hid your books and got you in trouble with Finneran.

Yes. Just like them all…

You thought it would get better for her.

But you were wrong.

You believed.

And you were stabbed, face-front, in the heart.

So stupid.

It never gets better.

Not for her. Not for you.

“I hate you. You idiot… You utterly, completely, MORONIC idiot.”

…

“I hate you... you and your stupid. STUPID. Believing heart.”

And you finally take that first step-

The door bursts wide open, slamming against the very wall it is attached to.

Ahhh… look at that beauty.

Fair-snow skin, gorgeous curled locks. Even through puffs of cold, cold air, you see cherry pink lips. They look so warm. Warm like her eyes, their feelings a stark contrast to that blue hue. Justice is there, kindness is there. Loyalty, bravery, beauty, talent… she has everything.

She has everything you love.

She is everything you love.

Ah that thought… you love that.

You love her.

So much.

So damn much.

“Diana…” You finally croak out.

“I hate me.”

She cries. You hate her tears. You hate yourself even more. You want to take your other foot and step out the next step, but…

“And yet, I Love You… Akko.”

A/N: Was that okay? I mean, no. Akko is not okay. Not okay. Hahaha. Yet.

Reactions are welcome.

~Shintori Khazumi

#fanfic #lwa #akko-centric #atsuko kagari #kagari akko #Little Witch Academia #dianakko #i guess #at the end #angst #angsssttt

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strongsassysexysloane · 3 years

Text

A Home

Sum:- Morning thoughts and conclusions. When you wake up to an empty bed but a full heart.

. . . .

The smell of your favourite drink wafts into the room as your eyes flicker open to the morning rays filtering around the curtains. The light hadn't reached the bed yet so you knew it was early, the smell pulling you from your slumber. It wasn't a work day for you which was why the space next to you was empty and cold, rather than warm and smiling.

The sight of her in the mornings was the most wonderful thing to wake up to, it really didn't take much to put a smile on your face. All you needed was her. The thought of her must've pulled her into the room because the door opened silently as she tiptoed in with a steaming cup of brew.

"Morning." You beamed, sliding your hands behind your head to look up at her. She was semi dressed, her hair and make up done with her work shirt unbuttoned and her pajama shorts still resting on her hips.

She walked over to you, placing the cup on the bedside table and leaning down to give you a good morning kiss. "Morning." She murmured against your lips.

You wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her down, making her laugh and revelling in the sound. She collapsed on top of you, her face pressing into your neck as she tried to stable herself with her hands either side of you.

"Ah!" She laughed, "Don't ruin my hair!"

You pressed your face into her cheek. "Thought you'd be more concerned about your make up."

"That too!" She pushed up against your hold around her neck. "If I have to do it all again, I'm going to be running late!" She huffed but you knew she wasn't that upset by the kiss she gave you, soft and sure.

You watched as she climbed off you once you released her and walked into the ensuite. The smell from your morning cup surrounded you, bringing you back to why she had come in in the first place. It was perfect, something so simple and small but it filled your heart. Like the way her smile instantly made your day better, her laugh made your heart smile and the roll of her eyes made you laugh.

"It's rude to stare."

"Not staring." You smirked as you sipped, her brow rising in question. "I'm admiring." You purposefully and slowly raked your eyes down her body as she did up her buttons. She tapped her bottom when your eyes reached their destination only causing you to admire it longer.

"Enjoying your cup?"

You nodded as she walked back out and into the walk-in wardrobe. She'd basically taken up 3/4 of it when she moved in a month ago. You didn't mind, it was more of her. You didn't need much space and to be surrounded by her things just made you feel more at home.

That and you stole most of her tops and sweaters anyway.

It was surreal how simple and easy life was with her. Growing up you thought you needed a big house and all the things to be a home but really it was all to do with who was in it and not the objects it was filled with. You doubted for a while that you'd ever find the person, the one to call your home but when you least expected it she blew in the a wild storm and settled your heart.

You didn't need the big gestures, the Valentine's Day's or the jewelry, all you needed was her smile and her touch. The house could be filled with all the best things and it would still be a house without her there. She was your calm, your storm, your home.

. . . .

A/N:- This wasn't necessarily a Jack Sloane/Reader ficlet. Sure you could think it as one but I wanted to be more open. Something different.

#wlw writing #wlw post #fem!reader #jack sloane x reader #wlw story #writing #emotional writing

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parttime-creative · 3 years

Text

Nothing but trouble

Prompt: How did you get in here? WC: 1605

This had been a horrible idea. Why did she agree to this? All she wanted to do was train! After all, she was responsible for preparing Tehokura’a for the world out there! She should have been persistent. SHE was the teacher and HE was the apprentice! Why did she give into his whining?

… Because this boy had the ability to look like the saddest little puppy, that’s why.

By the gods, why did Xianestra had to put this stupid idea in his head, that he too should compete in a hunt? Of course, dragon riders had to be good in reading tracks as well, but hide and seek? For real? They were no children anymore! Even the twelve year old Tehokura’a had to train in a serious manner! His mind was young and gullible, how dare this querisari to abuse that?

It was all her fault! Thearis was stuck and this savage didn’t even know what she had done. Ever since she arrived in Nayanai she had brought nothing but trouble! Wretched barbarian! Damned querisari!

Once again Thearis jerked at the hemline of her robe, which had cought itself in some loose boards of the closet she was hiding in. She didn’t want to damage the expensive fabric, but in the dimly lit space she couldn't see any other way of freeing herself. She continued to quietly curse. Not only was she stuck, but in the hurry to quickly find a good hiding spot she also somehow managed to jam the closet door shut. She literally was trapped in here.

Thearis of Nayanai had no other choice. Slowly she started to loosen the laces of her robe. She would have to leave it here and look for another way out of this godsforsaken wardrobe. If only it wouldn’t have been so ungodly hot in here. Why in Vadurs right mind, did she run into the gosh darn dragon stable? And which Iros-god had put the stupid idea into her head to hide in a wardrobe that belonged to the hot spring bathroom?

Could she have chosen a worse place to hide? Sweat ran down her neck, as if she had trained for hours with her spear. Well, as she was already about to take off her clothes, she might as well also ditch the layer beneath the robe as well. Why was this wardrobe so damn tiny?

The creaking of wood made her pause. Through the narrow slit of the closet door she made out a figure that just entered the bathroom. Thank Tisara, she was saved! Someone could finally free her from her wooden prison! She was just about to call out to the newcomer, when the lamp light reflected off of twisted green horns. The figure opened her high ponytail and midnight black hair fell down a muscly back. The gods must truly hate her.

“Steaming dragon dung…”, she muttered frustrated and immediately covered her mouth. Shit! Hopefully Xianestra didn’t hear that! No, no, no, NO! Why her? Why couldn’t it have been literally ANYONE else? She wouldn’t even have minded if one of the stable boys would have sneaked in here! Why did it have to be that freaking querisari! What barbarian cared so much about hygiene and bathed so often, like this accursed querisari did?!

While Thearis was still angrily cursing her unfortunate fate the wooden floor creaked again. The sound was closer than before. Very carefully she peek through the slit again. But it was dark. She couldn’t make out anything. Was the querisari gone? Did she turn off the lights? But before she could even think about an answer the closet door slowly opened.

“Thearis?”

She heard her name in the querisaris raspy voice. She swallowed hard and didn’t look up. “... No?”, she whispered and cursed the more than obvious embarrassment in her voice. Xianestra chuckled and Thearis hated her for it. Spite grew in her stomach and soon overpowered her embarrassment. She looked up and … immediately regretted her decision.

Gods have mercy. How could a battle worn body still have so silky looking skin? Even the countless scars seemed more like intricate decorations than horrible disfigurations. This wasn’t fair! Arae, please, split the ground and let me vanish forever! “What are you doing?”

Thearis could hear the amusement in her voice and the floor still was as closed as ever.

“B-Bathing…?”, she stammered and hated the high pitch her voice chose without her approval. She wanted to slap herself. Even that querisari would be able to see that bathing was not what she was doing here. She could feel how Xiadias green eyes danced over her body. Thea felt like these eyes could look right through her. A shiver ran down her spine, as always when the querisari looked at her the way she did. She always did. She always looked at Thearis and Thearis could never make out what she was thinking. Oh, how she hated that!

“Bathing?”, repeated Xiadia slowly. Thearis fought hard to finally pry away her eyes from Xiadias copious bosom, which unfortunately was, due to her hight, exactly on Theas eye level. How did that woman manage to bind all this tightly enough to fight the way she did? The dragon rider never noticed before, but without her pelt and huge swords, Xiadia looked so much more … feminine. Thearis gulped and finally managed to lift her head. Only to look directly into the amused querisaris face.

“Bathing”, she repeated in a (finally) serious voice and nodded to get the point across. Xiadia just lifted one eyebrow. For a while the two just looked at each other intensely. At least, Thearis was looking intensely. She had nowhere else to look and definitely won’t lose this fight! No! Definitely not! In the end Xiadia was the one to end the eye contact. Just to, once more, let her gaze slowly wander. Thearis had to concentrate very much, to not let the shiver that ran down her spine be noticable.

“And… How did you get in here, exactly? I don’t know much about your human traditions, but to bathe in a wardrobe, half dressed at that, seems to be…. uncommon, even for your kind.”

Physically, Thearis had to suppress an eyeroll. Mentally she gave herself the face palm of the century. Once again, she had underestimated this damn querisari. Hastily she scooped up her clothes from the wardrobe floor and pressed them against her chest. She only now realised, that she too, was only covered with her own bindings.

Of course! While training she didn’t wear all the layers of her clothing! Nayanais weather was way too warm for that! She cleared her throat and prayed to all the gods, her face didn’t actually show the heat she felt in her cheeks. She couldn’t stand the embarrassment of blushing. She HAD TO keep this small amount of dignity she still had left after being discovered half naked in a jammed wardrobe. Gods, she must have looked like a perverted voyeur.

“I-I-It’s not w-what it looks like!” Great Thearis. This is the perfect thing to say, to do the exact opposite of convincing someone you didn’t do, what they thought you did!

Xiadia chuckled and stepped closer.

Shit, shit, shit, stay away! Don't come closer! Theas cheeks were burning up.

“You know, Thearis, if you wanted to watch, you could have just said so…”

The purr in Xiadias voice made Thearis’ knees tremble. She didn’t even worry about blushing anymore. There was no point in it. Ashamed she lowered her eyes and once again wished for the earth goddess to open the ground beneath her feet and make this situation end. Once again the softest laugh of amusement rang in her ears. A slender finger caressed her cheek and Thearis froze.

“You humans are so uptight…”

Thearis felt Xiadias breath at her ear and her own began to tremble. The querisari was so close. For the first time Thearis was able to distinguish what she smelled like. Sweat and leather. Of course. She probably just finished training herself.

But there was something else as well. She smelled like forest. Damp moss, fresh rain and bonfires.

Before she could stop herself, Thearis inhaled that smell deeply. A quiet sigh escaped her lips and she suddenly was painfully aware of how close Xiadias face actually was in front of her. Her deep green eyes captured her own. The expression on her face could not be described in any other way than contemplating. A picture creeped into Thearis’ mind. How she stood there, pressed against a wall, Xiadias face buried in the crook of her neck and her lips exactly on the spot her breath tickled right now. Those firm hands, that could be so ridiculously gentle, roaming over her body, her own hands deeply hidden in this dark midnight mane. But as quick as the image appeared, it was gone again as Xiadia suddenly took a step back.

She threw her hair over her shoulder and shrugged.

“Well, I won’t keep you from bathing then, Thearis. Sorry for the… disturbance. See you later.”

With that she waved her hand, and before Thearis could even react she was gone. The only thing Theas mind could really comprehend was the warriors swinging hips as she went for the door. All that was left for Thearis was her racing heart, the memory of a forbidden fantasy and her shaking knees, that finally gave in and let her slide to the ground.

That damn querisari brought nothing but trouble.

#Poor Thearis #doesn't realise how gay she is for this querisari warrior #To be fair #Xiadia killer her master #and tried to kill her dragon as well #but hey #she now swore to protect your life with her own!#No problem in enjoying that oath to the fullest #Fiona sure does...#buuut... thats another story #GAL #Theadia #Thearis #Xiadia #My writing #Also thanks Fabi for the prompt #I finally managed to translate it into englisch #yay #even tho probably noone is gonna read it anyways

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unloved-cadillac · 3 years

Text

Crown Jewels. Part Two.

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌: 3.8𝗄

“I can’t just leave here, Levi.” Y/n says while holding his hand, taking it away from her face. “Yes! Yes you can!” The duo turns to the jumpy voice which belonged to Nanaba. “I mean, Didi I will take care of the shop. You deserve a break.” Nanaba says as she puts her hands behind her back. Y/n laughs and Levi smiles a bit. She faces Levi and crosses her arms. “I don't where you’re going to take me, but if this “serendipity” is as good as I think it is, I might consider saying yes.” She says and Levi raises his eyebrow. “ “Consider”?”

He asks and she nods. “I don’t know you, Levi. Regardless of you being a prince, I’m not going to just run off with a complete stranger!” She exclaims. “Understandable. So, let’s get to know each other.” Levi grins and holds his hand out, palm facing upwards. Y/n glances between his hand and face. She doesn’t answer and Levi rests his elbow on the counter.

“Trust me when I say that I’m not leaving here until you agree.” Levi tells her and she scoffs. “You really are something, you know that? Tell me why so many girls are swooning over you again?” She teases and he puts on a thinking face. “Probably the same reason why we almost kissed just now.” He remarks and she gasps, putting her hand over his mouth. “Shh. What if my father heard you?” She asks, panicking. Her body was close to his now. If he wanted, he would wrap an arm around her waist and bring her closer but instead he just smiles underneath her hand and lays a gentle kiss on her palm.

She gasps softly and pulls away, only for Levi to take her Punjabi shawl from her neck. It was a lovely shade of red and he wrapped it around his hand. “Hey!” She pours as he pulls his hand away from her grasp and she glares at him. It was almost as good as his. “You’re very weird, Y/n.” Levi tells her and her mouth gapes like a fish. “What??” She asks, offended and he chuckles lowly. “I don’t know what it is about you. Making a prince’s heart beat like this.” He says and takes her hand and places it over his heart. “I barely know you and you did this. Now imagine if I knew you, inside and out. What could you do to me then?” The way he said it like it was the most unromantic thing in the world. But his eyes. Those steel blue eyes held every single word in them and Y/n was mesmerized by them. She was at a loss for words. Who would’ve thought that Para’s most wanted bachelor was such a sweet talker.

“L-Levi.” She stutters and he shakes his head. “You don’t need to say anything. I’ll be back. Keep this for me.” He takes off a bracelet and ties it around her wrist. It was a gold snake with blue jewels that shimmered with every movement. It looked freakin expensive. And Y/n panicked.

“No, Levi. This looks way too important for a mere villager to take.” Y/n tells him and he clicks his tongue. “You’re not just a villager. Not to me at least. Bye, Y/n. Take care of that for me.”

Levi whispers and leaves the shop, leaving Y/n shocked at what just happened.

“I think he likes you.” Nanaba says and stands next to her sister. “I...I…” Y/n stutters, clearly dumbfounded at this prince. All Nanaba does is laugh loudly and Y/n slaps the back of her head. “Shut up.”

~~~~

Levi smirks as he rides back to the palace. The bright red shawl flew in the wind but he held tighter than he had ever held anything before. It had her smell. Her unique scent of mixtures of tea. Erwin welcomed Levi into the stables and he jumped off his horse. “Levi. How was your trip to the town?” Erwin asks while Levi petted his horse's mane. “Fine.” He answers and Erwin smiles as he looks at the bright red in the prince’s hand. Erwin knew better than to ask. It’s not like he didn’t know already. That girl in the shop they had visited caught Levi’s attention which, to Erwin, was quite a shocker. No girl had been able to do so.

The girls that had been interested in Levi were princesses from neighboring countries. All were just after his name and wealth. But Y/n. Erwin knew that she wasn’t interested in all of that. If she was, she would have spoken in a much flirtier manner with Farlan and Levi than just ask what they wanted.

“Is the palace preparing for Holi?” Levi asks and Erwin nods. “Yes. Your mother is making it extra special for Raja and the welcoming of Isabel.” Erwin says and Levi looks around. “Are we inviting people this year?” Levi questions. “I’m not too sure, your majesty. I highly doubt so.” Erwin replies. Levi thinks for a while and finally comes to a conclusion.

“Thank you. Tell me when dinner is ready. I’ll be in my room.” Levi tells Erwin and Erwin bows. Levi walks through the palace and into his chambers and goes straight to his wardrobe. Never did he think that he would celebrate Holi like this.

~~~~

“Y/n! Come quickly! The powders are selling fast!” Y/n’s dad calls for her as he sells each bag of color powder.

Holi was finally here. The village was beaming with colors and many people were laughing and enjoying this special day. Y/n hadn’t seen Levi for days. It made her shake her head at her expectations. Why would he keep his word? Not like she was anyone to him regardless of him saying otherwise. A prince wouldn’t waste their time on a mere pauper.

“Yes! Coming!” She answers and walks to her father. He looked at her twice and smiled at what she was wearing.

A white Punjabi. But not any Punjabi. It was her mother’s. “How do I look, papa?” She asks and tears pricked his eyes and he kisses her forehead. “Just like her. Now hurry and sell these so you can go celebrate.” He tells her and they both work. Nanaba comes down and also helps when she looks out and sees the colors being thrown. “Didi. It’s starting. Let’s go!” She says and Y/n looks at her dad. “Go. There’s a little left here. I’ll handle it. Be careful.” He kisses both of his daughters goodbye and they hug him back.

“HOLI HAI!!”

The crowd chants and everyone is having a blast. Levi walked down the stairs where many people walked in and out preparing. He looked at the entrance and saw Farlan walking in with Isabel on his arm. “Farlie. I’m so scared. What if they don’t like me?” She whispers to Farlan who punches her cheek then kisses it. ��Stop it, Bel. They already love you. And look. There’s Levi.” He points to his brother and Levi walks down to them and hugs Isabel. “Welcome to the family, Isabel.” He says and Isabel looks at Levi. “You knew too?! How did everyone know except for me?” She asks, making them laugh. “Farlan?” A kind voice rings through the place and Farlan looks up to see his mother and father walk down the stairs. “Ma. Papa.” He greets and touches their feet. “We’re glad you made it home safe.” The king says and looks at the girl who stood nervously. “Is this..?” He asks and Farlan nods while looking at her. “Ma. Papa. This is Isabel. My soon to be wife.” Farlan says and holds out his hand for Isabel, telling her to come.

She walks slowly to Farlan and takes his hand. “Greetings, Raja. Greetings, Rani.” Isabel says and touches their feet, but Kuchel and the king both stop her. “Welcome to the family, Isabel. Come. Let us celebrate Holi together.” The king says and Isabel smiles widely. “Is there laddu?” She asks abruptly and quickly covers her mouth. Kuchel only laughs and takes her hands. “I made extra just for you. Farlan told me how much you love sweetmeats. Come.” She takes Isabel and wraps her arms around the girls shoulders. “Levi? You coming?” Farlan asks and Levi shakes his head. “I have Holi to celebrate somewhere else.” He says and bids farewell to Farlan. He smirks to himself and goes to join Isabel. “Where’s Levi, Farlan?” Kuchel asks and he shrugs sitting down. “I don't know. You know how he is.”

Y/n looked around and saw how everyone threw colors and water. She avoided getting caught multiple times, mostly because her mind was preoccupied with the thought of a certain man. She walked with Nanaba as she twirls the bracelet on her wrist. “Come on, Didi. Stop being so glum.” Nanaba elbows Y/n’s side and she winced. “I’m not glum, Nana. Just annoyed.” Y/n replies and looks ahead. “Well stop being annoyed because,” Nanaba takes some green powder and throws it on her sister, “IT’S HOLI!” She shouts and Y/n gasps. “You little-!” She yells and runs after Nanaba. The powder of every single color was thrown in the air and Y/n chuckled to herself.

Y/n walked down stairs and when she reached the bottom, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Levi stood there with a pure white shirt and black pants. He was clean, meaning not an ounce of color went on him. Y/n breathed heavily as she tried to catch her breath and look composed at the same time.

“You.”

Y/n said and Levi leaned against the wall and looked at her. “What about me?” Levi asks and Y/n scoffs and looks away. “I didn’t think you’d come back.” She says and glances at him. He frowns and pushes off the wall and walks to her. “I did say that I will be back. Didn't i?” He says and she looks back at him. “I didn’t know you would keep your word.” Y/n spits out, clearly annoyed. Levi begins to walk around her, eyeing her up and down.

“I am a man of my word, Y/n. When I say something, I mean it. When I say I’ll do something, I do it.” Levi commented, making Y/n roll her eyes. “Oh whatever, Levi. Why are you here anyway? Doesn’t the palace have this big celebration for Holi every year?” Y/n asked when Levi stopped in front of her. “Yes. They do. But I don’t. My parents are into all of that. But I wanted to celebrate with you.” He charms and Y/n turns her head away, avoiding his sparkling eyes. “Why?” Levi quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Levi,” she begins, “I’m not anyone someone like you would be interested in. I’m poor. I support my family for as long as I can and however I can where you..” she drifts off and he urges her to carry on. “Where I..am a royal who has everything done for them, correct?” He completes her question and subtly nods. “Tch.” Levi scoffs and Y/n sighs. “Yeah. Thought so.” She concludes and begins to walk away.

Suddenly, her hand is caught by his and he pulls her into him, their chests touching. She looks at Levi and he smirks. Lifting his hand, he wipes the red colored powder on her cheek and across her lips. “Don’t think of my interest in you as some charity event. You’re the only woman who made me act like this. I don’t care about the differences in our lives. Prince or not, I still would’ve been here with you.” He whispers against her cheek. Y/n closed her eyes as his hands made their way to her hair, untangling it and opening it.

When she opened her eyes, Levi kissed her forehead and her nose. They stayed like that until Y/n smiled and threw her green powder on him. He stepped back and smirked. “ITS STILL HOLI, LEVI!” She shouts as she runs away from him, laughing. “Brat.” He mumbles and grabs colors on his way to her. Y/n runs through the crowd, looking back to see Levi catching up to her. She dodged people and walked through alleyways but Levi followed her. Almost no one recognized him, since he wasn’t in his normal attire. He didn’t want the unwanted attention. He only wanted Y/n’s.

“Get back here!” Levi shouts to her and she laughs. “No! You’re going to have to catch me, Rajkumar!!” She teases and throws more color on him. “Shit.” He chuckles and he reaches out and grabs her shawl. Y/n still continues to run, through buildings and in between stalls. He almost lost her but he saw her h/c flow and he ran to her.

He chased her all the way out of the village to a nearby river where Y/n was catching her breath. Levi quietly moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and twirled her around. “Caught you.” He whispers in her ear and she giggles. “Yeah, yeah. You won.” She mutters and he sets her down. Y/n quickly threw a few more colors on him and Levi stood there, letting her do what she wanted. “You done?” He asks and she shakes his head. In her little pouch on her hip, she took out red and wiped it on his face and down his neck. “Now I am.” She finishes and smiles at him.

Y/n looks around and sees the river. She leans down and begins to wash her hands and Levi sits next to her. Y/n looked at him while Levi looked up at the sky, exposing his bare throat. Biting her lip, she cups some water in her hands and pours it down his shirts. “Ah. Damn, Y/n.” He shivers and looks at Y/n who was laughing. “You didn't even react! What are you?!” She giggles out and he rolls his eyes. “I’m not one that feels anything. I don’t know if it’s an Ackerman thing but pain and stuff doesn’t bother me.” He says as his shirt begins to dampen. Nodding, Y/n spills more on his shirt and he glares at her. “You’re going to regret it if you continue, brat.” He threatens and Y/n smiles as she continues. “Try me, royal.” She teases and he wakes up and throws water on her.

The water fight escalated and Y/n slipped on mud and almost fell into the river but was quickly caught and pulled into Levi, who fell on the ground with her on top. “Well this seems familiar.” He says as he rests his hand on her waist and one behind his head. She laughs and slaps his chest. “You’re such an idiot.” Y/n remarks and Levi hums.

A slight breeze flows and Y/n shivers as her eyes begin to close. “Cold?” He asks and she nods. “Just a little. Levi,” she walks up from his chest and looks at him, “it’s getting late. We should go. And it looks like it’s about to rain.” She continues and looks up at the sky. Grey clouds formed, a big difference from the bright blue sky from earlier. “So?” He asks and she tilts her head. “Levi. Your family must be worried about you.” She sighs and walks up. But Levi had her shawl wrapped around her waist and he pulled her back into him, making her squeal. “You’re beautiful.” Levi suddenly says and she feels her face burn up. “If you continue saying those things, people might think we’re together.” Y/n warns and Levi scoffs. “Let them. At least something would be true.” He replies and Y/cups his cheek. “You really are something, Levi.” She leans down and kisses his red-stained cheek.

Thunder sounded and Y/n flinched and hid in Levi’s chest. He chuckles softly and holds her tightly. “Be mine, Y/n.” It sounded more like a statement than a question and Y/n tore away from his grasp and sat up, facing the river. He frowned but woke up and sat next to her. “I, don’t know, Levi. Do you know how complicated our lives will be? Your life will be? We live on two different ends of society and I can only imagine what your family will say about me.” She exhales and holds her head in her hands. Levi didn’t want to say anything. He just let her say whatever she had been holding in her heart for what seemed like years.

“It scares me.” She whispers and sniffs. “It terrifies me that I like you because my whole life, I’ve been working so hard for my family. I wanted to stay with them and take care of them ever since my mother passed. She was our rock. Our glue that held us together and after she left, I had to take care of everyone. It’s been like that for more than a decade. And then you come along,” she looks up at Levi’s face and smiles, “and made me feel all of this.” She concludes and Levi smiles. He grabs her waist and pulls her onto his lap while he holds her mendhi covered hands. “I’m sorry. For your loss, for having to take the responsibility of a family at such a young age. You didn’t deserve that. So let me take you and show all the things that you missed out. Please?” He asks as they both feel droplets of rain fall. Y/n smiled shyly and hugged his neck. “Ok. But take me home first.” She giggles and Levi hugs her back. “Yeah. I don’t want your father to kill me.” “Trust me. It’s my sister you have to be afraid of.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. She almost killed a boy once.” “You have to tell me that story one day but now,” Levi wakes up with Y/n still in his arms, “let’s get you home before you get sick on me.” Levi teases and Y/n pouts.

After a long walk with rain pouring down, Levi brought Y/n back home and stood by the door. As Y/n dried her hair and Punjabi, she looked at Levi who had his hands in his pockets. “Do you..want to come in? For some tea? It will warm you up.” She proposes and Levi quirks his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” He asks and she scoffs. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t ask, Levi.” Y/n tells him and he smirks. “Fair enough.” He responds and walks to her and she brings him inside. It was dark, since everything was closed. Y/n lit a lamp and looked at Levi who’s eyes glanced around before falling on her. “Come.” She tells him and takes his hand. He looks down and sees his bracelet he gave her. He wanted to say something but chose to remain quiet. Nothing needed to be said anyway.

Y/n took Levi upstairs and looked around. “Huh. Looks like everyone is asleep.” She whispers and looks at Levi. “Let’s go to my room. We won’t disturb anyone that way.” She leads him to her room and Levi really was enjoying being dragged around by her. When they entered her room, it was a reasonable size but it had a few leakages in the roof. Y/n let’s go off his hand and go to put the lamp in the middle of the room. “Sorry for the mess.” She mumbled as she was cleaning up. Levi instantly stopped her and sat on her bed. “It’s ok. Don’t apologize.” He tells her and she smiles. “Let me make your tea. I’ll be back.” She wakes up and goes to boil the water. Levi sat and looked around. He saw her books and novels and woke up to check them.

He was fascinated by the books she had. All were about harvesting, some autobiographies, tea. “A tea book?” He asks himself and opens to look through it. He saw her little notes on the sides and smiled to himself.

Y/n came in after a few minutes with a tray with a teapot and cups. She puts them on a little table and looked at Levi. “Oh. You found the tea book.” She comments and walks to him. “It’s very interesting. Mind if I borrow it?” He asks. “Not at all. I actually don’t need it anymore. Come. Have some.” She says and pours the tea in a cup. “Sugar?” He shakes his head and sips the tea and sighs in content. “It’s amazing, Y/n. Unlike anything I’ve ever tasted.” He looks at her while she smiles. “Thank you. Oh! You’re soaking. Wait here.” She quickly wakes up and gets a towel for him. Y/n also got another shirt for him and placed it next to him. “It’s an old shirt. But please use it. You’re going to get sick.” Y/n tells him and wipes his face and hair. Levi puts his cup down and holds her hands. “You’re also soaking, Y/n.” He comments as he looks at her wet Punjabi which stuck to her body.

“O-Oh. Yeah. I’ll go and change.” She whispers and her and Levi don’t move. It feels nice to have someone this close who makes you feel so happy inside. Levi cups her cheek and moves her closer to his face. She doesn’t stop him, her heart telling her to kiss him. “Y/n..” he breathes out and Y/n gulps. “Y-Yes?” She answers and he bites his lip. “Can I..?” He leaves the unspoken words in the air, knowing she knew what he was going to ask. She nods and Levi pulls her in for a kiss. It’s soft and they both molded into each other like clay. Y/n’s hands made their way to his shoulders and his around her waist. They both back onto the bed and Y/n pulled away. They both panted as their chest heaved. The only sound filling the room was the sound of rain and thunder. Her eyes were locked onto his and Levi moved up and captured her lips again. She tasted so good. It was long before he got addicted to her. “L-Levi.” Y/n pants as his lips made their way to her neck. Her blouse was in the way but it was low cut so he took advantage of that and kissed her chest and marked her.

Y/n leaned down and kissed all around his face. Forehead, cheek, nose and his lips once again. When they both pulled away, she smiled at him and he returned it. It was too late to turn back now.

———————————————————————

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

February Contest Submission #14: Valentine Vesuvius

words: ca. 4700 setting: mAU with accidental time travel lemon: no cw: homelessness

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

I turned to look at Elsa in confusion. Wasn’t this museum date her idea? She looked mischievous, her left eyebrow arched.

I opened my mouth. Shut it. Opened it. I glanced at the other families gathered in a loose arc around the museum tour guide who was currently droning on about some old emperor or another.

“Hell yeah,” I whispered.

Moments later we were giggling as we ran through a deserted hallway like school girls skipping class. Never mind that we were two adults in our upper-twenties who chose as well as paid to be at the museum.

We rounded a corner and found ourselves suddenly immersed in a dim room void of people, filled instead with spotlights on old pottery from Ancient Rome or something. Elsa spun to face me and took my hands in hers. I dragged my gaze from a vase depicting a mountain with people at its base, and met Elsa’s eyes.

“I’m so lucky to have you as my wife,” she said, gently squeezing my hands.

“I’m the lucky one,” any more words would have been cut off as Elsa cupped my face and kissed me.

She pulled away slightly and rubbed her thumb in a soft circle on my cheek. “Anna…”

My eyes were still closed from the intimate sensation, but I blinked them open. Why did she sound so sad? “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

She took a deep, slow breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

“I just… I want kids so bad, Anna.”

My heart broke. I nodded. “I know, Els. I do too.”

“I thought this tour would be a fun valentines date. I just didn’t expect there to be so many families. So many kids. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand to be around them another second.” She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

We had been trying everything we could the past couple of years, but the IVF wasn’t working and every adoption had fallen through. It was all getting so expensive, and even more frustrating.

I rubbed her arm. “Why is it so easy for straight people to accidentally create life, but when a couple of lesbians want kids it costs twenty thousand dollars and two left kidneys?”

“It’s not fair,” Elsa sighed.

“It’s not,” I said. “But hey,” I touched her chin, lifting her head up from its sad slouch. “We’re strong as fuck. We’re not going to give up.”

Elsa nodded.

“And until we do become parents,” I continued, “we are still perfect, and whole, and completely the best family I could ever imagine. Just the two of us.”

She smiled. “You’re right, Anna. With you by my side, there’s nothing else I could ever need. I hope I’ve never made you feel like you aren’t enough. You’re my everything; so much more than I deserve.” Pulling me close, she started sounding more like herself again.

“Don’t be silly,” I kissed Elsa quickly. “You deserve everything good in the world.” Another kiss. “And I love you.” Another. “So much.”

The last kiss was deepened by way of Elsa’s grip on the back of my neck. She took my lower lip between her teeth and flicked the tip of her tongue across it playfully, sending a shiver up my spine and heat shooting down my stomach.

I gasped as Elsa grabbed my waist and kissed my neck while she walked us toward a wall. Throwing my head back, I was relying on her to guide us. I couldn’t function when she was sucking on my neck, my pulse point like — that, ah! Jesus!

“Oops.”

I barely registered that my back hit something wobbly, but the last thing I heard was the unmistakeable sound of pottery crashing on the floor. I felt a flash of cold air run over my skin and then - nothing.

————————————-

When I came to, the first thing I felt was a piercing headache. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet and I wished I could close them. Gripping my skull, I rolled around in the darkness behind my eyelids, wishing the high pitched shriek in my ears would fade. Then I noticed the bumpy texture digging into my back. Uhh… Why did the museum floor feel like it was made of rocky ground?

Perhaps more pressing: why was the rocky ground …trembling?

I stopped moving altogether and sure enough, the ground I was laying on was shaking. I cracked my eyes open only to be blinded by bright sky. This was definitely not the museum exhibit. Blinking rapidly, my eyes started to adjust to the light even as my headache pounded and begged me to close them, or better yet, knock myself back out.

While I waited for my vision to make sense, I scrambled to get my feet under me. This was easier said than done, the way the ground wouldn’t stop moving beneath my legs. Finally I was at least on all fours and stable enough to look around.

“Jesus Christ.” Was that a motherfucking volcano? I arched my neck to see the top of the mountain I was extremely close to. Pluming dark clouds surrounded its peak. What the hell happened to me?

I whipped my head around, swaying from the dizzy fit the motion sent me into. I was in sort of a vast, empty field of rocky, grassy terrain. There looked to be a bustling town just down the hill. No one else was around, except —

“Elsa!” I shrieked. I scrambled to my right, getting to my feet as I gained momentum. Rocks kept shifting under my bare feet and I tripped a couple of times before I reached where she was laying. I fell to my knees by her side, and rolled her onto her back.

“Elsa?” I tapped her cheek with my palm, patting it several times. “Els! Wake up!”

She groaned.

Relief washed over me. I kept nudging her until she came to. She groaned again. “Ugh… my head.”

“Shh, I know, it sucks.” I said, more to myself than to her, as I pulled her head into my lap. “Wait. Are you wearing a fucking toga?” I looked down at myself. “Am I wearing a fucking toga?!”

We were both wearing cream colored fabric gathered at the shoulders and the waist. As if being at the base of a volcano wasn’t enough of a wake up call, for some reason the wardrobe change was what pushed me over the edge. It felt like my throat was closing up as I started struggling to breathe. My lungs couldn’t fill; I took breaths faster and faster, but too shallow to help. Perfect time for a panic attack, Anna.

Slow down. I closed my eyes, gripping Elsa tightly to me. Breathe in.

I felt the fabric under my fingers, it was thick but soft. Breathe out.

I heard birds chirping their alarms in the distance, wind sweeping past, and small rocks settling into new places all around me. Breathe in.

I smelled… fresh, salty air, tainted by something like smoke or dust. Breathe out.

“Hey lady! Is she dead?”

My eyes snapped open. There was a young girl, about eight years old approaching us from down the hill. She held a basket and wore a similar tunic, but hers had been through a lot. It was tattered and dirty. The words she spoke were so strange - I understood them in my head but at the same time, they sounded… foreign to my ears.

I cleared my throat. “No, she’s just waking up,” I responded. My own words had the same strange quality to them when I spoke to the girl.

“Oh. Who are you? My name is Cassia.” She had dark hair chopped unevenly at her shoulders.

“What a pretty name!” I said, a million thoughts racing through my head. “I’m Anna, and this is my… this is Elsa.” I didn’t know where, or when, we were so I didn’t want to get us into any unnecessary trouble. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any. I was just gathering some berries when the ground shook again. Did you do it?” She squinted at me suspiciously.

So there are earthquakes here often. “No, of course not,” I laughed, hopefully convincingly, even though I had never felt less like laughing. “Elsa and I are traveling from afar, but …we got lost and hit our heads when the earth shook. Can you tell us where we are, exactly?”

Cassia gave me a strange look. “This is Pompeii, silly. What other city is at the bottom of the volcano?”

Pompeii?

….Holy fucking Vesuvius…

———————————————————

Once Elsa was fully conscious and aware of our situation, we decided to take Cassia up on her offer to show us to her home, which turned out to be more of a fort in the outskirts of town. It was about midday and the kid was generous enough to let us hang out in her home while she went back out to keep foraging, now that the tremors had slowed down enough.

We sat on the dirt floor after Cassia left, both staring off into the distance, in shock. How the fuck did this happen?

“So…” Elsa began.

“We’re in fucking Pompeii!” I exclaimed.

“What the fuck!” Elsa said.

And then we laughed, because, honestly, what else could we do at that point? We laughed uncontrollably. We laughed at our clothes. We laughed at the earthquake, at the damn volcano, at the funny way all of the words sounded.

When we couldn’t laugh anymore, I fell into Elsa’s torso and we sat, half snuggled up on the dirt floor of this impoverished orphan’s dwelling place.

“What year do you think it is?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Elsa said. “Does it matter?”

“I mean,” I glanced at her sideways, “I sure hope it’s not 79 AD.”

“Is that when it happened? How do you even know that?”

“I told you I always liked that section of art history.”

“Hmm,” Elsa sighed. “Well how do we even figure it out? We can’t just ask someone. Do they even use that system right now? Like the AD and BC stuff?”

I shrugged. “I almost don’t even need to be told though, you know? Just by the way that smoke looked above the volcano… I have a bad feeling.” Elsa looked concerned too. “Maybe we could ask around to find out if it usually does that when there’s an earthquake here. We could get a sense for how much we need to panic.”

“That’s a good idea. And if it’s the worst case scenario, then there’s the question of, do we worry about evacuating or do we figure out how to get us the fuck back home before this place is history?”

Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish we had a clue how it happened. I don’t know how we’re getting back if we don’t know what sent us here in the first place.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We should try to think back on everything that happened in those last few minutes we can remember.”

“Well, we were in that room with the… what was it? Pottery?”

“Mhmm,” I continued, “And you were kissing the life out of me until we bumped into something and it fell. Oh! I wonder if it was that vase I was looking at.”

“What vase?” Elsa asked.

I rubbed my head, “Think think think. Um, it was clay. It had people on it. Oh! And a mountain! A volcano! It had to be that vase. It must have been found in Pompeii, and when we broke it while we were making out, it sucked us into its original time. Or something like that.”

“Sure, that sounds about right for how today’s going,” Elsa said. “But then, why didn’t it come through with us? I didn’t see any clay fragments where we landed on that hill.”

“Me neither,” I frowned. “Or maybe it couldn’t come along because here in Pompeii it already exists! Maybe we just have to find where it is now and recreate what happened before.”

“There’s a thought…�� Elsa said. “So we just have to search the entire city for a vase with a volcano and people on it.”

“That sounds fun! Can I help?”

Elsa and I both turned to the doorway, startled. How long had Cassia been standing there?

——————————————————————-

Too long. Cassia had been standing there too long, and she had as many questions for us as we had for her.

Before long she knew we were accidentally-time-traveling wives from almost two thousand years in the future and Pompeii was doomed; and we in turn knew it was indeed the 79th year, no the dark volcano clouds were not normal for an earthquake, and the entire city was already scrambling to evacuate. I had a terrible feeling that Elsa and I caused the earthquake through our rough landing, effectively dooming Pompeii. Also, Cassia was eight years old like I had guessed, had been living on her own since she was five and a half, and she wanted nothing more than to help us find the vase we needed.

“That’s really sweet of you,” I said, placing a hand on her arm, “But you have to promise that as soon as we find the right vase you’ll get yourself to safety.”

Cassia glanced to the side as she said, “Promise.”

I was a little concerned about the validity of that promise but decided I’d try again later. First we were off to a shop that sold souvenirs for all the rich vacationers that visited Pompeii.

It was a short walk until we made it into the more touristy, upscale part of the city. Here, everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. In and out of homes, carrying personal possessions, yelling for neighbors, yelling at the sky.

We almost lost sight of Cassia several times but we managed to follow her to the shop she talked about. We ducked under the arched doorway into the small space. It was dark, and seemed to be usually lit by candles like the lonely one over to the side that hadn’t been extinguished. Elsa went to retrieve it for us.

Using the single flame to see, we wandered around the space as a little pack, checking out all kinds of little trinkets made from stone and clay. Many were volcano-related, but it all seemed so small compared to the vase I remembered.

“Cassia,” I said, “Do you think this place has any vases that are… this big?” I motioned my hands around to describe the size.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so? This place has nothing that big, but it could be…” she tilted her head in thought. “Oh, it’s probably Oaken’s! Duh.”

More winding through the chaotic streets behind Cassia. This walk actually went very fast, and before we knew it we had arrived at another shop. This one was bigger and well-lit inside. We all walked in. I immediately noticed that there were many vases of a familiar style and size, making my heart leap in hope.

“Not open for business or looting!” A voice called from deep in the shop.

“We just have a question!” I yelled back. “It’s urgent!”

“And we mean no harm!” Elsa added.

The man grumbled as he made his way to us, accompanied by the sound of sandals crunching on clay shards. Poor guy must have lost some of his pottery to the earthquake earlier.

“What’s the question?” A very large man appeared from behind a display wall. “Oh Cassia, dear. Why didn’t you say you were here?”

Cassia was standing half behind me. Was she suddenly shy or something?

I spoke up, “Cassia led us here. We think you can help us. We’re looking for a certain vase. We… saw it on a recent vacation but didn’t buy it, and then…”

“Then later we realized we lost a ring,’ Elsa chimed in. “We think it might’ve fallen in this vase.”

The pottery man sighed, “Well that’s a long shot, but what did the vase look like?”

“It was about yay-big, and it depicted the volcano with people underneath,” I explained excitedly.

He raised an eyebrow, “That’s about half the vases I make. You know this is a tourist town at the base of a volcano.”

I thought harder. There was a chip of color I could almost see in my memory. “Um, well, it might’ve had a sort of turquoise color by the rim?”

“Oh!” The man stood up straight. “In that case, I know the exact vase. Unfortunately I sold it about six months ago. Real rich family. Their vacation home is at this address,” he scribbled onto a small stone. “I don’t think they’ve been in town the last few months. With all the chaos out there, nobody would notice if you slipped in to look for the ring. Just make it quick.”

Soon we were walking again. When we entered an empty alley I spoke up, “Hey Cassia, why were you so quiet back there?”

She turned to face us while she kept walking, backwards, “Oaken is nice, but I have to act shy and sad around the people with money, so they’ll feel bad and give me food. I learned pretty fast that they don’t care about a mouthy troublemaker as much as a helpless little girl.”

Wow. I couldn’t imagine having to learn something that depressing as a homeless five year old. Cassia was a strong kid, and she somehow managed to seem happy and nonchalant about her struggles.

Elsa looked around at the quiet homes we were walking between. “Why are some parts of the city so calm while other ones are in chaos?”

Cassia shrugged. “Only the richest people will get to evacuate in time. The rest of us have learned to stay in our homes and hope we make it through whatever comes. There’s no point in panicking around the city because we would never make it onto a ferry anyway.”

The rest of our walk was completed in silence. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this girl. I wished there was some way we could help her before we (hopefully) escaped the city ourselves. Judging by the look on Elsa’s face, her heart was breaking for Cassia, too. I met Elsa’s eyes and we shared a look. We definitely had to do something for the girl.

Suddenly we were standing in front of a grand structure made of stone. It was no little hut; more like an ancient mansion. This was somebody’s vacation home? Jeez! These people in 79 AD sure knew how to live lavishly.

“Looks like he was right,” Elsa said. “There’s no one around.”

“Wow!” Cassia was already walking through the front door. “Check this out! They have a river in their house!”

Elsa and I stepped inside and saw what the kid meant. There was a decorative skinny pool of calm water that stretched in a line from the front room of the house to somewhere beyond the next doorway. Pompeii style skylights illuminated the open space with the ashy, dreariness of the sky above.

We passed the minimalist entry room into the next space. Here, there was a staircase to the left, a gathering area, and more doorways.

“Hey Cassia, why don’t you head upstairs and see if there’s any vases up there while we finish looking down here?”

“Okay!” the girl was excited by her solo mission and took off up the stone steps.

Once she was gone, I rushed to Elsa. “Come ‘ere, baby,” I said as we hugged each other close.

She let out a sigh of relief. “I was gonna lose it if we didn’t get to talk soon. Alone.”

“I know,” I said. “This is a lot to go through without being able to actually talk.”

She nodded. “About Cassia…” I knew exactly where she was going.

“We have to take her with us,” I finished.

“She has nowhere to run. If she’s left here she’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”

“I know, Els.” I grabbed her hands. “You don’t have to convince me. It’s what we have to do.”

Elsa continued, “And I’m not saying that we have to adopt her or anything, but I just want her to be safe. Once we’re back we can find somewhere for her to—”

“We are fucking raising that child, Elsa.” I interrupted.

“Oh thank god,” she said, as I pulled her in close once more. “Do you think we should tell her?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What if she doesn’t want to come? We’re running out of time, so maybe we shouldn’t give her the option if she might fight it,” she explained. “This is the only way she’ll be safe but if she doesn’t want to leave Pompeii, there’s no way we could make her.”

“Given that she’ll have to hold onto us while we kiss and break the vase…” I added.

“Or we grab her at the last second.”

“Right,” I said. “Either way, you have a point. We shouldn’t give her the option in case she would choose to stay.”

Elsa’s face suddenly went pale as she pointed behind me. I turned to see Cassia standing with her arms crossed.

“If you two wanna have a kid you’re going to have to learn how to talk quieter. It’s so easy to eavesdrop on you!”

My mouth was stuck open while I tried to form words.

“What did you hear?” Elsa asked in a low voice.

Cassia’s demeanor changed from snarky to… almost shy. “Um… Well, if it helps you to know, I’d really like to go with you. Away from here. Please.”

“Of course,” I stepped forward and wrapped her up in a big hug.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Elsa joined in. “And if you want, you never have to be lonely again.”

A soft voice came from the middle of the hug, “I’d like that.”

“Now let’s find that damn vase,” I said, pulling away from them.

“Language.” Elsa looked at me pointedly, with a glimmer in her eye.

Cassia laughed at Elsa. “I already know how to swear, weirdos.”

This kid was going to be an adventure.

——————————————-

A few minutes later, we found the vase in a bedroom. It was sitting on a side table near a window, which was actually just a square cut out of the wall. We were going to have to hurry with the way the sky was looking out there. I was not about to let us get buried in burning ash right after vowing to expand our family to include our new little Pompeii friend.

“Alrighty!” I said, clapping my hands together and rubbing my palms. “So… now what?”

“What did you do to get here?” Cassia said. “Kiss a bunch? Ew.”

Elsa cleared her throat. Yeah this was a little more awkward than I hoped.

“Um, yeah, so,” I began, “maybe you can stand right next to the vase here, Cass. And then Elsa and I will…” I glanced at my reddening wife, “do our thing, and when we bump into the vase, at the last second, you grab onto us.”

Cassia stared at me.

“Does that makes sense?” I asked. “We only have one shot at this.”

She blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds easy. You just… you called me Cass.”

Shit. “Sorry, was that ok?” I grimaced.

“I like it,” she grinned. “I like it a lot.”

“Awesome!” Phew. I didn’t want to fuck things up with our kid before we even got home. “So, you stand right here and just ignore everything about what we’re doing except for where we are. Then grab us as soon as—”

“As soon as you hit the vase, yeah. Got it.” Cassia pushed us toward the doorway. “Go be gross.” Elsa and I stumbled over to the open entryway of the room. We ducked out of Cassia’s view for a moment.

We both leaned on the wall and took a second to breathe. I gazed over at Elsa. She had a lot of emotions running across her face; embarrassment, relief, worry. I took her hand, causing her to look at me. “Hey.” I said. “Whatever happens this time… we did everything in our power to fix things.”

“I know,” Elsa sighed. “There’s just so much to process. We probably caused the deaths of everybody here, but at least we could save one person - and that’s if this even works to send us all home, which if it doesn’t, means we’re all going to die the same fate, which maybe we deserve—!”

I cut her off with a kiss: short, but long enough to send my message. “Shhh babe. It won’t do any good to obsess over that right now. If we survive, we will absolutely be marching ourselves to therapy, but for right now, we gotta get in there and get our butts back home.”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little as if some of the tension eased away.

“Now, you gonna kiss me or what?” I asked with a smirk.

——————————-

I flung my arm wildly about, searching for the bottle of Tylenol on my bedside table. Would that even be strong enough for the fierce pounding in my skull? Instead of my familiar nightstand, I felt cold linoleum floor. I blinked my eyes open. Dim yellow spotlights gave a soft glow in the dark space around me.

Oh.

It all came back, just like that. I rolled over and saw Elsa sprawled out next to me —why am I always the first to wake up?— and the small form of a girl just beyond her. Cassia! She was clothed in a very sensible t-shirt and leggings combo. Thank goodness she didn’t pop into the museum in her old tattered cloth.

It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed our little …blip, so I quickly slid my two girls across the floor to keep us out of view from the hallway. As I pulled Cassia by her wrists, I noticed the vase sitting on a podium, looking exactly as it had back in Pompeii. It had bright colors and no evidence that almost 2,000 years had passed, or that it had technically shattered twice. Huh. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?

I sat on the floor next to Elsa and Cass while they continued to sleep off their travels, and I wondered how the vase actually did what it did. Was it a magic vase? Did that guy Oaken know he made something so powerful? Did he make other enchanted pottery? Something told me I would never have the answers to those questions. I certainly wasn’t in any rush to go back and ask him. Nope, ancient time traveling wasn’t really my thing after all.

It wasn’t long before Elsa woke up, and Cassia wasn’t far behind. We probably should’ve prepared her a little for life in the 21st century, as the simple museum lightbulbs were freaking her out. Just you wait, little lady. You have no idea how much your world has changed!

Once we calmed her down a bit, Elsa and I held hands with Cass, and began walking out of the room that changed our lives. Well, we took a few steps anyway, before I halted.

“What’s that noise?” I asked. “That jangly noise?” It was coming from the kid. I raised my eyebrow at her.

Realization dawned on Cassia’s face as her hands found her pants pockets… and pulled out fistfuls of glittering jewelry. “Oops?” she said, nervously.

Elsa’s jaw dropped. “Did you take those from the mansion?”

“I found them upstairs,” Cassia said, looking down at her clean black tennis shoes. “It was all just laying there, and the world was ending.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, not wanting her to think we were upset. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I wondered if those pieces of jewelry had ever been recovered from the archeological site. I could see the headlines now: Priceless Ancient Pompeii Artifacts Vanish from Museum! I chuckled to myself, shaking my head.

“Hmm?” Elsa prompted.

“Ah, nothing,” I said with a smile. Then I pointed to the red, glowing Exit sign above a nearby doorway. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

#elsanna #submission #february 2021 contest #prompt: ancient worlds #cw: homelessness

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lennydaisy · 4 years

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EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER FOUR.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

“Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks Season 1- FEM OC! and ?

Warnings! This chapter does have mentions of violence and panic attacks.

Here’s the link to Chapter 3 in case you haven’t read it already <3 Check it out!!

The Outer Banks isn't exactly a big island. With a population of 50,000, what do you expect? Everybody knows everybody. Kooks know Kooks. Pogues know Pogues. And unfortunately, Kooks and Pogues know each other too.

They might have tried to divide the island, but they can't divide the people.

There are no secrets in the OBX and if there is, they get found out eventually. That's what tends to happen when you're at each other's throats constantly. Anything can happen, especially when someone's reputation is on the line. Also, when you live in a community where the only thing to do this work, fish, and then work some more, even the most unsuspecting people will begin to buzz with excitement at the chance of an interesting day. Even if what they're talking about isn't true at all.

I learned this first hand when my dad went missing. Anyone and everyone will jump at the chance to start rumours, wanting to be the first one to claim they know for a fact what happened. Shocker, but these people don't know shit.

"I heard he was abducted by aliens."

"No way. Did you not see his beard? He was obviously an addict."

"Maybe he followed the mom. With children like that, I'd jump at the chance to leave too."

"Maybe they did it."

It feels like history is repeating itself.

Irritation rips through my body as I tug off my shoes, hopping in an attempt to see the damage done to my heels. Grimacing at the blister that has found its home on the back of my ankle, blood spotting around the brim of my now white, stained socks.

Pushing forward through the streets of the cut, just wanting to get home, I keep my head ducked down, walking on the balls of my feet in hopes of dodging the small stones that litter the path. The summer sun now at its highest point in the sky, beating down on me overhead as it burns my scalp, leaving a painful tingle at the crown of my head.

It's the start of the sunny season. The best time of the year. Endless nights filled with drunken rushes and hearty emotions. You lose yourself in the blaze and are completely content with never finding your way out. Shopping cart races down the uneven streets. Dancing freely on the dim-lit porch. Getting attacked by an army of mosquitos. And watching the stars twinkle from the comfort of a scratchy hammock. That's summer.

Some residents of The Cut spend their summers fishing and having disorganised garden parties. Others still have the misfortune of having to work through this obnoxious heat and have to deal with even more obnoxious Kooks.

Believe it or not, it's not the teenagers that are the biggest hassle on the island. It the elderly. And we have plenty of them. During the winter they're like hermits, never leaving the comfort of their homes. Delivery services and the postman become their best friend for four months of the year.

When summer arrives it's game over, especially for those Touron families who just wanted to get away from the bustle of the in-country. Only to be welcomed by off-the-rails pensioners.

The cliché for Fireman is to save cats from trees, right? Not at the cut. A few summers ago I had to call the fire services to collect the 83-year-old lady who managed to get herself stuck in the tree just outside the Château.

It was a weird experience. All most cult-like. The old lady laughing her head off as a group of elders cheered her on. I did try to get her to come down, but I got told to 'live a little,' and got a shoe to the face courtesy of the lady in the tree.

Point proved. They're batshit. The tiniest bit of sun drives them insane after being hauled up inside for no one else's fault but their own. Someone should tell the poor dearies that winter in the Outer Banks isn't like the ice age.

That's why what I'm currently looking at is terrifying.

In a freshly mowed lawn, all seated in orderly rows beholds what appears to be the street's resident elderly. Perfectly placed garden tables covered with toppers, bottles of wine fully on display, even though they appear to be drinking out of teacups, and the mouth-watering smell of BBQ meat. It seems like the perfect way to spend the summer afternoon.

Diverting my confused gaze from surprisingly stable elderly, I pick up the pace, limping my way past the garden. Hoping that my grumbling belly doesn't sound as loud as I believe it too.

"Did you hear about Scooter Grubbs?"

"Oh yes. Poor soul. He didn't deserve to die, he was a good man."

"Good man!? If he's a good man then Peter here's a Godsend."

"Hey!"

"I caught him in a Grady White the other day, probably stole it."

Grady White?

"It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence." I thought out loud, now practically run back to the Château. My brain working a mile a minute, the conversation that I heard playing on repeat.

'Scotter Grubbs.'

'Die.'

'Grady White.'

'It's just a coincidence!'

Slowing to a walk when I spot my house, lightly as possible I tiptoe down the dirt path, my feet hating me for every stone and stick that I seem to stand on. My hands swinging back and forward, the laces of my shoes slapping against my thighs as I voice my thoughts, "It just some freaky coincidence. Maybe I've been voodooed? Maybe I just heard wrong? Yeah! That's it, I should clean my ears, I'm hearing things wrong-"

My tangent of self-explanations ease to whispers as I catch sight of Pope, alone, at our small dock, appearing to be securing the 'HMS Pogue' from becoming adrift. About to call out to my friend, wanting to tell him about the crazy gossip that I heard on my walk home, but Pope sees me nearing the Château and makes a mad dash back into my house.

'It's just a coincidence?'

Brushing off the boy's odd action, I continue my walk to the front door, wanting nothing more than to just kick my aching feet up and chill.

"Deny, deny, deny."

Pushing open the sheer porch door, the room falls into an abrupt silence. Pope finding interest in his hands. JJ flicking his lighter. John B throwing an empty beer bottle from hand to hand. And Kiara finding interest in her shoes.

Not even standing in the house yet, the door still being held in my hand, I just gaze at my friends in amusement. Licking my dry lips, I toss my trashed shoe's beside the coach that is being occupied by Kie and Pope. Not even blinking an eye, I make my way over to the straw chair, next to the recliner that holds JJ.

The usually satisfying noise of the distressed straw under my weight echos around the room with an unsettling crunch. I wait. Picking my chipped nail posh off my nails, wincing as I place my feet on the small table in front of me.

I finally close my eyes, embracing the silence of the Château. The sound of distant crickets and the odd screaming of the gulls that roam the skies bring me to an oddly calm state. My body seems to sink into the surprisingly comfortable seat despite the uncomfortable looks that I can feel being sent my way.

"JJ stole a gun and money from Scotter Grubbs' motel room!"

There it is.

Pope finally cracking under the pressure of my laidbackness. Slowly opening my eye, I catch the glares been shot in Pope's direction. The boy has never been very good at keeping secrets, I don't know what they expected.

Turning to the blonde beside me, "You have a gun?" I ask warily. Not that I don't trust JJ, I just don't know how to feel about a firearm being in my house.

He doesn't answer me. No one did.

Placing my feet back on the ground with a painful wince, I look bored at my friends, "Is no one going to talk to me? You're going to keep me in the dark?"

I still get no answer, not even a look in my direction. The air suddenly becoming too heavy for my liking, I push myself up from my chair and make my way through the house. I can read the room and clearly whatever happened they don't want me to know so, that's that.

My room hasn't changed since I was four years old. My once pink curtains now faded with the constant sun shining against them. My lopsided wardrobe that is hanging onto its hinges for dear life, overflowing with the unnecessary amount of clothes I have. My oak bedside table stained with coffee cup rings and the head of my bed that is taken over by the herd of stuffed animals that I have accumulated over the years.

Everything in this room has a memory.

Like the glow in the dark stars that I stuck to the ceiling above my bed. JJ and I had a fun time that day. Bouncing on the bed in hopes of getting at least one to stick. From time to time the odd one will fall off and slap me in the face during my slumber, but that's expected when you're roof has been leaking since you were born.

Or the name that is carved onto the windowsill. That was a long time ago. It was a different time back then. I was a different Mason back then. Over the years I've tried to convince myself to cover it up, but I can never follow through. Despite how much I hate the way it stares at me in the dead of the night, they once used to be the reason the sun would always rise the next day.

The stuffy air seeming to follow me into my haven, I push open the window inviting the sound of the rustling trees and subtle waves in my room. Taped to the window is the many memories that I have captured in time.

There's me and John B on our third birthday, with obnoxious party hats with even more obnoxious tassels. Birthday badges that are bigger than our heads, and party horns in our mouths. Our eye sparkled with nothing but innocence back then. Those two had no idea what they'd grow to be. I hope they'd be proud if they saw.

There's one from the day I met Kie. My dad took it without us knowing, both of us to busy squealing and flailing away from the lobster we had just caught. It's not my best picture, my hair blowing in every direction as I wore wellingtons that were two sizes too big. I made a life long friend that day.

My favourite photo, against my better judgment, is one taken from the day of the boat race. My friend and I holding onto each like our lives depended on it. The sides of our faces smushed together with a laughable look of discomfort in our eyes at the idea of being forced to take a picture in front of the honourable boatmen.

I've never moved house. I was born in the Château and I'll probably die in the Château. My point is, I know this house inside out. Like, to get the hot water in the shower to have to tap the back of the showerhead three times. Or how if you want to sneak out and not get caught, there a loud floorboard right in front of the door. I never snuck out though so, I wouldn't know, I've just heard about it.

I know this place like the back of my hand, from every corner to every inch. And also every sound. When the all too familiar scream of the door breaks the beckon of silence I wished upon myself, I make my way to my bed. Getting comfy, my legs in a basket, my back pressed against the headboard as I stare out the window with my floppy elephant teddy placed in between my hands.

The patter of feet entre my room. My bed dipping with the newly added weight. The windowsill humming as it's used as a seat. The subtle strumming of my guitar. And the turning of my rusty, swirly, desk chair. They're all here.

I just frown my eyebrows at each of them, refusing to be the first one to talk. I don't know what happened, that's up to them to explain it to me.

"What do you know about Scooter Grubbs?" John B, being the first to speak up, asks.

"His uh- married to Mrs Grubbs?" I guess, but it has proven that I don't know how to read a room either, my joke falling short, "I've had to kick him out of Save-A-Lot a couple of times. He was creeping out Mrs Adams after she caught him shaking the charity boxes."

Letting my serious reply linger in the air, I ask the question that I need to know the answer to, "What happened to Scooter Grubbs?" What I heard couldn't be true, I had just seen him last week, perfectly healthy.

"His body was found in the marsh this morning," Kie whispers, her fingers still gently plucking the strings of my guitar as she refused to look anywhere else.

Shit.

"It was his boat we found this morning, wasn't it?" My words echoing through the silent room. Everyone minds seeming to be running with the news. What do we do?

"It just doesn't make sense. How does a marine rat get a Grady White?" John B throws the question that everyone is thinking out. It's true, Scooter Grubbs was never seen with more than $40 in his pocket and now he's cruising around with a boat cut out for a Kook. It's odd.

"Prostitution," Pope inhales sharply, not missing a beat to voice his opinion. I click my fingers nodding at the boy who is sitting comfortably beside me on the bed, "Or a sugar daddy?" I reason but then grimace at the thought of Grubbs being a sugar baby.

"Square groupers," John B states like its obvious. Turning to Pope who pretends to understand what John B is talking about, I nudge his shoulder, "I liked ours better."

"What does that mean? JJ?" My brother points at the blonde boy who has occupied himself with my jar of shells, inspecting them closely, "Straight smugglin'," he says, placing the jar back in its place, his attention now on the conversation.

"And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck," John B promises. It makes sense. Who goes out for a boat ride during a hurricane? Someone who knows that there is no aerial surveillance and they could just fly right under the radar. It's a smart plan, but too smart for someone whose smugglin'.

"For the record," Pope starts, pulling out a wad of 100 bills that I can't help but gape at with large eyes. Scooter Grubbs had that kind of money but acted like he was homeless? Each to their own, I guess?

"If that is a smuggling ship, with illegal contraband on the inside of it... It probably belongs to someone else," Pope speaks the truth, waving the money around like its nothing to have this much cash in your hand.

'How much is there?' I thought. Deciding to find out, I snatch the wad from Pope's hand and begin to count it, "I'm glad you're here Pope," I muse, now at $2,000, "You guys have clearly never dealt with smugglers before. They're dirty pigs. Once they find out that..." finishing my counting, I place the notes on my bed, "$10,000 is missing there stash... Sorry to break it to you, but we'll be the prostitutes after that."

The four pairs of eyes on me causes me to shrink back slightly, "What?" I blink, "Did you guys forget about the Komodo Dragons? I can't get caught by smugglers, I'm probably already on a hit list."

"Minor details," Kie chips in, brushing off the hit list comment. "Taking it would be catastrophically stupid," Pope argues, siding with me, not being fond of the idea of being on a smuggler's radar with the way his body shakes at the thought.

"Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time," speaking of catastrophically stupid, JJ throws his pennies worth on the table, reaching forward for the cash, "All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck."

I can't believe we're even considering this. Stealing from a man who was just found dead not even a few hours ago. When did we stoop that low?

"Until then, we just lay low," JJ suggests, sitting comfortably against the windowpane with this dirty boats resting on the foot of my bed, "Just act normal."

Having enough of the discomfort, I shove his feet off my bed and look him straight in the eye, "As normal as we can with a gun, right?" I ask, referring to the firearm that is just casually hanging out his back pocket.

Nodding my head at the boy, "Promise me you'll use it responsibly?" Smiling tightly at JJ as I hold out my pinky. He just laughs out a breath, looking around for any help from the other three in the room. Each just giving him the eye, all agreeing with what I had asked.

I don't think he understands. He has a gun. A firearm. They're dangerous and it's not that I don't trust JJ, it just makes me uncomfortable and scared that one slip up with that thing and JJ's future could be uncertain. All our futures could be on the line if he doesn't handle it like an adult.

Locking his pinky with mine gently, he looks me dead in the eye, straight-faced, "I promise."

Satisfied with this, I nod my head, getting comfortable on my bed again, "Oh, and before I forget," I start, making sure every one of them is paying close attention to what I have to say, "Don't leave me in the dark again. Do not trust me?"

Jumping up at my question, "No. No, it's not that," John B, now sitting in front of me, quickly shooting down my assumptions, "It's just... we know you'd want us to do the right thing," he spills gently as the other three just nod at what the boy said, heads down in thought.

"At least we acknowledge that we're doing the wrong thing," I laugh lightly at the irony of the situation. It's true, I want us to do the right thing. I was hoping that they would report the wreck to the coast guard and we'd get a finder fee. Fair, it wouldn't have been as much as they found in that motel room, but it would have still been more than we had before.

At the word 'we' their eyes snap in my direction and I can't help the small smile that is creeping its way across my face, "Yes, I said we," I confirm, "I'm not letting you guys take all the glory for our downfall.

Little laughs being shared, seeming content with our resolve. Pope is the first to speak up, "So, what do we do?"

Exchanging glances with Kie, both having the same thought in mind, "Kegger!" we cheer with happiness. Sensing no objection against the idea, especially after the conversation we just had.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

The Boneyard. Misleading name because as far as I know there are no bones in the Boneyard. I think everyone on the island has heard about the boy who broke his jaw because he fell after attempting to climb the dead trees that litter the beach. It's similar to that story your teacher tells you about the boy who swung on his chair and split his head open.

Keggers at the Boneyard are a summer must. Something about an aluminium keg filled with cheap beer is very appealing when you're under the blazing sun and being swept away with the winds of the waves. Chugging away your worries as you dance with someone who you'll most likely never see again.

You can't fully understand the Outer Banks without understanding the Boneyard, its like a right of passage. If you're in, you're in, and if you're not, well, see you later.

It's like a three-layered burrito. There are me and my friends, the working class who put their blood, sweat, and tears into this island. There's the trust fund babies, the Kooks, who have never seen a hard days work in their life. Mostly likely just been dropped off in their stepdads range after a tough day at a 5-star boarding school.

Lastly, there are the Tourons. Or airheads, if we're being realistic. They come here for a week's vacation with their families and all of a sudden they claim that they want to spend the rest of their lives in the OBX. They're the chum for the sharks, fresh meat that everyone seems to throw themselves at.

"It's kinda weird when on T.V, we see people die, and they just sitting there," I overhear Pope attempting to flirt with a cute, blonde Touron, "but in actuality, they would be shitting and farting up a storm."

My nose begins to burn with the beer that just shot up it, as I hunch over myself coughing up a lung. The Touron boy who I was just casually talking too before, is now patting me on the back, asking if I'm okay, "I'm fine," I croak, my throat stinging as I swallow the rest of my beer.

"If you'll excuse me," I apologise to the boy, still cough as I speed walk over to my friend who fails to see the look of discomfort that is smeared across the girl's face.

Tapping Pope in the shoulder, interrupt his tangent about unrealistic standards of dying in movies, "Can I steal him for a minute, I'm so sorry," I excuse, as the girl nods her head rapidly, running at the chance to getting out of the conversation with Pope.

"What are you doing?" Pope whines, tugging free his arm from my grip that pulled him away from the blonde girl.

"No offence Pope, but we have to teach you how to flirt," I sympathise at the boy's failed attempt to impress the girl. "What's wrong with my flirting?"

Does he really want me to tell him why talking about people shitting after they die is not the best conversation starter? The boy looked genuinely looked confused, his doe eyes not seeing the picture. It's kinda cute.

"Absolutely nothing Pope," I pat him on the shoulder, not having the heart to tell him, so I won't, but I know someone who must definitely will, "Why don't you go talk to Kie about how great of an Aquarius she is?" I suggest, not giving him time to reply, pushing him in the direction of our friend, who too, just scared of a Touron. Fitting.

Empty cup in hand, I make my way over to the keg. Stepping over those lounging on the cold sand and bumping into those who drunkenly dance with their spirits high. Saying the odd 'Hey' and 'How's it going' here and there to the wasted teens that crowd the beach.

Standing patiently behind the person who is filling up their cup, I look around the beach spotting John B and JJ chugging their beers with a small circle cheering them on. I grin at the sight of JJ smashing his cup on the sand in victory, whilst Kie slaps him on the arm, probably ordering him to pick it up.

Turn back to the keg, I see the person just standing there, raising their cup to their mouth as they gaze out at the ocean. Clearing my throat, hoping they would move out the way, but they didn't. So, I try again. Nothing.

"Excuse me," I say, now standing beside the figure as I grab the streamer that they refuse to move from blocking. Looking up expectingly at the person, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest who it is. Shaking my head, I keep my attention on my cup.

"Good turn out," Topper comments, still not even glancing in my direction as he observes the beach.

Frowning, not understand why he is trying to even make conversation with me. I just shake my head, "Yeah," my voice laced with uncertainty, spinning around wanting to get away from the boy.

"Hey Mason," he calls out before I could leave, he attention now on me, "I want you to stay away from Sarah, alright?"

Tilting my head, not understanding why he's asking me this, "What?", but then it hit me, "Oh," I can't help but laugh. Toppers face twisting with irritation, jaw locked, as I try to compose myself after my drink spills on my hand.

"You don't have to worry Topper. I don't swing that way," still giggling as I reassure the boy that I don't want in on his 'territory', "Not fully anyway," I shrug, gulping my drink with raised eyebrows.

"I'm serious, Macy," he huffs, moving closer to me as I take a little step back halting his actions. About to question the boy's intentions, I spot the islands princess clad in a flowy summer dress, climbing onto the washed-up buoy.

"And I'm serious when I say you should probably get your girlfriend before she hurts herself," pointing him in the direction of the girl before waltzing past him, not wanting to be in his presence any longer than I need too.

"What did he want?" JJ asks, not even giving me the chance to sit down first, ahead of him spitting his distaste towards the Kook. "Nothing," I say, sliding in next to him on the dead tree, "Just Topper being Topper," my response being enough to ease his mind as he goes back to his beer.

The first Kegger of the summer was going smoothly. Everybody was having a good time, just drinking and getting to know each other. We had many beer chugging competitions, all of which triggered my acid reflux. We played limbo, which Pope surprisingly was an expert at. We even had a bootleg karaoke machine, where everyone had the pleasure of listening to me sing Céline Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'.

The warm, long, summer day just as quickly turned to night. The shining sun saying 'Goodbye' as the full moon said 'Hello', illuminating us with its white light. People were calling it a night, exhausted after a day worth of drinking. The others, however, just seemed to come more alive. The magic of the moonlight fuelling their desires to dance all night long.

"Your hair," I giggle as JJ fills up three cups, his hair sticking out in every direction as the cold breeze blows his mane over his forehead, "What's wrong with my hair?"

The alcohol now running wildly through our bloodstream. JJ has had to practically hold me up after nearly falling at least five times in the last two minutes. I don't care. I was having fun with my friends. I'm letting loose. I deserve it. Not sure my dad would be too happy with the underage drinking, but I know he's glad that I'm having fun.

"Can you at least fix it for me?" JJ asks with the gleam of the moon reflecting in his dilated eyes. Nodding, I reach my free hand up, hesitantly, but gently, beginning to brush my fingers through his knotted hair. The blonde seeming to be closer than before, causing my hand to slow to a stop. I can't help but just take a moment to wonder, 'when did his eyes get so blue?'

My cheeks tinting pink at my thoughts. I blink away from his steady eyes that seemed to call for mine like a two magnets call for each other. Hoping he didn't feel the sudden change that I notice lingering in the cool air, I attempt to act normal as I erratically rub my fingers through his locks, making them messy again, before darting off laughing as I hear him call for me, "Get back here, May!"

Swaying, just like the liquids in my cup, I, not so steadily, making my way over to John B, who had found fascination in staring out at the tides. "Johnny B," I squeal, using his body as a shield from JJ.

The blonde had easily caught up to me, pulling me away from behind my brother, he tucks his arms under mine, spinning us around quickly. My legs flying around wildly as my beer splashes onto the sand, "JJ!" I beg, but can't help the rumble of giggles that pass my lips.

Stumbling as my feet are placed gently back on the sand, I watch as JJ snatches the half-empty cup from my hand, "What is in this?" he grins, pulling an unsure face as he takes a whiff of my drink, going to pass it to John B, "Hey bro, your sisters drinking this shit."

Missing my buzz, I try to grab the cup out of his hand. JJ just moves out of my staggering reach, his eyes seeming to be elsewhere, "Oh, wait. Hey, hey. Hey, Sarah!"

What is he doing?

I watch as JJ calls out to the Kook girl who was trying to walk past us, hand-in-hand with her boyfriend. The girl smiles slightly at the obviously drunk boy, "Hi," she greets and continues to walk away.

JJ is very persistent. It's one of his many traits. Now, when you mix his persistence with a bit of alcohol, you either end up agreeing to things you usually never would, courtesy of his constant need for adventure and thrill. Or he'll push too far, not knowing to stop when it comes to certain people.

"Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?" he pitches like a salesman, holding the cup like it's a rare and expensive delicacy. When in reality, it’s just a mix of vodka and sprite that some Touron mixed for me.

"No, thanks," she declines politely, not really for a conversation, noticing herself that the boy was drunk. 'That's probably why he was talking to her,' I reason.

Drunk JJ is unpredictable. It can go one of two ways; He's either extremely attached or extremely disattached. He'll either want to hold you or you have to hold him. It's either you crying or him. There is no in-between when it comes to JJ. He's either on one side of the scale or the other. Even when sober, his emotions still run high, but give him a little bit of happy juice and you've just signed up for a foggy night.

"Is it not fancy enough for you?" he asks, now slightly pushing it as John B subconsciously eggs him on with drunken chuckles. I can't help, but just watch, as Sarah reaches back her hand for Topper to take. The boy has just been standing with his chest puffed up at the fellow blonde who is addressing his girlfriend.

"Hey, you know what? I'll take it," Topper suggests, his voice sounding deeper as the stumbles slightly, placing a friendly hand on JJ's shoulder, "Thank you, man. I appreciate it," he slurs, trying to grab the cup from JJ's hand.

"That's nice of you, Topper, but I didn't ask you," he points out laughing, moving the drink from Toppers reach as he points at him accusingly, "If you said pretty please, maybe?" he pretends like such simple words would change his mind.

"Oh, pretty please?" Topper laughs along, his jaw clenching at the joke.

I can tell Topper is drunk. Topper's a weird drunk. Kinda like JJ, but also completely the opposite. When Topper drinks he gets angry at everything, thinking that everyone wants to pick a fight with him. I don't know if its a guy thing? but it's definitely a Topper thing. He can't handle alcohol, I've told him this before. His emotions won't allow him to just drink and that's it. He always has something to prove when he's drunk, and it frankly ticks me off.

"Sarah," JJ tries again, holding the drink out for the girl to take, "You can have it," completely ignoring her red-faced boyfriend. It’s no surprise that JJ is proud of himself, he struck a nerve in Topper. Pissing off Kooks is what he was born to do and frankly, he does it well.

I've never told JJ this, but Kooks are scared of him. It easy to see. Every fight JJ has had, I've always had to clean up the mess. He always jokes that 'you should see the other guy', but I don't have to. JJ can hold his own and is willing to throw it down anywhere if anyone disrespects him or the people he cares about. They're always unfair though, 4 on 1, 6 on 1, it doesn't matter, because JJ always wins in the end, despite coming out looking the worst sometimes.

Right now Topper is the perfect example of that. Having enough of JJ's persistence, he shoves the cup back making me gasp was the cold liquids splash over my shirt and sticks to my hair. That was enough for JJ. Clenching his fist tightly on the front of Topper shirt, lifting him off the ground slightly with clouded eyes and a set jaw.

John B, Sarah, and I were all watching the scene unfold between the two blondes, being quick to jump in when it gets physical. Placing a firm hand on JJ's shoulder I push him back with John B, who blocks his vision from Topper, who too, is being dragged away by Sarah.

"You're so funny, man" JJ shouts over to Topper. John B trying to calm him down, snapping him out of it.

The tide had made its way closer to land, meaning we're all in close quarters with each other, all seated at the same part of the beach. It was no surprise when the small inconvenience caught the eyes of the party-goers. Pope is one of them, as he quickly rushes over to his friends.

"Diry Pogues!" Topper insults, breaking free from Sarah's grip, just to spit in our faces. John B wastes no time, shoving him harshly away from us, earning more attention.

I didn't see it coming, and I assume neither did John B. Topper marches his way over to my brother, swinging his fist at his face.

Choking on the cold breeze, I go running for my brother who fell into the waves at the force. Pope being busy holding back the thrashing JJ, Kie quickly jumps in, wrapping her arms around me tightly from behind, stopping me from moving closer.

"We're supposed to be incognito, remember?" I think that plan went straight out the window when we decided to have a kegger and openly allowed our sworn enemies to join. There is nothing incognito about anything that is happening right now.

'Fight!'

I wriggle in Kie's arms as I helplessly watch Topper kick John B in the gut, pushing him into the ice-cold water again.

'Fight!'

The crowd around us seems to be getting bigger and bigger. My ears ringing at the excessive chanting.

'Fight!'

John B tumbles around the waves, trying to get up to his feet again, but Topper won't let him. Kicking him again whilst he's still down.

"Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, alright?"

'Fight!'

Call it blind rage or whatever the hell you want, but I cannot describe to you the way that Topper's words stopped my heart. It felt like I was stabbed. My constant thrashing caused Kie's arms to give in with tiredness.

Maniacally, my wild eyes search the mob as a preditor would their prey. I spot it, grasped between the fingers of a stranger. Pulling the bottle harshly from their hands, my breathing becoming erratic as I stumble my way down to the oceanfront. My sight set on my target.

"Mason!"

"No! Macy stop,"

"May!"

The calling of my name went in one ear and out the other. The only sound I could hear was the smashing of the bottle as it collided with Topper's head. The beach seemed to fall into silence. For a moment all I could hear was my blooding pumping through my veins. I can feel my heart in my throat.

I feel frozen in time. Unable to move as I watch the shards of glass dance under the yellow moonlight. The water rushing past my ankles. My feet sinking into the wet sand. My breath is uneven. The sharp bottle top that I was clutching tightly, slips through my fingers, getting washed away by the tide.

Topper, after a few seconds of blank staring, feels the crown of his head. Turning around, fingers stained red. His dead, black eyes piercing into mine, filled with unwavering bewilderment.

I want to blame the alcohol, or the cold, for the way my knees are chittering, but after seeing my brother get punched, I became stone-cold sober. I refuse to blink, not wanting to look away from the boy that is making his way slowly over to me.

My voice seems to be gone, holding my hands out pathetically, not wanting him to come any closer. My cheeks flushed red at the cold whipping winds. My eyes stinging with moisture as I wait for him to react.

The crashing of the waves and the chanting of the crowd become audible to my ears again. My face being pushed into someone's chest, pulling me away before John B could tackle a distracted Topper to the ground.

Fists smashing with flesh. Grunts, groans, and drunken cheers polluting the air. It was too much.

My lungs struggling to grasp a sliver of air, all in a state of panic. My ear pressed firmly against the person's chest, listening to the drumming of their heartbeat. My hands tucked tightly around the fabric of their shirt, just wanting to feel something.

My vision blurred as I watch Topper push my brothers face into the water, "He's drowning him," I swallow the lump in my throat, whispering in horror, watching my twin thrash around helplessly. It doesn't feel real.

A shiver dances it way up my spine, barely registering that it was JJ that was holding me before he passes my quivering figure over to an accepting Kie.

"Yeah, you know what that is," I hear JJ say, but I had enough for the night. Hiding my face in the crook of Kie's neck, forcing my eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore. But I didn't have to see it. I heard it. The gentle click of the safety seemed to echo across the silent beach, "Your move, broski."

'He's got a gun.'

The sound of pounding footsteps falls into rhythm with my erratic heartbeat. I could hear the blood rushing to my ears. My whole body feels like its on fire. My chest feels like it's going to explode. I can't breathe.

'Don't make me drown you like your old man.'

Something's wrong with me.

I can feel it welling up inside me.

It won't go away.

I didn't realise I was standing on my own again until my knees gave in. My head pounding on beat with the gunshots.

"John B!"

"May!"

Chapter Four: FIN!

A bit of a long chapeter, but I didn’t want to split it.

This was fun to write. Clearly Mason has some insecurities when it comes to being left out, or thinking that people don’t trust her. And this with be explored the further we go. There is a reason behind this fear.

I really struggled to write the fight scene, but I hope I got the general point across.

What did you think?

The next chapter will be the end of episode one. I feel like I’ve been writing for ages, but we still have another 9 episodes to go...

I hope you enjoyed that chapter <3

Also. if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

*TAGLIST*

@xshinytrashcanx @prejudic3 @annoylinglyaries @obxlife @bananasfromtarget

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.43 prt.1

Keith slept like a log. When Lance had left so suddenly it’d taken Matt to make him realise what was happening. Forced into conversation, it’d been nearly an hour before he headed upstairs to check on Lance. Finding his boyfriend asleep and the sweet smell lingering in the room, he grabbed a blanket off the bed and stuffed it along the bottom of the door to keep the scent in. Shooting Shiro a quick text to let him know Lance was “sick”, Keith hoped that Shiro got his implied message. Stripping off to his underwear, Keith slid under the blankets where Lance immediately moved to cuddle him, mumbling his name as he wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist. Why couldn’t Shiro see this side of Lance? Sure, he might be a vampire, but he really was stupidly sweet. Not used to sleeping with someone like this, Keith had expected to spend the night tossing and turning, or even to be plagued with nightmares as usual, instead he woke to find himself spooned up with Lance curled around him.

Letting Lance sleep a little longer, Keith wasn’t looking forward to crawling out of bed. He would have stayed with his boyfriend but his bladder had other ideas, Lance stirring as he lifted his arm from around his waist

“Keith?”

“Bathroom”

“Mmm... ‘kay”

Using Lance’s bathroom felt like a privilege. Keith making sure he hadn’t made a mess before stumbling back to bed. Lance had woken up properly, but that didn’t mean he’d gotten out of bed. Crawling back onto the bed, Lance automatically reached for him, Keith too uncaffinated to feel embarrassed or protest as he climbed into Lance’s hold. Kissing his cheek, Lance sighed as he leaned against Keith

“Good morning”

“Mmm...”

“I know. You haven’t had your coffee yet. Do you have enough energy for me to cuddle?”

“Mhmm”

Lance kissed his cheek again

“Thanks for being here when I woke up. I know you’re not used to it and I’m not used to it, but I really needed a hug”

Turning his head, Keith pressed a kiss to Lance’s lips. Lance blushing slightly as he did

“It’s okay... are you okay?”

“Yeah... I slept like the dead”

Keith groaned at Lance. It was too early for his shenanigans

“Didn’t like that one? I’ll keep it in mind. Let’s get you your coffee. Everyone else is already up”

Lance laughed at him as Keith struggled into a pair of the vampire’s jeans and a shirt. Though he would have been fine wearing the clothes he’d had on the day before. Keith glaring the best glare he could manage, mind firmly on his coffee, as Lance went about getting dressed, Keith made to not peak as he changed underwear. Not that he was going to peak. Lance had nothing to be ashamed of down there, but there was a fresh wave sweetness that lasted a few seconds, making them both blush for no damn reason. Keith wasn’t a natural born blusher, yet it seemed to just happen around Lance. Managing to look far more presentable than Keith did, his boyfriend was annoying like that.

Yawning as they entered the kitchen, Keith ignored everyone as he made a beeline for the coffee machine, only to be irritated that his normal cup wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Sharing a house was already proving annoying. He didn’t like it. That wasn’t to say he didn’t like Matt and Rieva... he just liked things better when people didn’t interrupt his coffee routine. Glancing back to Lance, he found he’d already ducked out, leaving him with no support over his stolen cup

“How’d you sleep, kiddo?”

Keith grunted at Shiro. He didn’t deserve words until Keith got his damn cup of coffee

“It’s like watching Pidge in the morning”

“Keith isn’t functional until he’s had his coffee”

“Pidge is like a demon. She’d literally bite ankles if she could get away with it”

“Keith is too. He bit me once for moving his coffee”

“Oh, man. That’s just too good”

Matt and Shiro both seemed in excellent moods as they talked about him. That was something. Yesterday had been draining and he didn’t want a repeat.

“What are we talking about?”

Keith felt himself blushing as Lance walked in. His boyfriend didn’t need to know he was being teased

“Keith is acting like Pidge”

“Pidge is worse. Keith isn’t as snarky as she gets. You guys eat?”

Lance seemed happy enough replying to Matt. Hopefully that was a good sign

“Yeah. We helped ourselves. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. I meant it’s your house too now. If there anything in particular you don’t eat or we need, let me know. I promise I don’t bite”

Matt laughed, even his laugh sounded like Pidge’s. Keith now wondering if she was on her second cup with her laptop in front of her. It seemed highly likely

“Honestly, there’s not a lot we don’t eat. What about you?”

“Blood three times a day and I eat. I think there’s a conversation we need to have too over what happened last night”

Keith froze. He felt like Lance was pushing himself when it came to the subject he thought his boyfriend had in mind. It meant confiding in strangers, which he wasn’t good at. He didn’t dare turn around as he watched his coffee finally coming out the machine and into the inferior cup he’d taken off the hook

“Did we do something wrong?”

“No. It’s just... It might make things complicated and hearing you react last night really drove home how awkward this might be”

“Man, you’re scaring me now”

There was the scraping of a chair, meaning Lance had sat. Keith felt like he should do something, but he didn’t know what

“It’s not you, it’s me... Wow, I didn’t think I’d be using that line so early in the morning... so... um... I’m not a normal vampire”

“You can’t turn into a bat or hypnotise humans to do your will?”

Lance snorted

“I can turn into a bat... not a very good bat... No, it’s, um... I’m a vampire, but... um... I get flushes like a werewolf... in heat. It’s from drinking human blood. Well, from drinking Keith’s blood. You know what it’s like when you turn, so I’ve been trying to live as humanly as possible... I didn’t go out of my way to find out much about that side of things. I thought I had a handle on it... but Keith was the first human I ever drank from... and his blood changed my body. You caught my scent last night... and fuck this is embarrassing. I’m a breeder...”

Lance’s words hung in the air, Keith finally able to move again. Turning, he found himself walking to Lance’s side, and placing his hand on his shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone

“... and I’m kind of dating Keith”

Matt gaped at the pair of them. Shiro didn’t say anything, which Keith was grateful for

“Pidge never told me that”

“Pidge doesn’t know. That I’m a vampire or that I’m dating Keith. I don’t want to make a big fuss out it. But I really wanted to explain so there wasn’t a misunderstanding on why I left the room the way I did”

“So you go into heat?”

“Basically... My body is still adjusting to it. I didn’t think I could get any weirder but here we are. That’s why Curtis is here. In case I get sick again, or turn into a bat again. It’s not something I can control”

Matt snorted. Keith felt like punching him until he shook his head, he must have been glaring at the man

“Lance, dude, that’s not that weird. You’re in a room with two werewolves, and a cursed guy. We get it. We don’t really talk about heats outside of with our mates, but now things make sense. It’s cool, dude. We’ll show you a good time if you ever...”

Rieva slapped the back of her boyfriend’s head

“Ignore him. He doesn’t get it. If you need help managing your heats, we can talk”

Keith felt like he was invisible. He was the one trying to help Lance with that

“Hey, does that mean you’re boning Shiro’s little brother?”

“We’re not having sex... and that’s fine. My body isn’t stable”

“Damn Keith, you’ve got some balls being with a vampire. Make sure you keep his fangs away from your junk. Shiro, you didn’t let me know about this. You must be freaking out”

Shiro sighed

“Keith and I talked, then Lance I talked. They both know I don’t want either of them going through something like what happened to Adam”

“What happened to Adam was messed up, but Lance seems to have his shit together better than any of us. Plus, he can cook, so Keith isn’t gonna starve, and he’s got a house and job. At least he’s not doing crack in some back alley”

“This is true...”

Matt pulled a face at Shiro

“You’re a right royal arsehole when you travel. You should have seen him in Platt. Zero patience. I thought that orange haired dude was gonna have a coronary”

“I wasn’t that bad”

“You punched the elevator wall because you tripped into it”

That sounded like Shiro was stressed rather than just being cranky from a long flight

“It had it coming”

“Basically you were a dick and now you’re embarrassed. I can smell it on you”

“Fuck off. He’s my brother. I’m allowed to be worried”

“As long as you’re not dooming things. Patience yields focus... so focus on having some patience and not bringing the vibe down”

Keith had to hide his smile behind his hand. Shiro was being put in his place by Matt the same way Adam would have. It was easy to see the absolute worst in people after the shit they’d seen. One time they’d been on a hunt and the vampire caught wind of them. It left its human pets behind, Keith taking months to get over that. There was something even more fucked up about it feeding on children. The memory still made him queasy and his nightmares had been out of control over it. Back in their old apartment there’d been a bullet hole left in wardrobe thanks to him leaving his gun beside his bed before falling asleep. Adam had been pissed for days over it. Keith then forbidden from having his gun in his room, instead it went in to the safe in the hallway.

“You’re making me feel old here”

“Don’t start with that. We’re the same again”

“Technically I’m the older here, so you’ve got nothing to worry about, Shiro. There’s hope for you left”

With how negative Shiro had been, Keith expected him to snap at Lance. Instead his brother shook his head, looking like he’d been ganged up on. It wasn’t so funny when the teasing was happening to him

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better?”

Lance shrugged as he undid the cap on his bag of blood

“Whelp. I tried. Keith, your coffee’s going to get cold. Now, Matt, please tell me I don’t have to lie to Pidge for much longer. She always comes by on the weekends, she’s actually past due for a visit this week. I want to let Hunk know ahead of time, so he can be here too”

Keith went back to his coffee, some one had been at his milk. He had enough for two coffees left despite the fact they’d been shopping with Curtis. He wasn’t happy as he rationed his milk carefully, before carrying the cup over to the table to sit by Lance. His boyfriend was still on guard but Keith could tell he was feeling better now that he’s confused his secret. Keith quietly proud of him

“Tomorrow morning. Call Hunk and let him know. I probably need your number too while I’m at it”

“Sure. So what are you planning on doing today?”

“Shiro insisting on training to better protect ourselves. Maybe we can answer that age old question?”

“Which is?”

“Are vampires really that strong?”

Lance rolled his eyes

“Remember you said that when I’ve wiped the floor with you, Fido”

“Hey, Keith why don’t you stick your hand up his arse and count to ten. This over stretched muppet’s got no clue”

Lance groaned at Matt

“Dude... don’t bring the muppets into this. Though Curtis would be the Chef. No idea what he’s doing in the kitchen and I’m sure he’s make copious amounts of spaghetti if he could”

Curtis sighed, not wanting to be dragged into this

“You kill one toaster and they never let you forget it”

“Nope”

Keith wasn’t sure about this. Curtis warned Lance not to push himself, Lance simply declaring this to be “his weeks worth of physical activity”, before starting to stretch. Sitting in the backyard, Shiro and Rieva sat by him. Curtis would be the referee and Rieva would jump in if Matt got too carried away. Keith was quietly trying not to interfere, telling himself that this was Lance accepting how Matt wanted to bond. Catching his eye, Lance winked at him. Keith realising Lance hadn’t taken his glasses off. The idiot was on his way to breaking another pair

“Lance, glasses!”

Practically smacking himself in the face, his boyfriend pulled his glasses off, jogging over to Keith

“Good call. Look after them for me”

“Don’t make me regret this”

“Look at as a chance to make you fall for my fine Cuban arse all over again”

Keith wasn’t having it

“You hate combat”

“Yeah... but it’s an ego thing... Besides, we’ve got rules. No breaking anything and no going for the throat. Oh, you better take my jacket too”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when it hurts later”

“I will”

Lance looked like a video game character as he bounced on the ball of his feet. Curtis didn’t seem pleased to be between two supernatural creatures

“Ready?”

Lance nodded, Matt adopting his own pose. Keith waited for the video game announcer voice to come from no where... unfortunately it didn’t

“Yep”

“Bring it Dracula”

“No changing shape, wolf boy”

“I won’t need to”

“Remember that when Rieva’s patching you back up”

“That’s some pretty feisty talk from a virgin”

“What can I say? I believe in true love... and kicking your arse”

“I’ll believe it when I see it”

“Oh, it is so on”

Curtis retreated half a dozen steps backwards

“Okay. Don’t kill each other. Fight!”

Both males circled as they sized each other up. Matt growling at Lance, Lance’s fang emerging as his facial expression changed. His eyes changing from their brilliant blue to something darker, almost completely black as pupils dilated. Keith felt a stab of fear. Lance looked as if he’d let his ego go completely, Matt baring his teeth at the threat

“All bark and no bite?”

“You’re not going to beat me”

“No. You’d have to throw a punch first. If you wanna tuck your tail between your legs and run along, I won’t tell”

“Arsehole!”

Matt let Lance provoke him into the first swing. Lance blocking as he leapt back

“You’re going to lose if you can’t hit me”

Starting to circle again, it felt like a weird dance between the two of them. Lance could be a pain in the arse, practically an expert at avoiding physically attacking. Keith was worried that his boyfriend wouldn’t know what to do. Lance’s fighting experience of late had been fighting him

“Fine. I won’t hold back. You don’t hold back either”

Not holding back put everyone in danger. Matt and Lance going for each other too fast for Keith to catch up. One stage Matt was on the defence and the next he was throwing Lance across the yard... which Lance didn’t take too kindly too. His whole feel changed. His teeth bared as he smiled, nails elongated, and he seemed taller than Keith remembered. He was cold. And he was distant. This was the side himself that Lance feared. The two were back at it again, Keith had a mind to stop this. Lance hated senseless violence and this couldn’t be good for his mental health. Catching Matt as he lunged, Lance wrapped his legs around the man, head butting him hard. Matt grabbing Lance by the waist to slam him down, only for Lance’s legs to end up wrapped around Matt’s neck, hands pulling on the werewolf’s hair. Matt’s hands found their way to Lance’s throat, dropping to his knees as smashing Lance’s head against the ground. Beneath him, Lance went limp as Keith went cold. They weren’t supposed to do serious harm to each other. Matt immediately releasing Lance’s neck, only for Lance to draw himself backwards, kneeing Matt in the chin as he did. Keith hadn’t even seen how Lance managed it. The Cuban joked about being flexible, but this was something else. Snarling, Matt’s internal chain on his wolf snapped. The man changing shape and lunging at Lance. Rieva was tackling him down before Keith could shout in warning.

Laying on the grass, propped nip on his elbows, Lance watched as Rieva changed into her wolf, pining Matt down and snarling at him. Changing back to his human form, Matt looked a little sheepish as he cranes his neck to see Lance

“You good man?”

“Yep. You?”

“Yep. Tie?”

“Yep”

“Okay. Babe, you can get off me now”

Rieva turned back, Keith looking away from where she and Matt were. Both too naked and too casual about the whole thing

“Idiot. What have I told you about you wolf?!”

Matt whined pathetically

“I didn’t mean too”

“I don’t care. You need to control yourself”

“I was having fun. We were having fun, right, Lance?”

Lance flopped back, hand coming up to shield his eyes

“Sorry, you’re own your own with this one. I don’t like fighting at the best of times. Between you and Keith I’ve learned so many new moves I don’t think I wanted to learn. I like peace and not exercising... ugh... I think I’m dead”

“Dude, you’re already dead”

“Fair... I’m going to take a bath”

Keith watched Lance climb to his feet. His boyfriend swaying a little before limping over to him. Something inside Keith coiled away in fear of never having seen Lance like this. His heart was racing from raw power of the fight

“I won’t touch you, there’s blood and that’s dangerous. Can I have my glasses and my jacket?”

“Oh... sure... do you need help getting to the house?”

“Nah. You say and enjoy the sun”

Keith didn’t know if Lance had seen the fear in him, but he hoped he hadn’t. The fight had stirred up other emotions in him, other than his fear over Lance’s mental health. Taking a deep breath, he couldn’t quite catch it. Emotions over Adam too strong to stomp down. The fight has been so fast. The grass torn up from the force behind each twist and move. Adam never would have stood a chance... but if Adam had survived the turn why couldn’t he fight back? How had Shiro survived with simply getting scarred?

“Keith?”

Shiro’s voice was gentle, his brother asking if he was okay in just the use of his name

“I’m heading back up to the house”

Keith could hear Blue yowling as the sat himself down on the stairs. Burying his face in his hands, he fought to control his breathing. He hasn’t pushed Shiro on the death of Adam. He hadn’t pushed him and now all these questions wouldn’t shut up. Blue sounded worried, her cries getting louder and louder, Keith feeling he needed to find her, even if it was just to make himself feel better for doing something. Heading upstairs, Keith followed Blue’s unhappy cries to Lance’s bathroom door. Scratching on the wood, the feline was begging her human master to be let in, Keith crouching down to scoop her up where she immediately bit his hand

“You don’t want to go in there. There’s water in there”

Blue protested hard, Keith opening the door and the cat immediately jumping from his arms to the tiled floor

“Keith?”

“Sorry, Blue wanted in”

“I heard... Hey, can you come in here for a moment?”

It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

Slipping into the bathroom, Keith closed the door behind him. Blue was standing with her paws on the edge of the bath, Lance buried in a mound of bubbles. Keith wasn’t sure if he was supposed to look at his boyfriend or not

“What’s up?”

“Can we talk?”

“Aren’t we already?”

Lance huffed, turning his head towards him. The vampire sporting a rather impressive black eye, Keith’s breath catching at the sight

“It doesn’t hurt. Just... I need to... I need to talk to you and I’m worried”

Keith swallowed, nodding before heading over to sit on the toilet on lid

“What is it?”

“I... I want to apologise for upsetting you”

“You...”

“I did. I did and I know I did. You’ve been worried about me since this morning, but I still went ahead and fought with Matt, like I didn’t respect your feelings. I kind of want... I want to explain things to you”

Keith shook his head

“You don’t have to”

“I do. I do because you’re important to me. What you saw today, that was ego. Matt losing control, me losing control. That was ego. Last night I was pretty upset at the situation. About everything. Me. Us. This body. While you were getting dressed I was gathering up my bravery to tell him. You know that drive. How you train yourself until you feel satisfied and you hurt in a good way... feeding my ego is kind of like that need. It’s not but it is. My ego and his would kept clashing, so I told myself that if he suggested it, I’d agree. What I didn’t think about was you... and I feel like a douche for it. I know I scared you... I scared me when I saw my face... and I’m... I’m sorry”

Keith blinked half a dozen times. Feeling mad at Lance for not talking to him ahead of time. He had scared him. And he’d been scared for him. He’d thought his heart was going to stop when Matt changed shape. Lance was prepared for it, and he wasn’t

“Why couldn’t you talk to me?”

“We kind of...”

“You didn’t make the effort before deciding everything yourself”

“Keith...”

“No. You let yourself be hurt knowing it’d hurt you more than physically!”

Fuck. Fuck. He didn’t want to snap, but he couldn’t get the right words out

“I’m sorry”

“I was worried about you and now you have other friends here to talk to instead”

That’s not what he wanted to say. He wanted to question why there couldn’t have been another way. Lance didn’t need to train with other people when he had him

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welcometoels · 3 years

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Session Fourteen - Dragonhall

Though she may be a full foot taller, with pointier ears, darker hair and an overall more High Elf vibe, the person standing before the party is definitely Zanthia, and she has plans for everyone.

The guards at their target location - Dragonhall - are all High Elves, so a certain amount of disguising is going to be required. Anemia, Talion and Cailynn all need the least work - the right amount of foundation and a silver cloak will be sufficient.

For Kadis, Zanthia dips into her wardrobe of disguises. A pair of false pointy ears under the right wig fits the bill. She also has a peek under his eye cover, then has second thoughts. Something about those eyes is just too peculiar to pass for Elven.

Oddsock, she leaves pretty much as he is, though she does swap out the top hat and monocle for a silver cape. He keeps the bowtie.

It’s Julius who presents the most difficulty. No amount of makeup, cloaks or fake ears will make an Otter look like an Elf. For this job, she positions Julius in front of her largest mirror, and - quite literally - works her magic.

With her left palm upon her mask pendant, and her right on Julius’ head, Zanthia utters a few words of power, and the druid begins to change: his skin becomes smoother, paler and less hairy, and his body more slender and willowy. In a matter of moments, Julius the Otter is now Julius the Elf - though his hair still has that wet look.

Now everyone looks the part, the group heads to the stables on the edge of town - Julius staring in disbelief at his new hands all the way. At the stables, the same miserable administrator who greeted them at the other side of town meets them once again, with the same charm and vigour. He take a slightly soggy horse receipt from Mr O Sock, and fetches a pair of horses.

Zanthia also produces a ticket, and more horses are produced. Two of them are much the same as the others, even down to their names, but the last is altogether fancier, darker and shorter.

Zanthia mounts this last horse, while the rest of the party finds room on the other four. Oddsock and Julius listen in on the horse chat as they ride, and they become a little concerned about that little one...

His name is Storm Hellflayer, and he has seen things that would turn your mind to soup. He doesn’t care who you are, or where you’re from - he only wants to know one thing:

Do you have any sugarlumps?

Julius reaches into his pack and pulls out a handful of sweet grass, which Storm accepts begrudgingly.

After a short while, the group arrives at Dragonhall - a well-appointed, two storey building surrounded by trees, just on the outer outskirts of Monthend. They park their steeds in a small copse - with Storm positioning himself a little away from the others.

A couple of guards stand at the front, and the group hesitantly introduces themselves as the night shift. The guards are suspicious at first, but send them through to talk to the boss - a man called Wandbutt.

Wandbutt is a grizzled old veteran who takes an immediate dislike to the team - not least because they use what they innocently thought was his actual name, but which is actually an insulting nickname that refers back to a moment of youthful misadventure.

He grills the group thoroughly. While he is a little uncertain about the slick-haired individual who calls himself Julius P Manman, he is more concerned about the blind gentleman. Kadis assures Wandbutt that his other senses are honed to perfection, and Wandbutt tests this by throwing an apple straight at his face.

Without the slightest fumble, Kadis snags the fruit from the air, and nonchalantly takes a bite. Wandbutt is sold, and promptly packs up his belongings from the reception desk, and leaves.

Once the actual guards are gone, Zanthia lays out her plan: She and Anemia will break into the basement cells, via a locked door at the back; Talion should go upstairs to check for information on the dragon hunters, and the others should split themselves throughout the rest of the building, with at least one person on the door as lookout.

Julius - the most perceptive of the bunch - takes door duty, while Cailynn joins Talion upstairs. Kadis opts to stay on the ground floor to check the rooms there. Oddsock offers his help in unlocking the door, since his Acid Splash was - in his mind - super effective in the past, but Zanthia assures him that his expertise is best employed elsewhere.

Initially feeling snubbed, Oddsock swiftly bounces back once he smells food under a nearby door. After a bit of trial and error involving a doorknob, Oddsock finds some leftover chicken on a breakroom table, and successfully navigates the bones to enjoy a nice snack.

Upstairs, Talion and Cailynn opt to explore the upstairs from the back. They enter a plush room, dominated by a heavy wooden desk with an enormous chair behind it, and a tiny wee stool in front.

Talion, mindful of traps, successfully avoids them all - not a difficult task, since there aren’t any. Cailynn makes a beeline for some shelves at the back, finding a handful of trophies - sporting, commerce, and, yes, hunting trophies - and several carefully bound bundles of paperwork.

Downstairs, Kadis investigates the reception desk. At first, he sees nothing - visual perception is still not his strong suit, thanks to the imperfect psychic connection with his pet Beholder. Using his fingers, though, he finds an interesting message carved into the desk: Wandbutt Is A Twat. Curious...

Outside, Julius carefully sets Rupert the fey weasel down on the ground, and begins to see the world through his beady eyes. Rupert dashes down the side of the building, enjoying the feel of the grass on his belly and the fading warmth of the evening sun, and offering little of actual use.

Back at the fancy room upstairs, Talion and Cailynn finish up their exploration. There is nothing under the desk but dust bunnies, and the trophies are only gold in appearance - pretty much a bust all round. However, Cailynn does find mention of Banto’s Machinations & Artifices in one of the bound bundles, and tucks it into her pack as they leave the room.

Next up, they explore the largest room upstairs. This one is noticeably less impressive, and packed with desks and shelves. As they investigate, they find very little, though there is a calendar with a picture of a boy in a wizard’s hat in front of a building called Midvale College For The Wise. There’s a door with “PULL” written on it, and his pushing as hard as he can, and it’s all very amusing.

On the groundmost floor, Kadis is exploring the largest room, after checking in with the others via his enchanted necklace. In there, he finds a large bank of desks all lined in a row, and a few pieces of uninspiring art. Using touch in the hopes of discovering more hidden messages, he discovers only a splinter in his finger.

We leave Kadis contemplating his digits, and the bent arrow motifs on the walls - exactly the same as the ones in the dog-defiled church in town - and rejoin Rupert as he skitters round to the back of the building. For a moment, he thinks he hears a owl, but it is a false alarm. Thank goodness for that.

Oddsock, having thoroughly removed all of the food from the break room, has a good snuffle around, and notices that the previously locked door is now sat open, and Zanthia and Anemia are nowhere to be seen. Popping through the door, he is momentarily stunned by a huge explosion from downstairs.

Kadis hears it from the big room. Talion and Cailynn hear it upstairs, in the drab little meeting room they are exploring. Julius hears it outside, and, presumably, so do the guards who are now approaching along the path.

Oddsock dashes down the stairs to find out what happened, and discovers the body of Anemia Rixme, crushed against a pillar behind an iron door. Allowing his eyes to wander, he soon finds the gap that the door use to fill - a huge iron cell, much like a jail cell, but filled with money and valuables rather than people.

He also sees Zanthia, hunched over and stuffing gold into a bag, grumbling to herself about the idiot thief who couldn't even disarm a trapped door properly. It is at this point that Oddsock begins to doubt that this was ever a rescue mission.

Being a dog of simple motivations though, he is much more interested in the stuff in the cage. Zanthia is too busy shovelling cash into a sack to really care what Oddsock is up to, so he sniffs around.

Immediately, something catches his attention: A book, which is giving off a powerful magical aura - an aura that makes his fur stand on end and his toy dragon squeak. The only thing he can make out on it is a name on the front: Sre’Yalp - the same name as the Codex where he stores his additional cantrips. He levitates it into his pack for later perusal.

Out at the front, Rupert joins up with Julius, and the Otter man - disguised as an Elf man called Manman - looks directly at an actual Elf who is dressed head to toe in armour, and who is demanding explanations. Julius panics and tries to talk his way out of it, but this knight-looking individual is having none of it. He briefly turns to his companions - the two guards from before, Wandbutt, and a peaky-looking Herrington - and then looks back at Julius, ushering him inside to gather up his accomplices.

As they enter, Julius does something unexpectedly sneaky. Touching a temporarily non-paw hand to his necklace, he thanks the “reinforcements” for turning up to help find the source of the explosion.

Kadis immediately understands the message, and secretes himself around a corner, while Talion and Cailynn pause at the foot of the stairs, just out of sight of the door, and Talion casts Mirror Image on himself to help in the inevitable fight. He also blesses Cailynn with her first taste of Bardic Inspiration.

Oddsock’s ears prick up at the sound of Julius’ voice, but before he can dash away, Zanthia asks him to do something - put his paw on his necklace. After a little fumble, he does so, and she leans in as close as she can, saying, with a soft purr:

“See you, dragon boy”

And with that, she kisses one of her rings, and vanishes, leaving a baffled Oddsock to rush upstairs, where all hell is about to break loose.

As Oddsock emerges from the cellar door to join Kadis at the corner, Talion and Cailynn emerge from the stairs, and the artificer summons a plume of smoke from a hallway candelabra.

The scene is set for a rumble. Let’s find out how it goes - NEXT TIME.

#dnd #5e #dnd homebrew

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kelyon · 4 years

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Game: A Golden Cuffs Story, Chapter One: Curse

A month after their wedding, Belle asks Rumpelstiltskin if he'd like to indulge in one of their old favorite ways of passing the time.

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Belle kept most of her riding clothes on before going up to the tower to see Rumpelstiltskin.

When she was a girl in her father’s house, Belle had only been able to go out riding when there were no other obligations--and even then she’d had to be accompanied by her ladies and at least a few servants. Her horse then had been a docile gray mare who had been trained not to jump or even gallop, no matter how Belle had tried to spur the creature on. She’d had to ride sidesaddle in a dress, the only way that was proper for a young lady.

But she wasn’t a young lady anymore. Now she was a woman, the wife of the Dark One, protected by his magic and free to do as she pleased. She had bought a horse with gold coins her husband had created from nothing.

Philippe was only a farm horse, not fast, but strong and unflappable. Every morning, after waking up in her bed with her husband beside her, Belle went out for some exercise. She rode in a regular saddle with both legs astride the horse--not like a lady, but like a person in control of their own destiny.

To aid in her mobility, Rumpelstiltskin had fashioned riding clothes for her. The two of them had experimented with giving her divided skirts and different sorts of habits, but eventually it was decided that tight-fitting trousers worked best. He had made her a dozen pairs in different colors and various blends of wool and linen.

When it got colder, Belle planned to ask her husband for a pair of leather breeches. Even if they proved impractical for riding, she wanted to see if such an ensemble would flatter her body as much as it did his.

For now, in these lovely summer months, it was good to get outside every day. Atop Philippe, Belle explored the forests and mountains that surrounded Rumpelstiltskin’s castle. The woods were rich with life. Walking slowly through the trees, Belle looked for birds and deer and bears. Sometimes she even caught the morning sun glinting off a dew-covered spiderweb. She had no fear of anything in the forest. Rumple’s magic kept away supernatural creatures, and animals rarely attacked something that was no threat to them.

Humans were less understanding.

When she had first started going out, Belle had tried to visit the little town at the base of the mountain. She had thought that she might make friends with the townsfolk, at least with the innkeeper and his wife. But she soon realized how uneasy her presence made people.

Anyone who saw her coming down from the Dark One’s castle tended to avoid speaking to her unless she spoke to them first. Even then, they kept their eyes downcast and their voices were strained with fear. All of them gave her and Philippe a wide berth, moving to the opposite side of the street as they approached. Children gawked at her from windows until adult hands pulled them back out of sight. Belle couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that the villagers started talking about her as soon as her back was turned.

She hadn’t even told anyone that she had married Rumpelstiltskin. Simply being associated with him was enough to ostracize her from polite company.

So she kept to the forest, and kept to the castle. She stayed close to her husband and her home. There were people in the various worlds who loved her and understood her, and those were the relationships she cherished. No one else’s opinion mattered.

Still, she enjoyed her rides. It was pleasant to have an activity of her own, something that took her away from Rumple for a few hours every day. And every time, the brief separation made their reunion that much sweeter.

“I’m home!” Belle announced as she entered the castle after putting Philippe away in the stables. Rumple knew she was back, of course. He knew everything that happened in his home, and he’d told her that he kept watch over her while she was out and about.

But declaring her presence meant more than merely stating a fact. When she said those words to Rumple, she was telling him that the castle was her home and she was happy to be there with him. She told him that she was well, that she wanted to talk to him, that she wanted him to want her around.

She told him that she loved him.

She made her way to the landing that held the door to their bedroom and to the tower where Rumple worked most of his magic. Belle stopped by the bedroom just long enough to take off her light riding coat. The lilac-colored garment was damp with sweat and the castle air felt deliciously cool against her loose linen undershirt.

Belle hung her coat in her wardrobe, knowing that it would be clean and pressed the next time she wanted to wear it. She kept on her brown riding boots and trousers. Rumple had never said anything out loud, but she had seen the way his eyes lingered over the shape of her legs, even when they were covered in cloth.

When she removed the linen kerchief at her throat it exposed the openness of her shirt and just a hint of her bosom. The white fabric was thin and her perspiration had made it almost translucent. She thought about removing her stays before she went up to see Rumple, but decided against it.

She never needed a riding crop for Philippe, but sometimes she wished she had one, for special occasions.

To cover up any unpleasant odors of sweat and horse, Belle pulled out a jar of perfume and sat down at her vanity to put it on. The jar itself was a work of art--a cube of cut crystal in a red so dark it might have been carved from a ruby. She set the top of the jar next to a sapphire-blue pyramid that contained a different liquid fragrance. Belle dipped her fingers into the red jar and swiped up a few drops of perfume.

If anyone asked her what the perfume smelled like, she would have told them roses. But in truth, this scent was almost nothing like the flowers that had bloomed around the castle gates on her wedding day. This perfume was the soul of roses, or roses in love, sultry and deep. Only magic could create this smell of heat, of desire, of a living, primal need.

She felt that heat in her cheeks and her chest before she even began to apply the perfume. With a light touch, she swept the scent over her wrists and her neck. One drop rolled down her throat into the valley between her breasts. The sensation made Belle shiver.

As a final touch, Belle untied the ribbon that bound her hair and shook it loose over her shoulders. Running her fingers through the curls, she coated them with the last of the perfume--Rumple had never given her a hairbrush of her own. Then, she tied the lilac ribbon back around her hair, but loosely, so the bow could be undone at a moment’s notice.

Even by her vanity, there were no mirrors in the castle. She usually didn’t miss them. If the Evil Queen could use mirrors as her spies, it was better to keep them covered. But every now and again, Belle would have liked to inspect her own appearance. Particularly on those occasions when she wanted to look especially alluring.

When she got to the foot of the stairs, Belle called to her husband. “Is it safe to come up?”

This was another sentence that meant so much more than the mere words would imply. When Belle asked if something was safe, she was telling her husband that she trusted him. She was telling him she knew he might have more knowledge than her, and that she relied on him to protect her from harm, that she would follow his guidance if he told her to stay away. She was telling him that she loved him.

And when Rumple’s voice came down the steps as “Yes, sweetheart,” Belle knew that he was really telling her that she was welcome in his place, in his work. He was telling her that he wanted her around him, that her presence was better than solitude. He was telling her that he loved her.

Did all couples speak to each other in a code like this, or was it only that she had married a man who lived by riddles and hidden meanings?

Either way, Belle went up the stairs to be with him.

Rumpelstiltskin was standing in front of his work table. As Belle approached, she saw him taking off a pair of dragonhide gloves and a leather apron. He pulled a beaked mask away from his face. She knew he didn’t need those protections, but he wore them so he wouldn’t have to take the time to decontaminate himself of any dangerous magic before he touched her.

The room smelled faintly of char, but there was no sign of a fire or an explosion. Several books lay open on the table, and there were beakers and vials full of brightly-colored substances. Some of the liquids floated in their bottles, while others glowed with pulsing light. In the center of the table there was a glass dome on top of an iron plate. The plate and the dome were bound together by iron chains and inside the dome something moved.

Rumple greeted Belle with a soft kiss and wrapped his arms around her waist. He sniffed at her perfume, but didn’t mention it. “How was your ride?”

She snuggled into his embrace, rubbing the scent onto his clothes. They didn’t kiss again, but they knew they could. “It got hot once the sun burned off the morning mist. I’m almost surprised that you allow the summer sun to enter your domain.”

“A bit of sunshine is good for the complexion.” He grinned at her, his green skin sparkling.

Belle giggled, less because his quip was that funny and more because she was so happy. “And how is my husband?”

He pressed his lips to her forehead and breathed in slowly. “Better, now that my wife is in my arms.”

“Better?” Belle rested her hands on his shoulders. “Were things not good enough before? Is your work troubling you?”

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. “It’s nothing urgent,” he said. “Nothing that must be done or else there will be catastrophic consequences. But I thought I might try something and the results were not as I had hoped.”

Turning to the table, Belle broke their embrace. She stayed close enough to keep her body against his. Rumple kept one hand on her hip, slowly caressing the light brown fabric of her riding trousers. His mind was no longer on his magic. However, Belle had suddenly become curious.

“What is it that you’ve got trapped under the glass?”

The moving thing was a strip of darkness, smaller than the length of her hand. The smell of burning seemed to emanate from it. The edges of the thing wavered and sparked, like some sort of black flame. It darted in every direction around the dome, searching endlessly, relentlessly. There was an aura of malice around it that was more than just the wriggling tendrils of death-colored magic.

Slowly, Belle approached the table, and Rumple kept his hands on her. She knew better than to reach out to the thing in the dome, but she bent at the waist to examine it. The thing wasn’t entirely black, but held the faintest tints of a deep, angry red. It reminded her of blood, of meat.

“It’s not some kind of creature, is it, Rumple?”

Gently, he pulled her back, away from the thing. “It is a curse, my dear. But a small one, and fairly harmless.”

Her gaze shifted from the dome to her husband. She wasn’t afraid of this magic, not while he was there to protect her. “What kind of curse is it? What does it do?”

“Like I said, it’s a simple hex. It wouldn’t do much trouble even if it got out. The curse is, ‘May your bacon always burn.’”

At the sound of its purpose, the curse reared up and started banging itself against the glass. Belle jerked back against Rumple’s body, but her reaction was more out of surprise than fear. The chains kept the dome weighted down against the plate and the effect that cold iron had against certain spells held true. In no time at all, the curse seemed to have exhausted itself. Though it didn’t stop, its movements became listless and sluggish. Tendrils drooping, it floated instead of flying around the dome.

Full of nothing by curiosity, Belle looked at her husband. “What did you think you would find out from studying a curse?”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed before he spoke. “I, uh, I was trying to study the nature of curses and the effect of malicious intent on a spell. My perspective on such matters has… shifted, in the past month or so.” He twisted his wedding ring around his finger.

It had been a little more than a month since she had put that ring on him, since she had claimed him as her own forever. Belle put her hand over his, to still his nervous fidgeting. “What did you find out?”

He squeezed her hand before he let it go and went to one of his books. “Tell me, my love: What is the difference between a curse and a blessing? Don’t think, just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. He had gone from magic to philosophy, and his question surely would have a philosophical answer. “I suppose… curses are evil.”

“And what is the difference between evil and good?��

Belle thought only a moment before answering. “Well, evil things hurt people.”

“Aha!” Rumple snapped his fingers and pointed. She had gotten to the heart of his explanation. “But is it always evil to hurt people? Would you say a soldier at war is evil? How about a knight at a tournament, even if he just knocks his opponent to the ground? Is an executioner taking a murderer’s life less evil than the criminal himself?”

“But those are all people, Rumple. And what harm is acceptable under what circumstances is a matter for law-makers and clerics. You were examining a curse.”

“Yes.” Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes darkened as he gazed at the strip of black fire he kept under glass. “Unlike a person, a curse has no choice, not even an ability to mitigate the pain it causes. And a curse is pain, my sweet. For a magic-user to create a curse requires a wealth of intense, concentrated, damage on the heart. A hurt so unspeakable that the only way to be rid of it is to inflict it on another victim. And even then, the wound remains. It festers, like a stinking mold on the soul. No matter how you try, you’re never really clean again.”

He had turned away from her as he spoke, bracing his hands on the table. He stared intently at the curse and Belle could feel dark magic gathering around him. How many curses had her husband created? How much pain had he suffered and made other people suffer? How much damage, how much ‘stinking mold’ was on his soul?

The thought frightened her and she wanted to pull away. Instead, she stepped closer.

She put her hand on his arm. “Rumple?”

He didn’t react to her touch. His eyes had become black and unfocused. He was seeing things that did not exist in the world where she stood. Ghosts and regrets were never far from his mind, Belle knew, and this talk had opened up a door for them.

But she had the power to shut that door.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” Belle ordered, “look at me.”

With a shudder, her husband came out of his trance to obey her. He blinked several times, and each time his inhuman eyes became less black and more gold.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I--what were we saying?”

“You were telling me how terrible curses are.”

“Yes.” He took a heavy breath. “Yes, Belle. And you were listening to me.”

“I was.” Belle kept her hand on his arm, but gave him enough space to breathe. “But we don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, his eyes closed. He rubbed his face with one hand, the hand with his wedding ring on it. The golden band shone, reflecting the late morning light. His other hand gripped at the back of Belle’s loose shirt. He held her tightly, afraid to let go.

“I did have a point,” he said with a rough exhalation. The sound might have been a chuckle. “My experiment today was to see if a curse could be… redirected. Not broken, not reversed. I wanted to see if I could keep it whole, but shift its purpose, the same force for the opposite ends. I thought I might, somehow, compel harm to become helpful. I thought I could create goodness out of something that is built of nothing but rage and destruction.” He shook his head, sour and weary. “But it’s hopeless.”

“Well of course it is.” Belle put her arms around her husband’s waist and rested her head on his chest. His breathing had slowed, but it was still labored. “You said it yourself, Rumple: a curse has no choice.”

He shuddered again and clutched his arms around her body, buried his face in her hair. “Then what hope is there for evil people?”

Like a key turning in a lock, the mystery of his thoughts suddenly opened to her with a click.

“Oh,” Belle said out loud. “Oh, Rumple. Is that what this is all about? About you?”

He pushed himself away from her embrace and took a few long strides around his workroom until he was alone in the center of the floor. “Dark magic is all that I have done--all that I have been--for so long, Belle.” He took a deep and heavy breath. “I cannot dream of giving up evil entirely, not yet. But I thought that I could… transform it, a little. I thought I could make myself better, for you.” His hands balled into fists. He stared again at the trapped curse. “But the principle doesn’t hold, not even on the simplest of spells. A curse cannot be made good.”

As much as she understood her husband, Belle knew she had to disabuse him of at least one notion before they went any further. “But you are not a curse, Rumple.”

“Am I not?” He held up his hands for her examination. “This is a curse that I need, that I use every day to provide for myself and for you. Being the Dark One means living off of dark magic and all magic comes at a price.” He sighed, casting his gaze around the room. Belle saw him look at his spinning wheel, his spellbooks and potions, at the curse he had contained but could not control. Then he looked down at the floor, dejected. “I never minded paying until now,” he said softly. “I never minded being evil, until a good woman pledged to love me.”

Belle stepped up to her husband and gently took his hands. He gave himself to her, unresisting, but he did not meet her eyes.

“For as long as I’ve known you,” she said softly, “you have never made a secret of your evil.” She rubbed her thumb against his knuckles. “You’re usually more prone to hiding your goodness and your vulnerabilities.”

His eyes were still downcast, but his lips twitched into a half-smile. “And you found them out anyway, you remarkable woman.”

“And they were worth the search,” Belle assured him. “Rumple, I love your goodness, but I know that you are more than just one thing. I know that darkness is a part of you. It was the first part of you I ever knew.”

He grabbed her hands and shook his head. “I wish it wasn’t,” he said. “You are so good, Belle. You deserve a good man for a husband.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re trying to become a good man instead of trying to force me to be with someone I ‘deserve’ instead of with you, the man I love.”

He squeezed her again and pulled her into his arms. He embraced her so fiercely Belle thought it would leave bruises. She didn’t mind the idea.

“I can’t live without you, Belle,” her husband whispered. “I tried, but I hated it. I’m sorry I’m so weak.”

“I hated it too,” she reminded him. “I didn’t want to be away from you, that’s why I came back. And I know who you are, Rumpelstiltskin. I know what you’re capable of and how your mind works--and I still agreed to marry you. I appreciate that you want to be a better person, but please don’t think that I want you to become something entirely different than what you are.”

Rumple said nothing, but he rested his head against hers and nodded.

“I meant what I said before,” Belle went on. “You are not a curse. You are a person who does actions. And yes, some of those actions are curses, I won’t deny that. Some of your actions are cruel and thoughtless, and most of your magic is dark. But you!” She held his face in her hands. “You, my love, my husband, my Rumple--you are more than your worst actions. A curse doesn’t have a choice, but you do. Every time, you have a choice.”

“But so often my choices are wrong. If evil is what hurts people, I have done plenty of that.”

“I know,” Belle conceded. She rubbed his temples with her thumbs. “But that doesn’t mean that you are beyond hope, that you are unworthy of love. I have never believed that.”

“I know.” He held her close again. His hands stroked her back, twisted into the ends of her hair in its ribbon. They breathed together for a moment. “Even in the beginning, you never hated me as much as you should have.”

“Stop,” she ordered gently. “If I could order you to stop hating yourself, I would.”

Rumple chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Even that magic has its limits.”

She rested on his chest. “But I love you,” she said. “And I wish you could love yourself.”

“It’s easier to contemplate, when you’re around.” He held her by the shoulders to look her in the eye. “I do want to be a better man for you, a man who is actually worthy of your love.”

Belle smiled. “I’m just happy you’re thinking of yourself as a man at all,” she said. “It wasn’t that long ago you didn’t.”

“It wasn’t that long ago I wasn’t,” he countered. “You did transform me, my Belle. Your love… kept me from ever being a complete monster.”

Belle tried to keep her smile, but she couldn’t hide the slight slump of her shoulders.

“What is it?” Rumple asked.

“Nothing,” Belle said too quickly. She looked down at her hands, at her ring. “I just… I’ve had some selfish thoughts lately.”

“Oh?” he said lightly. “What is selfish for you, my sweet?”

It was Belle’s turn to fidget, to not look her lover in the eye. She stepped away from him, wandering uselessly in the small room. “It’s just… something I wanted to ask of you. But I worry that it isn’t something that you want to do anymore.”

Rumpelstiltskin cocked his head. “Now what on earth could there be that I wouldn’t give to my wife?”

Suddenly very hot, Belle swallowed. “I…” she began. “I worry that you will blanch at the idea, that it will be too evil for you now, for the man you want to be.”

Now his eyebrows furrowed and his voice became serious. He crossed the space that separated them. “What evil would you ask of me, Belle? Did someone hurt you? Do you want a head on a platter? I will destroy your enemies in an instant, if you just say the word.”

“No,” Belle almost laughed. But what she really wanted seemed too absurd for laughter. It had been weighing on her mind even before the wedding, before she came back to the castle, ever since the night she had been brought back from Regina.

Had it really been that long?

She took a breath. “Rumple,” she began. “Do you remember the chipped cup?”

He looked at her, quizzical. “Of course I remember your chipped cup. It’s still downstairs. We look at it every day.”

“Do you remember how we used to use it? W-what it meant?”

When Belle looked again at Rumpelstiltskin, she realized that she was probably seeing what her own face had looked like at the beginning of this conversation, that sudden moment of clarity.

“Oh,” he said simply. “You… would like us to do… that sort of thing… again. Is that what you mean?”

Belle hung her head, but nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I told you, it was a selfish impulse. And if it’s not something you want to do, I understand. But Rumple, you have to know--I never hated your darkness, and I never hated it when you let that darkness play with my body.”

A tremor went through Rumpelstiltskin. The muscles in his face twitched and his lips moved without sound. When he did speak, his voice was slow and breathy. “You… want me… to hurt you?”

Swallowing her embarrassment, Belle nodded. “A game, like we used to play. You were never really angry with me, it was never a real punishment for a real transgression. We were just… pretending.”

“But the pain was real,” he whispered. “The blood was real, the scars, the bruises. I really did hurt you, Belle.”

This time, her nod was more vigorous. “And I’d like you to hurt me again.” She looked down at the floor. It was harder to say these things as his wife than it ever had been when she was his whore. “I used to enjoy wearing your bruises, Rumple.”

His breath caught and Belle looked up. Rumpelstiltskin’s face was unmoving, but his eyes had gone dark and his lips were parted.

Walking up to him, Belle stood in front of her husband for a moment. Slowly, deliberately, she reached into her hair and pulled at the lilac ribbon. Released from their bondage, her curls tumbled over her shoulders in wild waves. She shook her head to help her curls settle into place and to unleash the hidden reserves of her perfume. The smell of roses--of heat, of desire--wafted from Belle to Rumple.

His mouth opened wider as he breathed her in, as he took in the sight of her and all the signs of her yearning. He gaped at her now. He stood up straighter, as if his leather trousers had suddenly grown too tight.

Then, Belle slowly sank to her knees. She hadn’t done this in months. The position was more awkward in her riding clothes and boots than it had been when she had worn nothing but a blue robe. She sat back on her heels, with her hands resting on her husband’s calves. She licked her lips and looked up at him.

“Would you like that, Rumpelstiltskin? Would you like to play a game with me?”

“Fuck.” He shivered and looked down at her. “Are you sure?”

“I fell in love with the Dark One,” Belle answered. “I fell in love with the man who owned me, who brought me over the brink of pain again and again. My husband is gentle and kind, but he can also be fearsome and terrible. And I love all of him.”

“Fuck,” Rumple said again. Then he bent at the waist. Then his hands were in her hair and his mouth was over hers and Belle was on her knees and utterly at the mercy of the most powerful dark magician in the world.

They broke apart, both of them breathless and overwhelmed. They didn’t change positions after the kiss. Belle remained on her knees and Rumple loomed over her.

“Do you have a preference?” he asked. “Where we do this?”

“Our room,” she said at once. “We make love every other way there. We shouldn’t treat this as separate.”

Bent over, he cradled her face in his hands. “Do you really think that, Belle? That what we’re about to do is just another way to make love?”

Belle nodded. “It is an action, not a curse.”

Rumple looked stricken at that--shocked that she had known what he was thinking, and touched that she would care. “I love you,” he whispered.

“And I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated as his hand clasped around her throat. Belle gasped and felt her whole body clench in desire as he forced her to the ground. “And that’s why I’m going to make you scream.”

#game #a golden cuffs story #Golden cuffs #rumbelle #rumbelle fic

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